#if i'm right. i might not be right. maybe i just didn't pay enough fuckin attention in rescue team. there's *two of them*. someone out there
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#absol#they look happier than umbreon which is strange to me. umbreon being all sad and angry while absol#known widely as The Edgy pokémon‚ is like. smiling a little bit. they're vibing they're totally fine#they're glad they got to be in rescue team#you go girl. go off‚ absol. even in rescue team they didn't feel like they had a Super cohesive tie to the story besides Being There and#helping and whatever but maybe that's just rescue team being my least favorite pmd game. but maybe that's part of *why*#if i'm right. i might not be right. maybe i just didn't pay enough fuckin attention in rescue team. there's *two of them*. someone out there#must like them enough for there to be a remake. and i know the general pmd community considers rescue team better than the 3ds games bc they#'re all nostalgia-driven like all pokémon fans and think that the older games are OBVIOUSly better even though the 3ds titles are#total masterpieces just like the rest of pmd. i'm not gonna complain abt this here bc i think the general pmd fanbase on tumblr are like#generally pretty nice and appreciate the 3ds games. y'all are nice here. elsewhere it gets scary. luckily everywhere else is crashing and#burning before our eyes. score. although apparently tumblr is also trying to given the whole “collapse reblogs” thing they're doing??#big yikes. hope that doesn't happen. anyway
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That Miguel meets Miles’ parents fic was so good! But for some reason it made me think of Miles showing his mother a picture on his phone and then she scrolls and sees a pic or video she definitely shouldn’t see
oh my god okay so like. Not the same situation but you reminded me of this. Once when I was 18 I was sitting in the living room watching movies w/ my family (dad, mom, younger brother) when one of the dogs comes trotting out my bedroom. Didn't pay him any mind until he dropped something on the floor and left it there and my dad in a slightly strained voice went, "Um, deadname, is that yours? Because I know it's not your mother's."
It was my vibrator. My bright purple vibrator right there for the whole fuckin world to see. I have never leapt up faster than I did in that moment to snatch it up. My mother thought it was the funniest shit she'd ever seen.
Okay enough tanget fksjcjskdkd
Miles is careful.
Maybe not as careful as most sixteen year olds considering his day job, and maybe not as careful as the people in his life want him to be. But still. Careful.
So Miles doesn't take nudes and Miguel doesn't ask him for them and they keep their texts pretty clean.
That's why Miles never sends Miguel any nudes. Miles is underage and any pictures he takes of himself are technically considered CSEM. Since Miguel's phone is from another dimension, nothing he sends or takes can be traced back to him, but Miles? His phone is firmly of this universe and his pictures can be recovered if someone really wanted to dig up dirt on him.
Usually.
Mostly.
Okay so Miles is still a teenager and Miguel can't seem to keep his hands off so maybe sometimes they sext. And maybe sometimes Miguel sends Miles the hottest pictures Miles has ever seen. It's fine. Nobody can trace them back to Miguel so he can't get in trouble for being inappropriate with a minor. And Miles can't get in trouble for having them on hand.
And because Miles is so careful, he stores Miguel's pictures in a locked folder. Like any self respecting teenager does with their porn.
All of this is to say that when Miles opens his photos and sees Miguel's dick front and center? He freezes in panic. Because that is not supposed to be there. He's careful!
It's a good picture. Miguel is hard and leaking, holding his cock against his toned stomach. But the quality of the picture isn't the problem here.
The problem is that Miles is holding his phone for his mother to see. Because he'd wanted to show her some new art he'd done on this building a couple blocks over.
"Mijo." The sound of her voice finally breaks Miles out of his trance and he squeaks, fumbling his phone desperately like if he can get it out of her sight she might completely forgot about it. He manages to get it into his pocket and then just stands there, unsure how she's going to react.
"Mijo," she says again, and he glances down at her, wincing.
His mother looks up at him and he can tell immediately she's trying so hard not to laugh. Her lips are pressed tight together and her shoulders are trembling with effort.
"Mom, please," Miles whines, and she finally gives in and starts laughing. She pats his shoulder, shaking her head.
"Baby, tenemos los mismos gustos," she says, and then she's laughing all over again like it's the funniest thing she's ever heard. Miles wants to crawl into a hole and die.
Also, he doesn't want to know his mother's sexual tastes. Ever. He wonders if Miguel has some future tech than can erase this interaction from Miles' mind forever.
His mother pats his arm again. "Okay, okay, I'm done. Go hide in your room like I know you want to."
Miles isn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. He pretends not to hear when she calls a parting, "And learn how to make that stuff private!" after him.
The only good thing about this is that she didn't realize a full grown man had sent the picture to Miles. Small fucking miracles.
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Could we get some angst with B? It could be anything really, maybe like a fight before a concert that makes reader leave the venue or something? An angsty ending would be great 🤔. I love your writing btw!
A/N: first, it means a lot ♥️ second, whatever i say in this imagine is purely fictional. In no way am i saying stuff to make anons feel bad/guilty/hurt, I'm just using the stuff that we've been discussing to build the story of the imagine, cuz it helps through the most part. In no way am i using the stuff people have sent to mock them or to make fun of them. In no way am i targeting Brad of having this type of behaviour and in no way am i projecting his behaviour in this imagine as being real in his day-to-day lifestyle.
I hope u'll like it ♥️
Showstopper
"We still need to talk about that, eventually", i tell Brad as i close the room of the backstage room. The boys went out to get some things from the tour bus, but Brad and i both know they left because of the tension between the two of us.
"What if we postpone it until tomorrow, love? I have a show in 30 minutes, i don't want to go out there angry", he gives me a quick smile and turns his back to me, giving his curls a shake in the mirror to fix his hair. I roll my eyes at him in the mirror. He sighs. "Fine, mess the good state that I'm in. What's even the matter?"
I scoff
"Well, you'd know if you paid some attention to me in the past few days", he turns to face me and i walk closer to him. "since we left for tour, you barely took the time to spend time with me", i cross my arms at my chest
"I did pay attention to you, i always do. And I'm sorry i didn't spend as much time with you as you wished, but you saw the madness of the tour", he puts a hand on my cheek, but his eyes stare me down. I know he is mad at me for blaming him of not spending enough time with me. I know he is busy as hell most of the time, but at least on tour, when the most busy part of the day is going on stage, i wish he could spend with me some more quality time.
"It's ok, but at least hear me out when you see me sad. When was the last time you asked me how I'm feeling?", he frowns at me, taking his hand away
"I always do. I can ask you the same thing tho. When was the last time you actually checked on me?", he opens his eyes wide in curiosity. I just look away. "I thought so too", he walks away from me, but i follow him. "Anyways, what's on your mind that you need to tell me right now?", he sighs
"Brad, don't be an asshole, i really want you to listen to me. Do you ever listen to me?"
"Yes, i do, y/n"
"No, i mean do you really listen to me?"
"Yes, i do, whenever you're sad or angry, i pay attention to every word"
"Good", i say and take a seat on the armrest of the couch. "I've been getting a lot of dms recently and i don't feel comfortable receiving stuff like that"
"What dms?", Brad frowns and crosses his arm at his chest
"Since nobody knows we're dating, some fans blame me that you and your ex broke up because of me, because you either like me or i came between you two. They accuse you of cheating, first and foremost, then they call me a bitch, a liar and a home wrecker. I couldn't give a shit about what they call me cause i know it's not true, but i hate it how they call you."
"Oh so you hate the way they call me like you can't just ignore it because it is not true, right?", Brad rolls his eyes and i press the palms of my hands to my forehead.
"I can't believe you just said that"
"Tell me more, actually, what else is in there? That you believe about me, might i add", he crosses his legs and i see his cheeks getting flustered with anger. Brad is so sweet all the time, always smiling and making sure that everyone's comfortable around him, but it's days like this when we fight when i just want to punch him in the face. And then hug him.
"Brad, stop it. You know very well that these things wouldn't come up if you could post a fuckin picture or a tweet about us, making things official and then disappear from social media like always.", i get up and start walking around the room. I hear footsteps behind my back and Brad gently turns me around to face him.
"You can't throw this at my feet whenever you are mad about the fact that nobody knows we're dating. You know very well how i feel about that, but it looks like you just can't respect my decision whatsoever", he walks away and finds a water bottle to toss across the room. I sigh loudly and i bite the inside of my cheek to hold back my tears. I know how sensitive this subject is for him and i hate bringing it up, but he can't be like this all the time. Maybe he knows too, but he surely doesn't show it.
"It's been one year. One year and when people see us together, you still tell them we're best friends and we met while you were golfing. It's the lamest thing I've ever heard someone lie about. At least try harder."
"I'm trying to protect you!", Brad raises his voice and i frown, taking steps in his direction, my index finger pointing at his chest.
"You protect nothing, cause people are going to talk anyway. You only make it worse by keeping the truth away from people and you just can't see it, for the love of God. Do you even know how hard it is to have thousands of photos together and not being able to have one as my lockscreen? Or do you even know how hard it is for me to see your lockscreen being a picture of Jack that i have taken? Knowing that I'm behind that damned phone and in reality i do not exist as being yours, yet the worst thing about this is that it's because of you? ", his eyes fall on my cheeks that are soaked in tears. He opens his mouth to talk, but closes it right after. Brad puts a hand on my cheek and i put his hand away. He takes a step back and removes a tear from the corner of his eye, looking throughout the room, as to find a way to walk away from me. I look down at my feet, biting my lip, trying my best not to break down in front of him. Of course he has seen me cry many times because of stress, missing him and also he's seen happy tears from me, but i don't want mercy words from him just to calm me down. I've heard 'in a few weeks, I'll make it official' too many times for this to actually make me happy.
"Five minutes till stage time. I don't know what's wrong with the two of you, but wrap it up and discuss it later", Joe shouts from behind the door. A tear manages to fall unannounced right when Brad came next to me.
"I'm sorry you feel that way about me. I'm also sorry i couldn't give you whatever you were longing for. If us being official is the only reason you want to be with me, i can't have you stay with me for that. I know I'm not perfect, never have i felt like i was perfect. I know I'm not the best at handling relationships, but i know for a fact that i knew how to make you happy and feel fulfilled next to me. I know i gave you the purest form of love I've ever given someone. The most truthful i love you's. You've seen me at my worst and at my best, I've seen you at your worst and at your best. We've been through the most wonderful times together, yet there were horrible times when i never thought you'll still stick by my side. And you did. And look at you now", his voice breaks, my body hurting with every word he says and anticipation of his next lines. "Throwing all of that away because i can't, fuck, i don't even know if i want to, make us official in a world where everything can be destroyed so easily. All this time, i never wanted anyone to take you away from me, because i was so afraid you'd choose someone else because i wasn't good enough for you and I say that because I've been told many times how my girlfriend would look next to x or y. Even close friends of mine talked about you. And guess what, i did tell them about us. Did they ever say anything else about you ever again? No. But every time i spent time with them i replayed in my head their words. And it hurts. It hurts knowing that you could've easily left me for someone better.",his tears stain his cheeks and i put a hand on my stomach, feeling nauseous. I inhale deeply, trying to say something before he does.
"But i would've never considered leaving you for someone else. I love you", my voice cracks
"Brad, 1 minute", Joe shouts and Brad leaves towards the door, drying his cheeks with his hands. I follow him and stop right at the door, when he turns around.
"I don't know why you would feel better if people knew about us. Isn't giving you everything i have enough? Selling our image isn't love for me, but if it is for you, tell people we used to date"
Before he gets out of the door, he kisses my forehead one last time, before getting on the corridor with Joe and the boys. I drop on the couch and let go of all my emotions, crying and feeling my lungs set on fire. A few moments later, Joe comes back to check on me.
"I think i better go", i say, chocking on my own crying. "I'm sorry for your shirt", i point to his black t-shirt, now soaked in foundation and blush.
"You don't have to worry and neither do you have to go. I'm sure you just have to talk this through. You're both short-tempered these days. It's stressful being on tour", he tries to calm me down. We exit the backstage room and i make a quick stop to see the boys performing. I see Brad running around the stage and singing at the top of his lungs, leaving our conversation for later, not to disappoint his fans. I watch the fans clap, jump and scream the lyrics along with them. I smile at the view and i sigh when i realise how wrong i am to choose to be seen as his girlfriend over being treated the absolute best by him. It's true, he has flaws, but i learned to embrace them and i know for a fact that i don't want to let him deal with them alone. Brad is, indeed, a showstopper.
Before i leave outside the venue, Brad catches a glimpse of me and i can see that the mask he's put on for the show is slowly fading away. His sad eyes eye me up and down one last time, before turning back to pleasing the crowd. I look down at my feet and i see Connor giving me a thumbs up, which i reciprocate before finally leaving.
#brad simpson#the vamps#brad simpson imagine#brad simpson smut#brad simpson headcanon#brad simpson angst#brad simpson x reader#brad simpson x y/n
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Sparrow - Ch 3
One Piece Fanfic (Drama/Romance/Suspense)
Pairings: E. Kid x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Lucci x Reader (one sided)
Rating: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY
CW: Violence, Language
Chapter Summary: Sabo negotiates with Kid for your protection, and everyone learns something they didn't expect.
Links to AO3 -- Fanfic Master List
Chapter 3: Game of Questions
Sabo stood next to Koala in the dim light of the auto shop's back office, holding your unconscious form to his chest as they waited for Eustass Kid to speak.
"Killer, remind me. When we were expecting Blue and his little army brats?"
"Next week, after we contacted him to confirm we acquired what they asked for," Killer replied easily as he leaned on the wall behind Kid, arms folded casually across his broad chest.
Kid shot Sabo a wicked grin.
"You seem to have forgotten the rules of our agreement," Kid stated lowly as he idly played with a knife. "You're lucky I value our working relationship enough to allow you to explain why you think you can show up here without an invitation."
"I'm sorry we didn't have time to call ahead. We were in a bit of a rush." Sabo glanced down at your sleeping form before continuing. "But I don't think you'll want to turn down what I'm offering."
Kid's expression turned serious as he tilted his head toward you. "That's not the kind of merchandise I work with, and frankly, I find it pretty fuckin' suspicious that you would bring whatever kind of rushjob this is to me." Kid was never a patient man, and it was clear whatever patience he had left was already worn thin. "I'll give you one more chance before I stop being so nice. Why. Are. You. Here?"
Sabo took a deep breath. His calm and casual attitude turned stern and serious. "I'm here because I didn't have another choice. I have two very serious problems. First, we have reason to believe we've been compromised." Kid's brows twitched, but Sabo pressed on before anyone could react. "If we are right, the source only had access to information from before we started working with you. I'm here because I know for a fact you are not at risk, and I need that to deal with my second problem."
"And your second problem is?"
Sabo swallowed hard before motioning to you. "Koala and I have to get the first problem under control, but we can't take her with us. She's one of ours, but the government is after her. We need you to hide her until we can get back. A few hours maybe, a day tops."
Kid frowned. "Government's always after you lot. What's so special about her?"
Sabo grimaced, and he tightened his hold on you without thinking. "The leader of CP9, he..." Sabo thought about what he witnessed from the shadows in the subway station. He knew Lucci only from the bodies he left behind. There were no stories from Revolutionary survivors because he left no survivors. The way he spoke to you though, he wasn't acting like you were a Revolutionary. He wasn't even acting like he wanted you dead. He wanted you alive, and he wanted you to go with him willingly. Sabo cursed his own mind for thinking up all of the horrible possibilities of what that might have meant for you. "He wants her alive, and he made it clear that he has a personal interest in capturing her."
"And you have a personal interest in protecting her?"
"I'll pay triple what I paid you for our last deal."
Kid hummed thoughtfully. He rose from the desk and sauntered in front of them. His gaze rolled over you, and a large finger tapped you on the cheek. Kid snorted when you sneered and grumbled in your sleep.
"Heavy sleeper?" Kid questioned, but his implication wasn't lost on Sabo.
Sabo glanced away briefly before returning Kid's gaze. "I sedated her. She's been through a lot." Just how much, he wasn't even sure.
Kid frowned as he took in more of your form. Your thin clothing was sweat-stained, your arm was recently bandaged, and your bare feet were filthy.
"Eustass, please. Just keep her hidden, and call me when she wakes up."
"Triple last deal," Kid confirmed the price and pointed a finger at Sabo. "And you Blue, you personally owe me a favor."
Sabo nodded faster than Koala could open her mouth to protest. "Deal."
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You woke up in a drowsy haze. It was the first time you could remember waking up without gasping for breath. It would have been a nice change if you weren't also waking up in a strange place, chained to a desk.
You willed yourself to stay focused as you took in your surroundings. You were still an agent after all, even if you were a deserter. You remembered your training. Get your bearings, get yourself free, and get out.
You sat in a leather chair with a rounded back. Your wrists were bound in handcuffs, and the handcuffs were attached to a chain that connected to the large metal desk in front of you. There was a door to your left. The only light in the room came from what slipped in under the door from the hallway. There was a window to your right. The blinds were closed, but the shadows cast on them from a large maple outside led you to believe you were on the second or third floor. You breathed deeply through your nose. The scent of rubber and oil hung heavy in the air. You weren't back at CP9 headquarters, and you weren't dead. Both unexpected.
You angled your wrists toward the light from the doorway and examined your restraints. The cuffs were basic, and they didn't even bind your feet. Amateurs.
You leaned your head down until it was close enough to your hands. You pulled two thin barrettes from your hair and maneuvered them into the cuffs. A small click sounded as each pin in the lock was released. You moved the noisy chain and cuffs to the floor as silently as you could, then took a moment to stretch your tense muscles as you stood up.
You started to take a step toward the door when you froze. Everything about waking up here felt so different. It was probably the reason you let your guard down enough to miss the one familiar thing about how you woke up. You weren't alone.
"Not bad." You expected a voice from behind you, but you didn't expect those words or that voice. It wasn't Lucci. It wasn't one of the other CP9 agents either.
You lunged to grab the first thing you could see on the desk as soon as you felt his movement. He was lightning fast, reaching you and blocking you by the wrist before you were able to drive the object into his skull. Now that he was in the light of the door, you could see him better. He wasn't as tall as Lucci, but he still towered over you. Long blond locks covered his eyes, but you could tell by how relaxed his face was that restraining you was hardly a challenge for him.
"Easy, girl. You're safe here."
He could tell you weren't convinced though, and he twisted your wrist until your makeshift weapon dropped to the desk. He put you back in your restraints and lightly shoved you back in the chair before picking up the phone on the desk.
"Kid, she's awake. Want me to call Blue?"
The blond pulled out a different phone to make a second call to a similar effect. He didn't give away who he was speaking to, but you got the feeling whoever it was would be there soon enough.
It wasn't long before the man he called 'Kid' entered the room. He was taller than the blond, more muscular too. You could see the beginning of a few scars across his chest, peeking out from behind his open shirt. Wild red locks framed his hard face. The blond whispered something to him, and you almost faltered as he met you with fierce amber eyes.
Kid chuckled. "I'm curious. What was your plan? Break out of here, and then what?" He clicked the end of your improvised weapon mockingly. "Take on the government with nothing but you and your clicky pen?"
Cocky bastard. "A pen can cut an artery just as well as a knife if you know how to do it. You can make it a lot more painful, too." You made a show of looking him up and down, doing your best to look unimpressed. "Unless you can't handle that kind of thing."
"I'm taking a pretty big fuckin' risk keeping you here. You should be grateful."
"Oh, where are my manners? Thanks so much for cutting my arm and chaining me to a desk," you deadpanned.
"Tsh. We may have tied you up, but we didn't slice your arm. Ya had that already when Sabo left you here."
"Who is Sabo?"
Your question had both men pause in clear confusion.
"Don't fuck with me, woman. Your little boyfriend paid me good money to keep you here, but my hospitality only goes so far." Kid warned.
Now you were confused. Lucci didn't like relying on anyone outside of Cipher Pol in normal situations. You supposed this wasn't exactly a normal situation though.
"Who are you?" Kid asked curiously.
You let out a long sigh and shook your head. "What a question."
"Dammit, woman."
"Someone paid you to kidnap me, and you don't even know who I am?" You chuckled to yourself. "Thought I was the only one."
Kid slammed his fists on the desk with a loud bang. You didn't flinch. You had no intention of cooperating.
"If he's using you to hold me, he's keeping this off the books. And if he's keeping this off the books, he isn't planning on keeping you alive." You were so busy riling up Kid that you didn't notice the blond studying you with concern. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that went over your head, though. You clearly aren't the mastermind around here." You tilted your head toward the blond, but kept your eyes on Kid. "Why don't you ask your boss there what he thinks."
You couldn't hide your smug grin as you saw the giant before you lose it. You didn't have to wind him up, but it was just so easy. There was no deception in the redhead. From his words to his body language, he was an open book. You almost felt bad for how quickly you forced him to lose his temper, but you clearly weren't able to break out of this situation by force. And when all you had was your wits, a little chaos couldn't hurt.
Kid's chair hit the wall behind him as he rose abruptly from his desk, but the blond was at his side instantly. He whispered something in the redhead's ear, and to your surprise, Kid strode out of the room, muttering a string of barely audible curses.
The blond picked up the fallen chair and sat it back behind the desk, but he retook his position leaned against the wall.
He decided to come at you from another angle. He agreed to answer a question from you if you answered one from him. If you didn't want to answer a question, he would ask you a different one instead. It was terribly reasonable.
The blond was definitely the more level headed of the two. You couldn't work his temper, but if you talked to him long enough, you could find something to exploit. Everyone had something.
You begrudgingly agreed, and as a sign of good faith, he answered your previous question for you first.
"You asked who Sabo is. He's the first officer in the Revolutionary Army. He brought you to us unconscious and paid us to keep you safe from the government agents hunting you."
Your eyes widened. CP9 not having you was a huge relief, but you didn't know much about the Revolutionaries. Lucci was adamant about keeping you away from any missions involving that group.
"What do they want with me?"
He furrowed his brows briefly before shaking his head. "My turn to ask a question."
He considered you for a moment before deciding what to ask.
"What's your name?"
You frowned. You hated your name. It probably wasn't even your real name, just another cruel gift from your sensei. The first thing you wanted to do when you left was get a new one.
"Alright. Where are you from?"
Your brows knit together. If they weren't working for the government and didn't know who you were, you weren't sure you should tell him that's where you came from. And if he meant before that, you had no idea.
"How old are you?"
You shut your eyes and grimaced. You didn't know. It wasn't necessary for your training, and it wasn't something Lucci could use to keep you under his thumb, so they never told you.
"Ok, you have to give me something."
"You don't understand," you muttered softly. "I can't answer those questions."
"Listen, I get that you don't trust me-"
"I didn't say I won't. I said I can't." Your voice was steadier now that some of your anger was back.
He was looking at you closely now. You were in pain, and you were angry, but none of it was directed at him.
"Why can't you answer those questions?"
You knew you shouldn't trust him, but you didn't have much of a choice. He was definitely more sensible than the redhead. Maybe if you got on his good side, he could help convince the revolutionaries not to kill you.
"Because I don't remember. I can't remember anything that happened before one year ago."
He was studying you, trying to see if you were lying. You weren't. He nodded, signaling that he accepted your answer and was now waiting for your question.
You honestly weren't sure what to ask. You didn't know what the revolutionaries wanted with you, but they were spending money and taking risks to keep you away from CP9. You wanted to believe they would help you, but they could just as easily be keeping you alive only long enough for some sort of trial and execution.
Your body and mind were trained to survive. You knew you should ask something that could give you tactical insight. You looked at the blond man again, then around the room. You couldn't remember a time you spoke to someone outside of CP9 that wasn't part of a mission.
"What's your name?" You finally asked.
"Killer."
You chuckled. His name was as ridiculous as yours.
"Eustass Kid is the man you met earlier."
You nodded thoughtfully and waited for him to ask his next question.
"What's the last thing you remember before you woke up here?"
You raised your gaze to where his eyes peaked out from behind his long bangs. His eyes were blue. "I escaped. I... I ran. I got all the way to the subway, but the fucking train was late. That's where he found me."
"Sabo?"
You shook your head and shut your eyes tight.
"Who?"
You couldn't help but picture Lucci's cold eyes.
"Who found you?"
"My turn to ask a question." You opened your eyes and let out a soft sigh. "Where am I?"
"South district. Kid's Body Shop."
You had never heard of it. Even the other CP9 agents rarely frequented this part of the city. Maybe that meant they really could keep you hidden from Lucci.
"Where did you escape from?"
It wasn't a line of questioning that you liked, but at least you knew the answer.
"The Cipher Pol Nine headquarter building, NWC Central District."
You weren't sure, but it looked like Killer raised a brow.
"You said Sabo is paying you keep me safe from the government. Why would he do that?"
"He didn't tell us much, but Sabo said the leader of CP9 is personally hunting you down."
You nodded sourly. "That's true."
"He said he wanted to capture you. What does he want from you?"
You swallowed hard. You thought he was going to kill you. He had plenty of chances to, but he didn't. He wanted you to go back with him.
"He wants... to break me."
Killer didn't seem to react, and you were too tired to care anymore. "Listen, it's been a long night and seeing as it might be my last, can we wrap this up?"
"Sure. Just one more question." He let a slight grin curl up one side of his face. "If you can't tell me your name, that's fine. But what should we call you?"
His question caught you off guard. You expected him to ask more about CP9. You tilted your head in thought. If you were going to die soon, maybe it would be better to die with a name of your own choosing.
Before you could respond, the door burst open. A familiar looking blond man stared at you from the doorway. He swallowed before rushing toward you. You flinched, expecting the worst, only to be wrapped in a tight embrace. He knelt in front of you, holding you hard against his chest.
Kid followed him inside. You searched both his and Killer's faces for an explanation of what was happening, but you found only deep frowns and furrowed brows.
"Blue," Kid's gruff voice was almost soft as he addressed the man holding you.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, (Y/n). I should never have stopped looking for you," Sabo whispered. His head was dropped onto your shoulder.
"Sabo," Kid's voice was louder now.
"I know you hate me, but I'm just so glad that you're back. I can't believe you're back." You had no idea what he was talking about, but a familiar feeling was slowly creeping in your gut as his lips moved against your skin.
"Sabo? You're Sabo?" you asked, finally making some sense of the voices around you.
The blond pulled back and held you by the shoulders. The sheer happiness on his face morphed into concern. "You... don't recognize me?"
"She told us she didn't remember anything before a year ago," Killer stated. "It's interesting that you didn't know that already."
"Wait, I do remember you." You looked at him again and fell back into those deep blue eyes. His face was a mixture of confusion and hope until your next words broke him. "You're that pervert from the train."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because you swear you saw all the color drain from his face. You didn't mean it to come out as bad as it sounded. To be fair, the last twenty four hours was a lot, and you had been drugged recently.
Sabo took a step back, turning from you and trying to collect himself. Killer took him by the shoulders and filled him in on what you had just spoken to him about.
You closed your eyes and tried to make sense of what was happening. He was talking like he knew you, but that was impossible. You were an orphan raised in a government facility. You were a trained CP9 agent. If you had made contact with a member of the Revolutionary Army before you lost your memory, there's no way Lucci wouldn't have killed you on the spot, especially if it was the kind of contact that led to him holding you like he just did. None of this made any sense.
"What's the last thing you remember?" You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice and found all three men staring down at you.
"I escaped CP9 Headquarters. I ran until I was in the subway-"
"No, no," Sabo knelt forward and put a hand on your shoulder. "What's the first thing you can remember."
You hesitated a touch too long before answering honestly. "I woke up exactly twelve months ago in the medical wing of Cipher Pol. Once I was healed, I returned to train under my sensei until I was reinstated as a full agent of CP9."
You weren't sure if it was your words or Kid's sudden grip on Sabo that shocked him more. Before you knew it, Kid was dragging him out the door and throwing him into what sounded like the room across the hall. If you thought you had made Kid angry before, he was truly furious now. Killer was quick to chase after them, and for the first time since you woke up, you were alone.
It only took a moment for your eyes to fall to the desk, right to where you left your hair pins, just within reach.
----------
Kid threw Sabo into the empty room across the hall. His feet slid backwards along the concrete floor, and Kid could admit he was impressed that Sabo didn't flinch. He kept his eyes on Kid, even when the drywall cracked as his back slammed into the wall.
"You lied to me. You said she was one of yours," Kid growled.
"I didn't lie, Eustass. She-"
"She's a fuckin' government rat!" Kid cut him off as he stalked toward Sabo.
Killer was quick to step between Sabo and the redhead. "Kid, I think we should hear him out."
Kid was fuming, but Killer's actions gave him pause. The blond knew him better than anyone, and he was loyal to a fault. Killer wasn't shy about giving Kid his opinions, but it was rare for him to physically step in.
Kid looked past his friend to Sabo, still standing where he landed against the opposite wall. "Alright, Blue. Explain it to me. And for Killer's sake, explain it in a way that doesn't make me kill you."
It didn't take long for the two blonds to put together most of what had happened to you.
Everything the government told you was a lie.
You were an orphan headed down a dark path until the Revolutionary Army took you in. You joined their ranks when you were old enough. You were a devoted soldier and you were a trained killer, but not for the organization you thought. Sabo didn't go into detail on the mission where you disappeared, just that you were presumed dead despite them never finding a body.
"So, she's a lifetime member of the RA, gets captured a year ago, you lot think she's dead, and they fuck with her head when she can't remember who she is." Kid was finally calm, though his anger was barely below the surface thinking about what kind of scum messes with a person's mind like that.
"Not quite." Sabo pushed a hand through his hair in somber frustration. "The last mission she went on for us. The one where she disappeared. It was almost three years ago."
The room fell silent. It was clear what that meant. You were taken by the government three years ago, and they wanted the world to think you were dead. No one outside Cipher Pol would know what happened to you during the first two years you were gone, and they brain washed you into playing soldier for them during this past year.
"You called her one of your own, but you left her behind. Ya left her to be eaten alive by the enemy." Kid's laugh contained no mirth, only contempt.
Sabo's gaze was deadly as he faced the redhead. "You weren't there. What we found, all that was left of her." He gritted his teeth. "They were very convincing."
"What happens to her now?" Killer asked, breaking the tension between the two.
Sabo thought for a moment, quickly burying his anger and reverting to calm professionalism once again.
"We're still evacuating the safe houses and securing the assets she had knowledge of before she was captured. Once we have resources back in place, she'll want to see Dragon."
Kid's distaste for the situation was obvious. He turned his head and glanced toward the hallway. His eyes caught yours through the small crack in the door, and he refrained from cracking a smile. Of course you broke free again.
His musings ended as soon as they began, though. He saw something in your eyes that was painfully familiar, and it twisted in his gut like a knife.
Sabo and Killer were discussing the best way to explain all of this to you when Kid finally interrupted them.
"Tell me this, Blue. What happens if you explain all this to her, and she doesn't want to play hero for ya anymore?"
Sabo looked down. That was clearly not a possibility he was ready to entertain.
Kid scoffed as Sabo and Killer continued making plans for you. He looked back toward the door and left without excusing himself when he saw that you were gone.
It didn't take him long to find you. There was only one light on, and it was coming from the floor below. He watched you from the doorway to the kitchen. You were sat on the counter next to the sink, scrubbing your feet clean with a damp dish towel.
"You're still here," he grumbled softly.
"Looks that way."
"Not thinking of running away again?"
"Tch. I might not know who I am, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I'll be dead in five minutes, running from the government without some kind of help."
He let out a short laugh, grabbing a beer and popping off the cap with the side of the fridge. "If you were so damn smart, why didn't you realize that before you escaped the government?"
"I did realize it." He knit his brows together as he looked at you. His smile faded as he realized what you meant. "Would you rather live in a cage or die a free man?"
Kid knew exactly what he would rather do.
He took a second beer from the fridge and kicked it shut before closing the distance between you. He towered over you, even as you were perched on top of the counter. He knew how intimidating he was, and he didn't want to admit how much he liked that you weren't afraid of him.
He kept his eyes on your face as he slid the second bottle under the metal edge of the counter between your knees, popping the cap with a casual flick of his wrist.
He handed you the beer and flashed a smug grin as he watched you try to hide the blush on your cheeks. He clinked his bottle against yours as soon as you accepted it.
"I'll cheers to that."
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#fanfic#one piece x reader#one piece x you#one piece x y/n#one piece x oc#sabo x reader#sabo x y/n#sabo x you#eustass kid x you#eustass kid x y/n#eustass kid x reader#one piece fanfiction#one piece fic
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Entering The Forlorn Temple.
Yeah, this place looks pretty forlorn alright. But I wouldn't necessarily say it's any more forlorn than the woods I was just in.
Oh, cool, the sun's coming out. It must be dawn.
I. Uh. I guess. That means I could have waited five minutes and not fought the Leaf Monster that only comes out during full moon nights. <.< Awkward.
There's probably a lesson in that about impulsivity but fuck if I'm gonna learn shit when I'm on a mission!
Wait wait wait, the Demon King destroyed our stronghold? We had a stronghold?
*think think think think think*
...what, Clockwork Castle? Or something else? Sorry, I was super invested in the Luana Fable and didn't pay much attention to any of the other key history lessons. As the goddess teaches, "I have better things to do with my life than pay attention to a boring-ass instructor."
No, for real, if it's Clockwork Castle, I am going to laugh so hard. You have no idea.
Because that already belonged to them in the first place.
You can't just say shit like that to a follower of Luana and expect a cautious response, my guy. What you have described is a pristine MBD (Mad Bitchin' Deed) just begging for a bold enough ninja to carry it out.
I am that ninja. I am the night. A shadow dancing around the edge of a moonbeam. A grasping hand around your back. A knife in a locked storeroom. I am.....
...wait, I think I said that wrong. Can I have a do-over?
This is it. "Oh, Ninja, you're too much of a wimp to make this jump" FUCKING WATCH ME
...what?
That's. That's not supposed to happen. I was supposed to soar like an eagle and look awesome doing it. I don't understand.
Is someone coming to let me out so that I can try again?
...
Does impulsiveness have consequences?
HOLY FUCK WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU
I mean. Hi? You look like a very nice... uh... tadpole?
That sounds horrifying. I'm sorry that you were born some sort of eldritch embodiment of terror.
Yeah, that's pretty understandable. I was. Um. Pushed. By someone very large. No idea who. He just came along and shoved me. It was super rude.
............
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ALL OF THE SHARDS ARE MINE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Bestie, you're gonna be sad you missed out on this!
...
Oh. I made myself lonely.
There we go. HEY BESTIE HOW'S THINGS?
Yeah, we're down here right now. On purpose. I did this super cool triple backflip quarter axle maneuver into a swan dive and shot straight down this huge pit. It was the best. Sorry you missed it.
How are things? Did you know I just fought a Leaf Monster? It was so cool. Didn't even touch me once. He was like "HAHA Razor Leaves!" and I was like "This ain't fuckin' Pokemon asshole SCHWAZING".
I was amazing.
._. Please validate me fighting a Leaf Monster because it was very scary and you are my only friend. Apart from the shopkeep who I might not be allowed to associate with.
Purple wizard? Purple wizard! Some sort of necromancer, I guess! Maybe Roro? I remember reading about a necromancer named Roro. I think she was a close, personal friend of Luana's.
Let's see. If that is Roro, then I believe the phrase to identify me as a friend to her is... Right! Ahem.
"HEEEEEEY BESTIE!!!"
Aaaaaaaaand undead horrors. Well, that's rude. Must not have heard me.
HEY! BESTIE! WAIT U--
Okay, in my defense, that time was an accident. But it is nice to see you again, all the same.
Please don't be jealous that I was calling the necromancer "Bestie". For you, it's a term of endearment because we're besties, but for her, it's a code phrase. It's supposed to make her realize that we're friends and stop trying to kill me.
Well, I was getting to that. But then I saw these cool catacombs and decided of my own volition, mind you that I would come check them out. It's like a side quest. Sometimes you're strolling along and you see this whole-ass dungeon and you're like, "There. I'm gonna go there."
So, yeah. Now I'm here. And I'm gonna finish out this deliberate sidequest and see if I get any cool rewards for it. How's life for you?
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I'm probably super late & no pressure to respond but I want to share a scar story! (Maybe it can inspire writers who want to read a firsthand experience about some OUCHITY OUCH pain.)
I have a tiny straight line of a scar along the nail of my big toe. But the interesting bit is just, the painful part tbh. It's wild but might be squick. So again, no need to respond or read it all. Bail if it gets too squick. Nothing life threatening or gorey, just big ouchers.
(CW: I had a Matrixectomy/partial nail removal. But he forgot the local anesthetic.)
I was like 14 yrs old and had a really infected spot on my toe where my nail had become ingrown that kept getting infected again if I stubbed my toe etc. so my mom took me to a medical clinic & they performed a Matrixectomy. But without a local anesthetic.
So it's one nurse, one doctor guy and my mom. He just gets right to it after all of the tools are brought out and was pushing teeny mini scissors/cutters into the infected skin area that was really tender and painful by just barely walking on it, cutting a straight line on my nail to the base of the nail to remove the problem area. With No injection for numbing. I was like a 90lb stickboy of a beanpole but my mom had to help the nurse hold my legs down bc it was so hard to stay still and not roll around in pain. I tried not to cry too much and didn't scream bloody murder because I didn't want to inconvenience the doctor or freak my mom out but that shit HURT. Then he applied the acid with a q-tip or something that scars the area so the nail in that section doesn't grow back. That also hurt.
Once it was over I sat up and nearly passed out so they had to make me lay back down, & brought me a wet towel for my forehead. Once I was good to get up we walk out the door to pay or whatever, idr, I just know I almost passed out in the hall on the way to the counter, and then one more time in the parking lot before I got in the car to go home. The gauze was so tight my toe was throbbing, I was literally just writhing in pain on my mom's bed for 1 or 2 hrs till I loosened the wrapping and the pain finally went down enough that I could sleep it off with an Ibuprofen.
A couple weeks later the nail still curled into my skin and got infected again. 🫠 I nearly cried when I saw the pus it was gross and I didn't want to go through the procedure again, I was an anxious wreck over it. We go to another clinic, get told the first guy did it wrong/incorrectly somehow, then get directed to a podiatrist to fix it for real this time.
That podiatrist was the nicest doctor in the world. When the nurse brought out the tray with the tools right before they were going to start my eyeballs took one look at the instruments and just WEPT without my say-so. It didn't even feel like crying. It just felt like water coming out of my eyeballs without my consent. They were so understanding about it. 😭 I felt like I was being a big fat wuss, or a crybaby. But I was scared. "Sorry. I'm good. It just really hurt last time." And they'd heard the story so they knew so I was gonna trust them to NOT do that they reassured both my mom and I they'd make sure it didn't hurt.
Then he injected the local anesthesia to numb my toe and get to work. All I felt was him vaguely pushing my toe around for a better angle and a little bit of pressure and then bam. It was over and done. 0 pain whatsoever. It was fuckin INCREDIBLE. 20/10 experience.
IDK why that first guy kept going when the patient was clearly in so much pain or distressed he had to be held down. I was like 14. >:( But it makes for a good story to tell.
& that's my traumatic scar horror story of the smallest scar I have. :D
THATS INSANE. SOME DOCTORS ARE SO DUMB AND SHOULD NOT BE PRACTISING. also yeah i know abt this procedure bc .. i obsessively watch videos w it.. dont even. dont even say anything. i know. i know.
im soooo sorry u went thru that shit thats so bad. but im glad it got fixed later.
#i had smth cut out of my foot when i was younger that idk the name of in english but i can confirm the local anaesthesia part#it rly does numb the area#but the needle was fucking huge my mom said she was waiting for it to just go thru my entire toe and come out the other side lmfao#anyway i also didnt make a sound bc i was afraid of inconveniencing the doctor#i do that w every doctor ever#im a horrible patient#they tell me 'hey let me know if it hurts' and im like ok :D and then stay silent. so silent.#im just so afraid of being a nuisance#ANYWAY#asks#scar stories and gore stories
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Gormenghast Body
A/N: I'm feeling too lazy to format this proper, or tag it proper. It's Hurt/comfort
Neurodivergent!Jon hasn't figured out a healthy way to cope with being overstimmed yet and almost has a panic attack/full blown meltdown. Eddie helps.
Being intentionally unteatherd from ones body, from needing to TendCareForceUsefullness for it, is a delicate process when done on purpose. He knows this, knows it helps even, but pushes the urge to ask as far down as he can make to go. As a result he floats away from himself at the most inconvenient of moments.
He's aware that they're all in the middle of dinner, while he's stuck looking up from the bottom of a swimming pool. Watching everything and everyone move around him, too far away too care
The music of the restaurant is distant, warbling through his watery mind sluggishly. He nods, a quick jut of the chin at a question someone asks him (he has no idea what the fuck it was, but the silent response must have been enough because no one is looking at him now), and he cannot feel it. The world is a never ending loop of BrightnessDarkness, rippling in his vision. Colors, shapes, distant rumbles of laughter all dulled by his disconnect, shades away from his physical body.
It'd be pleasant if he felt like he could breathe. He has no idea how long he's been holding his breath for, letting it out in a long gust of a BubbledAir.
"That was a big sigh." The voice next to him cuts so clear that Mox is totally back before he even finishes blinking. Fresh out of the pool startled, Eddie looking at him like he was drowning.
He might have been.
Mox shrugs, sinking in to his sweatshirt, pretending he didn't forget how to breathe. Like the obnoxious din of the restuarant wasn't grating on every freshly soaked nerve he has. Like he didn't not want to be here.
He can see the way Eddie had already pushed past his bullshit. Past the QuietSurfaceTired, right into that thrumming pool pump of anxiety in his chest.
He can't stop the way his leg bounces as he orients himself to the real world again, even as he tries to stop. But his skin's too tight, and silverware's too light in his hand, and his leg fuckin bounces along of its own will.
Eyefluttering, breathholding, pure fucking chlorine soaked Mox chances a glance at Eddie. Which was the wrong thing to do.
Maybe.
He's so jumbled up and weary that he doesn't know what the face Eddie is making means. Maybe it means he's mad.
Jon really fucking hopes he's not mad.
"Hey, I think we're good for tonight. Exhusted as shit-" Protests ring out from around the table, the cacophony of disappointment sits heavy in Mox's chest. "Nope, nah, don't want to hear it. If any of you motherfuckers want to sleep your hangovers off in the car tomorrow you're gonna let us-" Jon tries so so hard not to jump out of his skin as Eddie's hand connects with his chest. "Sit your dumbassery out."
He has no idea if Eddie pays, or it's for both of them, he waves a short goodbye over his shoulder but couldn't tell you who was sat at that table if his life depended on it.
He's all swim tired, head too light, and legs almost shaking as Eddie walks them back to the hotel. For summer the night is almost bitingly cold, must be the wind.
Yeah, the wind.
He's a pace or two behind Eddie, who is walking more slow, cautiously, than he usually does.
He's mad.
He has to be mad. Jon ignores the tightness at his throat.
He's breathing. It means nothing.
The hotel lobby is brighter than a football field, and the elevator is the same. Eddie doesn't protest or grumble as Jon pushes his body into his space. Or when he tucks his face into the crook of Eddie's neck. Just lays a heavy hand on his nape, thumb pressing soft circles into the skin.
Doing what he always does, feels obligated to do.
Jon wants to crawl out of his skin, he doesn't fucking deserve it. Not one bit. Not at all. Not when he definitely ruined the night.
He's not certain when they got to the hotel room, just knows because Eddie has to pry his StupidNeedyUseless frame off of his to open the door.
He follows Eddie in, trembling, as most of the lights are flicked low or off. The dimness of the room is warm, inviting, a fucking relief really.
"Hey, c'mere." Eddie wraps Jon up in an embrace, to soften the blow of the scolding that's sure to come. Has to be.
"Whoa hey, what the fuck? What you crying for? Thought you wanted to get outta there, looked like you were gonna float away if you didn't." Eddie wipes the tears from Jon's face with a tenderness that he can't quite wrap his brain around. When did he start crying?
He opens his mouth to try to say something, anything, and- and-
"You're not mad?" It's a pathetic, watery question, rasped out from the deepest part of his fear. He catches sight of some slouched, teary, shaking twentysomething in the reflection of the bedside lamp on his side. Skinny like he hasn't eaten enough, peaky and pale like he might throw up anyways. Was that him?
Was that really him?
Eddie's pulling him in close and tight again. Murmuring softly into his hair in a way he can't quite parse.
"No man, I'm fucking worried. You were sitting at our table all night but you weren't there. Where'd you go, huh?" His tone is fond, light but-
"I think it was too much, it was...one second I was there walking in with you and the next I was just," Jon's not sure how to finish the sentence, heart pounding.
"I don't know. It's like my brain puts me on autopilot." The need to move his body, shake out this weakness in it, burns in his fingers. He rolls his neck, pressing his palms into his eye sockets like he can compress the rest of his mind back into its container.
Tendrils of himself float away, riptide confetti, as he talks. He can't hold all of himself together like this, not alone.
"Can you just," Mox let's the words ping pong around till he can get them out of his mouth.
"Hit me, kiss me, I don't I just- take me out of my skull? Put me back together?" He grinds his teeth, he hates asking. Makes him feel like he's chewing glass.
Eddie watches him try to detangle the singular thought from his brain, the longer he thinks the more Mox is sure Eddie is gonna dump him on his ass and go back to the restaurant.
A car alarm goes off in the parking lot and Mox thinks he flinches. His vision snaps like he does.
"Yeah I can do that." Eddie's timber SinkMeltSmoothes its way into Mox's marrow. A warm hand sliding along his face, cupping his cheek makes him realize how cold he is.
The car alarm shuts off, and Mox is more than thankful for that. More than thankful when Eddie presses their mouths together sweetly, like he can pull Mox back onto land from the crush of their bodies alone.
Jon shivers, pressing closer, arms looping around his friend's shoulders as Eddie picks him up and lays him down gently in the bed. God, when did they start moving?
Eddie's kisses are warm molasses, soothing the distant cold ache in Mox's body. His heart finally slowing down as Eddie crowds into him, all soft and insistent. Like he wants this, like Jon isn't just someone he's obligated to care for, like he gets something from this too.
Jon sighs into his mouth pulling away from the kiss, holding himself close as he can still. His head is starting to slow down too, he's finding it easier to gently unravel the knots in his brain now.
"Hey." He breathes out softly, voice still on the edge of watery, eyes still stinging as if he might burst at the seams with tears at any moment.
"Hey yourself." Eddie grins back, eyes mirrors of his own.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to ask for this again. Maybe asking didn't mean waiting till someone noticed he was drowning already.
Maybe he should just kiss Eddie again.
So he does.
#briar writes#Jon Moxley#Eddie Kingston#EddieMox#listen is this probably ooc? yes#do I care right now? no#it made me feel good to write this so Imma post it just because I can#the drowning man came on when I was doing chores today and I can't resist a good song from The Cure
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anyone got any idea why i (USAmerican located in a major city) called 911 but no one ever came? is it possibly because i just dialed the number, pressed the call button, then didn't interact with my phone again in any way at all until after the call was over? no idea how/why the call end btw cuz i'm pretty sure i didn't do that, but also i was so out of it i almost thought i might have either dreamed/hallucinated calling 911 or perhaps dialed the wrong number, bc i also remember my vision was so fuckin blurry i had a really difficult time trying to unlock my phone, find the phonecall app, navigate to the number pad, and enter 911 (shaking so badly + couldnt hardly read so for all i knew it could just as easily have dialed like 877 or something like that).
also, fun fact is you can tell i must have been fucked all the way out of my mind because i would have called 999 instead if i had been at all able to think straight. like, to put into perspective just how dire these straits must have been, just know that in the past when people called 911 for me, the very first thing i did when i came back to (still unable to move or remember anything or think/speak clearly etc) was to berate them for not calling 999 instead.
anyways, that was my first time calling 911, so i'm not personally intimately familiar with the exact process. however other people have called 911 for me multiple times (always with an arrival time of like 5-10min give or take fwiw), and from what they recounted to me of the event(s), i know the first thing that happens after you dial/call 911 is you get an automated menu with… idr how many choices, but i know it's at least 2 (something like “press 1 for police” or “press 2 for ems” & now that i think of it, i'd bet there might also be something like “press 3 for fire department” too maybe, idk). anyways, the point i'm trying to make here is i wonder if maybe the call automatically gets dropped (almost as if it had never been placed to begin with) if you don't select any input(s) at that menu?
another possibility i just thought of rn is maybe 911 did come out to my general area, but they weren’t able to pinpoint my exact location? i notice that gps devices tend to struggle to pick up on any detailed data in this neighborhood that i recently moved to, like you often can't even see any houses or streets, nada. on top of that, i now live in a duplex which i can only imagine must be the world's most confusing construction of its kind because 9/10 delivery people are unable to find my side of the place. you'd think 911 would be equipped with more advanced technology, or at the very least that they'd put some real thorough effort into their search for an emergency, but idk maybe not.
man i even remember stumbling over to the front door, barely able to walk, to unlock the damn thing so that the police/ems wouldn't have to kick the door down or whatever in order to get in. i really did NOT wanna have to pay to fix or replace the door/locks/frame or whatever lol. literally this was incredibly urgent to me, even during what i genuinely believed may very well be my very last couple of seconds or minutes Alive here on this earth. uh huh, proud to say i am certifiably to remain a cheap bastard right up until my bitter end. that's 1 of maybe 2 total good qualities that i inherited from my father, so i'll take it!
Any ways, moving on to my next point of confusion, i'm sure we've all seen how in the movies sometimes if a character gets seriously injured or w/e, then uses up all of their remaining strength to call 911 before passing out without ever hanging up the phone or making any noise loud enough so as to be audible to the 911 operator, well it doesn't matter bc 911 is able to trace the location of the call, and they show up anyways just to check everything out at least. for ex: i recently watched the ep of sopranos (end of s5/start of s6, idr exactly?) where tony gets shot and then both he & 911 do exactly as i described above.
i asked my mom about all of this, and she just seemed to get a little mad at me and said "911 always comes no matter what. you must have been hallucinating. why didn't you call me instead. i would have been over there right away if you called me but didnt say anything." well my call log sure don't lie do it mother fucker!
well, to wrap this up, in hindsight i am actually really fuckin glad that nothing came of this. still now i'm gonna always wonder what if i really had been unable to recover without medical assistance that day? it just doesn't seem right to me that if you're so unwell that you're physically incapable of speaking or seeing or controlling your fine motor functions well enough & for long enough to get thru the 911 door boss, then it's too fuckin bad for you, your sorry ass is gonna get left to die like a dog convulsing & gasping on the floor in a pool of your own sweat, piss, shit, tears, mucosa, & whatever else i can't all remember. i mean come on, if you can tell 911 your location & describe your emergency, then it can't really be all THAT urgent, now can it?
and now i'm always gonna have that in the back of my mind, wondering what if something bad ever happens to me in the future, but i don't get so lucky again? all i know is what happened to me the other day would have been such a horrible death to die, and that's not even to mention the equally horrible state in which my body would have been found (common paranoia of mine btw, y'all don't even wanna know how many times i've found myself trying to decide whether it'd be more humiliating to die in the shower or on the toilet like elvis. i typically seem to prefer the shower/bath tub personally. how about y'all? weigh in in the comments below, and let's settle this once & for all! please god, before it's too late for me).
however & whenever i die, this experience has left me hoping that i will, at The very least, not be aware enough of anything whatever might be happening to me for any such panicked & ashamed thoughts the likes of which ran thru my head so uncontrollably that scarcely any of them were fully comprehensible at the time. i tried to imagine just how wild of a case study some doctors might write about my death, the kind of thing you read & say to yourself, "i can't believe anyone would be stupid enough to try that in the first place," or perhaps something along those lines.
but looking back on it, let's just say one thing i learned is that if the events of the other day serve as any indication at all, then what i'll regret more than anything when (and if) i'm old & laying down to die in my death bed when my life suddenly flashes before my eyes will be neither some cliche like "missed opportunities" nor any of the plethora of poor life choices that i've made (not to mention all those that i likely have yet to make). my biggest regret is bigger than any of that. that i now must live with the memory for the rest of my days (however many or few i may have left is anyone's guess, apparently) is a fate worse than death, despite the fact that i was the sole witness (and hardly a true "witness" at that, considering that i was at least halfway blind and more than halfway out of my fucking mind thru it all) to the event.
i'm deeply ashamed to admit this, but i keep no secrets here on my tumblr blog, so here it is: my biggest regret is shitting my pants and then calling 911 without first taking a shower. thank fucking god no one came to check on my call. i think i genuinely may have died that day had that happened, of embarrassment that is. if not, certainly would have been suicide at my next available opportunity. there's some shit (pun intended, of course, haha) in this life you just can't ever come back from.
#this post is such a mess but im tired of looking at it so w/e just gonna hit publish#started writing this the other day; havent felt right since the incident; slowly getting a little better each day#long post
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Typed this out last night and fell asleep without posting - still dressed and with the lights on, even
My uncle just flew in from Thailand to like help my dad some with their mum's funeral uhhh stuff
And obviously he's exhausted and it's a fuckin awful awful situation but idk like
My dad's been working out like who's gonna come and stuff, all my nana's friends and her facebook groups an all sorts, he's doing all the logistics and like most everything, and my uncle's gonna pay for it cs he's the business guy right
We've been talking a little bit in code cs my grandad has Alzheimer's and we don't want to upset him? But I think that's what's sorta been agreed
Also dad's sent an email to the Alzheimer's Society asking for advice of what we should do about grandad, if to tell him and upset him every 2 days, or to kinda leave it and say she's at hospital when he asks - dad also says that grandad's unlikely to last a year, this morning, which I didn't fully know
Anyway dad's done maths and my uncle hears there might be 60 people coming to Nana's - we don't have a huge family, there's maybe 15-20 family and the rest will be friends - and he says "no, we have to do something about that, I can't do that"
Which, totally fair enough to be socially anxious an stuff - maybe he's thinking he has to stand and talk, cs he's the oldest son, but there's no set way to do a funeral, he doesn't have to do that - absolutely totally fair, and it'd be fucking awful even without it being your mum's funeral
But who the fuck can we turn away, you can't turn people away from a funeral - from saying goodbye to someone they've known for 50 years, or who helped them through their cancer in between dealing with her own, or I don't know what else, she had a whole bunch of fb groups - she was a force of nature, and she helped a ton of people, and lots of people loved her, and I know it's hard and I know he has like social anxiety problems and fucking nobody wants to talk to ~60 strangers and/or people he hasn't seen for 30 years, for three hours, full stop, let alone in this fucking awful situation, but I don't know what else we can do?
Dad and him are going to the funeral people, they've got an appointment tomorrow morning to figure some stuff out, idk if they'll have an idea of what to do - dad says valium would help, but my uncle is not the sort as would agree to that, and my stepmum says maybe he can stay for a short while and then go uh like say he has to go and sit with his dad cs we couldn't organise an all-day carer (tho my dad's sorted that already, pending a date), which I think is probably the closest to a solution we can manage tbh
Oh I don't bloody know
Nice thing tho, I went out and got some lavender from the garden - her lavender, that dad says originally came from her mum's garden - to hang up and dry, so to sort of send with her? It was mum's idea, I think it's a nice one - dad helped me tie it up to hang on a hook in the garage, y'know, I'll find a nice ribbon for it - tho I imagine we'll (or dad will, he's been nonstop, I'm amazed in between my sadness) have to ask a funeral person if that's okay
But then mum's friend, her funeral was today, and they sent her off with - I forget which, but some nice greenery - like, with her - so it must be okay
I know that nana's funeral is going to be in about 2 weeks, but I need to remember to tell dad tomorrow that my granny's one is on the 24th, so if possible to avoid that day, so that I can go to both
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Hi this is a long ass vent post about random bullshit. Dont have to read if ya dont wanna. Have a nice day <3
hi there is so much shit that I wanna do with my life but ADD/ADHD/whatever the fuck I have is fucking me over big time cuz even if I want to put in the work to learn something or make a big step towards a goal my brain just doesnt fucking let me
I wanna learn piano. I wanna learn guitar. I wanna learn to sing. I can't sit down and teach myself. I lose focus way too fuckin fast, and go off to do something else. Any time I get a decent practice routine going, it falls apart within a week or two at best. On top of that, I can't even sit down and find myself a private teacher, cuz every time I sit down and start searching for one, I get overwhelmed, and brain takes me elsewhere, and nothing ever happens.
I have a big audition tomorrow, supposedly, but Im thinking now that I might not be able to do it. Cuz
A: I'm not prepared. I need 1 contemporary monologue, 1 classical (Preferably shakespeare) monologue, and 16 bars from any broadway musical. I have the contemporary monologue, but I don't have a shakespeare monologue ready. On top of that, I think I might have a song, but its definitely not perfect due to my complete lack of training, and it's count structure is weird to the point that 16 bars sounds like a musical phrase, plus a tiny bit of the next. And its weirding me out, cuz I don't know if that would weird out the judges or whatever the fuck they're called.
B: They ask for some info on the paper. They want a summary of my previous theatrical experience (Which is a grand total of 0 for me) and three references who are familiar with my achievements. I don't want to put somebody's name down without acting first, I think that would be extremely disrespectful, and I don't want to leave a whole-ass section blank. Maybe things from high school that got cut off because of covid could count for the summary part, but I doubt it.
C: I haven't told my fucking parents that its tomorrow! and I don't know what to do about that! If I mention it now, they're gonna get on me for not being prepared! If I don't mention it now, they're gonna get on me for not being prepared! If I do either of these, and then don't go audition, they're gonna get on me for fucking up my college plan! which they're paying for! I'm a lucky enough motherfucker that they've had a decent enough income to be able to put away money each year to give me a college fund! I'm gonna graduate debt free, more than likely! I'm a lucky motherfucker and I'm throwin shit out the window! They're not exactly the type to get like. really pissed at me, they won't yell, but goddamn that conversation isnt going to be fun!!!!
D: MY OWN ANXIETIES ABOUT MY FUTURE! This SSA program is gonna fucking eat up time like nobody's fucking business. If I remember right, I'm required by the program to audition for every major production being put on at the college, and if I'm cast, I am required to take part (barring unfortunate circumstances.) I don't even really want to do stage acting that much! I wanna be a screen and voice actor! And even then, the industry sounds more and more like hell every fucking day! It sounds like a huge-ass time sink for an ultra competitive market. If I want to have a chance of making a living, let alone making it "big," I have to sacrifice my literal fucking everything; time, hobbies, friends, yadda fucking yadda. And that fucking terrifies me! And thats. That shit, I guess. Theres more underlying meaning that I don't know how to put into words, and I'm sure theres a ton of shit that I didn't properly express, but thats the main chunk of shit.
I want to audition for Hololive/Holostars EN. Weird pivot on this vent post, I know, but whatever. its on my mind. Mind you, I have absolutely 0 streaming experience and next to 0 content creation experience. My brain tells me that theres no way in hell that I'd even make it past the first round of auditions. I'm missing 80% of their "not required, but heavily encouraged :)" requirements. But god dammit something in my heart and something in my gut says that I have a chance. That I could pull it off. That I could do well. I have some decent improv chops. I've done roleplay in VrChat. I can play and maintain a character. God dammit, I was fucking PEPSIMAN in VrChat for over a year and a half, and I maintained a constant bit and personality that whole time, with evolving lore and some sense of coherency. And I was entertaining! I interacted with random strangers in The Great Pug and 7 times out of 10 they thought I was funny! Interesting! Whatever the fuck! Nowadays, I run around as a clown! I run around as Kefka! And people love me! They think I'm funny! I routinely make a fool out of myself in public! I goof around, tell jokes, dance on stage! I love being an entertainer! I made some of the best friends I've ever known because I was Pepsiman! and you know what! Those friends say that they think I could pull it off too! And I don't think they're just saying it to be supportive! And I'm sure you're thinking "Why dont you just stream independently?" I know my style. How I entertain. Im at my best when I'm bouncing off people. Spectators. Random motherfuckers in The Pug. I feel like my big "thing" streaming would more than likely be chat interaction. And you know what streamers never have at the start? An active chatroom. I can't bounce off a chat if they aint there. On top of that, streaming to like. 3 people tops, two of whom are probably just supportive friends, for months on end? I can't do it. That shit would kill me. Maybe its bad that I'm motivated by the numbers, but I know for a fact that doing it to NOBODY just wouldn't work with my brain. I'd end up quitting. Holostars would give me that push, throw me into the deep end, throw thousands of random people at me. I know its not a good thing, but I need that head start. Otherwise it just won't work. And then what if I do get in? I floated auditioning by my mother, and she seemed to think it was just something like a "side gig." Something to do on the side while I got a real job or some shit. As far as I can tell, being a holostar vtuber is a full time job. Shit aint just playin viddy games for a few hours a day, theres background shit ya gotta do. preparation. Many, if not all of the boys, do music too. They do whatever the fuck a "voice pack" is. If I were to make it, thats a huge-ass life change. That'd be my JOB. At that point, do I drop out of college to focus on it? Do I do both and risk burning myself out? On top of that, what if I do get into the SSA program, requiring me to audition and take part in productions? Then I'm ultra-fucked on time. It'd be a huge balancing act of scheduling and bullshit with no time to myself.
Hello. This was. long as fuck. And rambly. Basically just a dump of all my thoughts of my future right now. Dont know how to feel about that. If you read all this shit, thanks, I guess, ya didn't really have to do that. I'm kinda just throwing this out into the aether for no reason at this point. Whatever happens happens. Have a nice day
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Posting a mental dialogue I've been stuck in for a few weeks because laying it out tangibly might help me out<3
For now, I'm uncomfortable with reblogs. Replies are okay though!
Long post, lots of text below-- talks in-depth about guilt, burdensome feelings, rejection-sensitive dysphoria, childhood emotional trauma, emotional parents abuse, hopelessness, insecurity, mental illness
I want to ask a coworker to hang out
Okay? Go for it
But he's been really tired lately. Can't sleep
Ah, well. There's no harm in asking
But I've asked a few times before and been declined
Oh I'm sorry. Did he say why?
Yeah-- he's been tired, busy, or both
Oh that's all? He didn't like.. insinuate that he didn't wanna hang with you?
... no, but being rejected that many times could mean he doesn't wanna hang at all
Well... I get it, but what's the harm in asking? Or checking that he does want to hang but hasn't been able to?
I don't want to be/act/seem desperate. I've incessantly checked with him about little stuff before. I can't afford to do it anymore/any time soon. Also he doesn't initiate interaction with me. He's super receptive when interacted with but he doesn't do it first. Some of it is him being tired, but to an extent he's just Like That™️, and I used to just confidently stride up and interact with him, but now I'm worried I'll annoy him because I care about him as a friend. even though I told him to please tell me if I'm ever bothering him and he said okay but hasn't said anything yet
... er, okay, well... maybe you could tell him that occasional explicit affirmations would be helpful for you? So that you aren't trapped in your head whenever you work shifts with him?
That's pathetic
??? I???????????????
Like. Come on he's this almost-30 y/o man trying to get by in this economy with one (1) fast food job. He doesn't need some mentally ill 20-something y/o nonbinary person being all like "hhh reassure me because I'm mentally I'll and can't reassure myself 👉👈"
Well like... okay, first of all? He's mentally ill too. Second? He told you he would tell you if you need to back off. Third?... okay, that point is a little more sound actually... it's not his responsibility to constantly reaffirm that you're friends and that he enjoys you when he hasn't done anything to imply otherwise. ... besides not being initiative and, sure, ~possibly~ besides turning you down.
Yeah see? Exactly
Well right, but. if you can get the ball rolling on more treatment for your mental health... you'll be directly on track toward weaning away from that need. So it might be more reasonable to ask that of him with that in mind-- it won't need to be forever, and being actively treated takes away from some of that "hhh I'll be better ~sometime~ I swear" limbo
... I mean... .. ...Fine, okay. Sure, let's say that would all play out okay. Now how do you propose we finally just get that fuckin ball rolling, hm? The one we have needed to do and haven't been able to do for at least 4 years???
... fucc
That brings up a world of problems. Can't do in-person therapy in this fuckin economy. Don't have the spoons to keep scheduling and attending with everything going on in my life at any given fuckin time. Meds + mindfulness are not nearly enough-- I need intensive fuckin treatment for a very long time. Which I don't have the fuckin spoons for because, again, I've been way into the negatives for years now. It would take like years to pay back that debt, build into spoon equilibrium and then... finally... maybe... even have positive spoons? and then extra spoons to spare and/or save up at the end of the day???? Like are you kidding me? He's just some guy, he doesn't deserve to be made to deal with this bullshit
... right right... okay, just. What about inpatient?
I-I'm sorry???? That's almost fuckin laughable. You know "what" about inpatient. Telling my family (the reason I need it) I'm going. which I can't not do because I'm a dependent and they are my health care. Them insisting we talk about it, since it's their money-- ideally, I don't ~really~ need to go. So then being gaslit out of it, convinced I don't truly need it and having (further!!!) internalized taking all costs to avoid being burdensome.
Oh and for anyone bothering to read, we are very well off. My family is upper-middle class. We/they vacation at least once a year. Money is just not that pressing of an issue. Yeah spending is never ideal, but we have much expendable income that we use on things we don't need need-- we pay a cleaning lady to purge the house every couple weeks for fuck's sake.
Oh and the natural thing for me to say next: "... so they could easily make some sacrifices on the more luxury expenses they choose to make in order to pay for my health care"? Yeah not a fucking chance. As said before, I have so heavily internalized not being a burden... I can barely handle being anything but above and beyond for people. I feel deep, immense, inescapable guilt just at the notion of potentially inconveniencing someone. I feel this guilt so fucking hard when I know it will burden/inconvenience someone, or when I think I know. And especially when it actually happens and someone tells me so. Which... is my entire fucking problem here. It's not truly about my coworker, it's straight up that.
... y. yeah. No deadass, all of that is correct. That's the situation, that's how you feel, that's the trauma you have, that's how it manifests and interferes with your interpersonal relationships.
Oh but I'm not done! That's just the big "what" about inpatient. How about the fact that we barely have enough fucking spoons to shower after work each day (and to be honest? Only because it's an ABSOLUTE NECESSITY-- I work fast food)? The fact that we can't brush our teeth most days? The fact that we're struggling to eat lately because of appetite problems, meds, and timing? Like how in the goddamn fuck are we -- with everything going on in my personal life, the sociopolitical climate, the world, and my behind-the-scenes trauma -- gonna muster up the spoons to take those HUGE FUCKING steps?
And then just to be slammed with the big "what" from before? Absolutely fucking not. I straight up cannot afford to gamble that many spoons. Not if I want to.. literally be alive
I.. I know... I'm sorry... it just sucks because... getting into inpatient would be exactly the thing we need to get into inpatient... Once again, the services for my disabilities are specifically inaccessible to the people who have those disabilities...
... yeah... I'm sorry... I wish I could be more optimistic about it all, but with all that and what's going on in the world and the fact that Fletcher is gone?...
No yeah... I get it... I just wish we weren't so... utterly powerless. I know asking for help getting into inpatient would be the only thing we could do, but I also know that I get this sort of behavioral/verbal paralysis when I try to ask for help because of my "guilt over burdening" issues... and when I do manage to start?... I severely downplay how much I need help and how much of it I need... and will shut down and brush it aside as "okay yeah no worries" immediately upon any opposition... part of why I dread having to bring it up to my parents...
Yeah... that's exactly it... I guess for now we can ask friends for a little help? We can have a little help, as a treat right? And then maybe ask [psychiatrist] to help?
... yeah... yeah. I think so. What, um... what are we going to ask for though? "Help me" is awfully vague
Er... well... I. I fucking guess... we could ask for a friend to occasionally provide explicit reassurance of our relationship unprompted...
Yeah.. yeah, I like that. 💚
#thank you for coming to my ted talk#if you actually read through all of this. hi I'm love you#in case you're wondering. yes it did help me out#thank you for letting me post this (I say as if you could. somehow bar me from doing it ucyvhgydujtj)#kindly refrain from reblogging! replies are okay ^^
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Lenny sensei's night class has begun!~♡
“Senpai~♡”
synopsis 💭;; Tanaka gets jealous bc some bitch talking to his man.
note 🖋️;; IT TOOK A WHOLE FUCKIN WEEK TO WRITE THIS. WHY DOES WORK ALWAYS PREVENT ME FROM DOING THE THINGS I LIKE? WHAT THE ACTUAL FU- by the way, ‘Isayama Misaki’ is based off of some asswipe I used to know- also, I ran out of ideas at the end, so it kinda cuts of lf at the good part. I apologize to the anon that requested this.
Requested by anon ♡
Male pronouns used
Tanaka wasn't a jealous man. Or at least he'd like to think so.
(Y/n) was pretty popular around campus, so it wasn't a surprise to see a few fangirls here or there. It kinda reminded him of Oikawa—except (Y/n) didn't exactly pay his fangirls any attention. (And he didn't have an ass as flat as printer paper.) But did that stop them from trying to get into his pants? No.
In all honesty, Ryu felt lucky that he had someone like (Y/n) as a boyfriend, although he didn't like the fangirls—who paid him no mind whenever they were together. It annoyed him that they kept surrounding (Y/n) who clearly wanted nothing to do with them, begging him for dates, one night stands, anything.
To say that Tanaka was mildly uncomfortable was an understatement.
🌇🌇
Today was a bit different. Instead of a crowd of women rushing towards (Y/n), it was just one—; Misaki Isayama. The woman (almost) every guy considered perfect. This was...manageable, but what did she want? Well—at least it was only one girl. He had only woken up a little over an hour ago, and wasn't exactly ready for his simps just yet.
“(L/n)-chan, can you help me study for the science exam that's coming up?”
“Just because you're my upperclassman, doesn't mean you can call me that.” (Y/n) said quietly, rubbing his eyes, then yawning. “I'm on my way to the lecture hall though, so maybe after that? I should be fully awake by then..”
Misaki smiled and nodded her head. “It's a date!”
“No. No it's not.”
🏙️🏙️
Tanaka let (Y/n) lean on him during the lecture. That turned into one sided cuddling from the sleepy man. Ryu thought it was cute how (Y/n) always clung to him when he was sleepy. He was a little sad when (Y/n) fully awoke, and let him go, but it was for the best.
“Oh, Ryu-san. I'm tutoring the rumored ‘perfect woman’, and it's gonna be awkward with just the two of us, so can y—”
“You headin to the library? I was on my way there anyway. I'll join ya.”
The (h/c) haired man nodded, and they both walked all the way to the other side of the schoolyard to the library building. Tanaka even held (Y/n)'s hand to flex on the girls they passed by. Some of the girls were noticeably annoyed or a little angry, which pleased him.
When they finally arrived, Misaki was standing by the door. Upon seeing Ryu, she scowled. But it was only for a second.
“Ah, (L/n)-kun..who's this?”
(Y/n) smiled, oblivious to Misaki and Tanaka glaring at each other. Needless to say, the intense atmosphere went right over his head. “This is my boyfriend..Tanaka. He'll be joining us if that's okay.”
“‘Perfect woman’ my ass..the only ‘perfect woman’ I know is Kiyoko-san.” Tanaka mumbled under his breath. (Y/n) may not have known, but Misaki and Tanaka were always competitive with each other. Other times he wouldn't have cared, but now that (Y/n) is what he's fighting for, he wasn't gonna back down.
“Oh, it's fine.” Misaki said through gritted teeth.
🏙️🏙️
Isayama and Tanaka were left sitting at a table alone, while (Y/n) searched for the science books. They sat in complete silence, but it was almost as if you could hear their thoughts—mentally arguing with one another.
(Y/n) returned with three books, seating himself between Isayama and Ryu. “Okay! Let's get started!”
***
As (Y/n) went on explaining the laws of physics (because Tetsurou used to tutor him), Misaki and Tanaka continued their epic staring battle. The battle ended once they noticed that (Y/n) had stopped talking. He was chewing his tongue in thought, trying to figure out how to pronounce a word.
Misaki didn't notice, but (Y/n) had gone from physics, to microbiology. In less than five minutes.
“Something wrong?”
“How do you say this word again..?” The (e/c) eyed man pointed to a bolded word in the textbook, leaning back a bit so the other two could see.
A suffocating silence reigned over the three of them, but only for about three seconds.
Isayama squinted a bit before she spoke. “Endothelial?”
“Oh yeah. Thanks, senpai.”
Isayama smiled smugly at Ryuunosuke. The said man had a visible tick mark (💢) on the side of his head, symbolizing his annoyance. Tanaka only wanted (Y/n) to call him ‘senpai’—even if they were the same age (if not, then (Y/n) might be older). It made him feel like he was a dependable upperclassman, maybe even a bit turned on in certain situations. But hearing (Y/n) call someone else senpai..made him a little sad.
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone vibrating. As Tanaka reached into his pocket to get his phone, he caught (Y/n) putting his own phone in his jacket pocket. Tanaka turned on his phone to see a message from (Y/n) in his recent notifications.
Pretty boy💖: Go to the bathroom. I'll join you later.
Although he was a bit confused, he got up from his chair. “‘M gonna go take a leak.” Ryu said as he started to make his way towards the men's restroom.
Almost five minutes pass before (Y/n) goes into the bathroom after Tanaka, telling Misaki that he was checking on him. As soon as (Y/n) had passed the first bathroom stall, he was yanked into the second one, the door locking almost immediately after it shut behind him. He wasn't given any time to react before he felt a familiar pair of soft lips violently smash against his own. (Not violent enough to make his mouth bleed or anything. Chill.)
A heated battle for dominance arose between the two, (Y/n) quickly taking the lead as he gently bit Ryu's lip.
They didn't want this to end, but eventually Tanaka had to break the kiss because he couldn't breathe. He stood there, breathless in his boyfriend's arms, not wanting (Y/n) to let go.
“Ryuunosuke..” Tanaka flinched upon his first name being said—even though (Y/n) said it many times before. His reaction brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face. “I love you~..” He said, drawing out the three words in a sing-song voice.
Ryu felt his legs getting weak, and held onto (Y/n) for dear life. (Somewhat out of fear that he might fall.) He wasn't actually feeling like this because of three words...right? “Babe..am I supposed to be kinda horny right now?” It was a bit of a strange question, but hey, it never hurts to ask.
(Y/n) chuckled. “Well, yeah. I might have to carry you out of here once we're done.” His warm smile from earlier didn't falter as he spoke.
‘How can he say something like that so casually? If I say something like that, I'd get d–’ Ryu's thoughts were snapped away when he felt his chest touch the stall divider and his pants being pulled down. He let out a soft moan as (Y/n) stroked him through his boxers.
🏙️
‘What the hell is taking them so long?!’ Isayama got up from where she sat, and went to the men's bathroom. There wasn't anyone around, so no one would see her going in. She opened the first stall's door. ‘If they ditched me, I swear to go–’
“W-Wait, (Y/n)!~ Haa!~♡”
“Geez senpai, you're so wet inside~..♡”
Misaki froze. She couldn't be sure that it was (Y/n) and Tanaka in there—but those were definitely Tanaka's pants hanging over the second stall's door. Now she felt more..curious than angry. Isayama slipped into the first stall, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her, and slowly locking it so it didn't make noise.
Ryu tried to keep his breathing steady as (Y/n) fucked him with his fingers—even though that did absolutely nothing to help his current situation. Hell, he couldn't even process words anymore. The only actual word he could say was his boyfriend's name. He eventually remembered how to speak after about two minutes of being finger-fucked.
He wanted to sound more demanding, but his voice came out more whiny than what he'd have liked it to. “Fuck me already..ya fuckin– Hng!~” It may have been that he couldn't process it, or that (Y/n) had moved at the speed of sound, but Tanaka wasn't able to register how fast (Y/n) pulled his fingers out, and shoved his cock into his still tight hole. He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a choked whine.
“You were saying?~♡” (Y/n) asked, though it sounded more like a demand than a question.
Tanaka wasn't given a chance to answer due to (Y/n) ruthlessly fucking the poor man senseless. His loud whines and moans echoed throughout the bathroom, much to (Y/n)'s pleasure. He wanted everyone to know that he was a taken man. He wanted everyone on campus to hear Ryuunosuke's pleasurable cries.
Hearing the two men fucking in the next stall turned Isayama on to no end. (Even though it was more of (Y/n)'s voice that made her wet.) But she resisted touching herself because she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she masturbated to her rival getting fucked. (A kinda stupid reason, but okay.)
“Fu–fuck, (Y/n)!~ So good..it feels so good!~” Ryu babbled, the words almost incoherent as he attempted to push back against his boyfriend's cock. “More!~ Give me more!~♡” He begged, voice broken and choking on his own breath.
The (e/c) eyed man didn't say a word. As his senpai had politely asked of him, (Y/n) drove his cock so deep into Tanaka that the said man let out the loudest drawn out moan (Y/n) had ever heard from him. If it weren't for the cum spewing from the teary eyed man, (Y/n) would've thought he had hurt his lover. He wasn't entirely sure until he felt Ryu continue to push back against him, desperate for more friction.
“Aww..you're so cute when you act like a bitch in heat, senpai~..♡”
He only got a choked whine in response.
“I'm pretty close anyway..do you want it inside?~♡” (Y/n) asked, pulling the shaky man up to his chest. Again, only a whine. (Y/n) parted Ryu's lips with his fingers, those fingers soon being coated in saliva. “Use your words~..”
Finally, Tanaka spoke, despite his unintentional dry heaving. “Fuck me- please~..”
“As you wish~♡” (Y/n) almost whispered, gripping Tanaka's cock firmly, earning another broken moan from the said man. “You're the only person I'd fuck like this, you know that, right?” He said, as he rubbed the shorter man's stomach.
“Y-Yeah..that makes me happy~..”
Lmao this was like- 80% highschool drama (in a college setting), and the remaining 20% being me getting horny for no reason. Also, I'm aware this made no sense. None of the stuff I write makes sense. :)
The class session is now over!~♡
#tanaka x reader#tanaka x male reader#haikyuu x male reader#anime x male reader#m!reader#x male reader#top male reader#seme male reader#ryuunosuke x reader
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Chemistry Part 1
FlirtyFuckboy!Gojo x VirginLabPartner!Reader
I have the fattest crush on this idiot. This is mostly me fantasizing about interacting with him in college. I'm obsessed.
Probably going to keep this going. Maybe get Suguru involved later.
18+ Content: sexual scenarios and strong language, sexual harassment?, exhibitionism, teasing, dirty talk, dubcon, fingering
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(swoon - beach weather)
"Gojo, please. We have to focus." you plead with him, exhausted, as he plays around on his phone. The stick of his lollipop rolls around to the other side of his mouth. He shoots you a sideways glance over those trendy shades and smirks.
"Do you have a mouse in your pocket?" his eyes track down the scrolling screen in his hands.
"What?" you furrow your brow in confusion. You don't have the energy for his games right now. What is he on about?
"You said WE need to focus," he leans the chair back onto two legs, kicking his feet up on the table, "who is we? You and the mouse?" his nose wrinkles as he snickers to himself. His snarky grin is giving you a headache.
You huff and fix your glasses back on your nose.
This is absolutely pointless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When your chemistry professor pulled you aside after class, you expected to chat about your senior thesis. Instead, he all but got down on his knees and begged you to work with Gojo on the midterm lab.
"I have no one else for him." You groaned and turned away.
"That's not my headache." You stuffed books into your bag, ready to leave this conversation.
"Listen, I know he's a bit troublesome but if you just-"
"Troublesome? A bit troublesome? Really, professor?" he sighed at the look you gave him.
"Y/N, can you please just do me this favor? You owe me for pushing that late submission through last trimester." he's still holding that over your head?
"Oh come on! That's nowhere close to a fair trade." You have too much going on right now to have Satoru Gojo dropped onto your plate.
He crossed his arms, "I've already paired everyone up."
You scowled at him and threw your bag over your shoulder.
"He's yours."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You look at your watch. 8:30pm. Jesus.
"That's it." You drop your pen into the spine of your textbook. He raises his eyebrows as you push back your chair and stand up.
"Wai-wait, where are you going?" He watches you let your hair fall out of the bun on top of your head and you walk out of the library study room without another word.
You run your fingers through your hair and sigh, releasing your frustration. You have a long list of problems in your life and he will not be making that list tonight.
"Not so fast tiger" he strides up beside you out of nowhere. You roll your eyes and keep walking.
"Where we goin'?"
"I need coffee."
"Oh, when did this become a date?" he straightens the collar of his button-down and puffs out his chest.
'Insufferable' you keep your mouth shut. You refuse to react, turning the corner towards the library cafe.
"Slow down babe" he pops the sucker out of his mouth and takes a couple big steps with those freakishly long legs to catch up to you.
"Not your babe." Your face feels hot.
"You could be.." he leans forward and flashes you a flirty grin as you walk side by side up to the counter.
"Ugh" you scoff and shoo him away, stepping up to order. He clears his throat and nudges in front of you.
"Yes! Good evening, I'll have a large hot chocolate with extra whip," he gestures to you, "and for the pretty lady?" you glare at him.
"...macchiatto, double shot, please." You turn and spit fire at him, "this is not a date, jackass."
He smugly whips his card from his wallet, "And yet, I'm paying for your coffee.." The wink he throws at you is lethal.
There's no way he isn't pleased by the blush in your cheeks. You try to convince yourself that it's the rage...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You just cannot stand him. Always disrupting class with stupid jokes. Erupting into obnoxious laughter out of nowhere in the back with his buddies. His whole devil-may-care attitude might pull other girls, but there's no way you have any feelings for this idiot other than irritation.
You've seen him in action all over campus. Tickling some little freshman under the chin outside the dining hall, making her giggle and flip her hair. Another poor clueless girl falling headfirst into his trap. You roll your eyes and go about your business. You don’t need any of that from him. You have purposely kept your distance for the last 3 years, doing your best to stay off his radar.
That didn't stop him from trying to peek under your skirt last week in lab. You were leaning over the table, reaching up for a beaker. You didn't notice him tilting back in his chair to lift the fabric with his finger until Suguru snorted out a squashed laugh. You whipped around and swatted at his hand. He shook his fingers and sucked his teeth,
"Ouch..I was just lookin’ honey..wasn't gonna touch.." that nasty little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
"GOJO. GETO. Knock it off!" Your professor barked from his desk, hearing the laughter.
"Sorry teach! She just looks so cute in this skirt today." He called out with absolutely no shame, eyes trained on your flustered face,
"GOJO! That's enough."
“really fuckin’ cute..” he added under his breath, rolling his lollipop on his tongue.
You'd never been so embarrassed. You flipped back around and snatched the beaker, holding the back of your skirt down, before rushing to the other side of the lab bench. Your cheeks burned through the rest of class. You will not be wearing that skirt to lab again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He stares after you. Your hair sways back and forth as you strut down the hall away from him. It brushes just shy of your belt loop. He bites down on his lollipop watching the way your hips swing.
You’re so fucking hot when you're mad...
He hums a groan under his breath and jogs to catch up.
"Okay stop.." He grabs your icy shoulder to try and slow your roll. You sip your coffee and shrug his hand off, you don’t even look at him.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know I tease you too much.” You’re not buying it. Gojo is many things, but sincere isn’t one of them.
“Hey! I was just messing with you, you don’t have to be so-“ he trips a few steps past you when you stop dead, leaving him to spin back around.
“SO WHAT? So serious? So mean? Do you think I’m a bitch? How would you like me to act Gojo? HUH? What would please you? I’m not a little freshman play toy. I’ve had ENOUGH of your bullshit! We need to get back and get this fucking midterm done because I will NOT let you drag my grade down! Is that clear?!”
Your shoulders heave and your hands feel shaky from the cathartic release. That felt good. You’ve never raised your voice at someone like that. You tend to avoid confrontation, but he just brings the fire out of you. You glare at the open-mouthed dumbstruck look on his face.
Silence fills the hallway. He’s stunned. You’ve never seen him so still, or quiet. He finally shuts his mouth and you see his eyes flick to your left.
He moves toward you with a stern look on his face. Your stomach flips.
Is he mad? He’s never mad.
“Come with me.” He takes your arm.
“No, why?” You yank away and furrow your brows. He takes his hand off you and raises both in surrender. He lets out a heavy sigh, walks over, and opens the door to your left.
“Just come on.”
You stay put and examine him, weary of his change in demeanor. It’s not anger. Almost smells like defeat. You relent and pass through the doorway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(drew barrymore - bryce vine)
You look around to find yourself in an unfamiliar, dimly lit area of the stacks. The school library is a labyrinth and you’ve never been in through this door before. The nearest light sits on a desk by the windows about 6 or 7 rows down.
You turn to see him placing his coffee cup in a gap on the shelf. You swallow hard, suddenly nervous and regretting the way you shouted at him. He doesn’t seem like himself. He steps forward and you step back, maintaining distance. You try to step back again but the shelves block you. You clutch your coffee as he gets closer than you’d like him to be.
“I’ve never heard you swear before.” His remark surprises you. He takes the cup from your hands and sets it on a shelf. His voice is hushed and you're not sure you like the way he's looking at you.
“Well you were pissing me off..” he’s in your personal space and you’re suddenly conscious of your breathing.
“Mm, that’s fair. Just didn’t know you used those kinds of words.” He gently teases you again and your face grows hot. You roll your eyes at him for the millionth time, trying to shake off this weird tension between you.
“Gojo, what are we doing in here?”
“You were making a scene.”
“I wasn’t, you just wouldn’t-“
“Have you ever been fucked?”
Your heart dives into your stomach.
His eyes flick down to your lips.
“I bet you haven’t.”
Is he messing with you again? This is outrageous.
“That’s none of your business.”
He clicks his tongue and drops his chin, leaning forward just a little more.
“Nah, I can tell. No one’s ever touched you.”
You hold your breath as his fingers ghost over the goosebumps on your arm. Sparks fly off your skin and your heart races around in your chest. His words tie a dirty little knot into your guts.
“Have you ever touched yourself?”
You huff at his audacity. Now he’s just being rude. He hums back and lightly bumps his hips into yours. You bump back into the stacks.
“Mhm, I bet you do it all the time. Does it make you feel good?”
Your eyes dart away to escape the intensity of his eye contact. He really has no shame. You see his grin widen out of the corner of your eye.
"D'you make yourself cum?"
Heat surges up into your face and down between your legs in the same instant. You try to hide it but you're completely flustered. He can see it all over your face. His cock throbs against his zipper, picturing you touching your own body.
His hand comes up by your head and he leans against the shelves, caging you in.
“Wonder what kind of pretty sounds you can make.” He just keeps going, you shift your weight, and flinch when his hand lands on your waist.
“What d'you think about with your fingers in your cunt?” Your eyes jump back to him at the vulgar words. He squeezes your waist and the little knot twists again. You pull a quick breath when he leans in next to your ear.
“D'you think about me?” He whispers too close, it triggers a wash of chills over your skin. Your walls tighten inside you. His hand starts sliding up the curve of your waist and slips under your shirt. Your exhale catches his ear as he cups your bra.
“Is that a yes?” He squeezes and his other hand moves to skate around your shoulder and under your hair. He blindly unclasps your bra through your shirt like he’s done it a thousand times. His fingers then quickly find their way to your nipples and start to play.
You bite hard into your lip to stifle your moan but he hears it in your throat. He smirks. This is your first time and it fucking shows.
“Your imagination ain’t enough, is it?”
His impish sneer wrinkles his nose and he bites down on the stick of his sucker before pulling it out of his mouth. Your mouth falls open with a sigh when he pinches a little harder and he drops it on your tongue. It’s cherry-flavored and you don’t think twice as you fold your lips around it.
Gojo likes what he sees.
“Pretty girl, I can think of so many things to do with that mouth.”
His knee nudges between your thighs and pushes up against your heat. You hum and your tongue curls around the lollipop. His hands leave your breasts to squeeze your hips and rock you on his thigh. You crunch down on the candy and grasp at his shirt at the sudden friction. Your breath comes out hot and you look up at him with big puppy eyes.
“You like that, hm?”
You nod automatically. Waves of pleasure radiate from your clit, and tug on the knot in your core. You drop your weight down onto him against your will.
What has gotten into you?
"D'you want me to play with you? Want me to show you how good this can feel?"
"Hng..ah.." he pushes into you, pressing you against the stacks. You paw at his shoulders to steady yourself as he adds even more pressure between your legs.
"There we go.." he sweeps your hair off your neck and his lips hit your skin. Electricity hums through your nerves.
"Ohh.." a hushed little moan rolls off your tongue. His hands slide back up under your shirt and continue groping your breasts.
"Such a frustrated little virgin.."
"Mmmh.." that moan came out a little louder, your whole body feels like it's resonating. He drags his tongue up your neck.
"I can fix that.."
It's just too much. Your head thumps back into the books.
"Oh my god.."
You've never felt anything this hot. It's similar to the times you've laid in bed exploring your own body, but this just feels so much better. You don't even care that it's him.
Maybe it's better because it is.
Gojo can’t believe the sounds you’re making for him. He’s finally caught his mouse and you aren’t even putting up a fight.
Little do you know, he's been simping over you since freshman year.
There’s something about you. The sweet innocence is there, but you also have this sharp little attitude that he just can't resist. The combination has always intrigued him.
And you don’t even realize what you do to him. You don't know how much you turn him on. He can't stand it when you walk into class wearing those overall shorts that hug your ass just right. That headband you wear is ridiculously sexy. And you’re so damn smart.
He daydreams in class about fucking you on every surface in the lab.
You’ve deflected every one of his advances, yet you always storm off with a flush in your cheeks. You’re the one thing he’s not allowed to touch. The toy on the shelf that he hasn’t been able to reach.
Until now.
"Don't play coy with me anymore," he whispers in your ear.
"Be honest. You liked it when I lifted your skirt last week, didn't you?"
You hum as he squeezes your ass.
"I saw those lacey little panties, y'know.."
He moves his thigh out from between your legs and you're embarrassed by the needy feeling that hits you. He looks at your desperate blushy face and grins.
"Are you wearing them right now?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You blink and he's already unzipped your fly. Your heart punches at your ribs when you feel his hand slide down inside. His fingers start rubbing into your slit through your panties and your entire body shudders. Your hands fly onto his forearm when he bumps into your clit. He pauses there and eats up the fervent arousal painted on your cute face.
“You can tell me to stop..” He knows you won’t. He keeps rubbing.
The sexual frustration is radiating off you like a heater.
He's so right. You’re dying to be touched like this.
Your mind is running in a hundred different directions, trying to decide what to do, but the way he's massaging your throbbing clit is melting your focus and dismantling your will.
He pushes in on your sensitive bud and you gasp, gripping his arm and shaking your head.
“Use your words, what d'you want me to do?” He rolls it around under his finger, pulsing pleasure through you like you've never felt before.
He bites the end of the stick hanging from your lips and takes it back. He rolls it to the corner of his smirk and waits for you to give in and answer him.
You know what you should do but the aching twist in your core won't let you.
“Mmph...don’t stop..”
“That's what I thought..”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Part 2
#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo imagine#gojo fanfic#satoru gojo smut#gojo simp
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okay so I watched Morbius, Sonic 2, and Batman today with my irl pal @duran-duran-less-official and those last two were both great and there's not much else to say, everyone already knows that the Batman is excellent and you should watch it, and if you liked Sonic 1 you'll love Sonic 2 even more, if you didn't like Sonic 1 you probably won't care for Sonic 2
but if you're on the fence about going to see Morbius my recommendation is mmmaybe if you have like a coupon or something? (like I did, because that's the only way I could afford to see three movies in one day, triple feature day babyyy) or just wait to stream it because I assure you it really isn't worth the cinema price but also it wasn't terrible
Morbius spoilers ahead (not that there's a lot to spoil it's pretty basic)
at the very least, I was somewhat entertained, Jared Leto's acting was surprisingly fine if a bit uninteresting, the love interest is boring, has no backstory, no motivations other than being unexplainably ride and die for Morbius, and they have zero chemistry
MATT SMITH ON THE OTHER HAND
I'm partially convinced they cast Jared Leto as a desperate attempt to have his white hetero fuckboy energy drown out Milo's INCREDIBLY gay chemistry with Morbius (spoiler alert they failed), Matt Smith fuckin' carried this movie, the man was born to play a villain, and sony are cowards for trying to no homo them with the obligatory random hetero makeout sesh in act 3
he wanted them to elope together bruh 😩
also this movie had a lot of influences from other vampire movies which shouldn't be a bad thing but all it did was remind me that I could be watching a better vampire movie right now
like if this film came out at the same time as Underworld it probably would have hit better, it has a lot of the same Vibes and the poor cg would be excusable
and Milo constantly whispering Miiichaaeeel is a peak Lost Boys reference and also really doesn't make the gay subtext any less gay
the cg was terrible a lot but also some of the effects were really fun and the vampire face was hit and miss (I LOVED the parts where it came out for like a second when he was emotional, like just a flash of teeth and eyes before he got control again I could eat that shit up) I liked the whispy flying effects, they made no sense but looked super dope
also yeah the story is pretty meh, it's like they had all the pieces for a really cool movie and got a toddler to put them together, a lot of stuff just didn't really make sense, some scenes were kinda unclear, the fights had moments of cool interspersed between a fuckton of shaky cam and bad cg, and honestly there should have been way more focus on the vampire stuff, and Morbius and Milo's relationship, and less of the medical stuff and the shitty love interest, or at the very least they could make the medical stuff more interesting because the first act dragged so much, Milo's more consistent presence in the third act is what really made the movie worth seeing tbh
the whole bit where Morbius is testing his powers and timing how often he has to drink blood before he loses control should have been a lot more engaging like I WANTED to be invested, but it just felt super lazily done
also the love interest (if you're wondering why I'm not using her name it's because I don't remember it she made that little an impact) at one point gets knocked over by a thug, passes out, and then is taken to hospital and intubated?? she was definitely not injured enough for that to make sense, it would have been way more interesting if Morbius seriously wounded her by accident on his rampage, at least then it would add extra weight to the scene where he refuses to give the treatment to Milo because he doesn't want him to hurt someone he loves (perhaps insinuating he might kill their doctor/father figure by accident which would then make it hurt much more when Milo kills him deliberately later in the movie)
so tldr, don't pay cinema prices for this, but maybe check it out for Matt Smith's performance alone, he was a lot of fun
and I would absolutely read fanfic exploring Morbius and Milo's relationship more, I was left VERY unfulfilled
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gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au
as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings
Stuck with You
Words: 5.5k
Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.
"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.
Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.
"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"
"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.
Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.
Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.
In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.
The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.
The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."
Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.
"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.
The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.
"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.
"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.
"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.
"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"
Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?
"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."
"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.
"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.
"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.
"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.
"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.
Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."
"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."
Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.
"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.
"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."
There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.
"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.
"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.
"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."
"My name's Ian, by the way."
"Don't care."
"Where are we going?"
"Chicago."
--
Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'
Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.
Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.
The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"
Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.
"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.
The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.
--
Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.
Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."
"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.
This guy was impossible, "Ugh."
"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."
"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.
"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.
Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.
"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.
"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.
"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.
"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.
"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Yeah."
The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.
"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.
"What?" Like the mouse?
"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.
Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.
Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.
--
"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.
Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.
Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.
After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.
Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.
Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?
Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.
"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.
"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.
"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.
Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.
Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.
Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.
About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.
"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.
Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.
"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.
Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.
"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.
Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"
"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."
"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."
Ian stayed silent.
"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"
The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.
"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.
This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.
Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"
"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.
"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."
"Oh."
"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."
"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"
Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."
"Yeah, me too."
"So glad you like yourself, champ."
"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.
"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.
They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."
"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.
Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"
"Yeah."
--
Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.
--
"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.
"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"
"From the online list you made me look up!"
"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"
"Whatever. Books or movies?"
"Movies, duh."
"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"
Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"
"Well, no..."
"Well, exactly."
--
"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."
"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."
Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."
"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"
"They're all tough and shit."
"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."
"What's her name?"
"Indy."
"Aw, softy."
"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."
Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."
"Shut up, next question."
--
They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.
They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.
Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.
--
Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.
He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.
Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.
Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.
Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"
"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."
"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"
"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.
"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.
"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.
"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.
Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.
"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."
"I locked myself out."
"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."
Some choice.
Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.
Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.
"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.
Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."
Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."
Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.
"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.
"What?"
"Is that your real name? Mickey?"
Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."
"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."
"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."
"Why's that?"
"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."
"I had that coming, though."
"Maybe so."
"Is that all?"
"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."
"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"
"I'm a raging homo."
Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"
"Can't do enough for my own kid."
Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.
"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."
"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."
"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."
Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."
"Hmm."
"Guess we'll just have to see."
"Guess so."
A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.
"Go to sleep, stupid."
"Goodnight, Mick-halo."
Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.
--
Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.
"How the fuck did you get that?"
"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."
Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.
"Fine, we're leaving in 15."
Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.
--
They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.
Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.
"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.
Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"
Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.
Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.
"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.
"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.
"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"
"Is that me?"
No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."
"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."
Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?
"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.
"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."
Done.
--
The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.
Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.
Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.
--
They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.
Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"
Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.
"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.
"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"
Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."
Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"
"Promise."
--
Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.
Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.
The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."
"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.
Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.
Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.
Soon.
--
After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.
It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.
No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.
Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.
Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.
Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*
Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔
Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for
Ian smiled.
Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇
Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)
Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much
Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.
Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way
Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.
Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head
Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?
Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away
Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?
Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind
--
Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.
--
Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.
It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.
Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.
"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.
Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"
"Oh my God. You're here?"
"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.
"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."
#gw2021#gw2021day3#gallavich week 2021#shameless#gallavich#ian gallagher#mickey milkovich#ian x mickey#my posts#shameless fanfic#shameless fanfiction#gallavich fanfic#gallavich fanfiction
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Ed's Sea Cred (Part 9)
Fear Goes Both Ways
In hindsight, maybe this wasn't the best idea.
Maybe stopping a busy merchant ship on a tight schedule to try and trade an odd and sort of obviously stolen assortment of stolen goods wasn't the best idea.
Maybe stressing how valuable the items were to the clearly tired and worn-down crew wasn't the best idea.
Maybe then saying there was plenty of money aboard to pay for the leather with wasn't the best idea.
Of course, if Stede had known half the opposing crew were either former Navy or dreamt of being in The Navy and settled, he wouldn't have done any of that. He probably also wouldn't have touched one man's leather shirt and praised the 'lived-in quality' of it.
As the first sword positioned itself over his throat, he tried for a smile. "Ah, perhaps we can forget this ever happened? Two ships merely passing in the night, so to say?"
The other man gave a tight smile. "It's midday."
He drew his sword back and swung.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ed didn't want to hide. Of course he fuckin' didn't, what kind of pirate hides during a raid?
But Frenchie had led him and his crew over to the stairs and told them to duck down and watch. "Its just that, you all look like natural-born killers and pirates, and that might give us away a bit," Frenchie had said.
Ed couldn't really argue.
And then he watched Stede completely fuck it all up.
"Avast, ye!" Stede had shouted at the other vessel as they got close. "Might I interest your fine vessel in a bit of trade?"
"They're gonna kill 'im," Izzy muttered from beside Ed. He didn't sound very torn up about the idea.
Ed watched Wee John and Oluwande and Buttons bring over some very valuable, very stolen items, and watched the suspicion light in the merchants' eyes. Stede had shown off the haul with great theatrics and upselling. The merchants had been interested.
But hadn't accepted the trade.
Ed saw the plan forming in their minds before Stede even touched that guy's shirt.
Now he watches a sword arc through the air, feels satisfaction just radiating off of Izzy as Fang gasps and Ivan sucks in a breath-
And a wave rocked the boat and Stede fell to the side. The attacking merchant also tripped, the momentum of his swing dragging him forward.
Right over the edge of the ship and into the water.
"Ah," Stede says, looking down into the waves. The merchant doesn't resurface. "That ahum, wasn't ideal, was it?"
Ed closes his eyes. He can't watch this.
"Now now gents! I'm sure we can work this out without any-"
"We want the fucking loot, pirate."
"Oh, so you'll reconsi-"
"We're taking it from you."
"Well-! Then you're the pirates!"
"Not piracy if it's from a pirate. Not murder if it's to a murderer."
"I-I'm not a murderer." Stede's voice shakes with something other than nerves of lying. Something... deeper.
"Yeah, you're some rich twat who hired a bunch of them. Close enough." There's the sound of a gun being cocked.
"Wait, I think you should think this through fi-!"
BANG!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Stupid fuckin' Stede Bonnet.
"Wait, I think you should think this through fi-!"
Izzy can't wait to see Stede get his brains blown out. Ed's got his eyes closed, and Fang and Ivan almost jump into action before Izzy holds them back. Izzy notices that Stede's own crew aren't making any moves. Hah, less loyal than they pretended, eh? Least there's some sense aboard.
Another wave hits the boat, and the man with the gun falls forward. The gun falls with him of course, and Izzy watches the man's arm hit the deck first, twist up into his chest-
BANG!
The blood flies everywhere, splatters across the deck, across Stede Bonnet's stupid fucking face. His eyes are wide with horror, a tired horror, and Izzy scowls. Fucker gets that lucky, and he's still too fuckin' soft to enjoy it.
"Can we please talk this out?" he asks again in a shaking voice, like a pathetic child whimpering to his bullies.
The merchants are staring in shock at their dead crewmate. And then at Stede in terror.
And then rage.
But what happens next is such a fucking whirlwind that Izzy can't fucking understand it.
Feet get caught on ropes and swords drive into flesh. Guns are cocked and aimed and the shooter ends up with a hole in their throat or their chest. People go over the side of the ship and never bob back up.
Stede's crew kill and maim their fair, and Izzy is actually impressed. The cook does good work with his cleaver and spiked bat, and the navigator chews through a man's throat with some impressive metal fangs. The scribe boy hides, because he's irritatingly alike to his captain, but his fuckin' boyfriend gets a couple kills in.
And Stede fucking Bonnet is in the middle of it all, shouting and ducking and trying to tell everyone to calm down, and every time he does someone goes for a kill, and every time it fucking backfires.
Every.
Fucking.
Time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ed stands in the middle of the blood-soaked deck, looking around with his eyes as wide as they can possibly be.
"When... when you cut loose... you really cut loose," he says slowly.
Stede, as blood-soaked as the wood beneath their feet, swallows. "Thanks."
He doesn't sound thankful.
Ed watches Fang and Izzy help toss some bodies overboard. There's a lot of them. A lot.
"Sorry."
Ed looks at Stede. "For what, man?"
"Your book said I don't get blood on me." Stede looks down at himself.
"Yeah, well... we already figured out it wasn't very accurate, right man? ... On the bright side, this actually turned out to be a pretty good story to tell at a bar. Just gotta embellish it a little."
"This... is a good story? This is why people are afraid."
"Not if you tell it the right way. Someone falling overboard before they stab you is fuckin' funny, man. That's like, a one-in-a-million chance."
"Right. Right, it is. Completely uncommon. Um, I'm actually going to go head down." Stede gives Ed a tight smile. "Have to wash this before the stains set in."
Stede walks away, and Ed watches him go.
He doesn't think he did a very good job of putting a positive spin on this.
But the raid was successful, wasn't it? Even if it was... messy. Ed likes a good messy raid. Leaves the death blows to his crew, but a good maim spree usually ends pretty fuckin' bloody.
So why does he feel so sick over this one?
"Hey, mate." He grabs Black Pete by the arm. "Is this how your raids usually go?"
Pete thinks for a second. "No... usually it happens on the other boat."
#our flag means death#ofmd#blood tw#shooting tw#guns tw#stabbing tw#death tw#stede x ed#edward x stede#stede bonnet#stedeward#stedebeard#ofmd stede#edward teach#blackbonnet#blackbeard#blackbeard x stede#ofmd izzy#ofmd fic#ofmd edward teach#blackstede#gentlebeard#fanfic#my attempts at fanfic
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