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#scho sucks
screennamealreadyused · 7 months ago
I’ve been waiting for class to start since 8:10.
I’m still waiting
10 notes · View notes
squeeto · a month ago
40; Skwistok pls!
(sorry this was so late but have some wholeosme hurt/comfort in return) 💗✨
Skwistok / 40. “Oh god, you’re hurt!”
“Shhh! Shhh! Don’t fucking tell Skwischgaar, he’ll fucking kill me!”
Skwisgaar looks up from his Swedish fashion magazine, raising an eyebrow at the sound of Murderface’s grating voice behind him.
“But Moidaface—“
“No! I’ll take care of it! Juscht—it’sch fine!”
“Owws!” Toki squeaks, and Skwisgaar is standing up from the couch almost instantly, a violent urge to protect practically strangling him at the sound of Toki in any sort of pain. Murderface makes this garbled noise when he sees the blonde, standing in front of Toki and grinning nervously.
“H-Hey buddy! What’sch up?” He tries to ask casually, and Toki merely smiles sheepishly.
Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow, arms crossing, “What ams goings on ovors heres?”
He’s been...a bit overprotective since Toki has come back from captivity, but can one really blame him? He’d went months without seeing the person he loved most in the world, wondering how badly he was being tortured just because none of them tried to stop his friendship with Magnus - and everything he’d imagined only paled in comparison to what actually went down. The four of them all made a pact, in place of their old one - instead of not getting involved in each other’s social lives, now their rule is to keep Toki safe at all costs, and it’s the least they can do.
“Nothing! God, schtop opressching Toki and let him have schome freedom!” Murderface snaps, trying to shove Toki away, and the brunette lets himself be pushed along.
“Stops right deres,” Skwisgaar snaps, and Murderface freezes. “Tells to me what the problem ams, before I get Nathans and—“
“NO! No Nathan!” Murderface hisses, waving his hands violently, because they both know that the frontman is almost as protective of Toki as Skwisgaar is, and he’s much more...forceful about it. “Look, we juscht—we were pallin’ around, and...”
Skwisgaar glares sharply, “Ands?”
“And Toki was being a dick and messching around with my—“
“Toki was messins around with it?!” Toki exclaims, pouting as he looks over at Skwisgaar and then glares threateningly back at their bassist.
Murderface tries slapping a hand over the brunette’s mouth, “No fucking schnitching on me, goddammit—!”
Toki snaps through the openings of Murderface’s fingers, “Moidaface told me to get insides and that it was gonna be real fun and cools!”
Toki points hard at him, “You said it was a machine whats for huggins!”
The two of them start bickering, but the sudden fearful tremor that wracks up Skwisgaar’s spine inspires him to put a stop to it. He steps in between them, blonde hair swinging, and grabs Toki by the shoulders. His voice is calm, but dangerously so, “Did you says you got insides de iron maidens?”
Toki gulps, looking down and away as he nods his head - the same guilty expression he used to pull back when he was a teenager and had been caught doing something sneaky. Murderface quickly butts in once he sees the blind rage on Skwisgaar’s face, “Calm your titsch, I didn’t schut it on him! I juscht wanted to schee if he was dumb enough to go inschide!”
Toki must see Skwisgaar’s about to blow a fuse, because he’s already trying to quell him even though he’s the one who was put into danger again. He tries to say easily, but he kind of cringes as he speaks, letting on that he’s clearly in some type of pain, “It ams okays! It reallies didnst hurts dat bad, I—“
“Whats?” Skwisgaar breathes, panic jolting through his body like lightning, and Toki looks like a nervous kicked puppy as he lifts up his shirt and flashes his side to the blonde.
“Oh gods! You ams horts!” Skwisgaar gasps in horror, feeling very, very sick at the sight revealed to him - Toki’s got a gash right in the exact fucking spot Magnus knifed him, the scar torn like a figurative and literal open wound.
“It ams alreadies numb in dats spot, sos when the spike gots me it reallies didn’t bothers me,” Toki waves a hand as if this is all no big deal, as if it’s not dripping blood down to the top of his pants, and Murderface is nodding right along with him.
“Yeah, he’sch fine! Don’t tell Nathan! He’ll yell at usch! And we—“
“If you don’t gets the fucks out of here, I’s will shoves your bass so fars down your throat that it comes out yous ass,” Skwisgaar says from low in his throat, voice laced with darkness as he takes an aggressive step towards Murderface, who doesn’t hesitate before shoving past the two of them and rushing away.
Skwisgaar’s blue eyes slide down to the wound, and he feels his breathing become uneven as the memory of the funeral whirls at him - of violently searching for Toki once the explosion hit, and finally finding him, but when it was already too late - Magnus with his hair wound tightly around a fist, the other hand brandishing a knife. Skwisgaar had never felt so helpless, so terrified, and the moment between when Magnus held up the knife and when he plunged it into Toki seemed to stretch on for an infinite amount of lifetimes, a moment that Skwisgaar has relived and blamed himself for over and over—
“Heys, I’m sorries,” Toki’s voice is soft, as one of his hands slides up Skwisgaar’s bare arm. “I-I knows I was beins a dumb dildo, I just wasn’t reallies—“
He cuts himself off right as Skwisgaar feels the tears start to roll, and Toki’s hands stutter in shock before instantly cupping his face, pale blue eyes huge. “Skwisgaar....”
“I’s supposed to be keepingk you safe. I fuckings suck at its, apparentlies,” Skwisgaar says bitterly, looking away from the brunette even as Toki moves closer to him, thumbs rubbing against his cheekbones.
“Noes, you does a real good jobs!” Toki argues, trying to direct his face back to look him, but Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m okays, see? You donts gots to cries about—“
“If I would’ve been protectingk you befores, you’d haves nevor been taken from mes,” Skwisgaar snaps tearfully, pushing away from the surprised brunette. “When I lets you into dis band, you became my responsibilities, and it ams my job to makes sure you ams okays. And you never ams, because I fucks it all ups!”
Toki stares at him, voice a little whine as he reaches for him again, “Skwisgaar—“
“I wants to be alones right nows,” he snaps tearfully, getting a glimpse of Toki’s dejected face as he turns and walks away.
“Noes, waits!” Toki pleads, catching him by the wrist, and the blonde whips around to face him. Usually the rhythm guitarist knows better than to stop him when he’s trying to take a minute for himself, because ‘I want to be alone’ is code for ‘I don’t want to throw a tantrum and get into a huge fight.’ But even still, Toki tries again, as he sighs, “I’s real stupids, Skwisgaar.”
The blonde raises an eyebrow in question, “What’s dat got to do with anythingk?”
“I puts myself in these simkuations everies time. Nobodies was able to stops me from hangins out with Magnus, I walks right into the spiky huggins amnst your faults that I keep doesing dumb shits,” Toki says, burying his face against the blonde’s chest, trying to get some sort of reaction.
Skwisgaar just stands there, hands hovering unsurely because he feels like if he touches the brunette he might accidentally launch him into some type of new and exotic danger. Toki’s voice is muffled against his shirt, “The entire reasons I even mades it out of dere, is because of yous.”
Skwisgaar chances a look down at him, tears dripping down his face as he blinks, “Huhs?”
“When I was with Magnus. Knowin I would comes back to you, thinkins about you kissins and huggins me, or even just watchins you play...that ams enough to get me through anythin,” Toki presses their foreheads together, and Skwisgaar sniffles weakly as he finally settles his arms around the brunette.
“But Toki,” Skwisgaar says hoarsely. “I amnst—“
“You takes me in off the street, Skwisgaar. You gives me a home and a family, you loves me... you don’t see that you always savins Toki?” The rhythm guitarist cups his face lovingly, pressing a delicate kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Now I ams gonna be savins you, from youself. Gets you out of your blonde dildo head.”
“What does you mpphh-“ Skwisgaar doesn’t really get a chance to finish the question, because Toki tilts his head and kisses him deeply, hands sliding from the sides of his face and into his hair. The Swede is still too jarred to do anything but just kind of stand there, but his brunette is dead-set on melting him.
He’s coaxed back onto the couch, Toki straddling him, one strong hand pushing against his chest and keeping him down as the other strokes circles on his cheekbone. His lips are so...soft, and his body is so solid, and when he nibbles on Skwisgaar’s bottom lip and pushes their hips together, he can’t help but groan in approval.
“I’ll tries better to be smarters, if you tries to stop blamins youself,” Toki whispers against the shell of his ear, his mustache tickling the side of Skwisgaar’s face. The Swede lets out a breath, nodding in confirmation, and Toki kisses his cheek tenderly.
“I can’t promskise I’s will stops feelingk guilties. But I will tries,” Skwisgaar whispers, blue eyes soft as Toki tucks his hair behind his ears on either side.
“My dad hurts mes. Magnus hurts mes. But none of dat will evers be yous fault,” Toki murmurs against his lips, shivering as Skwisgaar’s long fingers trace the scars on his back. “Yous the first person who ever shows me love, and heals it all ups.”
“I do loves you,” Skwisgaar murmurs, punctuating this with a kiss and an affectionate “dildo.”
“I loves you too,” Toki whispers, and the two of them fall back into making out on the couch.
“Alright, Schwischgaar, I’m willing to bribe you scho long as you don’t tell Nathan I got Toki hurt. How doesch my collection of—OH GOD! On the COUCH? We watch TV there!!” Murderface screams when he comes back twenty minutes later, hands slapped over his eyes to try and block out the image of the guitarists in the throes of passion.
“Now we evens,” Skwisgaar shrugs at him, then turns his attention back to the brunette in his arms.
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atmilliways · 3 months ago
16 Murderface & Pickles; 19 Nathan & Toki! 🖤
I’ll probably write the Nathan and Toki one too, eventually, but for now here is some Pickleface for the prompt “defending each other.” This is set during Goingdownklok and, uh, probably the porniest thing I have ever written. 
Trans Pickles, Murderface’s internalized body issues, first time blow job, Pina Colada flavored lube because Pickles was drunk when he ordered it and thought he was asking Alexa for more drinks. 
If anyone can think of other tags that should be on this, or if it should be marked Explicit rather than just Mature, please let me know. I’ll reblog with the Ao3 link in a sec. 
This Might Just Stick
It had been hours. Maybe everybody had forgotten by now. . . . No, no one was going to forget that he’d tried to tackle and hump Toki in front of everybody. 
But he was getting hungry. . . . But what if he ran into any of his bandmates?
Murderface lurked in his quarters until the necessity of avoiding starvation drove him out and skulking towards the mess hall. By the time he arrived and saw from the hatch that someone was already in there, the lure of dinner was stronger than his shame. Maybe Pickles wouldn’t notice him. 
“Hey,” Pickles mumbled in greeting almost immediately. The drummer was presiding over a large plate piled high with iced cinnamon buns, glumly holding a half eaten one in his hand. 
“Uh . . . hey,” Murderface replied. Maybe if he kept walking the conversation would end there.
“I got shot down by Abigail,” Pickles continued, sounding positively morose. 
Murderface slowed, curious in spite of himself. He glanced towards the counter where a hooded servant waited to take his order, but hesitated. This was his chance to let the whole embarrassing incident start getting glossed over until no one ever brought it up again or even remembered it had ever happened. “. . . Schoundsch rough, pal.”
“I mean, I got all dressed up an’ everything, and nothin’.” With a sigh, Pickles took a bite of his cinnamon bun. He continued while chewing, “I figured she must be at least as hard up as the rest of us, y’know? Nope! Turns out, she thought to bring a vibrator!”
A vibrator. Huh. Now there was a thought. Murderface automatically pictured a naked female form, legs spread wantonly, a buzzing wand sinking into—
Well, this had been a mistake. He should’ve just kept walking and taken his food back to his room. Instead, before the sudden tent in his shorts had a chance to become too obvious, Murderface drifted casually over to Pickles’ table. It was one of those picnic style set-ups, except the benches weren’t bolted down, so there was a screech as he pulled it out to sit across from him. 
“Schuper rough! Schorry to hear that, pal. Hey, uh, mind if I eat one of thesche cshinnamon rollsch?” He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing one and shoving half of it in his mouth. Maybe sugar and something to chew on would provide enough distraction to will his libido back to manageable levels. 
“Go ahead.” Pickles gave a deep sigh. “I thought I’d feel better if I had some rock n’ roll cinnamon buns, but I guess I’m not drunk enough for that yet.”
“Schorry man,” Murderface said again. “I don’t know why Nathan wasch scho bitchy about you going for her, it’sch not like we all wouldn’t hit that if we could.” He gulped down the second half of his cinnamon bun and reached for another. 
“I know, right?!” Pickles said, nodding. “And hey, for what it’s worth, I get why you went after Toki, too. I mean, your approach did lack some zazz, but I’m pretty sure we were all thinkin’ the same thing.”
They’d all taken part in mocking him after the incident, Pickles included, but Murderface still appreciated the small token of solidarity. His fingers already had a coating of sticky white icing on them which he was trying not to notice; the sight sent reflexive twinges of pain running up from his jerking-off wrist. But the mechanical motion of chewing and the fact that he was a born stress-eater just like his grandma made the texture of the bun richer, the nuance of spices more compelling, the fresh-out-of-the-oven warmth more soothing . . . so there was that. And anyway, he’d come here in the first place because he was hungry. 
“I can’t believe I didn’t think of bringin’ something,” Pickles continued, drifting back to his original train of thought. “I mean, I have tons of shit at home! But did I bring any of it? No, ‘cause Charles didn’t tell us about the no ladies thing until we’d already got here. I kinda want to break into her room and just use it, who fuckin’ cares if she catches me. Maybe she’ll see something she likes!”
“You could do that,” Murderface managed to say with his mouth full. God, he was lucky that Pickles was dressed in his usual black shirt and loose jeans, nothing tight or revealing like Toki, because all this talk about vibrators was really getting him going. Just the idea of turning the toy on and moving it teasingly against a stiff dick (he didn’t know what Pickles’ looked like so naturally he pictured his own)—
He stifled a whimper with yet another cinnamon roll. The pile on the plate was shrinking at an alarming rate. 
“Hey.” Pickles looked at him with wide eyes, a strange glint in them. “You could come with me. Come on, dood, let’s do it. Let’s break into her room!”
“I. . . . I don’t know, Picklesch. . . .”
“No, in case she doesn’t catch me! We can both—there’s ways we can both use it at the same time, no waitin’!”
Heat rising to his face, Murderface shook his head and reached for the cup on the table to wash the latest mouthful of sticky, sugary bun down. He grabbed it and gulped from it—ah yes, straight vodka. The Pickles special. “I’m, uh, not going to do that with you, Picklesch.”
“Why naht?” Pickles all but whined. “Come on, we’re all in the same boat here. Literally. What’s Toki got that I ain’t got?”
Murderface’s first instinct, which he insta-repressed, was to say An ass. But on further reflection, that wasn’t exactly true, was it? While Toki’s toned rear end looked great in those shrunken pink shorts, Pickles had slightly more of a bubble butt, better for grabbing a handful and really, unf—
And now he was thinking about Pickles’ ass. Great. Super. That was totally helping with the boner that wouldn’t quit. Murderface wanted to bury his head in his hands, but they were too sticky for that so he crammed another half a cinnamon bun in his mouth instead. He was, distantly, starting to feel rather full. 
“Look, I’m juscht not doing it!” he burst out, bringing one fist down on the table so hard it rattled the now empty cup and nearly empty plate. “Chrischt, you guysch were ragging on me earlier for the whole Toki thing, and now you’re, what? Trying to jump on my dick?! Uh-uh, I don’t think scho!”
Pickles put both of his hands up. “Dood, calm down! Flag on the play, okie? I’m naht trying anything!” He paused, then grinned sheepishly. “Alright, I am. But look, I’m askin’ first, so . . . there’s that. And hey, no strings attached, I promise. It’s just, you got rejected, and, and I got rejected. . . . I jest think we can help each other out, y’know? It doesn’t have to be that big a deal.”
Murderface narrowed his eyes. “It’sch a very big deal, Picklesch.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Pickles replied, leaning forward conspiratorially and dropping into a throaty whisper. “Dood, we could do it right here, nobody’d know. We’ve got this place to ourselves, all we gotta do is have the Klokateers shut things down for a while so we don’t get interrupted. And I could get you off first—fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about going down on somebody ever since Abigail told me how she keeps from going crazy down here! Please?” Under the table, a sneakered foot bumped and rubbed suggestively up Murderface’s shin, making him shiver. “I’ll treat ya real nice.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a chick,” Murderface grumbled. 
“‘Kay.” Pickles smirked. “I’ll suck you off and make you come so hard you’ll be cross-eyed into next week.”
Biting his lip to stifle a groan, Murderface considered. 
. . . He picked up the last cinnamon bun and crammed it into his mouth, still considering. 
There were two options here. Option one: he could say fuck you, yell at the hood at the counter to send food to his quarters, and storm out with an angry boner to go hump his bedframe or some pillows or something until his meal arrived. His stomach was pretty full (he shifted slightly on the bench and let out a soft, cinnamon-scented burp in between chewing) but he knew how his body reacted to stress and depression, and knew he could eat again in maybe an hour. He’d need at least the next pants size up by the time they got back to the surface. Story of his fucking life. 
Or, option two: take Pickles’ offer. It wasn’t like it was any less gay for Pickles to offer than it was for him to accept, so they were both implicated here. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he’d already passed desperate a few stops back. 
“Scho, it’sch come to thisch.” Murderface swallowed the last of his mouthful and sighed. He looked at the empty plate instead of his bandmate, because the longer he entertained the idea of actually doing this the more confining his shorts felt. “If you make fun of me for thisch I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Right back at ya, dood. So . . . is theat a yes?” 
“. . . . Yesch,” he whispered, and—he couldn’t help it—palmed himself through his shorts despite his sticky hand and the twinge of pain from his still-tender wrist. 
As soon as he said the word, Pickles leapt up, knocking his bench over with a clatter, and spun to yell towards the mess kitchen: “Hey, guys! Take a break for like, an hour or something! Lock it up and get outta here!!”
“Yes sire,” someone called back, and the confirmation was quickly echoed by the clangs and bangs of cookware being put in order for the coming downtime. 
An hour, Murderface thought, twitching in stunned anticipation. He fingered the button on his shorts but didn’t unbutton it until the shutter over the counter window had been pulled down and one of the hoods ran to close the mess hall hatch for them from the outside—their servants were nothing if not efficient. 
He could’ve done without his full stomach forcing the zipper all the way down as soon as he unbuttoned, but hey, pobody’s nerfect. Now that he was committed to doing this he was practically vibrating to get started, spreading his legs as wide as he could. 
“Scho, uh. . . . How are we doing thisch? Should I turn around or schomething?”
“No, stay right there.” Pickles grabbed at a random dreadlock and used it to tie the rest back.Then he winked and ducked under the table. 
“Oh fuck,” Murderface whispered, and leaned back to get a partial view of Pickles kneeling in front of him. 
With a mischievous grin, the drummer slipped his fingers up the legs of Murderface’s shorts, teasing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. “It’s sexier if you don’t look, dood.”
“Right, okay. Schure.” He sat forward again hastily and his lip as he felt Pickles’ hands move to his stomach, palms warm through his t-shirt and against the sliver of exposed skin peeking out at the bottom, and then—
“Ow,” Pickles muttered. 
Murderface looked down, hoping against hope that he hadn’t somehow fucked this up already. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my wrists, dood. I can’t . . . ugh.”
“Can’t what?” Murderface pressed. He felt bitter disappointment already welling up like bile in the back of his throat, and honestly if Pickles ditched him at this point he probably would throw up out of pure disgust and disappointment with himself for fucking up such a wonderful opportunity by being so utterly repugnant. 
Pickles groaned. “Fuck. Look, there’s no good way to say this, but you gotta hold yer stomach up outta the way. My wrists won’t bend that way right now and it’s kinda . . . blockin’ stuff.”
Murderface felt his face heat up to approximately one hundred degrees, but when he didn’t immediately reply Pickles gripped at his thighs and whined impatiently. With that encouragement, he slid his hands under his belly and hefted it up. At another wordless whine, he stood slightly so Pickles could tug them down to his ankles and plopped his bare ass back down on the warm metal bench. 
“Thanks for freeballing, dood,” Pickles commented, and Murderface felt delicious chills from the drummer’s breath ghosting over his eager cock. “Saves valuable seconds in a sex emergency.”
He couldn’t see through the table, but Pickles sounded downright hungry for it. Just imagining the guy staring intently at him under there, maybe licking his lips, maybe already touching himself through his jeans in anticipation—
Then Pickles shocked him by enveloping him all at once, tongue sliding down the underside of his cock and lips closing possessively around the base as the head hit the back of Pickles’ throat and holy fucking shit. Murderface moaned so loud that he was worried the entire submarine could hear, but it wasn’t like his hands were free to stifle himself. He’d hold his fat belly out of the way for a million years without complaint if it meant being enveloped like this. Hands grabbed at his ass and tried to drag him forward greedily as Pickles began to bob expertly up and down his length with the perfect amount of suction, going from nose-buried-in-pubes to kissing-the-already-leaking-tip and back again, repeat and repeat and repeat, with an eagerness that Murderface had never once experienced before and zero hint of gag reflex. It was all Murderface could do to sit still and keep holding himself, biting his lip for dear life to keep his ragged breathing from turning into the breathy moans of the thoroughly fucked. 
Goddamn, this was going to ruin him for groupie blowjobs, wasn’t it? Fucking Pickles and his oral fixation, and his warm, wet, tight, talented mouth. 
It had been way, way too long, and Murderface was so hard up that he came embarrassingly quickly. He didn’t even have time to give a warning, but Pickles seemed to know. One hand stopped fondling his ass long enough to fondle his balls instead, massaging encouragingly as they tightened and tightened and—
Murderface couldn’t contain the wordless gush of sound that accompanied his orgasm, milked out of him without complaint as he bent over the table. 
His face was all but touching the empty, sticky plate before him when he finally managed to open his eyes again. “Fuck,” he breathed shakily. “Pickles. . . . That wasch. . . . Fuck, I don’t think I can schtand.”
“Push the bench back, then,” Pickles said urgently. Whatever he was doing down there, Murderface could hear shuffling and felt bare skin bumping against his hairy legs.”Cahm ahn, dood!”
It made him grin lazily to realize that Pickles’ accent must get stronger when he was horny, just like it did when he was super pissed or super wasted. He obliged, scooting the bench with a brief screech of metal scraping metal, and Pickles popped out from under the table like Jack out of his box. Murderface was half expecting him to sit on the table edge in front of him so he could return the favor, but instead the smaller man settled in his naked lap. 
Apparently Pickles had been shedding layers under the table, because he was equally naked from the waist down and grinding eagerly, wetly against the bassist’s middle, pushing his vest further open and his t-shirt further up. He grabbed Murderface by the hair and rammed their mouths together, eagerly licking his way in, the taste of spend on his tongue mingling quickly with the sweetness of cinnamon bun icing still on Murderface’s. 
There was something very unexpected about this that Murderface was too dazed and into it to quite pinpoint, but holy shit what Pickles was doing felt amazing. Like, fucking against his stomach? Which was kind of weird, but the force and desperation of it was blowing him away. 
Pickles whined in his mouth as though all this wasn’t enough, as though he wanted, needed more. His legs wrapped around Murderface and crossed at the ankles for leverage to grind even harder. Automatically, Murderface reached to support him—one hand splayed against the freckled back and another on his ass, where the muscles were already trembling with effort and eagerness for the building climax. 
And he was so wet. Had the guy come once already just from sucking him off? Murderface felt briefly lightheaded at the thought. Felt his spent cock twitch too, for all that he was still recovering from the number Pickles had done on him already.
Really . . . really wet. Not exactly leaking-dick wet. Not that Murderface had a lot of experience identifying that sort of thing rubbing on him, but still. 
. . . Huh. 
Pickles was still kissing and clutching at him, and Murderface was drowning in this unprecedented desire for this stupid body he’d always kind of hated. But Pickles didn’t seem to mind, did he? Really made it feel like he wouldn't have offered this to just anyone. 
A moment later Pickles shuddered, going rigid and squeezing him tight before relaxing completely, Murderface’s arms around him the only thing keeping him from falling back against the mess hall table. 
“Woo-oo,” Pickles mumbled, eyes unfocused and heavy-lidded. He patted the arm supporting his back. “That was fucking great, man. Ten outta ten, would ride again.” His tongue peeked out and wetted his kiss-redden lips. “Was it good for you?”
“Huh?” Murderface blinked, shook himself a little. He’d been staring intently at the tip of Pickles’ tongue. “Yeah! Yeah, that wasch. . . . I, we could do that again schometime. If you want.”
Pickles patted his arm again, eyes drifting shut. “Mmm, yeah, that album ain’t getting finished any time soon. . . .”
“Uh, Picklesch? Can I ashk you a perschional queschtion?”
“Heh, you just came down my throat, dood, Pretty sure personal questions are fair game.”
Murderface glanced uncertainly down between them, but with their lower halves still pressed together all he could really see was a bright red trail of hair leading downward and his own belly button. “Is there a. . . . Do you have. . . . Are you okay down there?”
Pickles laughed. “I’m more’n fine, dood, I’m great.” Then he cracked an eye open to study the other man’s face, one double-pierced eyebrow slowly rising. “What?” He followed where Murderface’s eyes were aimed. “. . . Don’t tell me ya never fucked a trans dood before.”
“I’ve never fucked any dudesch before,” Murderface retorted defensively. “And schince when are you transch?!”
“Dood, everybody knows. I thought you knew!” 
“Well I didn’t! No one tellsch me anything,” he whined, and in the strange clarity of his relaxed, post-orgasm state was entirely aware that the not being told part bothered him more than the trans part. Not that he knew much about what being trans meant, but . . . probably better to google it later than ask while they were still sitting junk to junk. He reached down to self-consciously tug his t-shirt down and felt wetness on his fingertips. After a moment’s hesitation, he brought his hand up to his nose and sniffed. “. . . Why doesch thisch schmell like pina colada?”
“It’s lube,” Pickles said with a chuckle. “I always keep it—” he absently patted at his own ass, then snorted “—in my pants, under the table. Back pocket. I don’t gaht a lahtta ‘natural lubrication’ so, y’know. Always be prepared or whatever. . . . I dunno, I was never a boy scout.” Stretching, he sat up and leaned in, resting his arms languidly over Murderface’s shoulders. Noses about an inch apart, he stared probingly into his eyes. “You weirded out?”
“Uh . . . no, I guescch not,” Murderface mumbled, going cross-eyed trying to return the stare. 
He felt . . . okay, actually. Wasn’t having sex with a bandmate supposed to feel like a mistake? Wasn’t he supposed to be having some sort of crisis right now? Because he’d definitely just had sex with a guy—he’d known Pickles for years, he was definitely a dude, trying think of him as anything else just didn’t compute. 
Pickles darted forward and gave him a wet snack on the nose, then pulled back with a pleased smirk. “Cool. ‘Cause we’ve got about, uh. . . .” He looked for a clock, finding one once he’d twisted almost all the way around—which just made Murderface think, Bendy, and then his brain fizzled a little at the possibilities. “About forty-five minutes left before anyone comes back. Whaddaya say we get some drinks and fuck some more? I’ve got a couple months of fantasies I still wanna try out.”
“Fa, fantasies?” Murderface stammered as the drummer slid off his lap (oh sweet friction) and bounded over to the counter to rustle up some bottles. His eyes were glued to that pale, freckled ass. “About me?”
“Yeah,” Pickles called. Regrettably, he and his ass had ducked out of sight for a moment. “I mean, fer pretty much everyone down here who has a face, to be honest.”
Oh, Murderface thought with a sigh.
“But hey!” Grinning, Pickles popped back into sight with a fifth of Irish whiskey held triumphantly in each upstretched hand. “Ta be honest, I’m glad this happened with you, dood. The ones with you in ‘em were my favorites.”
Murderface brightened immediately. “Really?” It almost didn’t even matter if that was true, he just appreciated Pickles going out of his way to say it. “Like  . . . like what?”
“Well, what we just did, fer one.” 
This had all happened because of curiosity (and a background level of horniness that defied physics and shit); Murderface saw now reason to change things up now. He asked, even as he drank in the sight of Pickles sauntering back towards him half naked, whatever secrets were hidden between his legs obscured by a thick forest of bright red pubes, “What elsche?” The words came out sounding breathless, and his cock was already stiffening again. 
After all, he’d come here in the first place because he was hungry. 
Smirking, Pickles came back around, moved the empty cinnamon bun plate down the table, and hopped up to take its place, legs spread. He handed Murderface one of the whiskey bottles, cracked open his own, and in between drinking and wantonly touching himself started listing every last, filthy little detail of things they could do to each other. 
It was going to be a very good rest of the hour. 
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dumbbitchenergy17 · 4 months ago
New Life Pt. 2
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You lived any normal life get up, go to school, head back home, and repeat. It was until your school had an interesting meeting with the one and only Tony Stark. Will meeting him be the best moment of your life or worst
Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader, future-Peter Parker x Reader
Words: 2688
“You got that equation down well not even college students solve it. So you got a name kid.” He smiled holding a hand out.
“Y/n. Y/n Y/L/N.” You shook his hand with a small smile. Tony freezes for a second looking you up and down studying you making you slightly nervous.
“Nice to meet you but this might be weird but I just might be your dad.”
You laughed and not a chuckle a full-blown laugh leaning against your knees trying to catch your breath.
“Oh god. That’s good.” You stand straight wiping the tears looking at Tony still staring with no smile on his face. You look at Ned and Peter and they both have their jaws dropped
“Oh shit you’re serious.” You said. Tony nods shoving his hands in his pockets. 
“Yeah this is really weird, soo I’m just gonna go.” You point behind you and being to walk backwards.
“Wait,” Tony grabs your arm making you look back at him
“Look Mr. Stark this is just some huge coincidence and I would know if my dad the Tony Stark.” You try to ease the blow. Right before Tony try to respond
“Y/n!” Harry calls out making you look back to see him and Principal Mortia, “Your principal called really on your first day of scho-” Harry beginning to reprimand you when he sees who is still holding onto your arm he freezes and looks at Tony then back at you.
“Harry?” Tony askes in recognition.
“Mr. Mortia I’m sorry but Y/n will not be attending Midtown anymore,” Harry says and everyone freezes and your heart drops.
“What!” You, Peter, and Tony yell at the same time.
“Sir please think about this. Y/n is a bright student with a gifted mind and will excel greatly here..” Your principal tries to change his mind.
“Harry what are you doing.” You try to get him to realize what he is doing.
“Y/n we’re leaving.” Harry comes over and grabs your arm and begins to drag you out.
“Harry just stop.” You push away from him, “I like this school. I feel normal here and not the freak that knows too much.”
“We are not discussing this not let’s go.” Harry ended the conversation.
“She got a bright mind think this through, Harry.” Tony tried putting his opinion 
“Stay out of this Stark.” He hissed back going back to grab your arm but you pulled back.
“Do you too know each other?” You asked looking at Tony and Harry.
“He was best friends with my ex-wife,” Tony said you look between him and Harry. You knew that Harry was best friends with your mom before she left.
“I think we should take this somewhere private.” Principal Mortia tried ushering the group to somewhere more private as a crowd was forming.
“What was her name.” You said over everyone arguing with each other. Tony look at Harry then looked at you
“Y/M/N.” He said making you suck in a breathe tears building up.
“Kid come on let’s go talk about this somewhere else.” Harry tried to guide you out of the crowded hallway.
“Did you know.” You deadpanned still looking at your shoes.
“Kid you know that I would-” He tried to defend himself.
“Don’t fucking lie to me. Did. You. Know.” You hissed out looking at him Harry looked down ashamed 
“Yes.” You let out a laugh at how he felt guilty.
“How could you.” You whimpered a tear slipping down your face and you turned to look at Tony who looked equally upset.
“And you. How could you not try to look.” You shook your head wiping your face 
“Y/n let’s just-” Harry tried to talk
“Just! Don’t” You lifted your arms up trying to put distance from them “just don’t” You grab your bag and rush through the crowd until you hit the door that leads to outside.
“Y/N!” they yell after you. The cold air hits your face causing pins and needles to appear as you make your way further away from the school towards the subway. 
“Y/N Stop!” You turn and see both Tony and Harry standing there Peter and Ned behind them. You weave through the bystanders as you hear footsteps after you. As you enter the subway you make your way to the turnstile and try to get your metro card to work but won’t pick up the scan 
“Y/n..” You hear your voice
“Come on. Come on. Come on.” You catch the attention of an elderly lady
“Here dear those things always are trouble-some.” She swipes her card and it lights up green.
“Thank you so much, ma’am.” You rush through the turnstile and rush down the stairs to the platform not even caring where the subway takes you. You just needed space from all this. You see a subway at the end of the platform boarding right as you hear your name beginning called.
“Y/n. Come on stop.” Harry yells. You run as fast as you can to get to the subway right as you are about to board an arm grabs you and rips you away from the doors, people still entering and exiting.
“Y/n, Don’t do this let’s talk.” Tony tries to reason with you.
“Talk, You had 16 years for you to talk, so just stay away from me.” You pulled your arm away from him watching his face fall. You enter the subway and the doors close right as Harry catches up and you both stare at each other as it moves and you are gone. You walk over to an empty seat, you lean your head back trying to keep your tears at bay.
You couldn’t remember where this subway was leading you to, but after almost an hour it stopped and most people got off. Walking out of the station and ended up on the street you looked at your phone and saw you were in Lenox Hill which was pretty far from home. You felt your phone buzz and saw multiple text messages and missed calls some from Harry and some from Peter.
9 missed calls from Harry Murphy
3 missed calls from Peter Parker
‘I’m sorry Y/n I should have told you please come home so we can talk.’ -Harry 
‘Please come home I don’t know where you are’ -Harry 
‘Please be safe wherever you are’ -Harry
The messages were all the same and you read one from Peter
‘Hey Y/n I know this might be so crazy and everything but please be safe, you’ve been gone for a while and know I’m here for you’ -Peter
You shoved your phone in your pocket and began wandering around the city just going where your feet took you. Before you even realized you had ended up in Midtown Manhattan the defining feature was Stark tower maybe 5 blocks away from where you are. You sigh going to turn away and just head home when thoughts about why you never met Tony or what really happened.
“Damnit just turn around and go home you’re only causing more pain for yourself.” You mumbled trying to force yourself to go home and forget it all ever happened. But you somehow ended up right in the lobby of the Tower workers and people made their way around the room with purpose, while you just look like a lost kid.
“You go up and ask if anything you get kicked out and look like a fool.” You hyped yourself up, you took a deep breath, stood up straight, and walk to the front desk where a woman sat typing away at her computer. When you go closer she looked up and gave you a smile
“Hi, do you have an appointment today.” She asked pulling up a calendar. You shook your head and immediately got nervous and ran a hand through your hair. 
“Um...No, but I need to talk to Mr. Stark.” You said trying to seem as sure of yourself.
“I’m sorry but if you don’t have an appointment you can’t go.” She gave you a pity smile You nodded and began walking away before you turned back
“Can I give you a message.” You asked and she nodded. “Um tell him I’m sorry and I want to know more about my family.” The woman nodded typing it into her computer
“Thank you.” You gave her a smile and fixed your bag and made your way towards the door, right before you got outside.
You heard rustling “Miss! Excuse me!” you turned around to see the woman from the desk rush over to you. “I don’t know how but Mr. Stark would like to see you.” She said leading you towards the elevators. You nod as she presses one of the buttons and the doors begin to close when a hand pops in and they open again and it’s Steve Rogers.
“You’re Captain America.” You said in awe looking at the Avengers standing right next to you.
“Yeah, but Steve is fine, uh what floor.” He pointed to the array of buttons you pointed back towards the lobby
“I think the lady already pressed it.” Steve nodded
“Friday, to the common rooms.” He asked,
“Right away Captain Rogers.” A voice called out making you jump and Steve cracked out a smile.
“So what brings you to the tower.” He asked leaning against the wall watching the lights flash as you hit a floor.
“Um.. I have a meeting-thing with Mr. Stark.” You said running your hand through your hair nervous about what to disclose or not.
“You one of the Tony new prodigy kids he claims.” He jokes but you freeze at the thought of him having other ‘kids’ even though he did have one.
“Um not exactly.” You wrung your hands together feeling your hands get clammy. 
Before Steve could respond the doors open up and you see most of the Avengers just sit around. Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes were playing some kind of game, while Natasha Romanoff sat next to Clint Barton who was drinking something while having a conversation, and Wanda Maximoff sat on the floor talking to Vision. But they all froze when they saw you standing there with Steve. 
“Hey Cap, who’s the kid.” Sam called out causing more eyes to move to you and you could feel your hands shake nervous to be under the gaze of many heroes. “She here to see Tony.” He responded making Natasha chuckle “Another kid for him to claim.” Your breath hitched hearing that same word ‘kid’ were you his kid or just some random stranger who is just in the wrong situation. Before anyone else could talk Tony walked in and both of you stared at each other.
“Hi.” Tony breathes out scanning over you trying to take as much detail in as possible.
“Are you my dad?” You asked causing someone to choke on their drink
“I’m sorry I must be deafer than I thought. Did she said, dad?” Clint said making Natasha smack him in the arm.
“Well- I... I mean the logistics of it being.” Tony stuttered waving his hands but you cut him off
“Just a yes or no. Are you my father?” You stated your voice shaking trying to keep the tears at bay
“Yes, I think, god I hope.” Tony breathed out trying to smile. You nodded walking up to him and he opened his arms expecting a hug but a loud smack made everyone’s jaw drop. You slapped his square in the face so hard that even your hand hurt.
“Sixteen years,” You said as he pressed his hand against his cheek not even looking you in the eyes. “You had sixteen years to contact or I don’t know at least try to look.” You hissed clenching your fist up trying to get it to stop shaking. “Did you even try were you relieved that I was gone.” You cried
“Of course not..” Tony tried to console you
“Then why didn’t you try..” You whimpered a tear slipping down his face a hand touched your shoulder making you jump and you saw it was Steve.
“I think we all need a minute to just calm down and then we can sit and talk ok…” You and Tony both nodded. “Natasha can you stay with-” Steve started and was cut off
“I got it, Steve.“ Natasha stood up and wrapped an arm around you and began to lead you out and Wanda got up and followed you two and the rest of the men stated in the common room. You ended up in the kitchen and you sat at the island with Wanda next to you, while Natasha went to grab you water. “Here..” She stretched not knowing your name
“Y/n.” You thanked her grabbing the glass and taking a sip.
“So this must be a lot right now so just take your time.” Wanda rubbed her hand up and down your back calming you as you drank most of the water. You placed the glass onto the island and rubbed your eyes ridding the tears from your face. 
“I never knew my dad that well just vague memories. All my life I thought there had to be some reason he wasn’t here, but there he was a fucking train ride from me.” You sniffled. Natasha nodded and Wanda grabbed your hand giving it a squeeze.
“Tony must have had a reason for this.” Wanda tried to console you
“Miss Romanoff, Captain Rogers would like you and your company to come to the common lounge.” Friday’s voice rang out
“Thanks Friday.” Natasha responded as she stood up, “You ready kid.” You nodded grabbing your bag and you three made your way back to the common room. When you got here most of the avengers had left giving you privacy, sitting on one of the couches was James Rhodes and Tony, with Steve standing in the middle.
“Can you stay.” You looked at Natasha when you felt her pull away. She nodded and Wanda gave you a brief hug before leaving you too to sit on the other couch.
“Uh, Bruce is gonna come and take some of your DNA for a parental test.” Steve explained and you nodded feeling eyes on you. Tony just stared at you his eyes red hair all messed up probably from running his hands through it a lot. Dr. Banner walked in with a kit and a computer as well.
“Hi, Y/n I just need to swab you.” He gave you a smile and you nodded letting him swab you and then he went over to Tony and swabbed him as well. “This should take about five to ten minutes.” Bruce walked over to one of the tables and started plugging stuff into the computer. You all just sat there in silence neither you nor Tony was looking at each other making things more awkward before Steve cut the tension by talking
“So Y/n where do you live?” Steve tried to start small talk
“Queens.” You mumbled and he nodded knowing he wasn’t making the situation any less awkward.
“You must be really smart to go to Midtown.” Steve added making you look up and then at Tony. He probably talked about you while you were in the kitchen 
“Not anymore.” You remember you don’t go there any more thanks to Harry. Before anyone could talk Bruce walked back
“Uh the result is in.” he said making both you and Tony look at each other. “Friday.” Bruce called out to.
“The results from a Miss Y/n show a 49.3 percent relation to Mr. Stark and a 50.7 percent relation to Mrs. Y/l/n.” You could feel eyes on you as you stared at your hands.
“Wha-What happened to my mom.” You asked trying to focus your breathing looking up at Tony as looked back at you. Tony looked back down
“I-I don’t know.”
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squeeto · 4 months ago
Lost Time - Chapter 8
Chapter summary: at the gala, Skwisgaar is roped into a date night with Toki, who’s starting to fall apart. meanwhile, Nathan realizes something about Pickles.
The gala hasn't even started yet, and Skwisgaar already feels like he's not going to make it through the day.
“I’m sorry, Skwisgaar. It's really not that big of a deal,” Charles says from where he sits behind his desk, several calls on hold as one hand scribbles something down and the other is tying his own bowtie. Skwisgaar tugs at the collar of his shirt nervously, his expensive shoes practicaly burning holes in the floors of Charles’ office as he paces back and forth.
“I ams Skwisgaar Skwigelf. I does NOT get stoods up,” Skwisgaar hisses, slamming a hand on Charles’ desk. “It was your jobs to find mes a date - that’s i didnst even wants! - for this stupid dildos gala!”
“Skwisgaar. She didn’t stand you up. Your date quite literally exploded when a flock of eagles got stuck in her jet engine on the way over,” Charles raises an eyebrow. “I told them to fly her in the Dethkopter with everyone else’s dates. Apparently that got lost in translation.”
“Everybodies else’s dates ams alrights, excepts for mines?!” Skwisgaar exclaims, face red. “Could you imagines me, showings up to this withouts ams dates, when Moiderface has one? What ams I supposeds to dos, thirds wheels with fuckingks Toki?”
“Toki doesn’t have a date, actually,” Charles doesn’t look up at Skwisgaar, and he misses the way the blonde’s eyes flash. Skwisgaar raises an eyebrow, “Whys nots?”
“I figured for the sake of his health, he’d be better off on his own,” Charles says, glancing up at Skwisgaar knowingly. “I’ve actually arranged for the two of you to spend the evening together. You are both dateless, and I’d figure increased comradery is an added bonus. And I—....why are you looking at me like that?”
Skwisgaar could just feel how red his face was. The two of them still hadn’t talked since the acid episode, and now he would have to put his self-restraint issues to the test over a fancy romantic evening. Would this be like It's been a long time since he’s been on one of those with Toki, and the idea fills him with a weirdly nervous anxiety. Skwisgaar quickly tries to recover as he crosses his arms, tilting his chin up, “Oh greats, insteads of arrivings with a beautiful womans, I have to pals around with Toki the whole night. What ams that even means, you arrangeds its?”
“I seated you next to each other at dinner. Usually I try and spread out the band members to try and avoid any unnecessary group antics. Like Pickles stated a while back, maybe it would be good for you to keep an eye on him.”
“Tchhh,” Skwisgaar crosses his arms as he looks away from Charles, stress and exhaustion rolling in his gut. He used to mean more to Toki than the role of his fucking babysitter. During the acid episode, Skwisgaar had been asked what he was to Toki. He kept thinking about a way to answer that question, but he found he really didn't know anymore. Logically, he knows it’s not Toki’s fault that his guitar playing invoked a memory of Magnus. But it just hurts so fucking much. Is that how Toki saw his playing? The equivalent to months of torture? Was it a reflection on—
“There’s also, ah. Well. I suppose you might not be interested in any more surprises, so I’ll let you in on something,” Charles says a bit apprehensively, and Skwisgaar’s eyes narrow. This manager does this to them, sometimes - he’ll hide a detail that he knows the band won’t like, until it’s the last possible second and there’s no getting out of it. “I managed to get you guys out of having to play the gala tonight, as Toki's still clearly not in any shape to perform. But in exchange, you boys are expected to participate in the ceremonial, ah, Dethwaltz. That’s why I was so adamant about you having dates.”
Skwisgaar stares at his manager, left eye twitching. No, he can’t do the fucking waltz with Toki, there's no way Skwisgaar’s shitty self-restraint would hold him back through that dance. The band had to do this at another incredibly fancy occasion, years back when their first album went platinum, and Skwisgaar could remember how romantic the dance gets. He wouldn’t be able to survive it with Toki, and he starts shaking his head violently, ready to spout off every protest in the book, when Charles holds up a hand.
“Skwisgaar,” Charles says firmly, but his expression is soft. “I know you’re upset with Toki. But this is the most vulnerable position he’s very well ever been in. You know if the roles were reversed, he’d take care of you, even if you accidentally hurt him. He’d power through this party with you in the blink of an eye.”
Skwisgaar glares at Charles harshly, shutting his mouth and swallowing down all the protests on his tongue. His manger is right, and Skwisgaar squeezes his eyes shut as he steels himself. He says almost tiredly, “This dancing thing ams fucked ups. You knows how the paparazzi is with mes and Tokis. They ams goingks to sees us dateless ands sees us dancings togethers and thinks that we ams...”
“Say your date got drunk and is indisposed, and that Toki is filling in for her last minute. Dont worry about it,” Charles waves it off. The media has always been all over him and Toki, speculating a romance between the two of them - one of the biggest theories about why Toki’s been out of sight for so long was that he's trying to keep a low profile before he and Skwisgaar reveal a relationship. If only the fans knew how fucked up everything behind the scenes actually is.
Charles glances at Skwisgaar carefully, adding, “But then again. And pardon my language. But who, ah, gives a fuck what anyone else thinks?”
A half-hysterical laughs bubbles out of Skwisgaar’s throat, and he runs a hand through his hair uneasily before shaking it out. He sighs, pinching his temples, “This all ams goingks to kill mes, amnst it?”
Charles gives him his “don’t be so dramatic” look, but before the manager can respond, his phone goes off and he rushes to pick it up. Skwisgaar mutters a ‘goods luck’ to Charles - he knows he’s nervous about tonight, and probably rightfully so - and the blonde strides out of his office with a huff.
In the main area of the bus, the Klokateers are still fussing with the rest of the band to help them get ready. Nathan is glaring daggers as a Klokateer tries to tighten his girdle, Murderface is already chugging a bottle of tequila as he combs his mustache, and Pickles is angrily smoking a joint as he ties his dreadlocks back into a ponytail. The drummer turns away from the mirror he was looking in, and his eyes meet Skwisgaar’s. The two of them just had a conversation that would definitely be deemed un-metal by the rest of the guys, but Skwisgaar was thankful that he can finally confide in someone within the band. Skwisgaar now knows about Pickles’ crush on Nathan (even though it had already been pretty obvious), and Pickles knows about his history with Toki. Skwisgaar hopes he can convey in a look that his secret is safe. When Pickles smiles crookedly back at the blonde, he knows at least someone will be looking out for him tonight.
“Good, Skwisgaar, you’re here. This is the most fucking important decision we’ll ever make as a group,” Nathan’s eyes narrow seriously. “Here goes. Yes or no - does Toki get to be in the secret Santa this year?”
“NO!” Murderface yells instantly, “How isch he supposed to know what we want? He doeschnt even know us! What if he gets me, and then my fucking present SUCKSCH?!”
“It ams not his faults if he doesn’t remembors!” Skwisgaar crosses his arms. “You knows Toki loves the secrets Santas. He would kills you if he founds out you excludeds hims.”
“Regular Toki would,” Murderface points at him. “But what isch scoft-brain Toki gonna do? Thisch might be our one chance to get him out of the Santa circle for good!”
“Ims not doings it if Tokis ams not doings it,” Skwisgaar tilts his chin up stubbornly.
“Fine,” Nathan pulls out a notepad, scribbling something down. “Toki’s in. We’ll pick names tomorrow at breakfast.”
Murderface rolls his eyes, “Look, you know what? I don’t even care that Toki’s ruining fucking Christmas. Wanna know where this easchy-going attitude is coming from? How about because I’m scho happy I’m getting fucking LAID later! We all are! It’s baschically a schure thing!”
“Yeeeah, whatever,” Pickles grumbles, pouting as he glances at Nathan nervously. “I still don’t know why we need fuckin’ chicks moochin’ off of us tonight.”
“Yeah, it’s fucking disgusting,” Nathan grumbles, finally stuffed inside his girdle as he shrugs his suit jacket on. “I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times. Fuck. This. Gala.”
“Hey, at leascht you get another schot at Abigail!” Murderface winks at Nathan, and the tension in the room instantly spikes up as the lead singer and Pickles both tense. “Sche’s probably gonna schow up in one of thosche hot pantsuit thingsch...maybe sche’ll suck yer dick in the coatroom, dude! Didnt sche do that once when—“
“Noooo, no no no. Nope. Fuck you, Murderface,” Pickles puts his hands over his ears, and Murderface looks between them in total confusion.
“What’d I schay?”
Nathan just pinches his temples, barking out defensively, “Pickles isn’t...uh. A fan of Abigail. But neither am I, so. Nobody’s really thrilled about having to like, hang out with her and shit tonight, and—“
“Are you sures I looks okays?” They hear Toki’s voice from down the hall, and the Klokateer accompanying the brunette instantly tells him he looks very handsome. Which Skwisgaar is sure is most likely true - he can remember the way Toki would absolutely melt a room when he’d put the right suit and tie on. His body shouldn’t look as good as it does with in a suit, and-
His body. It suddenly clicks to Skwisgaar why Toki was getting ready in a different room - he didn’t want the rest of the guys to see his scars when he was trying to get dressed. The thought just kills Skwisgaar a little bit inside, and he stares at his hands with anxious eyes. He thinks about those scars every day - wonders what exactly Magnus did to him to put them there, and if he’d really be able to handle it if he got an answer.
“Oooh, Toki. Lookin’ ready to kill, hah?” Pickles leers, and Skwisgaar instantly looks up, color flooding to his face. Toki looks so infuriatingly attractive that it’s almost painful; black suit fitting in all the right places, blue eyes shocking, hair long and smooth and smile hopelessly adorable as he flashes a hopeful one directly at Skwisgaar. Tentatively, Skwisgaar manages to smile back.
“Toki,” Skwisgaar greets him, walking by as he travels to the kitchen, and the brunette is instantly following him at his heels.
“Skwisgaar,” he sounds so eager to see him, with a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Did yous hears the good news? We ams dates tonights! Pallings around with you wills be way betters than havingks to entertainingks some borings lady! I was worrieds about sayins something stupids anyways, and we can drinks and eat desserts and—“
Skwisgaar stops walking, turning to the brunette. He offers another tired smile, “You ams doingks the thing, when yous ams nervous and you donts shuts up.”
“I’m sorries!” Toki blurts, taking Skwisgaar’s hands in his, and the blonde stares at him in surprise. Toki hasn’t grabbed his hands like that in a long time, and his face heats at the contact. “I’m sorries abouts it all, Skwisgaar. I didnst knows you hates that guys, a-and...your guitar playins ams reallies good! Like, the fastest in the woild, right? That’s what Nathans said. You ams sos talenteds, I...I wish I could remembers beins able to plays with yous...”
Skwisgaar sighs, the corner of a sad smile tilting up the end of his lips as he stares upwards, “Sees, if you were all normols, you woulds nevors have complikmenteds mes like thats. It woulds have been ‘you ams not dildos at guitar, but I ams still way gooders than yous.’”
Toki doesn’t say anything, just looking down their hands. Skwisgaar knows that Toki hates feeling like a disappointment for not being able to remember, and the blonde’s face softens as he watches Toki pinches his temples in what looks like pain. Skwisgaar's voice is softer than he’s heard it in a while. “I’m sorries too. It ams not your faults what you remembors. Pickle ams right, somethings ams bettors than nothings.”
“No needs to be sorries,” Toki swallows, even though he has no idea how much need for apologies there really is. Skwisgaar’s eyebrows raise as Toki winces at nothing, and he shakes his head as he mutters to himself, “Shuts up, don’t says that about Skwisgaar...”
Skwisgaar looks back and forth, just to make sure nobody’s actually there. He has noticed, since Toki’s woken up from the coma, that he talks to himself. Usually it’s just him telling...whatever he’s hearing, to shut up, similarly to how he was talking the night Skwisgaar found him having a nightmare, or when he tore at his own throat in the studio. He knows Toki’s brain has to be all jumbled and whatever, but sometimes he wonders if there’s more to it than that...
Toki snaps back quickly, as he says playfully, “Everybodies says we useds to haves fights all the times, sos I shoulds probablies get useds to you beins mad at me, huh?”
A surprised chuckle bubbles out of Skwisgaar’s mouth. “I almost forgots you haves a sense of humors. Evens if it ams shitties as always.”
Toki smiles back, the blue in his eyes dancing like fire, and Skwisgaar’s fingers itch with that old feeling of wanting to kiss Toki but knowing that he has to control himself. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for them to be dates tonight after all, so long as Skwisgaar keeps himself in check. The blonde’s definitely thankful for the fact that he wasn’t set up by Charles, especially as the bus finally reaches its destination in tandem with the helicopter that carries the other guys’ dates.
“Okay, guys. Let’s try not to fuck this up, alright? Usually these things, uh. Do not fare well for us, but, I feel like we can do this without, yknow. Offing ourselves. So yeah,” Nathan concludes his pep talk, looking between the other four members of the band. His face softens for a second, to Skwisgaar’s surprise, “This is painfully un-metal of me to say, but, fuck it. It’s nice, doin’ this all...together, again. All of us.”
“Cheers to that,” Pickles smiles crookedly, and even Skwisgaar feels oddly emotional as the band turns towards the door. It really had been a while since the five of them went on an adventure, and getting out of their living room would be a good change. And honestly, the beginning of the night could’ve went much worse. It seemed that Charles did a pretty good job at matching people up - Murderface has this goth, Amazonian-type woman who won’t stop talking about Civl War-themed demolition derbies, and Pickles has a cute looking stoner chick playing a Gameboy next to him. She’s talking to him, but he’s not really paying attention, as he’s too busy watching Nathan and Abigail greet each other coldly. Nathan, ever the gentleman, still pulls out her chair for her, and Pickles’ left eye twitches as he turns to Toki and Skwisgaar.
“Hey, check this out,” Pickles whispers, opening up his palm. The guitarists peek over in unison, as Pickles holds up a couple colorful tablets. “These babies are how I’m gonna get through this fuckin’ night. Anybody want some gahddamn molly? Maybe a lil angel dust for dessert?”
Skwisgaar opens his mouth, but he knows there’s no point. He and Pickles just went round and round on this, and the drummer’s not going to give him anything. However, now it’s Skwisgaar's turn to be concerned as he raises an eyebrow, “Are you sures that ams the good ideas, Pickle? You alreadies got your panties ins a twist about Nathans and Abigails...”
“Nahhh, dude. It’s aaalll gooood,” Pickles smiles crookedly at him, tossing the little tablets down his throat and winking before taking his seat next to his date. Toki and Skwisgaar sit down as well - they’re a little ways away from the rest of the band, but far enough where Skwisgaar feels almost a sense of privacy. Murderface and his date are next to Charles, presumably so the manager can keep an eye on him after what happened last dinner, and Pickles, Nathan, and their dates, ended up side-by side. Skwisgaar can’t help but snort - If Charles was trying to avoid drama, why would he put Nathan between Pickles and Abigail?
“These ams free?” Toki asks, lifting up the champagne flute that was already poured and at his seat, eyes sparking eagerly.
“Toki, yous always gets too fucksed up at these types of things,” Skwisgaar chastises lightly, and he can feel Toki’s eyes on him as he lifts his own glass and takes a small sip. “That’s good shits, though. Expenskives. I wondors how manies—“
“You look sos handsomes,” Toki blurts, and Skwisgaar pauses and looks at him in surprise. The soft, dim lights of the hall above them make Toki look like an angel in all black (he needs to tell Nathan that would be a good name of a song), especially in the way they shine off of the high, huge stain glass windows. Skwisgaar’s face softens at Toki’s gooey expression, as he murmurs with more tenderness than he intends, “So does you.”
Toki’s cheeks color, and he looks like he wants to say something, but suddenly, a reporter jams himself between the two of them, causing the guitarists to jump in surprise.
“Skwisgaar!” The reporter’s camera flashes, capturing Toki and Skwisgaar’s bewildered expressions. “The most beautiful and desired man in the world is attending this event without a date! What’s up with that?”
Skwisgaar feels heat flood his face as he glares at the reporter, reciting the story Charles gave him, “My dates ams indiskposeds right nows. Dranks too much and couldnst make its.”
“Did you and Toki come together? There’s been a rumor that Toki has been out of the public eye for the past year because the two of you started secretly dating!”
Toki isn’t saying anything as he watches curiously, complementary bread in one hand and his already-empty champagne flute in the other. When he hears this, however, Toki’s eyebrows raise, and Skwisgaar’s face catches on fire. Luckily, the reporter keeps bombarding them with questions and unintentionally saves him, “And if you don’t have a date, who’s your partner for the first annual Dethwaltz?”
Skwisgaar clears his throat, trying to sound bored as he waves a hand, “Since my dates ams out of the picktors, Toki ams goings to step in.”
“Reallies?” Toki’s eyes sparkle, as do the reporter’s. “Wowee, I didnst knows we’d get to dance togethers!”
“Toki, where were you for all this time?” The reporter jams his microphone underneath Toki’s face, and the brunette tries to mask his annoyance with politeness, “Ums, I was—“
“The last public appearance you made was at Roy Cornickelson’s funeral! Do you have any comments on his death?”
Toki looks to Skwisgaar helplessly - he has no idea who Roy Cornickelson even is, but before Skwisgaar can butt in, the reporter puts a hand on Toki’s shoulder. “Are you still friends with Magnus Hammersmith? Do you have any idea where he could’ve gone since his disappearance?”
Toki’s body tenses when Magnus’ name is mentioned, and he tries to subtly shrug away the hand on his shoulder. It’s like someone’s trying to light a rage-fueled match behind his eyes, one that if it caught fire, would burn Toki up completely. He blinks, sucking in a breath as he parrots what Charles probably practiced beforehand with him, “I don’ts haves any comments on thats particular subjects.”
“That’s enough questions,” Charles practically materializes behind them, shooing away the reporter before rushing over to Pickles and Nathan. Pickles’s pupils are already hugely dilated as he grins in a devious way, leaned over Nathan and talking some kind of shit to Abigail. She looked amused, but also like she might grab Pickles by the dreds at any second. Skwisgaar has to feel bad for Charles, but, the manager did this to himself with the assigned seating.
“Ams yous okays?” Skwisgaar asks, as Toki loosens the collar of his suit just a bit. He knows by now, that strangers getting too close and too nosy with Toki really sets him off. But there almost seems to be an unhinged look in Toki’s eyes as he takes a deep breath and steadies himself.
“That guy ams reallies annoyins, huh?” Toki tries to laugh through his anger, and Skwisgaar looks at him worriedly. Luckily, another drink is delivered, and it doesn’t take long for Toki to down enough expensive champagne to get into one of his funny-tipsy moods. The two of them survive the dinner part of the night without much issue. They chatter amongst each other, and it almost feels like how it used to. They make fun of the different fancy douchebags attending the party, they end up challenging each other to who can subtly throw the most cherry tomatoes at the waiter before he notices. They feel like...friends, almost, and it feels so painfully good that Skwisgaar has to pinch himself several times throughout the night to make sure this isn’t a dream.
“Skwisgaar,” Toki leans next to him as they finish up their dessert. His eyes are on the people casually dancing nearby, “Does you knows the dance Charlie’s ams makins us do?”
“Ja, we had to lorns it a whiles back,” Skwisgaar says flippantly, and he realizes Toki looks anxious, biting him bottom lip as he bounces his leg. “Don’t be sillies, little dildo. Nothings to be norvous about.”
“It amnst hards?”
“Nos, you just haves to follows my leads. Just like whens we plays guitars—er, useds to plays. It ams probablies muscles memories, at this point,” Skwisgaar says, watching the light glow off of Toki’s champagne flute and shimmer in his eyes. Toki catches him looking, and his nervous expression softens a bit, as he asks imploringly, “Did I reallies plays as goods as yous?”
“Nos. I ams the best, but my playingks ams an imposkibles standords to meets,” Skwisgaar instantly says airily. “Even stills, you ams technicallies the woild's second fastest guitarist, because you beats everyone else when I picked yous for the band.”
Toki’s eyebrows raise, eyes sparkling, “You picked mes?”
“Ja. Bigs mistake,” Skwisgaar smiles charmingly, and a similar smile graces Toki’s features. Skwisgaar hasn’t felt this...content, in a long time. He had been dreading this dinner, but it was playing out so nicely for him. Maybe Charles set this all up on purpose, like a grand matchmaker, or something. Speaking of their manager, about twenty minutes later Charles is behind them again, looking stressed as usual with a wine glass cradled in his right hand. “It’s time for the dance. Do either of you know if Pickles...? Took some sort of drug?”
The three of them look over, to see Pickles slamming out drumbeats on the table, laughing and sweaty and dreds falling messily out of the ponytail. His date is tapping along, clearly grooving, and Nathan is glaring jealous daggers at the two of them. Skwisgaar knows Pickles doesn't think Nathan likes him back - but it's so painfully clear that he can't believe the drummer hasn't realized.
“Ja, he tooks the mollies,” Toki chirps, and Charles sharply inhales and pinches his temples.
“One night. That’s all I asked,” he grumbles, shaking his head as he holds up a finger and walks away, off to deal with another problem. Skwisgaar and Toki make their way to the edge of the ballroom floor, watching as the other couples start to come together. Murderface strolls over and stands next to them, his date on his arm. He leans in, so only the guitarists can hear, “This is a schure fuckin’ deal! I’m totally gettin’ laid tonight, scho don't wait up!”
“Wows, for the forst time in twenties years?” Skwisgaar smirks, and Toki giggles next to him.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a responsche,” Murderface holds up a hand, glaring at Skwisgaar. “Becausch guessch what? I’m the one with the date, and you’re here by your fucking schelf.”
“He ams heres with me, Moiderface!” Toki beams, throwing an arm around Skwisgaar, and the blonde really hopes that Murderface can’t see the blush creeping up his cheeks. Thankfully, Murderface merely raises an eyebrow, “Scho that means you two have to do this waltz schit together? I even have to schay it at this point?”
“Nos, you don’t haves to says it,” Skwisgaar sighs, and Murderface grins crookedly at him before turning back to his date. Pickles and Nathan finally make their way over, dragging their feet and not looking at all eager to participate in this dance. The booze and drugs they're both under the influence of will hopefully help, at least - the drummer’s still high as a kite, and Nathan’s clearly gotten pretty tipsy as well. What with two of them having to do something as un-metal as walzting, while having to watch the person you love dance with someone else, Skwisgaar can’t really blame them for wanting to loosen up a bit beforehand.
“Hey. Have I mentioned,” Nathan glares at the dance floor like it’s something vile, hands stuffed into the pockets of his expensive dress pants. “Fuck this gala.”
“It amnst that bads,” Skwisgaar offers, waving a hand, and he tries to ignore the way Toki beams proudly. “Will be bettors once this stupids fuckingks dance is over.”
“I hate that I know how to do this,” Pickles glares, eyes blinking in different intervals. “‘Cuz I knew how, before Charles made us learn it. My muthurrrrr made m’take lessons. I’m a fucking...professional.”
“That’s cute,” Nathan says where he sways next to him, accidentally outloud, and Pickles’ eyebrows raise as Nathan’s face visibly colors.
“Y’know, maybe we should switch, Abigail,” Pickles’ date smirks, sliding a hand up Pickles’ arm, and Nathan’s eyes are trained on it.
“That would be fucking metal,” Nathan says, again accidentally outloud. His own words register to him, and he scowls deeply, “Fuck. Why do I keep...saying things.”
“Yeah, you should really stop talking,” Abigail pats Nathan’s beefy arm, and she and Pickles’ date laugh together. Skwisgaar can’t help the smile that cracks on his face as Nathan and Pickles try to avoid each other’s eyes - the two of them were so like the early days of himself and Toki, just a little more...emotionally constipated. He hoped maybe he could help them, so they didn’t end up regretting wasted time ten years later. Skwisgaar feels a panging in his chest., because telling Pickles the story of his and Toki's romance really drudged up his feelings of crushing regret. He always felt them, every day, but now it's about six-hundred times worse. The more time he spends with the brunette, the harder it is to be around him. He's happy to be around Toki, but he needs all of him, and then he'd finally be able to tell him that he knows how he feels. Because right now, it isn't fair - the only version of himself that Toki knows now is how Skwisgaar has treated him since he's woken back up. He probably thinks he's just this caring, emotional, soft guitar god who takes care of him. He's called him nice, words that Regular Toki would never speak in a million years, because he knows Skwisgaar better than that. Why did it have to take the absolute worse-case scenario for Skwisgaar to finally realize what he wanted?
The lights dim, and flash a couple times to signal the dance is beginning shortly. Skwisgaar turns, expecting Toki to be next to him - instead, the brunette has been pulled aside by that reporter again, and he’s really starting to look pissed.
“I donts knows,” Toki stresses, hands in a strangling motion, as he tries to move back. The reporter grabs him, keeping him in place, and Toki looks down at his hand on his arm with thinly veiled rage, “I’m tryins to—“
“And when did you and Skwisgaar cross the line, from hate to love?”
Toki’s left eye twitches, voice raising, “We didnst! We ams just friends!”
“But how long have you been sleeping together?”
Toki’s hands are still in the air, looking like he might actually strangle this guy, and Skwisgaar snaps out of it as he rushes over and harshly tugs Toki away from the reporter. Toki is breathily heavily as they go back to their spot in line, and something about him
“What ams wrongs?” Skwisgaar asks, hand on Toki’s back.
“The fuckins reporter ams reallies pissin me off,” Toki breathes raggedly, “I cants even sees straight.”
Skwisgaar looks at Toki’s face, and he’s...mildly shocked. The whites of his eyes have faded to almost red, a couple drops of blood dripping onto the white of the dress shirt underneath his suit. “Jesus, Tokis. Calms down.”
“Nos--! Stop sayins that!" Toki says to presumably the voice in his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t wants to hurts anyones!”
Skwisgaar just stares at him, swallowing thickly. This...probably is something he needs to tell Charles about. He glances over at Abigail, and his features harden - they need her to tell them what she knows before things start getting more out of control. He rubs his hand against Toki’s back, and the fight slowly starts to drain out of the brunette. Luckily, before they can be bothered anymore, the orchestra begins to play.
“Oh gahd,” Pickles groans, and along with all the other leads, the guys step in front of their dates and bow. They’ve only done this dance one other time, but Skwisgaar remembers how strange it was to see Dethklok acting like...gentleman. Sure enough, Toki is staring at him in surprise, and Skwisgaar can’t tell if his face is flushed from alcohol or something else. The blonde steels himself before stepping forward and gently putting his hands on Toki in the way that he remembered from last time. His left hand locks with Toki’s opposite, his right on Toki’s waist, and blue eyes meet his before he quite literally sweeps them both away.
Toki looks like someone’s hit him over the head, eyes sparkling, as Skwisgaar perfectly sends them sliding across the ballroom floor. He doesn’t take his eyes off Skwisgaar’s, even as the blonde maneuvers them around like it’s second nature to him. Skwisgaar dips him back, earning a small gasp in his ear from Toki, and he's got his usual bored perfectionist expression on his face before he flashes Toki a tiny smile. The brunette instantly melts in his arms, the gooeyest smile blossoming on his face, and Skwisgaar feels his heart pounding in his chest. It’s like the two of them are in their own little bubble, or a snowglobe, just going round and round and unable to take their eyes off of each other.
Skwisgaar was right about the overwhelming romance of the dance - they way they move together is soft, gentle, and classy. Toki’s hand is in his and his body is so close and Skwisgaar tries to focus all his attention on dancing and not his desire to grab Toki by the face and kiss him. And it's hard to resist, especially when their faces come so close, and the tension that’s been rising between them ever since Toki has woken back up feels like it’s heating up to a boiling point. It only gets worse when Skwisgaar steps back, and he raises a hand. Toki seems almost dazed and confused, but he has enough sense to do the right move and put his hand against the blonde’s. They circle around, and Skwisgaar feels like he’s burning alive, especially when they come back together and he pulls Toki flush against him.
“Wowee,” Toki whispers, the lights of the room glowing softly in his eyes, and Skwisgaar sees it. He sees the adoration on Toki’s face, and it throttles him. Even though Toki doesn’t know him, his love for Skwisgaar must’ve stayed - his face gives it all away.
“Toki,” Skwisgaar murmurs so quietly, voice fragile. “Tells me you remembors this. Betweens us.”
“I remembers somethins abouts the feelin,” Toki whispers back, eyes the same shade of desperate they were in the recording studio all those years ago. It was like what Toki told him, the night where Skwisgaar saw his scars - “I can feels somethins that didn’ts go aways.” No matter what Toki's been through, their feelings have transcended tragedy. Maybe it's the kind of love, that follows you through lifetimes, and Skwisgaar thinks about the night before the funeral when he held his hand up to knock, and walked away instead. On the hand of Toki’s he’s holding, his thumb skims over the scar on the back of his knuckles, as his cheek rests against the side of Toki’s head.
"I hopes I finds my ways backs to beins the Toki you ams lovins," Toki whispers, nuzzling against Skwisgaar's blonde locks. "He ams a lucky guys."
"He woulds probablies disagrees," Skwisgaar can't help but chuckle, and even though Toki's right here in his arms he's never missed him so much. He remembers the rare occasions where, when Toki would accidentally fall asleep in his bed and Skwisgaar would let himself be cuddled close. Toki's the only person he's ever let hold him like that, and he'd never admit to how much his heart aches for that feeling again. Dancing with him know feels familiar, in that sense, and it nearly sends tears glimmering down Skwisgaar's face. He controls himself, though, and his voice is almost inaudible as he says softly, "Like I saids in the hoskpitals, when you forst woke ups. I'll waits. I'll always bes waitings."
Toki pulls back and stares at him with that pure adoration again, and it suddenly hits Skwisgaar that he might not be the only one having self-restraint issues. He knows Toki's "I reallies want to kiss yous" face from firsthand experience, and seeing it again sends a sparkling warmth blossming through his chest. Toki's hand cups his face, suddenly, fingers tracing his cheekbones in the exact same way he used to, and Skwisgaar feels those tears threaten to fall from his eyes again. But then, the moment shatters before his very eyes. The adoration drains out of his face, replaced with something akin to a hurt confusion. His eyes shift a bit nervously, and Skwisgaar watches as a drop of blood rolls down his cheek and drips onto the ballroom floor beneath them. He whispers, more to himself than anyone, "Bes quiets, Skwisgaar woulds never does that."
Skwisgaar looks left and right, anxiety rolling over him, and he's still swaying the two of them around as he asks faintly, "Does whats?"
"Skwisgaar, you don't wants to knows. I know it's not trues, I--"" Toki shakes his head, looking guilty, and it fucking breaks Skwisgaar's heart because it probably is true.
His voice has more force to it, as he demands, "Does whats?"
Toki looks almost ashamed, as he squeezes his eyes shut, and confesses, "The voice keeps sayins...this ams your faults, that I can't remembers anythins. It ams sayins you left mes, and..."
He trails off. They're still dancing, but the blonde feels like his legs could give out at any second. He's always been terrified, that Toki would remember the bad before the good - he's had no flashes of their romantic past, but the worst memories seem to be the ones fighting their way to the forefront. Skwisgaar doesn’t fucking understand. He doesn’t get why something that should invoke good memories, like Skwisgaar’s guitar playing or the two of them having a moment, keeps bringing bad ones. Toki used to love him. Even if he didn't anymore, even if he got over Skwisgaar, he'd never compartmentalize those memories as bad ones. Their time as "benefit friends" wasn't as long as it should've been, but it very well may have been the best time of both of their lives. Something is fucking messing with Toki's mind, and Skwisgaar is sure of it.
"I'm sorries," Toki squeezes his eyes shut, unable to look at the heartbreak on Skwisgaar's face anymore, as a drop of blood drips onto the blonde's white suit. "It doesn’t makes any sense...”
Skwisgaar can deal with his own pain later - like Charles said, his top priority is to get Toki through this night, so he quickly tries to wipe the blood from under Toki’s eyes before somone sees. Toki just shakes his head, looking guilty, "Skwisgaar, you don't have to--"
"Yes, I does," Skwisgaar says impassively, trying to swallow down any emotion in his voice as he gently takes Toki by the arm. “We needs to get yous to the bathrooms, before the reporters see you bleeingks.”
Luckily, said reporter is busy taking pictures of Nathan and Abigail, so Skwisgaar guides them both into the bathroom. He watches Toki lean over the sink, eyes squeezed shut and hand over his mouth, and Skwisgaar lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“Fucks!” Toki slams his hands on the sink, blood dripping into the banister, and Skwisgaar flinches. “I’m not fuckins hurting anyone!”
“Toki,” Skwisgaar tries to keep his voice level, and fails miserably as it crakcs. “Ams there...someones else ins your heads with you?”
Toki instantly is nodding, and when he turns around, the whites of his eyes are red again and he looks utterly, mentally fucked. His eyes shift back and forth, “He ams always tellins me to hurts people, and he wants me to ruins the galas, and that’s why he’s beins so louds, but I knows how much this night means to Charlies...”
Skwisgaar has no idea what this means - but he knows someone who might. He’s gonna get some fucking answers from Abigail tonight, because Toki might not make it much longer otherwise.
Just as Nathan expected, this gala could be summarized in two words: not brutal.
Nathan was...not enjoying Pickles’ date. Not really at all, actually. Sure, on the outside, it looked like Charles had picked a perfect girl for the drummer. She played drums too, apparently, as she wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. Seemed nice, smelled like blunts, had kind of a hot grungy look to her....and Nathan fucking hated her. But it seemed Pickles didn’t really give a fuck about her either, because all he was doing was keeping an eye out on Nathan and picking fights with Abigail. In all honestly, it was kind of funny, but also really fucking annoying to be sitting between. Luckily, Nathan had old reliable - an open bar, and a flask of tequila hidden in the pocket of his coat.
He and Abigail danced the fucking waltz together. It was annoying, and kind of...weird, being that close to her again, but it wasn’t that terribly awkward, because Nathan was too busy watching Pickles. The guy was a goddamn waltz master - he had taken lessons as a kid, and he was really fucking good at it. His date looked like she had actual stars in her eyes as Pickles swept her off her feet, and that was enough to keep Nathan irritated and closed off for the entirety of the dance.
“And thets why, bein’ a producer is for fuckin’ losers,” Pickles concludes, head lolling and a crooked grin on his face where the four of them now sit at the bar. It registers to Nathan that since Pickles is leaning over him again to talk to Abigail, he’s got one hand on Nathan’s leg to keep himself propped up. His fingers scratch against Nathan’s thigh unthinkingly, and Nathan starts to feel a little...weird. Like, hot around the collar weird, maybe, and he thinks about how warm Pickles was in his arms last night, and how hot he looked fucking waltzing like a pro, and his brain starts to feel like it’s short-circuiting.
“Hm. Sounds reasonable to me,” Abigail chuckles, chin in her hand, as Pickles takes a big gulp from his champagne flute and stands up.
“I’ve gahtta...take a piss,” he announces. He puts on hand and each of Nathan’s shoulders, and leans forward and smooshes their cheeks together, “Y’gonna be okay while I’m gone, Nate? You’ve had a looootta molly.”
Nathan blushes madly, voice a deep growl as his shoulders tense underneath Pickles’ dainty hands, “That’s you who’s had too much molly, Pickles.”
His drummer merely pats his shoulders lovingly, then fucks off to the bathroom. Nathan idly hopes he doesn’t get lost or something and leave him sitting here awkwardly. As previously stated, Nathan fucking hates group silence.
“Wow. Pickles is...” his date chuckles, shaking her head. “He’s—“
“He’s what? A goddamn delight? Good at smashing the shit out of some drums? Yes and fucking yes,” Nathan says, still feeling pretty wasted, and not about to let this girl talk shit on his best friend. Instead, however she surprises him.
“He is so into you,” the stoner chick’s eyes meet Nathan’s, and he reels back in his chair like he’s been slapped.
“Wh—? Who the, uh. Who the fuck are you talking to,” He asks, looking left and right in absolute confusion, and he hears Abigail laugh beside him. He turns to her swiftly, “What’s so funny?”
“I mean, why else do you think the band broke up over me, Nathan?” Abigail raises an eyebrow at him in amusement. “The two of you both barely even knew me. You really think Pickles getting that angry about us hooking up wasn’t a small part of a bigger issue?”
Nathan just stares at her for what feels like forever, and he feels like someone just reached into his skull and ripped out his hazy brain in handfuls. “I don’t....I’m not following.”
Abigail chuckles again, asking in almost disbelief, “He never told you?”
Nathan merely shakes his head, eyebrow arching as he demands, “Told me what.”
“You really wanna know?”
Nathan glowers at her, slurring, “You keep enough shit secret from this band. Fucking tell me.”
“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Abigail holds her hands up, looking so goddamn amused, and Nathan sucks in a breath through his teeth. He could only remember a handful of times where Pickles and Abigail interacted. Nathan, meanwhile, spent every goddamn day with the guy. What information could she possibly have that he doesn't?
“Pickles was in the studio once, when Toki first went into the coma and Charles wanted me to try and engineer some new content for the fans. We couldn’t get anything done because he was wasted, of course,” Abigail rolls her eyes, chin in her palm. “You came in in the middle of the session and started trying to bother me. You kissed me at the control console for so long that Pickles threw his drumsticks at the plexiglass.”
“I remember,” Nathan grumbles, looking away, because he does remember that. It was right in the middle of when everything was as it’s worst point - Skwisgaar was only a couple weeks away from OD’ing, Pickles was a nervous wreck, and Murderface was being even more of a dick than usual. Nathan just wanted some goddamn affection from anyone, before he blew his depressed brains out. But he wished he had known he was looking for it in the wrong place, because one other key event was about to happen, and Nathan’s tipsy enough to acknowledge it, “That was right before you, uh. Oh yeah, fucking broke up with me.”
“Mmhm,” Abigail nods. “Keep listening. You walked out of the studio. I look back up at Pickles, and he’s drunk-crying his fucking eyes out. To summarize, he told me to step aside so he could be with you. Said he’s been in love with you since he was ‘wearing spandex and eyeliner’ and he had 'first dibs.' Of course, I told him it wasn’t happening.”
Nathan just stares at her, face unreadable. She continues, “But then. Later that night, you fell asleep on the couch after we watched we watched a movie. I got up, went to the kitchen to get some water. And you know what’s funny?” Abigail smiles a bit sadly at Nathan, who stares back like a deer in headlights. “I didn’t even think about waking you up, or even throwing a blanket over you. But when I came back, Pickles had a blanket around your shoulders and his arm around your back as he tried to help you get to bed. He walked you all the way from the living room to the bottom floor of Mordhaus just to get you tucked in.”
Nathan feels a weird, foreign feeling rise in his throat and burn behind his eyes. He just keeps staring at Abigail, and she just keeps talking, “You guys had already lost so much, with Toki. And I wanted to move on from the memories of what being involved with Dethklok brought anyways, so. I broke up with you. I don’t know. We both know you never looked at me the way you looked at him.”
“Pickles is my best fucking friend,” Nathan’s voice is a choked-off growl, black fingernails digging into his own knees. “He just...he doesn’t...”
"He does, Nathan." Abigail chuckles again, and Nathan feels his face heat even before she says what she does next, “You even said it yourself, at the funeral - you didn’t want me, if it meant you couldn’t have him. I decided to be the bigger person and step aside.”
And then Pickles stumbles back into the room, the smell of weed wafting around him as he sits back in his chair. Nathan’s sitting stiff as a board, his whole world feeling really fucking shaky around him as he tries to look anywhere but Pickles. Even as the shotgun kiss flashes through his mind, and even when an image of Pickles as a young, feral rockstar who cuddled him for warmth every night practically throttles him. Even last fucking night, snuggling him felt so perfect, just like it did back then, and Nathan bites his bottom lip so hard it nearly splits. There’s no way Pickles has feelings for him. And especially not since he was fresh out of Snakes ‘n Barrels. Is Abigail just fucking with him, or—
“You okey, Nate?” Pickles’ breath is hot in his ear, and his hand finds its place back on Nathan’s leg, and Nathan shoots up from his chair so fast and it nearly gives them all whiplash.
“I, uh. Need some chips.” Nathan gets the fuck out of there, rushing down the long hallway and pushing his way through the first door he sees. Hell yes, the fucking coatroom, nobody’s gonna come in here and witness his gay crisis. Even though he’s not gay, he doesn’t fucking like Pickles like that, and Pickles doesn’t like him. He might be grungy and hot and hilarious and the best friend that Nathan’s ever had, but—
But it could ruin everything. It could ruin his fucking band. He already lost Pickles once, and it was a fucking nightmare trying to live without him. It almost broke Dethklok up for good. Fifteen years, they've been friends, and that's a long fucking time to invest in something just to risk it all on a whim. Nathan usually takes whatever the fuck he wants, but this, this he can’t just—
“Nate?” Pickles is staring at him, halfway into the coatroom, and Nathan’s back hits the hall as he instinctively steps away from his drummer. He sounds so fucking concerned as he asks, “Why’d you run ahff like thet?”
Pickles closes the door behind him, coming closer, and Nathan swallows, trying not to look at Pickles’ lips, trying not to imagine ferociously kissing him, trying not to imagine grabbing him and—
“Helloooo? Earth to Nathan,” Pickles waves a hand in front of his face, and fuck, he does the thing. The crooked smile that he always does, and it shouldn’t be this hot, “Did you steal some of my molly, dude? You freakin’ out?”
Nathan swallows nervously, “I, uh. I am, I’m freakin’, just st-stay back...”
“Cahlm down, big guy. Jesus, c’mere.” Pickles comes to him, instead, and hugs him. His thin arms loop as much of the way around Nathan’s middle as they can, and Nathan can hear his own uneven breathing as Pickles’ head settles right over his heart. “Is it that fuckin’ bitch? Women are like that, Nate. They get up in yer fuckin’ head.”
“No. I mean yes, but uh, it’s not...” Nathan trails off, shaking his head but unsure what the hell to say. “Pickles. We’re hugging in a closet. This is kind of...weird, isn’t it?”
Pickles doesn’t say anything for a couple beats, and Nathan can practically feel his body thrumming against him with nervous energy. He sucks in a breath of air, “Actually, I, ahh...wanted to talk to you about somethin’. Uhhm.”
Oh. Oh god, Pickles must be able to feel Nathan’s heart absolutely pounding, and he might be an idiot and he might still be drunk but he thinks he knows exactly what Pickles is going to say before the words even come out. “It’s...well, fer a long time, I...” Pickles pulls back to look at him, and his face is burning red and his pupils are still huge as he tries to gesticulate his point. “I. Y’know. Y’know that you’re, uh, haht. But, but that's not why I—“
“Pickles,” Nathan’s voice sounds hoarse to his own ears, “I’m—“
“Just shud up and kiss me, dude.” Pickles’ rough hands slide up his face, and he leans in to lay one on him, and Nathan Explosion usually prides himself on being generally unshakeable. But he freaks the fuck out. He grabs Pickles by his shoulders, and he holds him out at arms length, stopping the kiss. It takes Pickles a couple seconds to register what happened, and then he stares at Nathan like the guy just shot him. The lead singer sees the moment that the panic sets in - Pickles’ eyes widen, and he twitches violently, before he starts laughing way too loudly.
“I gotcha, dude! Fuck! Yer too fuckin’ easy!”  Pickles laughs, but it’s choked, and nervous, and Nathan starts shaking his head, wanting to tell his friend he doesn’t have to do this, but Pickles keeps going, “I was just pallin’ around, dude. And I’m suuuuuper high on all this molly. So, yeeah. Okey, good talk. Y-You wanna let me down?”
He looks like he’s gonna fucking cry, his very kissable bottom lip wobbling, and fuck! Bad Nathan, stop thinking about kissing Pickles! There’s so many things Nathan wants to say, but he’s always been so fucking inelegant when it comes to...words, so he just kind of stares at Pickles, and what manages to slip out is, “Did you, uhhhhhh. Did you say I was,”
“No,” Pickles instantly says, green eyes darting around. “Nope. I did naht say thet, Nathan, I—“
"I mean. We can't fucking--" Natahn gesticulates, and Pickles is nodding along with him violently. "We can't, like. Do this. This band already has enough problems."
"Ohhhh no no no, yeah, I know. Tohtally agree, dude, like I said, I was just kiddin'," Pickles is still shaking his head, talking too fast and starting to get all shaky, and Nathan's still holding him for some godforsaken reason. He can't bring himself to let go, even though he's telling Pickles they can't do this, and it's like he can practically hear his little angel/devil consciences on his shoulder. "You're the fucking seventh top financial power in the world, you should be able to take what you want, and you fucking want Pickles," versus, "Your band already has one foot in the grave, you and Pickles just finally got back to normal, and you can't afford to risk this." He has no fucking idea which one to listen to, and he feels like someone's tearing him apart from the inside out. And he realizes, faintly, that Pickles is still talking, eyes teary and foot tapping nervously, "--and I meant it in like, a dudes kind of way! Like, like when Me 'n Tony, we--"
"Ugh! Don't talk about that fucking dickhead," Nathan snarls, and Pickles' eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and his mouth shuts pretty fucking quick. Nathan is generally a pretty jealous person, and thinking about Pickles dating a band member who isn't him is the most un-metal thought to ever cross his mind. But at the same time, the idea of dating is fucking gross, and acting jealous definitely betrays his whole "we can't do this" thing.
"Okey, okey, just--the moral of the fuckin' story is, I'm sahrry, fer jokin' around, so just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened," Pickles promises, and his face betrays his words because a couple tears are flittering down his face, and Nathan wants to thumb them away. Or kiss them, and Nathan squeezes his eyes shut as he drops his grip on the drummer's arms.
"Pickles," Nathan tries again, taking a step closer as the drummer takes another one back. "Listen to me. I've lost so fucking much ever since the funeral. All of Toki's shit, Skwisgaar fucking overdosing...we haven't played a show in a goddamn year. But I got you back, that day, and I can't...I'm not..."
Pickles stares at him, looking so vulernable and scared and Nathan scowls and as his eyes meet the drummer's green ones, "I'm not fucking strong enough to lose you again."
"Nate..." Pickles whispers, and it's like Nathan loses any and all self-control as he suddenly grabs Pickles by the face and kisses him. Pickles makes a squeaky, muffled noise of shock, face absolutely flaming underneath Nathan’s palms, and he instantly grabs Nathan by the lapels of his suit and kisses him back with an intensity that throws Nathan for a fucking loop. There's a fucking tongue stud in his mouth and calloused hands on his face and dreadlocks tangled in his hands, and he can't--they can't--
Nathan breaks the kiss as quick as he started it, breathing uneven, and he has no fucking idea what he wants or what’s going on. Pickles is breathing unevenly as he stares at him, face flushed, looking terrified and confused. Nathan doesn't know what the fuck to do so he just turns and walks out, face on fire and lips tingling. He can’t believe he just fucking impulsively kissed Pickles and then walked the fuck out without a word, after just saying that they couldn't do that. Because they couldn't do that, even though it's so fucking good that it actually hurts.
As Nathan gets closer to the ballroom, deep in his thoughts as he walks down the long hallway, he hears it. Skwisgasr yelling. He freezes, a terrible kind of feeling pouring over him as he rushes through the threshold. Straight off the bat, he can see Abigail and Murderface doing their best to hold Skwisgaar back, who’s yelling for Toki to "stops it, Toki, please!" and Nathan has to crane his head to see the rest of the scene.
Toki is completely slicked in blood, big gobs of it clinging to the eternal blackness of his ruined suit. He has the reporter from earlier by the sides of his head, bringing it down hard over and over against his knee. “You wants me to hurts someones? I’ll fuckins kills this guy!”
Skwisgaar looks absolutely horrified, still trying to push his way through, and before he can rush over, Nathan’s at his side and shoving him back. When Toki gets like this, there’s really no stopping him, and Skwisgaar would throw himself into the action just to try and get Toki to knock it off. Charles is speaking rapidly to someone on his phone, party guests are starting to freak out, and everything is falling apart. Pickles walks back in, still looking flustered and confused, but he rushes over to the scene and his stupid (okay, she's kind of cool, but Nathan still hates her) date starts filling him on what happened. He glances over at Nathan, whose eyes instantly snap away.
“What the fuck is going on?” Nathan demands, attention back on the scene, and if Toki beating the shit out of this guy wasn’t so metal, he’d have looked away from all the gore by now. But that's what it is - just a goddamn gorefest, because Toki's practically tearing this guy apart. It's not like the last time, at the Snakes 'n Barrels concert. This is fucking animalistic, in the most brutal type of way, and it''s just not Toki.
“Thisch reporter kept shovin' Toki around, and he freaked the fuck out!” Murderface exclaims. “If thisch messches with me getting pusschey tonight, I swear to GOD—“
“Nathans, it ams nots just abouts the reporter botheringks him. I think there ams somethingks seriouslies wrongs with Toki,” Skwisgaar clutches desperately at the arm Nathan has thrown in front of him. Nathan watches the brunette smash the reporters face against the floor, and that’s when he gets a glimpse at Toki’s face. Blood running down his cheeks, whites of his eyes red, teeth bared in an animalistic rage.
“Have Toki’s eyes always been that...color. What the fuck,” Nathan squints, an unsettling feeling rattling through him, and Skwisgaar’s head is rapidly shaking.
“That’s what I ams tellingks you,” Skwisgaar says, voice as serious as Nathan’s ever heard it. “Toki keeps rememboringks only the bad things, but ams triggered by good things, like my guitars playing, and...I thinks someone ams mansipulatings his heads. He says someones else ams in there with him.”
Abigail’s breath hitches next to them. Her eyes are wide as she stares at Skwisgaar. “Oh my god. That’s exactly what he said to me, when we were still with Magnus.”
“Someone else? Who the fuck else could it be?” Nathan stresses, voice grating. "I mean, that fucking clown did say he thought maybe it could've been someone besides Magnus, but...he's also a fucking idiot, so. I wasn't sure what to do with that information."
“I-I don’t know, Toki told me he thought someone was in his head,” Abigail says. “He was hearing this voice.”
“Ja! He tells me he ams hearings the voice in his heads!” Skwisgaar points at her, starting to shake nervously. "It's been extras bads todays..."
“Fuck,” Abigail puts her head in her hands, shaking her head. Her eyes land on Toki, his messy hair and his bloody fists and over-tired bloodshot eyes, and she sighs as she pinches the bridge of her nose. “Fuck it. I’ll tell you guys everything, if we can get to a place with a TV and an HDMI cable.”
“Thanks fuckings gods! It ams abouts times,” Skwisgaar hisses, flinching as Toki shoves the reporter’s face against the floor in a particularly hard stomp. Abigail turns to the blonde swiftly, glaring, “Skwisgaar, I don’t really like you that much. However, I wasn’t just protecting Toki, keeping the story from you guys. This is going to fuck you up.”
Skwisgaar swallows, hands tightening on Nathan’s arm. “We needs to knows hows to fix hims. I can handles it.”
“No,” Abigail sighs sadly at him. “You won’t be able to, once you see what I have to show you. But you’re right - you need to know exactly what you’re up against.”
Somehow, as Toki flatly snaps the reporter's neck, Nathan has a feeling they're not fucking ready to hear this. 
Charles has learned, you have to be crafty to get things done. There's no way he would've been able to keep Dethklok in line, fake his own death, rescue Toki, or do any of the things that fall under his managerial line of duty without playing a little...dirty. He needed to find an unorthodox way to get Abigail to tell them what she knows, all while getting Dethklok back into the industry. He also saw the frustration that was tearing at the seams of the band - Pickles and Nathan trying to dance around their feelings for each other, and Skwisgaar trying to grapple with his love for Toki, who's falling for him all over again. He needs to get everything back on track. So, what does Charles do? He orchestrates a gala.
He tells Toki it would be better for him to be dateless (which was true, he could've easily slipped up), and he manages to convince Skwisgaar that his date - who never really existed - exploded in a plane crash. Skwisgaar and Toki end up getting to spend a romantic evening together, and Charles really thought volunteering the boys for the waltz would really push the lovelust over the edge. Making Abigail and Nathan attend the gala together, he figured, would definitely speed things along for Pickles and Nathan as well. He seats said love triangle together, banking on Pickles either getting so riled up he admits his feelings, or Abigail doing it for him. He knows his boys better than they know themselves, and he's proud of the way things are going as he watches Toki and Skwisgaar on the ballroom floor, and Pickles practically chase Nathan to the coatroom together to hopefully discuss their feelings and not do anything obscene near Charles' expensive coat. They might not be where they need to be yet, but it's definitely progress. Things need to get bad, before the boys get their happy ending. He'll keep working on it.
Toki beating the reporter wasn't premeditated, but it actually ended up helping his case. He didn't even need to show Abigail his brain scans before she cracked. Which, if he had, she'd see a thick, oozing blackness, coating the hippocampus, the neo-cortex and the amygdala - the parts of the brain that specifically deal with memory. Charles didn't understand the scans, but to him, it looked...almost like sabotage. Like someone intentionally had gone into Toki's head, and slathered specific sections of his brain with darkness. Everyone who witnessed Toki beat the reporter would undergo a...seminar, in which their silence would be ensured. Said reporter, if he makes it, will be paid a large sum of money for his troubles. He didn't plan for Toki to go as...ballistic as he did, but it still got his point across to Abigail that leaving Toki to his own devices was a dangerous move.
Now, he walks with the boys and Abigail to the Hatredcopter. They need to get back to Mordaus, and they need to get answers tonight.
It won't be long now, until Charles can finally fucking do his job again, and save his band.
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mymelodyheart · 5 months ago
Forget Me Not Chapter 9 ~A Storm of Wishes~
Claire scanned the room, gaze landing on all her boxed belongings in one swoop. On the other side of the living space were Geillis' suitcases. Although it was cold, sunlight streamed through the high Georgian windows, casting a shadow from the eight-panel grid onto the herringbone wooden floor. A flutter of excitement swept through her at the thought of sharing the rented house with Geillis. It was a hasty decision inspired by its proximity to her workplace, The Fraser Manor Inn, and the fact that she and Jamie were together. For her, it would have been weird on so many levels to continue living in Lallybroch, especially when everyone in the village knew she was the Frasers' foster daughter.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Jamie walked in with the last box containing her possessions. Her initial excitement was slightly dampened when the reality of his impending departure hits her in the guts. The last few days had been focused on re-discovering each other, emotionally and physically, resisting to dwell on Annalise's plight. Insensitive as it may have seemed to a neutral observer, Claire eased her guilt by reminding herself, that it was her idea to send Jamie away and that alone was already a selfless act.
She noticed a slight frown marred Jamie's face. Obviously, he was still not convinced with her choice of living away from their family home, mainly because he would be leaving for France the next day. Though she loved the Fraser family, she didn't want to be defined as their fostered orphan. Not that there was anything wrong with being an orphan, but there had been far too many stigmas attached to the word growing up. So it only made sense to have a place of her own, and more so, determined.
It was by chance, the morning after they first made love by the fireplace, Jamie and Claire had stopped by the village coffee shop for breakfast, owned for years by a Mrs Graham. While serving them coffee, she had announced she was looking for new tenants for her three-bedroom Georgian house on the outskirts of the hamlet. Knowing Geillis was looking for a place within walking distance to work and a pub, she made a snap decision, surprising herself and Jamie, by offering herself for the tenancy. After a few phone calls with Geillis and a couple of rounds of coffees, the arrangements were made, despite Jamie kicking up a fuss.
"Weel, this is the last of it, Sassenach," he said, putting down his load on the table. "I dinna ken why ye couldna wait 'til I come back to move. Ye're safer in Lallybroch while I'm away." It was his last attempt to convince her to stay in Lallybroch, but they both knew he was fighting a losing battle. He walked towards her, hitting her with his no-nonsense soap, sweat and mint gum scent, and eyed her suspiciously. "I'm no' sure if ye and Geillis living under the same roof is such a braw idea. She's bound to teach ye something I won't approve of." Pulling her by the waist, he drew her against him and pressed their foreheads together. Everything narrowed down to him, and up close, he studied her, with his soul searching blue.
"So this is what entails having a boyfriend...listening to you grumble and you trying to change my mind by looking at me like that," she whispered, in an amused tone, as she looped her arms around his neck. Four days on and she was still under Jamie's six-pack hypnosis. "Maybe you can enlighten me further what it's going to mean for me having a boyfriend as I have no idea what else to expect."
The last few days of them being together, have flown by in a hazy blur, their days and nights spent making love, having conversations until early hours in the morning and hiding from the world in Jamie's house. It was as if they're making up for the six years they were apart and making memories for the eventual indefinite separation. Claire wanted to hold on to these moments. Life moves fast, and people and opportunities can be snatched away in the space of a heartbeat, just like her parents and uncle Lamb. When happiness presented itself, she didn't want to take it for granted, and she intended to embrace it fully. 
His breath gusting into her neck, he lifted her up in a sudden swift move and carried her to the kitchen. Pushing aside papers and books, he gently set her on the island worktop and edged himself between her legs. " yer boyfriend, ye can bank on me being overprotective. I want to make sure that ye're safe, so while I'm away I'll be checking up on you...a lot. I would want to know every detail of how ye spent yer day. And when ye're not with me, I will miss ye like hell, and when ye are with me, I will not be able to keep my hands of ye. There will be a lot of kissing and whispering in yer all sorts of naughty stuff."
"Naughty stuff, huh?" she leaned back to take a better look at him, one eyebrow arched. "What kind of naughty stuff, please do tell. I'm intrigued."
"Do ye really want to know? Ye blush so easily, and Willie and Geillis will be coming through that door any minute now." He pointed a chin toward the doorway. "They will take one look at ye, and they will know, I've been up to no good," he warned, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Go on, humour me," Claire cajoled playfully, tugging his hair at the nape of his neck.
Grabbing her buttocks with his large hands, he pressed her closer to him before taking a bite of her earlobe. "I want to fuck you into next Christmas, right now and right here," he said in a low voice against her ears.
Sure enough, red fluttered across Claire's face, choking on the breath she held. "Jamie!" she gasped. "You filth-spewing horny man!"
"I did warn ye, Sassenach. And speaking of filth, ye should hear yersel' while in the throes of can cuss like a..." he chuckled as he tried to avoid the onslaught of Claire's slaps.
Claire suddenly leaned forward for a kiss, stifling whatever next words he was about to say, making him laugh all the more against her lips. The way Jamie talked was turning her on like The Blackpool Illumination, and there was still much to be done in their rented house. "Alright, that's enough filth for one day," she stated vehemently, fanning her red cheeks with both hands, before pushing him away.
"Hang on a minute, we're not done here yet!" Jamie grabbed both her wrists before she could jump off the island worktop. "Ye haven't said anything yet... what is it going to mean to mean for me?" he asked between soft bites of her neck. "Having a girlfriend."
Damn those lips.  "Mmmm, it's quite simple really, Jamie me' lad," she whispered, mimicking his accent, unable to subdue a smile as Jamie caught her lower lip between his teeth. "It means this lass wishes ye to love her forever."
"It's a given, Sassenach," he muttered hoarsely against her neck, as his one hand reached for his back pocket.
Before Claire knew what was happening, Jamie raised his phone and snapped a photo of them, Claire looking dead straight into the camera while Jamie's lips were planted on her cheeks.
Jamie and Willie drove in silence to the airport, preoccupied with their own thoughts. Usually, the two brothers would have had plenty to discuss like having a friendly argument about the latest game of Rugby Union or the football results on the Scottish Premiership. Or maybe the menu plans for the upcoming re-opening of  The Fraser Manor Inn . However, this morning was different. There was a strain in the air even if nothing was spoken between them. And Jamie was fairly sure, he might have an idea the reason behind Willie's silent treatment.
Earlier, after saying goodbye to Claire and urging her to go back to sleep, he hastily sent a message to Annalise to let her know he was on his way.  Be there soon,  Jamie wrote. Re-reading it on their way to the airport, it looked impersonal compared to her reply, letting him know how relieved she was that he was coming, and how much she had missed him. He felt like a cad. This was his ex-girlfriend who was terminally ill for Christ sake.
It had been him who broke up their relationship when he found out Claire was coming back to Lallybroch to stay for good. Though he felt guilty, he knew it was the right thing as his heart was never into Annalise. It had always been Claire. His Claire.
When they eventually reached the airport, Jamie remained in his seat, trying to string sentences he wished to say to his brother. He didn't want to leave knowing there was an unspoken tension between them, and he wasn't even sure if the strain had anything to do with Claire. Maybe he was misreading him, he thought. "Keep an eye on Claire for me will ye," Jamie finally said.
Willie cleared his throat, his tight smile clearly meant to reassure. "That goes without saying, lad."
Jamie knew there was this mammoth elephant in the room, and he wanted it off his chest. They haven't really spoken like they used to since Claire's revelation of their relationship in front of the family. "I heard yer conversation with Claire that night on the steps." Jamie looked at Willie, who acknowledged him with a nod that he knew what was meant. "I have nothing to be worried about have I, while I'm away?"
His brother's head snapped in his direction, the meaning of Jamie's question not lost on him. "What do ye take me for?"
"Just laying out the cards on the table, so we're both clear..."
Willie let out a big sigh, and Jamie wasn't sure if it was a sign of resignation or annoyance. "I'll watch over Claire, Jamie. Ye can rest assured I have her best interest at heart but mind ye, if she's hurt, I'll be there for her. And I don't need yer permission for that."
"Since when did ye care about what she feels?"
"I've always cared about her..."
"For fuck sake, Willie, ye ken fine what I meant..." Jamie interrupted impatiently, sucking in deep breaths to curb his exasperation.
Shaking his head, Willie gave him a pained laugh. "Ever since her first year away from home. I visited her in Switzerland while she was in school," he revealed.
Jamie was dumbfounded.  That long?  Of course, he knew Willie visited Claire when he was working in Italy. He wasn't that far from her school. In fact, they were literally across the border from one another, about an hour and a half train ride away. Jamie hadn't given it much thought as he had put down his brother's visitation as an excuse to ski and Claire lived in a village of a ski resort. "I never knew..."
"What was there to know...there was nothing. Claire missed ye, ye know. Why didn't ye visit her?" Willie's eyebrows lifted when Jamie didn't answer immediately.
"Ah...I thought she had this thing for Frank. Ye must have known I have always been in love with her and ye cannae judge me for staying away. But we talked a lot over the years, and if I had an inkling back then what she truly felt for me, my days off would have been spent in Switzerland...and there would have been no Annalise in my life," Jamie answered, feeling a sudden twinge of guilt at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's name. He couldn't even remember how he came to be with Annalise as he made a mental futile attempt to search his memories for answers.
"She has a drinking problem, Jamie. Did ye know that?" Willie confessed out of the blue, taking Jamie by surprise.
"Drinking problem? What do ye mean she has a drinking problem?"  Christ...more revelations.   Why is he telling me this now when I'm about to leave for France in an hour? Was there something I missed over the last six years?
"I'm not sure, but I intend to find out. Call it a hunch or whatever. I've caught Claire twice downing a shot of two from the drinks' cabinet quite early in the day. She might be a master in pretending she is fine, but she doesn't fool me. She's a terrible liar." Willie paused, swallowing hard before resuming. "I might be wrong, but I think she drinks to cope."
"Cope??" Jamie looked at his watch, and he knew he was running late. "Christ's probably nothing. We're young, and it's normal. Almost every one our age drink excessively. It will soon peter out," Jamie explained, trying to sound unfazed, but why does he have a feeling there was more to what Willie was saying. And why does the image of Claire sneaking a drink, on the night before they went for Italian dinner on their "threesome dates," suddenly seem so vivid?
Sensing the conflict in Jamie, Willie softened his tone. "Go now, Jamie. Ye have a plane to catch. I promise to look out for Claire, and I promise I only have honourable intentions towards her. Ye're my brother, first and foremost and I have no plans jeopardising our relationship...unless ye start supporting the Rangers Football Team," he joked, to lighten the mood before continuing in a more serious note. "Sort out what ye need to sort out in France as quickly as possible and come back. I need ye in the kitchen for the re-opening. I'll keep ye posted on Claire, OK?"
After a minute of contemplation, Jamie turned to Willie and nodded. "Aye, I will be back as soon as I can." 
Before Jamie could get out of the car, Willie pulled him into a hug before their arms descended into a macho back slapping. "Take care, wee brother," he whispered gruffly. "Come back soon."
Jamie was surprised to find out that he still had the keys to Annalise's apartment. She reminded him when he called to inform her of his flight details over the phone. Their split had been so amicable, that she had probably forgotten to ask for her keys back. In a way, it was a relief for Jamie that he could let himself into her home, being uncertain if Annalise was too ill to open the door when he arrived. Apprehensive of what to expect when he finally sees his ex, he had been racking his brains on the way from the airport, what awaited him and what it would mean if the baby she was carrying was his. Jamie was sure he had always been careful when it came to his past relationships, and it troubled him that Claire had to find out the predicament he was in, so early in their relationship.
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath before he slipped the key to Annalise's door and pushed it open. He hadn't bothered knocking as he knew he was expected.
"'s me..." he said softly, in case she had fallen asleep. Although it was only late afternoon, he knew from stories he heard of cancer patients, they tend to tire quickly. So he was surprised when the voice that answered him back sounded lucid and clear.
"Jamie, in here," she replied. The sound came from the living room. Knowing his way in, he left his travelling bag by the doorway and made his way through, a sense of familiarity engulfing him. It wasn't too long ago when he would spend nights here after working late instead of going to his own apartment.
He found her sat on an armchair next to the French balcony window, and her seat was facing the sun. She stood up as soon as he walked in and he was shocked to see her mane of blonde hair gone, and its place was a faint fuzz visible only in the sunlight. It seemed she lost a bit of weight, but otherwise, Annalise looked strong and healthy. Without hesitation, she went to him, her arms encircling his waist as she laid her head on his chest. " Dieu merci!   I'm so grateful you could come," she whispered against him.
Finding the embrace too intimate, Jamie pulled away too abruptly but held her by the shoulders. "Christ Annalise, yer beautiful hair..."
"I know," she replied casually before turning away from him to sit. "It's the side effects of chemotherapy."
"Chemotherapy??" Jamie's eyes wandered down to her belly, and he could see there was a small bump. "Isn't chemo harmful to the baby?"
"It is harmful to the fetus, Jamie, especially during the first trimester. That is why the doctors waited until I was in my second trimester before administering the chemo drug, which should be safe enough at this stage. God willing, and hopefully, the baby will make it to 38th week, when it is deemed safe for it to be born," she explained calmly, revealing a flicker of fear in her eyes and then it was gone before he could blink.
Jamie ran one hand up and down his face, trying to absorb what Annalise was telling him. He pulled out a seat from the dining area and sat. "And how about the..." He wanted to say her one-night stand but thought it was highly inappropriate. "...the other guy, where is he?"
"Oh, yes...the other guy..." she started, looking embarrassed. "Some random guy I met in the bar and...oh God, oh God, I don't even know his name. It just happened...and we had plenty to drink." She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing. "I'm so sorry, Jamie, for all this. You're the only person I have now, and I have no one..." When Jamie remained silent, she continued. "And I'm grateful to your sister for setting up a crowdfunding page for me. She tagged you on Facebook so that I could see it."
"My sister? Jenny?"
"No. It was Claire. I've added her as a friend, so I could thank her. You talked about her a lot when we were together, and you were right...she is special," she recalled, a soft smile forming her lips.
"But she's not my..."
"Wait, let me finish," she interrupted. "I truly appreciate Claire's efforts, but they don't matter anymore. I am dying, Jamie and I'm hoping to hold on until the baby is born. I reached out to you because there is a possibility...a possibility the baby could be yours, even if that possibility is minuscule. I only have two wishes before I go."
Jamie straightened up from his chair, bracing himself for whatever was coming next. He tried to relax, but there was an uncomfortable tug in his chest, so he nodded instead, signalling her to resume.
"You don't have to fulfil those wishes, Jamie," she said quietly, sensing his discomfort. "I might not be the love of your life, but you are a good man. I sensed that when we were together. And you have great family support...I recognised that from all the stories you've told me. My first wish is...I don't want this baby to go to an orphanage. Whether the baby is yours or not, if you wish to raise it or not, can you please make sure the baby goes to a loving family. I don't want my baby to go through what I went through as an orphan. I wish a loving family for my baby. Call it my parting gift for my unborn's the least I could do."
Jamie understood what Annalise was saying. Like Claire, Annalise was orphaned at a very young age. She had spoken very little of her adoptive parents, and the only explanation she offered was that they were abusive to her while living with them. As soon as she was old enough to fend for herself, she left her childhood home, never to return nor make contact again.
"I will see what I could do," he responded, trying to decipher her expressions. It had always been hard to read Annalise. It seemed she wore that same mask of calmness no matter what fate threw at her. Unlike Claire, who was an open book; pain, love, joy, dread - whatever she was feeling, it was there for him to see. Jamie wished he could tear away that mask, even for a flitting moment, so he could see what Annalise was thinking. "And what's yer other wish?"
She gazed out the window before turning to face him, blue eyes on blue. "Jamie, I don't have a year to live, and I will never know what it's like to have a family. I mean... a proper, loving family. I will never have that," she explained, and for the first time, her eyes started to fill with tears. "For the short period that I have left, I want to be a wife and know what it's like to be married. So, Jamie Fraser, for my second wish...I want to ask you...will you be my husband, until death takes hold of me? I don't want to die alone."
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riversforum · 6 months ago
From Daisy Lowe to Anais Gallagher, these wildchilds know how to steal the limelight from their old man - WHEN the daughters of the famous pose for racy photoshoots, what do their dads think? Chloe Madeley – Sun columnist and daughter of TV host Richard – is just the person to ask, having been in that position herself. InstagramChloe Madeley praises kids of well-known parents who have cut the apron strings by doing some grown-up snaps After 20-year-old Anais Gallagher, daughter of fiery rocker Noel, revealed pictures in her undies, and admitted her dad didn’t know, Chloe tells of her experience and praises other children of well-known parents, from Daisy Lowe to Iris Law, who have chosen to cut the apron strings by doing some very grown-up pictures. Chloe Madeley Not known, clear with picture deskChloe was just 19 when she did her first photoshoot, but her parents laid out ground rules DOE-eyed, lithe of limb and looking bang on trend in bondage lingerie, there’s no doubt that Anais Gallagher looks absolutely gorgeous in her latest lingerie shoot. But with her admission that she hasn’t told her dad about the racy shoot yet, it raised the question — just what would Oasis rocker Noel make of her saucy snaps? I bet he is bursting with pride at his beautiful daughter. He’ll also be keen to protect her and make sure that everything she does is on her own terms, just as my dad — TV’s Richard Madeley of Richard and Judy — did for me. I was just 19 when I did my first photoshoot, for FHM magazine. I was so thrilled I’d been asked to do it that when I put it to my parents, I all but begged them. Rex FeaturesChloe, with her father TV’s Richard Madeley, is happy showing some skin as long as she is in control and comfortable ‘Perfectly happy with showing skin’ They found the whole thing wildly entertaining, but I do remember there were some (fairly obvious) ground rules — don’t get sucked into wearing anything you are uncomfortable in, make sure you have full photo approval, take your friends with you and tell them to play devil’s advocate at all times. All of these rules were designed to make me feel comfortable, in control, and to think before agreeing to anything. They were to protect me. To be honest, the shoots I do now show far more skin than the FHM shoot I did. But given that I now work in health and fitness, having skin on show is more of a by-product than an end in itself. And I’m perfectly happy with showing skin, I make a point of promoting body confidence amongst women. It’s a weird balance, remembering that the sole reason you are in front of a camera is because of your parents, but also presenting the image you choose to present, and not necessarily the image that is expected of you. Indeed it’s something of a rite of passage for the children of famous people — like the beautiful women on these pages — to shock a little as they step out on their own. But when a young woman such as Anais chooses to pose confidently in her lingerie, she’s telling the world she’s no longer the child who has grown up in their parents’ shadow — she’s her own woman now. And that’s something worth celebrating. Daisy Lowe Agent ProvocateurDaisy Lowe, 31, posed nude for Playboy in 2011 DAISY’S precocious modelling career was already underway when rock singer Gavin Rossdale took a paternity test confirming he was her father when she was 15. Following in designer mum Pearl Lowe’s fashionista footsteps, Daisy, 31, has shot for Chanel, Burberry and Vivienne Westwood. In 2011 she posed nude for Playboy. She has said: “I think the female form is to be celebrated.” Vantage NewsDaisy, with her father Gavin Rossdale, thinks the ‘female form is to be celebrated’ Anais Gallagher BluebellaAnais Gallagher, 20, posed in mesh lingerie in her latest shoots NOEL Gallagher’s 20-year-old daughter by first wife Meg Mathews wore mesh lingerie in her latest shots. After they were published, she said: “I haven’t told my dad yet. This will be the first time he has seen them, but he is very open about what I do.” Getty - ContributorNoel Gallagher’s daughter said ‘he is very open about what I do’ Rosanna Davison Refer to CaptionRosanna Davison, 36, posed naked for Playboy in 2012 THE daughter of singer Chris De Burgh became the first Irish Miss World in 2003, then ditched her squeaky-clean image to do a naked shoot for Playboy Germany in 2012. But Rosanna, 36, says her dad was all for it, rattling off names of previous Playboy models such as Cindy Crawford and Marilyn Monroe. She said: “He was like, ‘Go for it, it didn’t do any of these women any harm’.” Getty - ContributorChris De Burgh’s daughter admitted her father told her ‘go for it’ Clara McGregor InstagramClara McGregor, 24, posed for the cover of Playboy in 2018 STAR Wars actor Ewan McGregor realised his daughter was getting a different kind of exposure from his own when she posed naked on the cover of Playboy in 2018. Model Clara, 24, whose mum is film production designer Eve Mavrakis, told the magazine she feels sexiest when wearing her “favourite pair of mom jeans” and her true ambition was to become an actor like her dad. Getty Images - GettyStar Wars’ Ewan McGregor’s daughter revealed she would rather become an actress like her dad Iris Law Iris Law, 19, poses in sizzling bikini snaps and is already an ambassador for Bulgari Most read in Celebrity SCHO WAY Cannabis & an older woman, I was meant to be be squeaky clean, says Phil Schofield RACY LACEY Love Island's Georgia Harrison displays results of her £6k boob job in lingerie CAMERA, ACTION! Peter Andre takes a vicious beating from a gang on the set of his new movie STAR'S CELTS JOY Rod Stewart in tears as Celtic fans including Compston sing Hold the Line GLOW UP Christine McGuinness looks sensational in a low-cut bodysuit GYM BUNNIES Strictly's Maisie Smith shows off muscles with lookalike mum in gym snap JUDE LAW’S little girl may only be 19, but she already looks like a model daughter, having already been a brand ambassador for Italian firm Bulgari and posing for sizzling bikini snaps on sun-kissed luxury holiday locations. But Iris, whose mum is Sadie Frost, says her drive did not come from her parents, adding: “They weren’t rock ’n’ roll when I was growing up, they were just my parents.” Rex FeaturesJude Law’s daughter said of her parents ‘They weren’t rock ’n’ roll when I was growing up, they were just my parents’ GOT a story? RING The Sun on 0207 782 4104 or WHATSAPP on 07423720250 or EMAIL
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nawalabdirashid2005 · 6 months ago
My stomach growled at me. I wish i had some money in my pocket. It is ironic to me for even say pocket when mine barely even meets the characteristics of one. it was just a bare string of thread holding the ripped holes together.  Nevertheless, I  still rummaged threw it like a thief rummaging for valuables. Nothing.
I smelt a mouth-watering aroma. My body reacted to this by secreting saliva .The poor thing! It really thinks i was about to eat food.All i  could do was swish  the saliva around  in my mouth hydrating the dry patches on my tongue . I guess it was extremely malnourished so any chance it could smell food of any kind it was preparing  for me to get it and eat it. The big question is should I?
I whizzed through the kitchen’s door as i heard large shoes clunking behind me at a fast pace.
‘‘You think you can do a scarper again!’’ Bellowed the obese shop owner.
God had heard my prayers. The oversized shop owner had become worn out.  As i  heard him taking large deep breaths not far away.His face looked like a freshly picked tomato with all of the redness concentrated  on the apples of his cheeks.
‘‘ i’ll catch you next time you little imp from hell !’‘ he said with a hoarse voice as he was still taking in deep breaths. I was suprised he hadnt died or had his first heart attack with all that layers of of skin taking a toll on his body.
A  smile of joy popped up on my face running from ear to ear.I jumped up and down with glee. My fiery red hair bobbed up and down like children playing bobbing apples bobbing their heads in and out of the water. I held the juicy roast beef in my hand with the succulent juice running between my bony stick fingers. I stopped and took a huge sigh of relief while intenesly sucking the mouth watering juice out of the meat like a vampire sucking the blood out of its prey.
I said to myself i get to live just one another day. While feasting on my stolen meat.
‘‘ Corsen Corsen!’‘
i did a full turn. Twisting my stick like neck looking around for the person who called me. Unfortunately, for my suprise the sound echoed from an eerie alleyway. I knew what this meant.
You see everyone has their own secrets. Secrets hidden deep down in their soul which they dont utter to a single living being.I have done acts which are horrible.Not even my so called ‘parents’ know about it.I have  dark unspeakable secrets.Forbidden secrets that i have done to merely get by. 
Yes, i know what is running through your mind. I mean i had to find money for food somehow. i wasnt proud of it but i still did it anyways. luckily, i came to my senses and knew that i had dreams i wanted to persue and didnt want to land up in jail before i was eighteen.
As soon as i saw him literal smoke steamed out of my ears,my face turned crimson red. i didnt even think. i used my puny weak fist and puched right in the nose. His nose was already crooked and stuck out like a proud peacock but i think i went too far. Okay i know i went to far. i broke his nose.
Blood gushed out of his nose like a flowing tap. The blood clotted around his nose. I know,I know your probably thinking why i did such an act. Well, i did mention that i did unspeakable acts but this case was different.
I was a mere child with childish girly thoughts. Back then my father wasnt a drunkard and my mother hadnt died. i was ten. He was fifteen. He grabbed the ribbon of my pink frock and grabbed me closer and close to his lips. I thought he was giving me a hug.  He grabbed the zip of my dress, untied it. He removed his trousers and.... well i think you are mature enough to know what happened.
I will never forget the day he forced himself upon me. I was scarred for life. Every time i meet him i have the urge to get a knife, slit his wrists,tongue and finally stab him right in the heart.
So. he really thinks after all those years i was going to run into his arms. Kiss him passionately and give him a hug. Ha! Jokes on him.
‘‘You cant try and freeze me and run away’‘ He said while wiping the dried up clotted blood with his filthy long sleeved shirt.
Though he was literally skin and bone he was in fact quite strong for someone who barely eats and drinks beer day in day out.
Before i could even say Merlins wand he grabbed my skinny wrist and forced my to look him in the eyes. A girl could easily get lost in those emerald green eyes but my eyes immediately started watering due to the alcoholic smell reeking out of his mouth and the fact that he smelt like he hadnt bathed in centuries.
‘‘ I dont know why but there is something about you that attracts me to you’‘ ‘‘ i always feel the urge to capture you and make you mine’‘.
He gave me a look.  A look that made me heart stop beating and made my body freeze while peeing in myself as i was petrified.
‘‘Let me go you pedophile’‘ i said while kicking him in the shins grabbing my wrist using my free left hand trying to grab his hand to let go of my right hand.
I felt a drip of sweat trickling down my back. He threw me to the wall, he leaned his body closer to mine, and his face was hovering in front of mine.
I used my left hand and shot sharp icicles into his chest giving me enough time to flee.
‘‘ I’ll catch you Corsen, I’ll catch you and i promise when i do i’ll never let you go you’ll be mine forever’‘ While wheezing blood and trying to take a deep breath.
I just hope i had’nt made a big mistake.
I didnt care if my underwear could be seen while i was running down the street at this point i just wish mens obsession with me could just stop.
You see i am a freak. I can do freakish things and i look like i freak.My eyes are far away from my nose. My lips are waaaayyy below my nose thus making me a target for kids to bully . I have been in and out of foster homes since i was 10. Back then my father was drunk 24/7 and my mom didnt have stage 2 breast cancer. 
It has’nt been easy since my mothers passing. My dad still  doesnt want to acknowledge the fact that she is gone and isn’t coming back. He then decided to take everything out on me. He used to whip me  till my voice when hoarse and i ended up passing out and couldnt tell if i was dreaming or dead.
Teachers at school noticed my whip marks and bruises even though i tried covering it up with oversized hoodies and sweatpants. They immediately called child protective services thus my relationship with foster families began. All my foster fathers ended up being creepos and used to watch me get changed and worst of all took advantage of the fact that i was a skinny,weak,puny kid and couldnt do anything to defend myself.
Dammit! The landlords sent another sweet little eviction letter. I quickly skimmed through it to see how much time i had until i was kicked out of this mangy apartment. Seven days! There was no way i was going to be able to get 700 dollars by the end of this week. I guess i had to just say goodbye to this mangy little apartment. Ugh! I actually was tearing up this was my first apartment after i got emancipated.
I just decided to  just throw on an oversized t-shirt and shorts and call it a night. Just when i opened the door of my room an eerie sound schoed from down the hallway. 
‘‘Hello Hello is Corsen here?’‘
Dammit! It’s the frickin landlord coming to evict me but  the letter said till next week. I was utterly confused. I hopped out of my bed,slipped on my mucky bunny slippers from salvation army and decided to take my wooden hairbrush with me just in case it was a murderer or kidnapper or somethin’. Hey! I wasnt about to get kidnapped and my kidneys sold online okay?
‘‘Is anyone here?’‘ ‘‘Come out and i won’t hurt you’‘ i said with a shaky voice. I was literally peeing in my underwear.
I heard heavy breathing and large footsteps. I suddenly remebered that there was nothing to fear as i have taken a few karate classes here and there.
AAAH! ‘’What in lords name,what are you doing here?’’
He looked like an angel sent from heaven. He smelt of pine cones and fresh earth after a springs rain.
‘‘ Ah so you must be Corsen,nice to meet you’‘ he said while having a enormous smile running ear to ear.
‘‘ Umm.... this is an invasion of private property, you know i can sue right?’‘
He chuckled so hard that his hair bobbled up and down. His silver hair was a kind of silver that is out of this world. Literally it was shiny sleek and smooth it looked out of this universe. He wore a green tunic with a brown belt and a green shoes on. Like hello the 1900s is calling and they want there clothes back.
‘‘ Well its a shocker i havent seen you since you were a baby and you still have the wild red mane of hair that you used to have, well time flies i guess’‘. he murmured under his breath with a little smirk on his face.
‘‘Ummm.. number one how do you know me and number two its kinda creepy that you saw me when i was a baby when i literally have no idea who you are’‘.
‘‘ i think you should lead me to the living room we have many things to discuss’‘ he hurriedly sat down making himslef comortable on the mouldy sofa set.
Hey! I wasnt made out of money and if my apartment had a fridge, televison and a sofa i was a happy camper.
‘‘So why are you here?’‘
‘‘Oh yes i was sent by Albus Dumbledore to tell you that you have got into Hogwarts’‘ he said with an serious look on his face.
I burst out into tears of laughter.Like does he really think i was stupid.Out of all the lies he could have told me, Hogwarts,like really.I guess he was just another social care worker trying to find ways to get me to come back.But i am not that that daft okay.
‘‘Whats so funny?’‘ while giving me  stern look.
‘‘Ummm.... you know Hogwarts doesnt exist right?’‘ ‘‘It was just a story J.K Rowling wrote for entertainment and imagination.
‘‘You know the whole magical realm has been in contact with the human realm for centuries now’‘. ‘‘The story of J.K Rowling or whatever her name was was half-truths’‘. ‘‘This Harry Potter bot your talking about was all just made up’‘.’‘But the sorting hat,Albus Dumbledore,Severus Snape and some othes are real’‘.
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aboutthatmelancholystorm · 6 months ago
Kloktober, Oct. 8th: Prophecy or Vacation Time
Waited till the last minute for this one, because I couldn’t decide which one to do  lmao. Since I ruined their vacation in a previous prompt, I decided to try Vacation Time again to see what I could come up with. 
Synopsis: Charles is overworked, we all know that. Dethklok, however? Not as aware. Not even if a doctor tells them, and advises them that this should change, at least temporarily. Burning questions asked and answered in this fic: Can they give Charles a decent vacation? Do they pay taxes? What is a CFO even? 
TW for brief mentions of mental health re: Charles. 
My love to all who read/like/reblog!
“I’m telling you he’ll have a breakdown,” the doctor said. 
“So...he’s fine,” Nathan said. 
“No...I specifically said he is not fine,” the doctor replied. 
“Hes can keeps beings the CFOs?” Skwisgaar asked. 
“He doesn’t need to quit,” the doctor said. “He just needs a break. A good few weeks to a month of a vacation-” 
“A month?!” Pickles shouted. “And what the hell do we do for a month?” 
“Whatever you normally do?” the doctor asked, puzzled. 
“I mean...wes don’t wants him to die,” Toki said. “Right?” 
Nathan nodded. “That would suck.” 
“Haves to pays for a funerals,” Skwisgaar said.
“Do our own taxes,” Pickles moaned.
“ we pay taxes?” Nathan asked softly. 
“Everyone pays taxes,” the doctor answered.
“This ams a privates conversations!” Toki cried. “Who even ams yous?!” 
“I...I’m just gonna leave my bill on Mr. Offdensen’s desk,” the doctor said. “And make sure he’s set in his room, and understands that if he keeps working, it will be against all medical advice.” 
“Does whats you must!” Skwisgaar shouted. “Just goes!” 
“So what do we do?” Pickles whined nervously after the doctor left. “We can’t go without a CFO that long, can we?” 
“...reminds me what ams a CFO again?” Toki asked.
“Money guy,” Nathan replied. 
“And that means?” 
Nathan shrugged. “Taxes, apparently. Who fuckin’ knew, right?” 
“Maybes wes give hims a week or twos,” Skwisgaar said. “And then if hes ams better, greats. If nots...wes figures it out then.” 
“Yeah, like in pieces,” Nathan said. “So it doesn’t feel like he’s gone forever.” 
“Wheres does we send him?” Toki pondered. 
Murderface, who had been oddly quiet and observing, nodded. “I know what we do. We each pick a place to schend him, so he gets five weeks away. And it’sch like a present! Cuz we chose where he schould go!” 
“That’s such a good idea!” Pickles said. “Specially since we forgot to get him a birthday gift for the years? Give or take one?” 
“I gives hims a gift cards every year,” Skwisgaar said. “Yous ams just unthinkings assholes.” 
“What?” Pickles asked. “Since when?” 
“Since he first starteds!” Skwisgaar cried. “I haves a reminder on my calendars. It amn’ts hard.” 
“We’re off-topic!” Nathan growled. “We gotta decide where to send him...” 
“So, I’m being forced to go on vacation?” 
“Yeah,” Nathan replied. 
“And first I’m going to...Sweden?” 
“They wanteds to send you to an Ikeas,” Skwisgaar said. “I convinced thems this was better.” 
“Thank you,” Charles said. “And then-” 
“Florida!” Nathan cheered. “You’re welcome.” 
“Neat,” Charles said, not a hint of emotion in his voice. “Then I go to...New York?” 
“Yeah!” Pickles said. “Good food, good booze, lots of shit to do! Perfect.” 
“I’m giving you the best one,” Murderface said. “A ticket to North Dakota, to Medora! I mean, you’re gonna get driven out there, they don’t have an airport. Rustic, prairie air! They even got a musical, just like a big city!” 
“Uh huh,” Charles nodded. “Have you ever been?” 
“Nah,” Murderface replied. “Too small a place for me.” 
“I gives yous nots a ticket,” Toki said softly, almost sounding nervous. “Buts moneys. So yous can books a ticket wherevers you ams wanting for your last weeks away. I couldn’t thinks of a place to sends you, ams sorry.” 
That stopped him cold. “That’s...perfectly okay, Toki. Thank you.” 
“Bes okay,” Toki said, and wrapped him in a hug. “Have a goods time.” 
“Don’t get too drunk!” Pickles added. 
“Fucks some people, have funs with it,” Skwisgaar smiled. 
“If you get the chance to like, go fishing...way more fun than you’d think,” Nathan said. 
“Eat schome decent food!” Murderface scolded. “Scho damn skinny, livin’ on what? Adderall and coffee and cocaine? Have a sandwich or schomething.” 
“I most of that,” Charles smiled. The odd heavy fog that had settled over him for the past year wasn’t gone, but he could see a bit through it, in the moment. “Thank you all. Honestly. I know the klokateers will look after you while I’m away, but I appreciate your willingness to let me do this.” 
“Plane is waitin’ for ya,” Pickles sniffled. “Get goin’, chief.” 
He could see the tears in their eyes, and nodded. “See you all in five weeks.” 
He didn’t expect it, but they followed him out, and waved at his plane as he flew away. 
There had been worries in his mind, about coming back after this vacation. If he could still do the job. 
But he would come back, and do his best. For them, and the care that they apparently did have for him, somewhere deep in their hearts. 
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ncityskz · 9 months ago
Stray Kids High School AU
"I just don't see the why he doesn't ever notice me! I am a whole snack." Felix rolled his eyes at the rambling of his best friend, Jisung. He was complaining about his crush 'never' noticing him. Although, Felix knew this wasn't true. He always caught the older sneaking peeks at his best friend. He just thought it be best for them to figure it out on their own.
Felix sighed and took another bite of his apple. Lunch seemed to be taking a rather long time today. He glanced at the clock and saw they still had 25 minutes before their next class.
"I'll be right back. Gotta pee." Jisung made a disgusted face and mumbled a 'TMI'. Felix laughed lightly, grabbed his bag and went towards the restrooms.
As he entered he saw a blonde haired, rather attractive, male leaning against the wall. Felix awkwardly made eye contact and gave a s smile. The unknown male just rolled his eyes and hugged. 'Tough crowd' Felix thought to himself. He entweder a Stall thinking it'd be better than the urinal since 'grumpy bathroom guy' was still just standing there. He did his business and exited the stall. The light haired male was still standing there.
Felix went towards the sinks and washed his hands. Before he could leave he felt a strong hand grasp his arm. He gasped slightly and quickly turned towards the culprit. He was met with a smirk on the 'grumpy bathroom guys' face.
"Can I help you?" Felix said with slight attitude. He just wanted to go and finish his lunch. The blonde guy raised his eyebrows at Felix's tone.
"Feisty are we?" Felix rolled his eyes and pulled his arm away from the stranger.
"Stranger danger." Felix mumbled and started towards the door again. He opened it only a little before it was slammed shut again. Felix turned towards the guy with wide eyes.
"I don't know who you think you are-"
"I'm Chan." The stranger now known as Chan interrupted Felix. Felix squinted his eyes at him.
"I don't care." He said and tried to leave again, only to be turned back around by Chan.
"What's your name?" Chan asked keeping Felix between his arms against the door.
"Pfft wouldn't you like to know. You could be some serial killer! Or a kidnapper! Or a rap-" before Felix could get out his other accusation he was interrupted yet again.
"I'm just a high scho student like you! I would never murder or kidnap anyone!" He exclaimed.
"I just wanted to know your name." He said with a slight saddened look. It made Felix feel a little bit guilty. He has always been very cautious around new people. "Felix." He sighed. Chan's head popped up and he looked at him.
"Felix. Hmmm a very pretty name." He smiles at Felix.
"Hm thanks. Can I go now?" Chan squinted his eyes slightly and lifted his arms away from Felix.
"See you around." Chan smirked and Felix ran out of the bathroom like his life depended on it.
////few days later////
After their little encounter in the school bathroom, Felix started to notice Chan a lot around school. There was something about him that just made Felix want to look at him.
Felix was sitting in his Chemistry class dozing off when the teacher clapped her hands really loud, causing poor Felix to jump in his seat. Chan chuckled under his breath.
"We have a new seating arrangement!!" The teacher said all to excitedly.
Every one grabbed their stuff and waited to be seated.
"Okay and here will be... Felix and Chan." Felix widened his eyes slightly and looked around the room to find Chan. He just had a smug smirk across his faces which made Felix Tilt his head to the side.
Little did Felix know that Chan practically begged the teacher to seat them next to each other. After major convincing she finally agreed.
The two teenagers sat next to each other in the very back of the class.
"Nice go see you again, Felix." The way Chan whispered his name sent shivers down his spine. He couldn't help but feel aroused. He gulped slightly and answered him, "likewise." He kept it simple because when didn't want to show how the older made him feel.
Chan Just smirked and leaned back in his chair.
30 minutes past and there was still 30 more till the class ended. Felix sighed quietly already done with scho as a whole.
'Maybe I could just drop out? Ugh but who hires high school drop outs? I need a good education to get a good job.' Felix jumped and brought out of his thoughts when he felt a cold hand on his thigh. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Chan. Who just continued to stare at the teacher and didn't even give Felix a glance. He looked completely disinterested.
Felix pulled his thigh to try and get it out of Chan's grip. But Chan only tightened his grip on the you gets thigh. Felix gave up and looked back to the front, ignoring the feeling of Chan's hand in his thigh. That was until it started moving up.
Felix's breath hitched as China's veiny hand massages it's way up towards his privates. Felix desperately tries to get out of his grip but to no avail Chan's hand continued.
His breathing grew heavy as he anticipated what Chan would do. He bit his plump lip as he felt himself grow harder. The anticipation of it all really turned him on. Just as he was hoping to feel the pressure in his private area, the hand stopped at the top of his thigh. Felix gasped gaining the attention of a few surrounding students. He smiled and waved them off. They looked away not really giving it much thought.
Felix glared at Chan our of the corner of his eye. He was such a tease. Felix smirked when he got an idea.
He grabbed Chan's hand and places it right on top of his hard member.
It was then that Chan's eyes widened and a look of shock came over his face.
Felix smirked with victory and slowly started grinding up into Chan's hand.
Chan took a minutes to gain his composure but soon palmed his hand down on Felix's dick as well.
Felix gasped quietly, making sure to not let anyone hear what they were doing. Chan bit his lip, still looking forward.
He slowly unbuttoned Felix's jeans and pulled them down slightly, just so the tip of Felix's dick was free.
Felix let his head fall back and his eyes closed. Chan smeared the pre cum already leaking out of the tip over the rest of his shaft. He slipped his hand into Felix's pants and gripped his length.
Felix's breathing became ragged as Chan continued to jerk him off.
"Fuck." Felix softly moaned towards Chan and bucked his hips up subtly, wanting more.
"Shh." Chan quieted him and jerked him harder and faster. Felix was having a hard time keeping his composure.
"I need to cum." He whispered while looking around the filled classroom making sure no one was catching on to what they were doing.
"Cum for me." Felix's mourn hung open but no sound came out as white ropes painted Chan's skillful hands.
Chan continued to strike Felix's dick to milk him of his high. As Felix's breathing began to even out he looked at Chan, whom brought his cum covered hand to his lips and slowly sucked them clean.
Felix swore he could get hard again just from that sight alone. As he watched Chan suck his cum from his fingers he was startled by the bell ringing, signaling the class was over. Felix was still dazed and was slow to grab his stuff.
Chan smirked and stood up,
"You owe me." He winked and walked out of the classroom sporting a VERY prominent boner. Felix Just stared at the empty space still in shock at what just happened
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vuulpecula · 10 months ago
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@downpaths​​ inquired: “Hey, hey, stay with me, ok?” (from Scho)
helping my injured muse sentence starters | accepting
      For once in the past few months, the world turned nearly peaceful. An endless grey sky stretched above, dotted with darker promises of rain or snow. There was no noise. No mortar blasting in the distance, no heavy thud of bullets finding new homes inside those left abandoned, no black smoke engines rumbling over the devastated landscape. It was place of no danger, of no war, that beckoned for her to REMAIN.
      Gaze transfixed on the heavens overlooking them, lids pulled wide, she listened to the soundless nothingness as it continued to expand. Stretching thinner and thinner as a face obstructed her view. Lips speaking woulds she could not hear nor understand. He looked like he was PLEADING, desperation lighting up in the picturesque blue of his eyes. The halcyon bubble surrounding the earth burst. With a great heave of her own lungs, the world sucked itself back inside her skull. Ringing filling every space between her ears. "Что случилось,” Fox questioned, her voice cracking dryly against her throat. Everything spun back into HORRIFIC detail with each crushing blink her lids made.
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      “You are -- “ she amended, words shakier in her second tongue. Five bloody fingers hooked around the woolen material of his uniform, the fibers fuzzy in the bright light. The other five pressed into crushed earth, nails sinking where the dirt grew muddy, to aid in propping herself back up. DAZED, her thoughts came too slowly compared to the motions that blurred around them. Words fought their way up from lungs struggling to fill themselves with enough air, stumbling back across a tongue that tasted too much like COPPER. “ -- H-Hurt? You are hurt.” To Fox, whatever had happened to her was SIGNIFICANTLY less important than what might’ve happened to him.
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killsfor · 11 months ago
Adrian be like does ur wife suck ur dick as good as I do 💅
KLAJSDFG  scho: fellas is it gay if- adrian: yes.
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piercethechemicalzz · a year ago
hi you call me clod bc that’s my Internet persona from wattpad and im 16 and uhh I like barbie dolls, Melanie Martinez, Halsey, Ashnikko, Lana Del Rey, My Chemical Romance and Marina lol and umMm I haven’t been alive emotionally since the early 2000’s and I hate commitment and boys and myself uwu and I can be very clingy lmao-i watch alot of tik tok oh my lord and listen to music..sometimes I watch YouTube but not as much anymore. when it’s warmer out I go swing and blast my emo songs and usually a family member sneaks up and scares me so I’m always looking behind me lol. I have like a lot of mutual that I know irl but I only talk to like 2 on a daily or almost daily basis. one kinda sucks but I mean I do too and that’s why I don’t have friends lmao — no I’m just obnoxiously scared of social interaction. I hate online school which is what I do bc I got out of real school bc of my mental stability thsgdgd and it’s shitty but I’ll live ig that’s about it-I’m trying to get into danganronpa (sorry if I misspelled it) and I watch Ouran high scho host club over and over when I’m sad
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sugawalmartwobble · a year ago
just say it.
pairing: sugawara koushi x reader
request: Okay so if requests are open, I need some angst in my uneventful life rn I was thinking about maybe some unrequited love/feelings? Maybe for Suga or Daichi? 
- didn’t know if you meant one of them not returning the feelings or the reader not returning the feelings so i went with the one that hurt my soul more. 
warnings: angst, actual pain, this hits home for some reason
a/n: i’ve been off this site for literally like two months but i have an excuse. coronavirus be here and she’s setting up shop in my weak-ass body.
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damn, what a man.
5 years, 7 months and 16 days.
That’s how long I’ve been hopelessly in love with my friend and classmate Sugawara Koushi. I’ve known him since we were young and went to the same middle school (Nagamushi Junior High). I knew I was screwed when we moved into the house next door a month later, I was never good at making friends yet he seemed to want to befriend me. 
I didn’t stop him, of course. I was the new kid, no one ever wanted to be friends with the shy new kid. I was two grades below him too, which made it hard when he left for high school, taking his friends that became mine with him. But we never lost touch and I had every intention of going to Karasuno High too. 
When I became a first-year, everything was amazing. I remember my first day at high school and hearing my name being shouted loudly and echoing through the hallways and there they were; Koushi, Daichi and Asahi running at full-speed down the hall. I had met Daichi and Asahi two years ago and they became like brothers to me.
“[Y/N]!” Suga chuckled loudly a bright smile on his face. I rolled my eyes playfully and welcomed the hug and wrapped me in. He lifted me off my feet slightly, hugging my tighter and earning the attention of a lot of other first-years around us. 
“Hello Koushi, Hi Daichi and Asahi, it’s been a while,” I gave Daichi and Asahi quick hugs before drawing back to stand by Koushi.
“We wanted to welcome you to Karasuno,” Asahi replied happily.
“And tell you that if you need anything we sit outside the gym at lunch,” Daichi added, a serious tone in his voice. My face heated up at the thought of them coming to tell me that to take care of me. I nodded with a bright smile.
“Have a good first day, [Y/N], and don’t be afraid to talk to people,” Koushi teased, ruffling my hair. I swatted his hand away.
“Thank you guys, I’ll see you around hopefully,” I said with a gentle grin, the boys nodded in response before Asahi gave me a first pump and Koushi gave me one last hug before walking off. 
I was definitely the centre of everyone’s attention for the next twenty minutes, but they all seemed too afraid to talk to me. Classes started a few minutes after that and I thanked my lucky stars when the bell rang through the speakers and I had the option to run off like a lunatic. 
I’m very quiet at school, I sit next to the window and don’t talk much to anyone and only really speak when spoken to. And when I’m not thinking about the work at hand, I’m almost ashamed to say I’m thinking about Koushi. I try to push the feelings down but I can’t help but feel butterflies in my stomach when I see him and I know for a fact my face goes red or goosebumps rise on my skin. I feel silly sometimes but other times I really want him to like me back.
I’ve tried to convince myself he does, through the way he always checks on me or hugs me or just simply knows when I’m not okay. He took me under his wing in middle school and I can’t seem to shake the feelings I have for him. 
I have never told a soul about my feelings though, not even a hint to Daichi and Asahi, but I feel like Daichi knows. He knows a lot about a lot of people. So instead, I try my best to force it down and not get too close or show anything that could hurt me.
But deep down I know he probably doesn’t feel the same and if I ever want closure I’ll need to confess. 
‘come to the gym after school :)’
I read the text on my phone as soon as class ended. I threw my backpack over my shoulder and trekked toward the gym. I knew I would see Koushi again and for some reason, my nerves went haywire and I got anxious about meeting the rest of his volleyball team that I had heard so much about. 
I pushed the door to the school open and was met with a more secluded part of the school and a pathway that led to the gym. I could hear their shoes squeaking along the floor and the occasional yell from someone, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open and peeked inside. 
No one seemed to notice my head poking in until Koushi saw me and waved happily. I smiled and waved back before walking completely inside and standing awkwardly with my bag on my back and my textbooks in my hands.
“Take five everyone, including you Hinata,” Daichi ordered. The team responded with ‘yes, sir’ enthusiastically but a certain orange-haired boy seemed a little grumpy from what Daichi said. I giggled almost silently.
Koushi walked over to me with a drink bottle in hand and he was all sweaty, not that I was complaining but it was all I could look at. Koushi smiled.
“I’m glad you came, I wanted you to meet everyone,” Koushi gestured to the abundance of sweaty and energetic boys behind him. It had been a few weeks since school started and the boys' volleyball team had finally kicked off.
“I’d love too, only if I’m allowed to,” I raised a brow, Koushi smiled and tugged me over toward the groups of boys sitting down. 
“Guys, this is my best friend [Y/N] [L/N],” Koushi smiled, gesturing to me. I awkwardly waved with a small ‘hi’ following behind. 
“[Y/N] this is Kiyoko, I believe you’ve met once?” Koushi raised a brow at me.
“Yes, at the fundraiser last year,” I smiled politely at Kiyoko. Kiyoko gave me a gentle smile in return.
“This is Nishinoya, Tanaka, Ennoshita, Kinoshita and Narita, the second-years,” Koushi gestured to two of the most energetic and loud boys I have ever seen in my life. Ennoshita waved politely though. “Then Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are the first-years,” Hinata gave an energetic wave, Tsukishima rolled his eyes and Yamaguchi politely waved and said ‘nice to meet you’.
“Nice to meet you all, don’t let me get in the way of your practice,” I chuckled, trying my absolute best to seem out-going. 
“You wanna wait so we can walk home together?” Koushi asked. I nodded in reply and let them continue on with their practice. 
As the days turned to weeks turned to months, I was starting to really fit in with the volleyball team. Hinata and Kageyama made an effort to talk to me at lunch and I would even sit with Tsukki and Yamaguchi sometimes, given that I wasn’t fantastic at making friends. Yamaguchi and Tsukki were in my class as it was, so it was always nice to have someone to look to.
My feelings began to eat away at me and that’s when I knew something had to happen, I had to do something about it. The perfect opportunity presented itself when everyone decided to have a small party for fun and bonding, despite the team already getting along as it was.
Koushi invited me a few minutes after the details were finalised and Kiyoko and Yachi were happy to have me help out with the food and games. I didn’t hesitate to say yes and decided this would be the perfect time to tell him how I felt, it was definitely now or never.
When I arrived at Koushi’s house, I was greeted with a few members of the team and Kiyoko running around the kitchen frantically. Yamaguchi and I jumped into action almost immediately and began helping her sort through the snacks and the abundance of chicken nuggets in the oven. 
“Thank you guys so much, Koushi and Daichi are too busy with games and such,” Kiyoko said breathlessly.
“Don’t worry, Kiyoko. [Y/N] and I have got your back,” Yamaguchi smiled. I always thought Yamaguchi was very sweet when I first met him and he seemed to drag Tsukki along when he knew I didn’t have anyone to sit with, which made me feel a whole lot better about sucking at making friends. 
Everyone else arrived shortly after, bringing their own snacks and packing a bag incase Koushi decided to let everyone sleepover. I thoroughly enjoyed the games that they came up with and how competitive Kageyama got after a few losses. The time seemed to fly by but my nerves get growing and I knew I had to talk to Koushi alone at some point. 
“I know you like Sugawara”
“Huh?” the panic in my voice made my eyes blow wide. I spun around and was met with Daichi, standing there with his face completely neutral. “What? Huh? When did-? What!”
“Don’t play silly, [Y/N]. I just know,” Daichi chuckled. My face was redder than any red that ever existed. “Just talk to him.”
“But what if he stops being my best friend?” I muttered, staring at my feet. Daichi rolled his eyes and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Suga would never do that to you, and if he does like you back, you win your best friend and a boyfriend,” Daichi patted me on the back.
Just do it. What’s the worst that could happen? You have to move to Canada. Yeah, Canada’s nice this time of year.
“Koushi?” I tapped him on the shoulder gently. 
Oh no
“Everything okay, [Y/N]?” Koushi asked with a concerned expression. I nodded nervously.
“Can I talk to you inside?” I muttered. I wordlessly started walking inside and could feel Koushi following hesitantly behind me. I began to panic and my heart was beating all too fast for me to be okay with this.
“What’s up?” Koushi asked with his eyebrows furrowed. I twiddled with my thumbs and bit my lip furiously.
“I, uhm,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. Koushi stared down at my with his eyebrows still furrowed. I looked up into his beautiful honey-coloured eyes and took a deep breath.
You’ll be okay, no matter what happens.
“I, uhm, I really like you,” I breathed, my voice low and my nerves choking me. I opened my mouth again. “I’ve liked you since we were young and it's been bothering me since middle school and I just needed to let it out and tell you before it was too late—”
“Stop,” Koushi muttered. My gaze snapped up and I knew this was it, he didn’t feel the same way and he was going to pity me. His eyes were glassy when they finally met mine and he knew that I knew.
“That’s okay,” I managed to choke.
“I’m sorry,” he hung he head and I couldn’t stand in front of him anymore. So I tried to find a way out.
This is fucked.
“You’re an amazing person [Y/N] but you’re my—”
“Best friend, I know,” I finished for him, my emotions finally breaking and making me cry like an idiot in front of him. 
“Don’t cry,” he tried to touch my face but I pushed his hand away.
“Don’t— Please, don’t. It’s kind of hard not to cry Sugawara,” I knew he hated when I used his last name, it was immature but I was upset, “I’ve liked you like this for years and I don’t know how to not like you like this.”
“Please, I’m so sorry,” Koushi wiped a tear away from his own face. 
“I don’t need your pity, Suga. I need you to just say it,” I spat.
“No, come on we can just—”
“Say it, Koushi,” I whispered, my heart breaking into a million pieces in front of him. I was being vulnerable and I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth, no one ever said it would be this hard.
“I... I don’t like you like that,” Koushi said, his voice raspy and his eyes puffy from crying a little.
“Okay,” I nodded and took a deep breath. I felt embarrassed and exposed and completely vulnerable to anyone and everyone. “I’m gonna just stay in here for a while, do back to your friends.”
“Come with me, [Y/N],” He quickly said, trying to grab my hands. I flinched away and shook my head.
“Give me a minute,” I sniffled. He hung his head and nodded quickly before shuffling out back into the backyard.
I broke down right there in his house, tears streaming down my face and choking sobs that I tried to keep quiet. I could go home, I had every reason to but at the same time I couldn’t move and I didn’t want to tell my parents why I was home early and why I was crying like a lunatic.
So I sat on the front porch steps with my head in my hands and dried tears on my cheeks. I sat in silence for a long while and just thought while staring up at the dark sky. The wind was chilly but I couldn’t be bothered to get my jacket. 
Then I heard footsteps and I really hoped it wasn’t Daichi or Koushi, or Kiyoko for that matter. But I was pleasantly surprised.
“You want my jacket?” He asked.
“No, it’s cold out here, I don’t want you to be cold,” I retorted, sniffling slightly.
“I’m not the one crying on the porch,” He retorted, before slumping the jacket over my shoulders.
He moved to sit down beside me on the steps and he didn’t ask me about what happened, he didn’t need to know and he didn’t pry. I began to cry a little again but was almost silenced when he handed me an earbud. I pushed the earbud in and listened to the song, focusing on the words and began to feel a little better about this whole mess.
“Thank you, Tsukki,” 
a/n: heh gottem
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hanzorz · 8 years ago
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