#and everyone on this extremely crowded bus turned to look out the windows and said yes. boats. you are correct.
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unliikelylovers · 21 days ago
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some things about moving through the world as a butch dyke just crystallize what misogyny is all about like you would think that looking gay enough to experience street harassment for that would also make the more traditional catcalling stop but in fact it doesn't. because street harassment is not about attractiveness it is about power, and humiliation
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deansdelicate · 5 months ago
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I CAN SEE YOU
CHAPTER II: WATCHING YOU FOR AGES
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seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader
word count: [8.5K]
warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, mentions of having a baby out of wedlock (steph and paul), slight allusions to anxiety/loneliness, flirting (you don't even have to squint), mostly a light-hearted, domestic chapter <3
🎧 the soundtrack
summary: You're still getting accustomed to the fast life that comes with working for WWE, but it's all starting to settle down and you're beginning to feel like you belong with each day that passes—and it sure does help when a special someone is always going out of their way to make sure you know it too.
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Seth and the rest of the superstars sat patiently on the shuttle bus, awaiting one last person before they could head to the arena for the night’s taping of SmackDown. It wasn’t often that they got to travel as one big group, but it was always something he took up when possible.
Usually the procedure was driving themselves to and from cities, hotels, and arenas, but now that Paul was in charge, he did his best to work in bus accommodations in order to give talent the slot to relax before shows. But even then, some opted to drive themselves, like Roman who was missing from his usual seat beside Seth.
“Who are we even waiting for?” Xavier complained, standing up to scan the area, trying to detect who exactly was holding them up.
“I’m surprised it isn’t you,” Seth cackled over at Finn who was notoriously known for being chronically late to every bus ride.
The Irish lad rolled his eyes. “Whoever has me beat is far more a mess.”
“Mr. Driver, can we get this show on the road?” piped Kofi with a clap as all the superstars agreed, preferring to get to the arena before doors so they could all get situated.
The driver looked up in the rear-view mirror, laughing shortly with the shake of his head. The superstars grumbled, patience dwindling by the second, trying to pinpoint who was the culprit of them running behind and making a pact to bar them from any future bus rides.
It wasn’t unusual for a crowd to gather outside the hotel—many of them children accompanied with their parents to get autographs and photos if they weren’t able to snag tickets to the show. But this time around, the crowd felt larger, more amateur photographers scattered throughout, which was odd considering it wasn’t a pay-per-view event.
“Oh, shit…” Big E singsonged, leaning out of his seat towards the window to see what all the ruckus was about as the fans’ cheers got louder.
Security surrounded you closely, keeping their arms outwards to stop people from getting too close to you. You happily waved at everyone, pausing for the kids who asked for autographs and selfies, making small talk with them before you waved goodbye and continued following the security.
“This way, Ms. Levesque.” One of the guards escorted you towards the doors of the bus, holding it open and ensuring you’d get in safely.
“Thank you,” you murmured with a tight smile, giving each of them a handshake for going out of their way for you.
“Hi! I’m so sorry for the holdup,” you apologized sincerely, turning to meet the driver, “They just wanted to make sure we were clear to go ahead.” You explained, extending your hand.
The man reassured you with a comforting shake of his head and meeting your hand gently. Your father was extremely protective of you, therefore many, if not all drivers and security crew of the company were well aware of the procedure of making sure you got where you needed to be safely no matter how long it took.
“You are precious cargo, Ms. Levesque. Have a seat and I’ll get us to the arena promptly.” He directed, gesturing you to get comfortable wherever you pleased.
Passing through the aisle, you smiled and said your ‘hello’s’ to everyone, most were surprised that you were joining them, considering that you were almost always a driven separately.
But what they didn’t know was that you had to practically beg your father to switch transportation for the day, simply wanting to be around everyone instead of being chauffeured to every event, which was starting to become a little lonely.
Seth sat in the last row of the bus, an empty seat beside him catching your eye. You paused in the aisle, pointing to the space with a hopeful smile.
“Is it okay if I sit here?” you asked timidly, crossing your fingers he didn’t mind you invading his space.
He immediately bopped his head, patting the seat.
“Course, here, let me help you.” He offered, holding his arms out towards you to take your things so that you could get settled with the fuss.
“Thanks.” You breathed a sigh of relief, passing him your purse and laptop.
You slid into the seat and buckled in before retrieving your stuff, your eyes meeting Seth’s with a grateful expression when his fingers brushed against yours for a split second.
“I hope you guys weren’t waiting too long,” you apologized, placing your purse on the ground between your feet.
He shook his head, leaning back into his seat. “Nah, we weren’t waiting long. Plus, it’s always a pleasure to be waiting for the princess herself.”
You giggled, brushing your hair over your shoulders then laying your head against the rest. “I’ll be sure to remember that.”
The bus began moving en route to the arena that was a good twenty-five minutes away, giving you enough time to look over the script that you had been working on since what felt like forever ago. It was a part of an assignment your dad had you complete ting—writing four original scripts for the main roster, three of which focused on superstars who needed a bit more of character development.
The three completed scripts were met with praise by your dad alongside a number of producers and fellow writers who thought you were able to curate a story worthy enough to be showcased on TV. The remaining storyline, however, was a challenge—a romantic one.
You had been circling back to early storylines that involved romance, and while they were entertaining and good TV, they all felt one dimensional.
Therefore, you challenged yourself to come up with a script that would allow both leads to shine without acting as if their relationship was the only thing that existed. Sure, it was a longshot your dad would approve of it since TV hadn’t seen a romance trope in a while, but you wanted to take the risk and give it a shot.
“Important business?” Seth peered past your shoulder, raising his brow at your screen that had an overwhelming volume of text splayed across it.
You gawked up at him, nodding with a light laugh. “Just my final assignment.”
He looked at you, confused, feigning concern. “Final assignment? Did I miss the memo or something?”
You swung your head as you giggled, stopping your typing in order to show him exactly what you were up to.
“It’s the last storyline I’m writing for my dad to approve. I’ve been working on it for a while and now I’m just trying to polish it up for him.” You explained, tilting the screen towards him as you scrolled through the document.
“Whose it for?” he wondered, genuine curiosity in his eyes as he read a short fragment.
You rolled your shoulders with a shrug.
“To be honest, I don’t even have any particular superstars in mind. It’s very vague, but the details and sequencing are all there.”
“Well, if you’re writing it, I’m positive it’ll be worthy of Paul’s green-light.” He said confidently, his tone sincere, hoping it would make you feel slightly better to know he was rooting for you.
“I hope so,” your voice soft, exchanging tight smiles before you turned your attention back to work, trying to ignore the feeling of Seth’s eyes peering at you every so often while you typed away.
The bus ride was the perfect change of scenery even if it was just for a little while. It had been a bit lonesome traveling all by yourself and with the presence of everyone else you started to feel like you could get into the groove of things. Even if you weren’t involved in the conversation, the chatter of everyone cracking jokes made you grin through the work.
As the bus parked out back, the driver promptly exited to get the undercarriage opened so that talent could retrieve their luggages. Everyone stayed in their seats, just getting up to stretch their legs.
A security personnel poked their head into the bus, scanning the area until they saw you.
“Ms. Levesque, we’re going to escort you into the building.”
You acknowledged them with a nod, swiftly closing your laptop and gathering your things.
“How come we don’t get an escort too?” Kofi frowned, eliciting amusement from the entire bus, including yourself.
“Because I’m not a professional wrestler who could easily defend herself against crazed fans.” You half-joked with a pout.
“Noted.” Kofi replied with a smirk, flexing his arms and taking what you said as a compliment.
You shook your head with a laugh, turning back to Seth, who had been watching closely visibly seeing that now you were breaking out of your shell and learning everyone’s personalities.
“I’ll see you inside?” You proposed, getting up from your seat.
He nodded, knocking his knuckles against the window behind him. “See you in there.”
You twiddled your fingers goodbye before you walked through the aisle towards the front of the bus where security was already waiting.
“Bye everyone! I’ll see you inside,” you called out to everyone, waving as you exited and followed security through the surveillance screening to get into the arena.
After retrieving his bags, Seth headed straight to the locker room, dropping off his bags and then making his way toward catering for some food. He caught a glimpse of you on the way there, already sitting in hair and makeup, doing work on your laptop while you chit-chatted with the ladies.
He figured he’d leave you to it, hoping he’d run into you later in the night to talk more. He knew how important it was to make others feel welcomed, but it felt especially important to him that he could be someone you knew you could lean on, whether it was casual conversations or just talking about work.
“Where you off to? We’re all scheduled for a meeting with Paul.” Charlotte stopped him in the halls, going in the opposite direction of where all the talent was heading.
He scratched the back of his neck, pointing at her phone in her hand, “Was it an email? I didn’t see it on the itinerary.”
The blonde nodded, scrolling through her inbox. “Should’ve got sent to you this morning, but it doesn’t matter. It said all talent anyway.”
Seth nodded, walking alongside her, noting just how many people were headed in the same direction as Paul’s office. Usually they were all scheduled for meeting by group, but it seemed like it was an important one if Paul was calling for everyone on the same day at the same time.
As they squeezed into the office, some superstars found empty chairs while the rest stood against the walls, making space for those still arriving. The room buzzed with loud chatter, everyone speculating about the meeting’s purpose, hoping it wasn’t anything bad, like another round of roster splits.
Paul who sat at the head of the table, finally cleared his throat, silencing the room with an assertive presence that meant business.
“Okay everyone, let’s make this quick so you all can get out of here.” He rubbed his hands together, passing around papers that had the upcoming schedule for the next month.
“We’ve got some shows scattered across the east coast and mid-west. We’re prepping for SummerSlam, so things are going to start moving quicker and as we wrap up some storylines, we’re also going to be starting new ones.”
Many of the superstars were already well aware if they would be on the pay-per-view card or not, except Seth, who was still awaiting his opponent after he and Dean lost the tag team championships to Sheamus and Cesaro. They were originally going to have a rematch, but Dean ended up getting written into a different storyline with The Miz for the intercontinental championship.
“As you know my daughter joined us just a few days ago, but she has been watching and closely working alongside creative and producers in order to write a few scripts. Some of which will be getting played out in the coming weeks.”
Seth heard through the grapevine that some superstars already had meetings with you the following day after your debut to pitch the new storylines. Braun Strowman was one of the superstars to have a script written specifically for himself, and it was safe to say that everyone else was excited to see if they’d receive a script with your name on it too.
Your father was also greatly elated that you were taking the reins on helping him develop some talent—the pride evident in his voice and face as he spoke about you though you weren’t around to hear.
“And speaking about my daughter, I feel like this goes without saying, but just to make it abundantly clear, I think you should hear it from me.”
The tone in Paul’s voice suddenly shifted to something more serious, causing the superstars to deliberately fixate their sights on him.
“She’s new to this scene and to be quite frank she didn’t even want to step foot anywhere near the business, but she gave it a shot and while she’s still getting adjusted to the way things work around here, I have a good feeling she’s going to be the person taking over when I decide its time for me to step away…”
Everyone nodded along understanding that Paul’s time in charge might not be for long seeing as though he was getting older and he didn’t want to overstay his position of the head of creative knowing that it was best for a new perspective to be let in before things went stale.
Paul took a deep breath, the shift in his demeanor palpable as he transitioned from boss to protective father. His eyes scanned the room, settling on each superstar with a look that spoke volumes and caused most of them to squirm including Seth.
“Which is why I need to make myself crystal clear,” he began, his voice firm and unwavering. “My daughter is absolutely off-limits.”
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in despite him feeling like it should have been an automatic rule everyone should’ve been expected to follow without him saying it explicitly.
Seth found it a little hypocritical considering the nature of Paul and Stephanie’s relationship. Everyone knew they had gotten together despite Vince’s warning and everyone else tell them it was bad for business, yet here they were years later not only married but with four daughters to show for it.
But Seth also knew that mixing pleasure with business wasn’t always successful as theirs was—most times it was like playing a dangerous game, and he respected that aspect of it—plus, who would be crazy enough to go after the boss’s daughter, anyway?
“She’s a sweet girl,” he continued, his voice softening slightly trying not to get emotional when it came to you.
“And I’m not just saying that because she’s my kid. If anyone were to hurt her, especially when I’m the person signing their checks, I would hate to be the one to have to fire them too. Am I clear?”
Paul was anything other than threatening especially outside of the character he played up for fans, but it felt like the first time he showed the true colors that could come out if anyone dared to get on his bad side. There was a collective ‘yes’ that filled the room, nearly suffocating everyone with how thick the tension in the air was.
From the back of the room, Randy’s voice cut through the silence with a choked up laugh.
“I guess my dreams of calling you dad are finally crushed.”
Laughter calmed the room and everyone in it—of course Randy was the only one who could make a joke like that and live to see another day.
Paul chortled, pointing a finger in his direction. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, shaking his head and settling down.
Just then, the door swung open, causing everyone to look in its direction.
You stumbled in, changed out of your casual clothing into a little black dress with your hair pinned up in curlers. Your eyes widened, forehead creasing with worry as you quickly shut the door and darted your eyes towards your dad, sputtering out an apology.
“I’m sorry, I’m late! I thought the meeting started at—”
He shook his head, lifting a hand and cutting you off. “You’re right on time, sweetheart. I just got them briefed on next month’s schedule.”
He picked up one of the printed papers, waving you over to sit in the empty seat next to him.
A sigh of relief escaped your lips, smiling and waving to all the superstars as you made your way to the front of the room.
“Is there anything you guys talked about?” You speculated, brushing your hands against the fabric of your dress before you sat.
Everyone remained dead silent, shaking their heads realizing Paul had strategically given you a different time just so he could give all of them the word of warning without you present.
For a moment you caught eyes with Seth who stood near the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest and he quickly moved his eyes elsewhere, shaking his head like everyone else.
Your dad clicked his tongue, getting your attention. “No, just that and briefly about the storylines you had been working on.” He replied smoothly, covering the previous discussion without you knowing.
“Maybe you should formally introduce yourself, since they don’t know very much about you.”
He sat back in his chair, nodding for you to go ahead. For some reason, it was more nerve-racking to talk to all of them at once instead of the usual one-on-one conversations you had been having with them as the week went on.
“Oh, okay,” you muttered, nodding your head as you stood up, taking a deep breath.
“My apologies in advance for how I look right now. As you could tell, I am horrible with time management.” You bit your lip, miming at your head of curlers.
The room snickered, somewhat relaxing you seeing that they weren’t as intimidating and scary as they came off. They all understood how hectic the job could get, and some of them were still needed to change into gear, which made you feel like it was no big deal after all.
“As you know I’m Paul and Stephanie’s eldest daughter and I am currently serving as a freshman creative writer and backstage producer on the main roster. But before this, I had been writing storylines for NXT, the developmental brand, for about a year and a half. And before that, I was working in freelance writing after I graduated college.” You said, gaining a little more confidence the more you spoke.
“On screen I play according to my dad, a semi-heel and semi-face heiress to the legacy in which my mother’s side of the family forged and now has merged with father. And now that you’re all here, I just wanted to say thank you for welcoming me with open arms and giving me the opportunity to be a part of your world.” You pressed your hands together, bowing slightly towards them.
You caught a few impressed nods and smiles from the superstars, clearly unaware of your extensive experience and appreciating that you gave them their flowers despite you still being so new to the main roster.
“It’s been a huge deal for me that my father trusts me with creating stories, and I know it’s important that you, the performers who make it your own, feel connected to them, therefore I am always open to talking and hearing what we could do to make it better. So please do not feel intimidated by me at all—I’m seriously the least intimidating person around here, and I can’t wait to work with you all.”
The room filled with a round of applause that made you smile in relief as you sat back down after what felt like eternity with all eyes on you. And of course, like your eyes were trained to look in his direction, you couldn’t miss Seth wearing a tight lip grin and giving you a subtle thumbs up as if he knew you would be looking his way.
Your dad reached over, giving you a small pat on the back, displaying a proud smile.
“Well, that wraps it up. Let’s have a good show tonight, alright?”
Everyone slowly began to file out of your dad’s office, a few superstars sticking around to catch up with him, while some came up to you, indicating their excitement at having you on board. Seth waited until you wrapped up with some of them before approaching you to do the same.
“Good job,” Seth spoke genuinely, giving your arm a gentle tap, “Didn’t know you had so much experience.”
You laughed softly, feeling at ease with him around compared to everyone else.
“I didn’t want to bore you with my resume.” You shrugged.
Your father turned his attention to you both, a surprised look spreading across his face as he gestured between you both.
“You guys met already?”
You looked up at Seth, nodding with a silly grin before turning to your dad. “I actually ran into him on Monday before the show. I was totally klutz and bumped into him.” You confessed embarrassingly.
“Sounds just about right.” Your dad joked, prompting you to roll your eyes.
“She did deceive me a little bit,” Seth started, tipping his head towards you, “Left out that she’s the boss’s daughter.”
Your dad let out a snort, shaking his head knowing that you partly did so because you didn’t want to gloat, but mostly because you wanted to keep your debut a surprise for as long as possible.
“How are you feeling today?” Paul asked curiously, lacing his fingers together as he sat back into his chair.
You played with your fingers idly, smiling a little, “I think I’m getting the hang of it, but I still get nervous getting on live tv.” You admitted.
“Well, tonight’s good practice. You’ve got three short segments with some superstars, so they’ll help you through it.”
Alexa Bliss, Kevin Owens, and Roman Reigns.
You had gone over the script an abundant amount of times having your lines memorized off the top of your head.
Alexa, you had met down in NXT before she was drafted onto the main roster, the two of you becoming good acquaintances outside of the ring. When she found out you two would be having a segment together, she immediately shot you a text, gushing about how excited she was.
Kevin was introduced to you by your dad on Monday night. Him voicing his delight that you decided to come work for the company and all nice things said about the storylines you had forged in NXT prior. He still had a few friends down in developmental who bragged about the storylines you and Shawn were working on together and now that he finally had a face to your name, he was excited about what else you’d do on the main roster.
Roman was someone you watched consistently on TV. He was a part of the same faction Seth and Dean were in—The Shield. You hadn’t met him on Monday since he was on paternity leave, but tonight, having him back in action was the perfect opportunity to introduce yourself.
“Speaking of that,” you diverted your eyes back up to Seth who lingered at your side, “Do you know where Roman might be? I didn’t get the chance to talk to him one on one yet.”
Seth nodded, pointing his thumbs towards the door.
“I’m pretty sure he’s in catering. I’m heading there now if you want to come with.” He offered politely.
And you nodded thankfully, getting up to reach over and give your dad a small hug, “I’ll stop by before the show.”
“Don’t forget to get those out of your hair,” he reminded, chuckling along with Seth as you shook your head. “See you later, Seth,” He added, giving the wrestler a firm handshake before you were on your way.
The hallways were busy with crew members rolling in carts and transporting equipment before doors opened—a rush you were just starting to get used to it. You and Seth were practically shoulder to shoulder trying not to get in anyone’s way. Each time your hand brushed against his arm, you muttered a quiet apology, to which he hushed you, saying it was nothing to worry about.
As the haste in the hallway slowly dwindled, you glanced at him. “Thanks for saying those kinds of things. I really appreciate it.”
So far, Seth was the one superstar you had multiple interactions with and he had been pleasant each and every single time. You figured it was because he held a lot of respect for your dad, but another part of you knew it was just him being a good person.
He met your eyes, nodding his head and rubbing his hands together, “I know how daunting it is, especially when you’re so new to the scene, but just know that everyone already thinks you’re killing it…me especially.” He bragged, gesturing to himself with a smirk.
Your cheeks rose with a smile. “Thank you,” you whispered, and it never seemed to leave your face after that.
Reaching catering, he held the door open for you, letting you through first. Renee and Charlotte had caught a glimpse and immediately waved at you, their eyes briefly widening when they saw Seth strolling in behind you. He said something to you, pointing towards Roman’s back at the same table where the rest of his friends sat.
“Yo, big dog!” He shouted, garnering Roman’s attention as the man looked over his shoulder.
Seth motioned to you then headed off to grab food while you walked up to the man. You immediately greeted him with a glowing smile and a small wave. He grinned, setting his fork down and sticking his hand out to shake yours.
“Hey! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself. I heard you and your wife just welcomed two new little ones—congratulations!” You bubbled, making him smile at the thoughtfulness.
Rising up out of his chair, he opening his arms and gave you a warm appreciative hug.
“Thanks, and it’s nice to meet you too.” He replied, before drawing away, “I saw what you did on Monday and man…the fans already love you.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I think they’re still a little skeptical if I’m going to be more like my mom’s character or my dad’s.” You threw your hands up, making him chuckle.
Nearly forgetting, your eyes widened, and you snapped your fingers.
“And hey, if you want to change anything about our segment, just let me know. I’m always in my office and if I’m not there, I’m probably hiding from my dad’s personal assistant.”
He and the rest of the table cracked a laugh, aware that your father kept a close eye on you, especially after what they gathered from the meeting.
“I appreciate that. It’s always nice to know I can talk to you,” He replied earnestly, his statement showing his gratitude before taking his seat again to continue eating.
“Wanna sit?” Seth offered, returning with a plate of food and he pulled out the empty chair beside him for you to take. You nodded, thanking him with a smile as you took a seat.
“So you said that before NXT you were working as a freelance writer,” Renee spoke, leaning towards you across the table and you nodded. “Anything we know you from?”
You thought for a moment, shaking your head.
“To be honest, I don’t think so. I did a lot of screenwriting after college. Short films and mini projects that didn’t really take off, but then after that I got really into creative writing and launched a tiny little column in the local paper about fictional entertainment.”
“Wow, you really are a workhorse.” Dean complimented.
“You have to show us one of your short films someday,” Seth chimed in, chuckling when he saw embarrassment flush over your cheeks.
You shook your head vigorously, covering your face, making everyone laugh and shake their heads.
“It was mediocre at the very least. A lot of angst and tropey plot lines.”
Maybe it was you attempting to be humble or truly just wanting to save yourself the mess, but they all knew deep down that you had a vividly gifted mind. It already proved itself to be true with the experience you had, but more so in the fact that you took the time to make sure everyone in the locker-room knew you were approachable because the storylines meant just as much to you as it did to them.
Charlotte reached across the table, grazing your hand, “We’re all going out to dinner tonight. You should join us!”
She extended the invitation with a friendly smile, hoping you would take her up on it, seeing as though they all wanted to get to know you more.
“You sure?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to impose.
“Yeah, come on,” Seth nudged you gently, flashing you a toothy grin, “The restaurant we’re going to is known for the best steak in the city and I heard they’ve got a killer dessert menu.” His voice had a teasing lilt, as if trying to entice you.
You pressed your lips together, shoulders caving in shyly until you finally nodded.
“Sure, why not” You gave in, the table hooting with a frenzy, making you smile wider.
“I just have to ask my driver to drop me off. Do you mind giving me the address?” You asked, looking towards Charlotte.
“You could ride with me and Seth after the show,” Roman suggested, jutting his chin over at his buddy who nodded in agreement.
“And we’re staying at the same hotel, so it’ll be no problem getting back.” Seth added, his eyes meeting yours in a reassuring gaze.
You nodded, smiling happily, “That’s perfect, thank you so much! Should I meet you guys in the parking garage after the show?”
They nodded. “We’ll be there.”
“Great! I’m going to get these out of hair, but I’ll see you guys tonight!” You beamed, rising up and giving all of them a wave.
As you wandered away, you suddenly turned back on your heel, shooting Roman a playful point.
“And I’ll see you later for the segment!” You added eagerly, and he chuckled nodding as you went on your way.
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By the time the main event match was wrapping up, gorilla was nearly empty. Just a few producers and your dad who hung back sticking around to congratulate Kevin and Roman.
You had been sitting in gorilla after your three segments had wrapped, needing a change in scenery while you worked through your final script and took some producer notes as your dad worked.
Soon enough Roman’s music hit, signaling the end of the show. The hard camera continued rolling for a few more seconds until your dad spoke through the headsets to cut, and soon the two superstars began making their way up the ramp.
You immediately stood up, walking over to the curtain to greet them, watching as they shook each other’s hand.
“Amazing match, you two,” you applauded.
The two men laughed when you stuck your arm out offering them a first bump, not wanting to give them a proper hug due to the sweat and they met your knuckles in a friendly manner.
Roman pointed at you, still catching his breath as a stage hand passed him a bottle of water.
“Parking garage, don’t forget.” He spoke and then chugged the liquid.
You nodded, thanking him for reminding you, “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I wrap up here.”
He went over to your father and the rest of the producers, shaking their hands before heading to the locker room to catch a shower and gather his things for the road. You said goodnight to all that were leaving, thanking them for their kind words regarding your segment and all the work you had been doing so far.
Your dad took off his headsets, shrugging off his suit jacket.
“Where you headed off to?” He wondered, watching you collect your laptop and notebook from the monitor desks.
“Charlotte invited me out to dinner with a few people and I’m gonna catch a ride with Roman and Seth there.” You announced cheerfully, holding your things against your chest.
He smiled lovingly, happy to see that they were making an effort to make you feel extra welcomed.
“That’s nice of them. Just make sure you get back to the hotel alright. We have an early flight in the morning.”
“Of course, dad.” You nodded, going to give him a hug, “And if you see Eddie, tell him I said thank you for sending my stuff over to my suite.” You spoke against him.
He nodded, pressing a kiss to cheek forehead. “Shoot me a text when you turn in. I love you.”
“Love you too, dad.”
You quickly made a pit stop at your office to tidy up the space and grab the rest of your belongings, checking that you had everything before the arena locked up for the night. Anticipating the brisk cold of the night, you pulled on your black oversized blazer, giving the room one last look over before shutting the door and walking towards the back entrance where the parking garage was located.
You looked around, stepping further until you spotted Roman and Seth loading up the trunk of their rental with their bags while Charlotte, Renee, and Dean lingered against the rental beside them, making small talk while waiting for you.
Your heels clacked against the concrete, catching their attention.
“Thanks again for the ride,” you chirped, pausing near the boys who finished up sliding in their luggage and bags.
Seth frowned, looking down and around you.
“Where’s your stuff?” He wondered, pointing to the small space he reserved for your things.
You waved your hand off in the air, “Eddie sent it over to my suite earlier in the night. Didn’t want you guys doing extra arm work.”
Roman tsked, patted his biceps and flexing them dramatically, “Don’t worry, baby girl, these puppies can lift anything.”
You giggled, rolling your eyes playfully until Dean whistled, tossing his keys between his palms.
“Let’s get this show on the road. I want my steak pronto.” He said, rubbing his tummy.
You all began getting into your respective cars. Seth taking the liberty of motioning you to follow him, holding open the backdoor for you, “After you.”
“Thanks,” you murmured softly, sliding in and buckling your seatbelt.
He shut your door gently, walking around to the driver’s seat, getting the car started while Roman got comfortable in the passenger. The radio was on low, and Seth deliberately toggled with the climate control, turning on the heating for the backseat, knowing you were a bit chilly now that you sported a jacket over your dress.
He signalled for Dean to go first, waiting as the other car reversed out of the stall, and Seth followed behind en route to the restaurant that was just a few more minutes into the city.
Roman cleared his throat, briefly looking back at you. “How did you feel about your segments?”
You shifted in your seat, sitting up a tad. “It actually went better than I thought! It’s just the thought of the camera being there and the anticipation of going live that gets me all nervous.”
They both understood what you meant, and to be fair they had a bit of an advantage when they were first starting out. Seth, Roman, and Dean having each other to lean on during segments, matches, and promos which made the whole thing feel less intimidating and prepared them for when they became singles competitors.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, the crowd is already receptive to you and you have good chemistry with everyone you’ve worked with so far.” Seth said kindly, eyes looking at you in the rearview, catching a smile that spread across your face even in the dingy lighting of the car.
The rest of the drive was full of chitchat—Roman gushing over his kids, pride sweltering as he spoke about them and how much he missed them while on the road. Seth expressed the same feelings, except regarding his adorable yorkie named Kevin who he had since his NXT days.
You had a little bit of both—three little sisters whom you were extremely close with, and like a second mother figure to them, and childhood dogs who snuggled you each time you came to visit home.
When you all arrived, Seth the ever gentleman he was, opened your door, helping you out before you all walked in. The restaurant was rustic yet sleek, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary, which was charming for a nice spot in the city. The heavy wooden doors gave way to the space adorned with marble countertops and wooden panelling that complimented the setting.
“You guys can follow me…” the hostess instructed, guiding your group towards the back of the restaurant in a secluded corner perfect for all seven of you.
Everyone picked their seats—Dean and Renee sitting on one side along with Charlotte. Roman sat at the head of the table and you and Seth sat directly across from the trio, with you on the tail end.
He pulled out the chair for you, nodding his head as you smiled and bowed slightly at the gesture. “Why thank you,” you giggled, taking a seat as he pushed the chair in slightly and took the empty adjacent to Roman.
The hostess got you all started with some menus, letting you all browse over it before she would come back and get your orders. You flipped through the laminated pages, picking two items just in case they were out of the other.
You peered over at Seth who was doing the same until you nudged your elbow gently into his, gaining his attention as he perked up and nodded towards you.
“What are you getting?”
“A medium rare tomahawk, potatoes, and a water,” He said without skipping a beat or taking another look at the menu, “I already knew what I was gonna get.”
The act alone made you giggle, shaking your head at him as he too broke out into a laugh, watching you fold up your menu as you settled down.
“So you were just trying to fit in the whole time?” You bantered, narrowing your eyes at him.
He rubbed his hands over his chest, nodding, “I didn’t want to be the only one not looking at the menu.” He whispered, eyes shifting to everyone else who was still deciding what they were going to get.
You sat back, folding your arms across your chest, shifting an inch closer to him, “I probably won’t get anything too fancy, but I am definitely getting some red wine…you’re not having a beer?”
He shook his head, mimicking your action, his shoulder pressed against your arm. “I am transporting precious cargo and I would hate for you to suffer even a scratch.”
You felt warm all over, trying to suppress another smile that always seemed to be incessantly glued to your face whenever Seth said something nice to you. And you failed to conceal it again, letting your cheeks rise.
“I appreciate your chivalry.” You spoke quietly enough for just him to hear.
“You’re getting dessert after too, right?” He insisted, pointing at the image of a chocolate lava cake that he was most certainly talking up earlier in the night.
You pursed your lips, not knowing if you could stomach it by yourself. “Wanna split it?”
He smirked, nodding, “Yeah sure, but just letting you know, I am going to ask for a scoop of vanilla ice cream over top.”
“Sounds divine.” You wiggled your brows, making him chuckle.
Dinner was full of laughter, with food and drinks served on the side. It had been a while since you had been around people who made you laugh so much without even trying too hard. All of them were so lively, cracking jokes left and right and somehow still being able to carry a casual conversation without missing a beat.
You felt safe around all of them, a kind of camaraderie that didn’t make you feel as if you were just solely the boss’s daughter, but rather a friend in the making through your new venture in life. Good things took time, and you knew the friendships you were going to make with all of them was totally worth it.
“No, they did not!” Renee and Charlotte stared at you wide eyed, the rest of the table bursting out into laughs while you nodded your head instantaneously and rested your palms on the tabletop, leaning towards them.
“I swear to god, I’m not making this up!” You drew an x over your heart, holding your palms in the air.
“Maybe I pissed the guy off for turning him down, but there I was getting ready to drive to class and that piece of shit spray painted “suck it!” all over my car!” You exclaimed, disturbed, but not for long, as you threw your head back and laughed uncontrollably.
The girls followed suit, hunching over the table, reaching for your arms and clinging to you while you all laughed like little kids. You had no clue how you got to talking about your terrible college experience with boys, but somehow you got there, and everyone was dumbfounded that one guy you turned down would go all Degeneration X on you.
“Your parents must have been pissed, right?” Dean sought, settling down with a stiffled laugh.
Your eyes widened as you nodded, sipping on your wine before you replied.
“Oh, they were livid once they first found out! But eventually when it passed, and I got it painted over, we just couldn’t stop laughing because it was just so absurd.”
Roman shook his head, staring at you in amazement.
“I can’t believe we didn’t know about you this entire time. Your parents really kept you out of the limelight, huh?”
You nodded, “That, and the fact that having a baby out of wedlock really wasn’t something my parents wanted out at the time—mostly because of my grandpa Vince.”
They all winced, grinning guiltily knowing of course Vince of all people was the one who wanted to keep his daughter’s premarital pregnancy under wraps. Thankfully, now it wasn’t such a big deal and you and your parents found it slightly comical.
“What’s funny is that I swore I saw you running up and down the arenas back when I was like 10 and you were like 3?” Charlotte recalled, looking over at you puzzled.
You nodded, gesturing up at your hair. “If my hair was in pigtails and I sported a gigantic DX shirt as a dress, then yes. That was totally me causing trouble in the corridors.”
Seth peered at you, watching you closely. “How come you didn’t want to get into the business sooner?”
You sighed heavily, shrugging your shoulders, “I don’t know. I guess I just thought it was too much. Too much business. Too much drama. Too many feelings getting hurt, especially when family is involved.” You pointed out to which everyone understood.
“How’d your dad convince you?” He added, knowing it must have not been so easy.
You set your elbow on the table, resting your chin on your first as you stared at him ardently.
“I had a feeling my dad was going to take over the company, and at that time I wasn’t doing a lot, so when he came to me and pitched the idea, I was a teeny bit hesitant, but he promised me I could have all the creative freedom I wanted. So long as I didn’t erase history or disregarded any talent’s input.”
Seth nodded along, listening to you express your relationship with the company and most importantly your dad. It was clear that you had no intentions of getting involved because to be fair you loved what you did on your own, but you took a risk and fell in love with writing storylines that were refreshing for the product and the new era of television they were in.
Many of the superstars, including Seth were thrilled when it was announced that Paul was taking over, but adding you into the mix made everything feel a little different in the best way possible. Usually writers and producers pushed back against their ideas and suggestions, but you exhibited a profound way of keeping and getting them involved in the product behind the scenes in a way that many never got to chance to have.
He knew, just as well as everyone else that you were going to leave your mark. The way you talked about your craft and the sincerity that leaked with every word had him enthralled—that was until Dean broke up the stare he had on you.
“We better cross our fingers we get a script written by you.” Dean raised his glass, breaking the silence.
You blinked slowly, the warmth still lingering in the air between you and Seth as you shifted your eyes to the rest of your friends lifting their glasses to you.
“To the Levesque Era,” Seth declared, following suit and nodding for you to pick up your wine glass.
“And new beginnings,” you continued, your voice soft but sanguine, the rim of your glass clinking with his lightly as you repeated the sentiment with everyone else.
As promised, you and Seth shared a chocolate molten lava cake topped with vanilla bean ice cream. The two of you sliding the plate between each other, sitting back comfortably as you listened to everyone catch you up on what they were up to in their lives outside the company.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the hostess. You smiled at her, straightening up as she approached. Subtly, you handed her your card, and she nodded, promising to be back with the receipt.
As she walked away and you discreetly tucked your wallet back into your purse, Seth leaned in over your shoulder, wondering what you were up to.
“What did you just do?” He asked, his mouth still full, staring at you with a mix of suspicion and amusement.
You looked back at him, slowly relaxing back as you bit your lip and tried to pretend you didn’t hear him the first time.
“What do you mean?” you raised your brow at him.
He swallowed, shaking his head. “Did you just pay? I told you it was on us,” He protested, eyes widening in playful disbelief.
“Oh hey c’mon, that’s cheating.” Roman chimed in, pointing at you.
You held your hands up in defense, a smirk playing on your lips. “No, seriously, it’s on me. You guys invited me out, and it’s the least I could do.”
“Next time we’re baring you from even sticking your hand in your purse,” Renee threatened, sticking her hand out for you to shake on it.
Giggling, you nodded as you clasped her hand. “You have my word.”
You let go, all of you beginning to wrap up and get ready to head out for the night.
Seth, still shaking his head, leaned closer, a mischievous look in his eyes.
“You’re something else, you know that?”
“Just trying to make a good impression.” You argued with a playful shrug.
“Well, you’re definitely succeeding,” he retorted, voice true despite the teasing tone that came along with it.
The night winded down perfectly, zero traffic heading back to the hotel and sleepiness just on the precipice of settling behind your eyes. You, Seth, and Roman said goodnight to three after you and the girls exchanged phone numbers while the men got their bags and suitcases unloaded from the trunks.
“What floor?” Roman ordered, looking over towards you and Seth entering the elevator.
“Six,” you and Seth said in unison, turning to each other with matching looks of surprise and a shared laugh. Roman chuckled as he pressed the buttons for both floors.
The elevator hummed quietly as it ascended, a comfortable silence settling over the three of you after the night of laughter and conversations you had. When it dinged on Roman’s floor, he reached around, pulling you into a small hug.
“Thanks again for dinner.”
“Of course! You have a good night.” You replied warmly, returning the hug and stepping back. Roman and Seth exchanged a firm handshake, a silent nod of understanding between them before Roman exited the elevator.
As the doors closed, and continued its ascension to the sixth floor, Seth turned to you with a gentle smile. “Want me to walk you to your room?”
You nodded without a second thought, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.
“I’d like that.”
The hallway was quiet and shadowy, the carpeted floors muffling your footsteps and rolling of his suitcase as you walked sided by side. Your room was at the end of the corridor, just a few doors away from him. Stopping in front of your door, you searched your bag for the keycard.
“Thanks again for tonight.” He kept his eyes on you, catching the way you looked up past your lashes, and shook your head with a small smile.
“It’s the least I could do, and thank you for making me feel welcomed. It really means a lot to me.” You said, finally fishing the key out of your bag.
“Any chance I can treat you for coffee in the morning?” He proposed politely, wanting to return the gesture.
But you pouted wistfully, shaking your head and feeling genuinely bummed.
“I’ve actually got an early flight. It’s my little sister’s birthday and me and my dad are surprising her.” You apologized, wishing your fight was later in the day.
Seth nodded understandingly, not letting his disappointment show past his smile. “That’s alright. Tell her I said happy birthday.”
You grinned, nodding, “Of course! And I’ll definitely take you up on that coffee date when I get back.” You promised, eyes twinkling with anticipating for it.
“Looking forward to it,” he breathed, his gaze lingering on you as you slid the key into your door, turning the handle.
You gave him one last smile, feeling just a tad reluctant to end the night despite your tiredness.
“Night, Seth.”
“Night sweetheart.” He said quietly, watching as you stepped inside and offered him one last wave before shutting the door.
And so he walked back a few doors down, looking down your way one last time, already hoping for the next time he’d see you again.
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💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌
a/n: i hope you guys like chapter two of icsy!!! i was aiming to do something domestic and fun, and i thought why not dinner with the whole crew and a side of seth and reader flirting like idiots the whole time??? let me know what you guys think and i cannot wait for you to read the next chapter (hehehe it's already one of my faves <3).
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saucyjothoughts · 5 months ago
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🌼 i was literally just in your inbox talking about feminized kris but the nacekris got to me. bless you saucy its one of my favorite ships. i realise this is pretty long to drop in your ask box so i apologize if thats bad etiquette - i got carried away
i imagine theyre in the london apartment. kris thinks hes all alone putting his get up on. for all intents and purposes, hes supposed to be. nace just comes home earlier because he realises hes forgotten his metro card.
its a set he found in london, on his way back from his photoshoot with damon. he stopped at the mall just to pick up shampoo, he swears, but on the way to the pharmacy he passes the lingerie store.
he actually gasps seeing it in the window. its extremely pretty. innocent in the dirtiest way possible. pretty and pink, and mostly see through, a little bow with a pearl in the middle of the knot right above where his cock would sit in the panties. the bralette is a bandeau with no sponge padding but still the sort hed shove his pecs into and the way the elastic bands at the top and bottom would crowd them would turn them into small handfuls.
he stares as he passes it and is distracted through his entire pharmacy trip. he picks up the wrong shampoo and realises as hes queuing for the checkout, twice, and almost forgets to pick up the cough drops jure asked for. he tries to pay with the wrong card and lets out a string of colorful slovene as it declines and he has to pick out the correct one. he apologizes to the cashier for the inconveniece as he punches his pin in, and she makes a joke about him being distracted with valentines day coming up. he swears all of his blood leaves his brain and his legs and arms as he blushes scarlet and stutters something like an agreement, which just makes the cashier giggle more.
he does stop for the set. somewhere between the pharmacy and the store something in his brain breaks fundamentally, he guesses, and its like the dial on his self control is a level pushed so hard it cant be unstuck ever again. he walks in and gets help from a sales assistant. he tells her a pretty story about his girl named tina (conveniently leaving out how that comes from kristina), and their planned trip to his hometown for valentines day, and really he just wants to surprise her so bad with the set in the window she saw the other day.
he thinks the lever on his self control mightve unstuck when he gets to checking out, but he spots some almost entirely transparent stockings and it becomes apparent said lever might never become work normally again. but you dont understand, theyre so beautiful, theyd look like theres just a line down the back of his legs. thank fucking god he knows his measurements, he thinks not for the first time. a lifetime of getting pants tailored for his longs legs is good for just the one thing, he guesses.
he tucks the set and the stockings, in their packaging, in the very bottom of his backpack, under everything else and hopes he finds a place in his shared fucking room he can hide it well enough. fuck that broken lever, seriously.
the whole ordeal leaves his heart beating so hard he chainsmokes his last four cigarettes in the bus stop, hoping he gets home at least looking normal.
now, in his room, hes putting on the set, hoping he at least gets to look at himself in the mirror before everyone else comes home if nothing else. he's midway through putting on the bralette, trying to figure out how to do the closing mechanism in the back properly with how wide the bandeau is, when he hears the apartment door open and close.
fuck no shit no fuck fuck fuck fuck. hes trying to be quiet, searching for his pants, pretending to be alseep, hoping whoever entered isnt looking for him or anything in his room.
of course luck isnt on his side. of course he hears, "kris? are you up? i think my metro card fell out of my jeans in there last night."
right, of course, he and nace hung out until late last night in his room, until bojan kicked them both out to facetime jere in peace. he must be quiet for too long, because the door opens before he gets to say just a sec or anything similar and now hes there, lace panties on, pink roses all over his ass and god, the bow too, and hes holding the bralette in his hands and now naces there and hes so fucking mortified and-
"im sorry," nace says too quickly and closes the door, and his blushing face and dilated pupils is burned onto kris's retinas for ever and ever now, he thinks.
he hears the apartment door close and lock and thats that for now. christ on bikes.
sure, hes slept with nace before. hes slept with everyone in the band, and a few people in the crew. several times. but thats different. quickies in venue dressing rooms, and club bathrooms and one memorable time in the tour bus lounge area. thats different.
hes not even in the mood anymore. he changes and tucks the lingerie away and takes a cold shower that takes too long. is there something wrong with him? the store in the mall taught him that his self control is shot when it comes to pretty underwear but now hes really thinking its something else. like, psychologically. he thinks about texting damon to get his ass here, since there is no way in hell hell talk to anyone in the band about it and damon might be his best shot, but then decides to look up therapists near him when words like nymphomania and hypersexuality pass his mind. his questionable health insurance policy leaves him, however, thinking that would be better to consider when he returns to slovenia. he gets in bed despite it being barely late afternoon and tosses about and then sleeps until the next day.
nace doesnt say anything about it, but keeps giving kris these long looks when he thinks he isnt looking, which might be worse.
the situation does resolve itself, in the most satisfying twist of fate, when they end up alone in the house a week or so later.
jan is the last to leave and hes barely out of the door, throwing one last shifty look to kris and nace (because of course hed notice something is up), when nace pins him to the nearest wall in the living room. nace starts kissing and biting at his neck before kris can even gasp, and then starts speaking.
"god, you were so pretty. all lace and blush." and kris is so suprised, nace never initiates this aggressively, which has a thrill going through him at just the thought, and he lets out the most embarassing sound of his fucking life right then.
"cmon, baby," nace continues, and its so uncharacteristic and so rough and so erotic, kris is so hard he becomes light headed. "why dont you go put your pretty clothes on, huh?" kris barely manages to gulp and nod, and then theyre rushing to his room, naces hands all over his back and ass and waist on the way. its clear nace was as affected as kris is and he doesnt know what to do with himself, his brain getting fuzzy from arousal and embarassment.
in his room, he gets out the set nace got a glimpse of and sets about putting it on. he chooses not to examine how satisfying the whole ordeal is, from how the lace is laying against his ass to nace groaning and gripping himself through his pants. the groaning gets loder when he bends over to put on the stockings.
he turns back to face nace when its time for the bralette and puts on his most innocent face. nace, thankfully, gets it, and helps him do the back.
"what a pretty girl you make," he comments off handedly, and something breaks further is kris's brain. oh. nace catches on, of course, and grins in that dangerous way he does. "look at you, dressed up all nice for me. and so shy, never wouldve showed me. do you want to out anything else on? or can i have fun with you now?"
kris has not felt this out of his fucking mind since he got high for the first time, almost a decade prior. he barely gets to squeak out, "shoes. lipstick."
naces eyebrows hit his hairline when he processes what hes hearing and he hums, "where are the shoes, pretty girl? put your makeup on, ill get them," he says, all gently.
"under- in the closet, in the black box, under the jackets." nace kisses his forehead and turns to rifling through the closet.
kris's one and only lipstick, he bought on accident. he bought it in poland at a drug store, thinking it was a balm, which he still half thinks it is, except its extremely pigmented, a nudey pink, but impossible to miss. he puts it on in the full length mirror, which lets him see nace finding the shoes, and whistling when he opens the box.
theyre simple pink pumps he bought second hand weeks ago, which thinking back, is probably when he shouldve realized his self control was shot. he planned to donate them again or throw them away before moving back, depending on how shot they were by that time.
"cmon, sit down, ill help you." and he does. naces hands on his legs feel reverent, and kris feels the band on his panties lift with how turned on he is. nace looks him up and down, and when he finally gets to look at his face, he breathes hard.
kris never gets to walk around in the heels. nace pushes him down on the bed in the next second and kisses him hard, smearing make up all over his face. nace drags down the bralette and tortures his nipples with his teeth and hands until theyre puffy and red and erect. like a girls, kris's brain helpfully supplies.
one hes done with kris's nipples, nace lets his mouth run. he tells kris how pretty and sexy he is, how nice it is of him to surprise nace like this as he pushes the panties to the side, spitting on kris's hole a few times before he pushes a first finger in.
kris cant keep his noises in, moaning and whimpering and gasping. at one point, nace stops fingering him to push the bralette back up over his tits, and the lace rubbing iver his raw nipples almost has kris coming right then.
nace keeps his mouth running as he fucks kris, kris's pumps on his shoulders. its probably the most vocal kris has seen him during sex. moaning and groaning and praising and degrading kris all at one. calling him pretty, and a dirty girl all in one, and calling him perfect fucking slut for me, which shoots kris's brain up into flames.
when kris is close, nace jerks him off through the panties until he comes in them, ruining the lace, and then pulls out to jerk himself off and come over them, too. kris feels so dirty and so hot, and hes so in his head about it he doesnt feel when nace drags the panties down to his knees, and gasps loudly when nace begins licking at his wet cock to clean him up. nace continues long after hes clean, only stopping when kris is too over sensitive to take it anymore.
kris's mind is far away as nace takes off all the pieces of his set, and takes him to the bathroom to wash him off. nace kisses his neck and face and whispers praises as he washes kris's hair and body. he even changes the bed sheets, which kris is extremely thankful for, and puts the lingerie in the bag kris took it out of.
they cuddle for a long time, until kris can vocalize more that hnggggh, "do you figure i could get the panties dry cleaned? so we can mess them up again."
nace laughs with his entire chest, and runs his hair through kris's damp hair, "ill buy you a thousand pairs if you let me mess them up."
NaceKris nation, come get your breakfast!
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elmaxlys · 4 months ago
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This must be one of the most terrifying dreams I've ever made. Summary? Everyone was out to get me. Everyone was lying to me and trying to kill me because I accidentally found out the truth.
It started pretty much standard : I have a disagreement with my family, I go out, I lie about having an appointment so I plan my escapade around the supposed time of said appointment. I take into account the time by bus, of course. And when I go out and take the wrong turn (to go to appointment I must go right, but I took a left), I feel something wrong. Someone's following me, I can see him in the corner of my eye. I pretend I didn't notice and go about my life. I wait for the bus and there are friends of mine at the stop. When the bus gets there, they prevent me from going to sit where I want.
I do my thing, but I'm hyperaware of the person following me. I test things (accelerating or changing streets suddenly or blending into a crowd and stuff) but he's still on my tail. I'm extremely stressed but I'm also extremely angry so it cancels out.
And yeah basically I had talked about my struggles with my family to my friends, who had always tried to tell me we just need to talk openly more, and now that my entire family is out to get me I suddenly find out that she was in it the entire time. Every single person I've interacted with was in on it and now trying to track me down. And the smiles are creepy. And I'm running out of places to go. And suddenly I'm the middle of a religious fest and I somehow know that it's the kind of tradition where at some point everyone covers with a scarf. So I go blend in with the crowd, looking for a large group of people with opaque scarves. I find one but I see my father in the crowd and he's looking my way and I'm pretty certain he's seen me so I try to move and look for another group (it was on a huh city plaza kinda thing) and my heart is beating out of my chest. I go into an alleyway and get into a building through the window. It's a bookstore I know, there are many floors and apparently know they also sold furniture so I go hide under a bed, but I get found out and I somehow take out someone (as in killed) that I'm half convinced was my mother. I run, I try to hide but I see it's not gonna be possible. Somehow when I go outside I can easily go to another bookshop which is normally in another city. I know these people have an emergency button on one of their tables so that if people need help but can't say it out loud, they know and try to help. But I can't find the button, there are other buttons but they are for playing games. (the disposition of the shop has changed too btw it's like a mix of two stores I know) and yeah turns out they knew I'd come there so they were waiting for me and I realize they're tracking me via my phone so I decide to use that and lure someone else in an alley and they mock me for not having gotten rid of my phone, but I say or maybe I did on purpose and I jump them, beat them to a pulp and move out.
And it keeps going like that, they trying to catch me, me barely surviving. Everyone out to get me.
For the stats : regular me, legal name
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nightcall99 · 1 year ago
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Dreams from 11.10.23
Dream 1: There was a big party happening and we were all standing in a hall waiting to be paired up with dance partners. The room was filled to the brim with people, all of them seemed to be strangers that I didn't know. People were standing in line and joining together with randomly assigned partners, one by one, as the line moved forward. When it was my turn, I wasn't comfortable with partnering up with anybody like everyone else was doing because I didn't want to be touched by a stranger, which is inevitably what happens when you dance. So I ignored the regular order of things and walked through the tunnel of people while surveying them all. I jokingly said to no one in particular, 'Can I pick a girl?', because if I had to choose I would much prefer a girl stranger than a male stranger. I did make eye contact with a few females but I didn't approach any of them. I kept walking down the part that lay in between the crowd and continued scanning people as if I was looking for someone. And there, I saw him. It was MS. We instantly recognised each other and smiled. By pulling him forward, I chose him. I was so glad to see him. He looked older, more mature. I was extremely glad to have someone I was familiar with as my dance partner. Then we all watched as a couple danced for a few minutes until an alarm went off. And then a few more pairs of people did the same thing, each time they would stop dancing when it was 'time'.
Then MS and I went outside and as we walked down the street, I realised he felt different. We weren't chatting openly like we used to. He said to me, 'I went to Europe', I asked 'When?' and he said 'I was in Europe when you were there'. We kept trying to make conversation but it was stilted. I felt like he had a grudge against me.
Then we came across a room and we went inside and MP (my ex) was there. MP and MS (who both have the same first name), sat side by side on the couch and seemed to stare at me from across the room with either apprehension or contempt, I'm not sure which. I tried to get them both to leave the room but they wouldn't. MP was mocking me, rolling his eyes and repeating a phrase I often used to utter back when we were together, except he did it in a sing-song to dismiss the conversation. Actually, I think the both of them hated me. At some point, I must have fallen asleep because I woke up and realised I had done so with just enough time to make it back to the hall. I wondered what would have happened if I had not woken up of my own accord. Would either of them have done anything? MS and I left to make our way back and I felt the whole time that he was keeping his distance from me.
Dream 2: I got off at the bus stop which arrived in front of a boutique shop that is situated on a shopping strip. I usually frequent this place but this time it looked like they were closed because the blinds were shut and the lights were off. There were two ladies, who were probably the owners, standing out the front with their keys in hand as if they were safe-guarding the door. I wondered if it was closed for renovation because it seemed like there were people inside even though it felt ‘closed’ from the outside. I was about to move on when I saw a sign on the window which said that they were in fact open for business, but that they would lock the door behind you as you entered. I’m not totally sure but this felt like a compromise in order to stay open at all. When I entered the shop, I could see it was filled with the usual assortment of goods including books, jewellery, home-wares and all sorts of other unique things. Usually I enjoy browsing at this particular shop but this time I wasn't too interested in any of the products, so I left out the back and suddenly found myself inside a shopping centre.
It was basically empty, there was barely anyone around and all the shops seemed closed. I passed by a few people who I recognised but they looked different and they didn't seem to know me anymore. Then all of sudden I realised that I was supposed to be attending a university class that was happening at that very moment. But I hadn't wanted to go and that's why I was shopping. I felt the call to go but I decided I was just going to continue doing what I was doing and not worry about it. I saw a couple who seemed to be the only ones left who were still excited and curious about the contents of the mall, they were saying things like ‘look at this, look at that' etc. For some reason I followed them for a bit, trailing after them at an appropriate distance, but I stopped following them when they walked down some darkened steps leading to what was probably the cinema.
Dream 3: I had a dream in the dream, where I was told that the pharmacy board was going to visit our workplace and conduct a surprise inspection. Then the very next day in the dream, it actually happened. When I got to work, I was working but also not really, since I didn't really care about what was going on anymore but I was definitely elated that I was able to tell the future. I was like damn, at least I’m psychic. I saw IB, the guy who used to be the state manager and he was as flamboyant as always but I didn't pay much attention to him. Then I realised my workplace was also my house. I went into an office room that was also a bedroom and looked in the drawers and inside were a few of my childhood toys.
I saw RM's (childhood friend) mum and waved to her. She wasn't dead like irl, she had golden light surrounding her and she looked younger, and most importantly healthy (dealt with many health issues when alive) and happy. I was glad.
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yamagucji · 4 years ago
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Embarrassing moments
warnings. just for shits n giggles, 14+ readers preferably, mentions of vomit, poop, choking, etc.
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HINATA was extremely constipated and needed to use the bathroom quick. but there’s a long line to the mens bathroom (what’s the occasion anyway??) and he’s standing all the way at the back. poor hinata felt a fart coming so he just couldn’t... hold it in. mans SHARTED. shitted and farted at the same time. it stunk so bad that the guys in front of him said, “damn, you need the toilet more than me,” and let him cut in line.
USHIJIMA and tendou stopped to pet this dog during their walk. tendou’s conversing with the owner while toshi’s petting the dog. dog likes it, it’s all good. until... it got bored and decided that toshi’s butt smelled good. dog just wouldn’t stop sniffing his ass. “please, stop smelling me,” toshi says with desperation, which now catches the others’ attention. the owner has to pry their dog away from toshi’s ass cheeks, please. the awkward tension kinda dies down until tendou utters, “so, what’s your secret? what product are you using?”
YAMAGUCHI drank water in the middle of silent class reading. this boy started choking— and i mean choking on his water. you can hear his muffled coughs in the distance and when you turn around to look at him, his face is all red and his cheeks are puffy. none of his classmates say anything but you can practically feel second-hand embarrassment oozing around. the assistant teacher even has the audacity to say, “drink some water.”
KENMA’s calling this one his last try. he sticks his remaining coins into the slot and tries to get the brand new nintendo box thats in the machine. mf has been going at this for over twenty minutes now. his pouch is empty and there’s a crowd of kids waiting for him. no miracle happens in his last try (shit got stuck!!) so he has to move away only to watch in horror— as the kid after him manages to get it. you’re gonna have to hold kenma down before he hunts that kid with every bit of his soul.
DAICHI had a fat one coming in, that’s for sure. thought it was a free real estate just because everyone else in the camp seemed asleep. so he let that monster fart come out (even partly stuck out his thigh for better airway). whole team was awake in a matter of seconds. nishinoya’s jumped off his sleeping bag and asking everyone if they heard that “loud bang.” tanaka’s over here sniffing around because he knows that no one has got some kind of bomb that stinks.
SAKUSA’s not gonna admit to this one. but one time he opened a bathroom stall (it was unlocked) only to find that it was occupied. there are no words to accurately describe just how horried the sight was. sitting on the toilet was a man taking a shit, with his dick on full boner mode, staring back at sakusa. they only made eye contact for just 2 seconds but sakusa’s seen enough. he’s heard enough too, when said stranger asked him, “you wanna join me?”
ASAHI projectile vomited at the theaters. you should’ve known it was a bad idea to take him out to dinner before going to watch a scary movie. man had no courage to tell you he had an upset stomach nor tell you he’s not a fan of horror. it’s twenty minutes into the movie and he’s poking your arm— but you don’t notice because you’re too engrossed. another twenty minutes, and a jumpscare comes on. man beside you vomits like there’s no tomorrow. ya’ll spend the rest of the movie secretly trying to clean his throw-up.
TENDOU was watching anime in his dorm peacefully. until... the whole shiratorizawa team opened the door just in time for the show to switch up to an inappropriate scene. out of all the times they could’ve walked in, they really had to come when 2d clown man was moaning and fighting a kid? tendou scrambled to close his laptop but now he’s just staring back at his teammates; silent, except for the fact that his show is still playing and you can still hearing moaning in the background.
TSUKISHIMA turned his house upside down and still couldn’t find his glasses, nor his extra pair. he was about to leave bare eyed until his mom caught him and forced him to wear his sports glasses. yeah, the one with the whole strap and everything. mans looked like a fool coming to school with it on. people who didn’t know it was his sports glasses mistook it for swimming goggles. he’s so utterly humiliated now, he can’t even bite back when hinata or kageyama says something.
GOSHIKI... i don’t even know what to tell you. who let this kid go further into the lake by himself? it’s all fun and games for everyone until you hear an ear-defeaning shriek by your one and only goshiki. he’s yelling out, “help me! please! help!!” the lifeguards start kicking in and everyone’s trying to make way. is he drowning? is there something there? no for god’s sake. you find out he just made it 5 ft deep and happened to swim over a bunch of seaweed. never take him swimming again.
ATSUMU decided to check himself out using someone’s car window. he’s fixing his hair, picking at his teeth, and even checking to see if he has any boogers. all of a sudden the window rolls down and there’s a senior citizen staring back at him. “boy do you think my car is your mirror?” the man says in a gruffy voice. atsumu’s knees nearly buckle from how scary this man is and how embarrassed he is of all the four minutes he probably spent with this stranger.
SACHIRO’s job as a vet sometimes makes him do really questionable shit (from an outsider perspective). once he had to ejaculate someone’s dog in front of their owner. uh huh... jack them off, for the sole purpose of examining the dog’s semen. he’s never felt such a wave of regret wash through his body during that whole procedure. it didn’t help when the owner was looking at him mortified, nor the fact that it took such a long time.
OIKAWA does this thing were he shows up unexpectedly behind iwaizumi and slaps his ass. everytime he does it iwa always hits him back (but not the ass). today he learnt his lesson when he mistook a stranger for iwa and slapped the guys ass from the moon and back. when i tell you just how quick all the blood drained from oikawa’s body when the man turned around— you can hear a bag of chips fall at the other end of the aisle and it’s the iwa, who had to witness that whole ass-slap event.
ARAN is gonna knock the shit of the miya twins one day, he swears to god. they sent him a mysterious video during his morning walk, where he stopped at a busy street. it starts off quiet, so he goes to turn the volume up full blast. damn video suddenly started blaring ‘lick my pussy and my-’ please... he’s shaking. passerby’s are looking at him with distaste. aran’s now flushed from embarrassment and running towards the miya house. you can guess what happens next.
BOKUTO walked into the wrong house. spent a whole ten minutes rummaging around the kitchen because his friend said to “make yourself comfortable, i’ll be on my way.” little did this man know that there’s a whole family upstairs waiting for the cops to arrive because they think it’s a robbery. poor bokuto, dragged out of the house by some cops but had no idea what was going on. man was literally just vibing— thinking he was in his friends house.
OSAMU swore this size pants still fit him (hint: it doesn’t). he’s walking through the snack section of the store, lightly limping because damn his dick can’t breath. his truth is tested when he goes to pick something off the lowest shelf and his pants literally go, ‘let er rip.’ fabric tore, and what’s worse is that he was wearing onigiri undies. osamu goes to check if there’s anyone else in the aisle and there is— a group of underclassmen girls from his high school.
KUROO tried to make his chemistry presentation more interesting by putting in jokes. he thought they were funny; kenma even huffed a breath. kuroo’s at his third joke by now and literally no one has laughed. not a single one. except for kuroo himself, who’s awkwardly laughing in a dead-silent room. man was embarrassed. other people are getting second-hand embarrassment by the way they avoided eye contact with him. he vented to kenma later only for kenma to say, “it wasn’t funny. it was just stupid.” poor kuroo.
SUNA accidentally connected his bluetooth to the bus. you know, the one that drives all of inarizaki to their games. wanna guess what the fuck he might’ve been listening to? it’s porn. he’s watching porn in broad daylight. suna doesn’t realize what the issue is until he goes to turn up the volume and notices that the sound is off. he take his airpods off and that’s when he hears pure moaning sounds blaring inside the bus. everyone’s laughing— except for kita and their coach who’s still outside. mf calls himself lucky for that.
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choralmeres · 2 years ago
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Do You Believe?
msr. high school au. tagging @today-in-fic​
“There’s Fox, I’m so glad that they finally found Samantha.” He had heard someone say as he climbed onto the bus.
He frowned at the use of his first name; he never liked it, but everyone insisted on calling him it.
They had indeed found his sister, Samantha after she had been abducted; but he felt like some part of him had changed when she was gone. Many parts, actually. 
For one, he didn’t think that ‘some guy who wanted to get money from the Mulders’ abducted her, no matter how many times his father insisted. He thought it was... aliens. 
It did seem like a far stretch, but everything he knew so far fit a profile of an alien abduction.
He sat down next to Tom Colton, who immediately started talking to him.
“Now you can stop hanging out with the long gun men crowd.”
Mulder frowned some more. 
“Lone Gunmen.” He corrected. “And besides, they’re actually fun to hang out with.”
Tom studied him. “You really have changed, haven’t you?” 
He mumbled something that sounded like an ‘I suppose’ and then tried to look out the window- which was harder than expected, as he wasn’t sitting next to the window.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the person next to him from talking to him.
“It’s just sad that we didn’t get to sit at the very front- you know, how we used to control the windows and scare the girls?” And right on cue, the windows went down, and a large jumble of screams could be heard from the back. “Too bad they always move them a few seconds late.”
Suddenly, he felt extremely glad that he was not sitting next to the window, as he did not, in fact, know or remember.
He tried to make a small laugh that satisfied Tom and looked back, where the people were still squealing- and saw a redhead, nose in a thick science textbook, peacefully sitting, and definitely not paying attention to the people around her.
“That’s Dana Scully.” Tom told him after he noticed Mulder staring. “She transferred last month, but of course, you likely didn’t see her because your parents were too… you know.”
Well, it wasn’t like he was lying. His parents had made him go to school in their car, and made teachers keep an incredibly close eye on him after Samantha was taken.
Which basically meant that they had to surround him at all times. He didn’t like it, but it was either that or not going to school at all.
And school had a basketball court, unlike how his mother had conveniently taken away the basketball hoop a while ago because of a safety concern.
“Fox! Fox, sorry did I offend you?”
There were many things that Tom had said that were much more offensive than that, and he didn’t apologize for it- but Mulder decided not to tell him that. Instead, he went with a ‘fine, just thinking’ for a response.
But he supposed that’s what happens when your sister is kidnapped- even when she was found.
Tom went on again about how Dana Scully said no to dating him, and how she would probably say no to him too, but that he was ‘the most popular guy in this hellhole’ and might be able to.
He had to stifle a laugh at that comment. Everyone, even his parents had used that phrase before- something about him being able to do anything and everything because he was a popular guy, apparently.
Alright, maybe he was better than most people at figuring out who’s secret admirer was who, and of course basketball, but other than that, he was your very average person.
He reached over and rummaged his backpack to find something of interest to talk about, and it was at that moment where he saw Dana Scully look above her textbook and right at him, bright blue eyes and all.
“Am I?” He asked, quickly turning back around, as if her quick eye contact had made him suddenly interested in this kind of whatnot. “You know, still fairly well liked?”
“Sure you are, I mean, Diana still pines over you.” 
He groaned as the bus tires screeched, stopping in front of the school. “I didn’t mean that.” 
Tom had appeared to not have heard and made a very exaggerated shrug- and Mulder, suddenly remembering that everyone still probably liked Diana, especially Tom, and was thankful that he hadn’t heard.
However, Dana Scully certainly had, because he could see in the window reflection that she was making an odd facial expression which was a combination of a smirk and an eyebrow raise. 
Mulder was pretty sure it was that particular thing that made him walk towards her after he got off the bus.
“Uh, hi, Dana- er Scully!” He said rather awkwardly. 
She turned around and looked at him expectantly. 
“I’m-” he began.
“Fox!” A voice called. A voice who could only belong to a Diana Fowley. 
“I was so worried about you!” She said, rather falsely. “You know that you can always call me, right?” 
He nodded robotically- well, he would never describe himself as robotic in any other single situation, but he learned that this was the only way to get Diana off his back. 
A rather time consuming way, too, as Dana Scully had disappeared after Diana was done talking his head off.
...
The next time that he saw her was during lunch, and he specifically slipped out of the classroom a minute before the bell rang. 
She came out of the Science Building, a very wide grey-blue building, then sat down in front of it. He had never been in the building, as the subjects that he took so far were considered social sciences and therefore wasn’t in the Science Building. 
Now, he wished he had taken classes in the Science Building, he thought as he walked towards it.
“Where are you going?” Tom, just like Diana, had appeared suddenly behind him. What was it with these people and appearing behind people?
“I’m going to try getting into the Science Building- wasn’t it newly remodeled? Maybe I’ll take a look.” 
“Yeah, like eight years ago.” Tom scoffed. “And didn’t you already take physical science last year? In the social science labs? I don’t see why you need to go in there again...”
Ah yes, Mulder remembered how last year, the Science Building had a few sets of problems, and it was something to do with exploding Bunsen Burners during the summer courses, and they had to make temporary labs in the social science department so they could get their physical science credits. 
His mother had pushed very hard, after that incident, for him to go into social science instead. ‘There aren’t exploding Bunsen Burners in Psychology, Fox’.
And so he did, because Samantha had just gone missing, and he didn’t need his parents to worry any more.
Tom Colton also hated the Science Building, because one of his rivals’ parents had donated money to remodel and build it. 
“It’s not for the labs, Tom.” 
“Then what, the gun men crew again?” 
Mulder sighed as he saw a flash of red disappear back into the building. “I just want to see the building, there isn’t a problem with that, is there?” 
He then walked past him, and into the Science Building, not bothering to look around. 
“I’m Mulder,” He said after he found Scully. 
She raised her eyebrow, not commenting on his very out-of-breath state, which he was incredibly grateful for. 
“Scully.” She said, not moving from her spot three feet away. 
He then leaned closer and whispered, as if it was a secret, and he supposed that in a way, it was. “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” 
Mulder knew that he shouldn’t have expected too much from a redhead who raised her eyebrow quite often and carried physics textbooks, but surprisingly, unlike the time he asked his father the same question, he felt slightly less idiotic when the words flew out of his mouth.
Even when Scully’s eyebrow stayed raised, and even when she logically explained the holes in the stories that he shared.
So, he thought to himself, Scully definitely wasn’t a believer.
But he was. And he believed in extraterrestrials. He also believed in Scully.
Whatever that meant.
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tobesoalive · 3 years ago
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r u mine? (Jake Kiszka x reader)
hey guys...so this was fun to write, thank you to the kind anon who requested it! I currently have some fun (and steamy) Josh stuff in the works right now, but still feel free to send in requests! I might slow down a little with posting since my classes started, but I promise to get to every request! Enjoy my first Jake piece!
Warnings: SMUT(oral f-recieving, fingering, penetrative sex)
Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you headed down the hallway backstage, about to go out and face the crowd of thousands of fans. No you weren't a huge famous musician or anything, just their photographer. Basically the same thing right?
For the past three weeks you had been enjoying life on the road, it had always been your dream to be a concert photographer, and your work had caught the attention of a little band called Greta Van Fleet. Well, not exactly little. Their fan base grew everyday and now they were doing yet another headlining tour that they asked you to document. Over the past few months you had been in contact with the guys and their management, and you guys hit it off instantly, they brought you under their wing as if you were part of the family.
You basically were all one big family, you had gotten extremely close to the boys. Josh, Sam and Danny were like your brothers, and Jake...he was a little different.
Brother would be an odd way to describe him, seeing as you had a bit of a crush on him. Nothing super serious, you just thought he was a cool guy who also happened to be really fucking hot. You thought he might have a little something for you too, he was always asking you how you liked the show, and when he’d catch you editing the photos you took he’d sit himself right next to you and ask if you’d show him what you were working on. He was constantly complimenting your work, but that would mostly be in private, when he’d seek you out if he couldn’t sleep. You surely weren’t complaining, you enjoyed his company. You just wish he would say something, or even better, make a move. You could be taking his actions the wrong way, he does have tons of women who want him all around the country, maybe he does just think of you as a sister. Whatever thoughts you had about Jake you’d just push to the back of your mind, you had a job to do, and your work was more important than getting laid.
You went in front of the barricade and took some photos of the crowd and talked to fans. They liked to ask you questions about the guys and what it was like touring with them. You always tried to make them feel special by saying how thankful the guys were, which wasn’t a lie, to have such amazing fans.
All of a sudden you heard some of the fans start screaming wildly. They were chanting Jake’s name, and you turned your head only to briefly meet his eyes from the side of the stage where he was standing. Within a second he was gone, most likely rushing backstage to avoid any further commotion from the audience.
What was that all about? You thought to yourself. Did he sneak over there to just look at me? Maybe he wanted to talk or something. That can happen later, it was only a few minutes until the show started, so you wanted to snap a few more shots of the crowd before running all over during the show to catch the right angles.
During the show you had a great time, as per usual. You loved being right up front, taking photos of the guys doing what they loved. You went backstage to get some photos from the wings. Jake was about to do his signature move, playing his guitar behind his head, and you were ready to capture the moment. Right as you snapped the photo, Jake turned and winked at you, arms thrown behind his head, somehow managing to play the notes of “Highway Tune” whilst flirting with you.
Butterflies erupted in your stomach, and you felt an intense need for him. Quickly you ran back out to the front of the stage to capture a few more moments before the show was over.
“God fucking dammit, I’m in deep” you muttered to yourself, before heading to the green room to congratulate the guys on the awesome show. You slipped through the crew heading on stage to clean up the equipment, turning a corner and bumping directly into Jake.
“Oh sorry! Great job out there tonight!” you say, trying your best not to blush. What was wrong with you, it was like you were a school girl or something.
“Thanks y/n! Did you get some good shots?”
“No, I made sure to get really shitty photos, especially of you”
“Are you being sarcastic?! Now that is something new!” he teased you.
“I just know how much you enjoy my sense of humor! I like to give back to the fans y’know” you quip back, causing him to break out into a smile.
“Hey the guys and quite a bit of the crew is gonna head out and probably find a bar or something once we’re done cleaning up. You wanna join?”
“Thanks for the offer, but I might just keep it lowkey tonight, I’d prefer to edit the photos tonight so I can explore whatever city we’re going to tomorrow.”
“Totally understandable, well I’ll catch you later!”
“Yeah for sure!” you say as you go off to find the rest of the guys.
After about a half hour of chatting and checking in with the rest of your tour mates, you decided it was time to change into your pajamas and spend the rest of the night staring at your computer screen, trying to edit as many photos as you can before inevitably passing out.
Getting onto the bus you shared with some other crew members, you kicked your Vans off before checking to see if anyone else was around. Seems like they all were opting to go out after the show, which meant you got the whole place to yourself. You traded out your concert outfit for a pair of shorts and a hoodie, getting prepared for your lengthy editing session.
You made yourself at home on the couch towards the front of the bus, turning on your speaker and playing music as loud as you wanted, getting straight to work.
It had felt like only a minute when you heard a knock on the door, but after checking your clock you realized an hour had already gone by. You peeked out the window only to see Jake’s figure standing there.
“Jacob! What’s up? I thought you were going to the bar?” you said as you opened the door to let him in.
“That show wore me out”
“Yeah you did amazing, I mean like you usually do” you say, stumbling over your words and internally punching yourself. God you were not smooth at all.
“Seems like we are some of the very few who decided to stay back, I was getting lonely in that tour bus.”
“Well you’re always welcome here, I was just doing some editing.”
“Wow you’re a pretty big nerd aren’t you? You know you should take a break every once and a while, I feel like you’re constantly working.”
“Well it’s not that hard when you love your job” you tell him.
“I guess that's true, can I see what you’re working on?”
“Yeah of course” you say while making your way back to the couch, Jake plopping down next to you.
“Damn that’s fucking awesome” he remarks, looking at the image on your screen. It’s the one of him playing the guitar behind his head, and winking right at you.
“I know! Thanks for being such a good model” you tell him with a small laugh.
“The guys and management are really impressed with your work. We’ve already been talking about having you come on the European leg of the tour with us.”
“Are you for real?!” you ask in awe, giddy with excitement. You absolutely loved this job and the people, and the thought that you could travel the world to do it was a dream come true.
“Yeah, don’t tell anyone though, I don’t want to get my ass beat for it.”
“Oh my god Jake I could literally kiss you!” you exclaimed, before you had even realized what you said.
You tried your best to play it off before your thoughts were interrupted by Jake’s voice.
“I wish you would”
“Huh” you stop for a second before turning to face him.
“Listen y/n, I think you’re really cool, and you also happen to be really hot. Sorry, maybe I was interpreting things wrong. I just thought if you felt the same it might be fun. It doesn’t have to be anything serious, I just get lonely on the road and -”
Before he could say another word, you took it upon yourself to answer his question, leaning in to capture his lips in a soft kiss. You pull back and look him in the eyes, closing your laptop and setting it on the counter.
“God I’m glad you finally said something, I think everyone was starting to sense the sexual tension” you grin at him.
“Well all I could think about on stage was fucking your brains out, so sorry if I’m not too great at hiding it” he says before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss, to which you open your mouth to let his tongue slip in.
You move yourself so that you’re straddling his lap, your lips moving perfectly in rhythm as Arctic Monkeys played softly in the background.
“Wow it seems like you were almost expecting this to happen” he teases you.
“Shut up and fuck me Kiszka” you say before he flips you so you’re now beneath him.  
His fingers find their way under your shirt, reaching up to cup your breast. He pinched your nipple before quickly tugging at the hem of your sweatshirt.
“Can this come off?” he breathed into your mouth.
“Yes please” you said before he pulled it off you, exposing your bare chest to him. You felt very self conscious, it had been a little while since you had gotten naked with anyone.
“Hey don’t be shy, you’re gorgeous” he said before connecting your lips once more before he stood up to remove his shirt and shorts, leaving him in a pair of boxer briefs. You tried your best to not look at his growing bulge, but it was hard to resist.
Suddenly he was kneeling on the ground, body in between your spread legs.
“Jake you really don’t have to” “Oh trust me, I want to, '' he says before running his fingers up and down over your clothed core, moving his fingers to the waistband of your shorts, pulling your panties down with them.
“God you’re so fucking sexy” he mutters before expertly pressing the pad of his thumb onto your clit, his other hand pushing on your thigh to keep your legs spread.
“Fuck, Jake, I need more” you groan, your arousal now dripping between your folds.
“Don’t worry baby girl, I’ve got you”
Those words alone probably could have made you cum, but then Jake entered a finger into you, causing your hands to tangle in his long hair, slightly pulling.
“Goddamn babe you’re tight” he said, looking at you in awe before adding another finger and leaning down to toy your clit with the tip of his tongue. His fingers were pumping in and out of you at a steady rhythm, and every so often he’d curl them to perfectly hit your g-spot.
“Jake you need to stop or else I’m gonna cum” you say as you pull his head back, looking him in the eyes.
“That’s okay” he reassures you.
“No, when I cum I want it to be around you” you say.
“Fucking hell y/n” he groans out in a raspy voice.
You get up and kiss him before pushing him down on the couch, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. You tug at the waistband, and he lifts his hips up to assist you. You took a moment to admire his length before wrapping your hand around it. He was a couple inches above average, with a nice girth to him. His head tipped back in bliss as you continued to give him a few more strokes before positioning yourself above him, running his tip back and forth across your slit. Slowly, you sank yourself down onto him, taking as much of him in as you could.
“Fuck fuck fuck Jake, you’re really fucking big” you breath out, only able to fit about half of him in you at this angle.
“Just do what you can baby” he says before softly pressing a kiss on your forehead, telling you that it was okay.
You started moving yourself up and down on him as best you could, starting to adjust more to his size. The stretch burned but slowly started turning more pleasurable.
After a few minutes your legs were starting to hurt and his length slipped out of you.
“Will you fuck me from behind?” you blurt out, sweat running between the valley of your breasts.
“I’d be honored” Jake responds, offering a smile before getting up.
He moves you so that your hands are on the back of the couch, holding you steady and your knees rest on the edge of the sofa, sticking your ass out towards Jake. You can hear him move behind you, hands finding their way to your ass, before you feel him run his tip up and down your slit once again.
“Ready?” he asks.
You nod in response and instantly feel him push his way into you, letting you adjust for a second before pushing the rest of his length in you.
“Oh my fucking god Jake” you say as you bury your head in the couch cushions, his dick hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know was there.
“Oh god you’re doing so good baby girl, taking all of my cock.” he says as he begins to pump in and out of you, starting off slow but gradually picking up the pace.
It feels amazing, better than you had imagined. You wanted him to stay in you forever, make you see stars all the time. Within a minute you were contracting around him, nearing your edge.
“Jake I’m almost there, please faster”
“Me too baby, me too” he says as he starts thrusting even faster than before, wrapping his arm around you to toy with your clit.
All it takes is a few more pumps and you can feel him explode inside you, groaning your name loudly and leaning over your back, but still circling your clit with his fingers. It’s enough to bring you to your peak, walls contracting around him, burying your head in your arms. Once you’ve both come down you stay in that position for a minute, before he pulls out of you and collapses on the couch, pulling you into his chest.
“That was way better than I imagined” he breathes out, hand stroking your hair.
“Oh so you’ve thought about this before? That's embarrassing” you say in a sarcastic tone.
“Hey I’m sure you aren’t so innocent yourself” he says smiling down at you.
“We should probably get dressed, I’m sure your brothers and the other goons will be stumbling in anytime now.” you tell him as you get up and search for your clothes.
“You’re probably right. Hey, let's do this again sometime” he says, cheeks going red.
“Hmm...I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule” you respond, giving him a quick wink.
These next few months surely were going to be an adventure, and you didn’t want to miss a second.
288 notes · View notes
minimitchell · 3 years ago
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Thank you! I’m the one who asked about a ballum ff and there is no rush at all. It would include smut but that’s ok no 🙂 It would be Ben & callum travelling in a night bus (to somewhere) and they’d be in the very back of the bus and none of the other passengers would notice their little action time (bottom Ben straddling callum). There’s no plot lol. Callum would actually be asleep and Ben waking him, hands already all over him/under his shirt and he would have some convincing to do for Callum to be on board with it. Or something like that. Could include some funny/embarrassing moments (for Callum).Tx! .. no need to post this maybe. 😇 Or just call it the night bus request. 🚌 💕
the fantasy of you and i keeps me up awake at night (ao3 link)
sorry it took a while, anon, but here we go. also this is so outside my normal comfort zone for smut but i'm hoping y'all enjoy it anyway.
.
Taking a bus from London to Amsterdam might easily be the worst idea they have ever had.
The worst part is that there isn’t even a solid reason for them doing this. It’s not like they can’t afford a flight to Amsterdam, they definitely can. But for some reason Callum somehow managed to talk him into taking a Flixbus across the channel, just to save a few bucks. We’re homeowners now, he said. We should save money where we can, he said.
Ben kind of hates how easily he folds when it comes to his husband.
They’re about halfway through the hours-long trip, somewhere in France in the middle of the night, and the already quite empty bus is dark and mostly silent, except for that one guy near the middle who’s snoring like a small chainsaw. It seems like all the passengers are dead asleep right now - everyone except for Ben that is.
Him and Callum are in the very last row of seats; Callum in the window seat and Ben next to him. There are rows of empty seats in front of them, all the way up to the middle portion of the bus, so at least there’s some illusion of privacy. It’s definitely better than the bus being filled to the brim.
Callum is turned towards the window, a sweater bundled together to rest under his head like a pillow. He always does this on long journeys and Ben isn’t jealous of it at all, no way. He just wishes he could fall asleep in a car or on a train or on a plane, but sadly he can’t. Not like his husband can.
Ben has never been able to sleep in a moving vehicle. Ever since he was little he just couldn’t do it. It’s always too loud or not dark enough or he isn’t comfortable enough to fall asleep. Which is a pretty unfortunate circumstance when you’re trapped in a bus for hours on end in the middle of the night.
At first, he tried doing other things to keep himself entertained. He watched some videos on his phone, bothered Jay until he obviously fell asleep himself and then tried just looking out the window at the French countryside. Nothing helped alleviate his boredom and he certainly wasn’t going to spend the rest however many hours just sitting around here.
He needed something to tire him out or at least keep him occupied for some time.
And he has just the idea what that could be.
Ben leans forward into Callum’s space, letting his hand run up and down Callum’s arm, slightly shaking to get him to wake up again. He can’t have been asleep for long, or in a deep slumber yet, because he starts twitching almost immediately; that familiar crease between his eyebrows appearing like it always does right before he wakes up.
“Babe? Babe. Cal, wake up.”
There’s only a groan as a response, but Ben can tell Callum is well on his way to consciousness right now. Even if he’s probably still hoping Ben will just leave him alone if he doesn’t engage.
“What?”
Callum turns around to face him, eyes still stubbornly closed; almost like he’s planning on falling back asleep once Ben has told him whatever he wants to say. Not if Ben gets his way though.
“I can’t sleep.”
Ben can feel more than hear the annoyed sigh Callum lets out at that. He cracks one eye open, peering down at Ben beside him, and whatever he finds must convince him he’s not going to go back to sleep for a while, because the next thing he does is sit up straighter, opening both of his eyes now.
He’s probably used to it after well over two years with Ben. His inability to fall asleep on the road has come up time and time again since they got together. At first, Callum thought it was a cute little quirk; like you always do when you’re first falling for someone and everything about them gives you butterflies.
He still gets them now, the butterflies, but by now Callum is probably more than aware of the fact that Ben’s sleeplessness when travelling affects him as well. Because Ben expects to be entertained by him, or at least for Callum to stay awake with him.
For the most part, Callum is fine with that seeing as they’re never really going anywhere one of them doesn’t drive to but on rare occasions like this one, it’s pretty damn grating. Callum definitely knows they’re both going to be tired and grumpy when they arrive in Amsterdam and that isn’t really how he wants to start this little getaway.
“Have you even tried?”
Ben rolls his eyes in the dark of the bus, only illuminated by the passing streetlights outside. He’s glad it’s not enough for Callum to see his expression; he needs to be on his best behavior if he wants to convince Callum of this idea in his head.
“You could help me fall asleep, you know.”
Ben’s hand runs over Callum’s thigh and dips lower to the inseam of his sweatpants, fingertips brushing against his dick over the soft fabric. Callum doesn’t turn away from the touch, but he does lift his thigh a little so that Ben’s hand dislodges from his place against his cock.
“Ben! No.”
“Come on. No one will notice.”
He leans in close to whisper the words into Callum’s ear, making sure to dart his tongue out and trace along the lobe for good measure afterwards. He’s not above pulling out all the stops to convince Callum to do this with him right now. It might have just been a quick throwaway idea, but the more he thinks about the possibility of it the hornier he finds himself getting.
His hand dips lower again; fingers dancing up and down Callum’s shaft. This time, Callum lets him continue his actions; his dick slowly but surely hardening under Ben’s touch.
“Absolutely not.”
Callum’s protest is weak, his voice already way too breathless to be taken seriously by Ben. If he really were against this, Ben would stop immediately. But he knows his husband pretty well and he can read his body like a book. Every little reaction is telling enough for Ben.
It’s all the go-ahead he needs.
“S’not what your dick says.”
As if to prove a point, Ben tightens his hand, reveling in the hard intake of breath Callum does in response to it. He can tell his husband is trying his hardest to keep the noises in. So much so that Ben almost lets the desire to coax each sound out of Callum overtake him, damning any embarrassing consequences it could bring.
“Because you keep, hm, keep touching it.”
Ben barely manages to keep his gleeful laugh in when Callum pushes his leg out, opening his thighs wider and giving Ben better access to his dick. It means he can crowd in even closer and twist his hand just right, now firmly holding onto his husband’s length. Callum’s head tips backwards against his seat, eyes closing against the onslaught of arousal.
The taught, white skin of his neck is too inviting for Ben not to lean down and attach his mouth to it, trailing up and down.
“Ben, we can’t. Not here.”
Callum leans far enough back to catch Ben’s eyes. Ben thinks he’s trying to look stern and he’d probably succeed if Ben didn’t have his hard cock in his hand right now. The least he can do is offer him some relief.
Ben’s free hand runs up Callum’s chest, his fingers playing with the collar of his dark blue sweatshirt. He presses his nose back up against Callum’s cheek, looking up at him from under his lashes. There’s a smile playing on his face that always seems to come so naturally to him whenever he’s with Callum, even if he’s trying to be sexy right now.
“We’ll be quiet.”
“You’ve never been quiet in your life during sex.”
It’s a good point. An extremely good point considering how many pointed comments they received that period of time they were living at Stuart and Rainie’s flat. Or from Lola before that. So yeah, Callum does have a point when he says he’s not the quietest person during sex.
And it’s not like he can talk as well. Callum is incredibly noisy when he wants to be. Or rather, when he lets himself be.
Maybe Ben just needs to take it up a notch in order to get Callum on board with this.
“It’ll be a laugh. Come on, I know you, baby. You like it a little dangerous. Out in the open. Remember, I know all your fantasies, babe.”
It’s true. Ben had an inkling that there was a secret exhibitionism kink hiding behind Callum’s big innocent giant act when he had no qualms about getting hot and heavy in the park during their first intimate encounter together, but he had no idea just how much Callum gets turned on by the chance of them being interrupted or heard by someone else.
He isn’t opposed to the odd quickie in the car lot or at the Arches when Ben is supposed to be working and anyone could walk in at any time. There are times he gets his husband so riled up with little comments and strategically placed touches that he drags Ben into the toilets in the Albert to give his mouth and hands something else to do. And they’ve even revisited that park once or twice to pay a little tribute to the thing that started it all between them.
So he knows perfectly well that the thought of doing anything here, where any other person on the bus could easily wake up and figure out what exactly they’re doing, must be quite exhilarating for Callum. He can’t really play the purity card when Ben can physically feel him growing harder at his hushed words.
Like he said, he knows Callum. They’re open and honest about what turns them on and off, what they like and dislike. No one has ever known him as intimately and deeply as Callum does and Ben knows it’s the same the other way as well. Ben loves that.
It also means that he can pinpoint the exact second Callum lets himself give in and shifts into what Ben teasingly calls his sexy mode. It’s a win for Ben, for sure.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
Callum wraps his arm around Ben’s waist and tugs until Ben understands what he wants him to do. He sits himself square on Callum’s lap, legs resting on either side of Callum’s hips on the plush seats and fingers immediately finding a home in Callum’s hair, combing through the strands. He hasn’t had it cut in a while, too lazy to do it so close to their little holiday, and Ben can’t find the words to say just how much he loves it like this. He looks almost prince-like when it’s all soft and flat on his head and it’s the prettiest thing in the world to Ben.
“Thought you were gonna say I should be lucky I’m so fit.”
“Hm, that too.”
Callum’s smirk tastes a lot like bliss when their lips meet in a kiss, their tongues brushing almost immediately. Ben is trying hard to keep the sighs from escaping his throat, knowing they have to be quiet for this to go any further. But he can’t help it, kissing Callum is close to being the best thing he has ever gotten to do.
Even if he tried to convince himself otherwise at the time, Ben knew that first time they kissed each other that it was different with Callum; that it felt different with him. When their lips had met that night, he had felt it in his bones. Ben knows how rare it is to feel this way and Callum has never made him feel any different since.
Ben’s hands leave their place in Callum’s hair to travel down his chest, running over the soft fabric of his sweatshirt. He can feel the intake of breath Callum does when he reaches the edge of his sweatpants, fingers dipping under the waistband. Ben looks up to see if there’s any hesitation on Callum’s face, any sign that he isn’t one hundred percent on board with this, but Callum seems perfectly fine by the looks of it, with his eyes still closed like he wants to savor their kisses and the tips of his ears turning pink.
The grey fabric gets pushed down just enough for Ben to free Callum’s still hard cock, lazily sliding his fist up and down the shaft. Seeing Callum bite his bottom lip to refrain from making any noise at Ben’s actions fills him with a surge of heat that travels all throughout his body. Maybe they have to look more into this, if Callum’s inability to make much noise gets Ben so hot and bothered.
Right now though, he’s more concerned with getting himself undressed as well, just enough to get Callum in him. It’s a tight fit back here and Ben has to move around a fair bit to get his own pants far enough down to still be able to move on top of him. Ben has had sex in cars before so he knows how to maneuver himself, but a cramped seat on a bus is still vastly different from lying flat on your back in the backseat of a Ford.
They keep a small packet of lube in the side pocket of the backpack for situations just like this one and it turns out to be a godsend again and again, this time being no different. Ben is the first to admit he used to be a little bit slutty and while he doesn’t care for sex with anyone that isn’t Callum anymore, some remnants of that time in his life still remain. Remnants, for which having lube on hand at all times proves to be very helpful.
He’s glad Callum appreciates their spontaneity as well.
At any other time, Ben would let Callum open him up. His fingers are long and slender, thick enough to fill him just right, and they’re sure to drive him positively mad each and every time. Callum knows where and when to drag, to go fast or when to let Ben catch his breath to keep him teetering just on the brink.
But space is limited as it is and it’s easier for Ben to reach down and open himself up. Besides, seeing the way Callum’s face shifts into open hunger and desire as he watches Ben touch himself more than makes up for the lack of his husband’s fingers in him. There’s so much heat and open amazement for Ben in his eyes, it makes Ben breathless with want for the man in front of him.
The air around them feels thick and stuffy; charged in the best way possible. Ben keeps his lips firmly pressed together, effectively trapping in any sounds threatening to escape; his free hand digging into the skin of Callum’s biceps, making dents in the skin. They could easily be the only two people in this bus, in the world, right now. It feels like it; it always does.
Everything is zeroed down to just them when they’re together like this, like nothing else matters except for them making the other feel good. And he wants nothing more right now than to make Callum feel absolutely wrecked.
Ben detracts his fingers when he feels like he’s at least somewhat ready, reaching out to coat Callum’s dick with the excess lube on his hand. Before he can wrap his fingers around Callum’s length though, he’s stopped by a hand on his chest, causing him to catch his husband’s eyes almost immediately.
“Wait.”
Ben is about to climb down from Callum’s lap, thinking he has changed his mind about this and wanting to give him space, but Callum keeps him seated with a hand on his hip now. Instead, he’s leaning down himself, his other hand disappearing in the backpack still sitting in the space under their seat.
“What?”
The confusion doesn’t lift when Callum eventually finds what he must have been looking for, unearthing two condoms from somewhere in the bag. They obviously haven’t used condoms in ages but they still keep some just in case. Better than throwing them away, right? Ben just doesn’t understand what Callum wants with them now.
“I’m not about to get cum on this bus. And neither are you.”
Ben doesn’t really care about it, but he’s not going to start arguing with his husband when he’s this close to getting lucky. Callum could probably ask him to wear a clown costume and Ben would do it if it meant he’d get fucked by Callum in a timely manner. He’s that whipped for his husband’s dick.
He lets Callum roll the condom onto his dick, suppressing the moan clawing itself up his throat when Callum runs his fingers up and down the length of it for good measure. Maybe having to be completely silent while he’s getting laid is going to be more difficult than Ben had first thought.
Before Callum can put the condom on himself though, Ben stops him to do the honors himself, coating Callum’s dick with the excess lube still covering his other hand. He sinks down as slowly as he can, almost drawing blood from how hard he’s biting down on his bottom lip to keep quiet.
The fabric of Callum’s sweatpants is a stark contrast to his smooth skin and the feeling is simultaneously alien and exhilarating. They don’t have a lot of clothed sex, not like this anyway, and the almost foreign feeling against his bare ass is another stimulant for Ben’s already overloaded brain, all mixing together to create a mess of heightening arousal.
Ben eventually bottoms out, head tipped back and mouth open on a silent gasp. He can feel Callum’s heaving breaths where he’s pressed against him, his chest rising and falling in quick tempo.
“You good?”
Callum mumbles the words into Ben’s own shirt, pressed against his sternum. He sounds wrecked from just those two, little words; out of breath and completely wild. It’s one of the best sounds Ben ever got to hear; topped among other things only by Callum’s uninhibited moans when Ben makes him feel especially good.
Ben’s head tips back forward to nod at his husband, sealing their mouths back together when he begins to move. The rise and fall of his hips pushes sounds from him that he stifles by pressing his firmly-closed lips against Callum’s with all his might. Callum’s hands are fisted in Ben’s shirt, bunching up the back and wrinkling the dark red fabric.
It’s fucking good - it always is with Callum, better than anything he’s known before - but when Callum moves to adjust their bodies to meet Ben’s thrusts halfway, it becomes a little too good. On the next down movement, Callum thrusts up as well and the subtle change in their position means he’s now able to hit deeper, nudging right against that spot that makes Ben see stars.
Callum must be able to sense what this is doing to Ben, must be able to read his body and its tells better than he does himself, because he reaches around to clamp a hand over Ben’s mouth, pushing one finger in for Ben to bite down on it, nipping the scream that’s about to topple out of his mouth in the bud before it can be unleashed.
It would be a miracle if no one heard his moan, even muffled by Callum’s hand over his mouth, and Ben thinks they can really count themselves lucky if they didn’t manage to wake anyone up with it. He’d be more preoccupied with it, if he weren’t so trapped in the feeling of pure pleasure overtaking every nerve-ending in his body.
He’s panting hot against Callum’s hand now; heat spreading in his belly to announce his impending orgasm hurtling closer and closer. It doesn’t feel fair to Ben that he’s the only one struggling to contain his moans though; he thought Callum would have a lot more difficulties holding back.
It’s a good thing he knows Callum better than anyone; knows exactly what makes him lose control. It’s definitely a dirty trick to play but the whole reason they’re doing this right now is because they like it a bit dirty, right? So Ben doesn’t exactly feel bad when he lets one of his hands wander down to Calum’s chest, expertly finding his left nipple. He clamps his other hand over Callum’s mouth before he pinches his fingers, reveling in the way Callum’s hips involuntarily buck upwards in response.
Callum lightly bites the palm of his hand in retaliation and Ben can’t help but smile at it, even in the midst of heavy passion. He just really loves it when Callum is being silly and playful with him. Especially during sex.
The smile quickly dies down though when Callum’s free hand wraps around Ben’s cock, setting a punishing rhythm. Ben isn’t sure when this became seeing who can make the other come first, but he isn’t complaining. Not at all.
Not when it means he gets to feel that burning sensation take over his entire body, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the waves of his climax wash over him. He must pinch Callum’s nipple again in his haze of pleasure, because he bucks into Ben again once, twice before he’s also coming. The hand that just moments ago had coaxed Ben’s orgasm out of him now snakes around his middle to pull him closer into Callum’s body.
They’re so close they might as well be one entity, one sole person. Their hands fall from each other’s mouths, wrapping around any skin they can reach to unite the two of them in a tight hug. Ben tucks his head into the crease of Callum’s neck, waiting until the tremors subside and their breathing returns to a normal pace.
It takes a lot longer than Ben would like to admit for him to regain the feeling in his legs enough to dismount and fall into the seat beside Callum again. He has just enough brainpower to take the condom off and tie it, thankful for Callum taking it off of him because he would have no idea how or where to get rid of it right now.
He pulls his pants and underwear back up, trying to make himself look at least a bit presentable, but his movements feel slowed down; his limbs already being pulled under the mantle of sleepy exhaustion.
Ben is still too out of it to notice what exactly Callum does to get rid of the condoms but whatever it is, it only takes him a few moments until he leans back into the seat, putting on his own clothes again as well.
“You okay, darlin’?”
“Hm. Tired.”
Callum lets out a quiet chuckle, pulling Ben into his side, letting him tuck himself into his body. He’s definitely all too aware of the fact that Ben always conks out almost immediately after sex and Ben feels his eyes fall shut as soon as his head is pillowed on Callum’s chest.
The last thing he’s conscious of is Callum pressing a kiss to his forehead, mumbling something about getting Ben to shut up, before finally, finally, falling asleep for the remainder of their journey.
He’ll have to keep this in the back of his mind for the ride back.
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milkybunbuns · 4 years ago
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not just you → miya.a
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w/c: 1.1 k
warnings: Haikyuu spoilers - season 4, reader is a teeeeeny bit sadistic, smol bits of swearing
a/n: Pleaseee send in some requests, I am dying to write but I am inspiration-less at the moment haha. Rules for requests are here~ Also, I probably already forgot most of the stuff from season 4 so dialogue and stuff here is completely made up, with a few stuff from the anime intertwined :D Also I basically know nothing about volleyball so please ignore anything in here that isn’t right about volleyball lol.
-
Miya Atsumu was always well-known for his ability to wield two serves and his skills as his setter, so he was certainly taken by storm when you, just a mere first year, came onto the court.
“We’re finally here, after all that hard work”, you smiled gently grabbing the strap of your bag which contained a lot of candies.
“I know right! I can’t wait to go against Nekoma!”, Hinata grinned, jumping up and down excitedly.
Kageyama couldn’t be more sick and tired of the two of you, smacking Hinata as the two of you hurried to catch up to him. There on the blue courts were Inarizaki who were already busy practising, their setter Miya Atsumu setting for the other players as their libero and captain received the balls on the other side. Your team came just inside to see the twins in action, Miya twins, best volleyball duo by far. Honestly, unlike some of your teammates who were groaning to play against the second-best in the nationals, you were beyond excited, ready to crush them and see their defeated faces.
“Kageyama-kun, let’s go practice over there”, you pointed to one of the empty courts, all three of you headed over. Hinata and yourself took turns blocking and spiking Kageyama’s balls, while everyone else worked with Sugawara as their setter. You were far more experienced in volleyball and skilled, but it wasn’t that you were a genius like Kageyama, you worked hard and had a passion for the game.
Soon after, coach Ukai called the team over, speaking a few words before everyone bowed to the other team, thanking each other for the game. You shook your fingers out, getting rid of the nerves in them. The rotation was like this, in the front row, from left to right were Tsukishima, Hinata and Kageyama, then in the back row were Asahi, Nishinoya and yourself. You would be serving and you could hear the boos of the Inarizaki cheer team, yet, you ignored them. You focused on the lights in the ceiling, humming to yourself and mentally counting to 6. It was then that you made the approach, hitting a spike serve aimed directly at the corner, near their ace, Ojiro Aran, who was a bit more unsteady with his receives compared to some of the other players.
A few seconds passed before a loud cheer was heard from your team.
“YESSSSS! M/N-KUNN!”, your team yelled happily engulfing you in hugs.
The news reporters up on the stadium widened their eyes in surprise, immediately reporting to the cameras, “And Karasuno Highschool’s first year and former member of Shiratorizawa middle school has scored a no-touch service ace against the second place champions of last time, Inarizaki high!”
Fweeet!
The whistle rang again, but this time you counted to 4, jump floater serves required a bit more time and concentration than spike serves. As your fingers collided with the ball, you could feel it was going to be a good one, making you grin happily, watching as the ball glided shakily over to the other side, towards Ojiro again. This time, he received it, but way too off, the ball bouncing out of bounds. You watched gleefully as he covered his face with his hands, a gloomy aura around him while his teammates tried to cheer him up, patting him on his back. Heh, Atsumu-san, you aren’t the only one who can wield two serves, don’t get too cocky, I’ve seen your matches before, cocky little shit. The blond-haired setter of Inarizaki frowned slightly before a glint of determination flashed in his eyes. I’ll get more service aces than you...it’s not fair, im meant to be the only one who can do this...now i have to go against you and ‘samu.
“AND THE KARASUNO FIRST YEAR, L/N M/N, HAS SCORED A DOUBLE SERVICE ACE AGAINST INA HIGH! KARASUNO HAS A LEAD RIGHT NOW, BUT CAN THE FORMER CHAMPIONS CATCH UP!?” The crowd on Karasuno’s side cheered loudly, blocking out the ridiculously loud booing of the Inarizaki cheer squad.
“Nice serve M/n!”
1
2
3
4
You jumped and hit the ball, right back towards their ace yet again. It was a good idea to build pressure on him, seeing as he was one of the team’s highest scorers. Their libero quickly dashed in front of their ace and cleanly received the ball for their team, making you grimace at your failed attempt of a service ace. Atsumu set the ball for a black-haired boy, who you assumed was Suna, after watching plenty of their old matches. Kageyama and Hinata jumped up, but their block was easily avoided by Suna as he rotated his upper torso to spike around the block. Quickly reacting out of reflexes, you dived for the ball, hands flat like a pancake and managed to get the ball back up in the air. Kageyama quickly positioned himself under the ball and set to Hinata who, unfortunately, got completely blocked out by Atsumu and Suna.
----
After the match, where Karasuno had won an extremely close battle, you decided to wander around the halls for a while, having changed out of your jersey faster than everyone else. You turned the corner, spotting a mob of blond hair, leaning against the wall, earphones in and staring out of the window. You headed towards his figure, doing an experimental jab in his side.
“Argh! Who the fuc-”, he howled in pain, looking around angrily before stopping at you. All his anger melted as soon as he saw you, staring at him with the eyes of his captain.
“Y’know, you’re a cocky piece of shit.”
“Well ya ain’t any better, copy cat”, he sneered back, kind of shocked that someone just walked up to his, jabbed him and started insulting him!
“It’s not just you who can do whatever you do. You do realise?”
“Yeah, of course I do, who do you take me for?”
“Well then, grow up and accept that I am at your level, perhaps even higher. Stop sulking. It’s disgustin’ and reeks.”
“What’s with yer accent, it ain’t Miyagi accent.”
“Just mockin’ yer, hope to see you soon, Atsumu-san”, you turned your heel and walked out the hallway, leaving Atsumu to think about what you had just said. A moment later, his feet moved instinctively, rushing towards you and yelling, “YER CAN’T JUST INSULT ME AND RUN AWAY. NOBODY CAN DO THAT!!!”
But by then, you were boarding the bus home and he could see you peering out of the window winking playfully at him and pointing at his pants. Confused, he checked his pants, only to find a small folded up piece of paper with your phone number on it. Smiling, he rushed back to the rest of his team, hearing his captain call for him.
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hey-lady · 3 years ago
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Always To Be Loved
Started off as a headcanon and it became this. Enjoy!
Dr. Turner reminisces on the ones he has lost around the time of the birth of Baby Teddy. He recollects the birth of his first son, Timothy, and his relationship with his first wife and the barriers they faced. Marianne had made her wishes clear for her son early on, but what about her husband?
Read it on ff.net!
Read it on A03!
Patrick was surprised when he found himself quite sad at the prospect of Sister Julienne helping his wife through labor and subsequent delivery of his child. It was never because he doubted her skills,—in fact, he could not have chosen someone better for his wife—but rather it was because of Sister Evangelina.
Timothy and Marianne had been under the care of Sister Evangelina back in 1948. Marianne had had a difficult pregnancy filled with a bundle of prospective complications. They quickly came to the conclusion that if they could help it, Timothy would be their only child for the sake of Marianne. She had taken to this situation very poorly and quickly fell into a deep, unresponsive depression. Patrick found himself badly equipped at handling this situation. Her own struggle only reminded him of his pain during the time following the war which no one other than him and his doctors knew about.
Sister Evangelina was the one who noticed their struggle and quickly—and rather unorthodoxly—assigned herself to their case. She spent extra time with Marianne pushing her to continue in her life for her husband and baby's sake. Everyone was astounded by the amount of personal care that she put into the Turner case.
Sister Evangelina never told anyone, but it was because she noticed some distinctive behaviors in Dr. Turner; he would flinch at the mention of any possibility of death, his face would drop instantaneously when someone expressed mental distress due to the war, and he held an obsessive, perfectionist desire for care that if it faltered in any way would cause him to spend the next several days scrutinizing and berating himself.
It became wildly apparent to the Sister that Dr. Turner saw one of the soldiers he was unable to save in his own pregnant wife. In her eyes, it was clear that Dr. Turner had experience some sort of mental instability following his service in the war.
'What if I can not save her?'
This was question that flooded his mind each time Marianne slipped into one of her episodes or her or the baby's health took a turn.
Sister Evangelina saw her place to help and made sure to do so. When the time came for Baby Turner to make their appearance, Sister Evangelina took up her call to action.
Labor had begun close to dawn on a frosty November morning.
"Patrick. Patrick, wake up!"
Patrick awoke to find his sheets properly soaked in clear in amniotic fluid, and a terrified wife in the midst of them. Much to his concern, contractions did not arrive until about 2 hours afterwards, but luckily picked up quickly once they did finally begin. Nonnatus House was rung once the pains hit 5 minutes apart, and Marianne could no longer keep silent.
Patrick was frightfully uncomfortable. This certainly was not his first time seeing a laboring woman, but when it is your own wife. Well, it changes things. Nevertheless, he tried his best to coach her through the contractions the best he could with his stereotypical, well-practiced dialogue he said to all his mothers.
But she wasn't all of his mothers. She was his wife.
Although he rarely prayed and did not even know if he believed in God, he prayed today, and prayed that the midwife would hurry up already and take it from here. He was not strong enough for this. After what felt like eternity, but was more likely no more than 20 minutes, Sister Evangelina came knocking on their door, bag and dictating attitude in hand. In true character, he was promptly removed from the bedroom to allow for the women to do their work.
It was a grueling 18 hours of groans, whimpers, screams, and sobs before Sister Evangelina began to question if this baby would come without help. Sister Evangelina had let this labor go on much longer then she normally would ever allow, but she knew that a transport to hospital or even the maternity home would be traumatic for mother, baby, and father.
Baby was refusing to budge despite exhausting the list of solutions. Marianne was at her wits end and was no longer listening to Sister Evangelina or the back up midwife who had arrived several hours before for support. Every time they spoke to her she would thrash her head far back into the pillows refusing to listen to their words of encouragement or instruction. Patrick had stood post and been pacing outside the bedroom door for hours now smoking a countless number of Henleys.
He could not stand it any longer.
It had been hours. Many more hours than Sister Evangelina would ever allow. Enough was enough.
Patrick unceremoniously barged through the door making a beeline for his laboring wife.
"Out! Out! Out! Right now, Doctor!"
Sister Evangelina whipped her head around to see the doctor and was astounded at just how unkempt he looked. His usually pomaded hair was now loose and freed into its natural waved state. It was strewn in all ways across his head with several stubborn pieces falling directly in his face. His eyes were puffed and red and cheeks stained and flushed. All pointing to the conclusion that he had been crying for quite some time now and sleep had completely evaded him. Gone was his coat, tie, and vest, leaving him in a set of wrinkled trousers and a crumpled shirt that was missing cufflinks which forced him to roll it up his forearms. A small glimpse of his chest was provided due to the open buttons and loosened collar around his neck.
In a moment of exasperation and out of character, he pointed his finger towards Sister Evangelina and demanded,
"Absolutely not. You know better than I that she has had an extremely long second stage, and baby is not properly descending into the birth canal. It is in everybody's best interest that a doctor be present."
Even Sister Evangelina could not argue with that. Marianne's blood pressure had been wildly fluctuating, but with her skill and experience had managed to keep it stable enough.
"Pat…Pat? Are you really here?" Marianne whimpered from the mattress. Her hand weakly wavered up from the bed to reach out towards the direction of his voice.
"Of course, dearest. I'm afraid you and baby are having a little bit of trouble. I'm going to be here just to make sure nothing goes amiss."
All doubts of him being unable to handle this situation were out the window. He had to help. He had to.
"I trust you."
"I know you do."
It was at least another painful 45 minutes of breathing, panting, and pushing before Sister Evangelina announced Baby Turner's beautiful vertex was in view and carried an absolute head-full of dark brown hair to prove it.
Patrick was kneeling next to the bed face-to-face with Marianne as she was on her left side with her leg flopped over the Sister's shoulder. One hand was fervently stroking her sweat coated hair out of her face and the other was gripping her hand harder than she was as he coached,
"Breath, Mar, breath. Slowly does it, slowly does it. That's the stuff. You're doing so, so well, my darling." Insisted the 'doctor-who-was-present-only-in-a-completely-medical-capacity. "Let baby do the work. Let baby do all the work now. You've done so well."
"Crowning now, dear Marianne, your baby's head is crowning! Slow push now. Slow, slow push for us." Sister Evangelina coached. "Slowly! Slowly! Slowly! Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, marvelous work, my girl, marvelous work. Next one will do it for us. One more big push for us!"
Patrick looked up. His brown eyes were shining with unshed tears. He never anticipated to ever personally be in this situation. He had always doubted the institution of marriage after seeing the unfaithfulness and violence of his father. Discovering he had no interest in marriage or fatherhood throughout his younger years, he never sought it out. He did not necessarily turn his nose up at the possibility of one day experiencing it, but he had no expectations for it to ever come to him.
Patrick had met Marianne shortly after his release from the psychiatric hospital. She had taken quickly to him, and in desperation for stability, he followed suit. He was ashamed to admit that for the first year or so of their relationship, he did not love her. He used her. She was eager. Cheerful. Did not pry. And bluntly put, a distraction. Marianne knew this but did not mind it. She loved him and truly believed that he would one day as well. Believing this was his one chance, Patrick took the plunge and proposed after a long, yet stable, three year relationship. Patrick had grown to love her in his own way and was genuinely fond of her. It was not the sweeping romance shown in the pictures, but it was happy, and it was stable. Just what he needed.
They were married on a sunny July day in 1947 in the presence of all her family and friends and the small group of his. He was happy, but both of them were naive. They both ignorantly ignored the barriers between them. One of their most obvious barriers was physical.
He had become quite distant in their engagement. He never touched her—really. Only a hand on the small of her back guide her through a crowd. His hand to help her out of a vehicle or off a bus. Occasionally, when publicly necessary, an arm to walk with. Other than that, nothing.
Looking back, he realized that his past self instinctually knew that he was in the wrong. What he was doing to Marianne was not right. She deserved better. He had even tried to let her leave him. He was in no way worthy of Marianne. She was far, far too good for him.
"Marianne, I care for you. I do. Really. Which is why I'm telling you this. I am too much for you. To ask you to bear me and all of my burdens would be far too much to ask. If you want out, I won't be upset with you."
"Patrick…I…I am afraid I do not know what you want me to say. Do you want…out? As you so kindly put it."
"No….," He was lying, "I…I, Marianne, I just want you to be happy."
"I am happy. With you…Patrick," she sighed, "I have to marry you. I have to. Even if I did not want to, and I do! I am over 30 years old and unmarried. Forgive me, but you have no idea what it is like to woman who is unmarried in this society. I am so ashamed. My mother has made sure to tell me that unless I marry you now, I'll never have another chance." She dryly chuckled, "Apparently, I'm far too vocal than what men want. I'm afraid that the war changed me. I always have been, but the war made me quite independent, and I've had trouble letting go of that. You have been wonderful with allowing me that freedom. Patrick, you are a good man. A kind one. You're doctor and will be able to provide for me."
She became too choked up to speak , and tears that had been welling in her eyes began to fall. She moved to sit on the settee in her mother's living room. He slowly joined her; awkwardly, sitting on opposite ends of the piece of furniture. The silence was frightfully loud. Neither one could say how long the sat drenched in stillness.
He hesitated, "Marianne," it was his turn to sigh, "you're right. Certainly you are. I am sorry. It was wrong of me to bring this up."
Marianne shifted to look at him and scooted every so slightly closer to him.
"No! No, Patrick. I am happy you did. I do not expect for you to confess everything of your past. You are nearly a 38 year old bachelor. I am sure you have some things you may not to speak about, and I can respect that."
He moved to sit next to her reached to grab her hands.
"Mar, there is so much that you do not know about me. Things that I am not sure if I will be able to say out loud. I do not want you have to be exposed to that."
He never made eye contact and kept his vision on their now intertwined hands griping each other's.
"Pat…oh Pat…you need not speak about those things if you do not wish. But we can happy. The two of us. We can. Please believe me."
She pressed her forehead into his shoulder and breathed in his scent. He lowered own head to rest a top hers.
The engagement proceeded, and the wedding took place.
The physical barrier did not lower once they were wed. He had obviously touched her at their wedding: Offered his arm, held her hand, put his arm around her waist. And even at the end of the night as they prepared for bed, pulled her against his body, brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, licked his lips, and placed a solid kiss on her's. Nothing else happened after that though. Their marriage was not consummated.
They shared a bed. Only occasionally touching each other. He would kiss her cheek each time he left and returned from work. If they ever kissed on the lips, it was Marianne who pulled him down to her level, and it was never more than a swift peck.
Marianne was not a prude. She had worked during the war. Her friends made sure to provide detailed accounts of their liaisons. Her mother had had conversations with her before the wedding. She knew that Patrick was ignoring a vital part of their union.
One night she broached the subject to him. Her seated on the settee mending a sweater and him in his chair smoking a Henley while reading the latest Lancet. He had not always smoked Henleys. It started after his release after he had not been allowed cigarettes out of fear he might hurt himself. When he walked out the doors, the first stop he made was to shop to buy some cigarettes. He grabbed the first pack he could which happened to be Henleys. He never stopped after that; uncharacteristically believing perhaps it brought him some sort of luck.
"Patrick, may I ask you something?" She asked not looking up from her mending.
"Of course, dearest." He responded in the same distant fashion with his eyes not leaving the page as he took a long drag.
"Are you intimate with other women?" She asked finally lifting her eyes from the sweater to gauge his reaction.
His head shot up from the page. Eyes alight with fury and confusion. His body now visibly rigid.
"Marianne. What?" He tightly hushed.
"Are you sleeping with other women?" She repeated her query with insistence.
"Marianne, why would ask that? Do…do you believe that?"
He was angry. He smashed the small remnants of the cigarette he had been smoking into the ashtray on the table next to him.
"Not necessarily. But Patrick, I know that men have needs, and you never once sought relief from me. I know that perhaps I am not as attractive as other women around us, but I won't not lie to you, it is hurtful to think that you would throw your vows away over something like physical attraction. I thought you better than that. Besides I have never been…well…I have never partook in that side of things. I thought you might like that."
Patrick was almost physically sickened by the thought that Marianne believed that he cared about her purity. He had concluded long ago that that sort of thing did not impact his feelings, and he had absolutely no right or business to be passing judgement on what a woman chooses to do with their body.
"First of all, I will have you know that even if you had come having 'partaken' it would not change my view of you. Secondly, Marianne, I would never break my vow to you. Ever. I think and feel far too much for you to ever bring you close to a position like that. I obviously can not deny having not sought relief, as you put it, because of my own insecurities. I will spare the details, but all of my experiences were out of desperation during my younger years. I took…physical…pleasure of out them but the psychological toll was too much for me. I am afraid it has clouded my view of that side of things. I have learned to manage it. I-I-I am sorry, Marianne. I can not talk about this anymore.'
He quickly pushed himself out of his chair, moved across the room, and next thing she heard was the front door opening and loudly slamming shut. He spent the night in his office at his surgery.
Patrick returned the next evening with flowers in his hand.
Marianne was sitting at the kitchen table nervously moving her hands around each other. When she heard the door open, her anxiety only rose. His footsteps grew closer to her residing place, and as he came into view, his heart broke at her face. His wife. His young, darling wife thought she was in the wrong for inquiring about the obvious absence in their marriage. She had every right to know why he refused to consummate their union.
She rose from her seated position and they were standing an awkward distance from each other in the kitchen.
"Patrick. Oh Patrick. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. Forgive me. I had no reason to pry you about that. It was completely my fault." Marianne sputtered out quickly before he could say anything. She began shaking with silent sobs and moved to cover her face.
Patrick laid the bouquet down on the counter and intercepted her rising arms and pulled them to wrap around his torso. He wrapped his around her shoulders and tucked her head under his cheek as she cried even harder.
"Marianne, I will hear no such apology from you. The only one who needs to be apologizing and is at fault is me. I have been terribly selfish and ignored your own feelings and needs. You have absolutely every right to ask about the intimate side of our relationship. And even though you do not need it, I give you outright permission to pry about how I am fulfilling my desires."
She hesitantly moved her head from under his and moved to look up into his face. Her eyes were frightfully swollen and red. Much more so than if this would have been the first time she had cried. Brownish, purple rings under her eyes testified to the fact that she did not rest well, if at all, the previous night. She sniffled before she quietly spoke.
"Patrick, I never meant to upset you. It's just that I want to make you happy, and I know that you're not like other men, but you are still a man. And…it's just that…ah…my mother…how do I say this?" She had lowered her gaze to look at his lapels. She squared her shoulders and moved to remake eye contact before saying. "She told me that you would most certainly seek my body as a release and that I should be amenable. I want to help you. Please."
Patrick sighed. His heart broke even more than it already was at the thought that this magnificent woman believed that their intimacy would be a chore for her. It was exactly what he was afraid of.
"My dear, it is my hope that if and when we do become intimate," she shivered in his arms as his voice lowered in his register and became graveled, "that you will derive as much satisfaction as I will."
"That's possible?" She was practically red and uncomfortably shifting in arms from embarrassment. "I am afraid I do not even know what you will get out it. I am terribly unaware of these things."
He cracked a rather sensual smile before lowering it his forehead to rest on hers and said, "Oh it most certainly is."
She sheepishly smiled back and pressed further into the embrace before began moving her gaze to his lips. Patrick noticed shift and took initiative.
He moved his face so that his lips pressed firmly against her smooth, rosy ones. His knees practically buckled when she gently moaned into his. He parted her lips and tongues briefly caressed each other before he pulled away, breathed shakily and rasped, "Marianne, dearest, as wonderful as this is, I am not quite ready to go there. I am sorry. It is completely me. Not you in any way."
She a bit disappointedly looked downwards before looking back up with a wry but gentle smile and said, "Of course. When you are, you know who to ask."
They both softly chuckled at her jab.
Their marriage was consummated 7 months after their ceremony. It had been unexpected when it did finally happen and had in no way been planned or anticipated. Since that evening shared the kitchen, the couple had gotten more comfortable and frequent in sharing kisses. In the weeks leading up to the main event, Patrick had begun to let his hands wander—not too far, but enough to be suggestive.
It had begun in the same way and simply put, it did not stop.
Patrick slowly pulled back to break their passionate embrace.
"Oh Pat…Pat, please…Pat, please, no." Marianne muttered. She moved to pulled him back to her lips.
"Marianne, are you sure? Are you ready?" Patrick was taking no chances with this and wanted a clear answer.
"Patrick! Am I ready? Of course I am. I believe the question is, are you?" She breathed out.
He was.
Things naturally progressed from there.
It was difficult for them. Marianne quickly discovered that certain parts of their marital relations caused her a fairly great deal of discomfort despite her desire to experience and provide it. Patrick was wonderfully patient and sought to make her as comfortable and satisfied as possible. It was disheartening for her regardless of Patrick's insistence that she was completely blameless in all of this, and he was still happy with their marriage both inside and outside of their marital bed.
Patrick had his suspicions of whether or not there was a medical explanation for this, and his hypothesis was only confirmed as her pregnancy progressed.
Somehow the thought and prospect of children had never crossed his mind until she started to become quite unwell in spring of 1948. She would be awoken almost every morning by nausea and vomiting that would return in the evenings, and would often return home to her squatted in the kitchen or living room experiencing dizziness or lying on their bed with a headache. It embarrassingly took him several days to put it together.
He glanced over his shoulder find the empty spot in his bed that normally occupied his wife. Before he could question her absence, he heard it: vomiting. As a doctor, he was all too familiar with the sounds of gagging, dry heaving, and vomiting to the point that he found himself barely phased.
Patrick rose from the bed and made his way into their bathroom to find Marianne hunched over the toilet trying to empty her stomach—except there was nothing to empty. He lowered himself on the ground next to her before gathering the hair that was grazing her face. She eventually shifted her face so that her flushed, yet pale, cheek rested of the cold seat of the toilet.
"Nothing is coming out," she croaked, "I honestly wish that something would come out. Maybe I would feel somewhat better."
Patrick only pushed her damp hair behind her ear and began to stroke her cheek before asking, "Would you like me to make an appointment for you to se if there is a problem?"
Marianne's now closed eyes slowly opened before she raised her head and gently smiled at her husband. She could not help but be a little amused at the sight of her dear husband seated on the tiled floor of their bathroom with his wavy mop of a hair wildly askew looking worried and unconvincingly confused.
'Mmm it never does seem to want to corporate, does it? Somehow it fits him though.' She indulged herself with the thought.
She stared at him and murmured, "Patrick, don't act like that. You know what's wrong with me. Don't think I don't see you looking at me differently. You've known for weeks. You probably knew before I did!"
He bashfully averted his eyes down to the tile floor before querying, "How long have you known?"
"A week. I have wondered for about 3 though."
"A baby."
"Yes."
"I suppose they're right. Only takes several times—once really."
"You would know better than I." She countered. "Pat," she reached to caress and stroke his cheek with her thumb, "I hope this is alright."
"We don't have much choice do we?"
"I'm afraid not." She whispered to him. Marianne hesitated, "But this could be good. This could be really good. Yes?"
"Of course it can," He was surprised to feel himself grinning, "As long as the baby is like you."
"No! I want him to look and act just like you."
"Him?"
"Yes. Him."
And now they were here. Patrick stared at the midwife who just announced that his baby's head was resting in her hand. His baby was about to enter the madness of the world that they called home.
Patrick snapped back and turned to his laboring wife who was whimpering into the pillow absolutely exhausted.
"Mar. Marianne. Marianne, darling. Baby is about to be born. Our little baby is about to be here." He was so proud. "We only need one more big, big push from you." Patrick was practically begging before the next contraction arrived, "I am so proud of you. So, so proud."
Unsure if she even heard him, he looked back down to the end of the bed where Sister Evangelina resided. She looked conflicted.
"Sister?"
"If you utter a single word to a single soul about what I am about to do, you will live to disdain the very day you were born."
Patrick bewilderedly started at her before she motioned for him to join her. He glanced at his wife and realized she was so exhausted she would not even notice the absence of his hand. He quickly shuffled down.
"Finish us off then."
Sister Evangelina backed away leaving him to handle to rest of the birth on his own. Her contraction began as her whimpers turned to groans. With no time to waste, Patrick became Dr. Turner.
"Marianne, big push for us. One more." Tears were pouring down his cheeks as she encouraged her. "Come on. Yes! Yes! Bit more. Little bit more! That's it! Oh…oh…oh Marianne!"
His baby.
His son.
His son was now wailing in his arms making it abundantly clear that he was not pleased with the harsh change in temperatures upon his arrival into his father's arms. Patrick was weeping. Absolutely, positively, completely weeping over his son that was held in his hands. Tears poured down his cheeks and slid down his chin onto his neck. Several probably landed somewhere on the baby.
He was tiny. So very, very tiny. He was a normal size for a newborn baby, but Patrick could not help but be struck by the fact that this small creature was encased in his two hands.
'What a privilege.' He thought.
And then he remembered his wife. His wife. His wonderful, brilliant, magnificent wife who had carried, nurtured, and birthed this child. How could he forget?
"Marianne, we have a son! He is so, so beautiful!" His voice was thick with tears.
Marianne had suddenly been revitalized at the sound of her baby's crying. She had flopped over onto back. Nightgown hiked up around her waist soaked with sweat, fluid, and blood. Legs wide open. It mattered very little to her as she reached for her son. Her arms were aching to hold him.
"The cord, Doctor." Sister Evangelina intervened the touching moment. He chuckled at his forgetfulness and glanced up at the Nun to find tears filling her own eyes. As she leaned in to take over from him, she moved so that her face was directly in line with his grinning profile. She warned into his ear.
"Just so we're clear, Doctor, everyone outside of this room will be under the impression I delivered this baby."
He only smiled wider and grabbed the clamps she was offering and swiftly cut the tie between mother and baby that had sustained and formed his son.
He quickly swaddled baby up in a towel that was placed on the bed for that very purpose and moved to place their son on his mother's chest. Her arms were outstretched and an absolutely beaming and glowing smile plastered her face as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Had he ever seen a more beautiful sight?
His wife holding his son.
If he had doubted it in the past, now he was certain: he was hopelessly in love with that woman.
He had just watched her become the mother of his child.
How could he not love her?
"Oh my dear. Oh my darling." Marianne was crying over her baby as she tried to soften his own. "I want you always to be loved."
He would.
Patrick sat back as he remembered that moment. One of the happiest moments of his life. Timothy was his saving grace after Marianne died. A gift from her.
It was when Timothy was around 4 years old when she first began to have issues. Her cycles became longer and more painful. Timothy had to start going to nursery daily for about a week and half as she became incapacitated.
She never really opened up to him about it. He often later blamed himself for not prying more and possibly intervening sooner. He obviously knew something was awry and begged her to go and see a specialist. She refused to even let him examine her and certainly had little desire to inquire further.
For 3 long years, Marianne suffered in agonizing pain often undermining her discomfort for the sake of her husband and son. Timothy knew no different and simply understood that Mummy was sometimes quite poorly. In those times, he would go to nursery, with Daddy to the surgery to play in his office, sometimes even to Nonnatus House to spend time with the nurses and nuns, and to Granny Parker's to be showered with love and cakes.
Her diagnosis was clear and obvious once she finally relented to help after the insistence of Sister Evangelina.
"You are hurting your son by not caring for yourself. You know better than this."
Uterine Cancer.
It was a result and explanation of a slew of issues she had experienced throughout her late 20s and 30s.
Patrick was absolutely ashamed to not have noticed it sooner. Perhaps he had, but just did not want to accept it.
He did not want to think about her death. Not right now. His current wife, his darling, darling, darling, Shelagh, was about to give birth to their third baby any day now.
He could not help but be reminded of his first wife though. Sometimes he wondered if Marianne was watching over them. Ironically, he had always called Shelagh his "Angel" and not Marianne. The latter would make more sense technically. Yet, he had occasionally pondered if Marianne had actually sent Shelagh to him and Timothy.
Marianne had made her requests clearly known during her departure.
She had been sleeping almost constantly, likely due to the large quantities of morphine coursing through her cancer-ridden body. The end was very much near.
Patrick refused to leave her side. Clinging to her hand. Holding it to his face and heart. He knew she was leaving him and yet he refused to accept it. He could barely fathom that there had been a point in his life where he was with her and not utterly in love with her. As soon as he recognized it, she was leaving him.
"Patrick?" She rasped, barely audible "Pat…Pat? Are you really here?" Marianne gripped his hand with the most strength she could muster.
"Of course, dearest. I'm afraid you're having a bit of trouble. I'm going to be here just to make sure nothing goes amiss." His face crumbled into pieces as his sickeningly remembered the last time they had said those words to each other. There would certainly be no baby at the end of all this. He clung tighter to hand and pressed his fervently to his wet cheek.
"Patrick." Her eyes were surprisingly cognizant and fierce. "Patrick, you must promise me something. Please. For my sake. So I can rest easily."
"Marianne. Oh, Marianne…Mar…please don't say that."
"We both know it's true. You know better than I." She managed a wry smile remembering yet another moment they shared.
"Find her."
"What?…Who?…Marianne, who are you talking about? Your mother? She's looking after Timmy. I can get her." He began to rise from the chair to summon his mother-in-law.
"No, Patrick." She forced him to stay and somehow managed to grip even tighter to his hand.
"Find her. The one who you're meant to be with. The love of your life. Your soulmate if you believe in all that."
"Marianne, what are you talking about? You're right here—"
"No. Oh no, Patrick. No, Patrick. We both know I'm not that woman. Perhaps you're mine, but I'm not your's. I can see it. I can feel it. I always could."
Deciding an argument would most definitely not be a good use of the little time they had, Patrick made an attempt at a joke through his tear coated voice.
"You'll have to help me then. You know how bad I am at missing the obvious when it comes to my personal life." He choked out with a wet smile. Her hand was now covered in his salty tears.
She smirked.
"Oh. Oh, I will." She looked up at the ceiling that was behind his head convivially, deep in thought.
"Maybe I'll make her fall. Injure herself." Marianne was beginning to wheeze but managed to continue. "Nothing too serious. No, that would be wrong of me. Enough for her to need your medical expertise. Knowing you though, that would not be enough." She moved her head back to establish eye contact with him before whispering. "Perhaps I can arrange a reason for her to be sent away as soon as you realize and cause you to spend your days and nights pining and longing for her. Mmm…yes, I think that will do best."
They managed to share a small laugh.
"And where will Timmy be in all of this?" He humored her.
"Oh he'll be painfully aware of what's happening." Her face fell as it became serious. "She's going adore him. My little Tim. Oh." Tears of joy begin to rain on her cheeks "Oh. She'll love him so much. I'll make her forget sometimes that he's not her's…He'll never forget me though. I know it."
"No. He won't. I won't let him."
"Good. Good." She smiled again. "And I think I'll see if I can't find some siblings for Tim."
"Siblings? As in more than one?"
"Oh yes. A whole brood of children." She held her eye contact with his tear glistened brown ones.
"Promise me, Patrick. Find her. Promise me right now."
"Marianne—"
"Patrick, promise me. Cross your heart right now."
"Alright. Just for you." He put his right hand over his heart. "I promise."
"Thank you."
Sister Evangelina had been there with him as Marianne left the world. Just as she had been when his son entered the world. Once again she had been there to help guide him through the waters he had never anticipated in drowning in. It was ironic, poetic really, the two of them sparred more than any other midwife he had ever worked with. And yet, there she was, by his side.
When he had proposed to Shelagh and word spread through Nonnatus, he avoided her. Out of complete and utter fear.
One day though, she called him out to a delivery. Classic case of forceps. All ended well and as they were cleaning up and leaving, the inevitable arrived.
"So. Dr. Turner, how is Shelagh?"
"She is quite well. I'll be sure to tell her you asked after her. She will appreciate it."
She pursed her lips. He feared for his survival.
"Doctor…I need know only one thing."
"Yes?"
"Do you love her?"
"She's the love the of my life, Sister."
She cocked an eyebrow, smirked, nodded, and moved on with her day. She did not let him off the hook. Oh no. She took every chance she got to make a comment about the doctor taking one of her sisters.
Patrick brooded over his cup of tea as he remembered several other memories with Sister Evangelina. His discovery that she spoke to Shelagh about her infertility, her first visit to meet their Angela, his hearing about her health issues, her stroke, and most difficult of all—having to be the one to pronounce her death. The only one harder than that one was Marianne.
That was a memory for another day. Sister Evangelina would most certainly not be pleased with him spending this much time remembering her. She might condone his late wife's memory, but her certainly not her own.
Instead, he smiled down at ring that now was housed on his left hand.
'Yes.
Sister Julienne is a most appropriate choice for my Shelagh.'
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jawritter · 4 years ago
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Life Of The Party
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Summary: A game of truth or dare gets’s really interesting, when alcohol is involved. 
Pairing: Rob Benedict x Reader
Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​
Square Field: Rob Benedict
Word Count: 1410
Warning: Implications of past as well as future smut, oral (male receiving), alcohol consumption, mentions of being drunk, language. This one is pretty much porn, not sorry. 
A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes are mine! This is my first ever Rob x Reader fic, so please be nice lol. Feedback is golden, do not copy my work! I hope you all enjoy this one!
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“Okay Y/N, truth or dare,” Richard asked, staggering into your circle of friends in his living room with an open bottle of Crown, and a bag of popcorn, flopping down with an exaggerated grown next to Jared, who chuckled at the thought of what he was gonna do to Richard when he passed out first as usual.
“Dare, pick dare,” Misha drunkenly whispers yells, elbowing you annoyingly. 
“Okay, okay dare,” you growl, swatting at Misha, who promptly falls off of the cushion he was only half balanced on, causing Jensen to snort out a laugh into his own red solo cup. 
“YAS QUEEN!” Richard yells, slapping his hands together, and giving you a mischievous grin that seriously made you a little uneasy. 
Richard had flown Jensen, Misha, Rob, Jared, Briana, Kim, and yourself to his house as soon as the quarantine was lifted in order to have a friend’s get together/Christmas celebration now that people were safely able to be in the same room with each other again. Richard’s parties were always a promise of two things, a good time you all hoped no one would remember in the morning, and a damn horrible hangover the next day. 
“Okay, okay, you have to go in that room back there where Rob is having a pity party for himself, don’t say shit, just drop down on your knees in front of him, and suck him off,” Richard slurs. 
Misha pops up off the floor like a gopher out of his hole, and Jensen nearly chokes to death on his drink, while the others laugh at their reactions. Briana slaps Jensen hard on the back as he sputters, and Richard keeps locked eyes with your completely shocked face. 
“Can’t I just go flash him or something?” you whisper to the circle in front of you.
Richard shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest. “Nope, you either go in there and blow him, or you have to tell us what happened between you and Sebastian at Comic Con last year.”
Your ears burned and you knew you were blushing. The whole circle seemed to perk up at that little bit of information. You had told Richard about that little hookup in confidentiality, but apparently, alcohol brings forth loose lips from your extremely drunk friend. 
You weren’t about to throw Sebastian under the bus like that. Plus you don’t know if he wanted it out that he’d fucked Jensen’s PA at Comic Con. 
“Fine, fine,” you grumble, getting off of the floor with a huff. 
“Well, next time I’ma go sulk in a back room over my ex, then maybe I can’t…” Jensen started, but before he could finish Briana elbowed him hard in the side, “Ouch!” 
You chose to ignore his comment and tried to calm your nerves, crossing the floor to the bedroom door. An eerie silence had fallen over the room behind you, and you knew everyone was watching.
“Remember Y/N, not a word, just do it,” Richard said. 
Man, you hopped he didn’t freak out on you. Rob had been friends with you ever since you started working for Jensen as his PA when he took on a new role with the boys, as well as his new production company. It was a big workload, and he needed the backup. It was the best decision you had ever made. It opened up a lot of doors for you that you never thought you would have opened, but it also gave you friends you would cherish for a lifetime. 
Opening the door to the room you see Rob sitting on the edge of the bed with his phone in one hand, and an open bottle of beer in another, taking a deep swig as he turns his head to look at you from where he was gazing out of the window.
“Hey, Y/N/N,” he smiled at you as you closed the door behind you, slipping the lock to prevent them from getting too curious and coming in for proof. 
You cross the floor with your heart pounding against your rib cage, coming to a stop in front of him, and placing your finger to your lips, shushing him as you wink and sink down to your knees in front of him. 
You watched confusion flashed across his face as your hands slipped sensually up his thighs, making their way to his belt, undoing it quickly and lowering his zipper before he had a chance to react. 
“What...What are you? Oh, God.”
Reaching inside his pants you quickly remove his flaccid length stroking it in your hand and blowing lightly across the tip, smirking as his hips jerked in response, and his cock started to swell under your administrations. 
“Oh my God,” he murmured, quickly undoing his button and swatting you away only long enough to shove his pants and boxers down in a hurry. You bit your tongue, desperately wanting to respond with, “I thought you went by Rob now,” but remembering you weren’t allowed to speak.
By the time you took him in your hands again you were pretty impressed at the fact he was already fully erect, and already forming a little bead of precum at his swollen tip. Even more impressive was the sudden need you had to taste him.   
You had always thought Rob was cute, but you had never really seen him that way, not until this point. 
Giving him your best doe-eyed look you slowly run your tongue all the way up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, stopping to tongue at his slit, your own pussy clenching around nothing at the little moans that were already falling from his lips as his eyes closed and his head lulled back; the salty taste of precum invading your taste buds as you hollow out your checks and swallow all of him that you could until you were nose to hilt with him. 
“Holy shit,” he groaned, grabbing your hair and moving it out of your face as you bag to bob up and down his shaft, licking, sucking, and jerking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth as you went. 
You never expected this to turn you on the way it did, but damn. The weight of him on your tongue was downright intoxicating. It didn’t take long for his legs to start shaking, and his breath to come in short, uneven bursts as he got closer and closer to his release, his hips moving along with the pace you had set. 
You could tell he was close, right on the edge, all he needed was a little push to get there, and you had a feeling you knew just how to do it. 
Carefully you slip your left hand under his quickly tightening sack, massaging slowly, pulling more strangled groans from his lips as his legs tightened and jerked, almost there, but still not quite falling over the edge. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you hollow out your cheek and swallow him whole in one goal, gagging slightly around the tip, that was all it took for him to spill into your waiting mouth, and you eagerly sucked down all he had to give until he couldn’t take it anymore. 
Rob sat on the bed, wide-eyed and panting as he slowly got to your feet, carefully wiping your mouth because, well, dammit you were a lady after all, and giving him a wink as you head towards the door. 
“Merry Christmas Rob,” you say as you grab a hold of the doorknob, knowing damn good and well there was a crowd waiting outside the door because you heard them shuffle away at the close sound of your voice. 
“Merry Christmas Y/N,” he replied, voice much higher than normal. 
You exit the room grinning only to find a very disgruntled Jensen standing not far from the doorway. 
You remember his previous comment as you cross your arms in front of you, leaning against the doorway, more than a little riled up from the task you just completed, the alcohol making you braver than what you would have been normally, and after all, it was a party. 
“Truth or dare Jay,” you say with your best devilish smirk, one that he quickly returned, taking a deep swing of the whiskey bottle he was holding before pinning you to the door frame. 
“Dare.”
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cotncandyboifics · 4 years ago
Text
1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 9
AO3 Link
Masterpost
Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~
Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality
Word count: 2,043
Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.
Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.
Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.
Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.
what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?
General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)
Chapter CW: swearing, food/meal mention, (let me know if i missed anything please!)
Author notes: the massive amounts of gay panic. this chapter was fun to write
...
Roman returned to find his room far less lively. The tall nerd and the short puffball have seemingly disappeared! Of course Roman knew they'd likely just gone home, but what fun is life without a little exciting drama?
The only one left was Virgil, who was curled in on himself on Roman's bed, a pillow in his lap and phone in his hands yet again. Roman sighed dramatically, sprawling out beside his darkly dressed counterpart.
"Is this what they meant when they said 'get a room?'" He commented after a long boring silence, waggling his eyebrows when Virgil looked at him with wide eyes.
"Oh shut up," Virgil looked away, slamming his pillow into Roman's face in a fit of deja-vu.
"Oh come on! Look up the word joke in the dictionary, Jack Smellington!" Roman said exasperatedly. Virgil shook out his luminescent hair, which was now out of his hood and proudly on display. Roman couldn't convince himself to look away.
"As much as I appreciate being compared to one of my favorite Disney characters, that was a bit- what?" Virgil looked at him confusedly, and that's what finally got Roman to look away.
"Nothing." He said shortly. He considered apologizing, but he figured that would make him look worse. Virgil just laughed lightly, not awkwardly. Mostly to himself about Roman's dorkiness. Roman felt his face heat up, and hated himself for it.
"Well, I should probably get home..." Virgil flopped back onto Roman's bed, stretching his arms out above his head. his shirt lifted slightly to follow, and Roman caught a glimpse of his navel, as well as some impressively sharp hip bones, and the very gentle start of a V-line. He forced himself to look away that time. Getting caught looking at someone's hair is one thing, but... but that, was something else entirely. Roman was already in dangerous waters, and he knew it.
"Ehem, well, I know you denied me last time," Roman began, flopping down beside Virgil and looking up at his pride flag, "but the offer of a ride is still up for grabs. Unless you'd rather be stuck on the bus at night for half an hour." Roman crossed his arms over his chest, and Virgil sat up to lean over him. He nearly opted to retort and deny the offer more snarkily than last time's failed attempt, but...
Roman's eyes. He'd never been close enough and calm enough simultaneously to really look at them; they were a deep melted milk chocolate brown, and held nearly imperceptible flecks of shining red. Virgil's eyebrows knit together, and he leaned closer to look into Roman's eyes more properly.
He didn't realize what he'd done until he'd started to reach down, almost putting his hand on Roman's cheek, and Roman made a small squealing noise to go with his completely tomatoed face. Virgil gasped slightly louder than he'd meant to and immediately recoiled.
"Shit, sorry, I just..." he considered shutting his ridiculous mouth and trying to move on, but he figured he couldn't leave that one without some kind of excuse. "I just haven't really looked at your eyes before. Not like, really, I mean. They're... nice. I like the little red bits." His voice grew much quieter as he spoke. He was facing away from Roman, and thank god, because if Roman could see his face he'd see peach-colored cheeks and a childish smile. And how very uncharacteristic of Virgil that would be.
"Thanks," Roman finally managed to huff. He stood slowly, trying to gather himself, and walked over to his desk, grabbing his car keys. He jangled them in his fingers, raising his eyebrows and silently asking Virgil if he'd take him up on the ride offer. Virgil, who had barely managed to discipline his face before Roman turned to him, just smiled very slightly and nodded.
Virgil grabbed his backpack, and Roman led the way from his room and out the front door to his ridiculous shiny-red mustang, which happened to have white racer stripes. Virgil thought this was pretty funny, but kept a sarcastic tease to himself for once in his life.
Virgil texted Roman his address from the passenger seat. While the bus ride to Virgil's house from Roman's was about 20-30 minutes, the car ride was less than 10. Roman considered putting on some music, but decided against it, considering what happened the last time they were alone with just music and each other. What the heckity heck is happening here?  When I imagine... love... this is what comes to mind. He cringed at himself, surprised and disgusted that he was admitting that. This doesn't feel the same as it does with Logan though... so then, maybe I truly love Logan, and Virgil just inexplicably makes my heart flutter? Of course, the only other possibility is so much worse-
Roman's thoughts were interrupted by Virgil shouting "RED LIGHT!!!" very suddenly, and Roman slammed the breaks.
"Jesus Princey, are you trying to kill me!? Is that why you were so hell-bent on driving me home??" Virgil's voice was mostly panic, but laced with some half-hearted sarcasm. He clearly had more panic and less sarcasm in it than he'd meant to. He was holding onto his seat and the door beside him for dear life, looking at Roman with wide eyes, his chest heaving comically. Roman was too dazed to laugh.
"Shit, I'm sorry," He looked up at the street light, which was in fact red. "I got lost in thought for a minute. I won't let it happen again while I'm responsible for you. My deepest apologies." Roman would have normally faux bowed and reached out for Virgil's hand to kiss his knuckles, but unfortunately Virgil was making him feel... well, bitterly jittery and not very glittery. Or maybe, too glittery. He didn't know anymore; all he knew is he had to leave his thoughts for when he got Virgil and then himself home safe.
"Lost in thought?" Virgil let that little comment slip sooner than he could corral himself, and almost brought his hand to cover his mouth, but far too late. Roman just looked at him anxiously, sighing.
"Yeah. I guess so." Roman wasn't normally this dismissive, and Virgil knew far better at this point than to press.
Before they were even on Virgil's street, he broke their awkward silence with an extremely unexpected "thanks for driving me home, Ro. You didn't have to, and I really appreciate it."
Roman was shaken to the core, partially by Virgil's sincerity and partially by the nickname. "Oh, uh, well, no need to thank me now. I nearly killed you once, and you aren't safe and sound at your destination just yet." He smiled softly over at the taller emo. Virgil just returned the smile.
A few moments later came a quiet "really though." Virgil's capacity for sincerity wasn't very extensive, and if anyone knew that it was Roman. He felt a blush creeping up his neck, and couldn't think of a good response.
Finally Roman turned onto Virgil's street, adhering to the 10 mph speed limit. He cruised to a stop in front of... what was apparently Virgil's house.
It wasn't what Roman was expecting at all. Not that his... notion, that Virgil's house looked something like Gru's house from Despicable Me, was something he thought was realistic. He just hadn't known how else to imagine it. Instead of anything close to dark and sinister, the outer walls were made of some gentle tan planks all stacked horizontally. There was a light turquoise front door with a rounded top, and to its left a large window covered most of the street-facing wall. In the window, Roman could see a round inviting table with a mother, a father and a young boy sharing dinner, all smiling and seemingly caught up in their nightly banter. They were all laughing and seemed so... happy. The house itself seemed to emanate a calm happiness.
"Is this...?" Roman gestured vaguely toward the house with the address Virgil had given him.
"Yep. There's my parents, and my brother. I guess I just missed the start of dinner." Virgil reached down between his ankles to grab his bag.
"Talk about clashing aesthetics." Roman smiled mischievously at Virgil, hoping to lighten the mood without sounding like a complete jerk, at least.
Virgil caught onto this, looking over and offering him a breathy laugh. "I know. It's almost a crime for me to live here."
Roman giggled, and they found themselves stuck looking into each other's eyes once again.
"W-well, I'd better-" Virgil turned and made to open his door, but something possessed Roman to lean over to Virgil and grab his shirt, accidentally pulling him far too close to his face. They both yelped simultaneously at the close proximity, and Virgil leapt back as far as his seat would allow him, grabbing it similarly to how he'd done when Roman had nearly driven through the red light earlier.
Virgil almost said something, but some noise outside stopped him. He turned to seek its source, giving Roman a view past him as well.
"Virgil, honey, is that you?" his mom called from the doorstep. She held Atticus on her hip, and Virgil's dad towered behind them in the doorway. all of them were waving. Virgil waved back deftly, and opened the car door. He turned to Roman once again, who looked as though someone had just stomped on his heart and twisted their foot viciously.
Virgil couldn't bring himself to smile at him, but offered instead something he hoped sounded kind. "See you in class tomorrow. And... thanks again for the ride."
With that, Virgil got out and shut the door behind him, and Roman watched as he reunited with his picture perfect family, unable to move for some god forsaken reason.
"Is that one of your friends from that biology project, Virgil? He's so cute!" Roman could hear Virgil's mom squeal at her approaching son.
"Mom, leave it be, will you? he's-" Virgil's voice was cut off as their front door was shut. Roman eventually managed to take a single deep breath.
He twisted in his seat to face forward again, gripping the steering wheel with whitening knuckles and staring blankly at the mustang logo in the wheel's center. What. Was. That.
...
Roman's ride home was fast. At least, it felt much faster than the ride to Virgil's house. He didn't come close to running any more red lights, and before he knew it he was twisting the keys out of the ignition and then stepping through his front door.
He couldn't shake the daze that was clouding all of his senses. He wasn't intercepted by either of his parents on his route from the front door to his bedroom, so there was nothing to distract him from his... distractedness. He flopped onto his bed, laying on his back the same way he'd done less than half an hour ago when Virgil had almost...
That's when the haziness suddenly sped up, and the fog in Roman's brain rapidly became a hurricane. He was so confused by his own feelings that he had to squeeze his eyes shut to will away a sob. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. He pushed the palms of his hands against his closed eyelids, trying to distract himself with the aching pain and sparkling stars they brought to his eyes.
Meanwhile, Virgil had eaten dinner, thankfully and willingly accepting the pleasant distraction of his family's company. His mom was an excellent cook, and Atticus was extra animated about the stories of his adventures at school that day. He and his best friend had apparently played by the creek during recess, and found a tadpole to poke and prod. Virgil found his brother very endearing when he told his stories.
However, as all things are, his distraction was only temporary. Soon he found himself having finished the washing up after dinner and slowly trudging his way up the stairs to his room. The moment he shut his door behind him, all of the feelings that had been kept down since he'd gotten out of Roman's car crashed into him like a 20 foot wave. He leaned back against the shut door, sinking down to sit on the floor and hold his knees.
Roman and Virgil, clueless of each other, had the exact same thought at the exact same time.
Fuck. Why do I feel this way?
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reyna0w0 · 4 years ago
Text
Heterochromatic Soulmates
➵ Zen x gn!reader
➵ Zen belongs to Cheritz
➵ Oneshot
➵ W.C: 1.7k
»»—————————————♡ —————————————««
You’re window shopping with your friend, Yura; your heterochromatic eyes reflecting the clothes inside the shops. Left eye (e/c) and right eye crimson red. You sigh, “I really want that. I’m so broke though.”
“I know right! Let’s get ice cream instead,” Yura says, dragging you.
Moving through many people in the plaza while your words drowned in the noise of the crowd. Yura is chattering on top of her lungs though. You walk past a pair of tall guys, immediately feeling faint. You wonder if you forgot to take your iron pills. You stop in your tracks and Yura turns back, “Are you okay?”
“Oh my God! (Name)! Y-your eye!” Yura yells.
“What?” You groan, feeling like you might pass out.
“Your eye color! Your red iris is gone! You’ve met your soul mate!” She yells, freaking out. 
She rummages through her bag and produces a small mirror, bringing it up to your face. You definitely see that both your eyes are (e/c) now but it quickly flickers away and your red iris is back. 
Everyone is born with heterochromia; left eye, your original eye color, and right eye, your soulmates’ eye color. When you meet your soulmate, you’ll feel faint as the hue of your right iris changes to match your left iris. But this change is only for a moment and not permanent. Only when you and your soul mate have some kind of physical contact then you will regain your original eye color in both eyes as will they.
You don’t have the biggest interest in this soulmate business but Yura loves the concept. She looks around to figure out who it is but it’s a busy plaza and people are moving quickly.
“Aww, how will you find them now?” Yura whines.
“I don’t particularly care about it. You know people can lead perfectly normal lives even without their soulmates,” You roll your eyes.
“But meeting your soulmate is so romantic!” She retorts.
You sigh deeply, “Let’s get that ice cream.” 
The two of you continue to the ice cream parlor.
~
Somehow, you got roped into hosting a party at this charity organization. You didn’t even want to be asked why you even agreed in the first place. Well, you were lowkey threatened to stay and do the job; but you don’t talk about that. Because it turned out way better than you expected when you first joined; terrified out of your wits, not knowing what exactly you signed up for. 
Luckily, they were all genuinely good people, and the time leading up to the party, you learned more about every member. From Zen to Yoosung to Jaehee to Jumin to Seven. Jumin and Seven were more on the mysterious side, especially Seven but you got along with him, Yoosung and Jaehee. And most of all, Zen. 
Those beautiful eyes; one bright crimson and one beautiful (e/c). Of course, the possibility of Zen being your soulmate did cross your mind but it was quickly ruled out. You didn't believe much in the soulmate thing and you didn't think coincidences like this happen. Like what were the chances? Besides, many people had similar-colored eyes. 
You and Zen got along swimmingly. You found him extremely attractive but as the days passed and you chatted with him you started to love his personality. Definitely a bit of a narcissist...okay no lies...a huge narcissist. He was kind at heart and very caring. Also madly affectionate and you loved it when he used endearing words to call you. At first, you just thought he was a pretty boy but as time passed and the both of you shared conversations; you quickly noticed that you were falling fast. Really fast and no one could stop it. 
You were hit by the sudden realization of your feelings and flustered about it. The realization that the party was right around the corner was the trigger to you realizing your feelings. You were so excited and nervous to meet Zen for the first time in person. You were comforted by his words in a text and his voice in calls but seeing in real life and flesh and blood was a whole different story. 
The party day drew closer in a blink of an eye. Hours before the party, you found yourself in a mess. Cursing yourself for not deciding on an outfit suitable for the party. You rummaged through your closet, throwing clothes out, filling up the entire apartment with clothes. 
You groaned in frustration as you stared at the 3 outfits laying on your bed. Messing up your hair, you decided to send photos of each outfit to Seven. You and Seven got along pretty well since you both had a similar sense of humor. By the day of the party, you both were pretty tight. You sent him the pictures and asked for his opinion as you flopped onto your bed, sighing. 
Normally, you wouldn’t care about your outfit but this time, you did. All because you were going to meet Zen for the first time. You never thought you’d be like this; like Yura. Zen just made you feel things you never felt before. You couldn’t even explain it. All you decided to do was to cherish it. Though, you never thought that he’d feel the same way ever. 
Seven texted back really quickly saying he liked the second outfit you sent. Taking his opinion, you changed. Finally, you were done with your outfit, on making yourself look presentable as the party host, well, mostly for Zen. 
Your heartbeat sped up slightly as you got excited about the party. You’d finally meet everyone in real life and not through a screen. You felt jittery as your stomach did a couple of flips. 
Finishing up some final touches, you took one look at yourself in the mirror and headed out. Taking a bus and walking a few meters, you stood before the party hall. Bracing yourself, you pushed the doors open. Some finishing touches were being made to the hall, supervised by the brown-haired assistant. You smiled, walking up to her, “Jaehee!” 
“Is that you (Name)?” She said.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” You said, excitement filling your belly. 
Meeting her in person was way different than texting online. 
“It’s lovely to meet you in person,” Jaehee smiled.
You excitedly asked, “Who else is here?”
“Mr. Han is arriving shortly. Yoosung and Luciel are coming together. Zen said he’ll be here in a while,” Jaehee answered. 
As soon as she said that, Jumin joined you guys. 
“Mr. Han,” Jaehee said.
“Assistant Kang and I presume you are (Name),” Jumin said, matter-of-factly. 
“Yes! Pleased to meet you, Jumin!”
“Likewise,” Jumin replied.
“(Name)!” 
You heard a familiar voice call out. You turned to the source of the voice. You saw Yoosung run up to you at full speed, Seven trailing right behind.
Yoosung ran up and gave you a bone-crushing hug. 
“You’re going to suffocate her,” Seven commented, laughing. 
Yoosung let go real quick, “Sorry! I got too excited! It’s so nice to see you at last, (Name)!”
“Happy to see too, Yoosung,” You flashed a smile.
“You too, Seven,” You added, giving him a fist bump.
“Just Zen left now,” Jaehee said. 
Hearing his name sends butterflies to his stomach. You couldn’t wait to see him, wondering if he looked even better in real life. The anticipation made your stomach twist and convulse in a way it never did before. The effect he had on you was unreal. 
You continued talking to the rest of the party as most of the preparations were done and the party was officially starting soon. 
You were laughing at a joke Seven made but suddenly, you felt faint; a wave of nausea swept into you. You grimaced a little and you heard a voice, “(Name).”
You turned to the owner of the voice, clutching your chest. Your heterochromatic eyes flickered to the person who called you; eyes locking each other’s as it immediately changed colors. 
“Zen…,” You murmured. 
“You’re my soulmate,” He smiled, his now both crimson eyes staring into yours as he took your hand and pressed it to his lips. 
Nausea disappeared immediately after your eyes changed colors. But now you felt your heart in your throat as you looked at the breathtaking man in front of you; unable to utter a single word.
He was way more handsome than you could ever imagine. His selfies didn’t do him justice. Those bright crimson irises, silky smooth silver hair that fell beautifully on his face, the stance he took, the aura he emitted; all made him seem more ethereal than you could have imagined. 
“Z-Zen,” You finally found words to utter his name. 
You couldn’t believe it that he was your soul mate.
“You were the one who I crossed paths with at that plaza a while ago where my eyes temporarily changed…,” You muttered.
“Yeah,” He smiled.
~
On the other hand, Zen is out shopping with Yoosung at the very same plaza. He crosses paths with you and feels lightheaded. Being the sucker for romance he is, he whips his head back, looking around. He is absolutely certain he has met his soulmate. Yoosung looks at him confused until he realizes that both his eyes are crimson red. 
“Your soulmate!” Yoosung yells.
“Yes yes, I know!” Zen says, looking around frantically but to no avail. 
The crowd moves quickly and they are getting swept away by it. 
“Damnit, missed them,” Zen curses. 
~
Surprise on your face, you stuttered out, “I can’t believe it.” 
“I can. The moment we started talking on the messenger, I felt a connection,” Zen said. 
Heart beating out of your chest as Zen moved closer to you, entwining your hands with his; pressing his forehead to yours, “I’m so happy you’re my soulmate.” 
You stared at his eyes as it reflected your own; feeling like there was no one in the hall other than you two. The other members’ comments turned into a muffle as everything turned blurry except for the man who is your soulmate in front of you. 
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kisskissbanggang · 5 years ago
Text
Standby pt. 5 -- The Finale
[30+ Min Read/10.2K Words – Bang Chan x Female Reader – Idol!AU – Half Plot, Half NSFW/Smut – Unresolved Pining, Soul Searching, Confrontation, Regrettable Situations, Rough Encounters, Role Reversal, Epilogue]
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Masterlist | Feedback
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You felt cold as you half-heartedly browsed the racks of CDs, and it wasn't just because of the dumping rain outside. This wasn't anywhere near the list of things you wanted to do today, yet here you were. Chris had blandly explained Hyunjae promised to take him to the music store on the way to the studio, that he would only need a ride there since he could more safely get back by himself later that night. However, Hyunjae got called away to one of her hundreds of meetings, and you were reluctantly roped in. It was the only thing he’d said to you since you both came back to Seoul. The car ride had been painfully silent. Chris hadn't even worn headphones. He just stared out the window as you drove. 
Chris’ browsing brought him closer down the aisle  to you. You’d had enough. It’d been rough trying to navigate this chasm between you and you just wanted to see him put at ease. 
“I'm sorry,” you said quietly, not looking up from the display as you browsed. 
“You don't have to say that,” Chris replied coolly. 
“What do you want me to say?” You prodded. Chris just flipped through CDs.
“I don't want you to say anything.”
A sigh sank heavily from your lips. “I just feel really bad--”
“That's fine,” Chris firmly snapped at you, “It's fine that you feel bad, because stringing me along like you have been doesn't feel very good for me either.”
“Stringing you along?!” You hated this. All of this. You hated Chris being hurt, but most of all you hated how confused you still were about everything. And now Chris would barely even look at you, let alone talk to you. 
“Yeah,” Chris nodded enthusiastically, “I took all this time, stupidly thinking we were developing something, really putting myself out there like an idiot just because of what you said on the plane, and--”
You looked up to see what had made Chris stop mid-rant. The cameras were here. He sheepishly bit down his anger and engrossed himself in the CDs. Each plastic case clacking against each other made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 
It was prudent to always be on the lookout for cameras in public, so you should've still expected them even after there appeared to be none when you arrived. You tried to appear to be intently browsing the racks when an obnoxious voice came behind you. 
“Can I see the happy couple?”
Oh god. Not this guy. You noticed Chris’ shoulders tense along with yours. This guy was awful, this balding frog of a man who was outsourced by a couple fansites to take pictures during school days. You both tried your hardest to focus on your shopping. The guy prodded up against you, only backing off when you shot him a glare. 
“Awh, trouble in paradise?” The frog man laughed, still snapping pictures. 
“Can you leave us alone, please?” You asked begrudgingly. 
“What’s the matter?” The guy condescended, “is boyfriend Chan not getting you the CD you wanted?” This time, the awful man pulled on your sleeve, moving you out of the way to get a picture. 
“Excuse me!” You sharply interjected, stepping back in his frame, “That was extremely rude of you. Please leave us alone.”
“Just a couple of pictures and I'll be out of your way,” he grumbled, elbowing you back to the side. A small crowd was gathering now, despite the distance they kept. You spied a couple of cell phones being whipped out, and the fire in your chest burned a little hotter. 
“I really don’t think so--” you insisted, interrupted as Chris anxiously tugged on the loop of your backpack. Your feet remained planted firmly in place between the two men. 
“Come on,” Chris murmured behind you, “walk away. It’s not worth it.”
“It really isn’t.” The photographer chuckled, now grabbing onto your arm. 
“Let go,” you stiffly ordered, trying to sound as confident as you hoped you could be. 
“Then move,” he challenged. 
“You’re hurting me,” you warned. 
“All the more reason to let me do my job.”
“Fine,” you replied curtly, gaining all the willpower you could, “you do your job, and I'll do mine.”
That was it. You were done. You weren’t dealing with this today -- or anymore, for that matter. Stepping forward, you stomped onto the photographer’s foot, grabbing his camera and shoving it back into his face until he tripped back onto the floor. Your ears perked at Chris’ sharp gasp and whispered string of curses behind you. You grabbed his hand and moved to step around the man, letting out a startled scream as he grabbed onto the leg of your jeans. 
“Cheap move, you little bit--”
Chris stepped forward, getting an arm around you to pull you away. He grabbed ahold of your hand, yanking you back toward the rear exit and away from the assembled onlookers and their cell phones. He slammed open the back door of the store as the photographer got up to his feet and barreled after you. Thankfully the company car was nearby, having chosen to park out of direct view of the street behind the store. You sprinted around and dove into the driver side of the car while Chris scrambled into the passenger seat, your sweating fingers fumbling with the keys as the frog man caught up and attempted to pull the handle. You screamed again, quickly sorting through the keys as Chris reached across you and locked the door. There practically seemed to be three times as many keys as you guessed were necessary. Finally, you got a firm hold of the right key and stabbed it into the ignition. Exhaust spilled out from behind the car as you punched the gas, peeling out of the back parking lot and leaving the photographer in your wake. 
“Why did you get involved?!” You asked Chris, still breathing hard in all the adrenaline as you drove. 
“Me?! Why did you even start it?!” He shot back at you. 
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you let out a crazed laugh, “not all of us are insistent on being so congenial and noble at all times.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I'm not someone who’s going to let people walk all over me just so I can look good.”
“You sure are lucky to have that privilege, aren’t you?” Chris slouched down in the passenger seat, flushed from his anger. “I mean, be condescending all you want, but it works. The pictures speak for themselves. Stay can always tell when I'm not having a good time, even when I wish they couldn’t.” You bit your lip, noticing him fiddling with his fingers and clearly preoccupied with something. The car ride was silent after that, up until you pulled up to the studio. Chris wordlessly opened the door and shouldered his bag. The need to say something, anything, was eating at you as he turned to walk inside. 
“Chris--”
“What?” He asked bluntly, pausing, his hand still about to swing the passenger door shut. He looked so thoroughly exhausted. 
“I'm sorry.”
Chris shrugged. “You couldn't help it.” He looked at you now, really looking at you for the first time in days. Surely, he must've seen how hurt and lost you looked as he shut the door and walked away. 
Your drive back to the dorm felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking until the moment you walked inside and Hyunjae stormed over to you, apparently back from her meeting. She had yelled and berated you, scolding you for being so stubborn and reckless. Hyunjae shoved her phone in your face, flicking through photos and videos of you and Chris and the photographer. It was useless to tell her you were defending yourself. He was right: the pictures spoke for themselves. You knew you had made a dangerous decision, that the prudent thing to do would’ve been to bite your tongue and do nothing. 
And then she passed the news along. You were too much trouble right now. You were suspended indefinitely while the company figured out how to get rid of you. 
It would take too much of your energy to cry about it. Really, all you could manage to do was catch your bus back to your cold apartment, still sleepwalking as you walked inside. Even though it was your home, it felt so empty. You supposed it was from the lack of people you usually had around, but you knew that in the end, you were just stupid enough to get wrapped up in the wrong good intention. 
Days passed and your friends slowly realized you were back home. The beeping on your phone eventually fizzled from a storm to a light rain, occasionally buzzing as someone wondered where you were, if you were free to catch up. All you could do was drift from the couch to the bathtub to the bed, occasionally heading downstairs to the convenience store on the corner when you noticed you were hungry. It was getting to be too much, weighing on you and insisting upon itself. None of the texts that popped up on your phone were Chris, and they wouldn’t be. You had to finally see that. You resolved to answer the next text that came, praying to feel anything but lost and numb for the first time in weeks. 
Come out tonight, came the next message, we miss you, dummy. You sighed, begrudgingly thankful it was this and not someone inviting themselves over with ice cream and wine. Still, you fussed over an outfit to wear, even if you were quietly glad to be distracted. You settled on a simple and fun dress with some heels you hadn't worn in forever. You finally took the time to fully clean yourself up, even going so far as to put on some more makeup than your usual. The person in the mirror looked vaguely more put together than you felt, which was just what you needed as you ordered an Uber. 
The club was noisy and crowded, which you knew to expect, but it was bearable to have friends there. Everyone was gracious enough to give you two minutes of personal gushing and pecking and prying before the matter on everyone’s minds finally came tumbling out: Chris or, rather, Bang Chan. Were you dating, were you fucking, were you still together? You dragged your friends into a booth before you finally explained all you were willing to be held accountable for: it was complicated, and it wasn’t what it looked like, and it wouldn't be smart to say anything more. Your friends just about murdered you for such an apparent cop-out, but it was true. You couldn’t afford to give anyone the wrong idea, even if that meant telling them virtually nothing. It was dumb to keep things like this secret, but everyone knew that by this point, no amount of backlash could be cancelled out by now. You were obviously something, but saying that out loud — no matter if it was nothing or whatever it was they thought — would be falling off a tightrope. 
Everyone was pressing you for more details when your phone rang. No one ever called you. Who would be calling you? You checked, your eyes widening in surprise. 
Chris. 
You made an excuse to run off to the bathroom, shutting yourself into the last stall and talking low. 
“Hello?” You asked, attempting not to get your hopes up. 
“I’m in a fucking bind,” came Chris on the other end, distressed and yelling over music in the background. Where was he? “Can you help me?”
“How bad is it?” 
“Bad enough for me to be calling you.”
Despite the sting, you understood, snapping back into professional mode. It felt like being launched from underwater and back onto the beach as you grabbed a pad and pen from your purse and took notes. Wherever Chris was, it was only a few blocks away. 
Your friends all booed, trying to be understanding despite their frustration at your leaving so soon. You’d been a hermit for a week and suddenly you come out for a night, only to be whisked away once again. The cold air of the street stung as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your heels clicking on the asphalt as you shrugged on your regrettably light jacket. You knew you could walk in the time it would take to wait for a car so you hurried along, dodging passersby and praying it wouldn’t rain. 
You were surprised to find yourself standing in front of another nightclub and you made sure you had the right address. Sure enough, this was the place. You were bewildered as you walked through, grumbling as you dug out a couple bills to pay the cover charge and trying to peer through the dim lighting. The cacophony and drunks were just as annoying as the last club you were in. Chris almost never expressed much interest in going to places like this, so what was he doing here? You combed the whole place, even asking a bartender for a “friend” who just happened to match Chris’ description, when you finally heard a commotion behind you. 
Sure enough, there was Chris, Jisung, and Changbin, all holding back Hyunjae as she clawed at a bouncer. The boys were obviously trying to lay low with their face masks still on. Changbin had the brim of his baseball cap pulled low on his face, and Jisung had his hoodie pulled up. Somehow, the three of them were having a hard time calming down the small woman. 
“I shouldn’t have to leave! Let go of me!” Hyunjae drunkenly screeched, kicking and swinging as the boys tried to keep her contained. She accidently pulled at Chris’ face mask, ripping it off and making Jisung’s hood fall back. Right on cue, the cell phones whipped out and a crowd gathered on the fringes. You stepped forward, and the boys all looked up as they noticed you. Thinking fast, you did the first thing that came to mind: you punched Hyunjae right under the sternum, hard enough to knock the air out of her. The boys quickly grabbed her as she crumpled, slinging her over Chris’s shoulder and Changbin picking up her bag. They followed you out, running out to find the company car while onlookers still followed and tittered behind. 
“Car?” You breathlessly asked the boys behind you. 
“Around the corner, one block down on the left,” Jisung blurted out as he followed. 
And, of course, the photographers, having hidden away in the corners of the club, made their way to the front of the assembled crowd, snapping photos. You fell behind now, trying to get space between them and the boys until they ran up to the car. Jisung yanked Hyunjae’s bag off of Changbin’s arm, digging around until he found the keys and beeped the car open. Hyunjae was loaded into the back, Jisung and Changbin getting in on either side of her as Chris jumped into the front seat. Once they were safely inside, you ran up as quickly as you could in your high heels and fell into the driver's seat. You all fumbled to get the keys into your hand and into the ignition, cursing and yelling as the photographers caught up to you when you finally got the car started. You blasted the horn to disperse the swarming crowd and threw the car in reverse, feeling a bizarre sense of deja vu as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street. 
“Where are we going?!” Jisung asked from the backseat. 
“Hyunjae’s place,” you firmly decided, “we can’t let anyone else see her like this. We’ll get her inside and I’ll get you all a ride while I stay with her.”
“Are you sure?” Changbin asked. You nodded definitively. 
“Absolutely. She would do the same.”
You shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as your dress hugged your legs together more than you’d like. You tried to be sneaky as you slid the hem up a few inches, just enough to get more comfortable as you sped along, but you still noticed Chris out of the corner of your eye, absently watching the extra flash of skin. His attention hurt for some reason, having proof that he still was capable of looking at you that way but not wanting to. 
“Tell me what happened,” you prodded, getting his attention back. He shrugged with a sigh, broad shoulders softening. 
“We were out meeting a producer down the street,” he explained. “Hyunjae-noona’s been acting weird all day, and she said she would wait at the club for us since we were having dinner and would be a while. I thought it was weird at the time, but… I guess I didn't realize what a bad idea it was.”
“It's fine,” you consoled, “your intentions were good. Hyunjae fucked up, not you.”
The boys worked to bring Hyunjae after you as you parked in her building's garage and headed to the elevator. You'd only been here one or two times, but you were still impressed with how humbly nice her place was. You were sure to be quiet as you silently moved down the hallway. 
Until you dropped the keys on the front doormat. 
Hyunjae roused as you hurried to pick up the keys, instantly getting rowdy again. The boys all jumped to attention, doing their best to shush her again as you got the door open. It was so polite of her to decide now was the time to finally lurch. 
“Bathroom, quick,” you directed, Chris following your pointed finger down the hallway. He unloaded Hyunjae off his shoulder and onto the floor besides the toilet and you leapt down beside her, getting her to retch inside. You all took a moment to breathe before Chris surprised you with an offered hand to help you up. 
“I think she's got it from here,” he panted with a small smile. You nodded, exhausted, pulling your phone from your purse and dialing for a car. This was a case of calling on a trusted company, and not just a ride share. The two of you walked back down the hallway, catching Jisung and Changbin collapsed on the couch in the small living room. You directed him to the tiny kitchen, letting yourself fall into a chair at the table. 
“You look really good, by the way,” Chris remarked, but he wasn't quite looking at you as he finally relaxed into the seat on the other side of the small table. 
“So do you,” you replied awkwardly. He really did. He was obviously sleeping and eating and staying active -- he was fine, just like you knew he'd be.
“I'm sorry if I dragged you away from your plans.”
“I was just out with some friends,” you waved him off, “I wasn't having an amazing time anyway.” His eyebrow perked up at the mention of ‘friends’, but what did that mean? 
“How have you been? The others have missed you.”
What about you, you wanted to ask, didn't you miss me? You thought against it. “I'm fine,” you shrugged, “I'm looking for new work.”
“What?” Chris did look at you now, surprised and a little hurt. 
“Well, yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I can't stick around and keep causing trouble. Tonight definitely won't help that.”
“Okay then, that's fine,” Chris shrugged, “so you’re looking at other companies?”
“Not exactly,” you admitted.
“Oh. So you’re switching tracks, then? You’d do great in marketing.”
“No, same track…  But somewhere else. When I was first getting into trouble when we were abroad… Hyunjae mentioned a friend at a production agency in L.A. I actually have a letter of recommendation I want Hyunjae to sign. I even brought it out to show my friends tonight.”
“What?!”
You reached forward, pressing a finger to Chris’ lips and he smacked it away. “Will you quiet down, please?” You pleaded. He looked at you, aghast as he shook his head. “I’m sure you're even madder at me, from the sound of it,” you frowned. He shook his head again.
“No. I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I let myself think if I got this behind me, that we could... It’s stupid. This is honestly stupid. I should've never let myself love you. It’s just made everything that much more difficult.”
“What?” You asked, dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that.”
“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Chris reeled, “I’m sorry, but I really am starting to regret falling for you.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. You don’t love me,” you insisted. Chris let out an indignant laugh as he got up. 
“I can't believe you,” he scoffed. “Fine. Tell me what to do. I don’t love you. Whatever. I'm getting the guys and waiting downstairs.”
You watched, feeling a bizarre sense of heartache as Chris pushed himself away from the table and stormed off. There was a quiet argument in the living room, and the front door finally swung open and shut. A heavy sigh fell from your gut as you got up. You eventually had to check on Hyunjae; everything had been too quiet. You padded down the hall into her bedroom, sliding open her organized drawers to find her some pajamas. You kicked off your tall shoes before heading back down the hall. 
Hyunjae lay in a heap against the wall next to the toilet, cheeks flushed but otherwise looking alright. 
“When did you get here?” She slurred tiredly as you worked on getting her dirty blouse off. 
“You’re a mess,” you said, feeling almost stronger for saying it out loud. “You caused a lot of fucking trouble tonight. I'm glad it wasn't me for once.”
“I just missed my baby,” she whined, her head lolling back down to her chest as you wrestled a pajama top onto her. 
“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose, “don’t call me that.”
“Not you, stupid,” she scolded. She kicked you off as she searched for her bag. When she couldn’t find it, she slumped back against the wall, lazily gesturing out to the hallway as she shimmied off her jeans. “In my bag… My baby.”
Whatever. You could leave your letter of recommendation in there for her to sign, but you mostly wanted to know what the hell she was talking about. You found the bag sitting on the couch in the living room where Jisung must’ve left it. Carefully, you shifted around the jostled contents until something caught your eye -- an envelope. Another letter? You slipped it open, wondering exactly what you were looking at when inside was just a picture of a little girl. 
“See, stupid?” Hyunjae asked from behind you. She was fully dressed in her pajamas, leaning against the doorway to the living room. “My baby.”
“I don’t understand,” you shook your head.
“You wouldn’t,” she laughed meanly. “She’s six years old now. I get a picture of her every year. Look on the back. She likes to ride horses and her favorite color is blue.”
“Why isn’t she with you?” You sat on the couch, looking at the picture of the little girl. Hyunjae collapsed onto the couch beside you. 
“Her father knew what was best. He always told me that he would do right by me. We’re not together, and she’s with a family that isn’t stupid like we were. So I guess that’s what was right.”
“Who is--”
“The father? We met when I first became a manager. He was mature and nice and getting divorced. He’s still at JYP.”
You stared, eyes shaking a little as you looked from Hyunjae to the picture and back again. “But who--”
“None of your fucking business,” Hyunjae spat. “He doesn’t get pictures. Just me. I had her by myself, no one else was at the hospital with me. She was my little secret, and now she’s my six-year old little secret.”
“Why stay there, though?” You asked incredulously. “You could work anywhere.”
“I love my job. It’s my whole life. I told him I'd give up the baby if he kept my job. I shouldn't have to leave because I made a mistake.”
You blinked hard at the irony, shaking your head at the absolute audacity of the mental gymnastics at play here. All this time you’d hoped that Hyunjae was acting from a place of platonic admiration, a kind of kinship making her want you to succeed… Not some sort of bitter vendetta against her own mistakes. She ardently believed you couldn't help it just because she couldn’t. That realization burned, but it didn’t manifest as more anger. You pitied Hyunjae, and this didn't feel unlike the moment you’d realized your parents were flawed adults doing their best. Hyunjae interrupted your thinking with her miserable snoring from her end of the couch and, after making sure she was bundled up in a blanket and propped on her side, you found a bucket in her cleaning supplies to set by her. You grabbed a sports drink from her fridge and placed it on the coffee table. To top it off, you dug your letter of recommendation out of your purse, slipping the envelope under the picture of Hyunjae’s six year-old little secret and ultimately helping yourself to the bedroom. 
Nights passed and you didn’t hear from anyone. The morning after you bailed out Hyunjae, you’d slipped your shoes back on and caught an Uber home without rousing her. You didn’t hear from Chris or any of the members, you didn’t hear from Hyunjae, and you didn’t hear from any of your friends because while you were bailing out Hyunjae, you bailed out on them, and they assumed you wanted space. And maybe you did. You threw yourself into your schoolwork, almost forgetting in all this madness that graduation was fast approaching. Normally, you’d be looking forward to becoming a full-time manager, but now you had no idea what would become of you. You checked and rechecked and triple-checked all your graduation materials, refusing to mess anything else up. After all these years of hard work, you would at least walk out with the degree you were entitled to, if not for losing your dream job in the process. 
Graduation itself was almost a relief. Your family got stuck mid-travel and couldn’t make it, but you were being assured through multiple texts during the ceremony that one of your friends was keeping them in the loop and sending pictures. This was puzzling, considering you were currently sitting with most of your friends. It hurt to not have your family in attendance after all this work, but it was nice to know they were trying. You couldn’t shake the fact, though, that this felt like a post-mortem. After this was some ominous void that looked like it could swallow you whole. Years of careful planning, and now you were jobless and directionless. There was really no telling how difficult it would be to find a job with your current reputation if you didn't have someone vouching for you, and the idea of switching tracks entirely felt like failure. 
An elbow in poking into your arm let you know that your existential crisis was almost holding up your row of students. You quietly apologized, quickly getting up and falling into line towards the stage. You still couldn’t focus, lost in how going back to making coffee for bratty teens and huffy professionals would only remind you of how short you cut yourself off. Everything only became more fully realized as you crossed the stage and accepted your diploma. You smiled and waved for the event photographer, but were starkly distracted by something beyond the barrier, towards the back of the grand lawn where the ceremony was being held. A shock of blonde hair and some broad shoulders clad in black caught your eye, only blurred by the distance, but an odd shape that looked eerily like Hyunjae’s giant purse only made you feel even crazier. It would be a bit ridiculous to ghost you and suddenly show up on the fringes of your graduation. Chris, maybe, but absolutely not Hyunjae. Clearly, you had just imagined it, and you shook your head, ready to just head back to your apartment. 
No school and no job would end up being a huge learning curve to get used to. Waking up and having nothing was a bizarre feeling, and it made you a bit anxious, feeling even more lost than you already had. You tried going back to the gym. You tried going for walks, even when rain was dumping down outside. You got together your resume and a CV and portfolio materials. Nothing was helping fill this vacuum you’d created. For a couple days you severely considered texting Chris, your finger hovering over the send button but never going through with it. Again, he was fine. He would be fine, and once you moved on with everything, you'd be fine, too. 
Another rainy night arrived, this time seemingly out of nowhere, and you were taking firm stock of your cabin fever. What could be changed before you eventually had to move? You could get some plants, you supposed, maybe liven up this oddly cold apartment that didn’t look like anyone of substance actually lived here, when a knock sounded at the door. You tried peering out the front window which looked out at the walkway outside, but whoever was at the door was just out of sight. Carefully, slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out. You gasped. 
Chris. 
He was soaked, having apparently been caught in the sudden downpour. You both stood on either side of the threshold and warily regarding each other. Chris moved first, unable to keep still any longer and he stepped through your doorway, taking your face in his hands and kissing you back into your apartment. Your hands covered his, unsure if you wanted to tear them off of you or hold on tight. You did, however, finally let logic rule for a moment. Your hands drifted down to his chest, his drenched shirt under his open jacket clammy on your fingers as you gently pushed him back. 
“What are you doing here?” You asked him, unsure if you were speaking quietly or if your heart was just beating too loudly in your ears. 
“It’s okay,” he panted, “I’m supposed to be out with a friend right now.”
“No, Chris,” you shook your head, “why are you here?”
“I…” He paused, biting at his lip as he thought. Were those raindrops on his cheeks? “I heard Hyunjae on the phone earlier. She was talking to her friend in L.A., and I realized you’re really leaving and I might never see you again, and…” He paused again, a little more choked up and frazzled now. 
You took his hand, softly massaging his fingers in your grip. “Chris, Hyunjae isn’t going to just ship me off to L.A. She’s too bitter for that. I don’t know what you heard earlier, but you didn’t have to come here--”
“No,” Chris insisted, “Don't condescend to me. I had to come. No matter what, that moment just solidified that I--.”
You shook your head, letting go of Chris’ hand before he held onto you himself. “Don't say it--”
“Oh, don't you start with that again,” he shushed you. “Would you stop and listen to me for once? If you don't let someone in you're going to end up just as miserable as she is.”
“Fine,” you huffed, wrenching your hands out of his, “I can let someone in, but it doesn't have to be you and I don't have to ruin your career in the process.”
“Would you stop being such a martyr?!” Chris reeled. “Stop being so stubborn and let me be the one to do right by you for once. Don't treat me like I'm so precious, alright?! I'm so tired of being your little secret.”
“Secret? People know, Chris.”
“Then why are you still pretending you don't have any sort of real feelings for me?! What you say and what you do practically never line up and it's driving me absolutely insane. You're so insistent that you're the only one making sacrifices here and I've had it.”
You folded your arms, waiting and praying you were masking the fire raging just under your skin. “Fine. You've made sacrifices, too. Did you get that out of your system? Are you finished?”
“Holy shit!” Chris sputtered. “Would you come off it already? I come out here to tell you I fucking love you and you are being the biggest dick about it!”
“Stop saying that!” You sighed heavily. By this point you were both pacing your tiny apartment. 
“Stop?! This is the first time I could even try to get you to listen after last time, you nag!”
“If you’re going to be calling me names, maybe you should get the hell out,” you ordered, thrusting a pointed finger at the door. 
“Fine!” Chris spat, turning to leave. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You're already plenty like Hyunjae. She must be carting you off because she can’t stand having competition for Most Selfless Asshole.”
That did it. The fire under your skin shot up to your eyes and all you saw was red. You reached past him, grabbing the door handle for him and moving to shove him outside yourself. 
“Hey, would--? Would you -- fucking stop it!” Chris struggled against you. He attempted to push you back so he could actually leave, only to be met with your grappling hands every time he tried to create distance. He sighed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was mad and it was terrible to say. Please calm down?”
“No!” You roared, startling him. You were too heightened by now, bristling with distress from all sorts of directions. Doing the only thing he could think to do, he tackled forward, hoisting you over his shoulder and trying to ignore your yelling and thumping fists on his back as he marched you across the floor to your bed. He unceremoniously tipped you down, letting you bounce onto the mattress before catching your flailing hands in his again and pressing them into the sheets. 
“Now can you please calm down?” Chris tried again, and you thrashed in his grip. 
“No!” You yelled again. “I can’t believe you would just come here and try to pull this on me.”
“Pull what?” Chris fretted. “I’ve made myself more than clear this entire time. I’ve never played games, or let you believe that I feel one way and act against that.”
“Oh, excuse me for trying to remain professional!” You shouted as you tried to wrestle Chris off of you.
“What in the fuck has been professional about this?!” He asked, bewildered. 
“I’m doing my best, alright?!” You shot back, “It’s fucking complicated. You know exactly how I feel and what I'm having to deal with.”
“How would I know how you feel?! You won’t tell me anything! I’m not a fucking mind-reader, and I’m not about to just assume because look where the hell that got me.”
“Well, maybe fucking consider that admitting I love you would feel like creating a giant goddamn detour from what we’re both working for,” you blurted before you could catch the words falling out of your mouth. Your eyes bore into each other, watching, waiting, before he finally had enough and dove into you, his lips back on yours like he was coming home. 
“Say it again,” he urged against you. 
“Say what again,” you challenged, “I didn’t admit anything.” You wrenched a hand out of his grip and shoved it down between your bodies, pushing past where his rain-soaked shirt was sticking to your stomach where your hoodie had ridden up in your scuffle. He gave a yelp as you tried to clutch tight onto him between his legs. It was a dirty play, but you wanted nothing more than to not have to confront this right now. 
“What the fuck?” Chris groaned against your lips as he tried to pull out of your grasp, only succeeding in his foot slipping in your bedsheets and falling back into your hand wrapped around him in a vice. “I hate how much I missed you,” he spat at you, his tongue nonetheless mingling hot with yours at your insistence. 
“You can’t just get me to do what you want by strong-arming me,” you fired back, your grip on his cock through his jeans only getting worse as you began to massage his length. 
“Don’t distract me,” he panted, but it sounded more like a plea, “and I'm not trying to make you do anything.” Finally, he let out a thorough groan at your rubbing, reacting enough for his grip to falter on your other wrist. You took the opportunity to kick him off the bed and onto the floor before you pounced on him, your soft lounge shorts not doing much to protect you from his rigid length rubbing hard between your legs as you pinned him. His hands scrambled to stop you again as you kept him distracted, rolling your hips on top of his and hating how much you missed him, too. 
“It’s so easy for you,” you hissed as you grinded down against him, only letting his restrained moans fuel you more, “you can come here and profess your feelings for me, but I'm the one who’ll get heat for this if we try to make it happen and people know. You’re famous, Chris, and I'm just staff. Or at least I was. No matter what, I'll be some dumb girl, or some monster, who couldn't fucking help it, and either I took advantage of you, or I was too dumb to stop this, but no matter what I'll come out worse than you will. This can be a bump in the road for you but this is already ruining all my hard work.”
Chris finally bucked you off, getting up and grabbing your arm to drag you back to the bed. He easily tossed you back onto the mattress, slapping your hands away as he tried to regain control. It was almost gross, how good fighting like this felt for some reason, but seeing how bad he wanted you only pulled harder on that gut feeling you kept trying to shut up. 
“You know, plenty of people think we’re just fine. We’d have support,” he huffed as he pinned your hips to the bed. 
“Yeah,” you struggled to pry his fingers off of you, “but any amount of dissent is going to be enough to ensure I never get to do the work I want in this entire goddamn country.”
“Holy shit, you’re so stubborn,” he growled, exclaiming when you tried to shove your knee between the both of you to throw him off again. He kicked your ankles apart, settling between your legs. His jeans were rough against you where his hips met yours. 
“Do you hate it?” You challenged him. 
“Not at all,” he grinned spitefully, and you realized  his smirk matched your own, “in fact, I love it. Because, for some reason, instead of talking like rational people, you're fighting me pretty hard just to not say you don’t love me.”
“Right,” you tripped over your thoughts in an attempt to follow his new tactic, “but you’re the one who kissed me as soon as I opened the door, so who started it?” 
“Fine,” his wicked smile grew along with his confidence, “then tell me you don’t.” Chris rolled you both over, holding you up on his lap with both your wrists in one of his hands. “You’re on top. You've had no problem telling me how it is, so tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave.”
“It’s not that easy,” you stumbled through your words as you tried to tug your wrists out of his hold. As you stilled, you gradually sank into him. 
“Why?” He asked as he let you sink further against his chest. 
“Because…” You bit at your lip, really thinking of how to go about this. The way he looked up into your eyes made your whole body ignite. His grip on your wrists loosened and you melted against him, your fingers weaving into his hair that was still damp, smelling of rain and sweat as you kissed his brow. “I feel like I’m giving everything up if I say it.”
“It’s not forever,” Chris reassured you as he closed his eyes to accept your lips on his face, “this isn’t a contract. It’s just one day at a time, or a week, or a month, or however long it can be. I want you, even just for a little bit.”
Your lips on his brow traveled down to his cheek, pressing a kiss there as well in a gesture you realized you rarely practiced. Finally, apprehensively, your lips hovered only moments apart from his, hanging in a loaded silence that was threatening to swallow you whole. “Fine,” you carefully announced, “I love you. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but it did and I've been miserable over you.”
Chris’ grin cracked into a wide smile as he took your face in his hands again. “Oh, babygirl, I’ve been miserable, too,” he laughed as you teasingly swatted him for the name, the actual joy in his voice shooting straight through your heart as he kissed you again. “Say it again.”
“You got one, don’t get greedy,” you jokingly warned, gasping as he rolled you back over in bed. Chris’ hips pressed into yours as his lips traced the line of your cheek down to your neck. 
“I’m so greedy for it. Please say it again,” he asked against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you laugh. You finally made the decision to push him up from you and grabbing his jacket and pulling it off of him. He playfully cried out as you rolled him off of you and sat yourself back on his hips, taking it upon yourself to peel his wet shirt off of him, just as it was finally beginning to dry. “See? If you’re going to strip me then I deserve at least one more.”
“Make me,” you triumphantly laughed, letting out a pathetic squeak as he quickly tugged your hoodie off over your head. His eyes slowly roamed over you as his fingers played with the hem of your thin tank top underneath. The moment you moaned at the feel of his hand on your breast, that mischievous grin returned as he pinned you back to the bed once more. He let himself get distracted as you slipped off your tank top, his eyes searching you ravenously. Your hands quickly searched for the button of his jeans as he nuzzled and nipped at your breasts, a gasp jumping from him as you finally released his cock and began massaging his bare length in your hands. “Give up yet?” You coaxed him, jumping as he swiftly pulled off your lounge shorts along with your panties. 
“Not at all,” he smirked as he sat back. He kicked off his shoes and jeans and quickly stripped off his briefs before climbing back between your legs, only to be met with your foot pushing him back. You took in the sight of each other, finally fully exposed in the dim light of your tiny apartment. Your eyes pored over his bobbing Adam's apple, down to his heaving chest and following the lines of his abdomen down to his flushed and leaking erection. He looked incredible in this moment, and you let yourself finally feel like he was yours, even for just a little bit. “You’re asking for it,” he laughed, pulling you back to reality, “I’ll make you say it.” 
Before you could get another crack in, he leaned down, kissing your knee and ghosting his lips over your skin on his way up to cage you in his arms on the bed. “Fat chance--” you attempted to tease, the words caught in your throat as Chris’ firm cock prodded into your soaked entrance. His lips pressed to yours as he slowly slid inside you. You never realized how much you’d been yearning for this stretch again, to feel him filling you out as he held you. 
“Say it,” he breathed, that handsome flush that you’d noticed when he was aroused taking over his body and crawling up his chest to his neck and cheeks. “Say it or you're not getting anymore.”
“No no no,” you laughed desperately, “please, please give it to me.”
“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he smiled, “you're not getting any until you say it.”
“No, please,” you begged as you attempted to roll your hips onto his cock from under him. “Please please please.”
“That's really too bad,” he shrugged, “it would’ve been so good.”
“No no, please,” you pouted, “fuck me, please, I love you, fuck me.”
“There we go,” he groaned instantly as he immediately began thrusting deep into you, “was that so hard? Now try it when I say it.” He kissed you deep again, his hand trailing down to make sure you were spread wide for him as he fucked you. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you said, breathless, loving the feeling of giving yourself in to this moment. Chris moaned on top of you, the way the walls of your pussy massaged his cock making him almost wince from the pleasure. It was so good, you managed to still push him over onto his back, your hot depths still impaled on his length as you began to ride him. You rolled your hips hard onto his, savoring his moans and repeated affirmations of affection made under his breath as he gripped the sheets. You guided him a bit more forwardly, leading one hand to your clit as you grinded down against his length. 
“Since when did you get back on top?” Chris laughed. In this light, you could see how blown out his pupils were, how drunk on you he was that he could barely keep up. “I think I should get to be on top at least once in our lives, don’t you?”
He pushed you back over, taking a moment to tease your nipples with his tongue before he pulled out of you, smiling devilishly at your whines before he moved further down the bed. His tongue nudged in between your legs and your fingers were instantly in his hair, your back arching as he expertly laved at you. 
“Remember the first time I made you cum?” Chris smiled, picking his head up from your pussy and pumping into you with his fingers. You nodded timidly, watching and waiting to see what he was up to as his thumb drew firm circles on your clit. “I don’t think I've gotten to cum with you once since that first night backstage, but ever since I got you to cum I've thought about doing this.”
“Doing what?” You asked. This feeling of giving up control to him was keeping you alert, the vulnerability making you feel like you were spread open for him in more ways than one. He licked deep between your legs once more before coming up for air again, his chin slick with you. 
“I thought you’d remember,” he teasingly pouted, “that first day I made you cum on my tongue, I said that even after you were done, we weren't finished until I did.” Before you could question him, he held tight onto your thighs, keeping you open so he could lick and nibble at your sensitive clit as he pumped his fingers back inside you. Your head pushed back into the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut from trying not to moan too loud as Chris worked you over. All you could do was squeal and curse under your breath, completely at his mercy as his tongue pushed you dangerously closer towards your orgasm. 
“Chris, slow down,” you meagerly begged. 
“I got you, don’t worry,” he soothed, “I love you. You’re going to cum, and I’ve missed it so much. Now say it again.”
And you did. “I love you.” It began as a hushed whisper, then progressed to desperate whines and moans. He had such an affectionate power over you that you would do anything he said. Finally, just like he said would happen, he held you down and licked you through it as you couldn’t hold back your near-scream, your thighs clenching as your orgasm rocked through your body. And, just like he said he would, he didn’t stop. Chris kept licking and fingering your spasming pussy and you could almost feel his proud smile against you until he finally relented. 
You gasped for breath as Chris climbed back on top of you, his thick length almost intimidating now as he pushed up against you. He pet your hair, caressing your flushed face as you took an agonizing time to come down. “You’re being so open with me,” he marveled quietly. 
You nodded shallowly, still attempting to catch your breath. “Of course,” you breathed, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he grinned, almost as if he still didn’t believe this was happening. In a way, neither did you, until his rigid cock slid back into your aching pussy. You cried out, your hands clutching onto his arms as you were heavily overstimulated. “I got you,” he reassured you again, kissing your face as he fucked you into the mattress, “it’s so good.” He sighed into the crook of your neck, his hips rolling deep into yours. 
“It’s too much,” you whined desperately. 
“No no no, baby, you’re taking it so well,” he soothed, gently rolling you both over so you were perched on his hips once again. From this angle he was somehow even deeper inside you, filling out every inch of you that you didn’t even realize could be. “There,” he soothed, still easily bouncing you on his cock, “you have more control now.”
And, somehow, that move and remark put together made the overstimulation go from near-pain to near-bliss. In fact, in a bizarrely rare turn of events, you felt another orgasm mounting. Chris’ eyes lit up as you thrust along with him. “How close are you?” You asked, your nails beginning to dig into the lines of his chest as your momentum built. 
“Soon, baby, soon,” he struggled, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched tight onto your hips, “you’re going to make me cum so hard.”
“Good,” you desperately panted, “me, too.”
Chris’ eyes snapped open, “You’re what?”
“I’m going to cum again,” you whined, trying to match his faster rhythm. 
“Holy shit, I love you,” he smiled, “cum with me.”
You both settled into this faster rhythm, trying to keep up with each other as you both neared your peaks. Chris slowed just the smallest bit, his breath hitching and steadying again as he tried to make sure you would cum together. He listened close for the changes in your sighs and moans, the twinges of your fingers on his skin giving him hints of when you were getting closer. You gasped as he pulled you down to wrap his arms around you, his lips finding yours as you both grew even nearer. 
“Now,” he breathed against you as he felt your walls clench around him, “cum with me now, I’m gonna--!” Chris threw his head back in the pillow, letting out a deep groan as he thrust his orgasm up inside you and savoring your impassioned moans as you came along with him. He held you tight to him, his hands running up your back and into your hair to caress your face as he kissed you through his peak, breathless as his cum flowed into you. 
The air of your tiny apartment was electric as you laid together in your bed, tangled in each other, as well as the bedsheets and your discarded clothes. You rolled off him and laid at his side, keeping a hand pressed to his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Wordlessly, he turned to face you, closing his eyes and grabbing for one of your shuffled blankets. He pulled it up over you both before taking your hand, pulling you to his chest as you both recovered. 
 And you woke up like that. It really was that easy. The two of you had fallen asleep basking in this liberating glow of letting yourselves have what you both wanted, and now you were waking up to the sun already streaming in through the blinds. Your apartment suddenly felt homier, almost like when you first moved in. You looked over Chris’ face, still just as close to yours as when he drifted off to sleep, studying to see how asleep he truly was. Skipping the sweetness, you pinched his nose. 
“No,” he shook his head as he pulled you closer, “I'm sleeping.”
“You’re awake,” you smiled as you grabbed your phone off the bedside, “and I'm ordering breakfast.”
“Oh thank god,” he murmured as he willed you to fall back asleep in his arms. 
“Was last night good?” You softly asked, unable to fight off the smile on your face as your eyes were still waking up. Chris turned his head more into the pillow in an attempt to stay asleep as long as possible. He lazily nodded. 
“So good. About time, too,” he grumbled with the faintest ghost of a laugh. 
“I never asked,” you said quietly, stroking his hair as you breathed him in, “how did you find my apartment?”
“Hyunjae wanted to talk to you about the job thing but she’s too proud to not fight with herself about it. I convinced her that it was her idea to try and find you at your graduation, and when she chickened out of that, she sat parked in the company car in front of your building for like… I want to say twenty minutes. I almost dragged her up here myself.”
“She wanted to talk?”
“She did,” Chris nodded, finally giving in and opening his eyes. He sat up in your bed and stretched as he rested his head back against the wall. “I don’t know what to tell you. She really was talking to her friend in L.A. last night.”
You dragged each other out of bed, at least enough to each put on at least some form of clothing as you prepared some coffee. He watched intently as you slipped on your bathrobe, but he got distracted by all the parts of your apartment you never really considered before -- the framed pictures, the books, the way you organized your desk. Suddenly, his attention in you and your space made you take a second to remember how lost you'd been feeling lately, if maybe it was just a symptom of something less sinister than mediocrity. 
“What now, you think?” Chris finally asked you. You set a cup of coffee in his hands, trying to focus on this moment so you’d always remember it: Chris, in only his underwear, hair a mess and drinking a cup of coffee while bundled up in your bed. 
“It depends,” you ruminated, “how long can you last?”
“Me? As long as you want, I guess,” he half-shrugged, “as long as we want, really. I just want you to be happy. I'll be happy knowing you’re happy.”
You held back as you considered all the factors at hand, not wanting to let yourself get distracted by getting nearer to him right now. “What if… What if L.A. makes me happy, but you do, too?”
“Then pick L.A… and me, too, if you’d like. You don’t have to stick with one thing -- or two things -- forever. I'll be happy even having you for a little bit, remember?”
“It won’t be easy,” you warned. 
“Has any of this been easy?” He laughed and you had to agree. You nodded, finally giving yourself permission to draw closer and get swept up in him again when the buzzer on your door sounded. 
“Hyunjae!” Chris scrambled, setting his cup of coffee on your bedside and lunging for his jeans, “Holy shit, she probably tore the city apart looking for me.”
“Not Hyunjae. Food,” you gently reminded him, and he let out a gigantic sigh before collapsing back on your bed. You opened the door. 
Hyunjae. 
“Unnie,” you dumbly greeted, and you heard Chris thunk onto the floor behind you as he frantically reached for his jeans again.
“Little sister,” she awkwardly greeted in return, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Bang Chan.”
“Noona,” Chris nodded in her direction from behind you, still shirtless and horrified as he made a measly excuse to use your bathroom.  
You straightened up as Hyunjae looked you up and down, as well as Chris as he scampered out of her line of vision. This was your home, and you felt like you were on a little better footing against Hyunjae after that night at her apartment. “I guess I couldn’t help it,” you smiled demurely. 
“I’m sorry--” Hyunjae blurted. She tried again. “I’m sorry, little sister… I realized I’ve been too hard on you. As a supervisor, as a mentor… And maybe even as a friend. I was unfair to you. I'm not very good at this, so…” She slipped an envelope from her purse and into your hands. “You write well, but we already know that, and I made some grammatical revisions, and we both already know that as well. This is just a copy, of course. I already sent the original to a friend in L.A. who’s looking forward to hearing from you.”
“I know,” you replied confidently, excitement brimming under the surface, especially as Hyunjae uncharacteristically had a hard time maintaining eye contact with you. 
“I'm proud of you, little sister,” she finally said, and she nearly took a step back as you gently took her hand in yours. 
“Thank you, unnie. I appreciate that.”
Chris cautiously exited your bathroom, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. He looked back and forth between you and Hyunjae, trying to decipher how civil things were at the moment. “I’ll -- should we…? I could --”
“You'll call me,” you smiled reassuringly as you smoothed out his rumpled shirt, “and I'm going to make a phone call of my own, and in a few days you're going to help me pack, and a few nights after that you're going to take me out before I leave.”
“Yes,” Chris beamed at you, “that. All that.”
Hyunjae modestly looked away and began heading back downstairs as you insisted on kissing Chris goodbye, and you waved him off, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders to a point that you could swear you were floating. You were capable, and for the first time, you believed it. 
Standby: An Epilogue
All these credentials, and you were suddenly a glorified intern. You fumed at whichever idiot’s bright idea it was to transform all your production assistants into liaison staff for groups and their management teams for an event like this. Nevermind that only a fraction of your team were bilingual, but only a smaller fraction were bilingual in a way that actually mattered in an event like this. That meant hiring translators, and that meant hiring temp teamsters to serve in place of your production staff, and that meant no one was prepping green rooms. Your actual staff was out fetching coffee and finding emergency hair products, so you were left grabbing groups for standby for various events of the day. You were walk/jogging to your next green room when your phone buzzed with a text. 
>>It was an absolute disaster at the hotel this morning, hope you’re having better luck out there. 
You smiled at Chris’ text, despite the stress coursing through you. Making it work like this had been hard for the past year, but predicting that and doing your best to roll with it had been helpful. 
>Disaster out here, too. Can’t we just skip to tonight?
>>Sorry, babygirl, I know you're just dying without me. 
>Stop that. I'm just looking out for you and your blue balls. 
You allowed yourself a relieved giggle at your text exchange before your earpiece crackled. 
“Green Room 4 for standby, banquet hall B.”
You clicked the chirp on your receiver twice, letting the channel know you were on your way. 
“Already got Room 4,” someone else came through. You paused in the service hallway you were currently occupying. 
“Partial 4,” a different director corrected. You clicked the chirp twice again, jogging down the hall in your regrettably inappropriate skirt and heels for this type of work before you rapped at the green room door. When no answer came, you flipped through your keys for the green room skeleton key and got the door open, gasping and quickly clapping a hand over your eyes before meekly apologizing as you turned back to face the hallway. 
“Sorry!” You called over your shoulder, “Final call for standby.”
A surprised chuckle came from behind you, instantly melting your heart before you even turned around. There was Chris, his face an incriminating shade of red where he sat at the vanity. “Babygirl,” Chris let out a relieved laugh with a smile, “I’m in a bind. Can you help me?”
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thebladeblaster · 4 years ago
Text
Heart of the Vanguard Concept Chapter part 1
(Concept chapters are basically just to test to see if people will like a fic idea I have. This fic crosses over Yugioh Duel Monsters and Cardfight Vanguard.)
(Note: Besides the god cards this fic will stick to tcg/ocg effects for simplicity. People can also still stupidly set cards in face up defense position.)
Yugi double checked that he had everything with him before making his trip. He tiptoed out of the door he sweat dropped as he felt a fiery glare aimed directly at him. It was his grandfather Solomon Mutou holding a broom as he had been previously sweeping with tightly.
“You're not going to another card shop, are you Yugi?”, his grandfather questioned, remembering the invitation his grandson had received earlier.
“W-what…of course not grandpa. I’m just uh...going to hangout with my friends. You know Jonouchi and the others.”, Yugi replied nervously.
“Um hm...well have fun!”, Solomon replied with a wave before going back to sweeping.
After closing the door the young Mutou took a sigh of relief. He met up with his friends Jonouchi, Anzu, and Honda in the subway.
“Took you long enough Yug!”, Jonouchi said.
“Sorry, you know how my grandpa gets at the idea of us going to other card shops.”, Yugi replied.
“Yeah...reminds me of when we went to Duke’s.”, Honda replied, sweat dropping.
“Hopefully Jonouchi doesn’t end up in a dog suit this time.”, Anzu teased.
“Shut up!!! No one’s making a dog out of me this time!”, Jonouchi yelled.
“Better hope we don’t run into Kaiba on the way.”, Honda replied much to Jonouchi’s chagrin.
“If I see Kaiba I’ll wipe the floor with him!!!”, Jonouchi yelled.
“Guys the bus.”, Yugi pointed out as he saw everyone boarding.
They all hastily ran onto the train so they didn’t miss it. They took a sigh of relief as Yugi looked out the window. The buildings passed by like a blur. It always felt weird for him to leave Domino City. He always seemed to be off on some strange supernatural adventure every time but this time it was different. He was going to see friends. A definite nice change of pace.
After they finally got out of the subway they were greeted with a big expansive city.
“How are we supposed to find that tiny card shop in this mess?”, Jonouchi questioned.
“Well, we got there once. We just have to find where we are so we can find it.”, Anzu replied, looking over at the map.
“Maybe we're better off calling Misaki for directions. She has a perfect memory after all.”, Honda suggested.
“Oh, that’s right!”, Anzu gasped, as she brought out her phone and started calling her number.
The phone rang a few times before it was answered.
“Oh, Anzu. Are you guys almost here?”, Misaki asked, though there was an extreme amount of background noise.
“We're having a bit of trouble. We have just arrived outside the station and this place is a bit...big. I was wondering if you could give some directions to the shop?”, Anzu asked.
“Hmm...I guess the city is pretty big. Alright.”, Misaki replied as she started giving them directions.
They were astounded at how accurate it all was. She wasn’t even there but she was leading them perfectly throughout the city. On the way they stopped as they saw a familiar face.
“Gah, Kai?!”, Yugi gasped.
It was indeed the aloof fighter Toshiki Kai. Along with him was a blond haired teen with grey eyes. He wore the same school uniform as Kai. Jonouchi growled as he saw the older teen.
“You guys are here?”, Kai questioned, completely ignoring Jonouchi’s growling.
“Yeah, Aichi invited us to come over remember?”, Anzu replied and Kai simply nodded.
“Man, this is so cool to think we’d meet the King of Games in the flesh!”, the blond said.
“Hehe. I’m not that great, I'm just an average teen like you guys.”, Yugi replied with no hint of irony.
“Cool. Name’s Taishi Miwa. Looks like you guys already know Kai. Though let’s be real who doesn’t?”, Miwa introduced.
“Yeah. My name’s Mutou Yugi. Oh wait...you already know that.”, Yugi replied.
“Yeah...average.”, Kai replied blandly with a hint of sarcasm, rolling his eyes as he remembered Battle City.
“Well...average kid with an ancient magic necklace.”, Yugi replied awkwardly.
“Uh huh...you're just as ‘normal’ as Aichi and Ren.”, Kai replied, which made Yugi sweat drop.
“I’m gonna clean your clock in a duel!”, Jonouchi said to Kai.
“I don’t need another hyper kid like Kamui constantly challenging me to duels.”, Kai replied.
“Grr! I’m no kid!”, Jonouchi replied.
“Really? You sure act like one.”, Kai replied.
“Down boy. You can duel him at the shop.”, Honda said as he put his arm on Jonouchi’s shoulder.
“Hey I’m no dog!!!”, Jonouchi yelled as Honda pushed him along.
Eventually they stopped before a small card shop named ‘Card Capital’. It had a poster on the front and a sliding door. The small shop was completely crowded by people clamoring to get inside.
“Hehe, maybe Misaki can give grandpa some pointers on how to get his shop this busy.”, Yugi commented.
He jumped as some turned around to see him.
“Oh my god, is that the King of Games!”
“He’s here!”
“I thought he was taller?”
“Would he really be in a place like this?”
The door slid open and they saw Misaki on the other side. She had on a white dress shirt and a orange apron with two Cs.
“Are you guys gonna come in or will I have to give your spots to one of these guys?”, Misaki questioned.
“No need. Come on guys!”, Anzu said.
They all walked into the shop. It was just as tiny as they remembered. It was full of posters advertising various card games. It had lots of chairs and tables including two standing tables. The front desk had various card packs and there was a display on the other side with various assortments of rare cards. The shop was packed with various people dueling. It was rather lively for such a small shop.
“Is it always like this?”, Anzu asked.
“Nosy? Yes. Packed? Only when we host shop tournaments here.”, Misaki replied.
“You scoundrel!!!”, they turned their attention to a familiar voice.
They walked over to see Aichi and Kamui. The latter of which shook the former by the collar. Aichi laughed it off raising up his hands in surrender. A redheaded girl with blue eyes was trying to diffuse the situation. She wore a pink top with an orange tie and a blue skirt.
“Kamui calm down.”, the redheaded girl said.
Aichi sweat dropped as the younger boy continued to shake him.
“It’s fine Kamui. I think you’re overreacting.”, Aichi replied.
“Yeah, he just beat Emi in a duel.”, a teen with brown hair and eyes wearing a grey uniform replied.
“He just?”, Kamui questioned.
“Yeah…”, Aichi replied.
None of them seemed to notice them yet.
“You were supposed to let Miss Emi win!”, Kamui shouted.
“I was?!”, Aichi questioned, completely confused.
“I don’t get what the big deal is.”, Honda commented.
“It’s best if you don’t try to understand Kamui’s stupidity. You might catch it.”, Misaki replied casually.
“You say that as if you wanted Aichi to hold back against me.”, Emi replied.
“Well... I!”, Kamui was saying before he was cut off.
“I wanted to duel him at his best. Why would I want him to hold back?”, Emi replied, crossing her arms as Kamui shrinked back.
“It’s fine Emi. Kamui just got a bit overexcited.”, Aichi replied, brushing it off.
“Overexcited is an understatement.”, Miwa chuckled, making Aichi turn his attention to the new arrivals.
Aichi’s eyes brightened up as he saw them.
“Kai! Yugi! Miwa! Jonouchi!”, Aichi said.
“Are we gonna talk about how he called out Kai first…”, Honda commented as he sweat dropped.
The short teen was practically beaming which made Yugi blush. Though, he was at least taller than Yugi though not by much.
“No need to be so excited it’s just us.”, Yugi replied as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
“Oh, that’s that Yugi guy right? Didn’t you duel him in Battle City?”, Emi questioned.
“Yeah, your looking at the King of Games here!”, Jonouchi said as he gestured to Yugi.
“Woah cool!”, Emi replied.
“Oh uh...this is my little sister Emi.”, Aichi introduced gesturing Emi.
“Sister?!”, the Yugi gang gasped.
Jonouchi bent down to Aichi’s level.
“Don’t tell me she has crazy psychic powers too?”, Jonouchi whispered, causing Aichi to sweat drop.
“Uh...no. At least I don’t think so.”, Aichi replied.
“You don’t think so?”, Jonouchi replied as he pulled back sweat dropping.
“Hopefully it doesn’t run in the family.”, Honda whispered nervously.
“Yeah…”, Anzu replied as she sweat dropped.
“Since your here do you want to duel, Yugi?”, Aichi asked with a light blush.
“Gosh, why are you always so nervous, kid?”, Jonouchi questioned.
“I’d love to Aichi! It’s time to duel!”, Yugi replied.
“He said the thing!”, a black haired teen with v shaped hair and brown eyes with a grey uniform said.
“Oh my god this is awesome!”, the brown haired guy from before gushed.
Yugi chuckled, blushing nervously at all the attention he was getting.
“Their like two anxious peas in a pot.”, Anzu commented.
“Are we going to duel in here. I don’t think the holograms would fit.”, Yugi replied as Aichi blinked.
“Oh...yeah that’s true. We were dueling retro style with the Battle City rules in here since there’s still a lot of people who don’t have duel disks.”, Aichi replied.
“Oh? Retro’s fine.”, Yugi assured.
“Okay.”, Aichi replied as he nodded.
“You guys should use the standing fight table.”, Shin suggested.
“Who wants to stand and fight without the duel disks anymore?”, Misaki questioned, making Shin sulk.
“Well, how was I supposed to know that Kaiba would build portable hologram systems to duel with?!”, Shin questioned.
“I guess we’ll sit?”, Aichi asked.
“Yeah.”, Yugi replied.
“Oh man this will be awesome! It’s like Godzilla vs Kong or Devilman vs Mazinger Z!”, the brown haired teen gushed, embarrassing the two.
“Heh, I could take them.”, the v haired teen proclaimed as he crossed his arms.
“Oh really why don’t we duel tough guy?”, Jonouchi suggested.
“Alright I’ll take you on 3rd place Duelist Kingdom guy!”, the v haired teen replied, causing a tick mark to appear on Jonouchi’s head.
“Hey it’s Katsuya Jonouchi!!! And it was second place! I lost to Yugi!”, Jonouchi corrected.
“Yeah, whatever 3rd place guy my name is Katsumi Morikawa! You will forever remember my name after the beat down your about to endure!”, Morikawa proclaimed, causing many in the shop to sweat drop.
“You're going to wipe the floor with him, Jonouchi. He’s the worst duelist I’ve ever seen.”, Kamui commented.
“As if! I’ll show you Kamui!”, Morikawa growled.
Aichi and Yugi sweat dropped at the conversation around them.
“Are they always like this?”, Yugi questioned.
“Would you believe it’s usually worse?”, Aichi replied, making Yugi chuckle nervously.
“I know that feeling.”, Yugi replied.
Kai and Miwa had seated themselves down at one of the tables. Some duelists had actually lined up to challenge the aloof fighter.
Yugi noticed Yami’s spirit hovering over his shoulder.
“Oh, it’s just a normal duel for fun Yami.”, Yugi said.
“Fun?”, Yami questioned.
“Yeah, it’s not always shadow realm and convoluted plots.”, Yugi replied.
“Oh, hello Yami.”, Aichi greeted waving at the spirit.
“Who’s he waving at?”, Miwa questioned, confused.
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