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wordsbyrian · 1 year

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Babysitting - Alexia Putellas x Reader

A/N: Multiple people requested a sequel to Good with Kids. Then yesterday I told @wosobot that I would post in exchange for a place on her panini team.

Summary: R and Alexia spend the day babysitting R's niece (but bffr they're practically married so it's Alexia's niece too)

It doesn’t matter what you do for work, everyone looks forward to having days off.

Unfortunately for you, your job as a professional footballer means that for you, actual days off are few and far between. Even on days when you don’t have practice or a game, you find yourself being dragged by your agent from photoshoot to interview and back again.

And yet somehow, today on your day off, you find yourself on babysitting duty, having been suckered into taking your niece to see Barcelona’s men's team play.

Not the worst thing in the world, much better than photoshoots, but you would much rather stay here in bed all day.

Unfortunately, that plan is ruined by your girlfriend’s need to open the blinds and let light into your shared bedroom.

Groaning, you roll over, attempting to bury yourself further under the covers and away from the offending light. You’re stopped when the blanket is tugged from your grasp, exposing your body to the cold morning air.

“No, amor, por favor,” you whine, blindly reaching for the blanket.

“It’s time to get up,” she says, not giving in to your pleas.

“It’s my day off.”

“Si, and you promised to pick Valeria up at 11. It’s already 9:30.”

“That’s plenty of time,” you respond, rolling over to look at her and once again making grabby hands for the blanket. “Give it back please.”

Alexia just raises an eyebrow at you before dropping the offending item to the ground and leaving the room.

“Mujer malvada,” you mutter under your breath before climbing out of bed.

Making your way to the kitchen, you’re unsurprised to see Ale already sitting at the counter holding a cup of coffee and scrolling through her phone.

“What do you want to eat,” you ask, already beginning to search through the fridge to see what you could put together.

“I don’t really have time, Josep is going to be here in 10 minutes,” she tells you.

“I can have a breakfast burrito in your hand in 8,” you say, already beginning to pull out the necessary supplies.

Exactly 8 minutes later, just as you promised, you're handing her a burrito wrapped in foil, and almost simultaneously her phone rings, presumably Josep telling her he’s outside.

Rolling your eyes, you reach behind you and grab a second burrito, similarly wrapped.

“That’s for Josep,” you tell her, handing it over, “Text me when you're finished, Vali and I will come to get you so we can eat before going to the game.”

“Thank you,” Alexia says, leaning over to kiss you. “ Te amo, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too.” An hour later, you're rushing out of your apartment, phone pressed to your ear as you try to lock the door.

“Yes, Chimo, I know what time I said I was going to be there,” you say, interrupting yourself with a slight a-ha of success as you get the door locked. “But I also know that no one expects me to be on time for anything.”

You roll your eyes as your brother begins his rant about how you’ll need to grow up eventually.

“I’ll become responsible when I stop playing a kid's games for money,” you tell him. “I’ll be there in 10. Make sure my kid is ready to go.”

“Pretty sure Valeria is my child, not yours.”

“Not today. You can have her back at the end of the game.”

“Y/N,” he says, in a warning tone.

“Joaquim,” you mock.

“Please feed my daughter something other than junk food today.”

“Not your daughter today. See you in a bit.”

You’re at Chimo’s mother-in-law’s house at exactly the, new, time you said you would be.

Within 5 minutes, you begin to realize precisely what you’ve gotten yourself into.

By the time you're waiting in a parking lot for Alexia, you’ve made a million and one stops, spending money at just about every one.

So now, leaning against the car while Vali takes a nap in the backseat, it feels like you can finally catch your breath.

Your sense of serenity is broken, but instantly regained, by the sound of someone familiar calling your name.

Looking up you're unsurprised to see your girlfriend walking towards you.

“Hola, mi reina. How was your day,” you ask when she gets close enough.

You get an eye roll in response before Alexia answers with words.

“Waste of time,” she says. “What’d you two get up to?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure we emptied my bank account,” you tell her, earning a laugh. “Vali wants to tell you about it at lunch.”

“Well, she’s a better storyteller than you are anyway,” she says, stepping away from you to make her way to the passenger seat.

“Rude,” you respond, watching her, “I like your pants by the way.”

“You like the sight of my butt in these pants you mean.”

“That too.”

The ride to the restaurant isn’t a very long one but it feels even shorter with the way it’s easy for you to focus on the sound of Alexia’s voice and Valeria’s soft snores in the backseat.

The second you park the car a couple of blocks away from the restaurant it's like the kindergartener had never been asleep at all. She practically jumps out of the car before tugging you and Ale down the street while talking a mile a minute.

Once seated she recounts your day out.

“First, Tia was late picking me up,” Vali explains, earning you a glare from your girlfriend. “But she bought me an ice cream to make up for it.”

“Oh really, ice cream before lunch? Does your papa know?”

“No, but Tia said that when he asks I’m supposed to remind him, he's not the boss of her.”

Another hard stare from Alecia but you don’t do anything but shrug in response, smirking a little when she sighs and shakes her head at you.

Turning her attention back to Valeria, Alexia speaks again, “I wouldn’t listen to your tia this time, nenita, it might get you in trouble.”

“Si?”

“Si. Now, why don’t you tell me about all the other places you went to.”

Valeria instantly perks up before launching into her spiel.

“After we got ice cream, we went to the Lego store in the mall and we got soooo many legos,” she says, practically vibrating in her seat. “We even made figurines that look like all of us! Then we had to go into a couple of boring clothes stores because that was one of the reasons my mom let me come out today.”

“Hey,” you say, interrupting her, “Your mama isn’t in charge of me either.”

“Are you sure,” your niece asks, “Because we did everything she said we had to do.”

“That’s a coincidence,” you respond while rubbing the back of your neck.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Alexia attempting to hold back her laughter from her place seated next to Valeria, the little girl struggling to hold back her own giggles.

Taking offense to this, you glare at both of them before continuing to speak.

“Just be quiet and eat your food. Both of you.”

That obviously does nothing to get them to stop laughing at you, so you take your own instructions and turn your attention back to the plate in front of you.

By the time you leave the restaurant, it seems like your niece has more energy than ever while you feel the need to take a serious nap.

After a quick stop at the car to let Vali change into her Barça jersey and grab the jacket that she will definitely need by the end of the night, the three of you begin the walk to Camp Nou.

The walk to the stadium is quick, so you're fine with letting Valeria run, skip, and jump ahead of you and Ale, occasionally calling her back when she begins to get too far.

Unfortunately, the short walk isn't as peaceful as it could be because you and Alexia find yourselves being approached multiple times by fans asking for photos and autographs.

You do take a few but eventually, you make your way inside and to the box where some of your teammates and club officials are mingling while waiting for kick-off.

You do your best to greet and talk to everyone but it's a little difficult with Valeria attached to your leg (and eventually in your arms once you give in to her whining) the child is suddenly more shy than you've ever seen her.

The clinginess lasts for a while and you’re unsurprised when she plops directly into your lap once you’ve taken your seat.

You don't mind too much, using the opportunity to calmly explain the action of the game to her in a way that's easy for her to understand.

It goes smoothly for the first 30 minutes but then Patri and Pina begin ‘sneaking’ her candy and treats when they think you aren’t paying attention. So you are then stuck with a squirmy little kid on your lap.

By half-time, you need a snack of your own and your legs need a break so you make her stand up so that you could get to your own feet.

Motioning for her to sit back down you begin to walk off only to feel a tug on the back of your shirt.

“What's up pulguita,” you ask, turning around and leaning down.

“Where are you going,” she questions, pouting up at you.

“Gonna take a walk and find a good snack, I was gonna ask what you wanted but you’ve just had a team of people trying to fill you up on candy.”

“You’re gonna leave me here?”

“Do you need to use the restroom?”

“No.”

“Then you’ll be alright, Vali.”

That apparently isn’t very reassuring to the young girl because she continues staring at you but now her lower lip is quivering.

Rolling your eyes and sighing deeply, you pick Vali up under her arms and carry her the few steps to where Alexia is sitting (Patri and Pina had forced her to switch seats for their candy plot).

Standing in front of your girlfriend, you carefully place the child in her lap and take a step back.

When you receive a questioning look you sigh once again and say, “I need 5 minutes to move without her attached to my leg.”

That gets a few laughs from your teammates who are close enough to hear but Alexia just nods giving you the go-ahead, readjusting your niece on her lap.

Exactly 5 minutes later you’re walking back to your seat only to see Mapi in it. Scanning the row, you spot the empty one by Alexia, which you immediately plop yourself into.

“Sup,” you say only to be immediately shushed as she motions to Valeria who is sleeping soundly despite the noise of the crowd.

“How,” you begin to ask only to be shushed again.

Rolling your eyes, you settle more fully into the seat while letting one of your arms wrap around her shoulders, prepared to watch the second health of the game.

It’s a boring one, with neither team scoring and the score remaining nil-nil through 90 minutes.

When it’s all said and done, you're hit with the realization that you're going to have to carry 40 pounds of dead weight back to the car as your niece shows no signs of stirring.

For what must be the hundredth time today, you sigh before bending over and taking Valeria into your arms.

Once you have her settled, you reach out your free hand for Alexia to hold as the two of you say your goodbyes before making your way out of the stadium and to your parked car.

Throughout the entirety of the walk, you’re acutely aware of the fans taking photos of you all but you pay them no real attention this time, only briefly letting go of your girlfriend’s hand so you can cover Valeria’s head more fully with the hood of her jacket.

There’s no need for her face to be plastered all over the internet, she didn’t sign up for this.

Once you’re all in the car, you’re not surprised when ALe pulls out her phone and begins to scroll casually running her fingers across the knuckles of the head you have placed on her thigh.

“Amor,” she says suddenly.

“Hmm?”

“Have you seen this?”

“I think my phone’s dead,” you say, quickly glancing over at her. “Que pasa?”

“They’ve already started posting pictures of us at the game.”

“Vale.”

“Vale?”

“Si, vale.”

“That’s all you have to say,” she asks.

“Do you want me to say something else?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” you say seriously, “Are they good pictures? How does my hair look?”

“Y/N/N.”

“Amor, it’s not like people don’t know that we’re dating,” you tell her calmly. “They also know that pulguita comes with me sometimes, it’s all okay, everything’s okay.”

“So it’s fine then.”

“Yup,” you respond, making the turn into your brother’s neighborhood. “The only thing left to do is carry Vali and all her stuff to her room”

“I’ll take the bags.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?”

“Because you’re not as dumb as you look,” Alexia says affectionately.

#woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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bluejaysandblackbats · 18 days

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Hair Trigger

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam, YJ98

Summary: A junior at Gotham University, Jason finds it difficult to conceal his worsening mental health from his family and his friend, Jon Lane Kent. Family secrets are revealed and boundaries are pushed as Jason and Laney struggle to navigate through school, their romantic feelings, and their trauma. Could the reintroduction of Laney Kent be more trouble than it's worth, or is it just what Jason needed to confront the demons of his past?

I will also do trigger warnings for chapters and if there is smut I have the chapter(s) tagged so you don't have to worry about nsfw in the fic if you're just here for the story itself.

Chapters: 25/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Jonathan Lane Kent, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, Natalia Knight, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Cassie Sandsmark, Chris Kent, Bart Allen, Original Character(s)

Relationships: JayLaney, Clois, TimKon

Additional Tags: University AU, No Powers AU, Sharing A Bed, Romance, Angst

Chapter Twenty-Five: Cutting Class

Jason cut through the park on his way home for lunch, and he let himself in. Soft music played in throughout the apartment. "Honey, I'm home!" Jason announced. Laney sat on the floor next to Gus. Laney never even looked up. Jason sat across from him and touched his hand. "Baby, you okay?"

Laney nodded and hugged Jason. "Hi, Jay," Laney whispered, "Sorry if I'm being weird. I just woke up from a nap. I did your laundry and met your laundry buddy."

"Nana?" Jason asked. Laney nodded.

Jason leaned forward and kissed Laney's forehead. "Jason, I made paninis. It's in the oven... Two for you two for me." Jason smiled and put on a mitt to get the paninis out of the oven. He put them on a plate and sat back on the floor with Laney.

They ate quietly, and Laney chuckled. "Taste good?" Laney asked. Jason nodded and covered his mouth as he smiled. "Let me see you smile."

"Laney, my mouth was full," Jason smiled, "But thank you so much for lunch, Lane. Do you mind if my mom comes over for dinner?"

"Did you already invite her for tonight?" Laney asked.

"No, not for tonight. Sorry... I meant Saturday night," Jason explained, "Just the three of us. I was thinking we could go out to a little restaurant." Laney nodded and smiled as he ate.

"What does your mom think of me?" Laney asked.

Jason furrowed his brows and looked at Laney. "My mom sent me a text the other day asking if I was being nice to you," Jason leaned over and took a bite of Laney's sandwich. "She knows without you, I probably wouldn't have been so open to forgiving her."

Laney finished eating his sandwich and lay his head on Jason's shoulder. "Well, you know how my parents feel about you. My parents have all but planned our wedding," Laney answered, and Jason gave Laney a bite of his sandwich.

"If our families can survive Thanksgiving at my dad's, they can pick the date," Jason joked, "And then you, me, and our brothers are riding to Chris's game in a week or two." Laney kissed Jason on the cheek and put his plate in the sink. Jason finished his sandwich and washed his hands in the sink before answering emails on his phone.

"What's that?" Laney asked as he nudged Jason. Jason grinned and handed Laney his phone. "Get the fuck out of here!" Laney exclaimed as he jumped up and down before nearly tackling Jason in an embrace.

"It's only the first part like Bart, and I haven't even started printing yet, but I—." Laney kissed Jason and grabbed his face. Jason blushed and pressed his forehead into Laney's shoulder. "I can't remember what I was gonna say."

"Can I see the book?" Laney asked. Jason kissed Laney's neck. "Is that a yes?"

"No. I want you to see it as a hardcover," Jason replied, "I gotta go back to school in a minute, but I was thinking we could take a walk..." Laney nodded, and he got up and put his shoes on. Jason grabbed Laney's hand and his bag, and they walked around the park in circles. Jason swung Laney's hand as they walked ad thunder cracked in the background. Laney's face lit up as lightning struck, and Jason smiled at the feeling of Laney squeezing his hand. "It's gonna rain. It'd be a shame to miss such a nice storm—."

"Jason, you don't have—."

Lightning flashed as they kissed in front of the fountain. Laney walked around the border of the fountain, and Jason tugged at his hand. They walked deep into the center of the park, and as the rain began to fall, Jason whispered, "Remember during winter break when we were kids, and it rained in Metropolis? You told me that nothing was more exciting than watching lightning strike." It started to sprinkle on them.

"You also forgot to mention that we stayed up talking that entire night. You were the first boy I ever opened up to, and it felt good. Like I know you always get on me for not telling you how I feel about things, but you're the only person outside of my family that I'll even talk about my feelings with," Laney replied. Jason softened and looked at the sincerity in Laney's eyes. "I've been thinking about everything that happened lately, and I have some really bittersweet feelings on what I'm about to say—."

"You're breaking up with me, aren't—?"

"What the fuck? No! I wanted to ask you something. Please just listen before you jump to conclusions," Laney chuckled, "Sylvia is moving out, but she's not gonna move in with her girlfriend until I find a new roommate." Jason stopped in his tracks, and thunder roared, startling them both.

Even after the momentary fright wore off from the thunder, Jason stood frozen. "Are you asking me to move in with you?" Jason asked. Laney nodded.

"The nice thing is if you get tired of me, there's another bedroom. Then Gus is getting a little attached to you, and I know we've been together a little less than a month, and I've probably given you high blood pressure in this little bit of time... When I wake up and know you're there, I hear music," Laney whispered, and Jason chuckled. "No, I know it's corny, but I've only ever felt this way around you. I can give you your space when you need it. I can reorganize the spice rack, I can buy different laundry soap—." Jason kissed him.

"Shut up. I have to give thirty days' notice," Jason smiled, and lightning flashed. "Can we tell my mom at dinner?"

The rain poured down harder, and Laney shivered. "Yuh-huh. Now let's go get a coffee. I'm freezing," Laney whispered. Jason gave Laney's hand another little squeeze, and they were on their way.

Once they got their coffees, Jason and Laney walked back to Jason's apartment. "Laney," Jason stopped him after closing the door. "Your clothes are soaked." Laney chuckled and threw off his wet clothes. Jason did the same, and he went back to his room. "I'm gonna throw on some sweats. You want something?" Jason whispered. Laney nodded.

"The green sweatshirt in your drawer," Laney replied, and Jason went through his drawers and pulled on a pair of sweats. "And can we talk about how you take your coffee black?"

"That's how my dad always makes his coffee," Jason replied. Jason came out of his room with the sweater for Laney in one hand, and he carried his hamper in the other. After Laney put on Jason's sweater, they sat on the couch, and Laney took his coffee off the table. Jason lay his head on Laney's lap and turned the tv on. Laney ran his hand through Jason's hair, rustling his fingers through it gently.

Jason curled up and closed his eyes. "I used to hate thunderstorms... When we were up that whole night, we sat close to each other, and all I wanted was to hold your hand. Something about you makes me feel so small in a good way," Jason confessed. Laney smiled and leaned down to press a kiss on Jason's forehead.

Jason's phone rang. "It's Dick... Don't ask me how I know, I just do," Jason mumbled as he sat up and answered the phone. "Hey, Dick."

"You're not in class?" Dick asked. Jason answered with a noise. "Good, are you busy?"

Jason looked at Laney, and Laney shrugged. "I'm with Lane, but we're just watching tv. Why?" Jason asked.

"Oh, tell Lane that I said hi. I actually called to ask about him. How's everything going with you two?" Dick asked.

Jason muted himself. "Can I tell him the good news?" Jason asked. Laney nodded and kissed Jason's cheek.

"Wait, no, let me tell him. Put it on speaker," Laney whispered. Jason un-muted himself and put the phone on speaker.

"You there?" Dick asked.

"Yeah, sorry. Laney just wanted to ask me something... We actually have some good news—."

Dick let out a loud noise over the phone. "Jason, you gotta let me be your best man—." Laney laughed.

"No, we're moving in together. Well, Jason's moving into my place, but not until late next month," Laney announced. Jason smiled and kissed Laney's neck.

"Aww, congrats! Wait, what about your roommate?" Dick asked. "Jason said you had a roommate."

"That's the bittersweet part. Sylvia's moving in with her girlfriend, but not until Jason's officially ready to move in," Laney replied, "How are you?"

"Good, I'm gonna be in San Francisco for a few days, but I wanted to know if everything was good with everybody before I go," Dick replied.

Jason lay back down on Laney's lap. "Why are you going to California?" Jason asked as he closed his eyes.

"Scouting stuff, and I'm visiting some friends," Dick answered.

Laney gave Jason's head a playful scratch, and Jason let out a soft noise. "Did you just purr?" Laney whispered. Jason smiled and touched Laney's hand as an invitation to continue. "Sorry, he's going to sleep. We'll call you back," Laney whispered in his soft tone.

"Goodnight, Jason. Goodnight, Lane," Dick laughed, and he hung up.

"Baby, don't go to sleep," Laney whined. Jason mumbled something, and Laney leaned close to Jason to listen to his voice. "I can't hear you."

Jason opened one eye and mumbled, "Behind my ears again." Laney grinned and rubbed his thumbs in little circles behind Jason's ears. Laney went back to scratching Jason's scalp.

Jason hummed as Laney massaged his head, only stopping to play music on his phone. "I like this a whole lot," Jason whispered. Laney bent forward and pressed a bunch of little kisses to Jason's face. "What song is this?"

"I made this," Laney answered. Jason sat up and opened his eyes. "No, lay back down. It's not even done yet." Jason took Laney's phone and held it up to his ear. Jason sat on his knees on the couch, and Laney pulled him back down. "Come back down."

Jason gave Laney his phone back, and he climbed over Laney to get off the couch. Laney grabbed his waist, and Jason let out a laugh involuntarily. "I'm gonna go shower," Jason laughed, and Laney let go.

"I wanna come with you," Laney playfully whined.

"You can come and sit in there while I shower, but I shower alone," Jason offered. Laney chuckled and took his hand. "You're so cute. Come on."

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jenyifer · 2 months

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The Trainee ep3 Initial reaction

Bad news I only have screen shots of part 4 but considering how S L O W the show is no big loss.

Let’s chat a little before the photo review. I like that Jane isn’t auto in love with Ryan it’s like they are slowly getting on the same frequency. I don’t think he was a bad boss in any of the previous eps either. Yes. He’s busy. Pressed like a panini. It’s very sweet. Ryan is confused as to why things are going so well but I think it’s because Jane is getting slowly attuned to him. Like they were made to be a pair. It’s a beautiful slow dance. But it is slow. I’m not bored it’s just not a ton to speculate on. We all saw the episode? It’s mostly Meta Content about production which is interesting. I enjoyed Pie’s friendships and her struggles. But as it comes to Ryan and Jane the biggest indicator of affection is the Ryan game they are playing. I adored the saving private ryan refs very cute and unexpected. I really hope romance wise things get going soon anywhere. I really like prop guy but I get hella annoyed with the str8 couple. But I assume I’m supposed to. I’ll keep watching but I’ll am a little cool towards things if that makes sense. It’s fun but… give me something to think about.

Photo review

I watched pt 1-3 on my tv so don’t have any snaps but our girl is 100% correct. Jane is intimidating. He doesn’t have time to make things easy for Ryan and Pie. The difference is Ryan wants to know Why Jane is the way he is and try to assist in making him relaxed. Ryan is happiness when Jane has his peaks of soft. But Pie respects Jane puts him on a pedestal of what she wants to be. She doesn’t see him as a human. More of a goal she wants to be. Also Off Jumpol is 50/10 on the sexy scale.

Okay so my dad likes to tell me when I start a new job, “you aren’t doing it right if you aren’t crying in the bathroom and in the bed after work questioning why you thought you could do the job in the first place” I find this applies to switching teams or any new work situation. No one trusts you and they really shouldn’t you are new and will make mistakes. However if they don’t depend on your or make you feel strong the pressure builds and builds. It’s hard you feel so defeated. You finally get chance to break out of the minmal space of being new or the intern and things turn to flames then find out no one expected you to do good anyways. Eventually you’ll find a team member who will push you into chances then you’ll find your niche. I had to be on a team with a new member to understand what was going on with this. I think… it’s easy when you are new to blame yourself. It’s everyone’s duty to help the new person feel part of the team and train them up. Yes they are going to mess up but I find that’s easier when they think of me as someone who will help them not make mistakes next time.

But on an ADHD human who struggles to get medication I have to go through the Why am I like this? Judging others then fucking up because of my brain and it is horrible but… you work in a team. I hope Pie realizes that.

I love these brother sister in the neurodivergent buddy coded vibes we have going on here in my opinion. I feel like Pie is very ADHD masking medicated but I’m bias. She doesn’t understand humans and can’t care about things beyond her special interests. Ryan is also very much hiding in his head. Pie is jealous of Ryan but I think she likes him in his own newbie ways. He’s hard not to love. Also their shirts.

“Find out who you are doing it for” obvs answer is Jane

“Good, good!

Time, time!” Maybe a reference to completing a task or finding the good times in tasks is getting to know her coworkers.

We have to protect Ryan he’s a clumsy silent bby I’m thinking about kuuderes like Mori from OHSC they just usually aren’t smol like Ryan.

Extremely beautiful that Jane stopped his everything to focus on Ryan. He didn’t have to. Jane wanted to this is where I was finally feeling the more than coworker vibe. Idk maybe it’s just a friendly vibe but it’s something new.

Jane wants to care for Ryan and keep him around. I adore these shoe themes even if the shoes are weirdly matching???? Am I crazy? Didn’t get a good shot but I think black white Nikes. Jane is being slowly boiled in Ryan’s actions to show Jane is a person who can trust Ryan.

He’s impressed Ryan is thinking of him outside of work. I’m triggered cause now I wanna go watch saving private Ryan again. However I think I’ll settle for Ghost Of You by my chemical romance.

I adore Ryan’s relationship with Ink. I love the lighting and the set dressing of the shop crowded but not a home the home for Ryan is the people. What they can offer with their hands and time.

#the trainee #the trainee the series #janeryan #jane x ryan #the trainee ep 3 #the trainee episode 3 #Thai bl #offgun #off jumpol #gun atthaphan #Jenny’s watching

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 6 months

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Our Angel of Brahma, pt. i

I rewrote the original piece that started this au. There are some new details added in and some grammar mistakes finally corrected. @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @ananxiousgenz @gwenlena @demonic-panini @the-private-eye

SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING BEGINS. TIRED VOICE: Some say, that the Legend isn't true. Some say that it's a bedtime story that a mother made up to put her children to sleep so they would be less distressed in the morning when she didn't come home. At least one person believes that he built the Hanataba Clinic. We don’t know everything. But here is what we do know: SOUND: PAPER SHUFFLING ACROSS TILE FLOOR. TIRED VOICE: A young revolutionary infiltrated New Kinshasa and got to the Reactor Core of the floating city and the Guardian Angel System. He pulled the Reactor and started a ten-minute countdown destabilizing the city's gravity field. A lone constable arrived first on the scene and fought revolutionary. He was stabbed to death. The revolutionary then put the Reactor back in place, restabilizing New Kinshasa, putting the Guardian Angel System back online, and was stormed by several more Constables. He made a speech to the city and to the planet of Brahma. Promising that if he came this close to knocking the city out of the sky, then he would someday come back to finish the job. (DEEP SIGH) New Kinshasa never fell on us that day. A curfew was instilled and one by one, friends and family members were dragged out of their beds, lined up shoulder to shoulder, and killed in the dead of night. We never see them again. We don't get to bury our dead. The Guardian Angel System is meant to protect them from us. It is meant to teach us a lesson. It is meant to be the key to preventing another Galactic Civil War. There are whispers that the Solar Planets call it a war crime. There is only person who stood up and threatened to end it all. Only one person who dared defy New Kinshasa. Our Angel of Brahma. He gave us hope. And we soared with him, we rallied in the streets, we rioted for days, we starved ourselves in protest. The Dome Wardens stopped showing up to their shifts, forcing the Constables to stretch themselves so thin to monitor Brahma’s storms. People like my father were organizing how to get aid to those who would need it most in case things turned further South. We were in it for the long haul. We sat outside the shuttle station heading to New Kinshasa and body blocked the Constables from leaving. And we waited. And waited. And waited. And he never came back. Vanished, like the mother who tucked her children into bed a final time and waited outside their home to be taken away. Like the husband who pressed a bruising kiss against his spouse's mouth a final time as they were pried apart. Our Angel vanished. Twenty years have passed. No one dares to breathe the name in public or else the System will shoot you down on the spot. The historians have already started to erase our revolution. The Constables say that they caught him ages ago and locked him up somewhere off-planet where no one will ever find him. Dark Matters classified all of Brahman and New Kinshasan history before the War, and slapped the label "Class-X Radical" on everything that came after it. They all want us to forgive, and forget. But I refuse. I refuse to let go. And I refuse to believe any of that. Our Angel would not abandon us so quickly. I choose to believe that he is alive, that Peter Nureyev is alive. I choose to believe that he will come back to us and either liberate Brahma or obliterate us trying like he swore he would. I choose to believe that they never caught him, and they never will, and he will return. I choose to believe... (DEEP BREATH) I just hope that whoever this recording reaches, it isn't too late. And if he's out there... Peter Nureyev, whoever you may be, wherever you are, I believe in you. Don't give up hope in us, please. SOUND: COMMS BEEPS. RECORDING ENDS.

- Found recording of a tired middle-aged Revolutionary who hasn't given up hope yet. The abandoned storage unit the recording was found in was full of mostly junk. The unit belonged to an art collector, but why would they have owned so much junk? And where/when did they come into possession of the comms? I found the comms in a shoe box wrapped up in paper with a note, written in a language (?) or code (?) I do not recognize. Filling the empty space of the box were pamphlets again, written in some code I can’t decipher. Along with this recording (found on an old model comms) was a second recording of the same tired-voiced Revolutionary singing a song. When the comms was rewound back to the earliest recording it crashed. TO DO LIST: 1) Find someone to refurbish the comms, 2) who is the Revolutionary in the recordings?, 3) WHO IS PETER NUREYEV?

Calypso scribbles her final notes down before tossing her pen aside. She leans back in her office chair and massages her neck. After several dry months of no current events and no interesting enough historical columns picked up by any Solar Newspaper, she was running out of options.

She scrapped together whatever creds she could spare and bought an abandoned storage unit on Mars hoping that it would turn up something good enough. According to the company selling it, the original owner was an art collector who traveled the galaxy far and wide. They used the unit to store things that were important to them, and planned on selling off someday. The collector never got around to any of this though having died six months back from a sudden heart attack. Goddess rest their soul, Calypso placed a bid, and thought at the time she scored big.

Turns out, most of the paintings they were withholding were either fakes or reproductions. Many of the cardboard boxes that she was promised would be chock-full of ancient artifacts were stuffed full of ancient Earthen crystal glass swans. So many swans. So many, Calypso didn’t know what a swan was until she did, and quite frankly wished she could go back to a time BS– Before Swans.

After opening the seventh box of glass swans (who in right their mind needs that many swans?), she had concluded this “investment” to be a bust.

She still had that standing offer from Mercury Spectacular Sci-Fi Publishing. Calypso didn’t write fiction, but she did write a more thoughtful article on Mister Mercury’s mansion above Mars than the last five. Color the man easy to impress because he coaxed her to give it a shot. Contact my agent in a week with whatever you got. And she tried, she really tried this time, but the best she came up with started with It was a dark and stormy night and ended with Their deaths were estimated to have occurred around three in the morning. Mister Mercury’s publishing agency did respond back to her email, and they did start off with a compliment, but that was already more than enough to convince Calypso that she did not need to be a fiction writer. She closed the email and hasn’t opened it since. Ignorance is bliss they always say. Maybe if she groveled enough they would reconsider and give her a second shot. Maybe her writing was bad enough that they took pity on her and offered her a chance to join them and she was the idiot to not keep reading.

That’s when she opened the eighth box. A shoebox for old work boots. Inside were pamphlets written in code and a note wrapped around an old comms. Which brings everything back up to now.

New Kinshasa. Brahma. Guardian Angel System. Reactor core.

The Angel of Brahma.

“Peter Nureyev…” She grows incredibly tense waiting for something terrible to happen. Maybe the G.A.S. would strike her down just like the Revolutionary said it would. Nothing happens. And nothing will. The Solar Planets do call the G.A.S. a war crime. They do detest it and they do not condone its use. But no one’s done anything about it. No one except Peter Nureyev.

Calypso chews on her thumb while tapping a finger against her notes. 3) Who is Peter Nureyev? She knows just about as much about Brahma and New Kinshasa as the average person. Which is virtually nothing. But if this recording is real, and the Revolutionary real, and Peter Nureyev real, then she now knows a lot more than the average person.

“Fuck.” With no better story to tell, and no better history to research, Calypso leans back over her desk and jots down everything she thought she knew about Brahma.

#ask to be tagged or removed #surprisingly did not get done with this at 2am #but rather 1230am #go me.#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #private eye's keys go jingle jangle #a hotboy's writing #our angel of brahma #i let calypso say fuck bc juno cant <3 #and also bc i love making characters swear. thats the part of me i put into them <333

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blank-17 · 1 year

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Skyler- Alright bro! I just got payed. I can put my dick in a panini press!😆

Hanzo- 😐

Hanzo- We just got in the car, are you ok?

☝🏽The idea to make this post

I wanted to show more of my oc but I’m afraid of exposing to much. I also wanted to make a comic with her and her background I hope to do that soon but I have no clue how to draw and shit so🤷🏽‍♀️

#platonic #platonic relationships #mortal kombat #mk11 #mk fandom #mk scorpion #hanzo hasashi #I’ll talk more about her if you want me to #incorrect quotes

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finalgirlkateausten · 2 years

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hi! A prompt for will x mac, if you're writing for them?

“ hey, go rest yourself, alright? let me handle the chores; you can’t be lifting these boxes in your condition! “

absolutely!! i have so much newsroom brainrot rn so thank you for this prompt 💖 (from this list if anyone else has requests for any of my fandoms/ships 😉)

"Alright, Billy, since we can finally agree that the paint is dry enough for me to set foot in the nursery, it's officially time to set everything up," MacKenzie says, bracing a box of board and picture books against her hip. The grip is awkward, but the third trimester of pregnancy means she can't carry anything in front of her unless it's small enough to balance on her bump.

"Woah, woah," Will interrupts, coming around the corner hefting the box that contains the currently-disassembled crib, "go sit down, Mac, alright? Let me handle carrying the stuff, you can't be lifting all these boxes in your condition."

She raises both eyebrows skeptically. "Will, with your back, you're hardly more suited to carrying the heavy bits than I am. How about we just take this one step at a time and hope no one gets hurt?"

Her husband huffs in protest but agrees with a grudging nod. "Alright. In that case, what's the first step?"

"The crib and the dresser will definitely be the biggest elements," Mac says slowly, pursing her lips, "but the crib is more exciting. So, finish dragging that in, and I'll start putting these books on the shelves you put up while you get out all the crib pieces."

"IKEA is amazingly useful and so angering all at the same time," Will grumbles. "Looks so good all set up in the store... but actually figuring out how to set it up is hell on earth."

"Don't be so dramatic," MacKenzie laughs, looking over her shoulder with a teasing smile. "It's a bonding experience."

"Just me proving that I would do anything for the two of you," Will agrees, his smile giving away the lack of true irritation in the room. He pulls a box cutter from the back pocket of his jeans, and Mac hides her pleased laughter by refocusing on the bookshelves.

An hour later, the crib is... slightly more assembled, but even Mac's enthusiasm has dampened. She scowls at the wrinkled paper of instructions, looking back and forth from it to their messy pile of crib pieces. "Why the fuck would they not give us all the correct screws for putting the bars together?"

"I'm pretty sure they did, Mac," Will replies, his voice tired and a wrinkle in his own brow. "I counted all the little bits when I opened it all up... the screw's gotta be here somewhere."

"Damnit," she swears. "Fucking soft carpet that you were sweet enough and stubborn enough to put in all by yourself that's practically the same color as the fucking screws..."

"Hey." Will lays a hand on her shoulder. "Forget the screws, I already have a headache from all this fine print. Why don't we take a lunch break?"

Ordinarily, MacKenzie would want to see the task through to the end, now that she's started it, but she's so damn hungry all the time now that the promise of food could distract her from most anything. "Hm. That does sound nice."

"What are you craving this week?" Her husband asks, beginning a slow massage on her hunched shoulders."You liked it when we made pesto together last week..."

"Mhm," she agrees, closing her eyes. "What's that diner, on the other side of Manhattan... it has all those amazing sandwiches... that chicken panini with the mozzarella and pesto sauce... they make it hot, it's so good."

"I remember that place," Will says, grunting as he stands. Even Mac can hear his knee pop, but he offers her a hand anyway. "Alright. Well, put on a sweater, it's cold as balls out there."

"You're going to be good at this," MacKenzie says, giggling as she presses a kiss to her cheek. "Worrying is already second nature for you."

"Only 'cause I love you so much," Will mutters, pulling her into him and pressing a kiss behind her ear. She smiles, turning to look back at him.

"Well, good. Because I love you, too."

#prompt fill #anon #drabble requests #the newsroom #otp: it’s not but it can be #will mcavoy #mackenzie mchale #pregnancy cw #yay baby fluff!! i am in my element #will x mac

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belle-et-inspirante · 2 years

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Panini Happy: Kathy Strahs Can Help You Create Healthy Night Out Dinners With Recipes for Paninis, Casseroles & Much More

Small Version: whenever Kathy Strahs received a panini push from the woman aunt one xmas, little did she know it would encourage a burgeoning job for the culinary arts. She began the Panini successful blog in 2008 in an effort to share the woman recipes making use of world. Your blog’s appeal encouraged the woman to publish publications, like the award-winning “8Ã8 Cookbook,” a collection of quality recipes for families. In her own publications and websites, Kathy stocks delicious, time night-worthy dinners that can deliver individuals better collectively. She actually is continually mastering new skills â both cooking and media-related â as she grows her audience through the woman posting company, Burnt Cheese hit.

Show

Lots of trendy cooking area devices get made use of the first couple of weeks people very own all of them, but, next, they’re frequently directed toward back regarding the shelf or a box when you look at the basement. That’s what Kathy Strahs thought would occur aided by the panini press that the woman sibling offered this lady for Christmas time in 2007.

The panini press was actually certainly Oprah’s “ideal Things” that year, and folks bought the nifty instrument in droves simply because of its power to create perfectly grilled sandwiches. However, many of the presses went the risk of getting thrown apart the moment the newness dressed in down.

While she was on maternity leave along with her newborn girl, Kathy decided to maximize her brand-new cooking area device. She started a blog â Panini grateful â to record her efforts and provide a much-needed imaginative retailer. She realized the panini press was actually with the capacity of even more than basic ham and mozzarella cheese sandwiches, therefore she set out to generate fun dinners with it.

The blog in addition held her answerable as she contributed her recipes with other panini enthusiasts and inspired them to put their presses to utilize â in the place of place them in storage. The website’s audience grew, therefore performed her social media following â which Kathy used to develop her reach.

“we started making use of social media marketing to interact with audience and other blog writers,” she mentioned. “I also started initially to go to conferences and fulfill various other blog writers; i discovered my personal tribe.” Given that weblog turned into significantly more than just a great side job, she turned into more dedicated to sharpening the woman abilities in photos, cooking, and authorship.

an author approached Kathy in 2013, and her basic book, “A Perfect Panini Press Cookbook,” soon adopted. Into the guide, she premiered 205 quality recipes that she perfected while nonetheless managing her character as a mother of two.

“it had been difficult to accomplish that a lot of photographs and meals, but we appreciated it,” she mentioned. “it had been in addition with this procedure that I was enthusiastic about business part, the advertising and marketing, and address layout.”

Kathy’s author worked to feature the woman in those components of her basic guide, processes that writers typically cannot take part in, hence knowledge would consistently assist their on the next large jobs.

Create Memories along with your mate While Cooking Tasty Meals

After the success of her basic cookbook, Kathy met with the idea for “The 8Ã8 Cookbook,” which showcases dishes built in a straightforward 8-inch square skillet. “This is basically the cookbook I would want to see in stores; I would get this,” she stated regarding idea. Since she had not seen these a cookbook, she developed one.

The meals include perfect size for families with small children but work equally as really for lovers having at-home time nights. “We enjoy cooking collectively, picking new ingredients, additionally the low-stress knowledge that preparing yields,” Kathy said of their along with her spouse. One dish from “The 8Ã8 Cookbook” that produces a fantastic date-night food will be the Rosemary Roasted Game Hen With Roasted Grapes for 2.

“Cooking is a good task for partners, even though it goes awry,” stated Kathy, remembering a period of time she along with her husband had been online dating. The pair of them, with her sis, had chose to make a pasta meal that contained mushrooms in a truffle oil cream sauce. Because they were cooking, they discovered that there was actually an ingredient from inside the recipe that all of these won’t consume.

“while we didn’t eat it, it ended up being a fun knowledge that we nevertheless chuckle about nowadays,” she informed united states.

The meals when you look at the cookbook create enough food for just two â and often have actually leftovers for overnight. Beyond the meal, the dishes provides you with some high quality amount of time in the kitchen with special someone.

Discovering victory by Self-Publishing an Award-Winning Cookbook

Kathy created Burnt Cheese click so she could submit “The 8Ã8 Cookbook” by herself. With this choice, she began raising resources to cover editors and graphic designers to help bring her concept to fruition.

She done a successful Kickstarter promotion that brought in $21,000. Together with the resources protected, she surely could complete “The 8Ã8 Cookbook” and acquire it inside arms for the backers by December 2015, simply eventually for your holidays. It went on to get the balance Fisher Award for ideal First Book-Nonfiction from private Book Publishers Association (IBPA).

2 yrs later, Kathy obtained the woman subsequent guide project, “The Lemonade stay Cookbook,” a step by step guide for children to create â and inventory â a lemonade stand. The publication has actually seen the share of achievements, winning the Gold Award Young Reader Nonfiction from IBPA and garnering a lot of mass media interest. The cookbook contains quality recipes for beverages, snacks, and crafts that can be offered to boost resources for jobs children are passionate about.

“It really is part cookbook and part manual with ideas to help young ones boost money for themselves or even assist others to âgive life a squeeze’ and come up with things happen,” she stated.

Usually Experimenting With unique preparing skill & Techniques

Over the years, Kathy provides branched out from the realm of paninis with Cooking unofficially, a weblog that shares the meals she cooks in her own everyday life. She talks of their preparing style as approachable, and she uses plenty of fresh, high-quality components inside her everyday dishes.

“i love to learn about different cuisines in addition to their techniques for getting the correct designs and tastes,” she mentioned. Certainly one of her current interests is actually a Japanese bread-making strategy, using a slurry, which creates breads that stays gentle and fluffy for several times.

She is nonetheless a very active member of the cooking area, both on the internet and off. She looks in cooking sections on tv and even judges cooking competitions occasionally.

“The statements I have to my blog site and in my cookbook reviews validate every work i have done â and come up with me personally nervous doing more,” Kathy said. She did not state what her then job shall be, but it is a secure wager that the woman subsequent endeavor should be of the highest quality â and probably multiple tasty quality recipes.

un nuovo post è stato publicato su https://online-wine-shop.com/panini-happy-kathy-strahs-can-help-you-create-healthy-night-out-dinners-with-recipes-for-paninis-casseroles-much-more/

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mantruffles · 2 years

Text

Panini Happy: Kathy Strahs Can Help You Create Healthy Night Out Dinners With Recipes for Paninis, Casseroles & Much More

Show

Create Memories along with your mate While Cooking Tasty Meals

“while we didn’t eat it, it ended up being a fun knowledge that we nevertheless chuckle about nowadays,” she informed united states.

Discovering victory by Self-Publishing an Award-Winning Cookbook

“It really is part cookbook and part manual with ideas to help young ones boost money for themselves or even assist others to âgive life a squeeze’ and come up with things happen,” she stated.

Usually Experimenting With unique preparing skill & Techniques

She is nonetheless a very active member of the cooking area, both on the internet and off. She looks in cooking sections on tv and even judges cooking competitions occasionally.

leggi tutto https://online-wine-shop.com/panini-happy-kathy-strahs-can-help-you-create-healthy-night-out-dinners-with-recipes-for-paninis-casseroles-much-more/

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blissful-moontrip · 2 years

Text

Panini Happy: Kathy Strahs Can Help You Create Healthy Night Out Dinners With Recipes for Paninis, Casseroles & Much More

Show

Create Memories along with your mate While Cooking Tasty Meals

“while we didn’t eat it, it ended up being a fun knowledge that we nevertheless chuckle about nowadays,” she informed united states.

Discovering victory by Self-Publishing an Award-Winning Cookbook

“It really is part cookbook and part manual with ideas to help young ones boost money for themselves or even assist others to âgive life a squeeze’ and come up with things happen,” she stated.

Usually Experimenting With unique preparing skill & Techniques

She is nonetheless a very active member of the cooking area, both on the internet and off. She looks in cooking sections on tv and even judges cooking competitions occasionally.

un nuovo post è stato publicato su https://online-wine-shop.com/panini-happy-kathy-strahs-can-help-you-create-healthy-night-out-dinners-with-recipes-for-paninis-casseroles-much-more/

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captainvegas · 2 years

Text

Panini Happy: Kathy Strahs Can Help You Create Healthy Night Out Dinners With Recipes for Paninis, Casseroles & Much More

Show

Create Memories along with your mate While Cooking Tasty Meals

“while we didn’t eat it, it ended up being a fun knowledge that we nevertheless chuckle about nowadays,” she informed united states.

Discovering victory by Self-Publishing an Award-Winning Cookbook

“It really is part cookbook and part manual with ideas to help young ones boost money for themselves or even assist others to âgive life a squeeze’ and come up with things happen,” she stated.

Usually Experimenting With unique preparing skill & Techniques

She is nonetheless a very active member of the cooking area, both on the internet and off. She looks in cooking sections on tv and even judges cooking competitions occasionally.

un nuovo post è stato publicato su https://online-wine-shop.com/panini-happy-kathy-strahs-can-help-you-create-healthy-night-out-dinners-with-recipes-for-paninis-casseroles-much-more/

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vini-on-line-miglior-prezzo · 2 years

Text

Panini Happy: Kathy Strahs Can Help You Create Healthy Night Out Dinners With Recipes for Paninis, Casseroles & Much More

Show

Create Memories along with your mate While Cooking Tasty Meals

“while we didn’t eat it, it ended up being a fun knowledge that we nevertheless chuckle about nowadays,” she informed united states.

Discovering victory by Self-Publishing an Award-Winning Cookbook

“It really is part cookbook and part manual with ideas to help young ones boost money for themselves or even assist others to âgive life a squeeze’ and come up with things happen,” she stated.

Usually Experimenting With unique preparing skill & Techniques

She is nonetheless a very active member of the cooking area, both on the internet and off. She looks in cooking sections on tv and even judges cooking competitions occasionally.

https://online-wine-shop.com/panini-happy-kathy-strahs-can-help-you-create-healthy-night-out-dinners-with-recipes-for-paninis-casseroles-much-more/

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joaomurakami · 2 years

Text

Panini Happy: Kathy Strahs Can Help You Create Healthy Night Out Dinners With Recipes for Paninis, Casseroles & Much More

Show

Create Memories along with your mate While Cooking Tasty Meals

“while we didn’t eat it, it ended up being a fun knowledge that we nevertheless chuckle about nowadays,” she informed united states.

Discovering victory by Self-Publishing an Award-Winning Cookbook

“It really is part cookbook and part manual with ideas to help young ones boost money for themselves or even assist others to âgive life a squeeze’ and come up with things happen,” she stated.

Usually Experimenting With unique preparing skill & Techniques

She is nonetheless a very active member of the cooking area, both on the internet and off. She looks in cooking sections on tv and even judges cooking competitions occasionally.

un nuovo post è stato publicato su https://online-wine-shop.com/panini-happy-kathy-strahs-can-help-you-create-healthy-night-out-dinners-with-recipes-for-paninis-casseroles-much-more/

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stylistiquements · 3 years

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Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

#sapnap smau #smau #mcyt smau #sapnap x you #sapnap x reader #sapnap x y/n #sapnap series #129 days #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #sapnap fluff

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bubblesuga · 3 years

Text

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: Yoongi is a pain in your ass, but sometimes that's okay. What's a cafe job without a little drama?

genre: college!au tags: smut, fluff, mutual masturbation, cream pie, dirty talk W/C: 4,740 a/n: i have a weak spot for blond yoongi

You seethe silently while you stare at the schedule on the pin board in the back room. You begged your boss, damn near pleaded on your knees in front of her not to schedule you with him.

Its hard enough to close with only two people but fuck, if it isn't impossible when you're with Min Yoongi.

Don't get it wrong, Yoongi has a knack for customer service and he's quite good at making coffee but for some reason-- when the two of you were completely alone-- he became unbearably annoying.

It's like the moment the open sign turns off, he forgets how to work. While you're in the back cleaning dishes, sweeping the kitchen, counting cash drawers, taking out the garbage and everything else involved with closing, Yoongi turns on his speaker and plays whatever song he's been working on recently.

Okay, sure. This job isn't the most important thing on the planet. You both are just trying to get a little extra cash while you push through college, but you'll be damned if you get paid the same while you do all the work.

"Kati!" you yell from the back, your arms crossed and your nails digging into each of your biceps. You hear footsteps behind you, causing you to turn around expecting to see Kati.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi leans in the doorway with a smirk on his face, "Awe, we're closing together again!"

"Awe we're closing toget-" you begin to mock but end up giving up and allowing your frustration to take over, "shut up, Yoongi."

"Don't seem so glum, sugar plum. I promise I'll be a good boy and listen to you." His words were too sweet to be true, they were laced with his famous sarcasm which only made you want to yell at him more.

Before you have the chance to counteract his sarcasm, he taps your back lightly before turning around and walking back out.

If there was one thing you did enjoy about him, it was the view of him when he walked away.

As the hours pass, eventually you and Yoongi are the last ones there. When Seokjin said goodbye, you silently pleaded that he would stay for just a little while longer. He gave you a slight apologetic look, glancing at Yoongi before shaking his head and walking out.

A groan leaves your lips.

It's only 9:30, you still have half an hour until the shop closes and there's way too many pastries left over.

Yoongi stands behind you, silently wiping down the coffee machines and humming along to whatever song was playing over the loud speakers.

Leaning back against the counter, you cross your arms and watch Yoongi for a moment. In a dark denim apron and slim black shirt, it feels as though the uniform was made for Yoongi. You can tell he's been working out lately, his muscles are more defined beneath the fabric of his shirt. It's killing you that despite being as annoying as he is, he's still immensely attractive and he knows it.

The snapback rests backwards on his head, blond hair poking out subtly. He turns, meeting your eyes for a moment which causes you to turn away quickly. It's quiet for a while again.

"I don't think anyone is going to come in," Yoongi breaks the silence, "I doubt Kati would mind if we closed early."

"I think she would. She said she gets a rush in the last 15 minutes so we should be prepared for that."

"We're not going to get a rush, we're a coffee shop and it's almost 10pm on a Monday."

"I'm not disobeying Kati just so you can play your shitty music and do nothing while I close."

"Shitty," he scoffs, "my music is hardly shitty, and I do help close. Who do you think cleans the front?"

"Wiping down espresso machines isn't the hardest part of closing." Maybe you're being a bit too harsh. Maybe you're trying to cover up the fact that he caught you staring at him earlier.

Yoongi sets the yellow rag down on the counter, turning to you fully, "I also sweep and mop up here. It's kinda hard to do anything else when your coworker does everything else. Ya ever think of delegating, huh?"

You feel your eye twitch. Just as you're about to respond, the bell above the door rings and you instantly wipe away your anger and throw your best customer service face on.

"Hi, good evening! What can I get for you today?"

As you help the customer, Yoongi walks to the back.

You make her coffee, heat her Panini, and speak with her for a moment about the aromatics of the freshly ground coffee beans that you had become used to. You didn't have the heart to tell her that you didn't smell it anymore, so you talked about how that was your favorite part about working in a cafe.

When she leaves, you realize it's finally time to close.

Switching off the open sign, you open the cash drawers and begin counting. Anything extra goes into the safe, and it seems as though everything was in place tonight.

In the back, you can hear Yoongi moving around and you don't question what he's doing.

Cleaning, sweeping, and mopping... Eventually you finish the front and move to the back but you stop suddenly.

Yoongi isn't playing his music.

Raising an eyebrow, you push open the door to the back and see that the kitchen is completely spotless.

Yoongi puts the last of the dirty dishes away and turns to you, "Don't worry, princess. I did it just the way you like it."

"T- thank-" you stutter but you're not able to finish your sentence before Yoongi pushes past you and walks out the door. The bell rings and you realize that he's left. The two of you managed to close in under 20 minutes.

You can't help but feel a sense of guilt wash over you. You definitely we're being a bit too harsh, and it seems to have affected Yoongi more than you thought it would.

Sighing, you push a hand through your hair and walk out the door.

Your drive home is silent. You're not one to overthink, especially when it comes to Yoongi, but you feel the need to apologize.

After your nightly routine, you plop into bed and glance at your phone. It doesn't take much to make you open your contact list.

(Y/N) sent 10:55

hey. just wanted to apologize for calling your music shitty. for the record, it's not. you're pretty good.

Your phone dings quickly.

Yoongi received 10:56

no need to be sorry, i know i'm good.

You don't respond, rolling your eyes and tossing your phone onto the night stand.

~*~*~

Closing the next day was much more simple than before. Yoongi did the back again, but this time you could hear his music playing again.

The beats are much more incredible than you'd ever admit to him in person. His voice speaks melodically to the music, drowning out your thoughts. You find yourself tapping your foot to the beat as you finish cleaning up the front.

The song finishes and there's a sudden change of pace.

Instead of a strong bass line and incredible drum work, a piano plays through.

Your interest is piqued, your legs carrying you to the back where Yoongi stands. He doesn't notice you, allowing the song to continue to play.

"This is gorgeous." you murmur, and a switch flips in Yoongi.

His hands, though soaked with water and soap, reaches up and turns off the speaker. He turns to you, panicked, "N- no one is supposed to hear that one. I didn't realize it was so loud."

"So you're telling me you just...listen to your own music?"

"Well, no," for the first time, you see a blush creep across Yoongi's face, "I play certain songs for you, and there's certain songs that are just for me."

"You play songs for me?" Any resentment you had towards the man dissipated in an instant. Instead, butterflies swarmed in your tummy. Butterflies for him.

He scratches the back of his neck, "Well, I don't play them for me. I want you to see how good I am."

"Humble," you hum, giggling slightly. Yoongi seems taken aback by the sound but doesn't get a chance to dwell as you continue to speak, "why can't I listen to this song?"

Yoongi sighs, "It's embarrassing."

"Let me listen," you begin to walk towards the speaker but Yoongi puts his hands on your shoulders to hold you back, "come on, Yoongi."

Yoongi doesn't give, but you manage to slip passed his hands and fall against his chest. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and waddling you backwards. In a last ditch effort, you attempt to reach passed him but his grip on you is surprisingly strong.

"No, no, Princess. That song is for me and me only."

The nickname has a stronger affect on you than usual.

"But..." you stick your bottom lip out in a fake pout, "I wanna hear the softer side of Min Yoongi."

Yoongi's eyes dart to your lips, licking his own. You're suddenly aware of just how close Yoongi is keeping you, his cologne filling your nose. He's cute from this angle, his nose is rounded and is tinged with red at the tip. His eyes, though dark, are brighter than usual. He smiles softly, a gentle giggle falling from his lips.

"I can't tell you how many times I've wanted you this close to me." Your heart melts at his words, and you look down to the way your chests are pressed against each other.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you question.

He smiles, "I did, you just didn't listen since you were so preoccupied with your little closing routine."

"My little closing routine makes the opener's life so much easier." you defend, trying to distract yourself from the way his hands sit at the base of your spine, playing gently with the hem of your shirt.

"I'm sure the opener is very concerned with the fact that you make sure you set the forks before the spoons and the knives right after." Yoongi whispers, his tone joking but his eyes glazing over. Even in the horrendous white lighting of the kitchen, he looks beautiful.

"Bite me, Yoongi."

Yoongi bares his teeth and scrunches his nose, "If you insist."

Without wasting a second, Yoongi's mouth latches onto your lips. You gasp into the kiss, but Yoongi's grip tightens and holds you closer.

To say your stomach exploded into butterflies would be an understatement. Your entire body lit up like a Christmas tree, heat radiating from your skin because Yoongi was everywhere. His hands were large, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt and resting on your lower back. He didn't stray any higher or lower, simply planting himself in one spot while his lips continued their attack on yours.

He smiles against your lips, taking them away only to begin his reign over your jaw line and down your neck. Then, he nips.

One.

Two.

Three.

By the fourth, his teeth are biting at your collarbones, but his hands have not moved from your back. You mewl above him, desperately clinging to his arms. Damn your neck for being so sensitive.

"Yoongi," you breathe, "touch me, Yoongi."

"I am touching you." He murmurs stubbornly against your skin.

You whine, "Your hands, Yoongi."

"Hmm," he hums, chuckling, "I like when you say my name."

Suddenly his hands drop down to your ass, kneading it through the thin fabric of your work leggings. He pulls himself back up to your face, planting his lips against yours again as you moan into his mouth.

Yoongi slips his hands between the two of you, hooking his fingers beneath the band of both your leggings and your panties.

"Are we really about to fuck in the kitchen?" You ask, your chest heaving.

Yoongi leans back, taking a second to assess the situation. "You're right, my apartment?"

"No, your car."

"Dirty girl," he grins, taking his keys out of his pocket, "I'll turn off all the lights. Go get ready for me."

You nod, grabbing his keys and walking out of the door. As you're about to reach the front door, it already swings open and Kati waltzes in completely unexpectedly.

Panicked, your eyes go wide and you halt just before leaving from behind the counter. Kati glances up from her phone, "Ah, perfect, is Yoongi still here?"

Swallowing, you nod carefully.

"Great, I need to talk to you both," she turns towards the kitchen, "Yoongi! Get your ass up here!"

Closing your eyes, you pray to god that he's composed himself a little more than you have. Sure enough, he walks from the kitchen and seems just as nonchalant as ever, "Yes, boss?"

"So, I need you two to close for the next couple weeks together. Jackson quit and Woojin can't work nights."

"...and?" Yoongi questions.

She seems slightly taken aback, "Well, I need to make sure you two won't kill each other."

Both you and Yoongi hold back laughter.

Resting his arm softly on your shoulder, Yoongi's skin is still hot against yours, "No promises, boss."

"I'm serious," she scolds, "It's only a couple weeks then I'll never schedule you two alone again."

"Yes ma'am." you put your hand up in a salute.

Working alone with Yoongi for 2 weeks? What could possibly go wrong?

Kati smiles, "Alright then. I'm gonna grab the money from the safe then I'll let you two get back to closing."

You two silently watch Kati unlock the safe beneath the register, taking out the deposits from today. Yoongi's arm hasn't left your shoulder, his fingers brushing lightly against your collarbone. When you turn over to him, his face showing no emotion but his hands doing more to you than you could ever imagine.

Kati turns back, "Okay, be here at 2 tomorrow. Thank you!"

As she walks out, Yoongi's arm falls from your neck.

You turn to him, raising an eyebrow as he wipes his brow.

"I was shitting bricks." Yoongi says, causing you to tilt your head. "Why?"

"You have hickeys all over your neck."

Your eyes widen, your hand flying to your neck, "Yoongi! Do you know how fucking bad that could have been?"

"I know, that's why I covered your neck." He explains, gesturing with just as wild eyes.

"No, no-" you shake your head, "We almost fucked in the kitchen, Yoongi. That's not okay."

"But we were gonna go to my car!" Yoongi's shoulders slump and his mouth is agape in confusion.

"Imagine if she had walked in when your tongue was down my throat."

"Well I would have asked her to join."

"Yoongi!"

"I'm kidding, you know I only have eyes for you babe." He steps closer, leaning forward to press a kiss against your lips once again. You pull away, shaking your head.

Despite the fact that it was taking everything in you not to kiss him again, not to giggle at his lighthearted jokes and just follow him to his car, you knew that you had to practice self-discipline otherwise no work would ever get done with Yoongi.

"Are you upset?" Yoongi seems hurt.

"No," you sigh, "I just don't think it's a good idea for us to do anything here."

Yoongi straightens his back, clearing his throat and adjusting his clothes, "Right. Wouldn't want anyone's coffee getting out late because we're in the back fucking."

"Right." you whisper.

Yoongi smiles softly, "Doesn't mean I won't imagine it."

"Such a gentleman," you roll your eyes, bending down to grab your bag, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~*~*~

"Can I get an Dirty Chai with oatmilk, Yoongi?"

It's the first time you had one of those late night rushes that Kati was talking about. There's a line out the door, drunk college students desperate for some sort of carbs to soak up the alcohol. Yoongi is running back and forth from the panini press to the espresso machine while you grabbed pastries and muffins for what seemed like hours.

It being busy hasn't distracted you enough from the past couple of days with Yoongi.

Yoongi has respected the boundary you set-- for the most part. Walking passed you in the small space behind the counter, his hands brush along your back, a trail of heat following his fingertips. Though it's not the most intense of touches, there's a sensuality of it that leaves you nearly a panting mess.

Your conversations have been more open, you continue to ask him about his music and he wonders aloud about your studies. He learned that you were a history major, specializing in paleontology. Ever since then, he likes to ask questions about random dinosaurs. It's certainly cute, because you can tell he's genuinely interested but he's only interested because you're the one telling him.

You still haven't been able to listen to that song that he started, and he insist its because its not good enough for the rest of the world to hear it yet. You're sure its finished, he's just not ready for you to hear what it's about. Something tells you you're getting close though.

Yoongi turns around a few moments after your request, setting a Dirty Chai on the counter. You call out the customer's name and smile as you hand it to her.

"Swap me, babe. My hands are shaking."

Oh yeah, the pet names have evolved as well.

"Shaking?" you question, but you don't have enough time to dwell as the panini press dings and you're rushing to the other side of the front.

Sure enough, as you glance back Yoongi's hands are shaking while he begins handing out pastries.

Finishing up a few more coffees, you call out customer names and the dining room begins to clear out. The line is gone and a few groups sit in the dining room, eating their food.

The second that Yoongi hands the last pastry out, he walks to the back without saying a word to you.

Glancing at the customers, you swallow and follow him.

When you enter the kitchen, Yoongi's taking deep breaths against the sink. He doesn't notice you, so you lean opposite him against the counter.

Leaning forward, you rest your hands on either side of Yoongi's face, forcing him to look you in the eye.

"That was a lot of people." Yoongi breathes.

"It was, but we kicked ass." you reassure him, but his breathing doesn't slow down.

"I think I'm having an anxiety attack," he explains, "can you hug me? P- pressure helps calm down the fight or flight response and-"

You don't allow him to finish, pulling him close to you and wrapping your arms tightly around him. His face buries itself into your neck, his breath fanning raggedly over your skin. It takes him a few moments, but his breathing slowly begins to calm, his heart rate slowing against your chest.

"If its ever getting to much for you just let me know and I'll fly solo for a little bit." you speak softly, your hand moving up to stroke the back of Yoongi's head.

"I can't do that to you," he sighs, "I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

"No, I get it," your nails begin to scratch his scalp gently, "a lot of drunk people wanting food is overwhelming, especially when their patience is non-existent. If you ever need to take a breather then I won't get mad."

"You already hate closing with me, I don't want to make it worse."

Your heart breaks.

"No, I don't hate closing with you. I think I was just trying to hide my feelings." You never expected to say this to him, but at this point you'll do anything to make him feel better.

He pulls away from your neck, a shy smile on his face. He has done a complete 180 from two nights ago.

"You have feelings for me?"

"Well, I certainly feel something." You look down, hyper aware of how close he is to you.

He grins, leaning down and pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips. Before the conversation can go any further, the bell dings open and both of you jump apart, moving to the front to help yet another customer.

The rest of the night went by much more smoothly than earlier.

Yoongi turns on his music in the front while you do the dishes in the back. He's playing his usual mix, and you find yourself humming along to the songs as they come.

It's not until you're almost finished do you hear the familiar piano notes begin to play. Peaking your head out of the kitchen, Yoongi holds the speaker in his hands and watches you carefully. Slow melodies play out underneath his gentle voice, the lyrics portraying the man's first love.

You cross your arms, soaking in the lyrics as much as you can. His face is red as more emotion plays out. It doesn't take you long to realize that what you're listening to is the personification of Yoongi's passion. A conversation is held between him and the piano, and Yoongi sets flame to it all.

When the song comes to a close, you don't move, or breathe, or speak.

"Oh my god, say something!"

You look up, meeting Yoongi's scared eyes.

"When you become famous can I sell your autograph on ebay?"

Yoongi laughs, "Yeah, you can sell it."

You don't think of a witty response. Instead, you walk towards him and hug him once again. Resting your head on his shoulder, you two sway for a moment, almost dancing with the air. The atmosphere of the empty cafe has become much more calming than it was before.

His hands dance along your spine, "You know, I've never shown anyone that song before."

"I'm glad that my insistence made me the first." you tease, inhaling Yoongi's cologne. He certainly knows how to smell good.

"Your insistence, yes," he starts, "but also your impeccable ability to strengthen my confidence."

"Awe, does Yoongi have a soft spot for me?" you try your best to hide the way his smile is making your heart flutter.

"Always have." He murmurs, his lips kissing the tip of your nose.

"We're not very good at the whole 'not-kissing-at-work' thing." you giggle, feeling his grip tighten.

"I don't want to be good at it."

He doesn't allow you to respond before his lips are on yours once again. Against them, he smirks, "Shall we go to my car tonight?"

"God yes."

With steamy windows and Yoongi's hot body on top of yours, you both completely forget about your surroundings. His back seat is incredibly comfortable, your head resting on his shirt while he nips along your stomach and down to your hips.

It didn't take long for the two of you to move, you listening to Yoongi's every silent demand as he taps your hip to signal you to lift them.

Smiling, he murmurs a soft, "Good girl." before sliding your leggings and panties off in one go.

Now fully exposed, goosebumps raise under your skin. Yoongi is slow moving, his tongue drawing circles on your pelvic bone before biting down harshly. You gasp, your back arching into him.

"How long have you been this wet?" Yoongi asks, his fingers moving forward to collect your arousal. He slips through your folds, pushing a single finger into your aching heat.

You can't formulate a response to his question, because he begins a tormentingly slow thrust into your head, curling his finger upward.

Dipping his head down, his lips wrap around your clit, and he sucks.

Your hips jerk against him, but the pleasure doesn't play out for long before his pulling away.

"I don't want you to cum yet," he chuckles when you whine, standing and unbuckling his belt, "I just needed to make sure you were ready."

"And what?" you bite playfully, "you gonna pull out a huge snake or some shit?"

"I don't think so," Yoongi responds, sliding his pants down his legs, revealing his cock, "it's alright."

It's more than alright. Your mouth waters over the sight, twitching slightly from his arousal. It's curved upward, the tip already a hot red and leaking precum. His hand wraps around the base of it, stroking it slowly. Out of habit, you slide your middle and ring fingers into your mouth, sliding them down your body and to your clit.

You eyes don't pull themselves away from the way Yoongi is skillfully touching himself, thumb running along the tip and a string of saliva falling from his mouth to the tip of his cock.

"You like watching me touch myself?" He asks, his voice significantly deeper than it was before. You nod, not looking away from his cock.

"Answer me." he takes his hand away from his cock and brings it to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He's willing to sacrifice his own pleasure to get an answer out of you, and for some reason that only turns you on even more. You speed the movements on your clit, moaning softly while you look into Yoongi's eyes.

He clicks his tongue once he notices your movements, grabbing your wrist and dragging it up to his mouth. Licking your fingers clean, he grabs your other hand and holds both of your wrists against your pelvic bone, just out of reach of your heat. He likes playing games, and he likes to win.

"Yes," you finally manage, "yes I like watching you jerk off."

He grins, a gummy grin that makes him seem much more innocent than he is. The words are dirty falling from your tongue but it only seems to heighten the fire in Yoongi's eyes.

"Good," he says, gripping his cock again and thrusting into his hand, "should I let you cum just from watching me?"

Your wrists twitch in his other hand, "P- please."

"Okay, whatever you want princess."

He lets go of your hands and your fingers fly to your clit, desperately rubbing harsh circles while he continues to stroke himself.

As his pace speeds up, he begins to let out soft, subtle moans. Your chest heaves at the sounds, hands shaking while you push yourself even closer to the edge.

"Louder, Yoongi," you beg, "please."

Yoongi bites his bottom lip briefly, a small whimper falling from his mouth while you arch your back, the heat in your abdomen growing stronger and stronger.

Yoongi's hand stops suddenly, "Where do you want me to cum?"

You grin mischievously, gesturing to your core.

Yoongi's eyes widen, crawling closer to you and leaning down, "You want me to cum in your pussy?"

You nod frantically.

"Who would have thought my pretty princess was such a dirty girl."

"Just fuck me, Yoongi." you whine, pushing your heat towards him. Yoongi does just that, slipping his cock into you. You instantly clamp around him, causing his hips to stutter deeper into you.

He gains his rhythm quickly, not holding back as he holds your hips into his back seat and pounds into you harshly.

A deep growl erupts from his chest at your small whimpers, an almost primal instinct taking over him as he leans down to kiss you. The second his lips touch yours, you gasp and feel yourself release. A loud moan of his name falls from your lips as you come undone, pushing his hips into yours with your heels.

Yoongi follows suit quickly, his release coating your walls and his head collapsing onto your chest.

"Holy fuck." He says after a minute, his mouth agape while he tries to catch his breath.

"Better than you imagined?" You feel proud of yourself for having such a huge affect on Yoongi. It's not often does he seem caught off guard.

"Way better," he replies, "the best I've ever had."

You run your nails over his scalp again, feeling him shiver against you, "Maybe if you take me out, you'll be able to have it again."

Yoongi pulls his head up, "When, where, what time?"

"I'll leave that up to you," you smile, "let's just cuddle for now."

"Don't have to tell me twice."

#min yoongi x yn #min yoongi x reader fluff #min yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x reader fluff #bts #bts x reader

301 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 3 years

Text

muddle along or: the Pokemon / TMA crossover I’ve been promising @speakerunfolding for AGES jonmartin early S4

Jon considers the knapsack left for him.

Exhaustion is already feasting on any clarity he might have obtained in the near quiet. His body stiff, unused to the casual labour of his bones. The storage room, its shelves overburdened, the air vents popping like cracked knuckles, has gained nothing in his absence except a resurgence of dust and, in a dismal corner, a pile of boxes and a suitcase. A pathetic truncated shrine to his thirty odd years of living.

They moved his possessions here, when his rent went unpaid, when his water bills and council tax and internet payment reminders piled up like demanding snowdrift on his mucky welcome mat. Mutely, he glances over the hastily sellotaped boxes that now form his packaged-up life with all the distance that six months of bad dreams have afforded him.

He wonders who packed up his kitchenware, despairing at the mismatched cutlery harvested from student halls and charity-shop finds; clucked their teeth at the bread freckling mouldy in the barren landscape of his fridge; folded his clothes neatly into the suitcase he always kept stuffed under his unmade bed, even pairing up his socks; who took the books off his shelves in the belief he might thumb through them again one day.

He wonders if it was Martin.

Basira gave him the knapsack some hours ago. When he’d found some semblance of normalcy in the dull weight of a sandwich coating his stomach, dressed in clothes that now hang like rags off a coat hanger, sat at the table in the otherwise empty staff room with the heat of a cup of tea cactus-prickling his palms.

“He asked if you’d look after them,” she’d said. The strap of the bag held securely in the jaw of her Absol. “While he’s – well, you know…” She waves an exasperated done-with-it hand that manages to express a multitude of emotions that refract and merge like the morphing shades of a bruise. “Doing whatever the hell it is he’s doing. Or he thinks he’s doing.”

Jon wishes he knew.

He sits cross-legged in front of the storage room door, a sharp-boned barricade, thrumming like a struck tuning fork with the thought that even here, he will not be safe.

Gardevoir is a heavy weight against his shoulder. She’s quieter than he remembers, solemn and sombre in her new form. She used to demand being lifted up when she was Ralts, her flat red horns digging into his chest and leaving impressions, scrabbling down to shelter half-behind his legs when strangers approached. He left for the Unknowing and she’d been Kirlia, her face set and her cries insistent and infuriated, trying to push her Pokeball into his hand to make him bring her with them. Tim hadn’t asked where she was, when they all piled into the rental car, Houndoom taking up one of the seats in the back but snarling when Basira suggested putting her in her ball.

Jon doesn’t know when she evolved. It pains him, a dull-knife strike of thought, another wave against his tide-bashed flood barriers, to have slept through such a moment in her life when every other milestone they shared together.

“Now is a good a time as any, I suppose?” he asks her. His voice traces above a whisper. His Abra has calmed now, drained down from a difficult and teary reunion, and is now breathing deep and slow, curled into the port of his crossed legs. His three-fingered hands are still clenching the fabric of Jon’s shirt.

Gardevoir nods. Then gives him a nudge and a look when it seems as though he’s stalling, when he must be bleeding out apprehension like watercolours seeping through paper.

“Can’t get anything past you now, huh,” he says. She smiles, fond and he manages a short smile back, and it is almost, almost like it was before.

The bag is old, its original function probably for a laptop of some kind. The plasticky outer skin of it has rubbed away, flaking to mesh at the edges, the piping worn down to wires. Jon folds back the front of the bag, and inside there are four Pokeballs, the basic and cheapest red-and-white models. Jon had worked a thankless summer job at a beach-side amusement arcade to save up the money to get Ralts a customised ball, and had done similar when Abra came along a few years later.

To the side of the Pokeballs, ziplocked and labelled, there is a small forest of freezer bags bulging with berries and treats and care equipment. In a plastic pocket, there are precisely written instructions pertaining to each Pokemon and their requirements, and Jon’s throat tightens unexpectedly to see Martin’s looping joined-up handwriting, to see words that seem penned by someone who doesn’t expect to be coming back.

Gardevoir makes a low noise next to him. Her arm alighting on his, a solid weight, grounding. Jon clears his throat and takes out the Pokeball nearest the top, pushing the button on the front so the size balloons to fill his palm.

Most people have one Pokemon, maybe two, unless they’re involved in competitive breeding and training. When Abra came along, he remembers his gran remarking on the upkeep, how it would be his responsibility to feed and care for and train them, and it hadn’t been the cheapest venture but Jon had born the expense gladly. It doesn’t surprise him that Martin has amassed so many in comparison to the norm.

At lunch one day years ago, the weather nipping frost-touched, they’d sat outside a cramped cafe because there’d been no seats indoors, and Martin had confessed that he was always taking them in. Thinking back, Jon knows that Martin was attempting to keep the conversation buoyant, coaxing him away from deeper, darker waters. Jon remembers being irritated, sore-eyed with sleeplessness, his spine strung with paranoia.

“My lost causes, Mum called them,” Martin had said, and his voice had tried for a levity that landed without cushioning. He’d torn off a bit from the end of his panini to feed a hopeful-looking Pidove pecking expectantly around their feet. The cause of the conversational turn, Martin’s newest acquisition, had sat grumpily mewling on the other man’s knee, wriggling and sniping as he tried to feed them some medication he’d got from the vet. Despite himself, Jon had been distracted from miring thoughts of Gertrude by watching Martin’s charade unfold, the man making a show of giving up with a theatrical sigh to scratch the Nidoran behind the ears in a show of defeat, being careful of their spikes. The Nidoran had headbutted his hand whenever his motions slowed to stopping, and Martin had used the distraction to fold a chorizo slice he’d pulled from his panini around the pill, which the Nidoran had happily snaffled from his fingers, gulping it down before returning to demand affection.

“They’ll be all healed up within the week,” Martin had continued, plastering over the continued lull with his chattering. “I’ve taken in a few Nidorans before, they tend to be pretty hardy.” He had scratched under the Nidoran’s chin as his words ebbed with the nudging of an undemanding tide.

Jon had picked at his sandwich as Martin had fold him about hiding Pidgeys and Swablus in an old shoebox under his bed, lined with the nesting material of some of his t-shirts donated to the cause. A chipped-edge bowl borrowed from the kitchen brimming with water and his own early team of Pokemon keeping them company while their wings healed in their splints before they were strong enough to leave again.

These four Pokeballs in the knapsack aren’t just random strays. They’re Martin’s Pokemon. The ones that never left him, the ones that he’s raised and doted upon and taken worriedly to the Pokecentre over every cough and sniffle and fever.

And for the meantime, they’re Jon’s.

Jon presses the release button on the first ball.

There is a chittering surprised coo as an Oddish materialises in a buzz of light and reforming matter. They reform to stand a little higher than Jon’s ankle, only to fold their leaves half over their eyes at the unkindness of the halogen strip light. They totter when they take a step, tumbling to sitting with an affronted noise before, with a determined heft, they rock themselves up to standing again. Jon’s seen Martin’s Oddish before, approaching every walk around the assistant’s office space like a tightrope. Tim had bought them a little plant pot as a novelty Christmas gift once, and they’d unironically loved it, hopping into it cosily and getting specks of soil all over Martin’s desk.

Their leaves are poked through with ragged little holes, like they’ve been nibbled away, the green tinged in places to a sickly yellow. In the bag there is a vial of luminous blue medicine, complete with dropper and application instructions. It’s a stress thing, he dimly remembers Martin had once explained to him. It’s like an eczema, of a sort, that afflicts Grass-types, but it affects Oddish’s balance when it flares up.

The Oddish looks at Jon. They don’t have a neck as such, so they lean their whole bulb-like body backwards on their stumpy legs to study Gardevoir, who gives a reassuring blink. They glance around the storage room and its uninspired treasures of boxes and the unpromisingly weak-seeming metal frame of the cot, with a fretful shake of their leaves. They’re expecting to see someone else.

“Hello,” Jon says. He clears his throat, attempting to present a friendly face, to avoid the grimace he senses forming at his discomfort, his presentation to a critical audience that is already finding him wanting. “I’m… well, I’m Jon. You’ve probably seen me before, I’m um… I’m a f-friend of Martin’s. He’s, well, he’s not here at the moment. But he asked me to look after you. While he’s – he’s away.”

Oddish blinks their beady round red eyes. Their leaves wave uncertainly with the lazy swish of palm fronds. They coo again, a longer sound, plaintive and stretched out in melancholy. They take the opportunity to look around again, a full-body swivel that has them unbalanced, but Gardevoir leans down with a careful hand to steady them upright.

Jon watches them amble off to study their surroundings. Every so often crying out in a searching noise. Gardevoir keeps an eye on them as they rootle around in one of the boxes they can reach.

The next few releases are equally unsuccessful. Skitty reforms only to barrel under the cot as a pink-and-white blur, slinking further back with his tail swishing furiously whenever Jon addresses him. One undamaged ear twitches anxiously. The next Pokemon fails to materialise at all, refusing to leave their ball.

This was a mistake. Martin should have known better, known him enough to see that he would be no good at this, his skills in offering comfort atrophied. He can barely take care of himself, these days. Never mind additional charges who are scared, who need reassurance that is rendered rusty in his throat.

He reaches out to cradle the last ball in his cupped palms. He knows who is inside. The youngest of Martin’s acquisitions, and as far as Jon was aware, full-on adverse to getting inside a Pokeball. Their favoured mode of travel was Martin, using him as a climbing frame while he attempted to work, kicking their little feet against his forehead, clinging giggly to his mop of hair to get a better view, squealing shrill and disruptive and delighted when Martin would playfully shake his head to rock them. He thinks with the uncertainty that memory offers him, that Sasha had loved them, lifted them and pretending to throw them while they chattered and babbled, snuck them berries when Martin wasn’t looking. Jon has paid ear to more than one lecture from Martin on nutrition and proper feeding times and sugar levels. They might have played with Sasha’s own Pokemon, like they had tottered after Houndour’s short and wagging tail when she was out of her ball, like they had ran after Skitty to join in games, but that memory has been scratched from recollection like initials scored out of tree bark.

They were by nature vocal, rambunctious, unthinking and unheedful of danger, a child really, and Martin had been forever apologising when Jon would find them where they weren’t meant to be, carrying them back cautiously and carefully to Martin’s fretful hands. He thinks Martin had thought that they had irritated him. It hadn’t been that. They had been so small, smaller than they should have been for their species, the runt of some litter abandoned or lost by their parent or cracked and emerging blinking from their egg over-early. They had been so curious, and the world of the archives had grown increasingly unsafe around them. Jon had worried, in his own poorly expressed way.

He presses the button, and aims at the ground. Martin’s Togepi manifests in a fizz of red light and sound crackling like champagne.

They turn around with a confused noise.

Jon gets the chance to voice an awkward, low-pitched ‘hello’ before they take one look at him and their face clenches upset, breath starting to bubble with sobs.

“Oh, oh, nonono, hey,” Jon says, scooping them up into his hands. Abra is dislodged, wakes up startled and teleports a few feet away with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. “It’s… nonono, shush, it’s alright.”

Big messy tears fall out of screwed up eyes. Hitching sobs lengthen into wails. Jon looks frantically at Gardevoir as he rocks and shushes the bawling Pokemon against his chest in a way Martin was so much better at.

Martin would know what to do, what to say. How all this could work out for the best. But Martin isn’t here.

Jon’s own eyes dampen.

“Shshshsh,” he croaks thickly. “It’s – it’s going to be alright. I’ve got you.”

He uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away the worst of the tears. He strokes the top of Togepi’s head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Jon repeats.

Many hours later, Jon wakes up, cotton-mouthed and his back vengeful for the position he’s slept in. His legs, still crossed, have degraded to numbness that he’ll pay for as soon as he wants to stand. In his lap, he sees the matryoshka doll set up that’s occurred, Togepi exhaling with little whistling breaths into Abra’s chest, Abra’s face planted against Jon’s shirt. Skitty has emerged from his defensive fort under the cot to coil into a ball of heat, curled up in the crook of Abra’s overhanging tail. Gardevoir is half-awake in that dozing but alert way she has, and she must have turned off the light in the room because it’s dark except for the emergency glow from the fire-exit sign that casts the walls and floor in an unsettling green. Jon sees the husk of an opened Pokeball, the shadow of something small and yellow crouched on Gardevoir’s shoulder, and something inside him eases, just a little bit.

Oddish is looking up at him from the floor. Jon moves the only hand he has that’s not squashed under Abra, and when he sets it down they alight with an unsteady gait and he transfers them to the higher terrain of his knee. He rubs a careful finger along their leaves until they sit, their head nodding as they struggle to stave off sleep, although they still glance around with uncertain eyes.

The room has dropped colder. Oddish shivers along with Jon.

“I know,” Jon says. “I miss him too.”

#tma #the magnus archives #fic #jonmartin #pokemon #pokemon/tma crossover #no spoilers #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #things I have been unable to stop thinking about #jon and his ralts #martin and togepi and his expanding collection of wayward charges

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