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lancearcherinrippedjeans · 2 years

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Eternity - Chapter 9

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Is has been ALMOST A YEAR. WOW. So many of you have been waiting, here it is.

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Starring - Sawyer Holden, Veronica Rodriguez, Nova Jay, Kenny Omega, Adam Page, WARHORSE, The Young Bucks and many small appearances

Word Count - 6,076

Category - Angst, violence, small comedy bits, but this is a very "dark" chapter

Chapter 9/?

Summary - Full Gear has arrived. How will this rivalry end between Sawyer and Veronica? Their lives are about to change forever.

Warnings/Comments - There's so much violence and anger and NEGATIVITY in this chapter guys. Follow @adriii-omega

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ALLELITEWRESTLING-

BREAKING NEWS : The finals to see who will be the new number one contender for Hikaru Shida’s women championship will now be decided in a Barbed Wire Death Match! The matchup of Sawyer Holden and Veronica Rodriguez will now be the MAIN EVENT of Full Gear this Sunday!

Warhorse had been lifting in a gym near his home. Music blasting through his headphones, his mind was only on this last rep. The music quieted, meaning a notification had popped up. He sighed, before bending over to pick up his phone. His eyes largened, “Oh no… no. No!” He rolled his eyes, as he already saw tweets from the other AEW wrestlers picking sides. “I got to do something. They’re gonna to fucking get hurt!” He yelled in the gym, which he thanked God was pretty much empty.

He clicked on Sawyer’s contact name and typed out a text- “I’m calling you in 30 minutes.” Warhorse saw she read it, and shut the phone off before he could see her response. He was determined to wonder what was going on through his friend’s heads, knowing that neither of them were thinking straight.

Sawyer responded to the text, before throwing her phone back down. She got back to her spot on the mat, near Lance Archer. She shouldn’t have any distractions, especially not the night before this huge match. She kept her eyes on the red spots tapped down on the punching bag. She kept going faster and even harder as Lance Archer shouted things at her, keeping the punching bag in place.

They had been training her for this match since the night after the brawl that she claims Veronica started.

“Left! Right! Stomach!” Archer watched as Sawyer was definitely hitting the targets, but holding back on her strength. He pulled the punching bag away to where she couldn’t reach.

“What the hell, Lance?” Lance put his hands on Sawyer’s shoulders, “Sawyer, you’re supposed to be my baby murderhawk. And you won’t murder shit if you don’t get your head in the game.”

Sawyer opened her mouth to protest before he interrupted, “Close your eyes. I want you to think about the match.” Sawyer huffed, closing her eyes and crossing her arms.

“Now imagine, there’s exploding barbed wire all around you. There’s kendo sticks broken everywhere, thumbtacks all over the ground. And you and Veronica are standing face to face, you’re so close to winning that championship,” Sawyer visibly felt angrier, the thought of Veronica winning consuming her, when Lance slapped Sawyer one good time across the face, “And she once again slaps the taste out your mouth.”

Sawyer opens her mouth to yell at Lance before she realizes how angry Veronica made her, stooping that low, like they weren’t even equal anymore. Sawyer opened her eyes, throwing the boxing gloves off and turning back to the punching bag.

Lance held the bag in place as Sawyer delivered punches, this time not holding back. All Sawyer could see was Veronica’s sinister smirk, wanting to beat it off her face. Sawyer’s knuckles started to throb, ignoring it continuing to attack the bag.

The thought of Veronica standing tall at the end of the match made her lose it, causing the punching bag to rip open, sand falling everywhere. Sawyer didn’t even look surprised. She didn’t know how hard Veronica was training right now, but tomorrow, nothing would matter.

Sawyer didn’t want the championship opportunity. She wanted to humiliate Veronica, teach her a lesson. Hell, Sawyer wanted to end her best friend.

*************

“To the soon to be champions of All Elite Wrestling!” Brandon Cutler raised his drink in one hand, while holding his camera in the other. “Introducing your soon to be tag team champions… The Young Bucks!” Matt and Nick did their signature pose, making Veronica roll her eyes with a chuckle.

“Ooo me next!” Kenny rested his hand on Veronica’s waist, and with his free arm, flexed his bicep through his shirt. “Fine.” Brandon huffed. “The man who not only will win tomorrow, but go on to defeat Jon Moxley… the Cleaner… Kenny Omega!” The group applauded, as he made a couple faces at the camera.

“Introduce my girl,” he pointed at Veronica, making her grin. “How could we forget,” Cutler said, putting her in the frame, “The lovely, Veronica!”

Matt whistled, “Sawyer or Shida don’t stand a chance.” He smugged, while Nick draped his arm around her shoulder.

“You damn right they don’t!” Cutler screamed from the other side. She looked around in bliss, spacing out as the group joked around a bit.

Nick nudged her, “You alright? You sort of zoned out on us.” The group turned their heads looking at her, “Yea. Everything is perfect. Just thinking how good we’re all gonna look with the gold tomorrow.” She raised her glass in the air, causing the rest to clink their root bears.

Veronica stifled a yawn, and sipped on her drink slowly. She squeezed Kenny’s hand making him turn his attention to her, “I’m glad you’re here.” He whispered. She gave him a toothy grin as her heart began to flutter, “I am too. Tomorrow is our night.” He kissed the inside of her palm before setting it in his lap, and continuing his conversation with Nick about a recent video game he started playing. She only heard bits, as the only thing on her mind was not wanting to let down the people around her.

*************

Sawyer sat her phone up on her bathroom sink, just finishing her shower. Warhorse stared at her in silence, before speaking up, “I should be there.”

“Jake-“

“No! It’s true, I felt like I could have prevented this…COME ON A DEATH MATCH?! Whose brilliant idea was that?”

“Try Kenny Omega. You think I would trust myself with that idea?” Sawyer said, finishing drying her hair. He held his hands in defense, “I’m just saying Sawyer, Veronica has won more of these matches. I just don’t want you guys to actually hurt each other out there.”

“Jake, she’s hurt me more times I could count… but when she went against the script to embarrass me on national television, that’s when I knew she was putting that mop head, a championship, and this company over our friendship... I’ve accepted that I’m not getting my best friend back. And if that’s the case, I want her to be terrified of me.”

“Sawyer you don’t mean that,” Warhorse tried to reason with her, “It’s the heat of the moment. When you win and you’re celebrating, all you’re gonna want is Veronica there with you.”

“You can fly in, right? That’ll be enough.” Sawyer tried to say sarcastically, but Jake wasn’t amused. “I mean it, Sawyer. Be a good sport about it. Even if she won’t. Things may never be the same but that doesn’t mean to make the situation worse.”

Sawyer huffed, “Alright MOM. I’ll be a good sport. I guess you got a point.”

Warhorse smiled, “I know I do. Now! Get some rest, partying is the exact opposite of what you should be doing right now.” Sawyer groaned picking up the phone, “I will…but I would like to note that you said “WHEN” I win.” She cheekily grinned, making him groan.

“Oh my god! Goodnight Sawyer! I Love you.”

“Goodnight, Jake. Love you too.” Sawyer hung up, putting her phone on her nightstand.

*************

Sawyer set her stuff in her locker room. Sighing to herself. So many interviewers, makeup artists, and stage hands came up to her in the fifteen minutes it took to find her door. She looked in the mirror, questioning herself, “Is this all worth it? For revenge? To prove I’m not below her?”

Looking in the mirror, she began to wonder who she had become. The old Sawyer never let her anger get the best of her, but now, she couldn’t even recognize who the new Sawyer was. Her negative thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock, and before she could even answer, John Silver and Alex Reynolds walked in.

“There she is! The next number one contender!” Alex said, pulling Sawyer in for a hug. Sawyer clenched her teeth, trying to look as unannoyed as possible. “Hey you two! Silver, are you ready for your match?”

Silver put on a cocky smile, “Oh, you already know. Orange will never know what hit him, he’ll be like,” he cleared his throat, putting on a raspy and lazy voice, “Oh my god I can’t believe Silver beat me, I guess I should’ve gotten my hands out of my pockets.”

Alex laughed at Silver’s impression, while Sawyer cringed. Alex and John quickly noticed Sawyer wasn’t laughing, as they awkwardly quieted down.

Alex put his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, “Are you okay? You seem…off.” Sawyer shook her head, “I’m great. Just the fact that my best friend has put me through living hell and tonight I’m finally giving her a taste of her own medicine.”

John cheered, receiving a glare from Alex. John mumbled sorry before Sawyer continued, “I mean, this could’ve all been avoided. If she just didn’t slap me on national television. Like what the hell?”

The two men looked at each other then back at Sawyer, nervous looks forming on their faces. “Yeah…about that.” Alex said, scratching the back of his head, shuffling away from Sawyer. She arched her brow, when Silver blurted out, “We were trying to help you out, but we ended up pissing her off…” John cringed, “And we’re the reason she kinda slapped you.”

Sawyer sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “So my life is being risked in a Barbed Wire DEATHMATCH, because you wanted to make her cry?”

“It was mainly John! He even called her a hoe!” Alex said, pointing at his tag partner. “Alex what the fuck!”

“JUST…get out. Please… before I kill both of you before the Buy-In even starts.” Sawyer said, grabbing her ring gear.

Alex and John shuffled out the locker room, before Alex peeped in one last time, “You’re gonna do great, Sawyer. The Dark Order is all rooting for you.”

Sawyer smiled, hearing the door shut. Her mood became lighter, as she really did realize that she might have lost a good friend, she was making more along the way.

*************

The preshow had just begun to start. The few fans took their seats around the arena and began to cheer as the countdown to Full Gear was on. Hangman had just come from collecting his new and “improved” gear for tonight when he saw Veronica walking in.

She looked stressed, her hair was tied up in a messy bun and her sweatpants sagged extra low. She honestly looked like she hadn’t had a good sleep in weeks. Seemingly to be in her own little world, not noticing any of her surroundings. “Thanks for making my gear, I bet it looks awesome!” She thanked the seamstress, before taking her items and beginning to head back. Hangman began to panic, holding his arm out while speaking before he got the chance to think. “I can’t wait to see it!” he shot.

She jumped in surprise, “Oh…I didn’t know you were here,” she eyed him suspiciously, “Thanks though… and good luck tonight.” She tried to leave again, until he pulled her back. “Wait, no. You’re not just gonna leave me here again. Aren’t we going to talk about-”

“I don’t think there’s anything to discuss. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we all got shit going on right now. I’m not trying to be a distraction.” She spat at him with a bit of venom. It stung him a bit, making him loosen his grip. “You aren’t a distraction to me V! I just thought I finally had a friend around here.” Her eyes softened, but she shook her head with disbelief. “Why do you keep trying with me… haven’t I given you enough reasons not to trust me Adam? I’m no good for you.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me…” He said to her, “Just like you shouldn’t let Kenny keep making decisions for you.” Veronica looked at him in confusion. He chuckled at her expression, “Sweets, you gotta see what he’s doing to you.” He laughed.

“You… you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This…” he pointed at her, “Has Kenny Omega and the Young Bucks written all over it. You’re their little group project.” He confessed. She clenched her fist to the side, and clicked her tongue. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Veronica responded. Hangman squinting at her, then at the bag in her hand, “Let me see your ring gear.”

“I don’t want to show you. You will have to wait like everyone else.” She pinned the bag behind her back, out of his reach. “Fine. You got me… is that free ice cream?” He pointed down the hall, making her whole body turn quicker than she could get the chance to react. He swiftly snatched the bag out of her hand, “Alright, let’s see…” He placed the bag nicely on a nearby table and began to unzip it.

A smile formed, as he was in awe of the diamonds. He ran his hand down it, “Wow… Sandra really outdid herself with this one.” His hand stopped as his fingers got tangled, he looked over at her before pulling the jacket out. “TASSELS?”

“Would you be quiet!” She grabbed the jacket back from him, and put it nicely back in the bag. “Mind your business.”

“You have never worn tassels before. That’s new… kinda reminds me of a certain tag team, and those shorts are way… different from your usual baggy style.”

“Am I not allowed to try new things? My baggy pants, and hot tops are still there. I just wanted to spice it up for the pay per view tonight.” She smiled, “Plus… the tassels were a recommendation from Matt. It’s a one time thing.”

He scoffed at that, “He’s always recommending tassels to everyone… they couldn’t pay me enough to wear that shit.” She let out a small laugh before leaning in, “I think you could pull it off almost as good as them.” Veronica complimented with a smirk. “No, I’m okay… I’ll stick to my things, and you stick to… whatever that is.”

“I’m going to make you eat your words, Page.” She picked up her belongings, and made her way back to the locker room. He watched her go, and when she was gone he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Page let his head fall back on the wall behind him, and ran his fingers through his hair. Even after she put him through hell… she was back where she’s been since he met her. In his head. And with his match coming up in less than half an hour… he knew he was doomed.

*************

Nova waited for her cue to go out, which was a certain signal from Ricky and Brian Cage. Taz had come out, yelling at Cody and Darby on the mic. When Brian attacked Darby from behind, with Ricky following him after, she knew she was coming up soon. She watched as Brian threw Cody right into Ricky for a spear.

Right when they grabbed Darby, she ran out, pretending to get in between the two teams. The audience popped, Taz however, was screaming at the top of his lungs for her to move.

She went up to Ricky, pretending to lecture him.

“It looks like Nova and Ricky are having a bit of a disagreement here, Excalibur.” Tony Schiavone said, watching this all go down on the monitor.

Nova “gave up”, throwing her hands in the air and turning towards Brian, who was holding up Darby by the back of the neck. They stared each other down, when Nova delivered a clean roundhouse kick, straight to the left side of Darby’s face. The crowd was shocked, but no one showed it more than Taz.

Nova rolled out the ring, yelling at Brian to push Darby out. She dragged him over to the car, which he had made his entrance on, calling Ricky and Brian over.

Brian hoisted Darby up, before powerbombing him onto the windshield. Nova and Ricky smirked, making their way up to the stage. Taz looked in disbelief, before holding his hand out to Nova.

She hesitated to put hers out, before she finally shook his hand, “Welcome to Team Taz.” He said, yelling at the camera guy to come closer.

“New Team Taz member! Nova Jay! The Supernova!”

Nova smirked, when Ricky grabbed her by the waist, kissing her passionately. They smiled at the camera before making their way backstage, Nova was finally noticed, and she was going to make sure everyone’s eyes stayed on her.

*************

Sawyer cracked her knuckles. Everything and everyone around her becoming quiet. Her earphones blasting. Her heart pounding. This was it.

“Sawyer you’re on after this break!” Dustin Rhodes called from his monitor, “Go teach that bitch a lesson.” Sawyer handed her phone to Nova, who looked like she was about to vomit. “I’ll be fine.” Sawyer assured her friend, “This needs to be done.”

“Why did it have to come to this though. Sure, you and Veronica have fought a hundred times before. But this is …” She stopped as she looked over and saw Veronica coming in. New ring gear on display, as she got rid of the baggy pants and went to new revealing shorts and a gorgeous rhinestone jacket with a picture on the back she couldn’t recognize, along white long tassels… it was hard to miss her.

The wrestlers began to find any monitor they could, not wanting to miss a second of anything. Talking amongst themselves, placing bets. In awe of the reaction that the two had gotten in such a short amount of time. The crowd was awake, and ready for a fight.

“Knock ‘em dead baby! We’ll be here when you get back!” Chuck Taylor quickly yelled, making Sawyer turn just in time to catch him. She gave him a thumbs up, before she headed through the curtain.

Taylor glanced in Veronica’s direction feeling her stare already on him. He rolled his eyes at her before going to find a seat next to Trent and Orange.

“Popcorn?” Trent offered as Chuck sat down. Orange lazily stuck some kernels in his mouth.

“I’m not sure what trick she has up her sleeve, but I don’t like it.” Chuck gestures toward Veronica who was beginning to warm up. “Her presence is enough to mess with your mind. Don’t worry about it, Sawyer is gonna WHOOP DAT ASS!” Trent said loudly, on purpose earning a scoff from behind them. The three turned around and were met with Kenny Omega and The Young Bucks. “You sure are biting off more than you can chew, Baretta.” Matt snarled. Orange looked between the two, lowering his glasses.

Trent spoke up again, “Matt, no matter how hard you try. She isn’t going to sleep. with you. You need to realize that. It’s starting to seem desperate at this point-”

“Choose your next words carefully, momma’s boy.” Kenny got in his face. “I wouldn’t let her name leave your mouth again, if I were you.” Trent bit the inside of his mouth, looking back at his friends. “Forget it man, let’s just watch the match.” Chuck patted down the chairs, getting them to cool it. From the back of his head he could feel Matt began to burn holes through the trio making him smirk to himself. He had hit a nerve with Matt Jackson, and nobody knew that but him.

The beat dropped for Sawyer's entrance music, making the crowd more electric than they already were. She couldn’t help the smile break through as she stood on the ramp. The pyro went off, and she posed for the camera. She removed her jacket, revealing a dark gothic attire. The front row of wrestlers applauded, as she walked down to the ring, she got on the apron and began to take it all in, knowing this was the only bit of peace for a long time.

Veronica tilted her head in Nova’s direction as she passed. Not caring about Ricky clutching her to his side, or the glare they both gave her. She shrugged it off and went out as if this was an actual “storyline.”

She walked out earning a mix of boos and cheers. She closed her eyes and turned her back. Revealing her jacket, to be a picture of a throwback photo of her, Sawyer, and Nova… with a drawn on angel halo hovering over her, and devil horns drawn on Sawyer. She chuckled at her antics, and spreader her arms to let the tassels gracefully fall, “Let’s fucking go!” She yelled, before making her way to the inside of the ring.

Sawyer never took her eyes off Veronica, ever since her music hit. If looks could kill, they’d both be dead. The bell rang, and Sawyer extended her hands outward for a lock up, while Veronica extended a foot— that connected with Sawyer’s nose. She blindly rolled her up, but Sawyer kicked out before three making the crowd gasp. She quickly backed up in the corner, trying to avoid the ropes from blowing up around her.

“WHAT THE HELL V?” She yelled, getting in her face. “YOU REALLY WANNA START LIKE THIS?” She pushed Veronica, making her fall on her backside. She immediately got back up, getting right back in her face. “Hit me.” She repeated, while harshly shoving Sawyer. “I know you want to.”

Sawyer raised her fist, only to be slapped by Veronica before she could react. The crowd sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation, watching Sawyer blow the hair out her face, and stare down Veronica between her brows. She slightly gulped, not breaking her stare. Sawyer began delivering rapid kicks to her sides, then quickly delivering an arm drag sending Veronica just inches away from ropes.

Her eyes widened, as she realized how close she was. Turning around she attempted to run away, but was met with a dropkick that sent her flying into the ropes, immediately feeling the electric wire going off around her. She yelped, as she rolled to the outside, not wanting Sawyer to gain an upper hand. Her skin began to burn, and the wind that was knocked out of her was still trying to come back.

Sawyer’s first thoughts being to go check on her, before remembering the reason they were in this match in the first place. She shook her head, shaking all the sympathy away. As she climbed to the top turnbuckle, she stood along with the crowd. Phones flashing, their voices rising. Screaming, as she attempted a perfect moonsault to the outside. Suddenly, feeling a devastating crack to her ribs, causing the audience to fall in silence. Veronica held the kendo stick in her hand, leaning on the barricade. She watched Sawyer lay on the floor, refs coming to check on her. She pulled Bryce by his T-Shirt, wanting to continue the damage. She swung another good three times, before rolling her back in carefully. She went for the pin, once again.

1…

2…

“This fight will continue,” Tony yells in his headsweat. Sweat beading off his forehead. “We all knew that wasn’t gonna be enough to put down the Angel Slayer.” Jim added. “It’s almost as if…that name couldn’t be any more truer tonight. The white, the diamonds, the entrance…Veronica is the angel that Sawyer is slaying tonight. We’re in for one hell of a ride.”

The two had been going back and forth for about fifteen minutes. Each seeming to have a counter for each other’s move, and when they didn’t…they just started beating the absolute shit out of each other. Blood was pouring from the hairline of Sawyer, who had been curb stomped on a pile of chairs. While Veronica's left eye was beginning to swell up, as well as a huge slash from being sliced by a piece of the broken table.

Luckily, Sawyer had done her best to avoid the electric wire throughout the whole match so far. The two crawled their way back into the middle of the ring, Veronica kicked pieces of broken table out of her way. She gestured her finger at Sawyer telling her to bring it on. She charged, only to be hit with a drop toe hold. She held her mouth, and realized she fell forward on a steel chair. Immediately, tasting blood. Veronica smirked to the hardcam , rolling out the ring and pulling up the ring skirt. She tossed a couple of kendo sticks on the ramp way, for an emergency. She faked a confused face, before innocently pulling out a light tube. She rolled in the ring, swirling it around. Sawyer saw it, and let out a groan. She raised her middle fingers up, spitting blood at her. Veronica laughed, wiping it off and whispered, “You asked for this bitch” before cracking the tube on her head, glass shattering around them. Quickly covering for the pin.

1..

2..

Sawyer barely kicked out. Making Veronica throw a tantrum, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” She screamed at Bryce, who did his best not to back down. “LEARN TO DO YOUR JOB.” Veronica pointed her finger in his chest.

“Back off of me. Focus on your match, Rodriguez.”

“Don’t tell me- AH!”

Veronica was lifted from the ground, and placed on Sawyer’s shoulder, who when no one was looking had wrapped a piece of barbed wire around her kneepad. Veronica tried to scramble, hearing the crowd go crazy as Sawyer signaled for the Go to Sleep with her hands. She successfully hit it, cringing as she stuck to Veronica’s forehead. The crowd gasped, and held their hands over their mouths. She went for the pin.

1…

2…

Aubrey was milliseconds away from her hitting the mat, they could feel it.

“WHAT? VERONICA KICKED OUT. VERONICA KICKED OUT,” Excalibur rose from his seat. “BARBED WIRE IS STICKING TO HER FOREHEAD…WHAT THE HELL?” Jim asked with concern. “What are we witnessing here folks?”

“This is awesome!” The crowd chanted, if there was a roof on Daily’s Place, it would have been blown straight off.

Sawyer laid in the corner, not knowing what else to do as she stared at her former best friend with widened eyes. Veronica waved towards the entrance ramp, signaling for someone to come out. Sawyer turned her head with confusion, tears forming as she saw Kenny Omega and the Young Bucks dragging a helpless Chuck Taylor and Orange Cassidy. She stared in horror as she saw Orange and Chuck get hit repeatedly in the torso with kendo sticks. Their cries making Sawyer furious.

“You bitch.” Sawyer huffed, as she began to drag Veronica back by her feet. Veronica kicked, connecting with her busted lip, making her curse. Veronica quickly snapped up, ducking as Sawyer attempted to grab her. Going around her and connecting her arms for a snap dragon suplex. An idea popped in her head, as she looked at her boyfriend who nodded with darkened eyes. She backed up to the ropes, breathing in, and before she breathed out she delivered a devastating snapdragon sending Sawyer through a ton of pain, as her neck was met with electricity. She hid her face, as she repeatedly hit the mat, doing everything to not let her pain be shown.

Sawyer stumbled to stand, as Veronica began to spit more venom at her, “You thought what they did was bad?” She chuckled, as Matt threw a kendo stick in her direction. She picked it up, and placed it under Sawyer’s chin making her look at her. “Watch this-” She swung, only for it to be caught under Sawyer’s arm. She gritted her teeth, not letting her react to the sting. Veronica did her best to pull it back, but she wasn’t budging.

Veronica reached her arm back to attempt to slap Sawyer again, but she grabbed onto her, slowly looking up at Veronica with angry eyes. Sawyer delivered a headbutt to Veronica’s, “That’s for bringing your boyfriend into this!” Left hook, “That’s for hurting my friends!” She kicked her in the stomach so her back hit the turnbuckles, “THAT is for putting a title over our friendship!” Sawyer balanced the kendo stick in her hand, “And THIS is for all the pain and tears you’ve put me through since July!” She went feral, whacking Veronica left and right. Veronica bawled up on the floor, trying her best to avoid her. Only to get hit harder, not being able to move. She whacked Veronica in the back once more long enough to climb to the top rope. Sawyer stood and looked around the crowd of people and wrestlers, who cheered her on as she finally did what she always wanted to do. A swanton bomb, on live pay-per view. The crowd erupted as Sawyer went in for the pin, without her Canadian Destroyer.

1...

2…

The girls laid there, staring at the ceiling. Their breathing rapid, their faces red. Veronica felt the tears start to form, she scooted away to the other side of the ring, hand over mouth holding back sobs.

“Sawyer.” Chuck shook her, “You did it baby. It’s over.” He groaned, holding his side. Her head snapped towards him, and Cassidy who were both equally hurting. “Me? I won?” She looked with disbelief. Orange gave her a thumbs up, as she pulled them in for a hug. “I’m so sorry you guys got hurt.”

“Eh.” Cassidy lazily replied, “We lived.”

Veronica watched the three, not realizing her own group was next to her. “Let’s get out of here.” Nick bent down to help her up, she wrapped an arm around his shoulder looking for Kenny who couldn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he angrily stared at Sawyer, who had the biggest grin on her face as she stared back.

“Kenny-“ Veronica reached out, his demeanor broken, as he saw her covered in blood. “Jesus Christ…”He commented, pulling her away, flinching when he heard her wince. “Careful with her hip, it’s gushing.” Matt commented.

Veronica tried to respond, telling them that she was fine until she saw Hikaru Shida walk right past her, with her AEW Women's Championship straight to the ring for Sawyer.

Jealousy filled up, and she couldn’t help looking away as they stared down at each other. The sounds of her boyfriend’s concern were muffled, as all she could do was focus on them. Sawyer couldn’t help but glare past Shida sometimes. Veronica’s tears staining her brain. Eventually, Tony Khan came out applauding as the crowd gave a standing ovation.

It was over. It was finally over.

—-------

Sawyer tried her best to get rid of the smile on her face, but she just couldn’t. She was on Cloud 9. Of course, something felt off. She knew what it was, Veronica. But she knew, she couldn’t let this affect her celebration. She turned up the music playing from her speaker, hoping that even Rihanna could distract her from this feeling.

Just as she put on the finishing touches of her outfit, there was a knock on the locker room door. “Come in!” Wardlow walked in, bouquet of flowers in hand, “There’s the next women’s champ! God, you’re amazing.” Sawyer gasped, “Michael! You’re so sweet.” She took the flowers, giving him a kiss.

“So, you really gave Veronica hell out there. How about you and I go to dinner? You’re already dressed, and of course, I have another gift for you back at the hotel.” He smirked, grabbing Sawyer by the waist from behind, hands sliding up and down her body.

“That sounds lovely Michael, but some of my friends set up a party for me at my favorite bar downtown. You wanna come with?” She asked innocently, thinking nothing of it. Wardlow’s energy shifted, he suddenly just seemed furious.

“You’re kidding. You’d rather spend this win with vodka and screaming than wine and classical music?” He asked, acting like there was no discussion. “Uh, yeah. It is my celebration.” Sawyer grabbed her purse, heading for the door.

“And let me guess, Chuck set this celebration up.”

Sawyer stopped in her tracks, her mind was telling her a million things, but only one was the right thing to do. “Well, you caught me. Chuck did set this up. And Isiah. Along with Nova and Ricky. And how could I forget ‘your’ buddy, Max? My friends set this up, Michael. They knew this would make me happy and they were right, I’m going!”

“I knew you were still talking to that weirdo! I knew I couldn’t trust you. If you walk out that door, we’re finished.” He threatened. Sawyer only stared back, frowning, tears forming in her eyes.

“After everything I went through tonight,” Sawyer choked on her words, before cutting the act, “You think I’m scared of a white man breaking up with me? I’ve seen some stupid shit, but this has gotta be the stupidest shit ever. We’re done, the third shot is dedicated to you!”

Sawyer cackled, walking out of the locker room, knowing that Wardlow no longer affected her.

On the other side of Daily’s Place, the Elite got to the back. Veronica doing her best to not crumble in front of the roster. She felt a hand leave her lower back, causing her to stop them in their tracks. “Kenny, what are you doing?” Matt asked, not sure why he stopped walking.

“You guys go on without me… I have to catch up with Don.” He looked between them, giving a disappointed look toward Veronica, “Just let me know what the doctor says.”

Veronica’s face grew with confusion, “You’re not coming with me?” Matt held his grip on her wrist, as she tried to walk away from them. “You’re hurt.” He reminded her, “I’ll make sure she gets back.”

“Thanks man.” Kenny spoke, “I got to go fix this. I’m not letting her screw up ruin my future plans.”

Nick’s eyes widened, as a silence fell between the group. Veronica felt her blood begin to boil, as his words finally hit her. “I can’t believe you. I know I didn’t win, but I tried my best and-“

“Save it. I don’t want to hear any more excuses tonight.” He rolled his eyes, before pulling out his phone typing rapidly. Nick and Matt looked between each other, not sure what to do. Veronica pushed through, wincing at every step she took. “You know what? This loss isn’t on ME. It’s on YOU, and you know that. You told the whole world that I was this Elite superstar, and you never once considered my feelings.” Her voice trembled, “Sawyer and Nova want nothing to do with me, because of you, and now I’m finally understanding why.”

She shoved Nick and Matt’s hands off of her as she walked off in her own direction.

As Kenny watched Veronica walk away, he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air, “I swear to God, I don’t know what her deal is.” He marched off, mumbling to the Bucks about not following him. “She has to be kidding, none of this is my fault. I got her here at the top. In this company, I gave her everything. It’s all-” His own thoughts were interrupted, almost making him stop in his tracks.

“It’s all her.”

Sawyer and Nova stared back, trying their best to hide their grins. “Looks like someone will be sleeping on the couch tonight.” Nova joked. Kenny shook his head, embarrassment beginning to wash over him.

“You couldn’t even help your own girlfriend, when she needed it most.” Sawyer spoke up, “What makes you think YOU could defeat me?”

He opened his mouth to argue, being cut off by a car honking grabbing their attention, Nova rushed over to the side door leaving Sawyer.

“One day, Veronica will realize that you were nothing more than a weight holding her down. It really sucks that you were the reason we had to nearly kill each other tonight, but if you think that I won’t stop trying to get my friend back… you’ve got another thing coming.” She pulled her glasses down on her head, letting herself finally relax.

“Goodbye, and Goodnight Omega.”

◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥

Feels nice to be back, chapter 10 is coming soon.

#kenny omega x oc #kenny omega x reader #wardlow x oc #wardlow x reader #wardlow aew #wardlow #adam page x reader #adam page x ofc #ricky starks x oc #ricky starks x reader #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #aew dynamite #aew #chuck taylor x oc #all elite wrestling #matt jackson #nick jackson

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waywardnerd67 · 2 years

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Replay Life Chap 13 - ScoobyNatural

Title: Replay Life - S13E16 Scoobynatural Summary: Jensen invites Jared and Misha’s families to his house to surprise (Y/N) for her birthday. They do an outdoor screening of one of the best episodes of Supernatural ever. Main Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Other Characters: Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins, Padalecki Family, Collins Family Pairing: None Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 3892 A/N:

Check Out: Replay Life Masterlist

Three weeks had gone by since Jensen had sat across from Gen Padalecki asking her to help him ask (Y/N) out. Twenty-one days filled with conventions and meetings keeping him from being in Austin. (Y/N) was equally busy as she began to take on clients for freelance editing and ghostwriting. On the rare occasion Jensen was home, she would be working until the early morning hours on a deadline. The only silver lining was seeing the woman he loved most genuinely happy.

Jensen was leaning against the doorframe of (Y/N)’s office watching her in her element. Hair up in a messy bun with a red pen sticking out of it. Large wireless headphones covered her ears knowing her favorite writing playlist was blaring into them. One of his ‘borrowed’ Dean flannels draped over her shoulders and a pair of yoga pants covering her legs like a second skin. Her glasses were hanging off the edge of her nose as her eyes scrolled across her screen. Her delicate fingers flowing over her keyboard as waves of words appeared on the screen.

Even half crazed, sleep deprived, caffeine wired, (Y/N) was still the most beautiful woman in the world. Jensen waited until her fingers stopped dancing on the keys and she leaned back in her chair to speak.

“How’s it going, pretty girl?”

She spun her chair around, letting out a long yawn, “Almost finished… a couple thousand words more and then I’ll officially be on my birthday hiatus.”

“That’s amazing. Is there anything I can do for you or get you?” Her smile made his knees wobble.

“Could you sit here with me and make sure I don’t pass out from exhaustion?”

Jensen nodded, taking his spot on the floor beside her desk. She turned off her headphones and music began to fill the room. He chuckled before singing along to her favorite Zeppelin song. He watched her shoulders relax and her eyes focused on the screen once more. For the next hour or so, Jensen sat there watching her work and singing along to her playlist. When she finally turned off her computer, he stood and scooped her up into his arms.

Her eyes were already half closed as he carried her upstairs to her room. He had made it to the top landing when she mumbled wanting to sleep next to him. He continued to his room where she was fast asleep when he laid her on the bed. Jensen slid beneath the cover behind her and slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close to him.

“(Y/N)?” He asked softly, “Pretty girl?”

Her breathing was steady and calm as exhaustion had its hold on her. He moved a few strands of her from her face before pressing his lips against her shoulder. Feeling her sigh contently, his heart began to thump wildly in his chest as a whispered confession began to flow from his lips.

“I love you. I know you know that, but I mean it differently. I’m in love with you and have been for a long time. When I think of my life after fame, after movies and tv all I can think about is you. Coming home to you, spending our golden years together, making love to you whenever possible.”

Jensen felt her move slightly and shut his mouth tightly. After several agonizing minutes, he felt her breathing settle back into a steady rhythm again.

“I’m scared shitless to cross this line with you. I’m scared I’m not good enough for you. I’m scared you will get fed up with my crazy life and I’ll lose you forever. I’ll lose the woman I love and my best friend. It’s getting harder being around you and not acting on my feelings. I want to kiss you silly. I want to yell out from the rooftops that you're mine and I’m yours. I want to wine and dine you or chill with you on the couch.”

He nuzzled his nose into her hair as a wayward tear fell down his cheek, “I want to be your entire world because you’re mine. You’re the light in the darkness. You’re everything that is good when life is a shitshow. I love you so much my heart hurts. And I’m too much of a coward to tell you this when you're awake.”

He froze when (Y/N) turned towards him. His heart was hammering against his chest, fearing she had finally heard every single word of his love confession. However, what happened next was way worse than her hearing his confession.

(Y/N)’s leg slipped between his and her thigh rested firmly against his semi-hard length. Jensen sucked in a breath as her arm slipped around his waist and her face nuzzled into his chest. A soft moan breathed through her lips as her hips pushed forward against him. He grunted uncomfortably as he tried to reel back the desire running rampant in his body.

Looking down at her peaceful face and relaxed body cradled against his, Jensen managed to wrap his arms around her and adjust to a more comfortable position. When he finally fell asleep his dreams were filled with him and (Y/N) in many different compromising positions.

After that night, (Y/N) never mentioned hearing his confession. She had only commented on it being the best night of sleep she had ever gotten. The next few days were filled with (Y/N) hanging out with her group of girlfriends for her birthday which he was thankful for as he planned a surprise birthday party for her. They had planned on watching the next episode in their rewatch which was one of the best episodes in his opinion of Supernatural. It was also one of the only episodes that Jared and Misha’s kids could watch. Jensen reached out to them both about bringing their families to his house that Saturday for a Scoobynatural watch party for (Y/N)’s birthday.

Jensen was running around making sure everything was set up in the backyard for the watch party. He had his manager reach out to (Y/N)’s friends about coming over and Kit had volunteered to keep her busy before the big reveal. He had warned Jared and Misha about them before they arrived. He was pleasantly surprised when they arrived they had all kept their cool and mingled among their families. He had decided to trust Kit with his number and she texted him when they were pulling into the driveway.

“She’s here! Everyone hide!” He called out.

Watching as (Y/N) led Kit out through their back door hearing her talk about their house, “Jensen takes a lot of pride in keeping up with the yard work whenever he’s home. Personally, I just love watching him…”

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled.

Jensen cursed all of them wanting to hear what (Y/N) was about to say. However, seeing the shock registering on her face as she looked at everyone around her. The Padaleckis’, The Collins’ and her best friends surrounded her with love and birthday wishes. Jensen could see her wiping tears from her eyes in between hugging everyone. A soft nudge came from his right side as he saw Gen standing beside him.

“You did good. Now man up and ask her tonight once everyone is gone.”

She didn’t stay around for a response as she walked over to (Y/N) with her arms wide open. He knew Gen was right and this was the perfect opportunity for him to ask her. Something deep down was keeping him anchored in his spot as her best friend and nothing more. He shook his head just in time to see (Y/N) rushing over to him and jumping into his arms.

“Jay, this is amazing! I… I don’t know how to thank you for all of this.”

“No need to thank me.” He hugged her tightly whispering, “Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

(Y/N) leaned back slightly before pressing his lips to his cheek, “Thank you, handsome.”

Jensen and Jared manned the grill while Gen and Kit were making drinks for everyone. Misha, (Y/N) and a few of the other girls were running around with the kids. Jensen took a moment to take in everything around him. (Y/N) was carrying Odette as West and Tom ran circles around her. Her laughter filled the air and cut through a layer of the tether keeping him from crossing the invisible line between them.

“When are you going to lock that down?” Jared asked, bringing Jensen back to reality.

“It’s complicated.”

Jared chuckled, “To quote Dean Winchester, ‘Game of Thrones is complicated. Shower sex that's complicated. This ain't complicated. You're problem ain't asking her, it's you.’ So, what’s stopping you? Really?”

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh at him quoting his character, but it quickly faded knowing Jared was right. Acknowledging that he was keeping himself back from having happiness pissed him off.

“I don’t know. I want everything to be perfect for her because she has had some shitty, god awful times in her life. I want to be with her so badly it hurts.”

“Okay. Again, what’s stopping you?”

Jensen bit his lip flipping the burgers as Misha joined their conversation, “You guys look like you’re about to punch one another. What’s going on?”

“I asked Ackles when he was going to finally have the balls to lock down a date with (Y/N).”

Jensen was going to glare at him, but Misha beat him to it, “That’s a big risk for him to take. Not that I’m not for it because I am.”

Misha looked over at him, his narrowed eyes softening, “It’s hard risking a friendship that has been in your life since forever. The ‘what ifs’ filling your mind with doubt and convincing you that it’s better for everyone that you keep going as you’ve always done.”

He was stunned to hear his knotted feelings laid out so perfectly by his friend, “How did you…”

“Been there. Done that.” Misha squeezed his shoulder, “My honest and humble opinion if you want it.”

Jensen nodded.

“I believe the risk will be worth it in the end. (Y/N) loves you and more than just her best friend. You two are meant to be and I cannot wait to be witness to your love blossoming for one another.”

He turned to Misha and pulled him into a hug, “Thanks Mish.”

“Anytime.” He held him tightly for a moment, “Now hurry up with the food or the kids will start to riot.”

The three of them laughed and soon everyone was grabbing their plates to head towards the inflatable projector screen. Jensen escorted (Y/N) to her special birthday throne where her friends were all sitting. Once everyone was settled, he started the episode.

Sam is reading a book in the Bunker. Dean walks into the room behind him.

“Hey, what are you doin'?”

Sam glances up, “Uh, research.”

“Okay.”

Sam continues looking through the book, “You know, it's the strangest thing. I-I can't find anything on a-a cursed object that actually physically attacks people.”

“Dude, it's over. All right? Be like Elsa -- Let it go.” Dean smirks.

Sam turns around in his chair and looks at Dean incredulously, “Be like Elsa?”

Dean nodded, “Ah? Right? Come here. I need to show you something. It's important. Come on.”

Sam and Dean enter a dark room, “Behold,” Dean turns on the light “... the Dean-cave. Or Fortress of Dean-a-tude. Just -- still trying to figure that one out.”

Dean walks Sam through the room, pointing out all the 'amenities'.

“We got Foosball. We've got jukebox -- all vinyl, obviously. Double La-Z-Boy recliners. And, of course, the bar. Still a work-in-progress. It's gonna have a kegger because...Well, it's gonna. And finally... the pièce de résistance.”

Dean points a remote at the television from the pawn shop.

Sam holds up his hand, “Okay, hold on, hold on. When did you have time to do all this?”

“When it's important, you make time, Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “Wh–”

“Let's give this bad boy a test run, huh?” Dean cuts off Sam.

♪ Dun, dun ♪

♪ Dun... ♪

Dean turns the television on. Purple sparks emanate from it and there is a purple swirling pattern on the screen.

♪ Dun, Na! ♪

“What the hell?” Sam asked, staring at the TV.

A purple beam shoots out of the screen, engulfing them. The boys disappear, and the purple beam drops them into the woods at night, in an alternate, cartoon universe.

Jensen was standing in the back behind everyone chuckling. All the kids were on a large blanket in front with their eyes locked onto the screen. Misha sat with his daughter, Maison, on one of the large Lovesacs. Jared and Gen were curled up on another Lovesac giggling like teenagers. As Jensen scanned over (Y/N)’s friends he noticed she was not sitting in her favorite chair.

Suddenly, he felt someone from behind him slip their arms around him. Seeing (Y/N)’s hands clasp in front of him, he let out a sigh of relief. Her head rested in between his shoulder blades.

“Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?” He whispered.

(Y/N) lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. He instinctively pulled her into his side and hugged her.

“I’m missing one and I can’t enjoy the episode without him.”

She looked up at him smiling and without a second thought he kissed her. Her body relaxed against his and another tether snapped free allowing him a single positive thought. Things between them could actually work out.

“Lead the way, birthday girl.” He whispered, watching her eyes flutter open.

Sam looked around, “Dean? What just…”

They look at each other simultaneously saying, “Aah! You're a cartoon! Aah! I'm a cartoon! Aah! I’m a cartoon! Aah! You’re a cartoon!”

“Uh, is -- is this...Okay, okay, okay. This is a dream. It's gotta be a –” Sam rambles.

Dean slaps Sam across the face, leaving a huge handprint on his face.

“Dude!” Sam shakes his head and his face goes back to normal.

“It's not a dream. Holy crap.”

Sam tried to make sense of what happened, “This is, uh... You saw that light. Did we just get sucked into the TV?”

“Or maybe this is an angel thing. Or -- or the Trickster.” Dean suggests.

Sam shakes his head, “No, he's dead.”

“Or is he?”

“Dean, what the hell?”

“I don't know, Sam. I…” Dean looks off, past Sam, “Whoa.”

The Impala is parked in a clearing nearby.

Sam looks curiously at the car, “Uh...How did the car get here?”

“I had the keys in my pocket? Or maybe -- Wait, seriously? That's what's bumping you about this? Okay, look, are we animated? Yes. Is it weird? Yes.”

“It's beyond weird.”

Dean continues, “Well, and "beyond weird" is kind of our thing. So whatever happened, we'll figure it out. This is a case, so let's work it.”

Sam asks, “How?”

Dean looks at his Baby, “Same as always. We drive.”

The Impala drives down the road as rock music plays.

(Y/N) was snuggled into Jensen side as everyone was chuckling at the episode. He felt her shiver and grabbed her blanket from the back of the chair. He covered her as she wrapped her around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

“Uh, uh, I'm Dean. My brother, Sam. Mind if we join you?”

The gang looks at Dean like he's crazy then Fred smiles, “Of course not! There's plenty of room. I'm Fred. This is Velma, Shaggy, Scooby, and –”

Dean slides into the booth, “Daphne.”

“Hmm?”

Dean grabs Daphne's hand and kisses it, “Enchanté.”

“Hmm.” She looks unphased by his gesture.

“Girlfriend missed a prime opportunity and all because of Fred.” (Y/N) scoffed.

“Not a Fred fan?” Jensen teased.

She sat up shaking her head, “Dean Winchester or Fred? I’m going with Dean all day, everyday and twice on Sundays. He’s my man.”

Jensen heard Jared cough and glanced over to see him mouthing, “I told you so.”

He rolled his eyes, continuing to watch the episode.

Sam is kneeling beside the bed, “Dean, this isn't a dummy. This is blood.”

He holds his hand up to show that it's covered in blood. He pulls the blanket off of Cousin Simple and there are several pools of blood around his body.

“He's -- he's dead. Like -- like, really, actually dead.”

Velma calls out, “Jinkies!”

“Jeepers!” Daphne follows with.

“Zoinks!” Shaggy shakily.

Scooby looks down at the body, “Ruh-roh!”

“Son of a-”

All the adults began to cough loudly to cover up the last word of Dean’s line. (Y/N)’s laughter filled the air as all the kids groaned.

When the next dead body was revealed, Shep climbed up to snuggle in between him and (Y/N). She wrapped her arms around him, never taking her eyes off the screen and Jensen from that point never took his eyes off her. He never thought about kids but suddenly the only image in his mind was (Y/N) barefoot and pregnant. He wanted that. Desperately.

“Great working with you, Velma.” Sam said, holding his hand out to her.

“You, too, Sam.” Velma grabs Sam and dips him into a kiss, “Mmm. Mwah. Those shoulders. Jinkies!

She raises her arms triumphantly as she leaves the room with the rest of the Scooby gang.

Dean huffs, “Shoulda known Velma was good to go. Gah! It's always the quiet ones.”

(Y/N) leaned in towards him careful not to wake Shep who fell asleep, “Yeah handsome, it’s the quiet one you have to go for.”

She chuckled, giving him a wink then turning her eyes back towards the screen. For a moment, panic struck Jensen that maybe he had been mistaken. Maybe, (Y/N) had heard everything he told her while she was sleeping. The thought made his stomach churn.

Quickly, he stood up as (Y/N) carried Shep inside, “For anyone who may have had too much wine, whiskey or beer, please feel free to crash here. We have plenty of room. Kiddos can sleep down in the rec room and there are guest’s rooms throughout the house.”

“Ackles, do you mind if the kids stay here…” Jared wiggled his eyebrows towards his wife who was carrying Odette inside with a sleepy Tom following her.

Jensen nodded, “Sure. Enjoy a kid free night.”

Jared hugged him, “Thank you. You’re the best.”

He could hear (Y/N) laughing as Jared rushed Gen to say goodnight to their kids. Jensen helped Misha with West and Maison putting them on the makeshift, couch cushion bed with the Padalecki kids.

“I’ll sleep down here with all of them so you don’t have to worry about it.” Misha patted his shoulder before heading towards the couch that still had cushions on it.

When Jensen walked upstairs, he found (Y/N)’s friends all in front of the TV with another bottle of wine passing between them.

He chuckled to himself before calling out to them, “Goodnight ladies.”

“Goodnight Jensen.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Feel free to come snuggle any time tonight.”

They all fell into a fit of giggles as he walked upstairs to his room chuckling to himself. Opening his door, he was surprised to find (Y/N) standing next to the bed staring down at her feet. His mind immediately went to something being wrong and closed the distance between them with two long strides.

“Is everything okay?” He lifted her chin so he could see her eyes.

Jensen sucked in a breath seeing her normally bright eyes darkened. The next thing he knew, her lips were smashed against his and her hands were up in his hair. His body reacted without paying any attention to his mind. His hands slipped beneath her legs and lifted them to wrap around his waist. Turning them around, Jensen sat on the bed while (Y/N) pushed his plaid shirt down his arms. Tossing it to the side his hands cupped either side of her face and his mind finally pierced through the desire flooding it.

“Pretty girl…” She kissed him again before he pulled away, “We can’t…”

Her body froze and guilt chilled his body to his bones. Her wide eyes stared into his eyes and she scrambled off his lap.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I… I…” Tears began streaming down her face, “I must have dreamed it.”

He pulled her to stand between his legs, “Dream what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I should go downstairs.”

She tried to step away from him, but Jensen pulled her back again this time wrapping his arms around her.

“Tell me, please.”

(Y/N)’s eyes were shining with fresh tears as her lip trembled. His heart began to crack knowing he was the reason she was crying.

“The other night, I thought I heard you… it doesn't matter Jensen. You obviously don’t want this and I must have been having a sleep deprivation dream.”

This time, he froze. She had heard him and now was his chance.

“Please… just tell me what you heard.” He begged, needing to know once and for all.

(Y/N) sighed averting her eyes to anywhere but on him, “I thought I heard you say that you loved me. That you were in love with me. That you wanted… wanted to…”

He gently pulled her chin towards him so their eyes could meet, “Make love to you.”

Her eyes widened, “S-So, I did hear you say that?”

“Yes.” He pulled her onto his lap again, wrapping his arms tightly around her, “I want nothing more than to make love to you. Right now, it’s taking every bit of my willpower to not give in to my body.”

The corner of her lips curled slightly as she chewed on her bottom lip, “Then what’s stopping you?”

Jensen pressed his head against hers gritting his teeth, “You’re too important to me to not do everything right. You deserve nothing less than perfect. Tonight is damn close to that, I don’t want our house to be filled with people the first time we make love. I don’t want to worry about one of the kids or your friends walking in.”

“Yeah, that could be awkward.” She chuckled, “But Jensen, if we keep waiting for the perfect moment then we might miss the chance of seeing how perfect we could be together. Between your schedule and my deadline schedule, we have to seize the moment we have. Risk the chance of traumatizing the kids or making my friends insanely jealous.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, “So what are you saying, pretty girl?”

She stood from his lap, taking his hands and sliding them beneath her shirt. Her soft skin beneath his fingertips wiped out what little willpower he had remaining.

“I’m saying, I’m in love with you too. I’m saying, I want this. I want us. I’m asking you to please take away all the invisible scars left behind by every douchebag and asshole that broke my heart. I want to feel again and only you can make that possible.”

Without another word, Jensen jumped head first into oblivion of love and desire.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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icingsweet · 1 year

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wc: works with percy!

CAT, 28, GMT; SHE/THEY. | if you’re hearing ANTAGONIST by NOVA TWINS playing, you have to know ERIN WILLIAMS (THEY/HE; ENBY) is near by! the 25 year old BARTENDER has been in denver for, like, 5 YEARS. they’re known to be quite CYNICAL, but being RELENTLESS seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble QUINTESSA SWINDELL. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those WEARING SUNGLASSES INSIDE, HEADPHONES ON, PATCHES AND PINS, and UNANSWERED TEXTS vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around LAKERIDGE DISTRICT long enough!

BASICS:

NAME: erin williams.

NIKNAMES: will accept rin.

AGE: twenty-five.

BIRTHDAY: february 10th.

ETHNICITY: african-american and white.

GENDER AND PRONOUNS: non-binary, they/he.

SEXUALITY: pansexual.

OCCUPATION: bartender.

CONNECTIONS:

banks - roomie, before and after incarceration.

unnamed third roomie - wanted connection!

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

unnamed third roomie

friend (erin doesn't make friends easily!)

ex-friends with benefits

enemies

PHYSICAL:

HAIR COLOUR: brown.

EYE COLOUR: brown.

HEIGHT: 5 foot 3 inches.

PIERCINGS: septum piercing.

TATTOOS: little pieces around their body until they can afford a big piece.

SCARS: hands, noticeable the palm side on their right hand.

BIOGRAPHY:

tw: fighting / glass injuries.

It’s always been him looking out for himself. Life for Erin growing up was group homes and residential child care before they aged out of the system, having no connections and no supportive networks they learned from an early age that they had to be self-sufficient because there wasn’t any other choice.

Before ending up in Colorado, but by no means settling, they moved around from grubby motel to grubby motel trying to survive on the scraps their minimum wage jobs gave them. Even though Denver offers another dead-end job they now have a small apartment with two roommates - that’s the first time they’ve had an ounce of support so it was worth sticking around.

While Banks was always a live wire there was more to him than that. Once you got passed the tough exterior he was goofy and protective — it was the first time somebody was protective over Erin it was the latter in combination with his temper which was dangerous. Late one night the two were headed home from a club when somebody couldn’t hold their mouth, and like a natural reflex Erin always gave as good as they got, until the other swung an empty bottle they tried to stop with their hand. All they remember is blood and the look on Banks' face.

While Erin has a million conflicting thoughts about him being arrested, it boils down to how guilty they feel for not de-escalating the situation and as a result Erin tries to keep their anger in check. Even years later they still have trouble with their hand as a muscle the glass cut never healed back to normal, the scar tissue makes it difficult to stretch their hand and it’s noticeably weaker than the other. While their hands are generally littered with scars from previous jobs, mostly burn marks from being a barista, the ones on their palms are the most notable.

OTHER:

Making friends is hard for them. If it’s not them being mentally and physically tired out after a long day or a resting bitch face, it’s their distrust for people and people’s intentions. They’ve met significantly more bad people than good. And if they’re good, what are they getting out of it and what do they want? It’s unrealistic to Erin.

While Erin is known for being grumpy and irritated, it stems from their depression. They struggle to find enjoyment between work and bills, they constantly wonder why they’re unwanted, they feel guilty, and they have no interest in doing things outside of work as their hand injury stopped them from playing the one thing they enjoyed - their guitar.

Erin would like to work with charities that offer assistance to those transitioning out of foster care, but that alongside singing is another pipe dream, as they envision their life struggling to pay rent forever more.

#chq;intro

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hyperfashionist · 2 years

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Portable Pockets, Part 4 of 4

Finally, let’s look at my minimal first aid kit.

On the top left is a set of 4 x 75mg aspirin, with the dosage and expiry date written on in Sharpie. Normally I’d carry the 300mg ones, but I couldn’t get them and this was all we had. These are for people who seem to be having a heart attack to chew on. First aiders are not normally authorized to give out medicines, but I carry these for people I know that carry aspirin for themselves. I am not sure what the current position is on first aiders giving aspirin to casualties, so don’t carry these just because I do. In fact, just get trained yourself, and then you’ll know.

Next, a Vent Aid. Last time I got trained, mouth to mouth was minimized to the couple of breaths between chest compressions, because chest compressions will squadge some air into the lungs anyway, and if a person isn’t breathing they’ll soon need chest compressions anyway. However, I need to do my refresher soon. So instead of paying attention to me, go get qualified.

Next, a pair of fashion tapes in a plastic bag. This is in case the straps of my mask break: I can temporarily stick it to my face until I get back to my bag where I keep my spare mask. A portable pocket doesn’t have room for a mask, and it also isn’t meant to hold the kitchen sink, but only just enough till I can get back to my desk.

Next, a pair of nitrile gloves squadged into a plastic pouch.

And that’s about it for the portable pocket system! The phone goes into the front pocket upside down, with the wired headphone jack plugged in. I can then take it out and use it to tap in and out of public transit or pay for stuff, and leave it in to listen to music or pink noise as I work or travel.

I have several other pouches, most of them woven single-pocket pouches in enough colours and patterns to match most outfits. Because the set of items stays the same, there’s less risk of forgetting an item when transferring between pouches.

A single pocket pouch can be awkward to pull the phone in and out of around the other items. It helps to stick in a piece of cardboard as a divider. I’ve also used the cardboard envelope that the Flare ear inserts came in.

For air travel, when more space is needed for passports and documents, I have one of those nylon sling pouches that looks like a stomach and is supposed to be big enough for an iPad. But I haven’t tested it yet.

As an aside, I am overjoyed with this CNC Costume National pouch, which I paid £18 for. About once a year I find something INCREDIBLE at TK Maxx at a dirt cheap price, that I use or wear all the time. This is that item for 2022. I rejoice in it.

[I would link to the previous post and first post, but it turns out that you can’t paste text after copying it.]

#EDC #it has pockets #fashion

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fishnets-fingers · 2 years

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Make some space, it's my time to shiiiine [surpirseeeee]

[“Consent,” her mother laughs. “Layla, your grandparents didn’t ask me for my consent..."] So? You could've ended it now? I understand we always think we'll never become like our parents, but we ultimately do. But still, you could put an end to it mama.

[She had sat down to start blocking off colours for her biggest commission yet, when her phone buzzed rhythmically with her mother’s picture taking up the screen] naurrrr, not her mum being a creative flow block.

[“Layla, watch your mouth. I’ll have you back home on the next flight. I blame Vasanth and Abi, they always let you do and say whatever and never control you.”] no she did not just say that

[“Do you remember that night? When we were living alone? When you found me in the kitchen with a kn-“ her mother stops, and Layla hears her shuffling and a door closing. “Do you remember how much you cried?”] ...oh no..oh no no no

[“No,” she says softly, slumping onto the swing. Feeling herself being pulled into a familiar feeling. ] my baby i've honestly never this seething rage for anyone but her mum.

[“I sacrificed so much for you. To make sure you had a better life. Do you think I wanted to do that? No. But I did to give you a ‘better life.’ Getting you married is my final duty and once that’s done I will be free. Have I ever discouraged you from your studies?”

“No.”] I know exactly where this is going and I'm not excited for it.

[“So listen to me when I tell you this. You will be getting married whenever and to whoever I say so. You will drop everything that the boy’s family does not like; that includes your studies. If they encourage your PhD pursuit, that’s great for you. If they want you to stay at home and take care of your children that is what you will do. Because your husband will be in control of you and then I will finally relax because you will have a better life.” She finishes.

“But what if I don’t want to get married.”

Her mother laughs mockingly from the other end. “Why would you not want to get married? You know better than to have a boyfrie-“

Fuck me in the ass! She thinks.

”Do you?” Her mother growls.

“No.” She answers quickly. “Of course not. Where would I even find one? It’s not like you let me go out alone back home,” she forces a chuckle, hoping the joke is enough to distract her.

“Good. You know better. I will not hesitate to poison your food if you bring shame to me.”

Layla remains quiet, eyes scanning the eggshell carpet as she draws patterns with her feet.

“I’ve gotta go. I’m feeling sleepy. It’s almost ten at night here.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”]

[Her mother laughs. “Only you’d go to temples for food!”] nah, her better lover does too *wink wink*

////

[It was one of her favourite places to come and watch the people on the street. She would then turn off her PlayStation when her eyes felt like they were going to melt and she’d find herself here.] omg I've a line vv similar to this one in my wip!! the vibes, the feels these lines give>>

[Usually the egg shaped swing would sway to and fro from the window. The swing room sat at the centre of the top floor and had a window that opened right up to the street. It was one of her favourite places to come and watch the people on the street. She would then turn off her PlayStation when her eyes felt like they were going to melt and she’d find herself here. She’d watched countless things from that spot of hers, sketchbook wide open - abandoned - on her lap as she clamps her teeth around the end of the pencil. Nandhini Aunty going on her evening walks for her blood pressure chattering away into the white wire of her headphones that would disappear into the brown crossbody purse of hers. Chandru Uncle biting into a sugary concoction and stuffing his box of sweets into the dashboard of the car before heading into the house. A couple of the neighbour kids rollerblading with hockey sticks, trying to get the small ball into their opponents nets. And sometimes, Harry tripping over air when he goes for his morning runs; it always made her giggle at his two left feet. ] I read this para like 5 times, it's just so beautiful. I absolutely adore this feeling irl too.

[But right now, the fluorescent white street light doesn’t seem to draw her attention to what’s happening on the streets. She can hear her neighbour’s dog bark but it seems distant and muted. All she could do right now was clutch the plush dolphin to her chest as she stared at the carpet. The scent of turpentine permeates through the room from her unattended art project. Any sensible person who knows their way around oil paints and knows that they should open up the window but she doesn’t seem to care. A giant boulder weighed heavily on her chest - anchoring her to her feelings.

She feels funny. Funny bad. Funny anxious. She hadn’t felt anxious for weeks now. Layla maintained a regimen: walks with Harry by the lake, low intensity workouts and her hour long yoga, oiling her hair, cooking, taking a hot shower, helping Earl with his flower arrangements, and drawing in her sketchbook. All these helped; they still do. But every time she feels like she’s finally gotten past her anxiety, an ivy wraps around the boulder, making it impossible to touch. Layla chuckles weakly as she closes her eyes and tries to picture the boulder, or her boulder. She wound up reading Payne’s book introducing Narrative Therapy in the library during her final semester and she figured it was worth a shot to try and externalise her anxiety. Was it not the smartest move to not do it with a professional? Probably but she did it anyway. She created this persona of the boulder for her anxiety. Was it the most creative one out there? Definitely not. But that is what her anxiety felt like, a massive boulder that was sitting right on her chest - sinking her. Every time she has great days and on the days where she can manage her experiences of anxiety she can’t help but think of cracks appearing on the boulder. Her time in America gave rise to a lot of these cracks. But after every setback, all she can picture are dense thorn filled ivys slithering it’s way around the boulder, making it impossible for Layla to get close. ] no one touch me. I beg, do not touch me. please, just don't.

[Layla closes her eyes and exhales loudly through her mouth. I’m not gonna sit here and worry about something that might happen in the future, she affirms herself, pushing herself off the swing.---She splashes her face with some cold water, and pats it dry with a towel. She quickly runs a brush through her hair to get rid of the knots, before bunching it up into a high ponytail. She sniffles, as she pushes her bangs in place, to look remotely put together] slay my baby *sniffles*

[“A sweater vest. My sister-in-law sent me the pattern. Been working on it for two days now.”] we love crocheting and people who crochet <3

[“Just thought you could use some relaxation before your first day of classes tomorrow, Professor Sathish,” he smiles.] ...if he doesn't do this, i don't want him.

[“So what if the rosé is?” He replies, hosting her up onto the sink counter, so he didn’t have to bend down.] you do know what you're doing to us readers, don't you?

[“But,” she continues quietly, “I buy things that are inexpensive.” And the last word is all it took from Layla for Harry to understand. She has chastised him for spending money on her in passing before but he thought it was out of politeness. He didn’t pick up on the fact that it was making her feel bad and he should have listened to her better.] nawwww

[“So? Baby, I don’t know why you continue to do this to yourself. My intent is to not make you feel like you are less than just because the things you buy cost less,” he explains. “Whenever you buy me things, I don’t think to look at the price tag. The books, scarves, that ugly snail mug,” he pinches the soft skin near her bellybutton making her smile up at him, “and even the holiday you paid for, all of it only makes my heart skip a beat because it tells me you care. So why can’t I do the same for you? I understand you need to be financially independent but is it so wrong that I want to treat my girlfriend now and then? I know you save up and make money from your paintings. I do. When I picked up the bottle all that was running in my mind was ‘will this bottle finally convince her to ditch the beer train and hop onto wine.’”] Soft music is playing in the background and we're absolutely loving it.

[Harry doesn’t press, he knows she needs to think things through before she tells him. It frustrated him initially, he was someone that needed to talk things out at the very moment but not her. He couldn’t help but take it personally when she would shut him out when she had had panic and anxiety surges but it’s easier for him now - it’s how she communicates. She needs to take some time to think things through but she always talks to him eventually. Knowing that she is willing to open up to him does alleviate the stress he undergoes during the wait. ] love that for both of them

[“Shit,” he grunts, as his shin comes in contact with the ceramic edge, and it only makes her sputter in a giggle. “Don’t have to be so mean,” he pouts, poking the crescent of her dimple.

“You don’t have to be so clumsy,” she retorts, sinking back into his chest,] lmaooo

[he cradles her head in the valley of his neck as he hums contently. His arms come to nestle her chest, pulling her into him, as much as the universe would allow him.] melts into a puddle on the floor

[“I’m anxious,” she says quietly. “Have been feeling anxious for a while now.”] same same

[“No. You are actually helping me calm down.” She kisses his neck. “Just keep holding me, yeah.”

He hums a promise, his hand comes to softly caress her cheek - fingers feathering over the apples. He can’t help but bend down to press a kiss to her temple, making her smile when the blue of his mask smears over her, and he’s quick to wipe off the remnants] I'm literally crying sweet tera by now, Maya

[“I did! She talked about her work and presented data on how rapidly the high albedo areas are shrinking and how it has already affected the ecosystem in the Arctic. She even invited me to talk to the class about my experience but I declined.”

“Why?”

“You know I can’t talk in front of an audience. Especially when I’m not prepared. Plus, what would they have benefited from a lowly intern’s experience?”] Yoooooo please tell me he isn't saying that!!

[“Exactly! It’s not like it was easy to get the internships in the first place. Don’t put yourself down like that, Harry,” she says firmly.

“Thanks,” he bends to kiss her soft lips. “I love you, you know that.”

“I do, my favourite idiot in the world.” Layla tangles her fingers in his locks and guides him back for another one. “Now tell me what albedo means.”] i love them so much :((

[“Touché,” he agrees, conversations like these made him burst at the seams, he had never had this with anyone before. Having someone ask him questions about things he was passionate about, and actively engaging with it rather than dismissing it as a possible career opportunity, was something he had come to realise had the same effect on him as foreplay. He loved that he could pick her brain, he loved it when she would pick his, and most importantly he was absolutely besotted over the fact that she was sharp as a tack.] Mayaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa stopppp!!!!

[“Oh get this, Dr. Bailey knows the head of the earth science department at UCSD. Said she’d be more than happy to send over a recommendation email.”] holy shit

[She picks up on the grape, lots of fruits - berries, pears - but there’s also a whisper of something floral, like the smoke fading out of a candle that was blown out. But there’s also the sizzle of citrus with a hint of something woody. The effervescent liquid has a velvety softness to it as she gulps it down. ] okay now that's a ...description

[Harry laughs. “I’m gonna take full credit for your taste buds maturing. Honestly your choice of alcohol is one of a fifteen year old sneaking the cheapest one they could find at a gas station.”

“Don’t be an asshole. I’m a simple girl, what can I say?” She shrugs, pouring another glass for the two of them. ] 😂😂😂

[But one mystery he experiences is the way every sinew, every cell in his body seem to sizzle and go lax in her presence. It was confounding how she - a person who he did not know existed until a couple months ago - was able to elicit such contradictory responses from his body without so much as sparing a glance in his direction. And that is one mystery he thinks he does not want to decipher, but he would happily be an ignorant fool and ride along the waves for as long as he can.] 'as long as he can' Okay. Okay. thank you. mhm.

[“I’m sorry for giving you a hard time when you buy me things. I know you never do it to make me feel less than. It’s just- it’s just that I don’t want to think you have to get me these expensive things, take me to fancy restaurants to show me you care. Every second you spend with me is enough. You always make me feel loved. Like this bath today. It’s helped me so much. It’s just that I feel like I have to match you sometimes. It feels like you’re always taking care of me and you seem to do everything right. Sometimes I can’t help but think I don’t do the same for you and I don’t want to be a burden. I’ve been made to feel like that a lot,” she tells him quietly, voice as delicate as the wing of a butterfly.

“Oh sweet girl,” he coos, cupping her face. “Baby, you always take care of me too. You take care of me when I’m sick, you make me food, you’re always the one who tells me I’m going too far when I’m working out too much, and best of all you scratch my back to help me fall asleep.” He takes a deep shuddering breath in. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not a burden to me. Never will be one. That’s not how love works. How can someone I love so fucking deeply be a burden, hmm?” A tear, beads at his waterline, and she reaches forward and wipes it away.] tears up fr

[tugging their joint hands towards his lips as he seals their deal with a kiss.] I don't know what I'm done with you for. The fluffiness, or the angst.

[“That so?” He questions, a content smile stretches across his face, making the butterflies erupt from deep within his chest.

“Yeah. Don’t tell Dolphin this but I think you are very close to replacing him,” she confesses, feeling the heat rush to the tips of her ears.

“Poor guy. That stuffie never had a chance.” He smirks. “Best to keep it a secret from him then.”

“Yeah, would want him murdering you in the middle of the night for stealing his favourite girl away,” she giggles.

“I better be on the lookout for him when I come over to yours then,” he laughs.] ahhhhhHHHHHHH MAYAAAAAAAAAAA

[“Yeah.” He answers quickly, feeling his heart pick up speed, blushing because he knows she could feel it too. “When the right person comes along.” Mossy eyes dilate as they flick to her raven irises. “I won’t probably jump into it like my parents did. But yeah, I’d love to have my own family to come back to after a long day.”

“Family like kids or animal babies?”

“It’ll be nice to have one of each. A boy and a girl. Pups too. And Maybe if I’m lucky the missus will let me have a turtle like I’ve always wanted.] my oh my Maya, you're SO not getting away with this.

[Harry sighs, he hates that her mother constantly has the ability to do this to her and he hates that no matter how hard Layla tries, she keeps getting bulldozed.] I FREAKING KNOW RIGHT

[“You know,” Layla says, “I never thought of talking to her. She could have been in the same position as me years ago. Thanks Harry.”

“Happy to be of service,” he salutes, making the two laugh. “I love you, Layla.” He pinches her cheek fondly.

“I know.” She smiles, pressing a kiss to the inked antenna of the butterfly inked to his chest. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t begin to tell you how much you mean to me.”] thank you very much Maya. Thank you.

////

[“Just thought we’d drop off lunch for you. Aloo Paratha,” Ashwin replies, shaking the box of Tupperware in his hand.] immediately starts drooling

[“I didn’t want that ஓட்டைவாய் (blabbermouth) to hear,” he informs her, turning around to make sure Pooja isn’t eavesdropping.] there's something about the word 'blabbermouth' that makes me laught out loud every time

[“I was wondering if you’d been to the Museum of Art. I thought it would be a fun trip,” Ashwin suggests......You've been to a lot of places with Harry huh?”] I have a feeling someone has a crush.... eh

[“You don’t have to accompany him everywhere,” he laughs. ] ...stfu

////

[She unscrews the lid of the honey jar, and drizzles a generous amount on the slices of Brie and peaches.] me and ms. honey aren't very good friends

peach and cheese???? ahhhhhhhhHHH sometimes the things this girl eats get to me man

[“I’d rather my honey be somewhere else,” he mumbles huskily against her ear. ] *cringes for a second*

[“So bloody sweet for me,” he tells her, as his fingertips smear some honey, from the plate, on her cheek. She squeals in response, when he licks the sweet concoction. ] I get why you put honey in the warnings now

[“We don’t have to do it if-“ He gasps when she spreads it across his lips. She laughs, raising her chin up with pride, a naughty smile spreads across her face.

“My turn then,” she declares, scooting forward so her bum is at the edge of the table. Her sticky hand finds its place, caressing the faint five o’clock shadow, as she smiles into the kiss. ] if only had I been a fan of honey... but that doesn't put much effect cause you see i freaked out just as much if not more.

[He reaches for the small bottle beside her, unceremoniously unscrewing the lid, then drizzling a string of the golden liquid across her full breasts. A shiver runs down her spine, as a cold breeze trails in through the French doors. His fingers dance across her skin, smearing the sugary syrup across her clavicles, down her sternum, making their way down to the small pudge below her bellybutton.

“There,” he muses, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “Now you truly are my sweet girl.”] I swear if mum were to turn around and see me right now, she would call the mental hospital cause i'm going FERAL

[“No no. Want you now. Wanna feel all of you,” she says. ] do not make decisions while horny Layla

[ “And I- shit.” She gasps, as he nudges at her g spot. ] DON'T TELL ME SHE WAS ABOUT TO SAY WHAT I THINK SHE WAS

[“And I love everything I get to do with you,” she mumbles. ] ...oh well

////

[“Alright see you tomorrow. Tell me how it goes. Can’t believe you’re old enough to be teaching at a collegiate level,” he points, pinching her dimpled cheek and pulling it from side to side making her swat him away. ] smiles

[Showtime.] SLAYYY

I seriously wish I had a teacher like her during online classes sigh

[The rest of the class goes smoothly. The students became extremely enthusiastic when she pulled up the PowerPoint and played a game - making the class do the Stroop test, wanting to show that learning behavioural neuroscience was not as boring as they think. It was quite rewarding to see all twenty three students very easily theorise what the experiment measures, and how it can be useful in their practice as future clinicians. They took a thirty minute break and Layla was so grateful for the bowl of nuts her uncle put on the desk. They all went through the syllabus in detail and to finish off the class, she made everyone introduce themselves and name rate the last movie they watched with a noise. Needless to say, the icebreaker was a hoot and if the other two undergrad classes were like this - it was a job well done.] I'm so proud literally love her so much

[With a soft afghan draped over his torso, Harry reads. Or rereads. The copy of Bukowski’s Love Is a Dog From Hell] ahhhHHHHH BUKOWSKIIIIII

[After the Alzheimer’s diagnosis, the roles had reversed - Harry was now the one reading to his grandad, relishing the taste of their moments of spirited discourse - knowing that in the near future he will be longing for them, as his granddad’s faculties decline.] awh

[telling him it was the perfect set up for a wham bam thank you ma’am] lmaooo

[Now, he can’t think of not ever having her in his life. Is it all fate? Were their atoms battered into the very cosmos that created them, intermingling, destined to cross paths? These were some of the questions he’d penned into his journal, the night he’d told her that he loved her. The night he stayed awake just staring at the creature passed out next to him, in the makeshift hobbit hole. ] I only selected 6 lines but this whole paragraph was very much loved by me

[“Don’t laugh. I’ve owned this matching golf outfit since middle school and it’s the only one I have.] I'm guilty that I did laugh

[His mouth twists in disdain as he sees Layla climb into Ashwin’s car with a laugh, handing him her bag of clubs, rolling his eyes at the way Ashwin shuts the trunk of the car. The green eyed monster - is certainly going to make an appearance in his journal today with derision aimed at Ashwin.] what an ending

She's baaaack after crushing her exams! It's honestly so adorable that you feel very protective of Layla. It's endearing to me.

[“You don’t have to accompany him everywhere,” he laughs. ] ...stfu

This made me laugh so hard, not gonna cry. What are we gonna do with Ashwin, huh?

Sorry about honey not agreeing with you. Maybe replace honey with maple syrup of some sort??

[ “And I- shit.” She gasps, as he nudges at her g spot. ] DON'T TELL ME SHE WAS ABOUT TO SAY WHAT I THINK SHE WAS [“And I love everything I get to do with you,” she mumbles. ] ...oh well

Patience, young grasshopper... if it happens, you'll be the first one to know.

Thank you so much for the feedback! You know how much I cherish these!

#bookclub #aprajita #six months #part twenty one

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 years

Text

Thunder In Our Hearts (Part 3)

Summary: The reader learns a little more about what happened when Soldier Boy was captured and the pair come to realize they shouldn’t judge each other in black and white terms. After Soldier Boy kills for the reader again, he’s more understanding of her and the reader starts to notice he might not be stuck in the past like she thought...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x reader

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, nudity, violence, drug/abuse/sexual assault/torture mentions

A/N: Spoilers for Season 3 of The Boys in this one! Could some progress start being made here?…

_______

You gasped under the ice cold shower, Soldier Boy growling as you went wide eyed, his hands shoving you back under.

“You were right, you shouldn’t get high. Sober the fuck up and go to bed.” He shut the door on you, leaving you shivering and soaked to the bone on the floor. You forced your hand up to turn the stream warmer, closing your eyes in relief. The change of sudden body temperature though had your stomach churning and soon you were in front of the toilet, heaving your dinner up.

Finally, you felt well enough to move and left your wet clothes behind, opting for a towel around your body to get you back to your bedroom.

“Y/N.” You jumped when you left the bathroom, Soldier Boy stepping out from his dark bedroom. You backed into yours, Soldier Boy stalking straight in, matching you step for step. “Do you honestly think I deserved what happened to me in Russia? Do you think I deserved to be locked back up in a box, allowed to never fucking die? Don’t start lying to me now, kid.”

You looked down at your feet, inhaling deeply. “If it were up to me, knowing what I do about what you’ve done, the innocent lives you’ve taken, the asshole you were raised to be? You deserved a few years. Maybe. But not forty. Forty is just someone just hurting you because they could. If you want to kill me for thinking you deserved some of it, that’s your choice.”

“I am not a violent asshole!” he shouted. He slammed his fist down, breaking the small table by the bed.

“You kind of are,” you dared. He laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Ben-”

“Don’t fucking Ben me. I am a motherfucking person! Don’t you say I deserved that shit!” He walked you back against the wall, hands balled into fists. “Say I didn’t deserve it. Say it!”

“The you today didn’t deserve it. But the guy from forty years ago? He sure as fuck did. If you hadn’t, can you honestly say you understand long term pain and suffering? Would you have let me live if you didn’t know what it was like to be hurt for no reason day after day after day?” He punched his fist straight through the wall by your head, body shaking. “You won’t scare me into changing my mind. Just get it over with.”

You closed your eyes when he reared back. When you opened them, he was gone and his bedroom door was shut, a light coming from underneath. Your knees buckled and you slid down the wall, inhaling sharply. But you made yourself get up and dressed, grabbing the computer and hiding away in your room, door locked.

Headphones in, you pressed play on a video from ‘97, Soldier Boy strapped to a table, wires and tubes sticking into his skin. He was drugged up on something, his head immobile but his eyes pleading.

“No, no, no,” he whispered, trying to break free but he was too weak. “Please not that today. Anything else. Please.”

A scientist in a biohazard suit approached him, a few others putting a bite guard in his mouth to keep it open.

“Subject test one liter nuclear waste. The subject has shown incredible sustainability against nuclear material in the past. Today we are testing a higher volume followed by a rapid expulsion of the material to test the subject’s stomach and esophagus for durability.”

“Oh my…” you trailed off, watching them pour a muddied liquid in his open mouth. You covered your mouth when they forced it out of him and into a durable container, Soldier Boy panting for air between screams. Some of it got on the floor and you watched wide eyed as it ate away through straight through the concrete.

A mask was placed over his mouth, Soldier Boy still shouting before he was out cold.

He was right.

No one deserved forty years of that.

Not even him.

“Good morning.” You offered him a plate of eggs and bacon when he exited his bedroom the next day. He ignored it, taking the whiskey bottle and plopping down on the couch instead. “Ben.”

“Say that name again and I’ll cave your skull in.”

“Okay, you’re pissed at me still. I get it. But can you understand my point I was making?” He looked over his shoulder, eyes wide.

“Because I did my job as a supe, as a hero, and saved people no matter the cost, I deserved that? Because maybe I thought I was a little better than some people, because of what I can do, I deserved that? I deserved to be poked and prodded like a fucking lab rat?” He was on his feet again and you didn’t want a repeat of last night. You met him halfway, his finger pointed at you when you did something surprising.

He froze, swallowing thickly.

“Why are you hugging me?” he said quietly.

“I just thought you could use a kind touch for once. I didn’t phrase it the right way last night. You didn’t deserve torture, Ben.”

“But I deserved punishment.”

“Yes and you got it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just an asshole that’s stuck in the past.” The air was still. You dropped your arms, Ben, stroking his finger up and down your arm. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Offer’s always on the table.” His finger continued to dance over your skin, pausing at a light bruise. “You’re young.”

“I’m thirty.”

“You’re young,” he said again, thumbing over the bruise. “I’m eighty years older than you and somehow we wound up living the same story. Children that disappoint their fathers by simply existing.”

“You don’t look a day over forty,” you said. He smiled, nodding his head. “I’d be willing to stay if you changed.”

“I won’t change.” He dropped his hand, instead picking up his breakfast, eating it as he leaned against the counter.

“I know. Part of me wishes you could.” He stopped chewing, pausing a beat. “I wish you weren’t afraid to talk to me either. No one’s going to come take your manhood away because you open up.”

“That’s pussy talk and seeing as how I don’t have one,” he said, giving you a look. “You’re out of luck. You get what you get.”

“Isn’t it funny? We can understand each other so much but we can’t stop making mountains out of molehills.”

“Strong men and strong women don’t work out. He thinks she’s a bitch and she thinks he’s an asshole. Just the facts.” He shoveled the eggs into his mouth as you sat down at the table, taking a sip of coffee.

“Sometimes. But sometimes, when the man realizes how great it is to have a strong partner, you form a motherfucking power couple.”

“What the fuck is a power couple?” You smiled, Soldier Boy rolling his eyes. “Maybe for the cameras but behind the scenes? Then-”

“She’s normally pulling the strings. Why do the work when your puppet can do it for you?” He brought his lips together, narrowing his eyes. “I am not calling you my puppet, Soldier Boy.”

“Good cause that ain’t never happening.” He put the dish in the sink as you cleared your throat. He groaned, putting on a smile. “Y/N you look rather stunning today-”

“Wash it yourself or I won’t buy you a present.”

“Present? What kind of present?”

“Trust me. You’re gonna love it.”

“Dude.” You were wide eyed when Soldier Boy slid into the backseat, covered head to toe in blood. “How many-”

“A lot. We should probably go.” You didn’t need to be told twice, checking him in the backseat every so often. Once you hit the state line you relaxed, Soldier Boy having shimmied out of his bloody suit and now crawling into the front seat in his boxer briefs. “I gotta hand it to the future. The underwear is amazing. Tight but not too tight. Soft, supportive of the boys.”

“Boxer briefs are what you love about modern day society. Of course they are,” you said, shaking your head. You shoved more wet wipes at him from when you’d ducked in a gas station along the drive down. “Clean yourself up please before we get pulled over.”

“So why is everyone so obsessed with being clean nowadays?” He held up a wipe, using it to get some dried blood off his ear.

“Maybe it’s because everyone goes around committing bloody murders and needs to be able to clean up fast.” He gave you a bitch face, tossing the wipe in the back. “Is being clean being a pussy now too?”

“No. I’m trying to learn as my wonderful partner in crime keeps telling me I should do more of.” He flashed you a cocky smile before it disappeared.

“Put on your seatbelt.”

“Kiddo I’ve drunk bleach. I’m kind of indestructible.”

“Again, I don’t want us to get pulled over.” He groaned, making a show out of putting it on, grumpily staring ahead. “Thank you.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You are literally a fucking child in a grown man’s body,” you laughed. “I don’t know why I’m still surprised.”

“Vought a burger,” he said, pointing out the window. He flashed you a smile and put on his puppy dog eyes. “I did just kill like twenty eight people for you. Not that I was counting.”

You pulled over, wide eyed as he closed his eyes.

“Twenty eight? Four. There were four names on that list! You killed-”

“First off, every motherfucker there deserved it. They were doing things to a female soldier. I thought you might appreciate that.” You gripped the wheel tight and sighed. “She was blindfolded. I brought her outside, cut her loose and told her to run which she did. Then I set the place on fire as agreed.”

You tapped the wheel, Soldier Boy slumping down into his seat.

“I thought you’d be happy I saved someone’s life.” You hadn’t been expecting any of that when you stumbled upon the fact all four men you wanted dead were getting together. But you should have known they were up to no good.

“Y/N? We should keep moving. Blood in the back?”

You nodded, hoping he got there before things had gone truly horrible for that poor girl.

“You are up early,” said Soldier Boy the next day. He sat next to you on the back step, nudging your arm. “Were you that girl? I mean, were you in her place once upon a time?”

“Joined the service to get away from my father. Got turned into a party favor for fucking assholes instead.” You rested your crossed arms on your knees, placing your chin on top. “Do you think I’m weak?”

“You killed at least eight guards by yourself at that place they were holding us. No, I don’t think you’re weak.”

“People in positions of power over me abused it, did what they wanted with me. I’m really surprised you don’t find me to be weak back then at least.”

“Are you trying to trick me into saying something asshole-ish again?” A small smile appeared on your face as you shook your head. “Facts are you’re weaker than a man. Just a fact. You made yourself strong though. You kept that fire. Most people see themselves as the victim. You’re the survivor. Big difference in my book.”

“I’m still less than you though because I’m weaker than you. It’s okay to say it, Soldier Boy.” He rested his palms flat against the porch, leaning back on them.

“I don’t fucking know anything anymore. Once upon a time, I thought men like that were real men. The hardass generals. The fighters. The soldiers. Now, shit, now maybe the guy wearing the fucking baby harness shit is a real man. I don’t know jack shit about this world. The more I learn, the more I don’t understand.”

“You are trying to learn,” you whispered. He didn’t look at you, gaze focused on the treeline. “Aren’t you?”

“The way I see it, you’re the only person on this planet that hasn’t fucked me over. I don’t agree with half the shit that comes out of your mouth but out of the two formally tortured, captive, betrayed people sitting here, one of us is a lot less fucked up than the other one.”

“You’re not that fucked up,” you said. You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling his cheek nuzzle the top of your head for a split second. “I mean you are but we can fix that. Unlike that Homelander guy. He’s fucking nuts with his cult.”

“The guy who replaced me? I’ve met the pussy.” You raised your head when he started to chuckle. “I never mentioned who I want to kill, did I?”

“Homelander?”

“Along with a few others. I know he’s strong. Killing him will require planning. I know our deal is to help find him but I’d appreciate the help.”

“Alright,” you said, holding out a hand, Soldier Boy shaking it. “Why do you want him dead? Cause he stole the spotlight and ruined your reputation?”

“That and…he’s my pathetic excuse for a son. I didn’t mention that, did I?”

______

A/N: Reader Part 4 here!

#soldier boy fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys fanfic #soldier boy reader insert #soldier boy x #soldier boy x you #soldier boy series

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gundamcalibarney · 2 years

Text

@standswap-september

Three in One just like with JoJos Parts 1-2-3! But with some Morioh Kids!

///⁉️🔭🎙///

[ Cherry Moon ] - named after the song by Prince is the Stand of Eiichi Haseki after he got shot by the Stand arrow by bunch of wasps, it first didn’t take form until put against the lying Stand [ The Who ]. It’s main ability is to be able to turn drawn objects and sounds into stickers that can either be brought to reality or be stickable and affect it’s targets however is limited to things that are inanimate, if it tries bringing drawn people then they just turn into paper dolls.

It has a very curious personality and is surprisingly skittish in comparison to it’s more upfront user and has surprisingly stricken a close friendship with [ Smooth Operator ] despite the users of both despising each other.

[ Ophelia ] - named after the song by The Band is the Stand of Hachiro Santos is one of seeing, it has immense physical strength that rivals that of When Doves Cry however also has a general telescope ability that allows for one to zoom in on things like microscopes but can work like a regular one mainly via the floating mini scope in it’s chest that can be summoned independently from it.

While it would normally be a very useful Stand, Hachiro seems to prefer using it as a force as opposed to something more than that.

[ Smooth Operator ] - named after the song by Sade is the Stand of Sada Aiteru is an audio based Stand. Able to mimic voices and sounds or be able to play or record sounds, it’s recorder tape body is prehensile and can be used for battle as a sort of restraint weapon

///⁉️🔭🎙///

Design Notes:

[ Cherry Moon ] - Koichi short therefore Cherry Moon is too, i wanted to do a sort of animal-ish Stand for him. Think like a dog-rabbit hybrid. He has both ⁉️ and the two kanji often seen in JoJo because of it’s ability while red is mixed to sort of balance the colour palette and provide emphasis on said things i mentioned before (and cause it looked pleasing).

You can only see it if you zoom in but there are the dot halftone thing as a sort of reference to Pop Art because that’s widely seen in comic books. As of now i am unsure whether to make it an Act Stand or not.

[ Ophelia ] - I had a bit of a hard time designing him surprisingly! I don’t know why but he was, but i persisted cause i needed to do him so that’s how this exists! The telescope theming is meant to be a sort of counter to The Hand’s “look only one way” sort of direction it had with it’s design, fundamentally it’s still the same motif just spun a little bit.

He originally had a mouth but then i erased it cause i didn’t like it. The X was also supposed to stick out like Tessarus’ visor from MTMTE but it didn’t look good either so it was Marilyn Manson looking face for him!

[ Smooth Operator ] - My favourite of the bunch! Junie gave me the idea of wires but i sort of turned it into like cassette string like you see in casettes, her little headphone thingies are based on reel-to-reel tape recorders. Her hair was so tedious yet so fun to do and it kinda reminded me of that one SCP.

I TRIED to deviate from the school uniform but it ended up not being too possible as i wanted to have a bit of colour separation in a way that i’d personally like but then it still looked like a school uniform and i said “fuck it, Sada is a school PA runner and also a newsgirl” because of this.

#core’s art #jjba #jojo’s bizarre adventure #standswap #standswap september #okuyasu nijimura #koichi hirose #yukako yamagishi #god casette string was so fun to fuck up like pulling that shit from the casette was surprisingly fun #jjba mothswap

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hornime · 4 years

Text

voyeurant | kenma kozume x f!reader

he tentatively wrapped a palm around the shaft, shuddering at the contact, his eyelids fluttering shut. god, i’m such a pervert, thinking about her like this. she’d hate me if she knew i saw her like that, knew that i was touching myself thinking about her tits...

warnings: 18+, timeskip!kenma, kinda dubcon, kenma’s unintentionally pervy, male masturbation, poorly written video game content (i tried my best), mutual pining but u both are oblivious

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: yes, the title is a shitty pun of valorant. no, i will not be changing it. also this tiktok about timeskip kenma made me giggle so pls enjoy.

voyeurant: part one ↓ | part two | part three:

“fuck, i hate this map,” kenma grumbled into his headset.

your voiced chimed in his ears. “is it ascent?” you turned to see his face on your screen, pinched in annoyance. “ha, it is ascent. sucks for you.”

“which one are you on? haven?”

“you know it,” you chuckled. “your favorite.”

“i hate you.” he weighed his options, did he really want to play this game? the layout of the world made it irritatingly hard to strategize, and today’s losing streak was making him more agitated than usual. with a sign, he closed the application. “fuck this. i’m gonna go piss.”

“yeah, yeah, you’re such a big baby. and...” you released your mouse, throwing your hands up in triumph, “we just won. at this point, i’m gonna outrank you.” you were joking, of course. kenma wasn’t just a gamer, he was kodzuken, one of japan’s best pro-gamers, and you were just someone that played as a hobby. but it was always fun to tease.

“hmm,” he hummed. “i’m sure you will.” he turned his head to look directly at his webcam, smirking, “in your dreams.”

“ooh, catboy’s getting feisty!” he flinched at the nickname. “go pee so i can beat you at your best.”

he obliged, pulling his headphones off and looping them on the top of his chair. he casually raised his middle finger at you while smoothing out strands of his hair, prompting a series of profanities to escape your mouth, none of which he could hear. he chuckled playfully as you responded with two middle fingers of your own, before moving out of the camera to get to the bathroom.

you and kenma had met in an... interesting way, to say the least. after going moderately viral from lashing out at him for refusing to heal you in a game of overwatch—while he was streaming—the two of you reconciled over a twitter thread and exchanged gamer tags. since then, you’d struck up an easygoing friendship, characterized by almost nightly discord calls and occasional flirting. but we’re just friends, you often reminded yourself. and you were fine, well, mostly fine, with that.

tonight was like any other night: both you and him spending hours in a video chat with nothing better to do than mindlessly play games and bash each other. it was more than enough to strengthen your relationship but fell short of giving you the romantic tension you craved.

with kenma off in the bathroom, you, already bored, spun wildly in your chair. forgetting that your earbuds were still plugged in, the white wire caught on an opened can of coke sitting on your desk, spilling the sugary drink all over your keyboard and the front of your shirt.

“shit!” you quickly scrambled for paper towels, but the still-connected wire yanked you backwards. in your haste for something to wipe the soda with, the fact that your camera remained on in the video call completely slipped your mind. making the split-second decision that the trip for a towel wasn’t worth it at this point, you quickly whipped off your shirt, dabbing the keys with the part that was still dry. since you were home, you’d gone braless, and your current predicament had you flashing your webcam.

now, kenma had seen a lot of things from your side of the call: he’d seen you get chewed out by your residential advisor for being too loud, you with two sticks of pocky poking out of your mouth like walrus tusks, and you doing random cosplay moves you’d seen on tiktok. what he wasn’t expecting to see, not even in his wildest dreams, was a screenful of your tits, slightly damp from the cola that had seeped through the fabric of your long-gone shirt.

he stopped in his tracks, still out of the frame of his camera, eyes wide and heart racing, desperately trying to calm down and prevent the gradual hardening of his cock in his pants. unable to deny his desires, he continued staring at your plump breasts on his computer, you completely unaware that he could see you.

you quickly threw your soaked top in the laundry basket before throwing on a random sweatshirt and trying to calm your frazzled nerves. you tentatively touched your keyboard, groaning internally when you fingers lightly stuck to the buttons. it’s gonna take forever to clean this, you mourned.

“hey,” kenma mumbled, reappearing on screen and shaking you out of your thoughts.

“hey.” you noticed his flushed expression. “are you okay? you look really red.”

“uh, yeah. i actually uh, i feel kinda sick. so i’m gonna, gonna go.”

“oh, okay.” why’s he acting so weird? “feel better!” you disconnected from the call with a huff, disappointment morphing your face into a pout. well, you thought, better get to cleaning.

kenma, on the other hand, was still, swallowing as the bulge in his boxers became agonizingly hard. though the only thing left on his screen was his reflection staring back at him, the luscious view of your bust was etched in his mind. his hands moved to free his cock, the tip an angry red and smearing pre-cum over the waistband of his underwear.

“fuck,” he whined, slowly stroking up and down. his thighs trembled as he fell back into his chair, mind wandering. he couldn’t stop himself, his thoughts become more and more lewd, fantasizing about how your breasts would bounce as he thrusted into you, how your thighs would wrap warmly around your head as he ate you out, how you’d cry out his name so prettily when he made you squirt around his fingers.

it was all too much, and as the circle he made with his fingers tightened as he reached his tip, he lurched forward, alarmed at how good everything felt just by thinking about you. i can’t cum, i can’t, the small part of his brain that wasn’t completely overtaken with pleasure tried to reason with him. there’s no going back if i—shit—if i cum. she’ll know, somehow, if i—if i cum, i—

the ecstasy kept clouding his judgement and his body worked against his mind as his hand pumped faster and faster while his conscience screamed to stop. his wrist wetly slapped the base of his cock, the sounds of both his hands and his moans getting too loud for comfort, but all he could think about was you. your eyes, your mouth, your chest, your legs, your ass, your pussy. god, he wanted to be in you so badly.

he couldn’t hold back, his insatiable need to cum overriding his senses, and the translucent liquid twitched out of his throbbing cock in spurts, drenching his fist and his balls. “fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m—fuck.”

he collapsed against the back of his chair, chest heaving with the sheer intensity of his orgasm. he combed a hand through his hair, the consequences of his actions now weighing heavily on his shoulders. i’m never gonna be able to look at her in the eyes again, he lamented. how am i ever gonna—damn it.

the sudden ping of a notification had his eyes raising from the mess on his pants towards his computer screen.

meanwhile, you were messaging kenma, a little off-put by his sudden radio silence but chalking it all up to his mysterious sickness.

[11:05 PM] you: hey ken! hope u feel better

[11:05 PM] you: if u get the chance u should check out what i added to our minecraft house. its perfect for sick victorian orphans like u

[12:14 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: why arent u responding

[12:05 PM] you: guess

[12:05 PM] you: ok u got me ill tell u

[12:05 PM] you: its a hot tub

[12:05 PM] you: but with soup

[12:05 PM] you: but the soup is lava

[12:05 PM] you: genius right

[12:06 PM] you: anyway get some sleep and feel better <3

[12:06 PM] you: lmk if u wanna play animal crossing

[12:06 PM] you: actually no u should sleep. rest ur eyes and shit

[12:06 PM] you: no animal crossing for u!

[12:06 PM] you: sleep well so i can destroy ur ass in val tmrw

[12:06 PM] you: >:)

he sighed as he read your one-sided ramblings. he really liked you.

and he really wanted to fuck you. lucky for you, you wanted the exact same thing.

if only kenma knew what you did on the other side of the screen, hands in your undies and his name on your lips...

>> part two

#i have never played a game of valorant in my life #for someone thats only watched their friends play i think this is pretty decent #like wtf is ascent idfk #kinky.inky #haikyuu smut #haikyuu! smut #kenma smut #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x you #kenma x reader #tw.dubcon #kenma

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thesolferino · 4 years

Text

True Calling

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ word count: 3.9k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream meets his favorite singer on an among us livestream.

“Dude, what could go wrong? Just do it.”

“What could go wrong?! Literally so many things, you ass.”

Dream heard Sapnap sigh through the mic right into his headphones, the dim grey of his Discord background doing barely anything to illuminate his features as he stared at his open messages blankly.

“First of all, don’t.. speak to me like that, I am doing you a favour by sitting here and listening to you panic about stupid shit. Second of all, nothing big could go wrong. What, you’re a little awkward in the beginning, maybe, and that’s it.” Dream adjusted his headphones a little bit, Sapnap’s rant flowing into his ears but dissipating somewhere halfway to his brain, because, yes, things could go wrong and he can’t be proven otherwise.

“Did you forget that I’m a public figure? And that my fans are insane? I say one wrong thing and it’ll be memed and haunt me in my dreams. Did you forget that SHE’s a public figure? And that this is live? God…” he retorts back, listening to Sapnap helplessly sigh once again in response. He anxiously switches from his Discord to Twitter, then to YouTube, to Twitch and then back to Discord, frantically clicking around. In reality, he knows Sapnap is right, and it’s anxiety whispering into his ear that he’s gonna somehow fuck up, but maybe it’s simply easier to stay and argue with him into the night instead of actually responding to that message.

The stream is still going. Quackity’s voice speaks over Sapnap’s quiet breathing. “Damn, he’s still not responding. Um, let me try Tubbo, maybe?”

Before he knows it, the opportunity to join the stream is slipping out of his fingers, and Dream isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not. On one hand, he gets to meet one of his favorite artists whose album he’s played way too many times to count, and on the other, the chances of him embarrassing himself in front of that same artist and a hundred thousand other people are extremely high, and he’s not sure if he likes the odds of that.

“Man, I don’t know. You won’t listen to me, anyway. Don’t join if you don’t want to.” Dream hears the annoyed tinge in Sapnap’s voice, and that’s what pours the last bit of courage into his veins because the best way to do anything in life is to follow Sapnap’s advice after you’ve already irritated him to the point of defeat, and he murmurs a quick “bye” and hangs up before the other can even respond, typing a rapid “Sure, send me the VC link” back to Quackity.

He hears a delighted exhale coming from his Twitch tab just as Quackity forwards him the link. “Okay, nevermind, we’ve got Dream! He’ll join in a second.”

With that, he swiftly closes the Twitch tab and with an encouraging sip of water, he finally joins the Discord voice chat with the rest of the players. Your Discord image sticks out like a sore thumb to him despite being a super basic, Googleable picture of you that he’s probably seen a million times by now, and upon seeing it, reality slaps him right over the face and he realises that, oh shit, he actually joined.

“Hey everyone.” Dream speaks into the mic and a mix of excited voices greets him at the same time as he loads up the game. Your icon is missing the green halo. He stares at it, as if you’ll magically speak up if he stares long and hard enough. That, apparently, works.

Pokimane’s “Dream, hi!” seems to set something off in your brain, and you speak again.

“Oh, Dream?” the green halo appears, and Dream resists the urge to say something stupid or bite his hand or anything of the sort when you say his name. “Aren’t you the guy who listens to my music all the time?” you giggle.

Quackity laughs loudly in his usual fashion, and Dream feels his hands go cold as the Among Us loading page pops up. “Wh-huh?”

“Yeah, you-you listen to my music a lot! Your fans always tag me under that… ‘Dream’s Spotify’ Twitter account, I remember you.” Dream swears his heart is about to jump out of his chest and start bouncing around on the floor because his ribs are way too restrictive for that type of movement, but he tries his best to play it cool and laughs lightheartedly.

“I do! I’m, like, your biggest fan.” he grins, as if you can see him, and you laugh in return.

“Yeah, man, you pay my rent. Thanks.” you say and a couple of people laugh while Dream inputs the code and his character finally pops up, immediately running around like the rest of the group. He runs around your purple character and hears you chuckle as you run around him too, but not for long, because the game starts and everyone mutes themselves. He audibly sighs, because he can afford to, considering he’s not streaming and nobody can hear the amount of courage this whole thing is taking him.

A notification pops up on his screen - the Dream Team group chat seems to be talking. Must’ve already found some way to make fun of me, he thinks to himself as he huffs out a large breath and runs through cafeteria and weapons to do his tasks in navigation. Corpse is hot on his tail the whole time, and not to say he’s an untrustworthy guy, but Dream isn’t really looking forward to getting killed before even speaking to you properly, so he runs around, trying to find somebody to stick with so Corpse doesn’t shove a knife in his back while he’s doing a task.

Thankfully, Karl emerges somewhere from the direction of storage right into communications where Dream was going, too. Just as Dream starts finishing download and Corpse and Karl line up behind him, his screen flashes bright red and white and the bold letters “Dead body reported” pop up. Everyone unmutes themselves and his eyes bore into your character, immediately.

“Alright, the body was in top left of the… uh, upper engine. I need everyone’s positions.” Rae immediately spoke.

“I was in electrical, I-I went through cafeteria to the upper engine with Poki, there was nobody there, we did our tasks, went down to lower engine, then Poki left with Toast, and I went to electrical and the body was reported.” Sykkuno said, and Pokimane confirmed with a hum of agreement.

“Dream?” Rae asked, and he spoke up.

“I never even went that way, I went through weapons to nav, and then to communications, and then the body was found. Corpse can vouch for me because he was following me the entire time and I kinda thought he was gonna kill me. And Karl saw me in communications, us three were all together when you… reported the body.” He rambled, trying to defend himself.

“Yeah, it’s true, he was with me the whole time.” Corpse supported.

“Karl, which way did you get to communications?” Toast asked.

“Uh, through storage.” Karl replied quickly.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was in security, and I could swear I saw you walk past.” Toast said, and a couple of “ooh”s echo through the call.

“That makes no sense because even if I did go that way, I wouldn’t have time to get to communications and start doing my task with Dream and Corpse if I killed Ethan! And Rae, you-you saw me do my task in storage!” Karl loudly defended himself.

“...that… that’s true, yeah.” she said.

“If you ask me, Toast, you’re being real sus for lying about that.” Karl threw it back at Toast, who protested.

“Listen, I didn’t say you killed anybody, I just said I saw someone run past!” he claimed.

“Bretman and Y/N are being real quiet, though.” Corpse points out, and the green halo around your icon lights up once again.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realise I was muted. Sorry, guys.” you laughed. “Um, I was with… Quackity, in… what’s that shit on the right called?”

“O2.” Quackity quickly jumped in.

“Right, O2. I went to… top left, first, and I did my tasks there, and then to weapons and then to O2, and then the body was reported.”

“You were in top left?” Rae repeated.

“Yeah.”

“And was there anyone with you?”

“Um… no? I was alone, and then I saw Quackity in top right, and then we went to, uh, O2 together.” you said and Corpse sighed loudly.

“That means she could’ve had the time to kill Ethan and run.” Toast points out.

“Hey! I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t even know how this game works…” you whined into the mic and Quackity laughed.

“Yeah, I dunno Y/N, you were dancing real suspiciously around me…” he said, causing you to defend yourself louder.

“Why would I kill anyone?! I don’t even know how to do that, I’m a nice person!”

“I don’t think she did it, guys.” Dream pipes up, tugging at the wire of his headphones absentmindedly.

“Shut up, you simp.” Quackity fires back instantly, making everyone in the call laugh, including Dream.

“Damn right, I’m a Y/N simp. She can do no wrong. I mean, look at that innocent face! She did nothing, I’m-I’m sure.” He argued, making you cover your mouth and giggle.

“Their face is literally the same as everyone’s! We’re all astronauts!” Rae protested, but Dream kept shaking his head.

“No, hers is more innocent.” he said. “Toast, why are you so set on accusing everyone, anyway?”

“Oh, you’re so not attacking Toast right now-”

“Guys, I think we should skip.” Sykkuno pipes up to calm the conversation, and everyone agrees, even though most of them mumble “sus” under their breath as soon as they mute their mics.

Dream’s tiny green astronaut stomps his way over to the left side immediately, changing paths this time and making his way into the Upper Engine, trying to finish his tasks in time and possibly find someone to accompany him so he at least doesn’t have to argue over his alibi. He had four tasks left, two of them in Upper Engine, so after that he was free to roam around wherever his heart desired. Just as he started doing one of them, he watched your purple character step in and run circles around him, earning you a quiet laugh that he didn’t know he uttered until he heard himself do it and silently scolded himself for getting that flustered at something so simple.

The two of you did your tasks together before going down to reactor. Just as Dream started doing one of his tasks, a dead body was reported again and he unmuted himself as Toast immediately started borderline yelling into his headphones.

“Bretman just killed Sykkuno RIGHT in front of me. I literally watched him do it. He killed Sykkuno in COLD BLOOD.” he confidently claimed and Dream, quite uninterested, grabbed his bottle of water and lightly sipped on it, wiping beads of sweat resting right above his eyebrows with his forearm, blindly looking around the darkness, trying to get his eyes to adjust looking away from the computer screen. His eyes searched for the window - it was open, just enough to let a fresh breeze inside, but it never seemed to do that, letting humid air in with open arms like a welcome guest. Florida is fucking hell, he thinks, gulping down some more water.

“No, I didn’t! I seriously did not, he’s the one who killed him and is trying to frame me now. I swear to God, Toast…” Bretman shouted into his worn mic, trying to argue back.

“Yeah, to be honest, Bretman, you were silent the whole time when Ethan died.” Rae reasoned, earning quite a lot of “ooh”s and causing little “voted” signs to appear next to Poki, Toast and Karl’s names as Bretman tried his best to fight back.

“I didn’t know I was muted the whole time! You know I’m bad at this! Why would I... you know what, nevermind! Vote me! Vote me! You’ll see when Toast kills you all, I don’t care anymore. I literally saw-”

Dream slumps further into his chair, sure that the foam would have a dent of his body shape imprinted even when he’s long gone from it, and unlocks his phone with a quiet sigh. He opens Discord, and wishes he hadn’t, because Sapnap and George are always on the front lines and ready to make fun of him at any chance possible. He types back a stupid joke, calling them losers, but before he can press send, a Twitter notification pops up on his phone that almost makes his painfully sweaty hands lose grip of the phone.

“this is so boring” your message reads, from your official Twitter account. Dream blinks a few times, and looks up from his phone to observe his murky, empty room, eyes flashing from the window to the ripped chocolate bar wrapper that somehow made its way onto the floor to a cup of coffee from this afternoon. Did the humid air finally get to him? Hallucinations?

He clicks on the notification - it proves to not be a product of his imagination, after all. Three dots dance around on his screen cheerfully, but they suddenly stop. His ears tune in. Bretman is still defending his honor. Something else must’ve interrupted you. His shaky hands barely hit the right letters.

He takes a handful of screenshots amidst his euphoria, and forwards them to the group chat with no caption besides an emoji sticking its tongue out - he wants to tell them to suck his dick, or something along those lines, but your message remains a priority as he rushes back to the Twitter app to reply.

“Right” he manages to write without a typo. “They’re annoying”

Three dots immediately return to his screen like a happy memory, and he almost can’t believe you’re texting back so fast. George would probably humble him by saying it’s because you have nothing better to do, but what George doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Dream supposes, and clicks on your profile instinctively as he adjusts his headphones on one ear. By the time you finish typing your message, the group decided to vote out Bretman, who ended up not being an imposter.

The three dots disappear as quick as they came, and so does the anticipation that bubbled up in Dream’s throat as he sourly leaves to finish the rest of his tasks. The rest of the game stays as boring as it started, save for the giggles and hushed laughter that came from you at every few jokes he made - of which he made quite a lot, in a desperate attempt to make you laugh, at least a little bit. Of course, Quackity was there every step of the way to accidentally mention how Dream sounded a lot more hype and alive during this game than he does ever, but you win some, you lose some, eh?

In the next game you actually decided to set up proximity chat, so of course Dream followed you around everywhere, hot on your tail at all times - what else is he supposed to do, when the chance presented itself, really?

“Are you imposter?” His character obnoxiously ran circles around you as you did your wires task slowly and unsurely since this stream was your first time playing.

“No, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I was, dummy.” You replied, running around his own character briefly before running up to do the rest of your tasks, watching the green astronaut follow you close behind.

“Why not?” Dream questioned, eyes following all your movements since he didn’t have anything better to do considering he finished all his tasks.

“Do you not know how this game works?”

“Yeah, but you’d tell me, right? I wouldn’t… rat you out.” He heard a sigh coming through his headphones in response, and his grin widened just a little, watching your character walk away from him.

“I know you wouldn’t.” you replied. “I’ll tell you if I’m imposter, I guess.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, would you?” Dream spoke into his mic, reaching to fix it and realising the way his hand trembled a little, fully aware he was walking the line between flirty and obnoxious more than usual. He lowered his gaze just to see his keyboard reflect the light of the computer back to him - the sweat from his palms seemed to seep onto the keyboard. He refused to think about the mocking things his best friends would say if they found out how nervous he was just to talk to you.

“No, of course not! I wouldn’t be able to kill you.” You chirped just as a dead body was discovered and the two of you were torn from the conversation.

In the next one, his screen flashed an ominous black and red with the word “Impostor” and your purple character stood proudly next to his green one, and he snickered to himself, adjusting his headphones one more time (the more he did it, the more he was convinced it was one of those anxious habits of his).

Shifting in his chair, he started moving and couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised the two of you managed to lock yourselves in a room with Corpse and Sykkuno, accomplishing a double kill in barely the first two minutes of the game. The two of you vented while Dream muttered curses under his breath, breaking out in a sweat wondering if you’re going to get caught or not as you casually hummed to a random tune while faking tasks, hitting the notes in such an effortless way that it made Dream relax and get even more nervous at the same time. It didn’t take too long before the body was found, and you seemed to adapt to the game very quickly, as Dream just sat back most of the time and watched you stretch out a whole essay on why you and Dream could NOT have been imposters.

“Why would they stick together the whole time? Couldn’t they get at least someone else to vouch for them?” Toast complained.

“Girl, Dream wants some… alone time with Y/N, obviously.” Bretman said, despite being the one most sus of you in the first place, forcing laughter out of the whole lobby, Dream’s sticking out the most as his mood constantly swayed from finding the whole thing funny to being worried sick if you actually find him weird.

“Exactly! And we’re gonna have our alone time if we want to, thank you very much.”

Well, Dream thinks, taking a stressed gulp of water from his bottle, at least we cleared that one up.

“I don’t think that sounded the way you wanted it to, Y/N.” Karl pipes up, making Quackity burst into another fit of loud laughter, and you immediately protested.

“It sounded exactly the way I wanted it to! Now, vote Rae or else.”

When the meeting was over, he ran after you through cafeteria, grin splitting out on his face before he even spoke.

“You’re pretty…” his silence extended as he watched your character stare at his. “...pretty smart.”

You snorted. “Right. You’re pretty…” you extended your silence in return, mocking him. “...too.”

His heart jumps. “You forgot a word there.” he says as you stomp out to storage.

“I said what I said, Dreamy.”

He swears this can’t be healthy for his blood pressure. In the corner of his eye, Discord notifications pop up like crazy. The boys must be watching your stream. His heart swells with both pride and dread, knowing he’s about to be called something along the lines of pretty Dreamy for the next two months.

“How do you know I’m pretty? You’ve never even seen my face.” Dream replies as heat creeps up like a spirit rising from soil, from the back of his neck, seeping into his ears and cheeks somewhat equally. His eyes dart to the window again. Of course it’s the stupid Florida weather that has him burning up, flustered. Maybe he should open another window.

“Is this an invitation to see it?” you say, a teasing tone clinging off your voice and he can practically hear you smiling.

“No, I’m just saying! If you want to see it, though, that… that can be arranged.” he bites his lip as a physical attempt of holding back the smile that breaks out as he waits for your response, chest puffing in both nervousness and odd confidence.

“Can it? I mean, I don’t need to see it, I just know already, you have those… pretty boy vibes. But I wouldn’t…” you chuckle. “...be opposed to seeing it, for sure. Don’t count on me not to leak the pictures, though. I want the clout.”

“What do you MEAN you want the clout, you’re Y/N! You don’t need clout from a Minecraft YouTuber!” He argues back, a small wheeze escaping him mid sentence as you giggle and run around, with him following your every move.

“You keep my fucking lights on, man! Whenever your Spotify Twitter account thingy tweets that you’re listening to my stuff, the streams go up! I need your clout.” you say as you run into admin and snap Toast’s neck and run back out casually, as if nothing happened.

“Yeah, that’s how me listening to your songs on repeat works.” he says and you let out some sort of irritated groan.

“Shut up, smartass.” Just as you say that, somebody seems to find the body and you’re pulled into a meeting, where Rae susses both of you immediately.

“No, because both of you are always together! And someone always spots you walking by the place where the bodies are found! At some point that can’t be a coincidence, right?” she accuses, practically yelling into the mic.

“Of course they’re always together, check- check fuckin’ Twitter! They’re trending on like three different spots already!” Quackity jumps in, loud as always, and the lobby gives off mixed reactions.

“What? We are?” Dream asks, and Quackity confirms with a “yeah, man! Check!” and so he complies, quickly pulling out his phone to check the trending tabs. Sure enough, among the politics and sports, “DREAM Y/N”, “PRETTY BOY” and “DREAM FACE” are crammed, sat at 7th, 14th and 18th place, respectfully. A satisfied grin breaks out on his face. At least they see it, too.

“This has to be the first time Dream has trended for something heterosexual.” Karl points out, earning loud laughter from Quackity and Bretman, less loud on your part.

“Exactly! We’re a power couple! Stay mad!” You shouted, with Dream supporting you in the background, although still shyly adjusting his headphones every few seconds, unable to comprehend that oh, this is actually happening.

Both of you get voted out during the next few minutes, but that really means nothing to Dream - they actually do him quite a favor, because the two of you get to excuse yourselves and he sees those three familiar dots dance on his screen again as he leans back into his chair with a dopey grin, playing with the strings of his sweatpants, waiting for your next and next and next message.

He opens Discord on his computer to type one last message into the groupchat before turning it off for the night:

Dream (03:14): maybe Minecraft wasn’t my calling after all

Dream (03:14): can’t believe I just met my soulmate on Among Us

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagine #dreamwastaken imagine #dream fanfic #dreamwastaken fanfic #dream fluff #dream x you #dreamwastaken x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfic #mcyt x reader

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shyficwriter · 3 years

Text

Who's Tougher?

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Guardians find out that Reader maybe isn't Terran while playing with one of those labor pain/period cramp simulators. Inspired by that one episode of Lucifer where Lucifer got tased.

Author’s Note: Based off this dumb post I wrote earlier, because sometimes my dumber ideas are the funniest.

Part 2 here.

Word Count: 2,376 It had started with a bet.

Who was tougher? You or Peter?

Tired of hearing your bickering one day, and after having come across a video on the internet where a couple of guys were using a period cramp simulator, Rocket decided to whip one up with some spare parts he had lying around. Took him about 10 minutes, 15 if you count the time it took him to sort through his spare parts drawer.

You and Peter where sitting at the table with Kraglin when Rocket hopped up and slapped it on the table, interrupting your bickering.

"What's that?" Peter asked, his face one of confusion.

It looked almost like Peter's Zune, only bigger and instead of headphones it had four long wires coming out of it that were attached to thin disk-shaped objects.

"This is gonna settle your argument on who's tougher once and for all so I don't gotta hear your constant whining anymore." Rocket said.

"Hey! It's not constant!" you say, a bit offended, but also not looking forward to doing whatever Rocket was suggesting. "What is that even supposed to do?"

"Saw a video online where a couple of Terran-types were using electric pulses to simulate period cramps. It does that, more or less."

"More or less??" You cry uncertainly, "You want to electrocute us? Because that's what I'm hearing."

Peter laughs, "If you're scared you can just admit that I'm tougher." He leans back in his chair with a smug look that makes you want to smack him.

You glare at him. "I'm not scared. I'm just being cautious of accepting offers to let Rocket stick electrodes on us!"

Kraglin snickers from his side of the table. "Sound scared to me. If Yondu could trust him to wire his fin into his skull, I'm sure ya can trust him not to fry ya with that little thingy-ma-bob."

Yondu, having heard his name while walking by, stops by the table. "What's going on here?"

"Rocket wants to electrocute us!"

"Do not!" Rocket defends. "Well, not much... I just want to settle which one of them is really tougher so they'll quit whining about it."

Yondu shakes his head, chuckling. He looks at you. "So you're really gonna give in and tell Peter he's tougher cuz yer scared of a little shock?"

You glare at him. You knew he was only trying to razz you up, but you couldn't help it. "I'm not scared, I-"

Peter cuts you off. "Then prove it." He was bluffing, he didn't really want to try either. Who in their right mind would willingly let Rocket hook them up to an electric shock machine?? But his poker-face was good. Too good.

"Ugh. Fine. If to only wipe that smug grin off your dumb face." you say, rolling your eyes. "How's it work?"

Rocket grinned, as did the other two. "Ok, so you each get two of these electrodes," He held up the white disk, "and you stick them to your stomach, and then I'll take this," he held up the Zune-looking thing, "and turn it up until one of you taps out."

You begrudgingly took the electrodes from Rocket and he clarified his instructions by telling you both to place them below your belly-button. You retake your seats at Rocket's behest, him cockily saying that you 'might want to sit down for this'.

"Ready?" he smirked.

You looked at Peter's cocky grin and rolled your eyes. "Sure."

Rocket turned the dial. Nothing happened, so you assumed it had only just switched the device on, but you did see Peter give a little jolt.

You turned your head to him and laughed. "What you jumpy for, Mister Cocky? He hasn't started yet."

"Yes I did."

You looked back at Rocket, confused. "What?"

"I did start it. It's on level 1 now."

You look at Peter. He confirms it's on. "You don't feel anything?" he asks. You shake your head.

Rocket give you an odd look and says he's turning it up to 2.

Peter jerks again, softly grunting. "Hey, how high does this go?"

Rocket answers that it goes up to 10, and Peter makes a face that makes it obvious he's regretting his life choices.

"Oh, I can feel it now," you say, your mouth twitching upward in a grin. "It kinda tickles."

"That doesn't seem right?" Rocket switches it off. "Switch your leads, I want to make sure there's not a short in the wires."

You and Peter do what's asked. As soon as Rocket sees all the leads are stuck down properly he cranks it up to 2 without warning.

Peter jerks forward and grabs the table with a grunt. "Dude! What the fuck! A warning would be nice!"

You, however, only start softly giggling with a, "Hey!"

Rocket scratches his head, and turns the knob to 2.5.

Peter squeezes his eyes shut and tries, but fails, to sit back up straight. You also close your eyes, but it's because you've brought a hand to press on your forehead as you lean back in your chair, still giggling.

As soon as Rocket turns the knob to 3, Peter taps out.

Rocket turns the device off and looks at you suspiciously before glancing at Yondu and Kraglin who only shrug in response. "I don't get it? That's not supposed to happen?" Rocket says looking his new device over.

"I'll have a go." says Kraglin. "I bet Pete's just being a baby."

This earns a chuckle from Yondu and an annoyed outburst from Peter, who challenges Yondu to do it with Kraglin if they're both so tough.

Smirking, Yondu actually agrees. You and Peter hand over your leads and Yondu and Kraglin put them on.

Rocket repeats the same process. He starts them out at 1, and neither react. He goes up to 2, and Kraglin winces like Peter had. Up to 3, and Kraglin grunts and starts to grip the table while Yondu only acknowledges he can feel it pinching, but from the look on his face you can tell he's just putting on a tough act.

Rocket turns it up to 4 and Yondu exhales out his nose while looking up at the ceiling. At 6 Kraglin taps out and Rocket turns the device off.

Yondu laughs and tells Peter, "Guess everyone here is tougher than you, boy." to which Peter calls bullshit, says he wasn't ready, and demands to go again, this time against Yondu.

Peter doesn't make it past 4, and you laugh at him, prompting him to glare at you and say, "You wouldn't make it past 4 either!"

You call his bet, laughing, "Guess I'd need to go up against Yondu or Krags then, because we know you sure can't."

Before Peter can retort the rest of the team has come over to see what the fuss is about.

Rocket explains that you're seeing who's the toughest, and this promptly makes Mantis and Groot, in their innocence, want to try. However, this is immediately shot down by Gamora, who says that any game, or whatever it was that you were doing, where you willfully electrocute yourself, was stupid.

Drax, however, says he'll have a go, and Peter jumps on this, telling you, "There you go! Go up against Drax. If you can outlast him I'll finally say you're tougher than me."

"Quill." Yondu says in a warning tone, the implication clear that he didn't think anyone could beat the behemoth and that he knew that Peter egging you on like that would only result in you pushing yourself too hard to prove him wrong and getting hurt.

"Relax, old man!" Peter turned to you with a smug grin. "You can take it, right?" Peter is really pushing his luck, but you agree, taking back your leads from Yondu, and Rocket instructing Drax what to do as he takes Peter's chair.

Once you were both settled Rocket made sure you were ready before turning the device up to 1, then after a moment 2, and after another moment 3, where you had left off before.

Drax was just sitting there unfazed, but you were giggling again like before, prompting Drax to ask you what was so funny.

"It tickles!" you say, covering your face again and giggling harder once Rocket announced he was turning it up to 4.

"I bet you're faking it just to mess with us." Peter grumbled at you as Gamora gave him a strange look.

They heard Mantis giggling and looked over to see Mantis pulling her hand away from your arm, her antennae glowing. "Nope. Not lying. I don't sense any feelings of deception."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense, but here's 5." Rocket said, turning the dial.

You jerked in your seat, drawing one foot up into your chair as you tilted your head back laughing, still covering your face with your hands. "Ok! Ok! Wait a minute!" you squeak.

"Are you saying you give up?" Peter said with a smirk. "Guess that means you can't say you're tougher than me."

You flip him off. "No! I didn't say that!" This makes Yondu chuckle. Like most of the rest of the team he had started grinning at your reactions. You may be being stubborn, but he supposed you being tickled was better than you being in pain, though by all accounts it didn't make sense. He had done it himself, and it most definitely didn't tickle.

"Well it's up to 5, you couldn't get past 4, Pete." Kraglin corrected, letting Peter know that you technically had just proved you were tougher by being able to go to a higher setting than him.

"That's not the deal we made. Besides, how can it count if it only tickles? The higher settings are bound to hurt." He knew his logic was flawed, but he was stubborn too, he wasn't just going to hand you a victory.

Seeing as you weren't giving up yet, Rocket went ahead and dialed it up to 6.

"How you doing Drax?" Kraglin asked.

Drax just shrugged. "Fine. It's not the most pleasant feeling, but it's completely bearable."

They didn't ask how you were doing. It was pretty clear how you were doing. You hadn't quit giggling this whole time, much to Rocket's frustration because it just didn't make sense. It was, however, the only thing keeping Gamora from making Rocket stop. She knew Drax could take almost anything, so he'd be fine. You didn't seem to be in pain at all, so she assumed you must be safe.

Rocket dialed up to 7.

Drax nodded his head. "There it is. I can feel it more now." However, there wasn't an ounce of pain etched into his face. Dude obviously had one hell of a pain tolerance.

You were still curled in your chair. One hand covered your mouth while you giggled, the other rested on your knee. You tried to psyche yourself up. It was only a tickle. You weren't a baby. You got this, right?

The foot that had been in your chair then slammed to the floor as you lurched forward with a shriek of laughter, gripping the metal armrest of your chair as your other hand wrapped around your middle.

"How can that still tickle!? It's turned up to 8!" Rocket questioned in disbelief, holding up the device to Yondu as if to prove it.

"Eight!?" you cry, "You were supposed to tell us, you rabid raccoon!"

Drax began to laugh as well and in disbelief Peter said, "Drax? Seriously?!"

"It doesn't tickle," Drax clarified, his laughter dying into a light chuckle. "It's just very funny to watch the smaller Terran react."

You attempted to glare at Drax for referring to you as the "smaller Terran," but failed at it. You stomped your foot on the ground as you felt the tickle get somehow worse, and knew Rocket had turned it up again. "Rocket! Please!" you whined, making a few of the others laugh. Maybe you don't got this.

"That one was for calling me a raccoon, asshat." Rocket said with a grin, his previous frustration seemingly gone in favor of mischief.

You quickly reach for the little shit, but you recoil as he jumped out of reach, a smug grin on his face as he turned the dial to the last setting.

"And that one was 'cause I can."

Drax barely reacted, but you were suffering.

Shit. Shit. Nothing had ever tickled like this before. You don't got this. You still had a death grip on the arm of the chair and you were laughing so hard you couldn't sit up straight. Screw the bet, time for begging. "Ok! Ok!" you squeal. "Rock-Rocket! Ahaha! Ok! I'm sorry! Please! I can't- I give up!"

Rocket and Peter laughed triumphantly as you continued to plead for mercy. Yondu had pity on you and chuckled saying, "Alright, Rat. That's enou-"

He was cut off by a metallic squeal and a snap that made everyone jump. The sound was only followed by the sounds of your dying laughter as you caught your breath.

You threw your leads up on the table, having had ripped them off when you couldn't take it anymore (and after having finally realized that was an option.) You finally look up at Rocket, still giggly and gasping for breath as you say, "Youhoo suck! Eheheh... you- you little brat... haha... Jeez..." Your eyes were glowing a bright blue that slowly faded as you raised an eyebrow, noting how your companions expressions have changed to something resembling "WTF??"

"What's with the faces?" you ask, only to follow Mantis's eyes down to the arm of your chair, or rather, what used to be the arm of your chair.

You had snapped it, but that wasn't all. It was now twisted both outward & downward and the place you had been gripping it had been crushed to form to the inside of your fist as if it had been made of foam board.

You hear someone hesitantly say, "Ya ain't Terran... are ya?"

You look back up at your friends' expectant faces with a nervous grin, squinting and blushing as you rub the back of your head. "Well, aha... This is awkward..."

#gotg #gotg imagine #x reader #peter quill #rocket raccoon #yondu udonta #kraglin obfonteri #fanfic #fanfiction #yondu lives #funny #fluff #fluffy fanfiction

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 15

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Missy gives her a skeptical glance as Mulder knocks on the door for an eternity in a strange pattern. She shrugs, then startles when a cacophony of loud pops and clicks erupts from the other side of the door before it swings open to reveal a short man with a receding hairline and bushy sideburns.

“Mulder, ladies, please come in!” he greets warmly, stepping to the side.

Mulder touches his hand to Scully’s lower back, ushering her inside and waiting as Missy follows before he enters last. The short man holds out his hand to Missy and when she takes it, he brings her hand to his lips and kisses the tops of her fingers.

“Enchante, you must be Melissa,” he says suavely, and Missy gives her sister an amused smile. “Melvin Frohike, pleased to meet you,” he finishes, and Missy giggles.

“And you must be the enigmatic Dana Scully,” he says, turning to Scully and offering his hand.

She takes it, but tugs hers away at the first indication that he intends to do more than shake it. Frohike turns to Mulder with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk.

“She’s hot,” he says matter-of-factly, and Scully looks at Mulder with big eyes, unsure whether he’ll find his friend’s flattery offensive.

“Yes, I’ve noticed. Put a damper on the Don Juan act would ya, Frohike? You’re going to scare them away.”

Frohike presses his hand to his chest in mock sincerity. “I aim only to properly welcome these beautiful women to our home, Mulder,” he defends, then holds up his hands in surrender. “Back to the kitchen I go,” he finishes, leaving the room.

A slender man with long blonde hair and glasses passes through, pausing when he realizes they have company.

“Mulder, hey man. I forgot you were coming by.”

He looks at Missy and Scully but doesn’t say anything.

“Langly, this is Dana, and her sister Melissa,” Mulder offers, and Langly waves, looking back and forth between them.

“So which one’s yours?” he asks, and Mulder mutters something under his breath.

“That would be me,” Scully answers, holding her hand up at her side. For the first time that she can recall, being referred to as belonging to a man doesn’t bother her.

“Cool,” he says, then turns away and sits down behind a computer.

Scully and Missy both look at Mulder expectantly, asking hundreds of questions with their eyes that they are too polite to speak aloud.

“I know, I know,” he says regretfully. “I told you, they grow on you.”

“Mulder, hello,” calls a new voice, and Scully turns to see a tall man in a suit with neatly coiffed brown hair and a matching goatee.

“Hello, ladies, I’m John Fitzgerald Byers,” he says, holding out his hand shaking each of theirs in turn. “I apologize for my friends’ behavior, they don’t get out much. Please, come in, make yourselves at home.”

As Byers leads them to the living room, Scully takes stock of what Mulder had referred to as their “lair.” There’s one large room that is sectioned off into a living area and a tech lab, the latter hosting several computers as well as hundreds of computer parts and boxes upon boxes with wires sticking out of them. There’s a kitchen just off the living room, and beyond that a long hallway that must lead to bedrooms. They sit down on a well-worn orange couch, Scully in the middle, while Byers takes an armchair next to the end of the couch where Missy is seated.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Byers asks, his eyes lingering on Missy for a beat.

“It’s margarita night!” Frohike calls from the kitchen, and Byers smiles meekly.

“We also have beer, or wine, if you don’t care for margaritas,” he offers demurely.

“I love margaritas,” Missy answers with a shrug, “so does Dana, right Sis?” she continues, giving Scully a little jab with her elbow, and Scully smiles and nods.

“Sure, margaritas sound great,” she says, and Byers looks visibly relieved.

“Please excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he says, standing with a slight bow.

After he has disappeared into the kitchen, Missy looks over at Scully and widens her eyes momentarily, then juts out her chin.

“Really?” Scully says with some measure of surprise, and Missy nods enthusiastically.

Mulder chuckles, and Scully looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?” she asks accusingly.

“You two have some kind of secret language. You sure you aren’t twins?”

“I remember when Dana was born,” Missy says, “it was awful. We are definitely NOT twins.”

“Missy, you were two when I was born, there’s no way you remember that,” Scully says doubtfully, and Missy rolls her eyes.

“Believe what you will, Sis, but I distinctly recall you crying for hours and Bill Jr. peeing his pants in protest,” she says confidently.

“That does sound like Bill,” Scully concedes, and they both laugh.

“Why do I get the impression that Bill isn’t the favorite sibling?” Mulder asks, and Scully rests her hand on his knee.

“Just be glad he doesn’t live close enough to attend Sunday brunch tomorrow,” she says with a squeeze, “if you’re lucky, you won’t have to meet him for years.”

Mulder smirks at her with soft, affectionate eyes. “Years, huh?” he asks, and Scully smiles as heat rises to her cheeks, realizing what she’d implied.

“Here we are,” Byers says as he re-enters the room carrying a tray with four glasses on it. He sets the tray on the coffee table and passes a glass to each of the sisters and then to Mulder before he takes one himself and sits down.

“What should we drink to?” Missy asks, holding her glass up.

“How about, to new friends,” Byers offers, giving her a small smile.

“To new friends,” Missy repeats, and they clink their glasses together.

———

“A WHAT tail?” Missy asks, her tongue thick with tequila and her eyes glassy.

“A ves- vesigible? Vestibule tail?” Mulder attempts, closing one eye in concentration.

“Vestigial tail,” Scully corrects them, retaining her medical terminology even under the influence of four very strong margaritas.

“Yes, that was it,” Byers says, pointing at her triumphantly.

Frohike drank too much and retired to his bedroom an hour ago, while Langly is still stationed behind his computer, headphones on and seemingly immersed in some kind of first person shooter game. Byers has shed his suit jacket and cuffed his sleeves, his tie loosened around his neck. He long ago joined them on the orange couch where they are now stuffed like sardines, the sisters sandwiched in the middle with a man on each side.

“Caudal appendages are a normal part of fetal development,” Scully says, her head leaning against Mulder’s arm and their hands entwined in his lap. “The coccyx enlarges to contain the spinal fluid and then it shrinks as the child develops. Occasionally it doesn’t. It’s extremely rare, but it’s been known to happen.”

“But that’s not the point,” Mulder retorts, sticking his nose into her hair. “The tail was just how they made the connection, the freaky deaky part is that this guy could change his appearance to look like the women’s husbands so they’d have sex with him.”

“That’s disgusting,” Missy says with a frown, and Byers puts his hand on her upper back, rubbing comfortingly. She looks at him and smiles sweetly.

“I don’t buy that at all,” Scully says, shaking her head clumsily.

“The shapeshifting?” Mulder asks, assuming the answer.

“Well that too, but even just the idea that they didn’t know it wasn’t their husband. They would have known,” she says plainly, it being an obvious fact to her.

“He was physically identical to their husbands, there was no way to tell the difference,” Byers explains, looking at the side of Missy’s face while he talks.

“Well maybe he looked like them, but partnered sex is very routine based,” Scully continues, “if you’re with the same person for a long time, you develop somewhat of a cadence, an order of things, that there’s no way he could have replicated. So even if he was physically identical to the husbands, he would have kissed differently, touched them differently. They would have noticed the difference.”

Mulder sits back against the arm rest so he can see her face more clearly.

“So you’re telling me that if a man who looked exactly like me in every way, physically identical, tried to seduce you, you’d know it wasn’t me?”

Scully gives him an irritated look. “Yes.”

“How?” he asks incredulously.

“Because no one else kisses like you do,” she says at a lower register, hoping Missy and Byers aren’t listening.

Mulder looks past her to the other end of the couch and his eyebrows lift in surprise, his mouth curling into an amused smile. Scully turns to see what he’s smiling at and finds that Missy and Byers most definitely were not listening, because they currently have their tongues halfway down each other’s throats. Scully turns back to Mulder with an open-mouthed smile.

“Oh my god,” she gushes, leaning her forehead against his chest.

He wraps his arms around her back and gives her a squeeze.

“I was just about to say we should get outta here,” Mulder whispers against her ear, “but I’d hate to interrupt them. I think this is the most action Byers has gotten in years.”

She stifles her laugh in his T-shirt, then sits up to look at him.

“Is he a good guy?” she questions in a bit of sisterly concern.

“Oh, yes, the best,” Mulder says emphatically. “If it were either of the other two stooges down there I’d pry Missy off of him and transport her to safety, but Byers is good people.”

Scully nods in approval, sneaking another glance towards the lovebirds as Missy’s foot starts to press against her thigh; they seem to be orienting more horizontally by the second. She glances over at Langly, but he’s oblivious.

“Do you think it’s okay if we leave her here?” Mulder asks cautiously, unsure if it’s an obscene suggestion.

Scully looks at her sister again. “Missy, we’re leaving,” she says loudly, and Missy holds up her arm, flicking her wrist in a “go” motion. Scully turns back to Mulder. “She’s fine.”

Mulder lives closer to the Gunmen so they direct the cab driver there, quietly kissing in the backseat on the ten minute drive. She is pleasantly drunk, just this side of sloppy, and feeling particularly amorous after such a fun evening. Mulder stumbles through his front door ahead of her, swearing as he stubs his toe on the table. He feeds Priscilla as Scully removes her shoes and jacket, making her way to the couch. As soon as he sits down beside her, he leans over and presses his boozy lips against hers, the kiss firm and insistent and...weird.

“Mulder,” she says as he continues to plant strange kisses on her mouth, “what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, moving his pecking down her neck.

“You’re kissing me weird,” she says flatly, and he lifts his head to give her a shocked look.

“Motherfucker,” he says in a disappointed tone, and she shoves his shoulder.

“I told you I would know, jerk,” she says playfully, and he laughs.

“I guess you would,” he says, starting to kiss her more properly.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?” she suggests, and he stands, holding his hand out to her.

She leads him into the bedroom, and as she approaches the bed he grabs her roughly from behind, clutching her to him. She gasps at the sudden contact, but it also excites her.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice gravelly.

She nods her head tersely, wanting to see where he’s going to take it.

He growls and sticks his hand down the front of her still-buttoned jeans, forcing his fingers under her panties until he meets with her vulva. Keeping his fingers still, he slips his other hand under her shirt, shoving it under the underwire on her bra and grasping her breast roughly. Her heart is racing but she doesn’t move.

“Unbutton your pants,” he says levelly, and the authoritative tone in his voice sends a little rush between her thighs. She does as he said, unbuttoning her jeans and pushing them off her hips while his hand is still tucked against her.

With more room to move, he slips his hand down further and drags his fingers lazily over her lips. She can feel herself growing wet, her clit aching to be touched. He suddenly removes both hands, grabbing the hem of her shirt and tugging it over her head before she’s even had time to lift her arms, her bra soon following it to the floor. He steps forward, pushing her along with him, and then touches her upper back.

“Bend over,” he says, and she does, her torso resting on the mattress while her legs dangle over the side.

She feels him tug her jeans off her legs, and then her panties, leaving her nude. She waits, her heart pounding in her ears nearly blocking out the jangle of his belt buckle and the slide of his zipper. She feels his naked skin press against hers, his erection stiff and hot against her lower back. He leans forward to put his mouth to her ear.

“Still okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” she says breathily.

She hears the crinkle of the condom wrapper and wriggles her hips in anticipation, nearly moaning when his hands touch her bare hips, tugging her towards him. She feels the slick press of his latex-covered cock against her entrance and bucks back towards him, earning a little chuckle. He pushes into her, each groaning with relief, and wastes no time finding a hard and fast pace, the slap of skin deafening in the quiet apartment. He changes his angle, and she feels his hand snake around her hip, his touch rough and firm and perfectly paired with the strike of his head against her cervix on each upstroke. It hurts just a little bit, but in the best kind of way, and she cries out when he finds just the right combination, begging him not to stop.

A stream of obscenities, foul and offensive remarks about how she feels and looks, what he’s doing to her, pour from his lips and she is concurrently shocked and delighted, finding herself at the crest as he asks her how much she likes it, and calls her some questionable names. She comes hard and suddenly, the obscenities stopping as he explodes inside of her, falling partially on top of her as he loses the strength to stand.

After he’s extricated himself from the bed and disposed of the condom, he pulls her on top of him and peppers her with tender little kisses and gentle strokes of his hands over her naked body, telling her how beautiful and perfect she is, bringing them back to equilibrium. She props her chin on his chest and looks up at him with a wry smile.

“What did you call me?” she asks, and he does a silly cartoonish cringe.

“I’m not totally sure, to be honest. Did I say something bad?” he asks with genuine concern.

“I’m not totally sure, to be honest,” she replies, “I was otherwise engaged.” She smiles at him so he knows she’s not mad. She looks over at the clock beside his bed. “We better go to sleep,” she says, her eyes already drooping. “We have to be at my mother’s at ten tomorrow.”

———

“So, what did you all do last night?” Maggie asks around the lunch table, and Dana chokes on her water while Missy clears her throat.

“I introduced Dana to some of my friends,” Mulder answers jovially, on his best ‘meet the parents’ behavior.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Maggie answers warmly. “Are you from the area, Fox?”

“It’s Mulder, Mom,” Dana corrects her, and he waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s okay, moms get a free pass,” he says, smiling at Maggie. “I grew up on Martha’s Vineyard.”

“Ooooo, fancy schmancy,” Charlie remarks with raised eyebrows, and Dana glares at him.

“Do you have any siblings?” Maggie continues.

This is a line of questioning he’s had to navigate since he was twelve, but for Dana it’s a first. She tightens her grip on his hand under the table.

“It’s okay,” he whispers to her before turning back to Maggie. “I had a younger sister, but she died when I was twelve.”

Scully understands that this is probably his stock answer, not wanting to get into the true story with each person he crosses paths with, and feels retroactively touched that he was honest with her from the start.

Maggie’s hand goes to her chest as though reaching for a rosary, her face a mask of pain. “Oh, Fox, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Mrs. Scully, it was a long time ago.”

Sensing the need for a subject change, Charlie turns to his oldest sister. “What’s up with you, Missy? You’re looking a little rough today.”

She gives him a derisive smile. “Thanks, little brother, love you too. I just didn’t get much sleep, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh,” Charlie says knowingly, and Missy kicks him under the table.

After the dishes have been cleared, Maggie is pulling the trash bag out of the can when Mulder interjects. “Let me take that out for you, Mrs. Scully.”

She watches him with a soft smile as he goes out the back door, then turns to look at her youngest daughter, who is also watching after him with an affectionate expression.

“Dana,” she calls, and when she has her daughter’s attention, she gives her a beaming smile. They don’t need to say more than that; Dana smiles back with a little nod, and they both understand that she’s found something worth moving on to.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 3 years

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BTS DRABBLE

@gemad08 (I hope it was you who requested this! I can’t remember!): Reader listens to another group’s music and her BTS boyfriends all have very different feelings about that.

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Fluff, Request, Ask, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Kim seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook, OT7, boyfriend AU

Genre: Fluff

Title: Playlist

KIM SEOKJIN

“What are you listening to?” Questions Jungkook curiously, as he plops down on the sofa beside you, removing his inner ear piece and reaching up to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

You pull out one of your own headphones and offer him a slight smile, readjusting the homework you had been working on on your lap. “Oh you know, this and that.”

Jungkook nods, reaching across you to snag an unopened water bottle from the table, before he gulps down almost half of it in one swell swoop. “Yeah, my playlists tend to be a little bit of everything too.”

The couch dips under Jin’s weight as your boyfriend arrives and settles down on your other side, his own hair damp with exertion, as he glances over at you with one eyebrow arched in a look of slight teasing, reaching for your dangling headphone, “It better be our stuff, jagi, or I’ll question your loyalty as a girlfriend.”

You open your mouth, but before you can respond, he places the headphone in his ear, and you watch as his eyes widen and his lips purse into a comical pout that has you holding back laughter.

“Yah, jagi!” Jin exclaims, ripping the headphones out of both of your ears, as he stares you down with a look akin to dramatic hurt and betrayal. “You’re listening to WinnerWinner?!”

You offer him a sheepish smile, before sticking your tongue out and putting the headphones back in your ears, though you don’t miss the sound of Jungkook laughing over the beats of your music.

“I like their stuff.” You protest, pointing to the homework in your lap. “It’s good study music. Helps me focus.”

“And our stuff can’t??” Jin complains in an incredulous voice, mouth still drawn into a deeper pout than before if possible. “Our stuff is great for studying! Take Moon for example, or Epiphany!”

“That’s your stuff.” You tease back gently, before leaning over to press a kiss to his full, plump, still pouting lips. “Besides, you don’t need to be jealous. You’re the only one I kiss after all.”

You grin at him, as he harumphs and throws an arm grumpily across your shoulders, tugging your body against his own. “I better be.” He whines out, as both you and Jungkook laugh once more.

MIN YOONGI

“Yoongi, how much longer?” You whine from your position on the futon in his studio, feet kicking loosely in the air, head dangling upside down from one of the arms, as you adjust your headphones in your ear. “I’m hungry.”

“All right, all right.” Your boyfriend grumbles, shutting off the screen of his computer, and getting up to cross the room to you. He flicks the crown of your head, making you yelp and sit upright again, as he sinks into the cushions beside you. “What’re you listening to anyway?”

You offer him the free headphone willingly, and he puts it to his ear, face immediately pulling into a look of distaste at the sounds of Zico’s smooth rap coming through the speakers.

“Why are you listening to this shit?” Yoongi asks, pulling the headphone from his ear as quickly as he had placed it there, shooting you a sharp look of disapproval.

“I like it.” You pull your own headphone loose and shoot him a glare in return, voice defensive as you begin to coil up the wire and shove it into your purse. “It’s catchy.”

“Really?” Yoongi looks at you with a stare of disbelief, and you feel your cheeks heat up, as if he’s caught you red handed doing something you shouldn’t. “Who taught you what was good music?”

“Myself.” You sniff, though you can’t stay mad at him, because the look of utter confusion and absolute pure surprise on his face at your music choices has you wanting to bust into giggles.

“That stuff is crap.” Yoongi stands from the couch and waves a hand at your phone, motioning to your music taste as a whole. He cocks his head as he looks down at you, and the hint of a superior smirk begins to lift his lips, as he says firmly, “I guess I need to educate you on what’s good music, baby. I didn’t know you were so naive.”

You scoff and stick your tongue out at him, as he whirls his desk chair around and motions for you to sit.

“But what about food?” You complain, stomach still grumbling hungrily as you take a seat, Yoongi reaching around you to turn on the computer.

“I’ll get delivery.” He says nonchalantly, clicking into a folder on the desktop. “This is much more important.”

You sigh in defeat and lean back. “How many of these songs are gonna be your own, Min Yoongi?” You ask suspiciously, looking up at him standing over you, as he offers you the hint of a smile and presses a kiss to your upturned forehead.

“I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.” He teases, before hitting play.

JUNG HOSEOK

“Everything I need is on the ground-”

You sing along to the lyrics of the song that is blasting from the speakers underneath your breath, as you continue your sweeping circle of the kitchen, doing little skip hops to the beat of the music when it tickles your fancy.

You’re feeling good.

You’re done with work for the week, you’re pretty sure you’re getting delivery for dinner tonight instead of cooking, and your boyfriend should be home any minute from the studio.

Not to mention, Rose’s new song is kicking.

Speak of the devil.

Just as you’re glancing at the clock, the sound of a lock is heard in the front door and Hobi bursts into the apartment, face bright and red from practice, hair slicked back with sweat that has long since dried, ankles ringed in old, but extremely comfortable tennis shoes.

“Hey jagi!” He calls, loud voice sounding clear even over the loud music, as he dumps his duffle bag onto the couch and kicks his shoes to the side, before entering the kitchen where you’re just emptying the last dustpan of debris into the trash.

He circles his arms around your waist and gives you a blinding sunshine smile, before peppering your face with kisses that make you laugh until you’re out of breath.

“I missed you.” He says in your ear, and you giggle, as his lips find another place to plant a kiss beneath the juncture of your jaw.

“You’d think you hadn’t just seen me this morning, Jung Hoseok.” You berate teasingly, covering his hands at your waist with your own, as you turn in his arms to face him. Reaching up to push loose strands of dark hair from his forehead, you ask with a tilt of your head, “Wanna order in tonight?”

“Yes please!” Hobi’s eyes light up at the thought of delivery and cuddling and a night spent in with you, and then they widen slightly, as he tilts his head, as if listening, to the repeating song that is still blaring over the sound system for the first time. “Is this Rose’s new one?” He asks, and you can hear the excitement in his tone.

You nod, and before you can say anything, he is sweeping you around in circles to the beat of the newly started song, making you laugh once more, before he calls out, “I love this song! It’s so damn catchy!”

“I can tell.” You say through your laughter, as he releases you on a spin and begins to do a little impromptu solo dance around the clean kitchen.

“Is it on repeat?” Hobi asks, cha cha-ing real smooth over to you, before he takes your hands once more.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Great.” He grins, and the sunshine between his teeth is blinding, as he pulls you into another goofy spin. “Keep it going all night.”

KIM NAMJOON

Namjoon slides into the passenger seat, and you lean over to turn the music down-having turned it up to listen to it loudly with the windows down while you drove-and open your mouth to ask him about his day.

He beats you to it though, catching you off guard, as he eyes the name of the song on the car display curiously. “You’re listening to Jackson’s stuff?”

You blush, feeling embarrassed for some stupid reason, and turn the song almost off, as you reach to put the car into gear. “Yes? I really like his new album.”

“That’s good.” Namjoon says softly, almost as if he’s thinking, as he stares out the car window as you pull out of the studio’s parking lot. “He’ll be happy to hear that.”

You drive in silence for a bit, and you’re wondering if you’re imagining the sudden weird air between you and your boyfriend. Maybe it’s just you? It’s gotta be in your head, right?

You glance at Namjoon out of the corner of your eye, and you note he looks tired. As you turn onto the main road, you ask gently, “Everything go okay today?”

“Hmmm?” Namjoon questions beneath his breath, glancing over at you, as if you have pulled him from his thoughts. He offers you the hint of a smile. “Oh, yeah! Everything was fine. Super busy. Like it always is.”

You nod, tightening and loosening your fingers on the steering wheel, as silence once again prevails.

Why is this weird. Was it because of the music?

You glance at the display, and see another one of Jackson’s songs scrolling across the heading.

Was it weird to listen to your boyfriend’s best friend’s music? Was that some sort of faux pas you weren’t aware of?

Shit.

“Namjoon-” You start to say, and when he looks at you, you force yourself to swallow and keep going. “Does it upset you if I listen to Jackson’s stuff? If so, I’ll stop-”

“What?” Namjoon looks startled, catching you off guard, and his eyes widen as he stares at you. “Why would that upset me?”

“I dunno.” You shrug, suddenly feeling sheepish that you had made this into a deal at all. “I just didn’t know-”

“Baby.” Namjoon leans across the center console, his large, warm palm going to rest on your thigh, as his whole face suddenly breaks out into an amused grin. “You can listen to whoever you want. I don’t care.” He winks at you. “And I was being serious about Jackson being excited to hear you like his stuff. Hell, I like his stuff.”

“Why were you so quiet then?” You ask, relieved, yet not being able to stop yourself now.

“Oh.” Namjoon settles back into his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, as his fingers start to stroke lazy patterns across the jean covered skin of your thigh. He cracks an eye open and shoots you a mischievous grin. “I was just contemplating all of the shit I can show you now that I know you like Jackson’s music. There’s so much in his vault that hasn’t been released to the public that I have access to.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Really?”

Namjoon closed his eyes once more, but not before shooting you another wink. “Really. Buckle up, baby. If you want Jackson Wang, I’ll give you Jackson Wang.”

PARK JIMIN

“Jimin, this is so stupid.” You huff out, as you try to jump two stairs at a time, keeping up with your boyfriend as he doggedly works his way upward.

Damn. For a short guy, he’s really fast.

“Is it?” Jimin asks over his shoulder sharply, not looking at you, as you finally reach the floor that houses the building’s gym and push through the door. He holds it open for you, even though he’s mad, and you’re glad he’s not angry enough to have forgotten the habit. That bodes well.

“Yeah, it is.” You snap back, reaching up to wipe some sweat from the back of your neck,as you adjust your dangling headphones. Why did you agree to work out with him. You should have known better. The walk up the five flights of stairs had been enough. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Hmmm okay.” Jimin hums out mockingly, already headed for the treadmill, as he raises the incline and stretches his ankles, shooting you a heated glare. “Fine. So you won’t mind if I start religiously listening to Girl’s Generation.”

“No?” You pose it as a question, because the idea of that upsetting you just doesn’t compute into your head.

“See, it doesn’t make sense to you, because you’re not an artist.” Jimin complains, sliding his own headphones into his ears as he turns on the treadmill and starts into a brisk jog.

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and head to the elliptical, as far from your moody boyfriend as you can go.

There is nothing but silence and the sound of breathing and the machines, until Jungkook comes into through the door minutes later, towel slung around his neck, curls already damp with sweat, and you just know he has already been doing some insane pre-workout before his actual workout.

Crazy bastard.

“Hey, (Y/N)!’ Jungkook calls out cheerfully, with a bunny grin and a wave of his hand in your direction.

“She probably can’t hear you. She’s listening to her favorite band.” Jimin snarks in before you can answer his friend, face dark as he continues to sprint through the workout on the treadmill.

Jungkook looks curiously between the two of you, and you stop what you’re doing, letting out an irritated sigh.

“Jungkook, tell Jimin this is stupid.” You say, standing and stretching your arms above your head, as you stick your tongue out at your still grumpy boyfriend. “He’s upset because he found out I like listening to GOT7 more than your stuff, and now he’s throwing a jealousy tantrum.”

“I am not!” Jimin yanks the headphones out of his ears and points in your direction, past the bewildered Jungkook who stands in the middle of you two. “You told me, and I quote ‘It’s weird to listen to your stuff, because you’re my boyfriend.’“

“Well it is!” You shout back, cheeks red, whether from the exercise or the heat of the stupid, teasing argument that had gotten well out of hand.

“Okay, you guys are both being stupid.” Jungkook steps in, holding his hands out as a peace offering between your two heaving chests, as if worried you’re going to come to blows. He glances over at Jimin. “Jimin, your girlfriend can listen to anyone she wants. She’s not your property. You tend to get jealousy, but you don’t need to, because you should know how crazy in love with you she is.”

He glances over to you next, face stern, and you already feel your heart calming in your chest at his words, and Jimin must feel the same, because he doesn’t look quite as riled as before.

“And (Y/N), just because you’re dating an idol doesn’t mean that you have to listen to their music. But try to be a little more sympathetic yeah? We work hard on our shit, and you gotta take into account how Jimin feels.”

You sigh, and glance across the wise younger boy to Jimin, who looks slightly remorseful now. “Fine.” You sigh out, reaching out to offer him a hand. He shakes it, twining his fingers with yours at the last minute. “I’ll try to broaden my perspective.”

“And I’ll try to tone down the jealousy.” Jimin concedes, finally offering you the hint of a smile as his full lips curl upward.

“However.” You shake a finger at the two boys. “I’m not listening to, or watching, or ever liking, Go Go. And you can’t make me.”

They groan, and you laugh before pulling the two of them into a hug.

KIM TAEHYUNG

“Hey jagi, have you seen my-”

You glance up as your boyfriend comes into the room, his words stuttering to a stop as he pauses in the doorway to stare at you, lacing up your nikes by the front door.

“What?” You ask, slightly self consciously, as you glance down at the running outfit you wear-athletic shorts and a sheer tank top covering a brightly colored sports bra, complete with dangling earphones and comfy running shoes-wondering what he’s staring at.

“Nothing.” Taehyung shakes his head, a sly smile coming across his features, as he creeps across the room as if he’s stalking you, before grabbing you around the waist and crushing you to him, lips going to your ear and voice low. “You just look good enough to eat, that’s all.”

You blush and bat at him, but he doesn’t release you. “Stop. You’re so gross.”

“I can’t help it that my girlfriend is super hot.” He drags his lips up the curve of your neck in a line of sloppy kisses, making you laugh and try to pull away from him once more. “You know the only reason I go running with you is so I can watch your ass in those short shorts.” He slaps his hand across said ass, and you yelp.

“Will you quit?” You swat him away again, more aggressively this time, as he finally releases his hold on your waist, but doesn’t pull away from you, as he grabs one of your headphones and holds it up to his ear.

“What’s your running playlist?” Taehyung asks curiously, and you grin, pushing play on the first song. He furrows his brows and shakes his head, motioning to you. “Mmmm nope. Next.”

You skip forward to the next song, and suddenly, his eyes are going wide and his mouth is forming an o and an overly manic excited look is entering his normal expression.

You glance down at the song name and instantly see why.

“Holy shit, I love this song.” Taehyung exclaims, wiggling his body to the sound of gangnam style and Psy’s upbeat vocals.

“I know.” You laugh, before he shoves the headphones back into your hand, catching you by surprise, as he darts past you back the way he had came. “What are you doing??”

“I gotta get my kazoo.” Taehyung calls over his shoulder, then stops in his tracks, glancing back at where you still stand in place. “Actually, on second thought.” He retreats on fast steps and grabs your hand, dragging you along with him toward the office, ignoring your weak protests. “You better come along. I’m about to blow your mind. I can play this song on both kazoo and keyboard.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

Jungkook’s brow is furrowed, his normally caramel eyes dark, lips set into a thin line, and you know. You know that look.

He’s getting competitive.

They don’t call him the golden maknae for nothing, right?

“Jungkook.” You say in a warning tone, already knowing where his mind is going.

“There’s no way.” Jungkook huffs out, pulling the headset from off his ears as he shoots you a look of utter fire, eyes hard and set. “There’s no way they’re better than us.”

You sigh, and the sound is slightly amused and slightly exasperated. “Kook, I didn’t say they were better than you-”

“Then why listen to them?” He cuts you off, throwing the headset aside and rising to pace the room, before he comes back to stand behind the couch, fingers clenched around the back cushion as he stares into the distance.

“I like their music?” You offer helplessly, as you watch him spiral into that competitive frame of mind that you find halfway hot as hell and halfway infuriating as all get out.

“You really think they’re better than us?” Jungkook asks, interrupting you, as if he hadn’t just heard a word of the answer you had offered. He glances down at you, eyes dark beneath the fringe of his long hair, long hair that’s getting slightly out of control and is fringing on tangled mess of curls. “Why are they better? how are they better?” He mutters to himself, eyes focusing on something far away, as he continues on in disbelief. “Oneus? Really?”

You roll you eyes and push yourself up from the couch, circling around to stand behind him, sliding your hands around his narrow waist, allowing yourself to feel the muscles of his abdomen beneath his sweatshirt before you finally speak. “Kookie, can you not. Just this once. Please.”

“Not what?” He asks, suddenly curious, as he glances back at you, doe eyes wide, as if he’s not even aware of what he’s doing.

“Not compete?” You ask with slight amusement, brows raised in pleading in your boyfriend’s tense direction.

His shoulders relax slightly, and he turns to face you, returning your embrace, his chin resting comfortably on the crown of your head. “Sorry, jagi. Habit.”

“You wanna be the best, I get it.” You hum back, leaning back to connect your lips with his, as the hint of smile starts across your face. “However.” You reach up to push the hair back from his forehead, admiring his handsome, flawless features as he stares down at you. “To me, no one will ever be better than you, Jeon Jungkook.”

His features soften, and he offers you the bunny smile you love so much. “Really?”

“Really.” You grin in return, and reach up to tap the end of his nose with your finger before leaning in to give him another quick kiss. “You’re the best there is.”

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fragileizywriting · 3 years

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the stars are nothing (compared to your constellations of freckles)

pairing: Adrien / Marinette word count: 7,521 chapter: 1/1 rating: G summary: “I used to have a huge— huge— crush on you when we were younger. She took hold of it and has been running with the idea that we’re perfect for each other ever since then.” Adrien nearly choked on his drink. “Really?” “It was embarrassing.” Marinette placed the cup down and rubbed her fingers together for warmth. “B-but trust me, the crush is gone now, don’t worry.” “G-gone?” Was the sky spinning, or was he just seeing things? Was he melting? Even while sitting, he felt like the world had been pulled out from underneath him. She used to have a crush on him. She used to have a crush on him. Only to give it up so she could— so she could— Date Chat Noir. Date him. His breath crumbled in his lungs, suffocating and painful in the cold air. AO3 link

He heard her first before actually seeing her. His back turned to their tent in the cool, chilly night— he knew just by the sound of her voice she had tucked herself into her knitted cap, and layered long sleeves to keep the cold air from permeating into her skin. “Oh— Hi, Adrien.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No, no. Just— just looking for something to do for a little while. Couldn’t fall asleep?”

He poked a bit at the firepit with a metal prong, watching the flames lick the sides of the sticks he’d put inside the bowl the way Nino had taught him to do. He sat back onto his little floor cushion, turning just so to catch a hint of Marinette’s pink lips pulled into a shy smile as she zipped the tent behind her closed.

He shook his head, warm in the chest as Marinette pulled out another cushion from the small laundry bag they had brought to store them in, and she sat close to the fire. Close enough for him to wrap his arms around her, if he were any bolder, or if he was any less terrified. “Not yet. Nino is moving too much, and I can’t find his phone to stop the music blaring from his headphones— I’d follow the wire, but they’re bluetooth. He’s going to go deaf in his sleep one day from how loud it is.”

Her laughter filled him to the brim with warmth, and he couldn’t stop himself from letting his own smile form.

“What about you? What are you doing out here instead of sleeping?”

She laughed to herself, rubbing her hands together, trying to keep herself warm. He wished he could reach over to her and warm them for her— but he was nothing more than a stranger to her. He turned his attention back to the fire to keep himself from acting on impulse. “Oh— well— It’s embarrassing to admit, really.”

He smiled into the collar of his sweater. “Try me.”

Always up for a challenge, Marinette’s eyes sparkled as she took his bait. “I move a lot in my sleep, too. I’m a hugger.”

“Oh really?” Adrien wanted nothing more than to tell her that he knew exactly that. He knew what Marinette looked like tucked under his chin, arms somehow making it to his hair and petting behind the ears. The sweet smell of milk soap on her skin making up for the headbutts he’d get as she tossed and turned in his arms. The way to only manage to get her to hold still for even a brief period of time was to sleep on top of her, blanketing her in his own weight.

He knew that she hated his fake snoring. He wasn’t sure if he did it for some backwards irony to make up for the lack of sleep he always got, but he loved the sweet and generous laughter he got out of her from it.

He knew that her laughter was contagious past nine at night— where her smile would take form into one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen, where her eyes would twinkle like stars.

He knew that when she finally did sleep, and finally did stop moving for the night, her weight was comforting on him— assuming that somehow she’d flipped their positions throughout the night to rest her head on the space on his shoulder. She’d always complained about the sleekness of his hexleather costume and how it was impossible for her to feel comfortable without slipping off, and yet she fell asleep for hours on him without having her head slip off him uncomfortably.

He knew that her hair tickled his nose when she slept, and that he only slept well when he could smell the easy scent of her shampoo pressed up against him.

And he knew that Marinette only slept well when she could press the meat of her palm on the space just below his clavicle, letting her hand rest where his chest rose and fell.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a total annoyance— Alya hates it— she feels claustrophobic whenever she sleeps near me, so I’m letting her get some sleep before I head back in.” Marinette sat back, humor lining her own voice, completely oblivious to the way Adrien was buzzing in his seat with yearning— wishing to the point it hurt to just reach out to her and kiss her. “How long have you been out here for?”

“I’m not sure. An hour, I think?” Adrien poked at the fire again, flipping one of the sticks over to the other side and watching the fresh bark crumble and burn. Ever since they’d tucked in for the night, he hadn’t been able to sleep. It’d been a long while since he had to sleep without Marinette with him, and the experience was foreign.

His hands had gravitated so much towards the other heat source in bed— Nino— looking for a hand to hold or someone’s neck to nuzzle. He’d nearly pulled Nino onto him like he was used to doing with Marinette— and while he was sure Nino wouldn’t mind, Adrien had left the tent before it had gotten embarrassing. He missed her warmth.

He didn’t know heartache could be so strong.

Marinette fiddled with her phone, swiping through her conversation on her apps, waiting for the circle bar to finish loading and refresh for new messages. Nothing. Adrien tried not to pay attention to what was on her phone— he was just a friend, she didn’t know him— but he couldn’t help himself watch her refresh their conversation over and over again on a blackened messenger app, lilac pink chat bubbles jumping back and forth on her screen with every refresh.

Waiting for a response from him.

Him.

Chat Noir him.

But not Adrien him.

She sighed to herself, biting her bottom lip, accepting the lack of internet. “I guess there’s no signal out here?”

“I tried sending out a couple of messages already,” He nodded, admitting to her face that he had tried to respond. She didn’t know he was referring to that— was it obvious in his eyes at how much he wished he could say it to her? “Nothing— uhm— nothing went through.”

They break eye contact after a moment.

His heart felt heavy.

“Oh, wow. The service here must be a lot worse than I thought. I hope we don’t need to contact anyone this weekend, or anything like that.” Marinette crossed her legs in front of her, wiping her palms on her pajama pants. Chat Noir paw-prints dotted all on the legs— a gift from him last christmas. He’d bought it off of the original fan merch website after spending a while looking for what to get her. She’d laughed about it, given Chat Noir a glare that had dissolved into laughter as he had opened his own gift and confetti had ruptured out of the small box.

He loved the bed slippers she had given him, and always made sure to hide it away under his bed or in his closet whenever his friends came over.

It wasn’t a gift for Adrien. Because it wasn’t for this half of him.

It was a gift for Chat Noir— and he made sure to keep it away from his civilian friends. The mint green color for the bunnies was incredibly endearing.

She wore her own gift for laughs sometimes, always finding it incredibly humorous that he’d gone out and bought his own merch. He always made sure to pepper her face with kisses every time she wore it, telling her that she looked like she was his biggest fan. It never failed to make her laugh to the point of losing her breath.

Adrien never felt so far away from her than sitting right next to her in front of the fire.

It made him want to cry that Marinette had put it on willingly, unknowing that he was here, most likely for the simple reason to have a bit of him with her while she left the city for the weekend. Adrien blushed to himself, staring away from Marinette’s hands, who he’d gotten entranced to looking at the way they moved. He wished he could hold her hand. His voice felt weak. “W-well I’m sure we won’t need to call anyone for a while. We brought enough food to last for a week, Nino’s decision. If we hike up more of the mountain tomorrow, we’ll probably have more signal.”

A private smile filtered to her face, one that he shouldn’t be able to read. But he knew everything about Marinette now. She was excited to have service. She wanted to text him. She curled her legs in closer to her, holding herself tight, resting her forehead and tired eyes on her knees. The small lock of hair that escaped her cap fell from her shoulder, spilling softly onto her collarbone.

Adrien tried not to stare, the words he so desperately wanted to say and had practiced for the entire night getting stuck at the edge of his throat. He— he couldn’t do it.

Coward. Coward.

Marinette would hate him, wouldn’t she? She’d trusted her entire life with Chat Noir— but he was a nobody to her when he was Adrien. What chance did he have to ruin her trust like that, and hope that it turned out okay?

“I won’t be able to send a goodnight text tonight. I hope… I hope that’s okay.” Marinette murmured to herself, speaking into her knees. Adrien wondered if she missed him as much as he missed her— regardless of her being right next to him.

He wondered if he’d be able to tell her the truth like he had planned to. His mouth refused to move, his tongue pretending to be made out of cement. He’d fought countless of Akumas, stared at death hundreds of times— he faulters now. Here. An entire galaxy and universe between them, even as they’re just centimeters away from each other.

He pretended not to hear her, favoring on bringing the subject back to the cold. He poked a bit more at the fire, letting a fresh new stick fall into the pit, enjoying the way the flame licked the surface. “Hey, I think there’s hot chocolate left in the container from dinner. Do you want to share the rest of it?”

“Oh, that’s a great idea. Let me go find it. It’s in the cooler, right?” The fire coated her cheeks rosy pink. She’d gotten so much better at communicating with Adrien him the last two years ever since Chat Noir him had shown up at her doorstep— and while she was finally able to maintain eye contact with Adrien without squeaking, she was always outspoken with him whenever he was covered in hexleather as Chat Noir— always so opinionated and passionate. Adrien couldn’t help himself by falling in love. Smitten as a kitten.

Marinette would’ve loved that pun. He wished he could tell her it.

Just three words. Just three words. All he had to do was just say three words.

He poked at the fire listlessly, trying to hype himself up to tell her the truth. She deserved to know. She deserved to know that it was him. The boy who showed up at her door every night was nothing more than her classmate that she had managed to finally stop sputtering in front of. He wanted to tell her that he loved her outside of his suit— he wanted to tell her that he wanted to be with her always, hexleather or genuine skin— he wanted to fall asleep with her tucked underneath his chin every day for the rest of his life.

He continued to poke at the fire with his prong. He couldn’t tell her.

Marinette found her way back over to him and she pushed her floor pillow closer to him with a foot, trying to balance her phone in one hand and the camping insulation bottle in the other. Her smile shy, she sat down before she had even made up her mind. Adrien tried not to scare her off.

She passed him a cup, and Adrien wept on the inside at their fingertips touching each other. Why was he such a coward? Why couldn’t he turn to her and tell her— “Adrien? Everything okay?”

“Sorry,” He dropped the metal fire poker in his hand, leaning forward to give her better attention. She held the hot chocolate bottle in between two mittened hands, smile soft and curious on her face. He tried not to dissolve into a blush, cursing himself for letting his thoughts run away without him. He bit the inside of his cheek as she poured his drink for him, the sound of the fire crackling and hissing loud against the silence of their breaths.

He hadn’t been joking when he had said that Nino’s music had been too loud. Even when Adrien had originally gotten over trying to cuddle with Nino under the covers, the music blasting in his headphones was enough to wake Adrien up from the edge of sleep. Leaning back against the fallen log, cradling the cup of hot chocolate in his hands and looking into the fire, Adrien reasoned that he could fall asleep in the position he was in. He was sure his back would protest the hike they would go on the following day if he did, but at least he wouldn’t be waking up to his hand searching for body warmth.

“I feel kind of bad for the both of them.” Marinette pulled her legs up to put her chin on, hugging her knees with her arms.

“Who?” Adrien took a sip out of his cup. Lukewarm and agonizingly sweet from all the undissolved sugar that sat at the bottom of the bottle. Perfect for the chill. Perfect for him to get his mind off of things for a bit.

He could see from the corner of his eyes that Marinette was gazing into the fireplace, the strings from her cap falling across her shoulders. He wanted to reach over and tuck that stray piece of hair under her hat— brush her bangs back and kiss her forehead. “Alya and Nino. I feel kind of bad that they have to sleep in separate tents because of us.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind it.” He kept his tone polite, trying not to devolve into his usual banter of flirts. I wouldn’t mind sharing another bed with you. He was Adrien. He was just a friend. She didn’t know him well enough. She didn’t know how well their fingers intertwined.

A short chilly breeze cut through their conversation, sending a plume of smoke from the fire into their general direction. The two of them parted, jumping quickly off their cushions as they tried not to laugh too hard. The smell of smoke burned in his nose and stained his clothes— no doubt his hair smelled like smoke, too. He should’ve worn a hat to keep the smoke smell off. Too late now.

Marinette laughed from the other side of the firepit, the light bright enough for him to see how sparkly her blue eyes were. He could probably see stars in them, if he got close enough— he knew that they lived there often whenever she was with him. “Was that the fire telling us to go to bed?”

“Not a chance,” He kept his voice low, and took a sip from his cup. It just barely tasted like smoke, which was a good sign to keep drinking. “But it may have been the fire telling us to get warmer. It’s freezing out here.”

As if she’d noticed only when he said it, she nodded in agreement, suddenly shivering under her three layers of clothes. He hoped she wouldn’t catch a cold from how much shivering she was doing.

He passed her the handle of his mug and asked her to wait, unzipping his tent to grab for his blanket. He almost hit the back of Nino’s calf in search for an end of the blanket to pull on. He brought the blanket’s edge around his shoulders, letting a big portion of the fabric drape across his shoulder as he accepted his cup back. He held the rest of the blanket with his long arm and shrugged his shoulder, beckoning Marinette to come closer and share the blanket with him.

As a friend. Just a friend. Always a friend.

He was miserable without being able to touch her.

They sat back down on the pillows, shoulders barely touching. She accepted the other end of the blanket with a thankful smile, and draped the remaining fabric over her thin frame. They sat in comfortable silence, letting the smoke billow up and the blanket cover them from the chill. He sipped from his cup contently, trying his best to stay at ease with her next to him.

Soft, strained laughter made its way out of Marinette’s throat. “No, I don’t think Alya’s okay with sleeping away from her boyfriend. Alya’s been trying to get me to change tents with Nino the entire trip over. This was supposed to be their getaway from home, you know. I’m sure she doesn’t actually mind sleeping in another tent, but I think she’d like it a lot more if they were together.”

“Is that what the both of you were talking about in the back of the van?” Nino had wanted to drive for the majority of the car trip, saying that whoever drived was always considered the designated controller of the speakers. Alya had sent him in the passenger seat, claiming that his kilometers of model-legs would cramp in the back seat no matter how much space he was given. His chance to try to warm himself up to talking to Marinette had been squished.

Marinette and Alya had spent the entire car ride talking in hushed voices in the back of the van, and Adrien wasn’t able to hear them over the sound of the speakers. Marinette had been stained permanently red from whatever blush had come up throughout the trip by the time they had made it to the park they were camping at. At the time, Adrien hadn’t understood what the fuss was about.

“Y-yeah.” She took a sip from her own cup.

“I’m sorry.” He found himself speaking before he was able to think of something to say, fingers white-knuckling around his mug. “Uhm. I know I make you uncomfortable sometimes— so the switch— it wouldn’t have been ideal.”

Marinette turned to him as best as she could on her floor pillow, trying her best not to jostle her hot chocolate. “No— no you don’t— make me uncomfortable. Honestly— I— I’m just really shy.”

He knew that wasn’t true. He knew for a fact that Marinette wasn’t shy with anything except when it came to Adrien. Marinette was vocal about everything and anything with everybody— he’d seen her bicker with akumatized people just as he showed up to take her away from trouble, and even when tossed over his shoulder to run she’d continue to ask them to let go of the akumas in them. Marinette was brave— and he knew that— and she knew that— but she couldn’t tell Adrien.

He wanted to cry. He was a coward who couldn’t tell her.

“Still though,” He cleared his throat as he felt a wave of tears threaten to take over his voice. “I don’t ever want to purposely make you uncomfortable, Marinette. You’re one of my closest friends. Being in a tent together would’ve made you uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

And incredibly difficult to explain if he had pulled her on him in the middle of the night, like he usually did under the context of being Chat Noir. It was one thing to explain doing it when he did it all the time. It was another to try to make an excuse when he was just his civilian self.

“No, no! I promise— I promise you don’t make me uncomfortable. Alya’s just been pressuring me to pair up with you since the beginning of time, it feels like.” She ducked her head, shy. Her cap’s strings bobbed at the movement, and she pulled at her collar as if she was struggling with admitting it. “I used to have a huge— huge— crush on you when we were younger. She took hold of it and has been running with the idea that we’re perfect for each other ever since then.”

He nearly choked on his drink. “Really?”

“It was embarrassing.” She placed the cup down and rubbed her fingers together for warmth. “B-but trust me, the crush is gone now, don’t worry.”

“G-gone?” Was the sky spinning, or was he just seeing things? Was he melting? Even while sitting he felt like the world had been pulled out from underneath him. She used to have a crush on him. She used to have a crush on him. Only to give it up so she could— so she could—

Date Chat Noir.

Date him.

His breath crumbled in his lungs, suffocating and painful in the cold air.

“I mean it’s been years now, and we’re good friends like you’ve said and— well I just— well— I have a boyfriend.” He saw her visibly bite her tongue at that. Her eyes widened at what she’d just said, nervously patting at her Chat Noir pajama pants, finally realizing that she’d admitted to having a crush on him. “I don’t think— and the tent is so small— it would be like sharing a bed and—”

“I— Oh— you do?” He had no words, staring at her with wide, slow-blinking eyes. Marinette had never referred to him as her— her— oh. Oh. Wait. Hold on. “But Marinette I would never— uh— and I never knew— I’m sorry—”

Something rattled in his chest, threatening to make him cough. Inhaled the hot chocolate into the wrong tube, he reasoned, but he couldn’t focus on it now.

Marinette referred to him as her boyfriend.

She used to have a crush on him.

The firepit was too loud in his ears. It was too hot under the blanket, surely that was it.

She smothered her nervous laughter into her cup, gazing behind her to see if Alya stirred at all in her tent. They didn’t have to worry about Nino, with his noise-canceling headphones. A bear could come in and take all their food and Nino wouldn’t notice. Or a boar. Many boars. Wolves. Cows. An entire procession of cows. With cowbells.

Adrien could scream at the top of his lungs— and he was very close to doing it— and Nino would be completely deaf to all of it.

“No, no, I didn’t— I didn’t mean to suggest that you’d do something, oh my god I’m so sorry, that’s not what I meant at all— I know you wouldn’t.” She groaned. “It— I just meant— it just wouldn’t feel okay to me.”

“Right. Yeah I’m— sorry. I never knew you had a boyfriend— god— I’m so sorry for—” Adrien couldn’t breathe, trying to clear his throat. She had a crush on him. Had. The stars in her eyes were blinding. “How— uh— how? How long, I mean?”

She blushed. How was he supposed to survive this? Oh— and she’d never called him her boyfriend before, at least not to his knowledge. They kissed a lot, they played video games, he helped her study and she would let him catnap on her chaise during the afternoon sun, but— well— there was only so much dating they could do when one of them was masked as one of the Heroes of Paris and was also a coward that couldn’t tell the girl he loved and dated that he was a civilian that she knew and— Adrien wanted to kick himself.

“Two years, maybe. That sounds about right, I guess?” She spoke so softly that he almost missed it in his turmoil.

He felt faint. “Two years?”

“We don’t really have an anniversary.” She had the idea to be sheepish as he stared at her, scratching the back of her neck with her fingers while she worried her lip between her teeth. She broke eye contact with him in favor of looking down at her cup which was only left with the small dots of undissolved chocolate spots. Adrien couldn’t stop staring at the way the firelight illuminated her face.

“He’s… very lucky to have you.” Adrien managed to say after a long pause in the conversation, his hands flexing hard around his own cup. Thoughts of being called her boyfriend so casually to anyone else made his entire body heat up in warm thoughts, and it made him want to take off his sweater from how sweaty the back of his neck was starting to get. If he could drown himself at the lake, he would’ve.

“He’s a private person,” She tried reasoning to him, under the impression that he was upset. “I don’t mention him because I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

Only half-true. Everyone knew who Chat Noir was, and even Marinette herself knew that he talked about his life as best as he could under the circumstances of not being able to reveal his secret identity. It would make him absolutely delighted to hear Marinette mention him even more in casual conversations like this.

“I can relate to being a private person,” Adrien chose to say, leaning hard onto his life-of-fame outlook. “Does Alya know about him?”

Marinette frowned. “Oh, god, no. Please don’t tell her— she’d never let me hear the end of it of how excited she is and the double dates and so many things we could do. We’ve never really discussed if we were ever going to tell others but I think it’s for the best we don’t. Alya wouldn’t be happy finding out that it’s already been two years, we’ve dug ourselves into a pit with this one honestly.”

Especially since it was Chat Noir. Alya would suffocate the both of them. The fact that he could envision it with such clarity made him grit his teeth.

He winced sympathetically. “I get you. Don’t worry, Marinette. Your secret’s safe with me. I promise. And don’t worry about your— ah— boyfriend. I hope he’s a nice guy.”

She nodded a bit too enthusiastically. “Oh. He’s wonderful.”

She gladly took his cup once he was done drinking the rest of the hot chocolate, and stood up to bin it. His hands clammed cold against the fabric of his pajama pants, and he wiped them against his thighs. He needed to tell her.

Seriously. He needed to tell her.

It wouldn’t be okay to continue this lie in front of her— especially since she called him her boyfriend to his face even though they’ve never talked about it— god what was he supposed to say to her when they saw each other again back at her house? How was he supposed to continue doing what he was doing now that he knew that she had a crush on him once?

He was going to faint.

He pulled out his phone while she pittered behind him, and cursed at the blinking empty spot on the top left corner of his screen. No signal. He couldn’t even text it to her even if he wanted to. He refreshed the messaging app just as a last measure, looking for anything that could come through. Nothing.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried earlier today, hitting refresh over and over on the app looking for new messages. He’d typed and then untyped messages on how he would tell her what he’d been trying to prepare himself to say for weeks. Everytime he thought he had gotten a message that looked perfect, he thought of the way Marinette smiled and laughed, and realized that he would break into a thousand little cataclysm pieces if he messed this up and lost it. Lost her.

Was he a coward? Could he truly not just turn to her and open his mouth and say the words that he’s been trying to say all night ever since he came out of his tent and started poking at the fire, longing for her to be right next to him and happy that they were together? And not have to hide behind a stupid hexleather domino mask and have Plagg complain to him that he was being too much of a lovesick idiot to do anything about it except just continue to go to her house?

Was he not able to confess his true feelings to a girl who had literally just spoken about having a crush on him to the point that their friends had tried to set her up on numerous occasions with him? And yet, his mouth remained shut. Coward. He was a coward.

“Marinette?” He turned to look for her, surprised that she was returning to her seat with an apple. He pocketed his phone, shy. He watched her eat, battling his mouth and brain for words to form and speak and say it.

“Adrien? Everything okay?” She looked as nervous as he did.

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s okay.” His tongue felt too big for his mouth. He didn’t want to ruin this. She was the greatest thing to happen to him. He couldn’t do it. Even if it made him flounder and upset at his cowardice, he couldn’t tell her. If something happened to their relationship because she was upset about it being him, Adrien would never be able to live it down.

“Are you sure?” He watched a trail of juice from the apple curl down her wrist.

“Oh, yeah. You should tell me more about him.” Adrien almost thunked his head back into the log behind him, disappointed in the way his voice sounded desperate. Anything to get Marinette from questioning why he looked like he was about to faint.

She looked up at him in between long lashes, adoration so crystal clear on his face. No. He definitely couldn’t tell her that it was him. “He’s my best friend. He’s my whole world.”

“More than Alya is?” He hoped he didn’t sound winded.

“Absolutely more.” She passed the apple between her hands, the puff at the end of her cap bobbing with her movements. “Oops. Don’t tell her that.”

He grabbed for the metal poker, letting his hands fidget with the sticks and the slow crackle of the fire. “What makes him your best friend?”

“He just knows so much about me. We spend so much time together. We’re hardly ever apart.”

“What’s your favorite moment with him?”

He knew her well enough to recognize her nostalgic gaze up to the starlit sky. He recognized her smile— reminiscing with such raw longing that Adrien had to give a double take in her direction. He wondered what specific moment she was thinking about. He wondered what moment he would pick if she ever asked him.

He remembered the days he would show up at her trap door, looking for somewhere to stay after a fight with his dad. Back when things were simple and Marinette was the only thing that could fix it.

Who was he kidding? Marinette was still the only thing that could fix it.

He remembered after the first few Akuma fights, when he would show up at her door just as a courtesy to check in if she was okay— the Akuma fights where Marinette would be in the middle of the fight begging the akumatized person to change their mind— and he would stay for hours. Under the pretence that he was concerned for a citizen of Paris, of course.

He remembered when she cried on his for the first time— something had happened at school that he had never understood because Marinette was a silent cryer when she cried, and didn’t speak other than the occasional curse word. He remembered when he cried on her for the first time. That was when he found out that she smelled like milksoap— and the scent had clung to his nose like a blanket for the entirety of the following day. The following school day he had felt that he was floating, drifting away in a cloud of milksoap.

He’d been useless during that following Akuma attack.

He remembered their first kiss— how could he not? The memory was seared into his head for the rest of time. It was one thing for him to lay on her bed while they watched cartoons together. It was another to lean towards her, hogging her body pillow, while she looked at him with wide expectant eyes. She wanted something from him, and he wasn’t sure what. A gentle little smile. Her breath caught on something. He couldn’t stop looking at her. What other choice did he have but to kiss her in that moment?

In her soft pajamas? Hair down? Cherry lip balm? The smell of hot chocolate on her breath? He wasn’t a fool. He had never been more sure of something in his life.

He still couldn’t remember what the cartoon was about.

Plagg had made fun of him for the entire day following it. He couldn’t help himself. All he wanted to do for the rest of his life was kiss her.

“My favorite memory would be… well. There was a day where he found out I have freckles.” Her voice took him out of his thoughts, and he nearly missed it.

“Your— your freckles?” He tilted his head, trying to give the impression that he had been paying attention.

Marinette’s eyes softened towards the fire, completely lost in thought. Adrien tried not to lose his breath. Even wind-chilled, and lips chapped, she made his heart hurt. “It was late, once. I think we were watching a movie at my place.”

It had been his idea to watch the movie. He had been absolutely certain that she would’ve loved the movie— and he was still sure— but they’d never finished. The entire time he had completely ignored it in favor of playing a game with her on trying to put his head on her lap without her trying to push him off the bed. She had laughed the entire time while he was trying, advocating on closing the movie app in favor of letting him cuddle. He’d gotten too close to her face, in the process— her laughter had died down. Her eyes were so much more bluer up close.

She had freckles. He remembered counting them— a smattering of dots across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheekbones. He’d lost track after twenty, since she’d broken away from him, stammering over her words that reminded him of when she talked to him as Adrien. It hadn’t taken a lot of brain power to realize that their movie night was done. He’d gone home after apologizing, and could barely look at her in the eye the next day.

“He looked at me like he had finally realized what I looked like,” Marinette laughed to herself, taking a bite of her apple. She was nearly done with it, Adrien noticed too late. She was going to get up soon. Maybe even head to bed. “It was the sweetest little moment we had, I feel like. I think about it all the time.”

Adrien could only keep the polite smile on his face for so long. Was she yearning for him? Did she know how much he wanted to burst from being so close to her but having to be a complete stranger? Did she know that he wanted to drown himself in the lake from how awake he was? If they parted for the night, he wouldn’t be able to sleep for the next week and a half. Plagg would never stop teasing him about it for the rest of time. If only she knew what he was going through. He tried not to choke on his tongue as his mouth ran over itself. “Marinette? I want to tell you something.”

She turned away from the fire to look at him fast enough to give him whiplash. “Oh. Did I— I’m sorry— did I over talk?”

“No, no not at all!” He could hear the strain in his voice. I’m here. I’m right here. It’s me. “I just. I just. Uhm.”

She tried to appease him. “Oh. If it’s about me having a crush on you, it’s okay. We’re just friends.”

He was an idiot. A huge idiot. Say the words. Say them. She was right there. Hugging distance. Kissing distance. He wanted to kiss her so badly. “No— well. It’s about the ‘you having a crush on me’ part, yes, but not just that.”

“Go on?” She winced at the weakness of her voice.

“I’m sorry.” Oh, he really wanted to drown himself now. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he say it? He fought akumas harder than this, and he had bruises to prove it. Why couldn’t he just say the words? His hands were shaking in his lap. He was freezing and on fire. His miraculous ring was never more interesting than it was as he twisted it on his finger with his other hand.

She frowned, not at all understanding. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m sorry for not knowing you had a crush on me when we were younger.” He was the emotional equivalent of grasping at straws, desperate for himself to be able to say the words in the most graceful way. Chat Noir was a coward. He wondered if Ladybug would be mad if she knew that he was floundering on telling a girl his true feelings.

“Oh— oh. That’s— that’s fine.”

“It isn’t. I should’ve realized.” He was nervous enough to rake an entire hand into his hair. “I should’ve seen the signs. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I thought you had been just a best friend at the time.”

“Seriously— it’s— it’s fine.” She waved him away. “It was such a long— long— time ago. We were children.”

Adrien could do nothing but be silent for the following minutes. Marinette had a boyfriend now. Of course she would be over him. Even though she was still dating him. What a confusing mess…

Would she still be over him after he told her? If she walked away, or zipped herself in her tent? The following day of hiking would be awkward and terrible. Oh, God. He didn’t want to lose her. If he sat here and ignored everything— continued to stare into the fire, with her at his side— would he be able to withstand the rest of the weekend? She was understanding, and she was kind, but he couldn’t help himself from trying to preserve one of the best things to happen to him.

Would it hurt if he fell face first into the fire? Anything would be more bearable than this. He would never be able to model again— no more money, fine. Who cared? He’d be dead. Maybe. He could feel it bubbling in him, threatening to escape his mouth in whichever way it could.

“I— I’m Chat Noir.” He bit his tongue so hard he could taste copper, trying to stop himself from talking. He managed to hold back a string of curses that tried slipping through.

She nearly dropped her apple, which was now mostly cored, searching his face for a joke. “I— hold on— what?”

“I’m Chat. I’m Chat Noir.” He barreled through it like ripping off a bandaid, refusing to make eye contact. “I know you were talking about me being your boyfriend. For two years. It’s— I’m— I’m Chat Noir.”

“Are— are you sure?”

“What?” It was his turn to frown at her. Was she starting to smile? “What— huh? What do you mean ‘am I sure’?”

“Are you sure you’re Chat Noir?”

He had the audacity to look down at his miraculous ring, wondering for a split second if he had hallucinated the past four years of his life. “I think so.”

She threw her hands around him tight, fisting the back of his sweater with her hands. The apple went flying from her hand, past his tent, and somewhere into the bushes— snapping twigs along its path. The fire crackled low as the last stick in the firepit burned, the branding heat leaving way to the chill air. He paid no mind to any of it, his nose full of milksoap, and his hands full of soft fabric from her layers of long sleeves.

Laughter bubbled in his ear as she clung to him— soft, sweet laughter that gripped his heart to the point it hurt. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I already knew, Adrien— I’ve been waiting for you to tell me for a couple of hours now.”

“What? How— how did— you—” He couldn’t help himself from pulling her closer, burying his face into her shoulder, feeling faint and overwhelmed. He couldn’t feel the log behind him, and he couldn’t feel his toes.

She curled her hand in his hair, and Adrien nearly lost his mind. The entire time he had felt guilty about keeping this from her and she’d accepted him with open arms. He would argue that crying was absolutely a valid response. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t cry, kitty-cat— it’s okay.”

He sucked in a breath. “How long have you known?”

“Just today. I found out this morning.”

“What do you mean? How did you—”

“You left early from my house today. You— you told me you needed to get ready for our trip, which was why you left so early from my house” She whispered. “I thought that was your way of telling me that you’re Adrien— but— you never mentioned it when we met up again at Alya’s house so I thought I’d— hallucinated it in my sleep.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” His mouth pinched. “Please— why— why didn’t you?”

She wiped a tear from his face. And then another. And then another. “I— I didn’t know if I’d heard you correctly, Adrien! I didn’t want to give something away just in case— so I’ve been trying to drop hints this entire time, instead.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, kitty-cat. You’re okay. Please don’t cry.”

He smothered her, pulled her into his lap to wrap the blanket around them, sucking in breath after breath. “I hadn’t even realized what I did— I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you waiting for me to admit it— I’m sorry that I took so long to tell you— I’m so sorry that it took me this long.”

“It’s okay.” She shook her head, the strings of the cap falling across her shoulders again. “It’s okay, Adrien. We’re okay. Everything is okay.”

He tucked the stray piece of hair back underneath her cap, hands buzzing from the ability to touch her. He followed the outline of her eyes with his thumbs— he followed the outline of her cheeks and jawline, as well— petting each individual freckle that dusted her cheeks. “Marinette— my god— I’ve— I’ve been going crazy this entire day— I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to tell you— I’ve been wanting to— to tell you— for— for the past two years. God. God.”

He tried his best not to squish her while he hugged her, but he couldn’t contain himself as soft peels of laughter mixed with his tears escaped. She laughed, and hugged him just as hard, squeezing all of the air in his lungs out.

Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay.

“I couldn’t fall asleep without you, Princess.” He managed to say after they’ve cried enough.

“I couldn’t either,” She confessed into his shoulder. “It was terrible— so horrible. Alya hogs the sheets— and then she has the audacity to complain about me moving around too much. I honestly was starting to go nuts, I’m so tired without you. I can’t sleep without you anymore, kitty-cat— I was about to somehow convince you that we needed to sleep in the same area together.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with you.” He kept his laughter down at the little pinch she gave him at his side. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing kisses to her forehead, at the edge of where her cap met her hairline when he brushed her hair back— when he kissed each individual constellation of freckles that dotted her upper cheekbones. “I’ll have you know, I’m an expert sleeper.”

She kissed him sweetly on the lips, giggling to the point it looked like it hurt. Adrien tried not to sniffle too hard as warmth after warmth filled his chest. “Believe me— trust me— we’ll sleep fine from now on.”

#fragileizyfic #fragileizyoneshot #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #marichat fanfiction #i hope you're having a good day!!!!!💕

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worldsover · 4 years

Text

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically. “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-" Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

#kpop smut #loona smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

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