#as i type this i know i sound petty and stupid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

formulaforza · 1 year

Text

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—01. all american girl —word count: 6.4k —warnings: none :) —a/n: this is queued so I'm sound asleep right now but trust when I wake... I will be throwing up about having posted this

It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and the kindergarteners at Robinson Elementary are getting picked up from the gymnasium and taken to their classroom to start their day. It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and their teacher, Chris Elliott, is running four minutes late to the first day of the U.S Grand Prix. Her fingers flatten down stray flyaways, working in tandem with the extra strength hairspray she found in the back of the Walgreens beauty aisle last night. Her makeup is strewn about in chaos atop the stark white marble countertops, a single folded piece of toilet paper in the trash can, remnants of her lipstick kissed onto the fibers.

She played it safe on the outfit today, still hasn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what the dress code for this race is supposed to be. Her Dad has been no help–he can get away with wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-up just about anywhere he goes. More is expected from her, though. Three days, three outfits, always walking the line between casual streetwear and Kentucky Derby without a fascinator. She settled for something painfully classic and American, figured a European sport would be eating up the concept of everything being bigger in Texas. Levi’s, a white tank top, and a beat up pair of cowboy boots should do a good enough job at letting anyone curious know she’s authentically American, without screaming out for attention. That’s the goal for the weekend; blend in and keep Dad company.

Dad, who is not-so patiently tapping his foot against the floor, watching pre-race coverage of the Dixie Vodka 400 on his iPhone 7, is a guest of honor for Ferrari this weekend. It was a classic Bill Elliott commitment, one he makes and then forgets about until he’s getting sent an email a month ago to remind him. One he makes when he forgets his son is racing the same weekend. That’s how Chris ended up here with him, instead of her Mom or instead of Chase or Chandler. They’re all in Florida for the Cup Series. Well–Chandler isn’t. Chandler’s at her hot-shot job in the big city living her life blissfully away from racing.

She can count on a single hand the amount of times her dad has missed a Cup Series race in the years since his retirement. Even if he’s moved on from driving the track, racing is in Elliott blood. It comes easier to them than breathing does. Chris won’t be the first to admit it, but she's the NASCAR nepotism equivalent of a Baldwin baby. She’s no Kennedy, the first-families of NASCAR are closer to the Petty’s and the Earnhardt’s, but, you ask a NASCAR fan about the Elliott Clan and you’re sure to get an earful. Champion, Hall-of-Fame inductee father, supergenius transmission and engine mechanic uncles, and a superstar fan-favorite older brother, the Elliott family racing history spans generations of fans.

Never the Danica Patrick-type, Chris has always preferred to watch the races rather than compete in them, but she still grew up at the track and was always up for a trip to visit her dad at the auto-shop.

“Mums,” her dad says, peeking his head around the corner into the hotel bathroom. It’s a stupid nickname, Mums, Chrysanthemum. She’d roll her eyes if it was anyone but Bill still calling her by it. “We gotta go, darlin’.” Chris nods at him in the mirror, flattens her hands along her thigh and tucks one final strand of her bang behind her ear, and then they’re finally leaving the hotel for the track.

It’s a strange kind of first for Chris, in that it’s not really a first at all. She’s been to COTA before, multiple times. Hell, she watched in the garage when Chase won the inaugural Cup Series race here in May last season. She’s even been to the U.S Grand Prix before, back when it was still in Indianapolis, when Chris was too young to remember if it was big or if she was just little. She’s used to the crowds, spends almost every weekend with upwards of fifty-thousand people, but this? This is the kind of crowd she can’t fathom being among, and it’s only Friday. If it takes them an hour and a half to get through traffic on a practice day, she can only imagine what the next two mornings have in store for her.

“No antics today,” Bill tells her in the car. “They’re not like us. Trust me, I know.”

Last time you went to one of these races, you were still a driver, she wants to tell him, but doesn’t. He doesn’t take well to the implication he’s an old man. Walking into the paddock with a yellow pass hung around her neck, FERRARI-GUEST-17 and a picture of the team logo popping up on the screens at the turnstiles, she’s beyond taken back by the pomp and circumstance of it all. She’s barely through the entrance and she’s already spotted half a dozen people who could buy her without it making a dent in their pockets. It’s nothing like walking around a NASCAR track. There isn’t a single Bud Light knight or backs sunburnt into American flags or t-shirts turned muscle tanks. It’s just… rich people. Lots and lots of rich people.

In the Paddock Club tent, Bill manages to find a couple of his old buddies. Guys he raced with back in the day who’ve turned up for whatever with whoever this weekend. It’s unsurprising, stock car racing is nowhere near as exclusive a club as Formula One. They aren’t any of the guys Chris remembers being a part of her childhood, none of them pseudo-uncles in the way some other drivers were. You’re all grown up, they tell her, note her height and her features and one of them even asks if she’s in college yet. She plays along, pretends she remembers them fondly and that they haven’t been on the recipient list for the annual Elliott family Christmas newsletter for the past thirty or so years. His buddies are much more comfortable talking about Chase, anyways, about his racing and his fiancee and his little boy than they’ve ever been talking about Chris or Chandler. The concept of a quote-en-quote girl dad wasn’t such a thing in the nineties.

Chris makes small talk with one of the wives. They can’t be that far apart in age, she’s definitely of a different generation than her husband. Gross. Chris lets the woman lead the conversation; she talks about the polka dots on her skirt and Chris’ cowboy boots that are, apparently, perfectly authentic.

They separate from the group of former NASCAR drivers and their child brides within the hour. Bill has to be in Ferrari hospitality by one o’clock for a special meeting. He’s still not sure what he did to get selected for this specific group of people who get to do a hot lap with one of the Ferrari drivers, but he isn’t about to ask any questions that might get him out of it. He sets off to hospitality and Chris sneaks out of the paddock and into the rest of the track.

There’s only so much to see inside the paddock. Hospitality after hospitality after hospitality, just in different colors with different modern structures with pictures of different cars. She wants to experience the event, not just the rich people who can pay their way into the upper echelon of the pinnacle of motorsport. If she’s going to be on her own for an hour and a half, she might as well be fully and truly on her own.

She ends up in the beer garden. More specifically, the bar tent. You can’t separate a NASCAR fan from the Natty Light. The pass around her neck gets her into the VIP area of the tent, which… feels like an antithesis of itself. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket when she’s waiting on her bottle from the bartender. It’s her dad.

Brad Pitt is here. Crazy.

She makes quick acquaintances with a couple who looks about her age. She compliments the girl’s denim jacket and then she’s in. The DJ is playing country music with a techno backtrack at the other side of the tent and they all three spend a good fifteen minutes trying to decide if they love or hate the set. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” the guy says.

“It’s definitely not the best, though,” Chris winces, spots a Ferrari pass hanging with the VIP one around the girlfriend’s neck. “Are you guys here with Ferrari?” She asks.

“Oh, “ she says, looks down at the pass and fiddles with it for a moment. “Yeah, Will’s a golfer and they invited him for a tour and to do this golf event with ESPN.”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Chris nods. “Have you guys ever been here, or is this your first time?”

“We’ve come every year for…” Will starts, looks to his girlfriend for the rest of his sentence.

“Four years,” she nods. “What about you?”

“This is my first time,” Chris explains, leaves out the technicalities because she barely cares about them, doesn’t expect a stranger to even half-care. “My dad’s here with Ferrari, and I’m here to babysit my dad.” She laughs.

The woman nods, makes a quiet ah sound. Will asks for clarification. “You guys lose each other, or something?”

Chris nods. “Or something.”

Charles sees her before he hears her. She appears in his peripheral on the top floor of Ferrari Hospitality, moving swiftly through the groups of strangers with a confidence that makes you think she owns the place. He half-prepares to excuse himself from his current conversation–not that he’s understanding more than forty-percent of the words coming out of this guy’s mouth–to take a photo with the short brunette bee-lining it over to him.

“Excu–”

“I think I saw Brad Pitt on my way here,” she says, and the man he’s been talking to for fifteen minutes laughs. Oh, he thinks, that’s mortifying. She’s not here to intrude on his conversation and ask for a picture. She’s here with this guy.

“This is my Chris,” Bill says.

“Hi,” Chris says. Chris. Chris. Chris is a woman. A woman extending her hand, thin and well manicured with a single ruby ring, for him to shake. “Chris.”

“Charles,” he says, hesitates. “You are not what I was expecting.”

There wasn’t much he understood from Bill Elliott during their hot lap, not that Bill didn’t talk. Charles just didn’t have the focusing capabilities to drive the car in an entertaining way while also deciphering the thick southern drawl of the man sat in the passenger seat. It was thick, heavy, and sounded like maybe he’d smoked a pack a day for a few years. That, or he was straight-up making up words in a bit that only he was in on. One thing he did understand, though, was the kids’ names. I have three, he’d said, Chandler, Chase, and Chris. He’d assumed all boys. Chandler, Chase, and Christopher. Christian. Cristiano. The last thing he was expecting was a beautiful girl with a firm handshake.

“You were expecting me?” She asks, and her voice is a million times easier to understand than her father’s.

“No, no. He just,” He gestures absently to Bill. Chris doesn’t break eye contact. She has wonderful eyes. “I thought Chandler, Chase, and Chris are three brothers.”

“Oh,” She laughs like it’s not even close to the first time she’s had to follow behind her dad and correct the miscommunication, and a piece of her bangs falls loose from its tucked position behind her ear. She fixes it without thought. “Well, you’re one for three.”

She asks Bill about the hot lap, asks if he had fun and he laughs. They’re very laugh-oriented people, he’s noticed. Laughy and almost intimidatingly good at holding eye contact. He’d always heard Americans had an issue with eye contact, and if that really is the case, these two practice their active-listening skills enough for the rest of the country. Their kindness is in their expressions, soft eyes and small smiles that keep you from feeling like an intrusion on the conversation. He notes all of his findings internally, categorizes them together as if he’s spent the last ten minutes looking at anyone but her.

She’s horrendously his type. It’s painfully apparent with every passing moment. The hair and the face and the build and the smile. Just, God.

“Why didn’t you do one?” He asks, “A lap?”

“The need-for-speed bug skipped the women in my family, unfortunately.” She tucks her hair again. He wonders if she’s growing it out or if she always keeps it at such a length that it’s just too short to stay where she wants it to.

“We could go slow,” he offers and she chuckles, closing her eyes long enough to roll them without him actually seeing them roll.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He’s never been good at flirting, always found it off-putting in the beginning, trying to walk the line between what one person finds fun and another person finds horribly uncomfortable. Once the dust settles, he can manage, but making those first few moves? He might as well be a deer in headlights. Semi-truck headlights.

“I don’t know,” she says, drags out the vowel sounds and he’s oblivious to whether or not she can tell he’s only making this offer as a chance to spend more time with her. He’ll get an earful for it, no doubt, but if she agrees it’ll be worth it. Bill chimes in, eggs her on with a guilt trip. You should do it, don’t be a party-pooper. Charles wonders if Bill can tell he’s flirting with his daughter. Probably not, he’d bet. “Okay,” she says, and his stomach does a celebratory flip. Before he can say anything more, Mia is pulling him off somewhere. He hadn’t even seen her coming, but he fills her in on the walk.

“Domani c'è un'aggiunta al programma dei giri veloci.” There’s an addition to the hot laps schedule tomorrow, he says. Mia glares at him and he pretends not to notice, flashes her a toothy-grin as an unapologetic apology.

When she’d agreed to do a hot lap with the gorgeous racing driver standing a foot away from her, she assumed it would be forgotten the moment he stepped away from the conversation. She never would have agreed to it if she actually thought it was going to happen. Chris was sorely mistaken though, when later that afternoon, a man dressed head-to-toe in Ferrari red finds her to gather her information. 1:10, he tells her through a thick Italian accent, be in hospitality at 1:10.

It was wonderful, really. Perfect, fantastic, great, legendary. This is an amazing opportunity. She isn’t going to regret agreeing to this, no chance. Even for the queen of optimism, this one is hard to put a positive spin on.

There is no underestimating just how much Chris hates going fast. She’s never liked it, spent the majority of her childhood getting carsick in a vehicle maxing out at forty miles an hour. Her sister and brother used to think she was faking it just so she could always ride shotgun. She’s not even allowed to drive the car if she’s with her dad or her brother because they can’t bear it. To her, a speed limit is just that, a limit. To everyone else, it’s a minimum.

Her only hope is that she doesn’t vomit all over an expensive supercar at 1:10 tomorrow afternoon, or worse–the cute guy driving the car.

In the meantime, she can distract herself with the Green Day performance and remind herself that only so much can happen in five minutes. Anyone can survive five minutes.

– – –

They eat the continental breakfast at the hotel the next morning. Bill has pancakes and Chris has cereal because, as she’ll tell anyone, there’s just something about cereal from a plastic container. She’s also three coffees ahead of where she was this time the day before, all of her nerves personifying themselves as desperation for caffeine. She’s responding to a work email on her phone while Bill has a call with Chase.

Somewhere on a race track in Florida, Chase is calling between practice and qualifying sessions. They talk every day during a race weekend–Bill and Chase–and it’s almost never about racing. Her dad might drop an occasional that’s not what I would’ve done or a well, that looked like fun, but that’s usually the end of race-talk. They used to fight like cats and dogs about driving when Chase was younger, so much so that Chris’ mom banned them from talking about racing inside the house for three straight years. The who of them are better now, now that Bill’s been able to let Chase find his own way and go through his own racing journey.

“Your sister is doing a Hot Lap today,” Bill says, and Chris can hear Chase’s laughter from the muffled speaker.

Bill and Chris are driven to the track on Saturday because traffic is so bad. It’s hot and windy and Chris has her window rolled down the entire drive, her fingers dancing through the dry air. She’s always loved the heat, the sun shining down on her skin, kissing her in a million different places all at the same time. She loves the heat, and the heat loves her.

The morning flies by. They start the day with a tour of the Ferrari garage, where they’re introduced, or re-introduced, to their drivers. They end up with a couple other very important people hunched over Charles’ car while he explains how much pressure needs to be applied to the brake pedal for the car to actually brake. Bill eats the semantics up, cars and their mechanics run thick in his blood, braided deeply into his DNA. Chris, however, has always enjoyed the more delicate things in life; the pink hair bows and the dollar store makeup kits and spinning herself dizzy in a flowy summer dress. She never spent exorbitant amounts of time at Dad’s engine shop or Grandpa’s Ford Dealership, it just wasn’t in her lane of interests. She sips another coffee–her fifth of the day–and listens attentively to Charles talk, bites her smile at his wild gesticulations. He’d make a good kindergarten teacher, she thinks, with his huge personality.

When the whole tour group is being shuffled out of the garage to be replaced by a new set of prying eyes, Charles makes a passing comment. See you later for the world’s slowest hot lap, he remarked, put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze as he moved past her.

She doesn’t know why, but she’d convinced herself that it wouldn’t actually be him she would be doing the lap with. It was qualifying day, after all. Surely, he had about a million and one better things to be doing than driving a random girl around a track a few times. She figured it would be a driver, but not one of the drivers.

After lunch, she makes her way back to Ferrari hospitality, to where she was told to be waiting at 1:10. She’s the only person who looks like they’re here on instruction. Nobody else is nervously picking at their cuticles or vibrating in place as a reaction to their seven coffees that morning.

She spent the night before grilling her dad about his experience, forcing him to give her a moment-by-moment breakdown of everything he remembered happening, from the safety briefing to the conversation afterwards. But, when it came time for Chris to actually do hers, there was no safety briefing warning her about the million different ways she could die. Instead, the same man who’d tracked her down the day before escorted her from the top floor of hospitality to the bottom, out the back into what she can best compare to an alleyway, and then to a red supercharged Ferrari.

Charles is there, talking to what appears to be a personal photographer and another man dressed in Ferrari garb. She re-introduces herself for a third time in twenty four hours. “I know your name, Chris,” Charles says, smiles and shakes her hand anyway. She doesn’t like the way her brain reacts to him saying her name like it belongs on his lips.

“Duh,” she laughs, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Right,” she nods. “Yeah, sorry.” Charles laughs out a sigh, cocks his head and smiles. Chris bites her tongue not to apologize again. It’s a reflex. She puffs out her laugh and shrugs.

If she manages to make it out of these couple laps with her life and the contents of her stomach still intact, she’s sure to still look like a clown–a fact she realizes as she pulls the tight helmet over her head. She’s worn racing helmets a handful of times, but it’s not muscle memory to her in the way it is to him. It takes her a minute to tighten the chin strap just right and despite his genuine offer to help her, Chris turns him down and blindly works her fingers under her neck until it’s just right.

“Why don’t you get a fun Hot Laps helmet?” She asks while she fights with the strap.

Charles knocks on the side of his helmet with his knuckle. “Custom fit. Safety reasons.”

Chris knows, she was just messing with him. She nods like she never could’ve guessed that was the reason. “My safety doesn’t matter?” She comments, pulls the strap tight for the final time.

“You think I’m going to crash?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I would never crash with Chris Elliott in the car.” There he goes again, saying her name all annoyingly French and nice and easy.

“Whatever,” she says, turns away so he can’t see her squished cheeks flush pink against the polyester. He opens the passenger side door for her, knocks his knuckle on her helmet this time, and horribly mocks both her words and accent before shutting the door behind her.

Chris has her seatbelt buckled before he can get around the front of the car and into his seat. Her leg bounces anxiously against the floor mat. Charles starts the car and moves to shift into drive, but stops short. “Are you scared?” he asks, and in a moment of vulnerable honesty, she nods. She’s more than scared. She’s terrified, and despite his brief attempt to reassure her that it’s going to be fun, her leg is still bouncing when they peel off from the group already awaiting his return.

A hot lap, she’d come to learn in the last day or so, would be more accurately referred to as hot laps–plural, multiple, several. Three, to be exact. One out lap, one push lap, and one cool down lap. Three laps. Hot laps. They should really start referring to it as a plural.

The best thing she can compare it to is a roller coaster. The turns share the feeling you get at the tipping point, right before your body thinks you’re free falling. Her stomach is left behind three turns back and it never really catches up to the car once they start. The straights are like that first hill, fast and crazy in a way that pulls from her lips screams she hears before she consciously chooses to release. It’s like a roller coaster, if the person sitting next to you is completely unaffected by the ride and spends the entire time trying to carry out a conversation with you between your screams and their giggles. It’s like a roller coaster, if the cart never leaves the ground.

On the cool down lap, when they’re going at a speed that allows Chris to pick up her soul when they drive through turn four, he asks her if she’s single. It comes at her from left field.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He laughs, takes a hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes!”

“Oh,” she says softly. If he notices the surprise in her tone, he doesn’t mention it. “I am.”

“Can I get your number?” She swears that his fingers are shakier than before as they hover over the paddle shift. They were sure-footed just minutes earlier, she’s sure of it. She’s sure of it, but there’s no way it’s a genuine observation. There’s no way she’s making him nervous.

She laughs, because what on God’s green Earth is a European Formula One driver going to do with a small town American girl’s phone number?

“I’m not abandoning my dad for a hookup,” she says, and he rolls his eyes, repeats the question. “Why do you want it?”

“Because, Chris Elliott,” she wants to scrape the way he says her name out of his voice box and pin it in a scrapbook. It’s like a tick, the way it burrows into her skin. Nobody should be allowed to make her name sound like that. “You are a very beautiful girl, and when a guy sees a beautiful girl, they act like an idiot and ask for her number.”

“Oh, my God,” she giggles, shakes her head and looks out the window like it might ground her, or like it might reveal that she really is in some fever dream state and none of this is real. She’s not even in Texas, maybe. That’s how insane this whole conversation is to her.

“Too cheesy?” He asks, grimaces. She shakes her head, holds her hand out for his phone.

“Just cheesy enough.”

When they get back to where they started, someone asks Chris if she’d had a good time. She nods, flattens down the static-electricity charged flyaways on her head and tells them yes, even if she’ll be just a little bit nauseous for the rest of the day. It’s not a lie, either, she did have fun. She was scared out of her mind, but in a way that makes her happy she did it.

They pose for a photo together in front of the car, the picture snapped by the only guy with a camera around his neck, the only one besides Chris not covered head to toe in Ferrari branding. When they pose, Charles’ arm wraps around her lower back and, almost like he remembers himself in the middle of the action, his hand doesn’t close around her side. Instead, it hovers just beyond her body, open and stiff and flat. How gentlemanly. “Good luck tomorrow,” she says.

He nods his thanks, “I hope I see you around this weekend,” he adds, and then they go their separate ways. Good thing, too, because she’s still blushing over it when she gets back to her dad in the Champion’s club. Bill is too distracted by the live feed on Chase’s qualifying laps on his tiny phone screen to notice Chris’ presence, much less the coloring of her cheeks. He qualifies third and they celebrate quietly with drinks from the bar and FP3 on the big screens.

They stumble into more NASCAR old-timers while in the Champion’s Club and Chris spends the time fifth-wheeling their conversations about Chase and watching the second half of qualifying on one of the TVs.

She doesn’t really understand the format of the weekend. In theory, she understands the basics, didn’t have to read Formula One for Dummies on the plane ride over, but the intricacies of it are beyond her. In NASCAR, drivers are split into two groups and then are only given, at max, two laps to set their qualifying times. It varies depending on the track that weekend, but it always hits some of the same points. From what she can gather from the low-volume televisions mounted on every surface around her, F1 is definitely different.

They head back to the hotel directly after qualifying to ‘beat the traffic’ which is code for Chris is still nauseous and they’re both feeling a little too heat exhausted. They stop for dinner on the way back, at a barbeque place right by their hotel. Bill orders the chopped brisket with potato salad and Chris gets the pulled pork sandwich with a tomato zucchini salad.

Chris has been really busy with work, with settling into the new routine with her new group of students, and Bill wants to hear all about it. She always struggles in September and October, feels inadequate every time the other teachers find their footing with their new class weeks before she does. It’s the first time alotta ‘em have been in a school, Bill reminds her and she shrugs it off, tries to find something more upbeat to talk about.

Chris and Bill have really gotten close over the past couple years. Growing up, she and her sister Chandler were massive daddy’s girls, had him wrapped around their little fingers from the moment they came into the world. But, when Chase started to really take racing seriously, the girls lost a lot of their dad to their brother and spent the majority, if not all, of their time with their Mom. As a teenager, Chris did what all sixteen year old girls do and rebelled against any and every rule in the book. While Chandler was touring colleges and getting 1550s on her SAT and singing in the church choir, Chris had other plans. Whether it was stubbornly refusing to clean her half of the shared room with her big sister, ratting Chase out for coming home at 2am drunk, or sneaking out of the second-story window to go out with her all-too-old boyfriend, she tested all of the waters. It wasn’t until college, until she moved away to Athens and was out of the house for the first time in her life that she realized just how important family was to her. She’s been attempting to make up for lost time since.

That night when she plugs her phone into the charger and shuts it off for the night, she realizes she’d been half expecting a late night text from Charles. It didn’t come, and disappointed isn’t the right word for the tiny little pit in her stomach because she wasn’t really expecting anything to come from typing her number into his contacts. It’s not disappointment, it’s something closer to acceptance or rejection, maybe. It’s not like he would’ve been searching out anything but a hookup, anyways, and Chris made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t into that idea.

She would never hear from him again, and that’s how it should be. The whole interaction turning into anything but a story she can tell in a couple months when she’s drunk would be entirely too complicated of an outcome.

She doesn’t let herself think about it any longer, leaves her phone face down on the side table and tucks herself into bed.

– – –

Traffic on race day is true-crime inducing. They’re driven, again, escorted and still spend an hour and a half in the backseat of an SUV. Bill and Chris watch from the VIP stands and Chris has never seen anything like this, especially not at COTA. Even Talladega and Daytona barely hold a candle to this spectacle.

If she has one critique, it’s that F1 should really hire some B-List at best celebrity to scream drivers, start your engines! At the start of the race like they do in NASCAR. It would really add some flare, she thinks.

She and Bill share Chris’ airpods, one in each of their ears listening to the NASCAR broadcast. Charles starts twelfth, for whatever reason. She can’t be bothered to look into it, knows it’ll probably be a penalty she doesn’t understand and she’ll be tumbling down a rabbit hole before she knows what’s happened to her.

While it’s not Chase’s best race–he finishes fourteenth with a single sigh from Bill–Charles puts on a show, fights his tires all the way up into third.

They watch the podium celebrations on the TV screens and nobody looks happy to be up there. They look miserable, almost, and she understands it to an extent. It’s hard to have energy after a race, she’s witnessed it first hand more times than she can count. It’s hard, especially at the end of the season. Burn-out is real, but still. They look bored. She didn’t know spraying champagne could look so tired.

Bill grumpily flies them home to Georgia late Sunday night. He’d wanted to wait until Monday morning, after all the billionaires and their super-jets take off right after the race, but Chris refused to miss another day of work this early in the school year, not when she was already going to be missing time in December for her brother’s wedding.

Bill’s been flying planes since before any of his kids were born. His most recent purchase is a Cessna Conquest II that he uses to fly the family around for short distances. In another gene that skipped the females in the family, Chandler, Chris, and their mom all prefer to be passengers. Chase, however, followed in Dad’s footsteps once more in becoming an avid aviation fan.

By the time they take off, any thought Chris had of getting a text from Charles has faded far into obscurity. He’d probably gotten dozens of numbers from girls this weekend. He was probably at a club somewhere right now still pulling women. Women more his type, probably. He seems like he’d be more into the refined type, the girls without the ‘cheap’ accents who were all worldly and spoke seventeen languages fluently and had long legs that carried them down runways across Europe every other weekend.

Little southern girls get texts from little southern boys, that’s how it goes. That's how it’s always gone, and Chris is beyond naive to think anything different for even a moment.

She grades papers on the flight home. Purple pen, because she thinks that color is fun and red is too cruel to grade with. Puffy stickers for everyone, even the kids who aren’t anywhere near the right track because she doesn’t want anyone to feel less than just because they struggle a bit more. Chris has always been a firm believer that the student is never the problem. If someone isn’t learning what she’s teaching, she needs to adjust the way she teaches it to cater to their learning style.

It’s her job to teach them, not their job to learn.

Joris has been laughing at Charles from the hotel room armchair for fifteen minutes now, beyond entertained by his best friend’s restless pacing, providing absolutely zero aid to his current predicament. This act has been going on for some time now. Charles, pacing for five minutes before pulling out his phone and typing up an opening message to Chris. Each time, he starts to read it out to Joris and then stops himself short, deletes it, and paces for five more minutes.

Hey, Chris. This is Ch–no, that’s stupid.

Sorry it took me a minute to text–absolutely not.

What’s up? It’s Charles, how–someone should just stop him from speaking to women all together.

There’s half a dozen renditions before Joris breaks. “Mate? What is your problem?” He finally asks. “It’s just a girl.”

“I know,” Charles sighs, “I know.”

“Then why can’t you send her a text?”

“Because.” He doesn’t really know why he can’t land on a message, why everything he types sounds entirely too casual or formal or nothing at all like what he would say to another human being. This isn’t a problem that he’s used to having. It’s the in-person flirting that fucks him up, not the texts and DMs and comments. She was just… he doesn’t know what she was. She was just. End of sentence.

It’s no help that he doesn’t know American texting culture, unfamiliar with how long he’s supposed to wait to send a message or what he’s supposed to say in the opening text.

“Here,” Joris says, holds his hand out for the phone. “I’ve got the perfect text.”

“Don’t send it,” Charles warns, but passes the phone to his friend.

“I… won’t,” Joris says slowly, struggling to multi-task. He doesn’t type for more than a few seconds and then hands the phone back to Charles, with the message already sent. Charles’ look of sheer panic is met with a smile and a chef’s kiss from Joris.

She turns her phone off while Bill is shutting the plane engine down in the hangar. Because of his love of aviation, Bill had bought some land out in the woods a couple decades ago and turned it into the family’s private airstrip for their planes. Elliott Field, they coined it, stored all their extra vehicles out on the property. She slips it into her back pocket as her and Bill disembark and lock up the place, and the entire time she can feel it vibrating, the notifications from the hour and a half flight catching up now that she’s on the ground again.

It’s not until she’s in her car that she checks them, pulls her phone out to plug it into the aux and play some music for the drive back to her house. Right at the top of the dozens of notifications is a message from an unknown number with an unfamiliar area code.

[one unread message] the notification reads. She unlocks her phone to check the message.

She closes the messages app on her phone and opens up Spotify, shuffles her favorite playlist. She doesn’t reply to his text, doesn’t know if she wants to or even what she might say back. She’s sleepy, more than ready for bed after a long weekend in the sun, excited to be back with her students bright and early tomorrow morning.

The text from the cute race car driver can wait for another day. An issue for tomorrow, maybe.

masterlist next chapter>

477 notes · View notes

upon-a-starry-night · 6 months

Text

Number Neighbors Pt.9

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 745

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

---

You stirred your cup of freshly made coffee as you thought of how close you and Nat had gotten over the past few months. You’d just finished some mild cleaning and were taking a break to make your third cup of liquid energy. There was no way you’d normally have the energy to clean your apartment without caffeine, and honestly, you were considering switching to energy drinks, the taste of coffee was becoming too…bitter.

Although you had to admit at least the taste matched your mood. If your mother were here she would berate you for how much pacing you’ve been doing, but you couldn't help it. Every time you let yourself rest your thoughts drifted to Nat.

You were worried you may have overstepped after your last conversation.

You and Nat had been texting over the weekend as you usually would when Nat expressed to you that her work was probably going to consume her for a while again this week, you outwardly groaned at the information. You knew that meant she probably wasn’t going to be able to text you the entire time. It always made you upset when you couldn’t text her, you wouldn’t ever admit how dependent you’d become on her presence out loud.

This time though, as you lay on your bed under the covers as the city lit up with its usual Saturday night party-goers, you listened to the laughs of friend groups and couples outside of your window and you found yourself succumbing to your usual melancholy loneliness. It was that same hollow feeling and the thought of being virtually alone all week that led you to confess something you knew you probably shouldn’t have

Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

I wish I could hear your voice.

The thought occurred to you many times as your friendship progressed, along with other terribly intrusive thoughts about her appearance and whether or not she was as beautiful as you’d begun picturing her to be. Nat didn’t respond to your message for a while and it got to the point where you stopped staring at the gray “seen” on your phone and turned the TV on for some comfort. Anxiety began to creep into your blood and you realized after watching the credits roll on an episode that you’d not even been able to pay the TV any attention.

You began to nervously pick at your skin, refusing to acknowledge the lump threatening to form in your throat. You’d googled so many times if it was appropriate to be so forward with online friends- Google the lying bastard told you it was common for online friends to send each other voice messages and even Facetime from time to time.

You knew it would be different with Nat, everything was. But you guessed some stupid hopeful part of your brain thought maybe…

You’re forced out of your thoughts by the sound of your phone buzzing, you quickly grab it and unlock it, heart pounding in your ears as you stare at the new message

Nat🔪:

You know I can’t do that.

It was such a simple message but it still made you ache all the same. You typed out a blank response and shut off your phone for the night, you doubted she was going to respond anyway.

Y/n🍦:

Yeah.

You fell asleep soon after that, missing the sound of your phone buzzing once more as you turned in bed.

Nat🔪:

I’m sorry.

That was the last message you’d gotten from Nat, and while you were broken up about it you were also salty. You didn’t text her on Sunday when you realized that it had always been you who texted first, and maybe it was petty but you wanted to see if she would reach out first for once.

Your Sunday came and went without a single message.

You called your mom just to have someone to talk to. You loved your apartment but lately, the space felt too empty and cold, maybe you should go buy a plant and get emotionally attached to that instead, people were too unpredictable.

Especially your person

The rest of your week was quiet and boring, you knew Nat would be busy but you didn’t bother spamming her with memes and messages like you usually would. You looked around your clean apartment and sighed, downing the rest of your coffee. You picked up your keys, needing a distraction, at least you could go grocery shopping.

Pt.10

A/n: And now we get to the angsttt :(

~~~

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish

158 notes · View notes

bluesidez · 10 days

Note

OKAY I HAD TO HIT YOU W THIS BC I NEED THIS TO COME TRUE 🗣🗣‼️‼️

AcademicRival!Miguel x AcademicRival!reader

where they will do quite literally ANYTHING (legally) POSSIBLE to one up each other.

whether their petty rivalry began in high school or first year of uni/college, IDC- but they absolutely despise each other.

and!!! at some point down the track, they forgot why they were beefing in the first place, only for it to start stemming from a place of 'jealousy' (yk how sometimes jealousy is actually feelings of romantic interest in disguise,, yeah, that) and it gets to the point where they are quite literally making it all their friends' problem bc of it.

like i can imagine reader drinking something that Miguel sees and Miguel going 'i need to have this all the time and sell it out so reader can never have any' and Peter is like '???', or reader finding out Miguel got a certain mark and goes 'nobody speak to me for a month i have to understand everything about quantum physics before that smug asshole opens his mouth' and Jess is like '??? just kiss, fym??'

and then they finally have a moment where they have no choice but to rely on each other- whether Miguel's car breaks down on the side of the road reader happens to drive by and she takes him to his, or if reader desperately needs help in a situation and immediately calls him bc she knows he'll pick up bc she needs scary dog privileges and thats HIM so then they end up having a moment of reflection together with either super fluffy smut or absolute debauchery and fluffy aftercare i totally dont mind either way.

IDK do you know what i mean??? 🫣🫢🤭

anyway LY BLUE-BLUE, thank yew for letting me ramble on 🤍🩵

Are you asking me to write this? 🧐 (I shall add it to the pending ideas list just for you 🐰🩵)

I wrote that as a reply as soon as you sent it, but now I have more ideas that I wanna yap about to go along with this.

SO!! You already have a rivals, enemies to lovers trope going on. What better way to make it even more fun than to add the stoic x chatty dynamic???

Like I’m imagining the reader and Miguel first meeting in middle or high school. He’s a transfer student that’s immediately making the top grades and people are like where tf did he come from?? Reader doesn’t really think anything of it, she just carries on with her school life, chatting away (and getting in on the gossip about Miguel).

It’s not until he ends up in the same class with reader one semester (probably in high school) that reader is finally able to be in close contact with him. He’s so quiet and a little boring, but there’s always random girls coming in and out of the classroom to attempt to chat to him.

They’re always bringing snacks or sweets for him. He always turns them down with a “No thank you. I don’t like chocolate.” type of response. (What he thinks to be polite and cordial)

The guys in the class think he’s a huge jerk. The girls in the class still fond over him. You think he’s an oddball, a weirdo. But you really have no solid information to justify it.

It’s not until one day that the teacher asks this obscure question that he pisses you off. (I havent thought of a weird question yet tho). Everyone else has given crude or stupid answers, riling each other up and joking. You raise your head to give the most out-of-the-box, yet plausible answer that leaves the teacher impressed and the class laughing in shock. Miguel scoffs and debunks it so fast, that you start to feel like one of his rejected groupies. If you thought the laughter for your answer was loud, the laughter for his sounds like the crowd in a football stadium.

You’re embarrassed but you don’t really show it. You just brush it off and joke with everyone else like usual.

Then, one of the class’s first huge tests come. You’re gunning for the number 1 spot although you figure it won’t be too hard with half of the room being class clowns and the other half not giving af. You read over the material once and already have a good grasp on it, so you joke around with everyone else. There’s rap battles and TT routines. You guys even manage to get the teacher in on some of them. From the front of the room, you can see Miguel glancing back at you with such a sour look on his face. Wtf was his deal??

Test day finally comes. You’re the first to turn yours in with a smug smile on your face. You even take a nap until the next bell.

You’re on cloud nine for about a good week. Although, every time you open your mouth in class, Miguel looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

Then, the time came for the teacher to hand out the papers. He was pretty theatrical and loved to announce who got the highest score.

You were gearing up for him to say your name. And you don’t know of you’re crazy, but you’re certain your mom didn’t put “Miguel O’Hara” on your school registration form.

You frown as you come back to reality, watching as teacher handed him is paper. From your seat, you can see the bright red 100 in the corner, a smiley face to adorn it.

Then the teacher hands you your paper. A 99.5. Just 0.5 points from a perfect score. And what you got points taken off for is something so ridiculous that you could scream.

You can see him in your peripheral as you chat with the other students about the answers. Just as you discuss your silly mistake you take a small look at him. He has a faint smirk on his face, as if to laugh at your downfall.

From then on, you decide that it’s a war.

[and obviously, the story would travel with them as they grow. Once they’re adults, I can imagine Miguel to still be this same stoic, yet more approachable person who has had a ROSTER of hookups and a reader who’s still so flirty and chatty, yet can’t find a good partner to save their life. The dynamic of him knowing exactly how to make reader feel good verses reader being overwhelmed for once would be sooooo good]

What do you think Lexie-bun?? 🥸

#lab testing 🔬#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader

138 notes · View notes

crusty-chronicles · 7 months

Note

sorry if this is a bad time to request and feel free to put this off till whenever or even delete it if you're sick of airheaded stronk s/o asks

I was wondering, could you do short headcanons about how hiei and/or kurama with a stronk/airhead s/o would react to someone random or even a minor antagonist actively being rude their s/o while they're in earshot

[for a more specfic example maybe that eyeball at the gate of betrayal calls their attempted sacrifice foolish or the pretty boy purple guy from the dark tournment says smth like "it's a shame such a pretty face is wasted on such a brainless oaf" which has the added bonus(?) of sounding underhandedly flirtatious.]

again no pressure to write this quickly or at all. i just figured i'd throw it in your ask box incase it interested you at all.

Also entirley seperate question but would you be willing to cover roroanora zoro in your stronk/airhead s/o series?

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O DRABBLES: How they react to someone insulting their S/O

An: Of course I don't mind! Never be afraid to request things, it just might take me a little bit to get to them but really I enjoy doing them!

--------------------

Kurama:

More than likely it would be a comment from Yomi or Kaito that would make him lose his cool. For this instance though, we'll go with the latter.

🦊🦊🦊🦊

It was a little after Botan got her soul stolen that Kaito decided to run his mouth. You having been kidnapped with Yusuke because where one went, the other followed. Much to Kurama's dismay.

"You've got me curious, playing house with a human I'd figure would be so far below you. Do you find them amusing? Maybe think of them as some sort of plaything? A way to keep yourself entertained?"

The taunt was an attempt to make the fox demon slip up. And it seemed to be working judging by his glare and increase in spirit energy.

"Did I strike a nerve? Don't tell me the great Yoko Kurama is actually infatuated with a human. And not a very bright one at that." There was a smirk on his face that only grew seeing Kurama manipulate the plants around him. Knowing he couldn't physically hurt him at the moment.

"You should have seen them. Getting all worked up over Urameshi being immobilized, only to fall for the exact same trap. It was almost too easy. Even when being told moving was useless, they still struggled. Yelling out curses and promises to...what was it? Oh yes, 'kick out asses' I believe. I never would have pegged you as the type to go after a stupid brute."

His cackling was soon disrupted by the sound of Kurama's voice. Speaking up at last with a tone so cruel, it temporarily frightened Kaito.

"You should hope I don't find a loophole around your no violence rule. Because if I do, you'll regret every last word." Eyes glowing an eerie golden.

When he finally bested the snarky human, he half thought to just crush his soul. No only because he put his friends in harm's way, but he also insulted you.

Insulted his relationship with you.

Buuuut, Kurama wasn't exactly allowed to end a human's life. And he refused to stoop that low anyways.

No, he'd just leave Kaito the way he was and focus instead on getting you and Yusuke back safely.

Overall he's petty about it, but not angry enough to lash out. He'll let it go for now....But if it happens again all bets are off.

----------------------

Hiei:

For Hiei it is most definitely Shishi that gets to him. I feel like maze castle is a little too early for him to get mad at someone making fun of you. Maybe a comment of 'A foolish sacrifice and yet you're the one who's dead'. But if it's during the dark tournament on the other hand 👀👀👀

⚔️⚔️⚔️⚔️

Kuwabara had just gotten teleported to who knows where. Leaving you, Hiei, and Kurama left to fight. It was just your luck that the die landed on your name. The other once again on Shishi's.

"Oh great, another bumbling idiot. At least this one is easier on the eyes." The demon commented as you made your way onto the arena.

Already Hiei could feel his blood start to boil. Disliking the way Shishi seemed to look you up and down.

"Perhaps defeating you will boost my popularity. Just don't die so quickly. I want to be able to entertain my fans."

You were already getting tired of this guy yapping. And it didn't help that he made your best friend vanish into thin air.

"I wouldn't be so sure about you beating me."

But at your comment, he only grew angry and snapped.

"Are you delusional or just that stupid? You think I would let a mere human beat me? Especially one as klutzy as you."

You were not a fighter to be underestimated. Hiei knew that firsthand. Yet you continued to let that cretin berate you as you fought.

For some reason that made him furious. Wanting to both put him in his place and let you teach that bastard a lesson. He took a step forward. Already deciding that if you did indeed lose this fight, he'd be the one to beat that egotistical demon.

A firm grip on his wrist stopped him from taking another step forward.

"Refrain from doing anything foolish. I know you care for them, but you'd only be damaging their pride more by stepping in." Kurama scolded.

The words temporarily snapping Hiei out of his protective thoughts.

"Tch, I don't care for them."

Hiei is absolutely ready to throw hands on your behalf. Yes you're foolish, but you're his foolish human. The only one allowed to insult you is him.

------------------

MASTERLIST

#hiei x reader #kurama x reader #yu yu hakusho x reader #stupid s/o #stronk s/o #x reader #yu yu hakusho #yoko kurama #shuichi minamino #hiei jaganshi

162 notes · View notes

lazyalani · 10 months

Text

| Itoshi Rin × [F!Reader]

| Silence

| angst, hurt no comfort, no happy ending, rin does not know how to show his feelings, rin is in too deep for sae's acknowledgement, reader just wants him to be happy, rin is scared to try, reader understands where he's coming from but is also tired, swearing, rin is so angsty type

| Summary: Rin's silence always is the obvious answer.

| Blue Lock Masterlist

| Main Masterlist

Every arguement,

The sound of rushing footsteps and heavy pants collides with the sound of the continous banging of soccer balls on the ground.

You breathe heavily when you reach the park, putting your hands on your knees for support. It isn't that bad, you think. It helps with the raging cold of the night, you pant on your scarf. You take one last deep breathe and stood up straight, staring at the boy kicking the balls without a break and running around.

Rin, however, doesn't even notice you staring at him, nor did he notice someone even came. Too focused, concentrated on the balls, or his thoughts?

You match the frown in his face, does he not see you or is he ignoring you? You rolled your eyes, this is the first time you get see each other in months because of that stupid Blue shit or something and he doesn't even bother to go to your house and greet you? What a brat.

"Rin...." You call out and he visibly snaps out of his thoughts, eyes widening and the balls misses the goal.

He takes deep breaths, slowly standing up straight and going over to a bench to drink water.

"[Name], what are you doing here?" He barely acknowledges, not even looking at you and wiping his face.

every word we can't take back,

You try to calm down your temper, not wanting your first reunion in months to be a bickering contest or whatever the lukewarm shits he says.

"Can I not greet a friend after months of not seeing him?" You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow and sitting cross legged, leaning on one arm across the bench he was sitting on.

He stays silent, fueling you even more.

You sighed heavily. "Rin, what have you been doing all this time?"

"Training."

"Why haven't you contacted me?"

"Phones weren't allowed inside---"

'Cause with the all that has happened

"But they are once a player reaches a certain amount of goals and requests it." You wonder if he's surprised you know, if he is, he certainly has amazing control of his expressions, because not even a move of a brow was shown, and he stays silent once more.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back to the fence. "Your mom told me you got your phone back, yet I never even got a reply, not even until now. What's the matter, Rin?"

"I just forgot."

"The same damned excuse over and over again." You sneer and he finally shows an emotion, frustration.

"I was busy, I am busy."

"Would it make you less of a better player to reply even just a single word?"

Before you knew it, it had turn into a shouting competition, just as it always has.

I think that we both know the way that this story ends

Wait, it hasn't always been like this, hasn't it? How had those small and petty arguments led to this? Before, it was always you and him bickering over the single chocolate Sae has left and over the other half of the chocolate twin popsicle Sae bought. Before, it was always resolved with just Sae buying another. Before, it was just you and him trying to train you at soccer. Before, it was just you and him sleeping at Sae's bed and making him sleep on Rin's room. Before, it was just you and him racing to the park. Before, it was just you and him smiling and laughing about the most random things. Before, it was just you and him secretly making fun of the kids who slip and fall and Sae either berates you or joins you. Before, it was just you, him, and Sae, having the best times of your lives.

Now, it's just you and him shouting. Now, it's just you and him fighting for your prides. Now, it's just you and him barely even talking. Now, it's just you and him as less than friends. Now, there's no more Sae.

"Why can't you take a hint and see that I don't care?!"

Now, it's just you.

Then only for a minute,

Oh, where had the sweet boy gone?

His words stabbed you right on the heart. Bullseye. Bullshit.

You didn't know what to say, or what to do. You wanted to punch him, slap him, kick him, scream at him. But what would you even say? What can you even say? What good would that even do? Oh, he's already won this competition alright.

Oh, where had all his promises gone?

All those promises of never leaving each other. Never leaving like Sae did. Never letting emotions win. Never letting a day pass without making up. Never letting things go too far. Going to ask you to be his girlfriend someday. Going on sappy dates and peaceful movie nights. Going to say I love you before the day ends. Keeping every promise made.

Where had it all gone?

You didn't know. All you knew was if you asked him, he would've said he didn't either, or he would've never answered, like he always did. Oh, right, it wasn't always like that, huh?

Oh, where had that caring boy go?

Into the shadow of his brother, you would say if asked. Drowned in the hurtful words thrown at him by the same brother he loved with his everything. Mourned for the acknowledgement and attention of the same brother who promised to become the best striker in the world with. The same brother who shattered their dream.

In that moment, Rin knew it was over. But why is it that he wanted to swallow everything back?

I want to change my mind,

He thinks he should take everything back, but the lump on his throat and his ego says otherwise.

Oh, where have your promises gone, little boy?

Inside my brother's shadow, he'd answer if asked. He knew he was in too deep into his 'revenge', but he can't help it. This is how he's always been. One goal, one direction, straight ahead, going as far as he can, and never looking back.

Oh, where have your promises gone, young man?

Inside the trapping walls of the soccer ball, he'd answer if asked. Before, it was you and him trying to teach you soccer. Now, it was you and him fighting because of soccer.

Now, he just left you hanging.

'Cause this just don't feel right to me

Oh, sweet boy, where have you gone?

Into the depths of my ego, he'd answer if asked. In too deep, too far gone to even come back. Not willing to sacrifice the things he worked so hard for. Not willing to show how much you really meant to him. Not willing to be vulnerable. Not willing to be weak. Not willing to be looked down on by his brother. Not willing to give in to anyone.

Not even to you.

Oh, sweet girl, what are you willing to do?

Everything, she'd say if asked. But I've already done everything. I've tried everything, why won't he notice it? I did everything for him. I tried everything for him.

You scoff and laugh bitterly, a tear cascading through your cheek, finally allowing yourself to break. "All these years, I have done everything just to pull you up. I have done everything to not let you kill yourself for your pathetic little brother complex. I have done everything not to let you die from exhaustion. All these years, I have done nothing but to love you, just like we used to to each other." You say, letting everything out.

I wanna raise your spirits,

"Yet you have done everything to push me away. To cast me aside when you decided to go after your brother. You decided to chase after the same person who casted you away like you did to me instead od staying with me, the same person who fucking stayed with you throughout everything. I was there when he wasn't. I was there when he left. But you still wanted to chase after him after everything. I always wondered why but I figured I just wasn't enough." You brushed your fingers through your hair, tears continously falling down your face, but you didn't bother to wipe them. You wanted him to see the damage he dealt without a care in the world.

He stayed silent, as he always has, ever since that day. And for the first time in forever, you, who has always known how he felt like inside, didn't know about the burning feeling he feels on his eyes. The burning sensation he feels as his eyes and nose reddens, you think it's because of the cold. Because you think he doesn't even have enough care to feel your pain.

"I changed myself to be the desperate girl who just wanted just for you to notice me again. All these times, I supported you and encouraged you even when your parents wanted you to stop soccer because of what happened. I patched you up when you got bruised and injured. I brought and gave you your pens, papers, notebooks, books because you kept forgetting them for prioritizing your cleats and soccer ball. I brought them even when I knew I was gonna be late over and over again because I didn't want you to fail. Because I knew failing would get you out of the soccer club you loved so much. I was there when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I was there when you needed to rant. I was there even when I knew I was only going to be casted aside again and again. And you know why? Do you even have a single fucking idea why?!" You exclaimed, standing up, voice getting a little bit louder every sentence.

He leans his back and head on the fence, closing his eyes shut, a tear finally falling down. But he doesn't care to wipe it either, too tired to care.

You see it, but you didn't care, that was nothing compared to what you were feeling all these years.

"All these years, all these times, I just wanted to see you smile again." Your voice cracked as you stared him, eyes full of intense emotions.

I want to see you smile, but

He opens his eyes and lets himself get lost in yours. Maybe, just maybe this time, he could let himself get lost in you. Maybe, he could be strong enough to ignore his pride and ego.

know that means I'll have to leave

Staring in your eyes now, he feels even more drained. How ignorant could he have been to not notice how tired you were? Or maybe you just hid it so well. You've masked your true feelings so well that he couldn't notice. Or maybe he just didn't care enough to try and see through it.

And you finally let it all loose, now that you finally let it be seen, all he can see is a shell of the sweet girl he loved. He wonders if this was how she felt all this time.

Oh, young man, why did it only sink in to you now?

Lately, I've been, I've been thinking,

A small part of you, a deep part of you, and a special part of his inside of you hopes he would say something. That he would try and save your falling relationship, whatever it is. Just something.

And a big part of him, the deepest part of him, a special part of you inside him hopes that he could take everything back. That he could restart. For the first time, he wishes life outside soccer has a restart too. A kick off. Then he'll let you take the ball.

He'll let you set the curve and control the game, his game. And then let you get far away first so that his brother's shadow will never catch up when you score a goal you'd take control and never let him have the ball that made him this way.

So that when you make a goal, he'll see that smile that made his little heart fall again. and not the face full of tears infront of him right now

I want you to be happier, I want you to be happier

But he doesn't.

He doesn't say anything. He isn't strong enough afterall. Not strong enough to keep the ego inside him. Not strong enough to push the lump on his throat.

In this game, he doesn't let you take the ball. His ego doesn't let him. His ego leaps up and crushes your dreams, making its way to the goal, pushing past everything and everyone, never looking back.

For the first time in both of your lives, you walk away.

When the evening falls,

For the first time in your life, you were the first one to walk away.

"I should've turned my back on you ages ago."

He swears his heart breaks again over and over again when he saw the life in your eyes drain.

Oh, where has the sweet girl gone?

He blames himself. Ofcourse he does. Deep inside he has always blamed himself. Deep inside he has always seen how your shoulder drops and smile fade away when he reject another one of your hang out plans. When he tells you an excuse why he ditched you.

He wonders if all of this wouldn't have happened if he was just stronger. If he was just strong enough to take his brother's critism. If he wasn't so vulnerable.

He wants to blame it all on his brother. As he always has. The blame is always on Sae. He always blames everything on his brother. Because he couldn't accept him changing positions. Because he was too stubborn. Because he was so naive.

He wonders what could've happened if he decided to let go of his brother's shadow? Would he had have asked you to be his girlfriend by now? Would he had have given you that plushie you had wanted so much? Would he had have won you the pikachu plushie on the arcade? Would he have been watching a movie and cuddling with you right now?

And I'm left here with my thoughts,

His heart breaks over and over again again at the thought of you living a happy life without him. What a hypocrite, he thinks to himself. He pushes you away but doesn't want you to be happy without him.

The thought of you spending your life with another person, with another love that isn't him, brings a tub of boiling anger to his heart. He thinks he's an asshole, a fucking prick, a shitty douchebag, and he knows it. He doesn't want you to give up on him.

But then again, he's drained all your love for him, hasn't he?

And the image of you being with someone else

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock angst #lazyalani #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #rin x reader #blue lock x female reader #bluelock x you #itoshi rin x you #itoshi brothers

278 notes · View notes

danfrik · 4 months

Text

IT IS I, ONCE AGAIN.

Did'ya miss me? Probably not, anyway.

I'm here with another drawing that I kind of procrastinated to finish until today-

It took me like five hours to finish what I already had started...

But whatever, welcome again to my impulsive (and kind of stupid) little brain, I'm going to talk about this and you will read everything.

⚠️Minor/Major Spoilers Ahead⚠️

First things first.

I want to make clear that, yes, Miles and Phoenix switched bodies just like Aziraphale and Crowley did.

Those marks on Phoenix's face? Let's just say that that one headcanon about holy water tears is a thing here (because I'm a sucker for angst).

I also want to point out some details about the switch thing because... well, I just want to talk about every little detail, let me cook.

• On Good Omens (the TV show, of course), Crowley (as Aziraphale) has an ice cream while Aziraphale (as Crowley) has a popsicle, but here I decided to be special and reverse that because, honestly, I see Phoenix being more of a popsicle guy, and Miles more of an ice cream type of man, don't ask me why.

(Also, I gave Miles a strawberry ice cream with sprinkles and Phoenix a grape popsicle, I'm sure you know why.)

(Because Miles likes pink and Phoenix likes "grape juice", that's why.)

• One of the things that I did to make the switch slightly more obvious is the frown, more specifically Miles' frown, the old "Edgeworth glare™️".

So, no matter how hard Miles is pretending to be Phoenix, we cannot take away his glare. On the other hand, Phoenix is really expressive (even behind those shades, yes), so he'll try to keep it either slightly neutral or keep that rest bitch expression (did I say that right?).

I mean... he is pretending to be Miles, y'know?

• Other thing that I did was change Phoenix's clothes while Miles is pretending to be him.

Gave him a waistcoat and his tie back because, of course, Miles thinks they suit Phoenix just fine (and he is absolutely right) and because he could never dress like a basic bitch, he is a classy bitch after all.

Oh, and I gave Phoenix a little handkerchief, like I said, Miles is a classy bitch... with questionable fashion sense *stares at his jabot*.

And, not gonna lie, Phoenix has no fashion sense, at all, the only reason he slays like he does in his usual outfit, is because he takes Miles' advice every now and then, but if it were for him he would wear crocs with socks (I mean, based, I do that too).

• Oh, I almost forgot about a tiny detail.

Miles also managed to brush Phoenix's little flick of hair, you know that one.

He likes to be presentable, no hair out of place.

• Phoenix didn't change anything of Miles, he is perfect as it is (jabot and all, I guess).

Now that I covered those little details, I can proceed to talk about other things >:)

Actually, is more of the same topic anyway.

The whole switching bodies trick, that is.

Aside from the details about costume and mannerisms, I want to talk about both sides.

How Phoenix will act in heaven and Miles in hell?

I picture it kind of like this:

For Miles side, pretending to be Phoenix is not as difficult as he would've thought, at least for the bantering and body language part.

Quite surprisingly, he does pretty great, the only difficult part might be the facial expressions, but he managed to not catch anyone's attention anyway.

Like in the TV show (Good Omens, I mean), Miles exaggerates little things about Phoenix, like being a bit more dork, maybe even a bit nonchalant or flamboyant, slightly dramatic but not too much.

Now for Phoenix, it is kind of difficult for him to not react at the petty coments and keep a neutral face but he manages, though his eyes speak for him, of course.

He keeps this solemn atitude, even spoke with the same flourishness that Miles tends to speak with, and bows before the Archangels.

Not that he wants to, but he knows that Miles does that out of respect for any higher being.

His body is mostly stiff, not daring to make any sound unless necessary, he only dared to glare when the hellfire came and when they insulted Miles.

Miles, much like Aziraphale, played with the holy water, splashing just enough so it won't reach anyone but also enough so no one would dare to get close to him.

Also joked around and asked for a rubber duck and a towel (and almost dared to ask for some scented candles).

"Y'know? It is quite relaxing being like this, it feels refreshing, a demon could get used to this."

With Phoenix is quite similar as to how Crowley messed a little with the Archangels, but he didn't stay silent.

He took a deep breathe once he was on the fire, did the "breathing fire" trick as well, and made a little joke, as if taunting them for not being able to destroy Miles nor him.

"I've been to hell recently, it was really lovely if you ask me, warm and cozy... you'd like it."

And so, both sides let them go and switch back again.

Leading to a small talk about both sides leaving them alone for a while, the not-apocalypse, the "antichrist" and all that.

Of course, finishing with that date- I mean, dinner at the Ritz, cheering for the world while a nightingale sings not so far away.

Oh, and I want to add a little thing too!

When they stand up from the bench, after switching again, I kind of want Phoenix to make a little joke about his own name, kind of like:

"I'm gonna be honest with you, angel, I really felt like I raised from the ashes back there."

"Must you be so foolish all the time?"

"Aw, c'mon, you think it's funny, I can see you holding back!"

"Nonsense, I would never consider funny that ridiculous and foolish joke of yours..."

[Spoilers: He did]

Anyway, I think that's all, at least for now.

Thanks again if you have read all the way down, if you didn't... well, that's understandable, but thank you anyways!

Hope you have a nice day, stranger!

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #wrightworth #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #alternate universe #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #art #digital art #sorry for the long text #i just really need to let out my ideas once in a while #i didn't mean to be this obsessed #actually #i kinda did

64 notes · View notes

colouredzz · 5 months

Text

𝖥𝔄𝖭𝖳𝖠𝖲𝐼𝑍𝐸⠀⠀✷⠀⠀⠀𝈺⠀𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀

⠀⠀𝗱𝗰 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀⠀✬⠀𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 . . . 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌 ᅠ♰ᅠᅠׂᅠᅠ＼⠀𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐀 girl's fantasies run through her mind, dreams take charge of taking her to the most anticipated moments of her pathetic life, wetting her underwear and cursing that her reality was totally different.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 wants her skin boiling against his delicate body, she was born to be the girl of his dreams and not a total.

─── do not try to plagiarize or make stupid comments about my one shots and the protagonist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀created by @PSYBERH99D

⠀⠀✶⠀⠀𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞 morbid things about the boys dc, main in batboys ❪ later ❫

⠀⠀✶⠀⠀𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗦𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝗚𝗜𝗙𝗧 for my precious beca ❪ @birdniight ❫ for your birthday that was yesterday, but for climate issues in my city, everything is It went well to hell. ⠀ I stay calm with having congratulated my bestie on this day 14 just when in his country it was already on November 15.

⠀⠀✶⠀⠀𝘽𝙀𝘾𝘾𝘼 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙏𝙀 this based on my friend's whore even if it wasn't my intention ❪ it literally came naturally to me ❫

⠀⠀✶⠀⠀𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞 by one shots will be very fanfic type but with a lot of porn involved, Do not judge me.

⠀⠀✶⠀⠀𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 There are many of them who are going to fuck the protagonist, Don't blame me if it took too long.

⠀⠀𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀. . . smut, sexual degradation, masturbation, oral sex, slightly forced submission, sexual relations in public places, shame, masochism, voyeurism, sexual group, threesomes, taste for adults, involuntary innocence, raw sex, double penetration, fetishes, phallophilia, hanging, etc.

⠀⠀𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . the characters used (with the exception of Becca White) are the property of DC Comics and none of them belong to me. The plot and so on are mine.

⠀⠀୨౿⠀⠀⠀⠀֛⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐂𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 for being a woman of ethereal attractiveness including her characteristic and unmistakable graceful sense of humor, she secretly professed a petty ⠀⠀ ━exorbitant and obvious━ ⠀⠀ infatuation with the old man his father's comrade, because in his gentle and tender eyes, Bruce Wayne was perfectly imperfect, far removed from the specific traits that led directly to the ideal type standard; without having the intention of sounding demanding; It was enough and incredibly satisfying to see his kind intentions with the less fortunate who came to the man's help in the first person, falling at the feet of the Elder. ⠀ to say, to describe how ridiculous and the catastrophic level of his shame for his feelings, worse still, his growing desires for more than simple caresses, was a complete disgrace, they were a constant torment that day and night he suffered; he had no voice, nor a vote, the control and sanity of his jovial thoughts were violated by the main culprit of his martyrdom; who unfortunately did not know ⠀⠀ ━or knew perfectly well━ ⠀⠀ what it caused to his small anatomy.

⠀⠀ now I lived on vague encounters and few exchanges of words.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ a gala was being held at Wayne Manor with a hidden motive, the uncertainty and mystery is almost possible to breathe and the nervousness eats away at the patience of each person inside the great Hall until reaching a point where Becca She is forced to feel out of place to start pacing every solitary corner of that majestic room, luxuriously decorated and perfectly lit ⠀⠀ ❪with certain blind spots, but nothing she can complain about❫. ⠀⠀ hears murmurs, rumors and flattery directed towards the Elder Wayne: the patriarch of such a prestigious family with three adopted children and one biological ⠀⠀ ❪dead, as was previously the second of his offspring until he was legally revived❫, ⠀⠀ a sweet smile appears on Miss White's fleshy and well-kept lips; probably proud, but of what? balancing the thin glass of white wine between each finger of her small hands, absorbed in every thought; browsing without being aware that a picturesque look ⠀⠀ ❪many, actually❫ ⠀⠀ details it down to the smallest imperfection.

⠀⠀ it runs through every curve of the tiny body, loses itself in the spongy, thin and smooth cheeks, mentally notes the soft, unexpressed whispers in a low voice and even goes lower and lower until it just returns to its starting point. ⠀ that tender look melted in chocolate, with big eyes: similar to a deer.

⠀⠀⠀ wants to go. ⠀ wants to meet her, introduce herself, hear her name and repeat it; he wants to savor each letter in his oral cavity, just projecting himself into such an imagination causes a vibration in his chest due to the warm bubbling invading a large part of the thin and pale cheeks in the masculine features, saying it with such adoration until he is the culprit of an intense blush on the rosy cheeks because of the soft tone dissolving because of that seductive tone that is part of the gravity in his voice.

⠀⠀ he takes a step forward but, surprisingly, his younger brother discreetly rushes to steal the attention of that pleasant female without so much work.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ cautiously examines the stunned expression on the melodious female face, Damian ignores the gesture and asks something of his own; using overall distinction of the magnificent sharp lip without losing sight of it at any moment. ⠀there, right on their own side within the great Hall, two figures join on each side, equally observant of the exchange of words between the legally recently revived younger brother and the woman who takes away sighs from her Father prudent enough to that no one will notice. ⠀ The only difference was that they were not normal people, it was a little late but they noticed it.

⠀⠀⠀ ━━━ that brat is a. . . ⠀ ━━ ⠀ ⠀ the offense is cut off by the severity shining in the blue orbs and he grumbles dissatisfied.

⠀⠀ ━━━ Jaybird ⠀ ━━ ⠀ ⠀ pronounces velvety, without looking at the man's sharp features. ⠀ ⠀ ━━, it is not the best time to start an altercation with Damian precisely at his first gala after being dead for a long time ⠀ ━━ ⠀ ⠀ he smiles, it is disturbing that the gesture feels rigid and cannot be reached reflected in his attractive look. ⠀ briefly feeling uncomfortable by the heaviness in the center of his torso, pushing away the emotion before vibrating with pure warmth. ⠀ ⠀ ━━. There just has to be a reason for it. . . Inexplicable socialization with Miss White.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ a subtle "Mmm" comes out of Tim Drake's throat, he crosses his arms over his chest and analyzes even the slightest reaction on the expressionless face of young Wayne - Al Ghul. ⠀ it was the female's charming smile that attracts the attention of all the members of the Wayne family ⠀⠀ ❪even if the patriarch is busy talking to people he knows❫ ⠀⠀ and they briefly ignore their surroundings, the bustle enters the A hurried room, the party for an unknown reason gets out of control when they recognize the mature features ⠀⠀ ❪so sharp and well defined❫ ⠀⠀ of the young man next to the thin figure of Lady White. ⠀ they think carefully ⠀⠀ ❪they are loud and do not consider themselves rude because of the noise❫ ⠀⠀ which is hopelessly similar to that of the biological son that Bruce Wayne declared dead years ago. ⠀ The boredom previously drawn on the Demon's face is overshadowed by something indescribable just an instant after stretching out the palm of his hand and caressing a pair of brown locks that fall softly along Becca White's cheekbones, the emerald shines when contact is made. with the tiny hand ⠀⠀❪compared to the thickness and length of his own❫ ⠀⠀ and pulls it: Damian knows in detail what he is doing without saying anything else, he walks backwards and without wasting any more time stretches his arm sheathed in the distinguished evening dress ⠀⠀ ❪made to measure, enriched in expensive and comfortable fabrics❫ ⠀⠀ until it tangled against the small waist, its purpose was not to let it go for a long time. ⠀ They saw it when they exchanged glances, so evident by the imperceptible smile framed in their slightly thick lips.

⠀⠀⠀ a dance before dropping the bomb that revolutionized the lives of absolutely everyone.

⠀⠀𓇼⠀⠀⠀⠀𝈺⠀⠀⠀⠀okay, I have to say that I never thought about translating fantasize because, mainly, I published it not so long ago and I haven't even started writing the first "encounter" yet, however, I think it's better to do it at the same time so as not to have to publish everything at once. hit and no, of course not.

apart from the fact that my friend suggested I translate it, I said: well, I don't lose anything. likewise, I am very sorry that the translation is complete shit, when I learn English I swear by everything I love most that I will improve the translation, until then, sorry.

this fic or book (yes, book on other platforms) is published in Spanish on Ao3 in my R3DHOODLUST account and on Wattpad with the same username as my blog (but in all caps, and the book is better decorated) anyway, just for people who want to see it or who speak Spanish to improve their reading.

i already want to distance myself from this, so wait for more updates (because maybe Jason Todd's Venom Rage will upload, MAYBE IDK) FINALLY, then I'm going to decorate the blog with more of my things, bye bye

postscript: lowercase is intentional

67 notes · View notes

devildomsoup · 7 months

Note

Hey, I have a request. Can you make a oneshot of Levi comforting an MC with a strict parent.

If it's possible, of course.

Room to Breathe

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Character: Leviathan

Type: Oneshot

MC: gender neutral they/them

Warnings: Mentions of strict parents.

MC was beyond upset when they entered Leviathan's room. They were tired even exhausted. MC had just gotten back from visiting their parents’ place in the human realm, and it did not go well at all. During their stay in the Devildom, MC had forgotten just how strict their parents were.

It was suffocating.

It felt like no matter what they did, they always did something wrong. It felt like they would forever be stuck under their parents' thumb and it hurt to think about it.

MC just could not grasp why in the world their parents acted the way they did. For ages, they had tried to convince themself that it was because their parents loved them, that MC's parents just wanted what was best for them. But it was getting harder and harder to convince themself that it was true.

Every time they visited their parents, they would return home feeling drained and sad. It hurt that they treated MC the way they did. Why could they not trust MC more? MC could take care of themselves; they had proven that on multiple occasions. Yet their parents still treated them like they were 5. It was frustrating beyond belief. It almost felt condescending at times.

Honestly, MC’s parents were starting to sound ridiculous with all their demands and rules. It was getting out of hand. No, colouring your hair, no shoes with heels, no sugary snacks, no food after 8, and the list went on. What was the most devastating thing was the fact that MC’s parents still managed to push their strict agenda onto them even when MC was not living with them. It felt like there was no escape.

With a sigh, MC flopped down on the bean bag chair in Leviathan’s room. Covering their face with their hands, MC tried not to think about how disastrous it had been to visit their parents.

Leviathan paused the game he was playing and took his headphones off. He was quiet for a bit, not completely sure what the best course of action would be right now. It was clear to him that MC was not doing well, but he was unsure of how to approach it. Would it be best to just leave them be, or should he try to talk to them about it? Would they even want to talk to him? He was just a yucky- No, he was not going to let his self-esteem issues stop him from comforting MC. Not this time. Leviathan took a shaky breath and approached MC, sitting down on the floor beside them.

“Hey uh MC… What's wrong?” Leviathan asked.

There was not an immediate response, and Levithan could only bite the insides of his cheek anxiously as he waited. Had he been too direct? Did they not want to talk? Leviathan shook his, trying to get those thoughts out of his head. He had to take this slow and let MC lead the conversation.

“It’s just…. It’s just really suffocating to be around my parents,” MC finally said with a tired sigh.

“I don’t know why they keep doing what they do. When I tell them to stop, we just end up arguing. It’s so tiring. At this point, all I’m asking them is to let me breathe. I can’t do this anymore. It's too much, it's too many rules, too many demands. I can’t keep up with it.”

Leviathan nods silently, letting MC say what they need to say.

“It feels like I’m drowning. No matter what I do or say, we always end up in some sort of argument because they think they are allowed to control my life or something. It is frustrating beyond belief. All I want is for them to recognize that I can take care of myself. They treat me like I’m a stupid 5-year-old kid. I am not. I don't even know why they do it!” MC huffed, frustrated by how their parents were acting.

“Am I being petty? Am I ungrateful for asking them to be less strict? Am I acting spoiled? Am I being spoiled?” MC asked.

Leviathan was quiet for a bit, putting his answer together inside his head. He nodded a bit before answering.

“I don’t think you are any of that MC. You are not wrong for being frustrated, and you are not petty or selfish or ungrateful for setting boundaries or saying that the way your parents are treating you isn’t okay. Honestly, from what I have heard, they make Lucifer look mild.”

MC chuckled a bit a the last comment, Levithan smiled bashfully as he heard MC chuckle. He was glad that MC was at least a little less upset.

“But honestly, MC, you are not wrong for feeling the way you feel. Your parents sound way too strict. Even my brothers agree, and it’s rare for us all to agree on something. I don't think you should beat yourself up over feeling like this. Your parents sound like insanely strict normies. If they were my parents, I would have summoned Lotan on them so you are handling it way better than I could,” Leviathan said, looking at the floor.

MC gave him a small smile. They felt way better after talking with Levithan.

“Thanks, Levi. It means a lot.”

Leviathan looked at MC who was still sprawled across the beanbag. They had moved so they were on their stomach with their face buried in the bean bag. The bean bag was big enough for 2 people and MC looked like they needed to be held. Maybe Levithan should give them a hug. No, no way, why would MC want to be held by him? He was a total loser and-

Leviathan bit the inside of his cheek as he closed his eyes tightly, trying to stop himself from slipping into his self-deprecating mindset. He did not want to think like that, not right now. He wanted to be there for MC.

He got up from the floor and slowly sat down on the bean bag beside MC. His face was going red as he tried to muster up the courage to speak, His eyes were darting around the room looking anywhere but MC.

“H-hey MC… would… would you, you know like a h-hug or something? Of course, if you don’t want to hug a yucky loser like me, that's fine. I'm not going to get angry or anything if you say no,” the last part of the sentence was said almost too fast for MC to register what he was saying.

MC moved their head so they could look at Levithan.

“Yeah… a hug sounds nice…”

After hearing MC’s answer, Leviathan shakily wrapped his arms around MC. It was hard for him to believe he was doing it. In the beginning, MC could barely feel Leviathan's arms, but after a bit of time, it seemed like the Avatar of Envy finally managed to gather the courage to hold them tight. It was nice, it was really, really nice. It felt like MC could finally breathe like the normal suffocating feeling their parents usually left them with was gone. While in Leviathan’s embrace, nothing bad could touch MC.

“This was just what I needed, Levi, thank you.”

“No problem… I-it’s nice for me too, you know.”

Leviathan was noticeably less nervous now. He had gotten used to holding MC, so it did not seem so scary anymore. He actually found himself wondering why in the world he had been so scared of doing it to begin with.

“MC if you ever feel suffocated by your parents, you can always come to me. I don’t mind, I’m willing to listen no matter how small it might be… You always listen to me when I need to ramble, so I want to return the favour.”

MC smiled it was rare for Levithan to get out of his shell like this they knew it took a lot of energy for him to do so. The fact that he used the energy to make MC feel better was heartwarming. MC turned around in Levithan’s arms, so they were facing him and gently used their finger to put a lock of Levithan’s hair behind his ear.

“Thank you, Levi, it means the world.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me mc #obey me gn!reader #obey me gn!mc #obey me leviathan #obey me writing #obey me oneshot

79 notes · View notes

hugmekenobi · 9 months

Text

S2: The Bad Batch (5)

Chapter Five: Entombed

Gif by @tommy-millers

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: A proposed mission by Phee interrupts a planned break for you and Hunter and this mission is anything but relaxing.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: I make up a timeline, fluff and the slight awkwardness that comes with these fools figuring out relationship stuff, canon-typical violence, couple brief instances of mild innuendo, kissing, Phee gets a bit of a hard time (will not be a consistent theme), mild injury mention/description

Word Count: 7.7K

Author's notes: Another one done! Appreciate the patience, I had a few days of just feeling really tired which threw off the schedule a bit lol but hope y'all enjoy! Excited to start work on Ch6!

“Can I ask you something?”

You stopped absentmindedly browsing the various stalls and narrowed your eyes at the man whose hand was currently intertwined with yours. “Why do you sound nervous?”

“Probably because I’m going to make a mess of this.” He mumbled self-consciously.

You continued to look at him sceptically as you began to walk back to Cid’s parlour. The two of you had wanted a bit of time to yourselves whilst you were free from any missions and had decided to grab some time away. You all suspected the shortage of work came from a petty Cid who didn’t take too kindly to Hunter ensuring that she stopped any further cutbacks on the shares she granted you all.

In a weird way, it had a small silver lining. Wrecker and Omega now had some free time and were running an errand of the scavenging variety for Tech and there had been some time to do something just the two of you. Of course, credits were short, so it took the form of just a casual wander around, but you didn’t mind it at all.

“You know that new hotel that just opened up?” Hunter continued.

“The one that looks too nice for a place like this and is cash only and most definitely a front for money laundering?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?”

“Well… we’re not on a mission… and uh I figured we could use the time off to get some proper time away with um just the two of us. What do you think?”

Of all the things for him to suggest, you wouldn’t have guess that. You turned and gave him a broad smile. “I’d love to!”

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, his face brightening.

“Yeah!” You confirmed happily and you gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “But what’s the real occasion? Usually booking time on the Marauder works just fine and you don’t get all nervous asking for it. Spill.”

Hunter looked away from you for a moment and rubbed the side of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know, it’s stupid really.”

“Hunter, I promise I will not think it is stupid. Tell me.” You prompted gently.

Hunter cleared his throat. “I had thought it could be a kinda belated six-month anniversary type… thing….” He trailed off as he awaited your reaction, but you gave nothing away. He hesitated for a moment, taking your silence as a sign he’d gotten something wrong. “That’s a thing people do, right? People who aren’t in our particular situation I mean.”

Your knowledge on the subject was just as limited as his but you loved that he was saying it. The thought had crossed your mind, but you hadn’t expected anything, the cards just hadn’t been dealt in your favour. Until now. Evidently you were silent in your appreciation for too long because Hunter started backtracking.

“I’m sorry I missed the actual day and um things have been a bit hectic, we can just forget the whole thing and move on. We don’t have-” Your finger on his lips interrupted his ramble.

You didn’t think it was possible to love him more yet somehow seeing him pushing himself out of his normal comfort zone for something like this made it possible. “What you have just offered is incredibly sweet and thoughtful. I had just never considered it as possibility given our rather hectic schedule and I didn’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on things. Also, with regards to the date, that’s flexible given the uh other events that day brought.” You said uneasily before you wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled into him as the two of you continued your stroll. “I love you. It sounds perfect.”

“Good.” Hunter replied softly. He’d pushed his comfort zone further than he ever had before by bringing this whole idea up but your enthusiasm and not feeling entitled to something like this in the first place made him feel much better about the whole thing.

The two of you turned the corner to where Cid’s parlour was and started to slow down. You weren’t quite ready to go back yet. You broke the quiet first. “How exactly are we going to pay for this?”

“Eh I kinda figured with our skillsets… we… um… wouldn’t really need to.”

You pulled back so you were walking more side by side rather than you pressed into an uncoordinated angle at his side and your smile widened. “Law breaking and room service? You sure know how to treat a woman.”

“Does it count as law breaking if the establishment is most likely breaking the law anyway?” Hunter disputed in a good-humoured manner.

“Call it a grey area.” You said with a dismissive wave of your hand.

Hunter hummed and gently pushed you back against the wall. “You’re definitely comfortable with this?” He needed to make sure. In an ideal galaxy, he’d actually have the funds to take you to a place like that and to one that wasn’t involved in money laundering. Of course, in an ideal galaxy, going on a break would involve leaving a home that wasn’t quite as portable as his current one.

“Definitely.” You confirmed, kissing him once more. After a few seconds, you pulled away with an important realisation. “There will be a proper bed!”

“I hear that’s part of the appeal.” Hunter said drily as he left a light trail of kisses along your neck.

“You know what that means though?”

Hunter brought his eyes up to meet yours.

“We could actually sleep for 8 hours! Come on, when was the last time you could say that?” You said playfully.

Hunter huffed out a laugh. “Silly me for thinking something else.”

You pretended to look offended by the suggestion. “Get that mind out the gutter, Sergeant.” You nudged past him and made your way towards the steps that led down to Cid’s. But yes, we gotta earn those 8 hours after all.

Hunter caught up to you and grabbed you and playfully imparted a series of quick kisses on your neck whilst he tickled your sides.

You couldn’t help laughs that left you and you batted his hands away. The good-natured fun swiftly evaporated as you both saw Phee sitting in the parlour entertaining Bolo and Ketch.

You both shared a look of mild irritation. You hadn’t really warmed to the pirate yet, the only thing she had going for her right now was she seemed good with Omega, and you sensed good vibes between her and Tech. The two of you walked over to the bar counter where Echo and Tech were sitting. You tuned into the story she was telling Cid’s two regulars.

“I had no choice but to fend off the Octomorph. Bare-handed.”

You rolled your eyes at the familiar tale and wondered which parts would receive embellishment this time whilst Bolo and Ketch released gasps of admiration.

“This story changes every time she tells it.” Tech said.

“You’ve been listening every time she tells it?” You responded elbowing him in a teasing fashion.

Tech just furrowed his brow at you and went back to his datapad.

Hunter just sighed. “Those two’ll believe anything.”

You glanced at him. It was like being back in this place sucked all the energy out of him and any pleasant mood he was once in was just replaced by tiredness and your heart went out to him. A night away would do him some good. The sound of the door opening, and Wrecker’s laugh caused you all to look towards them.

“Mission accomplished! One compressor, as requested.” He said cheerfully as he tossed it to Tech.

Tech caught and examined it. “Ah. Nicely done, Wrecker.”

“That’s not all we got.” Omega said triumphantly as she dumped the various other things she found with Wrecker onto the table.

Tech wasn’t too impressed. “This assortment, however, could have been left at the junkyard.”

“Easy, quick draw.” Phee interrupted as she examined the pile. “Let the expert take a look.”

“It is a manifold regulator. And a broken one at that.” Tech pointed out as she picked the item up.

You, Hunter, and Echo all shared a look, but small smiles graced your faces. You were still trying to warm up to her but the rapport she and Tech had developed wasn’t lost on you and it made you happy to see.

“Thanks, Clone Obvious.” Phee clapped back. It was then something in the stack caught her eye. “Hang on.” She picked up the flat, circular object and slid back part of it. “These look like coordinate markings.”

Omega gasped excitedly, “Coordinate markings?”

Phee turned back to face her droid. “Mel, take a look at this.”

Mel waddled over and shone a light through it which turned a pale purple.

“I was right. This is a compass.” Phee revealed. “One from long before our time.”

Mel let out a series of beeps.

“These coordinates are in the Kaldar Trinary system.” Phee explained.

Tech entered the name into his datapad. “I have no record of that system.”

“Because the best treasures aren’t usually found on maps.”

“There’s treasure there?!” Omega asked eagerly.

“Without a doubt.” Phee replied. “This compass is a rare find. You’ve got a good eye.” She complimented the young girl.

Hunter’s attention had become more focused on what Phee was saying and he was studying Omega’s reaction to it. He had a sinking feeling that a dangerous and unpredictable mission was heading his way and sure enough, Omega turned around with the enthusiastic request.

“Let’s go check it out. You heard Phee.”

“She says a lot of things.” He replied reservedly as he crossed his arms.

“I can go alone and take the spoils for myself. Or we go together and split it 50-50.” Phee offered as she put her arm around Omega and handed her the compass.

“Please, Hunter. What if there really is treasure there?” Omega asked keenly,

“Yeah. We’re not on a mission.” Wrecker added.

“It could be fun.” Omega said by means to convince him.

“The last time we went after treasure, it didn’t go as planned.” Echo countered.

“Yeah, I’m with Echo on that.” You agreed.

“You weren’t working with a professional then.” Phee said confidently.

“Right. ‘Professional.’” You grumbled with a scoff.

Phee ignored you and kept her attention on Hunter. “What do you say?”

Hunter looked to Echo who nodded in reluctant agreement before he looked to you and started to point between you and him. “We had…” He trailed off as he saw the hopeful and intrigued faces in front of him. His eyes darted back towards yours.

You gave a ‘well, what can we do’ shrug. You weren’t thrilled with this idea, the thought of poking around in a place where it sounded like it would be better left alone made you uncomfortable. Not to mention the other plans you had once had but the squad came first. Guess we gotta raincheck.

Hunter heaved an exhausted sigh and dipped his head in unenthusiastic agreement.

The others began to make their way out, but you hung back as you noticed the way Hunter’s shoulders sagged as he watched them go. You placed a concerned hand on his shoulder.

Hunter appreciated the gesture and brought his hand up to rest it on yours. “What do you reckon the chances are that we find the treasure and get to leave without any trouble?”

You chuckled. “Just remember to breathe and it’s probably for the best that we go. I dread to think what would happen if we left them with Phee and Echo was on his own to supervise them.” With that, you both walked out the parlour to catch up with the rest of the group.

You and Hunter were stood in the hallway and watched as he played with his vibroblade, the sight always sent a warmth thrumming through your veins, but you knew he wasn’t doing it for your sake. Omega hadn’t left Phee’s side since you’d all boarded and she was mirroring all Phee did and you gathered Hunter was feeling a bit left out. Something you found rather endearing, but you were sure he would deny any such suggestion.

“How many uncharted planets have you been to?” Omega asked Phee as she copied Phee’s relaxed pose. Her hands were behind her head whilst her feet rested on top of Mel.

“Too many to count.” Phee replied before she sat up straight. “That’s why I need Mel to keep track of all the legends I’ve chased down over the years. That’s the life of a treasure hunter.”

Hunter stopped twirling the blade. “Don’t you mean ‘pirate’?”

Phee turned the seat to face him. “I prefer ‘Liberator of Ancient Wonders’.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the way you ‘liberate’ them is perfectly legit and the cash benefits are an added bonus and not the core reason. Only a pirate would have an attitude like that.” You said cynically with a frown.

Phee just shrugged before she faced Omega again. “Wanna hear about the time I found the Blade of Zakata Par?”

“Yes, I do!”

Hunter sighed as he sheathed his blade.

Aww, I was quite content to continue watching.

He gave you a half smile.

You came and stood beside him and gently pushed your hip into his. You okay?

Hunter indicated over to where Omega was staring wide eyed at Phee as she told her story. “Just don’t really want Omega getting caught up in all that. We still don’t really know her or how trustworthy she is.” He kept his voice low.

“Yeah, I don’t like her all that much either, but we haven’t exactly been amazing role models in terms of the ways to make a living department. Are you sure there isn’t more to it than simple distrust?” You whispered.

Hunter tilted his head at you. “Like what?”

“She looks up to you and now there’s someone else who is getting her attention.”

“She looks up to all of us.” Hunter deflected.

You gave him a pointed look. “Hunter, you know your relationship with her is different.”

Hunter let out a heavy breath. He wouldn’t quite admit to being jealous, but he figured he’d better check his attitude anyway. “What do you suggest I do? I can’t pretend I’m thrilled with what’s developing there.”

“Give Phee a chance. Maybe she’ll surprise us all.” You offered optimistically.

Hunter raised his eyebrows at you. “This is coming from you? Miss ‘only a pirate would have an attitude like that’.” He quoted back to you.

You jokingly punched his arm. “Fine, I’ll take my own advice too. We can both be open-minded together… like people in relationships do.” You added light-heartedly.

Hunter rolled his eyes before he planted a light kiss to your temple and the two of you made your way into the cockpit as the ship prepared to land.

You took in the dry, grey, and quite frankly dead, environment around you. It looked like whatever had once thrived here and been completely obliterated. The ground was dusty and cracked beneath your feet as you walked. You let Omega and Phee walk past you and you watched as Omega mimicked Phee in picking up a branch from a dead plant.

“I’m not picking up any signs of civilization whatsoever.” Tech said as he examined his datapad. “Which makes sense, considering this land appears to have been razed and left uninhabitable.”

“Who’d wanna hide treasure here?” Echo questioned.

A rapid beeping interrupted any potential answers.

“What was that?” Wrecker asked.

Echo studied the compass in his hand. “The compass just activated.” He held in in front of him and walked a few paces behind him. As the beeping started to fade, he turned around and walked a few steps forward and the beeping increased. “It’s telling us to go south.”

“Let’s go!” Omega said keenly as she grabbed the compass from Tech and ran off in front.

“Now she’s got the right attitude.” Phee commented. “Wait up, kid!” She called as she ran after her.

You released a distant sigh as the others wandered off too.

“What?” Hunter asked when he realised you had made no moves to follow them.

“I’m just thinking that right about now we would be sitting in a hotel room and scamming our way through a room service meal.”

Hunter exhaled heavily at the thought. That sounded very appealing right now. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you.” You reassured him. “If this pans out, we’ll get a better deal out of this than Cid would’ve ever offered us. I’m just thinking about what could’ve been. It’s my way of coping as we do this treasure hunt. Come one, we gotta catch up.”

You had been walking for a while and along the way, you had put your coverings up whilst the others donned their helmets since you weren’t sure what exactly would be waiting for you on this treasure hunt.

Omega stared at the compass as the beeping had suddenly stopped. “It’s a dead end.” She faced the mountainside. “Maybe we go around the mountain?” She mused.

“Or it’s telling us to go inside it.” Phee thought instead as she stared at the pile of rocks. She lowered her lantern and walked over to the rocks and slid her vibrosword in the gap in between the first two. One of the rocks fell away and she felt a mild gust of wind blow through. “Big guy, help me move this.”

Initially, Wrecker forgot that this sorta thing would fall back on his shoulders. He turned his helmet towards you first.

You jutted your chin forward in Phee’s direction. Well, I can’t do it.

Wrecker cleared his throat and marched forward and began to push the boulders away. A loud rumbling meant he and Phee had to quickly retreat back as the topside boulders come crashing down to reveal a gap in the mountain.

“Look! It’s a secret entrance.” Omega said breathlessly before she followed Phee inside.

“Oh! It is a secret entrance.” Wrecker repeated in awe.

Hunter didn’t want to linger too long so he tailed after Phee and Omega with the rest of you falling in behind him.

Flashlights and lanterns illuminate the small entryway room.

“Whoa.” Omega breathed as she examined the wall in the circular chamber you all now found yourselves in.

You looked at the wall and you could feel a deep sense of history resided in this place and you all definitely didn’t belong here. It made you feel rather uneasy.

Hunter noticed the way your back had stiffened and he gently touched your wrist.

You glanced down at his hand and then at the concerned helmet that was staring at you. I’m okay.

“Hunter, these etchings are easily a thousand years old.” Tech said to his brother.

“Older. Much older.” Phee corrected as she looked at the wall. “If I’m right, which is always, we are standing in the entranceway to Skara Nal.” She revealed as she faced the group behind her, but she was met with blank stares.

“To what?” Echo asked.

“Every pirate out there’s heard the legend of Skara Nal. It traces back to the ancients.”

“You mean the Jedi?” Echo said.

“No, they weren’t here.” You said quietly as you traced the markings on the wall, only half paying attention to what Phee was saying. The Jedi weren’t around when this place was.

Phee studied you curiously as your voice had taken on a tone she’d never heard before and it wasn’t one she expected from you. “She’s right. It’s older than that.”

“So, what kinda treasure’s in there?” Wrecker asked.

“The Heart of the Mountain.” Phee said in a dramatic and hushed fashion. “And we’re going to liberate it.” She faced the wall with the levers and shone her light to get a better idea of what you all would be dealing with. It would seem that each lever was responsible for that portion of the wall and moving them would see the smaller stone cubes with the markings on them align and, with any luck, open a doorway.

A bad feeling sank deep within your stomach upon being here. You really didn’t want to disturb anything, let alone the heart of the mountain.

“How do we get in?” Omega whispered.

“It’s a pattern.” Phee stated. “We need to align the symbols in the right order.” She braced her hands against the first bottom lever and moved it counterclockwise, but she couldn’t reach the one above her. “Some help would be nice.” She said pointedly.

Wrecker moved forward and pushed in the same direction Phee had done with the bottom one. The three symbols fell into place and a rumbling shook the inside of the chamber.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Hunter said nervously as the rumbling continued.

The ground you were all standing on suddenly spun and a door slammed across the way you came in and now your only way out was blocked.

You heard a cracking sound above you. “Wrecker, watch-” You didn’t need to finish your warning as you watched Phee push Wrecker out of the way of the falling boulder. Alright, you had to give her a point for that.

Hunter dashed around the rock to make sure his brother was okay and was relieved to see that he was.

“Booby traps. Now it’s getting interesting.” Phee said calmy as she stood up and massaged her shoulder.

“You’ve just trapped us in here.” Hunter snapped at her before he walked away to assess the new situation.

“Relax. There’s always a way out.” Phee replied breezily. “We just have to find it. It’s part of the puzzle.”

You caught Hunter’s shoulder as he walked past you. You looked at his covered face with concerned eyes. Breathe, remember? We’re all okay. Worst comes to worst, I’ll open the door and we can leave this whole treasure hunt behind.

Hunter took a deep breath and nodded before the two of you separated to continue to scan the room.

Phee caught the way the two of you were looking at each other. It looked like the two of you were having a conversation without any words. She wanted to put it down to couple intuition, but her instincts told her there was more to it, especially because something similar had happened with Wrecker earlier. For now, there were more pressing matters but her curiosity about this was certainly piqued.

Omega kept opening and closing the flap on the compass and it was then she noticed she could peer through the glass. She examined each of the symbols on the stones on the wall and found that some of them were shining with a pale blue light. She gasped, “Wait! We’re aligning the wrong symbols!” She ran up the boulder that had fallen and looked at more of the stones through the compass lens.

“What do you see?” Hunter asked her as he looked at the area that she was.

“Some of the symbols are glowing.”

“Here. Lay the compass on my lantern.” Phee directed as she placed her lantern on the rock.

Omega did so and sure enough, there was enough light being reflected now to illuminate all the symbols that they needed to line up.

Wrecker pushed the middle level clockwise to bring around the correct symbol for that row and then he and Tech pushed anticlockwise again on the lower level to put all three of the glowing symbols in a row.

The floor moved again, only this time, it reopened your original entrance and revealed another one for you to go through to continue your way into the mountain.

“Mel, note the coordinates and wait here.” Phee ordered her droid who beeped in confirmation. “Come on, kid. Time to go exploring.” She led the way and Omega fell in behind her.

Wrecker had shoved his helmet on top of his head and looked towards Hunter. “Looks like we’re doing this.” He said with a chuckle before he started walking.

“My interest is certainly piqued.” Tech mused as he kept his eyes on his datapad whilst he followed Wrecker.

Echo said nothing, he only glanced at Hunter and tilted his head in the direction of the others before he followed his brother.

Hunter looked at you and glanced back at the door behind the two of you.

Wanting to make a break for it?

Hunter grunted a short laugh. “Tempted to but no. Come one, we don’t wanna fall behind.”

You let out another wistful sigh.

“Now what?” Hunter queried as he walked past you.

Now, I’m thinking about the lacy red number that I was planning on wearing tonight.

Hunter stopped in his tracks and swallowed thickly under his helmet. “What?” He asked, his voice cracking.

The modulation of his helmet couldn’t hide the way his voice broke up. You smirked under your mask. “Yeah, I would’ve finally let Lyra give me it after weeks of telling her there was no point and I’d feel too awkward to ever wear it. Thought I finally had an occasion to fight that fear.” You sighed pensively again. “Guess not.”

“Are you trying to torture me?” He rasped.

“No, just simply keeping you informed of my coping and thought process.” You said cheekily as you stepped past him and patted the centre of his armoured chest.

He groaned and he wasn’t sure how but somehow, he was able to get his feet moving and follow you into the passageway.

“So, what exactly is the Heart of the Mountain?” Omega asked in a hushed whisper as she led the way with Phee.

“A rare crystalised stone. Some say it’s the key to an ancient power. Which makes it worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

“Sounds like it should be something that should remain untouched.” You muttered.

Phee faced you but walked backwards as she addressed you. “Don’t you have any curiosity? Instead of judging my line of work, why don’t you try and be open minded and try to experience the joy of the puzzle.”

“I don’t like messing with ancient relics. If it’s been here for hundreds of years, who are we to take it?” You argued. You guessed some sentiments expressed during history time at the temple had stuck with you.

“Open your mind.” Phee reiterated before she faced forwards again.

Hunter nudged your shoulder with his. “That you taking your own advice?” He teased.

“Shut up.” You grumbled. “I’ll get there eventually.”

You all walked down the dark tunnel- your only sources of light being your torches- but as you continued walking, you got a cold chill in your blood and you and Hunter both slowed to a stop at the same time. Echo and Wrecker followed your example.

“I have run a preliminary analysis of the minerals in those stone slabs. They predate the Republic. Phee may be onto something.” Tech said before he realised that his brothers had stopped walking and halted also.

Phee and Omega turned around when they noticed that the rest of you had stopped walking.

“Hey, tough guys. Want to pick up the pace?” Phee said.

It was the Omega noticed the way both your hand fell to your blaster with Hunter’s doing the same. “(Y/N), Hunter?” She asked warily.

It was then a deep growl echoed throughout the tunnel and you all pointed your flashlights to the hole in the ceiling. When nothing immediately appeared amiss, you focused in on the Force around you and it was then you sense the creature above you. “Wrecker, above you!”

Wrecker heard your warning a split second too late. The creature had pounced and pinned him to the ground, the only thing keeping the animal’s teeth from his throat was the grip he had on its horns. “It’s drooling on me!” Wrecker complained.

You all fired your blasters at the creature, but they had little effect.

Hunter made to move closer to the animal, but it lashed a paw out and smacked him, causing him to fall to his knees.

You took a second to make sure he was okay and when he got to his feet, you turned your attention back to the creature which had now gone back up to the gap in the wall and was attempting to bring Wrecker with it. You all paused your fire whilst Wrecker punched the side of the creature’s face.

Wrecker managed to rip a horn out which led to the animal dropping him.

Once he was safely out the way, you all continued to fire at the creature which caused it to retreat but the barrage of fire on the decrepit wall meant that a cascade of rocks came tumbling down.

You coughed and waved the dust away from your eyes and looked ahead of you. The hallway was now completely blocked with Echo, Tech, and Wrecker on one side and you, Hunter, Omega, and Phee on the other. A less than ideal situation.

“Echo, Tech, Wrecker, are you okay?” Omega asked urgently into her comm.

“We’re fine, but there’s too much debris. We can’t get through.” Echo replied.

“The readings in here are not as clear, but I can track your position.” Tech chimed in as he walked towards another cavity in the wall. “There are small side tunnels throughout. We will navigate a path and rendezvous with you at the other end.”

“Good. Then we’ll keep looking for the treasure.” Phee said into Omega’s comm. She felt you and Hunter pointedly staring at her. “What? That’s what we’re here for. They’ll be fine. Come on. Fortune awaits.”

She’s got a thing for Tech and she’s good with Omega. She’s got a thing for Tech and she’s good with Omega. You chanted inwardly since those were her only two saving graces right now. You looked at Hunter.

“Be open minded and breathe, right?” He said.

“Yup.” You said with a deep sigh before the two of you set off after her and Omega.

You all paused as you were greeted by the sight of the cylindrical tunnel but the sound of growling in the distance was too close for Hunter’s liking.

“We need to keep moving.” He said as he stepped into the tunnel first.

You watched him anxiously. Something was off, this felt far too simple. A thought you and Phee seemed to share.

“Hang on. This is too easy.” She said aloud.

Omega shone the compass on the ceiling and gasped. “Look, there are more markings.”

Your heartrate skyrocketed. Oh no. Hunter, stop! You dashed after him.

Hunter’s step faltered slightly.

“Wait!” Phee yelled as she fell into step beside you.

Your stomach dropped as you saw the ground beneath Hunter’s feet completely crumble away and he was falling through the floor.

Hunter acted quickly and threw his grappling hook.

You lunged and grabbed onto it and started to pull. Phee wrapped her arms around your waist to help and Omega held onto Phee’s as she joined the effort.

It felt like forever before you saw him reappear. Once you were sure he was back on solid ground, you let the wire go and kneeled beside him. “You and heights has got to be my least favourite combination.” You said shakily as you held him close to you.

Hunter squeezed you tightly before he pulled away and tenderly pressed his helmet to your forehead. “I’m okay.” He said, though his breathing was still coming through in short pants. That was too close.

“I think we have to find a way to walk across the ceiling.” Omega suggested as she looked through the compass and examined the symbols above her.

“My thoughts exactly.” Phee concurred.

You clenched your jaw so hard that your teeth hurt. You helped Hunter to his feet.

“You’re just making this up as you go.” Hunter said through heavy breaths.

“It’s part of the fun. Loosen up, Bandana. You’re in good hands.”

Now, you were pretty sure your lip was bleeding. You have a free pass to ignore my advice. I used mine earlier.

“We have almost died three times already.” He argued.

“This reminds me of the time I tracked down the Belmost diadem-”

“I don’t care.” Hunter interrupted sharply.

“Ooh. Someone’s in a mood.”

“Phee…” You warned her with a glare.

Hunter sighed and spoke calmly. “I’m only interested in us getting outta here in one piece.”

“It fits.” Omega had been paying little attention to the quarrel and had instead been looking at finding their way across. It was then she had noticed a gap in the wall that fit the shape of the compass and sure enough, the compass had slotted in perfectly. The symbols turned white, and Omega turned the notch so that the tunnel rotated, and the markings were now on the floor. She chucked a rock on them and was pleased to see that it safely rolled across. “All clear.” She went to get the compass, but it was engrained in the wall. “The compass. I can’t get it.”

Phee laid a reassuring hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “It’s served its purpose. Skara Nal’s reclaimed it.”

“Skara Nal has reclaimed it.” Omega repeated with wonder before she started to walk.

“So, we have to navigate this death trap without it?” Hunter asked Phee.

“Good thing you have me.” Phee replied positively before she walked away.

You and Hunter shared a glance as you both drew your blasters and followed.

“What took you so long?” Hunter asked as he saw his brothers emerge from the side tunnel.

“Phee thinks we’re getting close to the treasure.” Omega said eagerly before she faced the door the three of you had reached.

The three of them walked over to you.

“What type of puzzle is this?” Tech queried as he shone his torch on the door.

“Don’t overthink it, brown eyes.” She let go of her lantern and traced her hands down the centre of the door and paused when she reached the bottom and pulled out a switch. “Sometimes a door’s…” She trailed off and watched as the door slowly creaked open. “Just a door.” She winked at Omega as she saw the excited look on her face.

Phee shone her light into the vault, and she spotted the target. “There. The Heart of the Mountain.” She jumped onto the side ledge and started to make her way towards it, with you, Omega and Hunter following her whilst the others waited by the exit.

You all paused on the first ledge and watched her go towards to item.

You still had a very bad feeling about all this, and it ran much deeper than any uneasiness you felt towards Phee. You genuinely didn’t think this was going to end well. “Phee.” You called out nervously. “I’m really not sure about this. I promise this isn’t just me giving you a hard time, I don’t think we should mess around with that.”

Phee paid your words no attention and removed it. Just as she did so, a disturbing and violent rumble boomed throughout the room.

Wrecker and Echo turned back towards the door, but it had started to cave in and so they, along with Tech, were forced jump away and cling on to the edge of the ledge.

The room suddenly sounded like it was powering up and it was soon brightly lit up. A large blast reverberated through it and Hunter placed a hand on Omega’s chest to keep her from losing her footing.

Everything started to move, causing all of you to make your way down towards the bottom of it.

“I suspect this is not, in fact, a treasure vault.” Tech theorised.

“What was your first clue?” You shouted over the sound of creaking metal.

“What is it?” Omega asked.

“Good question.” Echo responded.

Another huge blast sounded from whatever it was you were inside, and you all shielded your eyes from the brightness of it.

“It just emitted a massive surge of energy.” Tech said. “Whatever we are standing inside is highly destructive!”

“So what do we do to shut it down?” Wrecker asked urgently.

“If removing the Heart of the Mountain activated it, perhaps we must return it to its proper place to deactivate it.” Tech replied.

Phee possessively clutched the artifact to her body. “Do you know how much this is worth? It’s what we came for! Can’t you find a separate kill switch or something?”

“Our ship’s out there. If that thing destroys it, we’ll be trapped on this planet!” Hunter reasoned.

Phee let out an aggravated huff. “Alright. But you owe me.”

“In what possible world-” Any argument from you was promptly cut off as a familiar growl wailed out and all your eyes turned to the door, and you saw the creature from earlier was making a rather inconvenient reappearance.

In all the chaos of blaster fire versus violent animal, Phee lost her balance and the Heart of the Mountain slipped from her grasp and fell through a gap in the interior of whatever thing you all were in. “You deal with that! I’ll get the stone.” She yelled as she started to climb down after it.

Hunter glanced down after her and then looked over at you as you ducked under a vicious swipe of the animal’s paw and opened fire.

You felt him looking at you. Go, we can handle this. Just make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.

“Can’t you do your Jedi trick with this thing?” Wrecker shouted as he kept up his fire at the creature.

Your practice had consisted of the rats that graced the streets of Ord Mantell and whatever animals Cid had you all smuggling, this was a significantly different and more challenging situation. “If you can get it to keep still for two seconds then I’m all yours.” You retorted before you jumped out of the way of its snout. Unfortunately, Echo had been behind you and took the brunt of it as he was tossed to the side. Sorry, Echo!

Wrecker had managed to get to the back of the creature, and he tried to grab its leg, but it kicked him hard in the chest and he was thrown into one of the windows, the glass cracking on impact.

You and Omega focused your fire as you shielded Tech as he attempted to figure out a way to shut down the machine, but it was doing very little to dissuade the animal from its advances.

Wrecker recovered quickly and grabbed the creature’s tail and started to drag it back. “Shoot the window!”

You and Omega fired off a series of shots and the glass shattered which gave him the chance to chuck the creature out of it.

Any relief from having dealt with the animal was short lived since a loud groan wailed throughout the mech.

“Tech, do something!” Wrecker urged as he struggled to keep his balance.

Tech stared at what he assumed was the control panel. “I’m trying, but nothing is working!” He said, his frustration evident.

“Tech, the stone!” Hunter yelled, throwing his brother the object as he and Phee remerged.

Tech caught it but a particularly strong vibration meant he dropped it. He and Omega hastily picked it back up but the initial way they tried to insert it was wrong.

The rest of you watched anxiously as you felt the machine powering the weapon back up.

Tech and Omega managed to get it in, and they turned it and were greeted with the welcomed sound of the machine powering down.

However, you couldn’t catch a break. No sooner had the stone been re-inserted, did it start to crackle and ignite, and you all watched as it melted away. A series of explosions rang out around you and the lights went out and you could feel the machine start to sink to the ground.

“Hang on to something!” Hunter directed. It was then he noticed Omega start to slip away and he reached out and grabbed her forearm and pushed her in front of him whilst you all started to try and get as high as you could.

The machine began to tilt, and you all clattered against the divot you had huddled into.

Hunter found himself torn between protecting you and protecting Omega.

You felt the conflict within him. Omega first, every time.

Hunter swiftly shielded Omega’s body with his own as the machine came tumbling down.

You massaged your bruised ribs and groaned as you felt a headache coming on. You were beginning to realise that lack of heavy armour came with a price.

“What are you thinking about now?” Hunter asked as he made sure Omega was okay before he held his hand out to you.

You pulled down your mask. “That telling Lyra forearm and shoulder armour was enough has come back to bite me and I missed out on 8 hours sleep in a comfy bed because of this unsuccessful quest.” You replied unhappily as you let him help you up. And I’m thinking about the more preferred way for me to feel tired out and sore. You chuckled quietly as you heard the way his breathing stuttered.

You all emerged from the broken window and paused at the edge of it.

“This puts us at 0 for 2 in treasure hunting, even with a professional.” Tech said.

“We did find the Heart of the Mountain.” Omega pointed out. “The legend was real.”

“Now that’s the right attitude.” Phee said merrily.

On the way back, you had taken down your hood and the others had removed their helmets and the sight of the Marauder was a beautiful one.

“At least no one can ever activate that thing again.” Hunter said.

“So, what you’re saying is, it’s a good thing we came after all?” Phee challenged light-heartedly.

You couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth. “Sure thing, Phee.”

Phee gasped. “Did you all hear that! She agreed with me! See what happens when you stop being judgemental?”

“I banged my head; I’m not thinking clearly.” You argued but a slight grin graced your face.

“Nuh uh, we’re making ground.” Phee replied gleefully.

You just sighed and let her have this one. It was easier that way and it, rather irritatingly, felt better than constantly looking for faults in her ways and occupation. You wouldn’t go around calling her a close friend by any means, but you could give her a chance.

You all continued to walk towards the ship.

“Sorry about Mel.” Omega said gloomily into the quiet.

“This happens all the time.” Phee said casually. “That’s why I keep Mel’s memory stored on my ship’s data bank. I’ll have her rebuilt before we head to Vadnay.”

“What’s on Vadnay?” Omega asked.

Phee turned to face all of you as she walked. “I have a lead on a certain chalice. Very ancient.”

“Really?” Hunter said, his tone filled with scepticism. He stopped walking and let the others pass him.

“Legend has it the chalice once belonged to the Kingdom of Elweys, lost over a millennia ago.” She regaled to the group as they walked towards the ship.

You couldn’t help the light laugh that left you upon seeing the utterly defeated look on Hunter’s face. You rubbed sympathetic circles on his back. “Chin up, Sarge. Keep an open mind.”

“You’re awfully cheery.”

You shrugged. “Turns out the whole Jedi teaching of learning to let go actually has some merit. An open mind makes dealing with her a whole lot easier.”

“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll get there though, I’m sure. Looks like she’ll be around more often anyway.”

“Come on, we got a chalice to find.” You said and you took a half step forward, but Hunter’s voice caused you to look back.

“It was red?”

Your lip curled into a mischievous grin. “Yup.” You stepped back towards him and leaned up. “And quite flimsy. Would probably have torn quite easily.” You added alluringly, kissing the underside of his jaw before you walked away, feeling rather pleased with yourself. An opportunity to get him flustered was always attractive, regardless of the rather irritating overall circumstances.

Hunter released a frustrated growl and walked after you, muttering under his breath. No way would the sight of some ancient chalice be better than whatever you had been planning before all this had happened. Just before you hopped onto the steps, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back and pushed you against the wall of the Marauder, out of sight of the others. He dropped his helmet, cradled the side of your jaw, and looked deep into your eyes.

Your breathing became deeper, and your eyes darted between his and his lips.

Hunter moved first and kissed you. Tenderly, softly but deeply too. There was no mistaking the passion behind it.

You reciprocated eagerly, forgetting that there would be a group of people waiting on you both coming through the door. The kiss lasted for a few perfect minutes before the two of you parted for air and before things got too hot and heavy.

“Have I mentioned how much I wished we were in that hotel room right now?” Hunter murmured through heavy breaths.

“The feeling is very mutual.” You replied back, just as oxygen depraved.

“I wanted this break for us.” He kept his voice low as he nipped at your earlobe and caressed your sides.

“I did too but it wasn’t to be.” You managed to say through a hitched breath. “We knew the squad would always come first when we started this.”

“Oi, lovebirds! Come on, we got a legend to uncover!” Phee called from the doorway.

“One day.” Hunter promised.

“I know.” You pressed your forehead into his. It’s just right now, the opportunity is gone and that’s okay. We can just stick to the day job and grab time together when we can. We’ve managed all this time; we’ll be just fine. You rubbed your thumb gently along his tattooed cheekbone before you picked up his helmet and you both boarded the ship.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @tpwkcalli, @fuckoffthanos, @arctrooper69, @graciexmarvel, @flyingkangaroo, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 2 #the bad batch s2 #hunter x reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #friends to lovers #fluff

107 notes · View notes

vergess · 2 years

Note

you know who else i heard is an anti (but god i dont have proof i have to look it up but i heard it from one of the pro-ship blogs back in the day) b0gl33ch supposedly! i have to look up sources (keep this private)

*I spoke to AWKA on Discord about publishign this ask; got permission.

So yeah that's true.

https://web.archive.org/web/20220823023943/https://bogleech.tumblr.com/post/656561257451765760/bogleech-there-is-a-serious-problem-with-people

Basically there's this overwhelming problem where people who get really popular on tumblr for their shitposting prowess have completely swallowed queerphobic propaganda about queerness leading to child rape.

Only because most of them are queer themselves, they have to pick a specific type of queer person to accuse of being a child rapist, and they choose people who write "obscene" fiction.

Because, in their minds, obscenity is indefensible.

And so, to them, it is reasonable and appropriate to suggest that writing a novel makes you guilty of raping a child.

This is the underlying belief set that antishippers have, but recognizing the severity of their hatred for "nasty" queers would cause them a lot of pain and guilt, so as a self defense mechanism they convince themselves that it's all okay. Their hatred of queer people is okay, because they don't hate the queerness. They just hate the specific type of fiction those nasty queers are writing.

Which is why saying those queer authors are child rapists is totally appropriate and proportionate.

God it always sounds so absurd when I write it out, but that's the problem. It IS absurd. It's almost incomprehensibly stupid, because that's what cults do to you, that's how they make you obey.

They convince you to behave in a way that is so ridiculous that it alienates you from your friends, family, and peers until the only way you know how to seek guidance, or help, or affection, or any human compulsions whatsoever, is to exagerratedly repeat cult behaviours and seek cult rewards.

And then you get to this point where people who are saying, "sex scenes in fiction are not the same as raping a child in real life," are being harassed and attacked and driven to suicide or assaulted until they are hospitalized...

And it all just sounds so fucking insanely stupid and petty and over reactive that you can't get help and you can't get out.

So yeah, anyway, Bogleech is a member of the cult that encourages assault, murder, and retributive rape against queer authors, who call themselves "antishippers."

#ask responses #all-women-kick-ass #Antis #Antishippers #Antishipping #Bogleech #Bog Incident

550 notes · View notes

deliwrites · 2 years

Text

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕊𝕝𝕦𝕥 // 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 // Dream Team

// DATE // 26th of October 2022 // PAIRING // DreamTeam x fem!Reader, george x fem!reader, sapnap x fem!reader, dream x fem!reader // WARNING // flirty!reader, ACTUAL NSFW PICS(sensored, tried to very in body types, it was hard to find tho), Phone masturbation, use of real names, tease!reader, playgirl(ish)!reader, sexting // WORDS // 2,5k+ // SUMMARY // George is in America, so the teasing begins as you wait impatiently for your visa. // SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part two // Part three // Part Four // I'm open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

George had just met up with Nick in Orlando. But I couldn't let him off so easily for leaving me. I know I was being petty. I just love teasing them. And with George far away as well, that just made it all the easier.

When I teased him before, there would be consequences. He would keep the punishments for when we met in real life. I wouldn't lie, I enjoyed the punishments every time.

But now, there are no consequences. I left the texts at that for now. Leaving him to wait in anticipation.

It was dinner time, so I strut into the kitchen. Waiting patiently for one of them to call me. They promised they would once they had all met up. While in the middle of mixing pancake batter, my phone started ringing.

💚 Clay 💚

Clay was calling me. With a giddy smile, I pick up. Turning on my cam for them.

"Hey, cuties!" I call out. Setting up my phone, so I could continue mixing the batter.

"Hey Y/n," the three of them call back.

"What are you wearing?" Nick sounds confused, making me stop mixing. Looking down at myself.

"I'm just wearing shorts and a crop top," I chuckle. "How does that confuse you? Do I not look cute?" I pout.

"You always look cute, Y/n/n," Clay says and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Clay," with a prideful smile I continue mixing.

"Whatcha making?" George asks.

"Pancakes, but let's stop talking about me," I stick out my tongue. "How was the meet-up? Tell me everything!"

"Well, first," George starts. "I got so lost in the airport," He chuckles, continuing his story, while I turn away from my phone for just a minute. Putting down the mixing bowl, I grab a ladle, placing it by the stove next to my phone.

"All you had to do was follow the signs, and you manage to get lost," Clay bullies George, I can picture him rolling his eyes. Though, I can't see it. My back is still facing my phone when I bend over. Shamelessly putting my ass on display for them, a tiny smirk playing on my lips. To my surprise, they stay silent as I grab the frying pan. Coming back up, I turned swiftly back to the stove. Wishing I knew what faces they were pulling right now.

"And then what?" I ask.

"Right, uhm, yes, then I got escorted by staff. They had heard that there would be a lot of commotion at the airport. So that was nice," George chuckles. "After getting my luggage, I found Nick. He had bought a stupid whiteboard-"

"Ha-ha-ha, at least I got something with your name written on it," Nick cuts him off. "But anyways, we then safely got to the car. Drove home, and I kid you not. These two were nervous as hell," he chuckles as the other two protest his claim. Making me giggle at the banter. Filling the heated pan with butter, waiting for it to melt.

"I think, I'll go ahead and believe Nick," I point my spatula at my phone, laughing cause I could already picture George looking offended. Clay probably too but I had no idea what he looked like.

"Clay was literally a bouncing ball in the house. He was nervous and excited," Nick continues. "George was nervous and very giddy."

"I'm not surprised," I smiled, pouring in the first amount of batter for the pancake. "I would be all of those, along with ... anxiety," I sing-song 'anxiety'. Chuckles coming from them.

"When you're finally here, we'll take care of you," Clay says reassuringly.

"God, I hope it's soon," George groans desperately. "Y/n, I need you here! I need you to keep me sane with these two."

"Excuse me!" Nick and Clay exclaim. Giggling, I put my first pancake on a plate. I listen to them fight it out as I put more batter in the pan. Then dressing up my pancake.

"I'm very impatiently waiting," I tell them, cutting into the 'fight'. "So impatiently, in fact, I may have packed a box or two already," I send them a grimace, before pouting. "I just wanna be there too," I whine softly.

"Soon," they promise me.

A week goes by. Sadly, still no visa for me. But in that week I got more than enough teasing in.

Y/n Hey Nick, you wanna see what I got? 👀 🧡 Nick 🧡 Of course, what did you get, darling Y/n 😈 I hope you're alone

What do you think of my new thigh highs? 🧡 Nick 🧡 🤤 Look at you, darling So gorgeous Y/n put them on just for you 🧡 Nick 🧡 Aren't you just the sweetest 😏 If only I wasn't currently walking through IKEA with the others. Y/n Have I caused a little problem? 😏 🧡 Nick 🧡 Yes, but I'm wearing sweats So, I'm in luck But I hope you know how much trouble you'll be in when you're here. Y/n Is that a threat or a promise 🥵 🧡 Nick 🧡 You naughty minx You'll figure it out soon enough

I was seriously getting so impatient. We would call every night, but now I didn't get to see any of them on cam. They would always be in the same room when they called me.

One night they were even spam-calling me while I was ... busy.

💚 Clay 💚 is calling

ignores call.

💙 Georgie 💙 is calling

groans in frustration ignoring the call.

🧡 Nick 🧡 is calling

Sighing audibly, I swipe away from the porn. Answer the call.

"STOP CALLING ME!" I yell down at the speaker. It's followed by silence from them. The room just filled with my panting and the sound of my vibrator. Very much actively vibrating inside me.

"Is- is that-"

"Yes!" I cut Clay off. "I'll call back later, let me fucking fuck myself please!" I whine, so fucking desperate for an orgasm. Having been chasing that high for the past 5 minutes they've been calling me.

"Uh- yes," George answers hanging up the phone, or at least, I think he does. With a sigh of relief, I pull the porn back up. Hand slipping back to my vibrator. Slamming it inside me with the thursts the male makes in the video.

It takes just 5 more minutes before I finally reach my high. Dropping my phone next to my head. Panting heavily, I twitch as I take the toy out. A squeak leaves my lips when it accidentally rubs against my clit.

"Shit, that was hot," my eyes widen at the unexpected voice. A voice I immediately recognize as Nick's.

"Are you serious," I mutter breathlessly. "You know what, fuck you guys, no call tonight," reaching for my phone, I ignore their protests. Hanging up the phone.

I can't believe they stayed and listened to me masturbate. If I had realised that would have been so much hotter. I wouldn't have even needed the porn. They could have talked me through it. Tell me what to do. I would even willingly turn on my cam. Show them exactly what I was up to.

I doubt they would agree with that tho, all together that is.

Y/n So, did you enjoy hearing me, last night? 🙄 💚 Clay 💚 Baby, hear me out I may have stopped George from hanging up I just couldn't pass up such an opportunity 😏 Y/n So you let the other two hear it too Maybe if you called me privately 💚 Clay 💚 Maybe what? Y/n Maybe I would have answered Let you listen to me 👀 💚 Clay 💚 God those pretty noises you make They are still playing on repeat in my head Y/n Yeah? 😏 Liked it that much? 💚 Clay 💚 How could I not? You are so gorgeous in every way Y/n What about this?

Am I gorgeous in this? 💚 Clay 💚 Is that new? Y/n It is 😊 It reminded me of you, so I bought it 💚 Clay 💚 It looks beautiful on you 🤤 Bring it Y/n I will 💚 Clay 💚 Good Cause I'm gonna fuck you in it 😈

In the next three weeks, I had multiple late-night calls with all three. Separately, sadly. I listened to their commands, masturbating to their wishes. Hearing them fap on the other side. It was honestly, so hot.

"Pull your shirt up," Nick would say. "Slowly, make them titties bounce."

"Awh, are you wearing those just for me?" George's voice is surprisingly deep. "Spread those thighs for me, love."

"Bounce that pretty ass for me, baby," Clay's voice sounds so raspy when says it. It sends delicious chills down my spine.

Finally

Fucking finally, my visa arrives.

7 weeks after George left for America. It's finally here. It arrives early in the morning. 9 am to be precise. It's literally midnight for them. Do I care? No, not really.

Midnight their time, I'm spam-calling the group chat.

"Answer the fucking phone, idiots!" They end up not answering. Huffing in frustration. I end up posting it to Twitter before they even find out. Of course, I first called my parents about the news. Mom was able to leave her job early. Lucky her for having a good bond with her boss. Dad sadly couldn't get off, but he would definitely be there tomorrow.

y/u/n - 1m The idiots wouldn't wake up. So you guys are the first to know. I GOT MY VISA!

Not long after I posted the tweet, mom arrives. She's come with empty boxes upon empty boxes. Even though I wasn't taking everything with me. For the next few hours, we are running through the house. Gathering the most important stuff that I needed to take. Clothes for at least a few days go into my suitcase, along with other necessities.

Mom spoke so lovely about this entire situation. I was kinda surprised. When I first told her about this plan she was very hesitant. She was worried for me, which I understood. I would be moving thousands of miles away. To live with three boys that I met on the internet. She had spoken to them before but for all we knew, that could all be fake.

But when she had gotten more used to the idea. Noticed how much fun I had with these boys. She started getting to know them herself. She obviously knew George, but Nick and Clay were an entirely different story. She basically did an entire background check on them. How you might ask. Well, when she came over months ago, we were baking a cake for dad's birthday. While we were busy, they ended up calling. I was going to decline, but she told me to answer them. I couldn't even get a word in before she went ahead. Introducing herself and immediately asking questions. It overwhelmed them a bit, but they too understood the concern. They promised her they would take good care of me. Which that helped my mom calm down from her own worries.

"Have you booked a flight yet, then?" she asks me. We were currently in my bedroom. Throwing clothes, either on the bed or into a suitcase. Mom was folding them neatly, while I decided which went where.

"No, not yet," I tell her. Throwing a beautiful sundress into my suitcase.

"Hun, you should wear it on the day of the flight," she says, taking the dress out of the suitcase. "You'll make them swoon," she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

"Mom!" I gasp, giggling at her actions. "They are just friends," she hums like she doesn't believe me. Putting the dress back on a hanger. She stands up and hangs it on the closet door.

"I still think you should wear it."

"Alright, I'll wear it," I give in with a fake annoyed sigh. "But, yeah, I haven't booked a flight yet. I need them to be awake for that. They need to be able to pick me up."

"And they still haven't called back yet?" she asks.

"No, they are probably stil-" my sentence is cut short when my phone starts to ring. My mom is quicker than me. Grabbing my phone from the bed. She answers the call, putting it on speaker.

"Well, good morning Nick, did you have a nice sleep?" she asks kindly, having read his name on the contact. Though I can't help but giggle. Already imagining the confused look on Nick's face.

"Good afternoon, Mrs y/l/n," Nick answers, soon followed by the same greeting from the other two.

"Oh, you're all here, how wonderful," Mom talks with delight. "Did you hear the news yet?"

"Ah, no, we just woke up," Clay answers.

"What the news," George asks curiously.

"Oh, George dear, it's so good to hear your voice," I palm my face, which she notices. "Anyways, my daughter dearest has finally received her visa."

"Really!?" Clay's voice is filled with disbelief but excitement.

"Yes, I can't believe you guys ignored my calls," I pout, not that they could see.

"We're sorry," Nick apologizes sincerely. "Who else have you told?"

"Twitter," my mom answers quickly. Almost rubbing in the disappointment she has on my behalf. George audibly sucks in a breath. "But it's alright, as long as you promise to take good care of my angel."

"We promise! 100%," Clay promises wholeheartedly. "Cros my heart and hope to die."

"Good," she says sternly. "Now, I'll give you my daughter. You guys can go discuss a flight," she hands me my phone, standing up from the bed. "I'll be in the kitchen making us some tea, alright?"

"Thanks, mom," I smile, sending her a kiss as she leaves.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, closing my bedroom door behind her. Taking the phone off speaker, I put it against my ear.

"Surprise," I tell them. The line is instantly filled with chaotic screams. They are talking over each other. Here and there I can catch onto a few sentences.

"George, go look up flights," Nick.

"Her room is not ready!" Clay exclaims.

"8pm flight?" George.

"Guys, calm down," I giggle. The screams slowly coming to a stop. "Look, I'm not packed. Mom is a big help and my suitcases are almost ready. But I still have my entire setup to pack and organize for safe shipping-"

"Don't worry about your setup," Clay cuts me off. "We'll get you a new one here."

"I- Clay, that's going to cost me a fortune."

"Y/n, I said we. It's going to be fine. All you have to worry about is the flight. Anything else that does not hold important value to you. We can buy here."

"I-," I huff a sigh, contemplating as I look around my room. "I need to go through more of my stuff first. Can I call you guys back at like, dinner time, my time?"

"Of course, take your time. We'll be one call away at any time-"

"Beside midnight for some reason," I cut Nick off, fake annoyance lacing my voice.

"We said we were sorry!" George says making me giggle.

"I know, I'll talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Yes, good luck packing. If you have any questions on what you do or don't have to bring, just message us okay?"

"I will, see you soon," I grin before hanging up. A content sigh leaving my lips. It's finally happening.

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

// SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part two // Part three // Part Four // I'm open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

302 notes · View notes

civilization-illstayrighthere · 6 months

Note

143, 10, 20 - whoever fits the bill c:

143. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” “Only because it clearly turns you on.”, 10. “Wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”, 20. “How much do you want this?” (Thanks for asking anon! Know you sent this awhile ago so not sure if you’ll see it, but…) ( smut prompts )

Samurai-era Silverdyne, 1713 words, ~M rating

The metal door of the club swings shut with a bang. That’s not what makes Kerry flinch; it’s the following sound of it being quickly thrown open after, hard enough that it hits the opposite wall.

“Kerry!”

He doesn’t turn around for Johnny as he storms across the parking lot.

“Kerry, would you stop being a little bitch—“

Kerry ducks into the nearest alleyway. He pulls out his cigarettes; his hands are shaking from how furious he is. The time it takes for him to light his menthols makes his irritation that much sharper.

Johnny curses as he turns the corner. Standing in the open alleyway, the halogen street lights of the parking lot cast his shadow across the ground, reaching all the way to the dead-end of the wall. That’s easier to stare at then Johnny himself, his pupils blown behind his aviators, just in a tank despite the nip in the air because he had followed right on Kerry’s heels as he stormed out.

“Fucking overreaction, as always.”

Glaring, Kerry takes a short drag, exhales out a furious plume from his nose. The nicotine’s doing nothing to calm his nerves. “Yeah, me, overreacting. Not the fucker who shot out into the crowd. You could’ve killed someone, Johnny.”

Johnny stops. His momentary confusion melts away with a disparaging scoff.

“I didn’t.”

“You want me to clap? Hoo-fuckin’-ray.”

Johnny frowns.

“Would it kill you to stop being so sensitive? Nothing happened.”

This time, Kerry wants to say, but he’s still so fucking angry and he just wants Johnny to leave, so he grinds his teeth together and nearly bites the filter in two. He’s not even half as concerned as Nance is about deposits and being able to play in some shithole club again, not with the way their record sales and popularity has been spiking, but even he can admit that it was an exceptionally dumb move of Johnny’s. The gun had been aimed high, but taking out a light and raining the back corner of the crowd with glass had probably been the best case scenario for a rockerboy’s errant trigger finger. The idea of accidentally killing a fan of theirs just for Johnny’s lace-fueled power trip made him sick—

“C’mon. That’s not what you’re really mad about. Right? Admit it, Ker.”

Because it’s not like Kerry ended the set after the shot. It’s not like he made a stand and stormed offstage. They finished the show. Went back to the green room. Cracked open what was left of the liquor in their room and a few more sent by adoring fans too stupid to be scared away by any of Johnny’s petty antics.

“We should play spin the bottle,” one of the groupies giggled. She was blonde, big tits, and dumb enough to think Johnny could care about her past how good she rode cock. Just his type.

Kerry never felt any jealousy towards them; fuck, he liked having a guaranteed warm body, too. Had a handsome woman lying across his lap, high as a kite and purring against his lower stomach as he pet over her buzz cut. Johnny always liked to think the world revolved around him; that Kerry, at any moment, was pining after him the same way he did those first few months in the band.

And yeah, maybe Kerry still would’ve slept with Johnny. He was his best friend. In some dream world where Silverhand wasn’t so aggressively straight, and didn’t only get off on his humiliation when it came to Kerry. But he didn’t have notions of maybe-possibly luring Johnny by wearing his pants two sizes too big real low on his hips, playing in that perfect way under the spotlight that’d make Johnny want to fuck Kerry in the green room after, batting his lashes and playing with his hair.

He wasn’t seventeen anymore. He didn’t have some little kid crush. Johnny was the juvenile one. Johnny laughed when he spun the bottle and it landed on Kerry. Crawled across the circle him and Denny and Henry and all the random clinger-ons of their fame and talent had made. His knee hit the bottle and it spun out across the floor somewhere; Kerry didn’t see it because he could only watch Johnny on his hands and knees moving towards him, the top two buttons of his pants undone because the big-titted girl by his side kept playing with them all faux-coy. And he knew what he was doing, his hair still mussed from the show hanging in his face, practically slithering up to Kerry. He smelled like sweat, distinctly Johnny and achingly familiar from their years sharing squats and tour buses and beds. His breath, that smelled like whisky, and he only knew that because he got close enough that Kerry could smell it, could breathe it in. Johnny smirked, devastatingly mean and knowingly attractive, achingly good looking in only the way a rockerboy with dark circles under his eyes and his lips quirked in a sneer could. The only way Johnny could.

And then Johnny kissed him.

Johnny kissed him. He got Kerry breathless. He got him so turned on, a fucking puddle in his hands. And when he pulled away, he shoved Kerry’s shoulder and he turned around, and he looked at everyone in the room— he looked at that groupie, that girl that was everything he wasn’t, the one he actually wanted to have under his hands— and he laughed.

Yeah. Yeah, Kerry was mad. He takes one last drag of his cigarette, throws the butt on the ground and stomps it out under his heel.

“You like messing with my head, don’t you?” He spits.

Johnny doesn’t answer right away. Humorlessly, he chuckles. Shakes his head. His shoulders lift, somewhere between hopelessly conceding and a silent laugh.

Finally, he says, “only because it clearly turns you on.”

Kerry’s hands clench by his sides, lip curling. “Fuck off, Johnny. I’m not playing your stupid games.”

Stalking forward, Johnny closes the distance between them. Kerry shakes his head. He doesn’t want to look him in the eye. He’s going to hit him.

“Go back inside.” He says.

“You don’t want that,” says Johnny.

What Kerry wants is to go back in time and push Johnny away. Laughed at him and told him to fuck off then when he was kneeling there in front of him. Instead he stared, dumbfounded, arrested in place. When Johnny grabbed him with his metal hand buried in the roots of his hair, yanked a little, tugged a lot, Kerry went easy. He bared his neck. Moaned easy, too. It wasn’t his fault. He was kind of drunk, too. Not as much as Johnny must’ve been, to be doing shit like that in front of so many people and the band.

Johnny steps forward. Kerry steps back. He juts out his chin. Tilts his head up so he’s glaring right into his bloodshot eyes, noticeable even behind the cover of his aviators.

“Fuck. You.”

Johnny takes another step forward.

Kerry’s so fucking angry, he’s so fucking done, and Johnny takes another step forward and so does Kerry this time, throwing his weight into the punch that hits Johnny square in the face. It sends him stumbling back. Kerry’s knuckles throb.

Doubled over, Johnny laughs. When he rights himself, there’s blood in his smile; split lip, to match Kerry’s split knuckles.

Johnny doesn’t have to lunge, doesn’t have to move with any urgency. Kerry stands there and Johnny just grabs him. His chrome hand cinches like a pair of handcuffs around his wrist, a sharp point against the bone.

When Kerry doesn’t move, he just pushes into him; even digging his heels into the concrete doesn’t give enough purchase not to stumble backward, not with Johnny wrenching his arm out and upward. It throws him off balance— the wall catches his back, brick rough where his shirt rides up a little and Johnny pins him there.

Johnny’s thigh cages him in from the front, wedged right between his legs, pressed firm against his cunt.

This is new. This is the furthest he’s ever pushed it. It’s all body warmed leather against body warmed leather, no boxers in-between. Kerry exhales shakily, managing to still glower up at Johnny.

He’s got blood smeared over his bottom lip. Kerry hates that he wants to taste Johnny’s lips again. Before, back in the green room, he tasted mostly like alcohol. When he sucked on Kerry’s tongue, dug his fingers into his hair, he tasted exactly like he thought Johnny always would.

“How much do you want this?”

Johnny’s voice is all low, gravel under the tires of that hotshot Porsche he just bought and the way he growls in the mic after twelve straight hours awake on blow and whisky. Kerry wants it. Johnny knows it. He doesn’t have to ask, and he sure as fuck doesn’t have to answer; but he does, because he’s Johnny Silverhand, and he’s always been an unrepentant dick.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah?” Kerry tries, “how much do you want it, Johnny? ‘Cause you’re the one who came outside and followed me.”

The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. Like he hadn’t expected Kerry to still fight back— like maybe he liked it, or couldn’t decide either way. He pulls his arm a little further up, until Kerry’s shoulder twinges, pinning it to the brick above his head as he leans in; he stops when their foreheads butt together, lips an inch apart. When Johnny opens his mouth, Kerry’s close enough to hear the sound of his lips parting, of his tongue wetting his lips before he speaks. Slow, measured, so that every single word sinks under Kerry’s skin:

“Wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”

Kerry sucks in a breath like a gunshot. His cunt throbs.

“You’re drunk, Johnny.”

Johnny smirks. His ‘ganic hand settles against his hip, right under where his tank rode up and his pants were riding real low, and makes him flinch in surprise.

“You’re—“ Kerry croaks, and his voice traiterously thins when Johnny’s thumb rubs over his hipbone, then dips down to trace the waistband of his pants, “fuck you—“

Johnny kisses him; without an audience, without a spotlight.

#silverdyne #johnny silverhand #Kerry eurodyne #cp 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #just something a little quick as a break while writing something else… thank u for asking (forever ago) anon!#wat do you guys think… should i continue this >:)a

28 notes · View notes