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hannahssimblr · 4 months

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Chapter Fourteen (Part 2)

When my phone buzzes in my pocket I feel a jolt of anxious nausea, but still, whip it out so quickly that it almost slips out of my gloved hand. I release my thumb to tap the screen, anticipating another message from Dean, but this time it isn’t him.

It’s Jude.

A weird half-laugh half-cry escapes me and my stomach flutters. The last person I ever thought would message me, as I fully expected to never have to hear from him again, but here he is, lighting up my phone on an ordinary Friday afternoon. Curiously I open the message.

Thought you’d followed me to Berlin.

He writes. Quickly followed by a photo of a girl standing ahead of him in a bakery. She has the same coat as I do, and the same hair cut and colour. She really does look like me. I watch the little dots bounce as he types another message.

Looks like you have a German doppelganger.

A smile quirks on my lips, I can’t help it, and then quickly I open my camera and point it up towards a corner of the Cathedral eaves where a horrible gothic gargoyle sits guard with its grotesque little mouth wide open in a silent scream. I giggle softly to myself as I zoom in on it.

So weird.

I type back, attaching the photo.

Because I just saw your doppelganger too.

I’m glad that there’s nobody around to see how self-satisfied I am, smiling at my own joke.

Yikes, spitting image. Still snowing, I see.

Relentlessly.

So much for springtime. Weather in that country is so fucked.

I frown. There he goes again with that “your country, that country” stuff.

Wait, are you not Irish anymore? I remember you making a bit of a song and dance out of the ‘half’ part when I met you.

Fair enough. Weather in OUR country is fucked.

Ah yeah, that’s more of it now. Too late Jude, you’ve already disowned us. As a collective nation we’re devastated.

I smirk as I tease him, beginning to pace around, feeling charged with new energy, but then my heart leaps to my throat when my phone comes alive in my hand, buzzing with a phone call from him. I hit accept.

“Hello?”

His voice comes down the line, deep and low in my ear. “Sorry, I just wanted to infer from your tone whether you’re annoyed or amused.”

I smirk. “Insecure, much?”

He laughs and I hear something crinkle on his end. “Well, alright, I knew you were amused, I just didn’t want to juggle eating my lunch with one hand and trying to text you with the other.”

“What did you get?”

“Hm?”

“In the bakery, like, what did you get for lunch?”

“Oh, it’s like a multigrain bread roll thing. With cheese and salami.”

“Sounds nice.”

I hear him take a bite out of it. “Mhm. And for after I got this thing called a Puddingteilchen.”

“Sounds enticing.” I say, giggling at the goofy German accent he just put on.

“It’s essentially a vanilla pastry, they love things with gluten here, I try as many new foods as I can.”

“Mhm, how adventurous.”

“I’m in a very ‘trying-new-things’ phase at the moment. What did you have for lunch?”

“A flat white.”

“Explains why you’re eating vicariously through me.”

I laugh. “Well if there were any food places open I might have gotten something more substantial, right now, honestly the caffeine is just making me feel jittery.”

“Oh no.”

I walk out of the Christchurch grounds and start ambling back down Dame Street with the phone pressed to my ear. “I’m looking right now and there’s genuinely nothing to eat, I swear they’re treating this snowfall like it’s the apocalypse.”

“They always do that, don’t they?” He says, and then quickly corrects himself. “Oh, sorry, we always do that. We, the collective Irish people, a group to which I still very much belong and have not dissociated myself from now that I live abroad.”

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Okay, I get it. You think I’m dramatic.”

“Never.”

“So what are you doing today? Do you have college?”

“On Fridays I only have classes in the morning, so actually, right now I’m about to go looking for a costume.”

“A costume? For what?”

“This party I’m going to next month.” He says. “I’m looking for something from the eighties.”

“There’s an 80’s theme?”

“80’s movies, so like, specifically a character from a famous flick. I can’t just be some generic 80’s man. These people have strict rules.”

“Aha, so is this some kind of ticketed event?”

“No, it’s a house party.”

“Strict rules for a house party.”

“You have no idea.” He laughs and I hear him moving about, presumably getting up from wherever he had been sitting to begin walking around. I try to imagine where he might be, but having never been to Berlin it’s difficult to visualise the way that the streets might look. “My friends, the ones hosting the party, they do this all the time. There’s always a theme and you have to adhere to it directly otherwise you don’t get to come in.”

“Yikes.”

“I know, and really, I’m not a costume guy, at least I wasn’t. I showed up to the first party, which, by the way, was themed as ‘Wild West’, in jeans and a t-shirt. They asked me where my cowboy hat was and then closed the door in my face.”

“Wow, that’s intense.”

“Yes, but it’s all in the name of creativity, I guess. Astrid likes going to them, actually, it’s where we met, so I try to make my best effort.”

His mention of Astrid makes me feel some kind of strange way, but I ignore my unsettlement. “So what are you thinking for this one?”

“Well, any ideas?”

“Hmmm… Marty McFly?”

He laughs. “There will be at least three other Marty McFlys. Red puffer vest and blue jeans? Too easy.”

“Well excuse me! You asked for a suggestion.”

“I was hoping for a good one.”

“I forgot how sassy you are.”

“You missed that about me, I bet.”

“Did you assume I missed anything about you?” There’s a pause then, in which I instantly feel horrible, and the feeling only increases the longer he waits before saying anything.

“Well-” He starts, but there seems to be a delay in the line as I end up cutting him off with my next panicked words. “So what idea did you have for a costume?”

He laughs in a somewhat self-conscious way, probably glad of the swerve. “Well I was thinking maybe Maverick from Top Gun.”

“Typical man choice.” I say immediately, which makes him laugh. “Sorry, is that too predictable for you?”

“I can see you doing that. Wearing your little bomber jacket and aviator shades, very hyper masculine. Men just love Tom Cruise.”

“I am many things, but I don’t think I qualify as hyper masculine” He snorts. “Have you seen my cute little earrings?”

“No, you’ve never once mentioned them.”

“So I’m curious, what costume would you have picked if you were invited?”

“Baby from Dirty Dancing.” I say immediately, because I’ve already been thinking about it for half this conversation. “I want to do that curly thing to my hair and see if it’d suit me.” I catch sight of my reflection while passing a stop window and pick out a strand of my limp, straight hair that has never seen texture beyond the loose waves that remain after I’ve taken my plaits out.

“It would. And the costume, would you go for the shirt and shorts or the pink dress from the ending?”

A smile twitches on my lips. “Sounds like you know Dirty Dancing pretty intimately.”

“A good movie is a good movie, I’m not embarrassed.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you should be.”

“I can’t believe it, Evie.” He says with that easy laugh he always had. “You’re the very same as you used to be.”

I baulk a little bit, because I don’t feel in any way the same as I used to back then, when every little thing I did would make me second guess myself, every word I spoke I’d agonise over, and now I don’t feel that easy as much. Now when I speak, people listen to what I say and seem to believe that I’m interesting, even if I don’t. The Evie I was back when he met me and the Evie I am now are nothing alike. “I’m not the same.”

“Well, I think that you are. You’re still so cheeky, you don’t let me get away with anything.”

“I don’t think I was like that back then.”

“What? Seriously?”

“No, I was just shy and awkward and self conscious all the time. I was a nightmare to be around.”

I hear him pause to consider this. “With all due respect, I probably wouldn’t have spent so much time with you if you were like that. You were shy, sure, but you were always funny.”

“You thought I was funny?”

“You don’t remember how much we used to laugh at everything?”

“Yes, but I felt like I was just laughing at the things you said because you were so funny.”

“I’m not that funny.”

“Come on.”

“I’m not funny enough to carry an entire one of our conversations all by myself.” A pause. “You really don’t like that I’ve said that you’re the same, do you?”

“No.” I admit with some reluctance, glancing through the gates of George’s Street Arcade, all of the stalls chained and boarded up inside, seeing it so silent and empty for the first time. Eerie.

“I’m sorry. You’re different too in loads of ways, I was just trying to say that the things I liked best about you are still intact, and I’m glad of it.”

“It’s okay, just sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy. I seem to remember things wrong a lot.”

“Mm?” He says encouragingly.

“Like, I dunno, it’s as though the way that I’ve stored things in my memory bank is different from how normal people do it. I tend to twist things to fit my own narrative, does that make sense?”

“Like what narrative?”

“Like, I don’t know… like that I was a loser, or something.” My face gets hot despite the frigid air, and I feel I’m being too frank with him. He probably doesn’t care to hear it. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not really sure what I mean.”

“You were never a loser.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“I mean it! I always thought you were cool.”

What on earth? I was never cool, especially not when I was seventeen, and I can’t help but scoff.

He sighs. “Well, I’m not here to convince you. I’m just telling you what I thought, you can choose whether or not to believe me.”

“I don’t.”

“Damn, okay, well, you got me. You were the worst, and I hated hanging out with you.” Even though he’s clearly being sarcastic his words still kind of sting, as they reflect almost exactly what Kelly had said to me on Stephen’s night. Jude might not mean them, but someone else had. He seems to sense this and quickly backtracks. “Sorry, that was a stupid joke. Like I said, I’m not that funny.”

“You are.” I say. “Actually, your whole thing is that you’re funny, but in a slightly mean way.”

“So I have realised. You know I used to be really mean? Like when I was about fourteen, and I’ve always worried that the vibe stuck around. Did you think I had a mean boy vibe when we used to hang out?”

Kind of, but I didn’t hate it.” I laugh through my nose, and my breath clouds in the air. “In fact I felt bad for liking it.”

“Who was I even mean to? I don’t remember.” He pauses and then adds, “Which I suppose goes to show how often I was a dickhead – I can’t even remember my own crimes.”

“Liam.” I say.

“Oh yeah” He says remorsefully. “He probably didn’t deserve the shit he got. We were all mean to poor Liam. ”

“Speak for yourself, I was nice.”

“Oh come on, you were meanest of us all.”

I scoff. “In what world?”

“Please, I didn’t reject his debs invitation and leave him destitute, crying on the beach in a wetsuit.”

“You’re created an entire false narrative here, he wasn’t crying.”

“Okay, sorry now, but there’s no scenario in my head in which he wasn’t. I just can’t imagine that. He was sobbing in my version of events.”

“Trust me Jude, he was fine. He drove away from me that day without shedding a single tear. Nobody was crying over me back then.”

The line goes quiet for a moment and for some reason my skin prickles like an icy wind has licked over me despite how I’ve warmed up from all of the walking. The silence only lasts for a beat and then his voice returns, bright and easy as ever. “So tell me, who did you end up taking to your debs in the end?”

“Oh God.” I breathe. “Where do I even begin with this? How much time do you have for the highlight reel of sixth year?”

“Lay it on me, Evie.”

He keeps me company all the way back to my house, and doesn’t even hang up when he starts going in and out of shops in search of his Top Gun costume, giving me updates on what he’s finding, open to any and all suggestions I have about how to create his own patches that match the ones Tom wears in the film. I made him promise to send me a photo of the costume before he wears it out, and when he says he will I find myself actually believing him.

I start feeling a little sad when I turn onto my street, knowing that I’ll have to hang up soon. We’ve been having so much fun and then…

“Oh Jesus.” I say to myself as The front of my building comes into view, and I completely cut him off in the middle of a sentence. His voice comes back at me through her receiver, alarmed. “Did something just happen?”

“No, it’s fine, just, I have to go.”

“Okay well, call me back anyt-”

I hang up the phone and stuff it into my pocket as I march up the front steps to the apartment, feeling anger rising inside me.

“Dean!” I cry. He’s standing by the door, shoulder resting against the wall as though he’s been waiting there for a while, and he doesn’t look surprised to see me, fuming, charging up the steps towards him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #writing #sims story #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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aesteraceae · 2 years

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Lace Collar

Pairing: Minho /Jisung/Felix

Summary: Minho accidentally sends a video to Felix instead of Jisung. Shenanigans ensue.

This fic was created for the @skzseasons June event!

Tags below the cut!

Tags: heavy petplay, accidental voyeurism (and then intentional voyeurism), threesome, pre-established Minho/Jisung, petnames & degradation, face fucking, spit roasting, leashes and collars, dom/master Jisung, sub/pet Minho, sub/pet Felix, Minho is a brat, sex toys, kink negotiation, muzzles, fingering, edging, biting, subspace, light breath play

Taglist: @sunnyville36

(let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!)

��-…-…-…-…-…-…

Minho might have fucked up.

Actually, scratch that, he definitely did.

He stares down at his phone, the open messaging screen with "Yongbokie" right at the top, and the little preview of the video Minho had sent him last night.

Minho wants to break something.

He wants to rip at something that will give under his strength, let him get out the nervous tension coursing through his veins, and normally he'd go to Jisung to play but now that didn't seem appropriate.

It's probably insanity that drives his next move, actually clicking on the video just to make sure it was the one Minho suspected.

The screen is dark and it's silent for a moment before Minho picks up the phone, flushed face right in the middle of the camera, fake cat ears atop his head. The camera zooms out to show his entire body, face down ass up on the bed with one of Jisung's shirts on and a tail butt plug in.

"Master..." Recording Minho moans, and Minho hurls his phone across the room.

It doesn't crack, and Minho almost wishes it would so he could claim his phone glitched out and sent it on accident.

His phone buzzes and he groans, dragging his feet as he goes to retrieve it.

Thankfully it's not from Felix telling him to fuck off, instead it's just a reminder from their manager about the performance they had this morning.

Great.

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

What to do when your friend sends you a sext video

What to do when you maybe get turned on by your friend sending you a sex video

Petplay

Tail butt plugs

Fake cat ears

…-…-…-…-…-…-…

Felix paces around his room, pointedly avoiding his phone on the bed. It wasn't doing much of course, because his brain had done nothing but replay that video in his brain since he saw it this morning, and it only got worse when he saw Minho at the performance today.

This was weird, right?

He should be upset. Minho, his best friend, sent him a video of him moaning and pretending to be a cat, fucking himself with a butt plug until he cums. That should be weird!

Felix wasn't attracted to Minho, was he? They were just friends, close friends sure but friends nonetheless. And even if somehow Felix did have a crush on him, there was no way it was reciprocated.

The video wasn't meant for him.

Why does that make him more upset than the video itself?

Felix collapses on the floor and pushes his head between his knees. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

"Felix? Can you come to my room please?"

Felix snaps his head up, scrambling to look like he wasn't halfway to a panic attack.

"Oh, yeah! Just give me one second, I'll be right over!"

His voice is too cheery, but Jisung doesn't call him on it. Felix listens to his footsteps retreat as he throws on actual clothes and tries to fix his hair.

Jisung's door is closed when Felix finally gets there, so he knocks. Three short taps, and Felix almost wants to run away.

Minho opens the door, looking disgruntled, and Felix takes a step back.

"Come in, Felix!"

Jisung yells, and Felix can see him lounging back on the bed, the picture of calm. He even looks a little amused, which might be worse than angry.

Minho moves out of the way and sits on the floor by the bed, refusing to look Felix in the eye.

"Okay. First of all, I want both of you to relax, Jesus Christ."

There's laughter in Jisung's voice, and it strangely does make some of the tension leave Felix's shoulders.

"Good. Min, tell him what's up."

Minho jumps a little, and his eyes flicker from Jisung's face to Felix's for a second, before he rests his gaze on his hands.

"I... I messed up. I sent you that video by accident, I meant to send it to Jisung."

Oh.

"Chan owes me dinner."

Jisung laughs, a soft, giggling thing, and Felix sits down on the floor next to Minho.

"Yeah. We've been doing this for a couple of months now, but the videos were new. I guess we still need to troubleshoot."

"I'm sorry. I watched it, I know I shouldn't have but I just- I was curious and then I couldn't..."

Felix glances up at Minho and jumps, startled by the hunger in his gaze. After watching the video, Felix could recognize need in Minho's eyes from a mile away.

"Fuck, that's hot."

Jisung mumbles, and Felix looks up to see him staring at the both of them, something predatory in his smile.

"Who did you imagine being, Lix?"

Felix blinks at Jisung's question, confused, before the pieces slot together.

He can't answer. He can't. How is he supposed to explain to them that no, he didn't fantasize about dominating Minho, instead he imagined being right next to him, a matching pair of ears atop his head. He imagined them fucking each other, begging to cum, begging to make each other cum, so needy but unwilling to disobey—

"No one. I... I didn't want to be in Minho's place, I..."

Jisung laughs, almost a purr as he stands up, suddenly towering over them both.

"Oh, I see. You wanted to be there with him, huh? I bet you thought about helping him fuck himself to make a good show for me, yeah?"

The whimper that leaves Felix's mouth is mortifying, but he can't help it when Jisung looks like this.

"Be nice to him, Jisung, he's embarrassed."

Minho's voice is soft, something cool to cling to while he feels like his insides are being burned alive by Jisung's stare.

"I'm just teasing, don't worry."

He kneels down to their level now, eyes suddenly serious.

"Felix, what do you want this to be? I don't want you to be uncomfortable, you can leave if you want to."

Felix is shaking his head before Jisung's finished talking, reaching out to hold his hand. Minho takes the other one, and Felix takes some of their confidence for himself.

"I want to stay. I want to... I want that. I don't want to impose or anything, I swear, but- that video was so hot, and I keep thinking about it and I want that."

Jisung smiles, dark and intense, and lets go of Felix's hand to place it on his head. He pets him like a tiny kitten, gentle and slow, like Felix might run from him at any second, and something inside of him breaks.

"You're not an imposition, little one. In fact, my kitten over here has been fretting over how to invite you to play for ages, now."

Minho swats Jisung's side, cheeks pink, and Felix can only smile at him because Jisung's still petting him and his brain doesn't really want to cooperate at the moment.

"I didn't mean to send the video, if that's what you're thinking. I planned to bring it up in a way that didn't make me look like a pervert."

Minho grumbles, refusing to look at either of them, and Felix crawls over to him.

"I didn't think you were a pervert. I thought you were hot. I wanted to be there, helping you."

Felix isn't sure why he says it, or how he says it, so calm, but the words feel natural on his tongue.

Minho catches his eye and before Felix can even blink his back is on the ground, Minho's lips hard against his. It takes Felix a second to catch up but once he does he's kissing back with fervor, whining when Minho pulls away for a second to bite his lip hard enough to bruise.

Felix is about to pull him back in when Minho flies off of him, shoved to the side by Jisung's boot.

"Bad kitty," Jisung says, voice laced with knives. "Did I say you could touch him?"

Felix blinks up at Minho, startled and a little concerned, but Minho just seems annoyed.

"What, like you didn't want to do the same thing?"

Bad idea.

Felix's brain flashes warning bells at that response, his natural urge to avoid conflict screaming at him to diffuse the situation. But... Minho didn't seem to care. In fact, he seemed... excited to push Jisung's buttons.

Oh.

Felix had read about brats before, but he quickly wrote it off as something that wasn't at all for him. He couldn't understand the logic behind it, and thinking about it usually just ended up with him feeling useless.

But watching it...

"I wanted to discuss what this session would look like. He's new. You look like a desperate cat in heat, pouncing on him like that."

Felix looks at Minho, eyes wide, eager to see what he responds with.

"He liked it. Didn't you?"

Felix jumps, stammering for a moment before he remembers how words work.

What was he supposed to say? He did like it, a lot, but saying so would be like picking a side, right?

He didn't want to be bad, but he wanted Minho to kiss him again, wanted Minho to do so much more than just kiss him.

He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a distressed whine, and Jisung pulls his head against his leg, petting him again.

"Oh, kitten," Jisung starts, and Felix almost whines again at the petname. "I'm sorry. You see, my kitten has a bit of a rebellious streak. No matter how hard I try to train him he just does things like that."

Felix glances at Minho, still pouting, and tries to give him an apologetic look.

"It's okay if you liked it, honey. And I promise you'll like a lot more that happens. Try not to feed into his traps, okay? He's got a very smooth tongue."

"Okay." Felix whispers, suddenly feeling like a bowl of jello under Jisung's hands.

"Alright, beautiful. I'd like to discuss some things now, if that's okay?"

"Mhm."

"Good. You've probably noticed that my dynamic with Minho is a bit... Aggressive."

Minho scoffs and starts to crawl towards them again, settling against Jisung's other leg.

"I have a feeling you're not interested in something like that, though, are you?"

Felix shakes his head, nuzzling his face into Jisung's leg. He's wearing soft sweatpants, and the fuzzy fabric feels nice against his cheek.

"No. I liked watching it though, I think."

"Oh? That works out well, then. Still, I'll cool it a little since this is our first time."

"Okay."

"Minho, tell him what safe words we use while I set up, won't you?"

Jisung stands, making sure to guide Felix's face away from his leg before he moves, but doesn't offer Minho the same courtesy. He glares at him for a second before huffing and turning back to Felix.

His eyes are considerably softer when he looks at Felix, and it's difficult to hold his gaze.

"Okay, so we use stoplight safe words. Green to keep going, yellow to slow down, and red to stop. It's simple so you remember it."

"Oh- Um, I know. I've... Researched."

Well, maybe researched isn't the correct word. Obsessed probably describes it better, late nights at his laptop with hundreds of tabs open, cross-referencing and following down rabbit holes.

BDSM caught his attention and didn't let go, and finding 'petplay' only made it worse. He'd be willing to bet he knew more about it than Jisung and Minho combined.

"Oh. Well, that makes this easier. How much do you know about petplay?"

Felix is sure that Minho doesn't want a textbook explanation, so instead he just smiles and says, "A lot. I want... I want to do it."

Minho gives him a strange look, then smiles, slow and teasing. "Jisung-ah, he's ready."

Jisung comes back over to them, petting Felix's head as he moves past to put a box on the bed.

"Lixie, come pick out a collar. Minho, kneel in the center of the room, please. Be quiet, if you know what's good for you."

Felix looks at the box, letting Jisung guide him onto the bed.

It's full of sex toys, some in cases and some out, and just thinking of all their uses makes Felix shudder.

Jisung pulls out a bag, pushing the box away to place it between them. He opens it, pulling out 6 square cases.

They're all wood, shiny and dark, and Felix can tell he spent a pretty penny on them.

He sets out opening them all, revealing gorgeous collars on soft white satin, and Felix is immediately drawn to a pink one, delicate and lacy.

He picks it up, running his fingers over the material, heart beating in his ears.

The main collar is made of thick leather, soft to the touch, even on the edges. It's pink, like spring flowers in a meadow, and there's a silver ring on the front.

What Felix is really interested in, though, is the lace. It's detailed, fanning out around the top and bottom of the collar with a pretty scalloped edge.

Felix looks up at Jisung, hopeful, and Jisung smiles at him.

Felix almost cries when Jisung puts it on him, the leather feeling perfect around his neck, so soft and tight.

It forces him to take deeper breaths, and it's tall enough that it keeps his neck straight.

"Do you like it, kitten?"

"Yes. I love it."

"Good. Go kneel right in front of Minho for me, okay kitten?"

"Yes."

"Call me master."

Felix swallows hard, thrilling at the feeling of his Adam's apple against the leather.

"Yes, master."

He crawls, rather than walks over to Minho, already slipping into subspace. Minho's head is bowed, so all Felix can see is his hair. He can't resist, he leans forward to kiss him. Minho doesn't move, but Felix hears him gasp before there's a hand in his hair, pulling him back. It doesn't hurt, but it's definitely not gentle.

"A few ground rules, kitten."

Jisung guides his head down, so he's staring down at his thighs.

"Your only job is to do what I say, like an obedient little kitten. You don't do anything that I don't explicitly tell you to, do you understand?"

Felix nods, cheeks burning with embarrassment. They'd just started and he'd already messed up.

"Yes, master."

"Good boy. I know you can be good for me."

Jisung steps away, but Felix doesn't dare crane his neck to see where he's going. Instead he looks at Minho, and works to match their breathing together for something to focus on.

Minho laughs when he notices, lifting his head just a bit to smile at him.

"Minho, strip Felix down, please. Keep your hands to yourself."

Minho looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"You heard what I said. Undress him, and don't use your hands."

"Are you insane? How am I supposed to do that?"

Jisung clicks his tongue, and in a split second Felix is on his back again, one of Jisung's hands on his chest and the other in Minho's hair.

"Use your mouth. Maybe you are just a stupid cat, I can't believe I have to show you something so simple."

His voice is harsh and mean and Felix cringes slightly, not a Jisung but at Minho.

Because instead of obeying, of apologizing, Minho bares his teeth at Jisung and pulls against the hand in his hair, not to get away but to challenge Jisung.

"Minho-" Felix barely gets the word out before Minho's on his back, Jisung towering over him with a downright venomous look in his eyes.

"I'm not sure what your fucking problem is," Jisung starts, voice dark and annoyed, but not necessarily angry. "but it's not an excuse to act like you've never been trained. We have a guest. Felix is the center of this session, not you. It's in your best interest to be on your best behavior for the rest of this session, do you understand me?"

Minho glares, and Felix is sure he's going to back down, but Minho spits in Jisung's face.

Felix gasps, watching Jisung for a reaction, nervous to even breathe and attract his ire.

Jisung stands up, grabs a towel off the bed and wipes his face, then turns to Felix.

"Kitten, come sit on the bed, please."

Felix looks at Minho, still on the floor, obviously startled by Jisung's reaction.

"Master..."

Felix bites his lip, looking between them hesitantly. Something was about to happen, and Felix didn't know what to do with the mixture of anticipation and anxiety in his chest.

"It's okay, little one. Come sit, come here baby."

His voice is soft and coaxing, like he's actually talking to a cat, and it's enough to draw a whine from Felix's mouth as he crawls over.

"That's a good boy, there you go. Lie on your stomach for me."

Felix obeys, letting Jisung help him onto the bed and settle into position. He takes off his pants and piles a few pillows under his hips and Felix has to focus very hard not to rut against them, skin prickling with heat.

"Minho." It's not a question, barely even an acknowledgment, "Come here. If you act up now, I'm going to tie you up and force you to watch me fuck Felix."

Minho crawls over to the bed, and Jisung drags him onto it by the hair.

"Sit against the headboard and open yourself up while I prep Felix."

Jisung hands Minho a bottle of lube and Minho obeys silently, obviously annoyed that his defiance didn't get much of a reaction.

Minho's position gives Felix a perfect view of him while he stretches himself out, thighs tensing as he slides in one finger, and then another. Felix is so preoccupied with Minho's soft moans that he jumps away from Jisung's cold fingers against his rim, slick lube sending shivers down his spine.

"Shh, easy, easy. Just relax."

Felix whines while Jisung grips his waist, settling him back against the pillows.

Jisung's fingers are slender and tactful, and soon Felix can't even see straight enough to watch Minho.

He's efficient and fast, but Felix still feels his fingers press against his prostate on every stroke.

He doesn't even realize he's babbling nonsense until Minho laughs at him, reaching out to brush his hair, and Felix rises to meet him, straining for something, anything, but he doesn't want to move away from Jisung's fingers and he's going to go insane if he doesn't get Minho's lips on his right now.

"Please, please master, let me kiss him, please!" Jisung hums, considering, fingers unrelenting in their assault on Felix's insides.

"Minnie, give our boy what he wants, yeah? He's earned it."

"Fuck, finally-"

Minho ducks down and kisses Felix with more intensity than he could even conceive, all tongue and teeth and heat.

"Please, please, please-"

Felix isn't even sure what he's begging for at this point, brain too focused on his skin, his mouth, his ass, his tongue.

Minho moans against his lips and he realizes that he's still fucking himself, hips working against what has to be an entire fist by now.

"I'm gonna cum!"

Felix warns, brain going into overdrive at the mere image of Minho fisting himself, at the feeling of his lips and teeth against his own.

"No." Jisung pulls his fingers out, and Felix considers screaming in anguish for a moment but decides against it, settling for a long whine.

Minho stops kissing him and says something Felix can't hear, and then he's moving behind him, taking Jisung's place.

His hands are warm and calloused against his hips and he just about falls apart when he feels Minho's cock against his rim, just the slightest brush but it's there, and Felix finally puts it together.

He looks behind him and moans, watching Jisung hold Minho by the hair as he lines himself up, his other hand guiding Minho's hips forward to press inside of him.

Felix sobs, shoving his head back against the sheets as Minho fully pushes inside, letting out soft moans as he waits to adjust.

"Oh my god..." Felix whines, because he can't do much else when he feels Minho press in deeper, when he hears Minho and Jisung moan in unison. He looks behind him to see why and almost cums on the spot at the sight.

Jisung is fucking Minho, one hand in his hair and the other on the bed, caging them both in as he thrusts forward, starting a chain reaction that makes Felix's insides turn into lava.

Minho sobs, arms shaking by Felix's head, and on pure instinct he leans over to kiss him, once again desperate for contact. Minho does him one better, though, because he leans down to press their lips together. It's less lips and more teeth and tongue, animalistic, and it only gets more intense as Jisung picks up the pace.

Minho's barely even moving now, just letting Jisung's thrusts push them both closer to the edge.

"Look at you two, god. You just look so much better with your mouths busy moaning like fucked out little kittens."

Jisung leans forward and grabs a handful of Felix's hair, pulling him up to lock their lips together, gentle compared to the unrelenting pace of his hips.

"Please master, please-"

"No. Don't cum yet, little one, I'm not done with you."

Felix whimpers, shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm as Jisung releases his hair, pulling back to speed up, the sound of skin slapping skin multiplied tenfold now.

Some part of Felix wants to shout, wants to ask Jisung just how he expects him not to cum when he's moving like that, when Minho's moaning into his ear.

Minho whines and moves, sinking his teeth into Felix's neck, and something inside of Felix's stomach snaps.

He digs his nails into the sheets and rips, a yowl tearing its way out of him as he cums against the bed.

Jisung's heat leaves, but Minho keeps thrusting, stilted and desperate, but he only gets in a few more before Jisung pulls him back by the hair, leaving Felix empty and cold, still trembling with aftershocks.

"Hm, how disappointing. And here I thought you were going to be easy to train."

Jisung clicks his tongue, hooking a finger into the loop on Felix's collar, dragging him down to the floor.

"Fine, since you were a bad kitty and couldn't wait to please me, I'll just use you like a toy instead."

Embarrassed tears well up in Felix's eyes but he doesn't let them fall, sniffling to hold back an apology. Jisung hadn't told him to speak, so he wouldn't.

He reaches into the box and pulls out a pink leash, clipping it onto the ring of Felix's collar.

"And you," Jisung grabs Minho's jaw, tilting his head side to side as if he's inspecting it. "He wouldn't have cum so easily if you hadn't been bad and bitten him. So, until you can learn how to keep your teeth to yourself, I'm muzzling you."

He pulls out a black muzzle, made of thick caged plastic. Minho groans as Jisung puts it on him, tugging against his grip to no avail.

Felix can't help staring at him once it's on, fascinated with how dangerous it made him look.

His dick makes a valiant effort to get hard again, twitching against his stomach, and Minho just laughs at him.

Jisung snaps to get his attention and Felix looks back at him, eyes wide and ready for instruction.

"I'm going to fuck your face while Minho fucks you. You can cum if you want, but Minho isn't going to stop until I tell him to."

Felix moves forward, eager to do what's asked of him, but Jisung drags him back by the leash and Felix almost cums again.

"Sorry." He says, heart beating like hummingbird wings while Jisung just laughs down at him.

"Eager little kitten. So excited to be filled from both sides, aren't you? I bet this isn't even a punishment for you."

When he puts it like that, no, it doesn't feel like a punishment at all. Of course, Felix isn't going to say that.

Instead he just whimpers, gasping when Minho pulls his hips up so he's on his knees. His hole is still slicked, so he doesn't waste any time pushing inside. He doesn't move, likely waiting for Jisung's permission, and Felix almost laughs at how strange Minho was with his brattiness. Sometimes he'd listen completely, and other times he'd act like Jisung was nothing more than a fly on the wall. It was an interesting dynamic to be in the middle of, and Felix had to admit that it made him curious.

"Minnie, match your thrusts with mine, okay?"

And Jisung was even weirder, constantly switching between sweet and gentle to dangerous and mean, seemingly at the drop of a hat. Felix both feared and admired that duality, though which one he felt definitely depended on who that anger was directed at.

Jisung grabs his hair and guides his dick into Felix's mouth, still wet with lube and Minho, and the thought of tasting them both at the same time made Felix moan. Minho pulls out of him and sinks back in, perfectly in sync with the way Jisung guides his mouth down, down, down until Felix's nose is pressed snugly against his pubic hair and Minho's hips are pressed snugly against his ass.

Felix feels so full.

He hadn't been at all prepared for how overwhelming this would be, how quickly the feeling would get to him. He usually can't cum more than once, but his dick was already rock hard again.

"Tap my leg twice when you need to come up." Jisung says, voice low, and then he tightens his grip on Felix's hair and pulls him up, letting him breathe for just a split second before he's right back where he started, full.

The dual stimulation sends Felix's brain reeling, digging his nails into Jisung's thighs as he tries not to choke on his moans.

Jisung sets a ruthless pace and Minho matches it perfectly, and within minutes Felix is shaking apart, cum spilling on the wooden floors. Jisung doesn't stop, even as he screams around his cock, and Felix thinks it's a little worrying that he loves it. His head is fuzzy from the pleasure and lack of oxygen, skin practically vibrating with how hard he's shaking, and honestly, Felix would prefer this to any sort of heaven he could think up.

He can hear Minho and Jisung talking above him, laughter in their words, but he's too preoccupied to listen, too busy sucking down Jisung's cock and clamping down on Minho's.

"I wonder if I could make him cum again." Minho muses, right next to Felix's ear, the muzzle pressing harshly against his cheek.

"Could you last that long?"

Jisung says, taunting, but his voice is shaking and it trails off into a groan.

"Could you?"

Minho's head is pulled away from Felix's, and he lets their words fade out again as his body threatens to cum a third time.

He feels like his body is both numb and a live wire, too sensitive yet somehow not enough, and he sobs around Jisung's dick, loud wails only slightly muffled by his fast pace.

Jisung pulls him up and holds him there this time, watching him sob for a moment before he lets Felix's head rest on his thigh. Felix still leans over to kiss and suck the side of his dick, mouth suddenly feeling too empty without the weight, but Jisung keeps him from doing much else. Minho stops too, and Felix can feel how hard he's shaking.

"Color?"

Jisung asks, soft, and Felix takes a second to check in with himself.

He didn't feel bad anywhere, even if his jaw was quite sore it was a comfortable ache, and now that he wasn't so overcome with pleasure his body had stopped freaking out.

The only negative thing he can see is that he feels empty now, and that could easily be solved.

"Green," He says, voice scratchy, "Green. Please, wanna keep going."

Jisung nods and snaps his fingers, and Felix starts crying again when Minho pushes back inside him, mouth open and eager as Jisung guides him back down.

His pace is slower this time but less calculated, Felix can feel his hips stuttering, and his dick twitches in his mouth every so often. Jisung's close, and the moment Felix realizes this he's doubling his efforts tenfold, sucking as hard as he can at the tip and licking around the base.

Minho seems to have abandoned the mirroring instruction, hips drilling into him with reckless abandon, whimpering and shaking, nails scratching red lines into his back.

Jisung seems too preoccupied to correct him, and Felix definitely isn't going to, not when he's on the edge of cumming again.

"I'm gonna cum!" Jisung warns, grabbing Felix's shoulder as support as he cums, pressing him down to shoot it directly down his throat. Felix does his best to swallow, only choking a little bit, and Jisung lets him up right after, swiping some of the cum off of his lips.

Minho slows, whining, and Felix remembers that he hasn't cum once this entire time.

He presses his hips back against him, taking full advantage of the mobility in his hips. He'd always been flexible, and dancing helped a lot, so it was nice to put it to good use.

"Hah, look at you. Two kittens in heat, fucking each other like you can't think of anything else."

Jisung drags Minho closer for a kiss and Felix whines, looking up to watch their tongues curl around each other in a mess of saliva. Some of it falls on his shoulder and he whines, pushing back harder against Minho.

"Go on, then. Fuck him like you mean it. Be a good boy."

And Minho does.

Felix chokes on a scream, startled by the sudden shift in pace. Minho fucks with his hips, faster than Felix ever even thought possible, hips snapping so hard Felix is sure he's going to bruise later.

"Oh my god- Minho!" Felix screams, because it's all he can think of as his third orgasm turns his brain into liquid, babbling and sobbing as Minho holds his hips still and cums inside of him, a loud whine escaping as he does so.

Felix isn't completely sure what happens next.

He floats between sleep and wakefulness, groaning slightly when Jisung moves him onto the bed and moaning a little when something warm and damp runs over his skin.

His eyes open for a moment to see Minho, already asleep with a smile on his face.

Jisung slides in behind Felix, cocooning him in warmth, and he snuggles into them, letting himself fall asleep to Jisung's voice, soft and loving, whispering "My good boys."

#stray kids #sub!skz #dahlia writes #stray kids smut #skz smut #minho <3 #skz minho #jisung <3 #skz jisung #felix <3 #skz felix #!s week #writing

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

hi my love! i was wondering if you could do something to do with teacher!tom and teacher!reader, where they’re dating but their students don’t know it, until they see one of them walk past the others zoom class or something. it’s okay if you’re not accepting requests atm! 💛

caught in the act

w/c: 1.0k

warnings: one swear and suggestive joke

a/n: hi sorry this took me a little! if only you could hear the way i squealed when i read itttgvsfs i adore the concept :,)

tom’s alarm goes off before yours, shrieking at him to start his day. he’s insistent on waking up early because it’s the key to success, and he has to set a good example. you’re more of a roll out of bed and turn on the computer kind of girl. you have pretty different teaching techniques, but it keeps your work lives fresh. there’s never a dull moment after you receive school emails or attend a meeting.

you’re an english teacher, and tom teaches history. you both teach the same grade, though. a lot of your students have you both, so you come up quite often in each other’s classes. your assignments sometimes go hand in hand together also. whether it be his students using writing techniques you taught them, your students doing essays based on events he covered, you work together all the time.

you like to plan your lessons together over wine and many, many kisses. it’s honestly super fun.

you’ve got a bunch of tweens on your hands, which means they gossip. that includes about school faculty, you and tom meeting the requirements. there was once a rumor circulating that you both have your own families and started an affair. you laughed it off because it was so elaborate and so not true. but, you never confirmed or denied if you’re a couple.

“please turn that off. please, please, please,” you whine as the alarm buzzes in your ear. tom retrieves his phone with a chuckle. “since you asked so nicely.” after putting on his glasses to see the screen, he snoozes it. he then leans over and presses a warm kiss to your temple. “‘m gonna make a quick breakfast, if you’d like to join.” although that sounds nice, his healthy eggs aren’t worth losing sleep for.

“i wouldn’t,” you hum, tilting your head up to peck his lips. tom smiles against yours, you turning onto your other side. “right,” he mumbles to himself. “still want your cuppa?” he’s taken the liberty of making you tea each morning because you don’t give yourself enough time to do it. you nod lazily in response, eyes drooping shut. “mhm, thanks. love you.” “love you more.”

he makes his way to the kitchen while you head back to dreamland.

you’re awoken a little later to a mug of tea on one side of you and tom on the other. he shakes your shoulder gently, grimacing when you kick your covers around in protest. your first class isn’t for another hour. “ugh, what?” you groan at him. tom runs his fingers down your arm apologetically. “have you seen my, erm, yellow button up anywhere?” you open your eyes only so you can roll them, in a lighthearted way.

you pay tom back for the morning tea by laying out his outfits every night. he’s pretty forgetful about those things, right now being an example.

“on the dresser. have a good day, mr. holland.” you shoot him a grin over your shoulder. tom pushes his glasses up and squeezes your arm. “i will, thanks. tea’s right there when you want it.” he’s hopped out of bed to change before you can say another word. now, there’s a man who’s committed to the craft.

once you finally get up, tom is halfway through his first class. he’s talking about what sounds like some revolution, sat at your desk. you love to listen to him teach and sip your earl grey. he makes history actually interesting, recounting things like they’re one of his wild stories. even the most difficult kids pay attention. he’s got a gift, and getting to witness him use it is a treat on its own.

it’s tempting to keep watching, though you should probably use the bathroom before your class. you wait until the kids are doing independent work, and head in. tom calls everyone back to go over the questions while you’re gone. he’s usually done by now, only someone didn’t understand the last one. that means class goes over a bit.

unaware of this, you come into the room with a toothbrush in your mouth and paste coating your lips.

“no, don’t worry. i’ve recorded the lesson so you can watch-“ tom cuts himself off when you appear in his camera tile. amusement instantly flashes across everyone’s faces. you’re still scrubbing at your teeth without a clue. “um, love? i haven’t finished,” he lets you know quietly, your eyes going wide. “sorry!” you say through a mouthful of toothpaste.

you dodge off camera quickly after. it’s too late, the damage has already been done. “hey, was that ms. y/l/n?” michael asks, one of your more outspoken students. he tries to look for you in the reflection of tom’s glasses. “it’s... well...” tom glances back at you. not sure what to tell him, you only offer a shrug. he decides to change the subject.

“you know what, i’m gonna let you guys go. we’ve gone over!” he plasters on a grin. his face feels hot, having so many eyes on it. another student unmutes herself, snickering. “that’s gotta be her! look at him, he’s blushing!” “mr. holland has a girlfriend,” someone else sings to him. other kids point and laugh along.

this is all in good fun, and their reaction is sweet. at the same time, you’d rather not have your students see you like this. you wipe your mouth clean and wince as tom endures their remarks, cheeks burning pink on the screen. this is the first time he’s out of things to say.

“maybe they’re just hooking up-“ “ok!” tom yells over michael, moving his curser to the end call button. “see everyone tomorrow, same time!” he leaves the class and immediately lets out the biggest sigh. his rosy face is hidden in his hands now, you coming over to the desk. you put a comforting hand on his back.

“sorry about that,” tom murmurs, taking his hands away. “i’m the one who crashed your lesson,” you dismiss him and sling both arms around his neck from behind. he rests his head on one of your arms and looks up at you. “i held class late.” “well, that is your job.” your remark earns a low laugh from him. the hint of a smile crosses his face. “god, what are we gonna do?” you cringe at the situation.

“i don’t know, but i really need to. i’m about to see these little shits... again.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland au #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom holland request #teacher!tom

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charlies-gillespie · 3 years

Text

it’s okay not to be okay | charlie gillespie

paring: fem!reader x charlie gillespie

summary: reader is having a bad mental health day so Charlie tries to do what he can to help her

length: short to medium

rating: PG

warnings: mentions of anxiety, an anxiety attack, some angsty content (but also some fluffy content)

!! NOT MY GIF !!

MASTERLIST

authors note: may is mental health month. i wanted to write a little something to maybe help someone understand what they can do if someone they know is having a bad day or struggling with their mental health. and if you’re struggling, please know that it’s okay not to be okay and to please ask for help if you need it

Your alarm screams at you to wake up. You sigh, rolling over and turning it over. Once it’s off, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You think about the day ahead and lose motivation the more you lay and think about your day.

You have virtual interviews with all day with your boyfriend and Julie and the Phantoms co-star, Charlie Gillespie. He’s supposed to be here any minute. The thought of him knocking on the door sends your anxiety skyrocketing. Interviews are not your strong suit. You try to avoid them as often as you can, or you get someone you’re comfortable with to do them with you. Today, even the thought of doing an interview makes your hands shake.

It’s about eight in the morning and you can already tell that it’s going to be a rough day. You can’t even get out of bed this morning and you’re already feeling unmotivated. All you’ve done is turn off your alarm and your hands are sweaty.

There’s a buzz that comes from the table that makes you jump. You see Charlie’s contact pop up on your phone and you grab the device. You answer it, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on your chest. “Hey,” you sigh.

“Hi,” Charlie says. “I just pulled up to your house. Is everything ready to go for interviews today?”

With a nod, you say, “Yeah. I turned my stream room into a little studio. My streaming gear has turned into interview gear.”

Charlie says, “I’m on my way in. Can you come open the door? I have breakfast for us before our first interview in a little bit.”

You swallow and say, “Yeah. I’m on my way down now.”

The line goes dead. You push yourself to get up out of bed. You rub your face and walk down the stairs. Your first interview is in about 30 minutes and you’re nowhere near ready.

When you open the door, you see Charlie standing at your door with his laptop in one hand and a bag full of iHop food for breakfast. He looks you up and down in your pajamas and says, “We have a Pop Buzz interview in less than 30 minutes and you’re not ready?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, not being able to make eye contact with Charlie. “Sorry.”

Your boyfriend walks inside and he says, “Let’s go get you dressed, eh?”

You close the door and say, “But you brought over breakfast to eat before the first interview.”

Charlie puts the iHop bag down on the coffee table in the living room, as well as his laptop, before he says, “We can heat it up after the first interview is done. One thing at a time, Y/N.”

He laces his fingers with yours and walks you upstairs. You blink as you walk with him, slightly confused. You walk into your bedroom and walk to your closet. Charlie sits on your bed, looking at you as you raid your closet for something you can wear.

In the end, you find a Sunset Curve t-shirt and sweatpants because you don’t feel like getting dressed up. The t-shirt is white with black writing and it cut to look like a crop top. The sweats are black and loose on your body. You’re pretty sure you stole these from Charlie because they’re huge on you. You tie your hair up into a messy bun and turn toward Charlie.

“Look at you,” your boyfriend says. “You look very comfortable and very cute in my sweatpants.”

You say, “So these are your sweatpants.”

Charlie laughs and kisses the side of your head before saying, “I was looking for those all over my apartment. You can keep them though. You look cute in them.”

The two of you head downstairs. You walk into your streaming room. Charlie follows you inside. He’s been in here before but he’s never learned how to use any of this stuff.

You sit in your gaming chair and Charlie pulls up another chair to sit beside you.

“Zoom?” you ask, turning on your PC.

He nods and pulls out his phone. “The code was sent to our emails,” Charlie says. You log into your work email and find the code. The interview starts in five minutes. Your heart races and your hands shake as you type on your computer.

After getting Zoom up on your PC, you stare at the mouse hovering above the “join with video” button. Quickly, you turn to Charlie and say, “I can’t.”

Charlie looks at you and asks, “You can’t what?”

You can feel your breathing speed up as you say, “The interview. Charlie, I can’t.”

He realizes what’s going on and he takes your hands in his. “Y/N,” he says softly. “You can do it. It’s just having a conversation, okay? You can have conversations. Don’t think of it like an interview and think of it as a conversation. I’ll be right here and you can hold my hand during the whole thing. You know Owen, Jer, Madi, Sav, and Sacha will all be on the screen in front of you. You’ll do amazing.”

With some reassurance from Charlie, you nod but stay quiet. He gives you a reassuring smile before he takes over, clicking the button to join the call. You scoot your chair closer to Charlie. “Where am I looking, by the way,” he asks.

You point at the little camera in front of the ring light that you have on. You and Charlie join the Zoom. Owen says, “Look who showed up thirty seconds before the interview starts.”

Charlie quickly hushes his best friend and the interview starts. Throughout the whole thing, you’re rubbing your hands on your sweats and constantly looking over at Charlie. The interviewer thinks it’s cute that you keep looking at Charlie, but the interviewer doesn’t know it’s because you’re right on the verge of another anxiety attack. The smile on your face is very obviously fake but no one questions it. Charlie does most of the talking.

As soon as everyone says their goodbyes after the interview, Charlie quickly presses the “leave meeting” button. As soon as you’ve both left the meeting, you exhale the breath you’ve been holding in for most of the interview.

Concerned, your boyfriend asks, “How are you doing?”

“I hate it,” you admit. “But it’s part of my job.”

He stands up and says, “You did really good. I know how anxious these interviews are for you but you did it, Y/N. I’m so proud.”

A little smile forms on your face and you ask, “Can we heat up the iHop now?”

Charlie laughs and nods. You stand up and take his hand.

***

After several more anxiety inducing interviews later, you finally get about two hours off. You find yourself curled up on the couch with your chin on your knees. You have no idea why these interviews are so anxiety inducing today. You love acting, you usually love talking to people about acting and singing. You have to push yourself through every interview, you don’t look as good as you probably should for these interviews.

Your boyfriend finds you on the couch but your mind is so busy, you don’t notice him as he sits beside you. “Baby,” Charlie says, trying to get your attention. “Hey, Y/N.” You look over at him and he brushes something away from your cheek. “Baby, why are you crying?”

Confused, you say, “I’m not crying.”

Charlie blinks at you and says, “Your cheeks are wet. Talk to me.” He rests a hand on your knee and looks at you.

With a sigh, you say, “I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated that I have days where I have to push myself to do things. I’m frustrated that doing my job gives me anxiety. When I have these days, I contemplate why I’m an actress when talking about my job, while part of my job, gives me anxiety.”

He listens to every word that you say before he begins to talk.

“Y/N, baby, you’re an actress because it’s what you love to do,” Charlie tells you. “It’s the same reason you’re a singer. You love to do it. You’ll have these days sometimes, and that’s okay, but Y/N, I know you. You are the strongest person I know. Whatever’s going today, you’ll get through it. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

This is the man that you fell in love with. This is the man that you hope to marry one day. He doesn’t run when you’re having a bad day. Charlie is the person you go to when you’re having one of these days and he’ll come over to help you through it.

You scoot closer to Charlie and rest your head on his shoulder. You close your eyes and you say, “I don’t deserve you, Charlie.”

Charlie kisses the side of your head and says, “You deserve the world. After these last two interviews today, you and I are having a movie night in bed with lots of cuddles and kisses.”

“Cuddles and kisses?” you repeat, looking up at Charlie.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips before he says, “Lots and lots of cuddles and kisses.”

You press your forehead to Charlie’s cheek, closing your eyes. Charlie wraps his arms around your curled up body.

The day gets just a little bit easier after Charlie promises kisses and cuddles after the interviews are over. You love and appreciate that Charlie doesn’t run from the relationship when you’re sad or anxious. He embraces it and helps you through the rough days.

That night, after all the interviews are over for the day, you do lay in bed and you watch The Space Between Us on Netflix while cuddled up with Charlie. You’ve been like this for a few hours now and a thought has been on your mind.

“Charlie,” you say, looking up at your boyfriend.

He looks down at you and asks, “What’s up? Need something?”

You move until you’re on your stomach against Charlie’s side. You say, “I don’t want you to go.”

Your boyfriend says, “If you want me to stay the night then I will. I don’t have any plans tonight.”

“No, I mean I don’t want to have to say goodbye to you in the morning,” you say. “I want to fall asleep beside you every night and wake up beside you every morning.”

Charlie pushes a piece of hair out of your face and he asks, “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

You say, “I don’t want to call you to come over when I’m having a bad day when you could already be here. I have half a closet and half a bed that aren’t being used, plus lots of room on my bathroom counter.”

He laughs and says, “Yes, baby. I’ll move in with you. I wouldn’t mind falling asleep with you in my arms or waking up to your cute face every morning.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips and you say, “Good, because I would love it if I could fall asleep in your arms every night. Starting tonight.”

“Starting tonight,” Charlie assures you. You smile and snuggle up to your boyfriend. He securely wraps his arms around your shoulders and you close your eyes, feeling at home and safe in Charlie’s arms.

#charlie gillespie imagine #charlie gillespie x oc #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie x y/n #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp imagines #jatp imagine #imagines #imagine #fluff imagines #angst imagine #fluff #angst

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penaltbox · 3 years

Text

the good, the bad, & the parties - patrick moynihan

word count: ~2.6

let me know if you like it :) based off the completely different vibes of the two photos above.

Pat

—

You lock eyes with him the moment the door opens as he and a couple more guys spill into the dorm you shared with your roommate Emma. You smile immediately and give him a little wave, giddy about getting one in return.

You’d met Pat a few weeks earlier when Emma started talking to one of his teammates in her chemistry class. The irony was not lost on you, but you were thankful he came with some cute friends. Pat had won your heart quickly and you looked forward to getting to see him on days when they weren't tied up with hockey obligations.

He happily sits on your bed, which was open, as you sit on Emma’s. He smiles over at you again and you feel the butterflies immediately. You maybe had a small crush on him but you weren’t ready to admit it just yet. Your friends all told you to be careful with hockey boys. They could break your heart in no time.

“Hey you,” he says, a little laugh following his start, “haven’t seen you in a while. You avoiding me?”

“No,” you blush, shaking your head. You try and bite back the smile that quickly makes its way to your lips but it’s no use. You were a sucker.

He smiles at you for an extra second, only making your cheeks feel warmer. It was ridiculous how easily he had an effect on you. The conversation shifts as Craig starts to make a bet about how the next game will go. Everyone starts to wager their bets and you unlock your phone, lifting it up and taking a picture of the chaos that was unfolding amongst everyone. No one needed to know that you’d angled it just right to get Pat as the focus of it. Or at least you thought no one would.

Your smile slips as the flash goes off on your camera. You freeze, eyes widening as you look over at Pat. He had noticed right away and the grin he has on let’s you know you’re in for it.

“You have to let me see that,” he says, sliding forward on the bed as he tries to grab your phone.

You pull it back against your chest, “no, I’ll delete it.”

“You don’t have to delete it. Just let me see it!”

“Pat, it’s nothing! I swear!” You giggle and suddenly he’s leaving his spot and catching your wrist in his grip.

Instead of pulling you towards him, he sits next to you. He’s invading your space then, pulling your legs over his as he tries to pout and gently tug on your wrist.

“I just want to look. It’s probably a good one,” he reasons with you, his closeness and fake pout making you give in quickly.

You sigh and turn the phone screen out towards him, “okay, here.”

He keeps his gentle hold on your wrist and leans in until his head is laying on your shoulder. He lifts his other hand and zooms in on the picture a couple times. Finally he seems satisfied and sits up, looking at you with a soft smile.

“I love it. Send it to me.”

You blush, but nod, getting his number then and a few looks from the rest of the room over how flirty the two of you suddenly were. Maybe Pat was a good guy. Maybe you could get him after all.

Patrick

—

A ‘pain in the ass’ would’ve been generous. ‘Your worst nightmare’ may have been more accurate. You should have known better than to catch feelings for him. He was just a dumb hockey player after all and the flirting really never stopped from those boys. Apparently neither did the trail of heartbroken girls they left behind. You would have happily abstained from that group if you knew this was how it would feel.

He seemed to be entertaining girl after girl that night, letting them sit on his lap for pictures and everything, all the while still glancing over at you after each one left. Eventually you get sick of it and turn to Emma, begging her to go to the basement for a bit. It was cooler, quieter, and the boys down there just wanted to show off by shooting pucks at the net they had set up.

The buzz you had going wasn’t enough to shut your emotions off and every smug smirk Patrick threw your way when he caught you watching him flirt with someone was like a tiny stab to the heart. You throw back the rest of your drink as that look replays in your mind, a sharp ping of a puck hitting the crossbar and getting your attention. You look over at Max, who had been shooting, and notice that Patrick had made his way downstairs as well.

He’s already looking your way but he’s lost his shirt somewhere between upstairs and there. You have to actively keep your attention on his face otherwise you know your gaze will wander. He can tell you’re fighting it and he lets a full blown smile onto his face. Cocky bastard.

He must really be on another level that night because he steps in front of Tyce, taking a hockey stick from the row of them and bumping Max from the shooting pad. He stick handles a little before looking over at you with the look that seemed permanent that night. You immediately cross your arms over your chest, wishing he would just do his thing and go away.

He rips a shot then and it hits the center of the crossbar almost too perfectly. The boys, drunk and unaware of the tension floating between you two, cheer their teammate on and give him even more to gloat about. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you though and you scoff, flipping him off as retaliation.

He smirks when you do that, his ego even more inflated, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You roll your eyes, even though you definitely wish he would stop flirting and start making moves, but you answer with as quick of wit as you can.

“Keep dreaming, Patrick” you throw at him, beginning to walk away.

‘Patrick’

You’d never called him that and his ego dents a little. His smirk drops into a frown as you put your foot on the first stair. He doesn’t realize how much his attitude was hurting you. He’d never treated you like this. He’d never been anything but sweet to you. You had no clue who this was and you wanted nothing more than to run before he saw you cry as the events of the night started to weigh on your chest.

“Wait,” he says, dropping the stick and walking over quickly. He puts a hand on the railing and leans closer to you, making you suck in a quick breath.

You stand your ground and make eye contact despite the lump in your throat, “no.”

His mouth opens like he’s about to respond but you take the opportunity away from him. You quickly turn your back and start up the stairs, pulling your wrist from his grip as he grabs it. You had to go right then or you knew you wouldn’t hold strong.

He doesn’t follow you and he doesn’t text you that night, unlike he had after every other party since getting your number. He usually liked to make sure you got home safe but apparently something had changed. Maybe he was bad for you. Maybe you wouldn’t be getting him all to yourself after all.

Parties

—

Your stomach nervously churns and you find yourself with your back to the wall no matter what room you find yourself in. You wanted to be prepared when he came through the door, and you knew damn well that he would. It was the hockey house. He had more jurisdiction there than you but you were still on guard.

It’s like clockwork how quickly he can find you in a crowd and it hurts your heart so much you almost tear up right then and there. You hated how much he could affect you with just a look. You bite your lip and look away as fast as you can but you know he’ll make his way over.

He doesn’t stop in the kitchen for a drink, he doesn’t stop to say hi to any of his teammates or friends. He finds himself moving through the crowd and making his way directly to you.

“Are you done with your attitude towards me?”

“Patrick, just stop,” you mumble, sighing and crossing your arms in front of you.

“You stop,” he whines, his eyebrows furrowing, “you never call me Patrick.”

You roll your eyes, “I do when I’m mad at you. I wouldn’t have an attitude if you hadn’t acted the way you did last time I saw you.”

“Great, didn’t know I brought my mom to college with me.”

“Okay, just fuck off then,” you scoff, but he’s immediately backpedaling.

He winces and holds his hands up, “no, wait. I’m sorry. That was really stupid of me to say. Sometimes I just talk and don’t think which isn’t good. I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” you mumble, still refusing to look at him.

“Will you please just talk to me? I know I was an ass last time and I was way too drunk. I just need like five minutes with you.”

You shrug and motion to the room, “you're here now. Get talking.”

He gives you a tight smile that shows his frustration and you feel a little ping of proudness over making him even slightly upset after how awful you’d been feeling because of him.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he shakes his head, looking over his shoulder and back at you, “will you come to the basement and talk to me?”

You look at him then, remembering how close you’d been to caving in on the stairs and letting him apologize. He had your head and heart arguing with each other like there was no tomorrow and you hated to be vulnerable again with him. You’d been nice and opened up once but it backfired. You didn’t want to look like a fool this time around.

He must see the wheels turning in your head because he gives it one last shot, “please, five minutes. If you’re still mad then you never have to talk to me again.”

You sigh, nodding a little. Five minutes couldn’t hurt. Or it could, a whole hell of a lot, and you’d have an excuse to go back to your room and avoid him from then on.

He quickly grabs your hand before you can even react and heads for the stairs. He gets to the bottom step and looks around, only seeing a few other people and clears his throat. He asks them all to go upstairs for a bit and close the door on their way. They give him a funny look and you take the time to tear your hand from his. You didn’t need anyone talking. You walk away from him, needing some space to try and keep your head clear. He notices and his shoulders drop.

“I don’t know what I did that night but I can tell I fucked up,” he sighs, looking you up and down as he takes your body posture in.

You’re as closed off as you can be while standing in the middle of the room, but his words catch your attention, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I blacked out before you even got there,” he admits, “I’m not proud of it and it’s never happening again.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh and shake your head, “of course you were. That’s really convenient. I guess it’s good to know what an asshole you are when you get hammered.”

His forehead creases as he frowns and starts to walk towards you, “I’m so sorry. I don’t ever want you to be mad at me and whatever I did must have been really awful.”

“You kept flirting with other girls and then making sure I saw it. You’d take pictures with them and immediately look at me after. You came down here to show off and all you cared about was making sure you made me look stupid in front of your friends and mine,” you explain, your anger from the night heightening all over again.

“Fuck,” he whispers, knowing he’d screwed up, “I can explain it. I may not remember it but I can absolutely explain why I acted that way.”

“That would be nice to know because you made me feel like an idiot,” you mumble, picking at your fingernail.

“I’m really sorry and I mean it when I say that. I never want to hurt you and I especially don’t want to embarrass you. But uh, I guess I must have been acting out to get attention. Parker was talking about hooking you up with one of his friends earlier that day and I hated the thought of that,” his tone is even suddenly and he’s keeping eye contact that has your whole body on fire.

“Why?” You squeak out, hardly trusting your voice. You hadn’t expected this to go anywhere near the way it was going and you were struggling to keep your cool.

Pat smiles then and gently grabs your hand, “because I’m an idiot. Well, and because I kinda like you so I didn’t want someone else to have a chance with you before I took one.”

You bite your lip as you try to keep a smile from taking over your face, but the blush that dusts your cheeks immediately speaks loud enough. You have to look away from him in order to collect yourself and he takes the opportunity to pull you against him. You wrap your arms right around his waist and bury your face into his shirt.

“Why do you seem more embarrassed than me? I’m the one who just admitted they had feelings here,” he jokes, but you can hear the strain in his voice.

You look up at him, shocked at how close you’d both gotten to each other, “do I have to say it too or does your confession suffice for us both?”

“No, you have to say it. I did so you do, too.”

You shake your head but you expect nothing else from him, “I like you, Pat.”

His face lights up with a smile then that puts your nerves to rest, “that’s so much better than being called Patrick. That’s the one thing I remember from that night was hearing you call me that and I never want to hear it again. I knew I was in trouble.”

“You sure are trouble,” you smirk, trying to push away from him.

He keeps you tight against his chest though and a bit of his goofiness dissolves, “hey, hold on. Do I get a chance first or do I have to watch you get set up with someone?”

“If you want the chance then take it,” you say, surprising yourself even with the boldness.

Pat can’t help but smile then, and does exactly that. He leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, holding you tight around the waist. You can feel your lips still tingling as he pulls back and you’re met with that you’d grown to love so much. You lean in and steal one more kiss before the door to the basement opens and a group of people come down.

You step away from each other and Tyce gives Pat a look that you definitely don’t miss. Pat nods proudly and reaches for your hand then. You take it and step into his side, leaning against him. Maybe he wasn’t always bad. Maybe you’d stick around and see what else the parties and Pat had to offer you.

#patrick moynihan #mine #my writing #providence hockey #college hockey fic #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey fic #usa hockey

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psycho-slytherin · 4 years

Text

Strangers ch. 45

Your fun night with BTS is interrupted by some familiar faces.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, bit o’ trauma

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You knock at the door, your heart hammering in your chest. You were extra careful getting here – the paparazzi can’t know you’re still going back to the group’s apartment after the ‘breakup.’

Hoseok opens the door and lets you in, his usually wide grin somewhat muted. “Y/n-ie! We’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too, Hos-oof!” You half-laugh, half-wheeze when Jungkook comes barreling out of nowhere and crushes you in a bear hug. “Hey, Kookie!”

“Guys!” Jungkook calls elatedly, his long bangs falling in his eyes. “Y/n’s here!”

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jimin join you in the hallway. Looking around, you notice someone’s missing.

“Where’s…” You blink, snapping your mouth shut. You won’t ask. You don’t care.

“Seokjin hyung is in the kitchen,” Jimin supplies helpfully.

“Ah, okay.” You check the time– 8:30. “Is dinner ready? Can I help?”

There’s a chorus of protests, with the boys insisting you settle in the living room. You’re about to race for Yoongi’s favorite chair, but – argh. Why would you, when he’s not there for you to annoy?

“I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I can’t.”

You snort. Hasn’t he always asked you to be honest? Hypocrite.

“Y/n-ie?” Hoseok sits next to you on the couch, speaking quietly enough that the others can’t hear him. “Do you want to take your coat off?”

“No, I’m–” cold. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Look, Y/n…” Hoseok reaches out and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry about Yoongi hyung.”

You muster up a smile. “It’s fine, dude. Like I said, it wasn’t real.”

“Nah, just because you weren’t really dating doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I don’t know exactly who this new girl of his is – seriously, all of us woke up surprised, including PD-nim. But something’s up with hyung. He never comes out of his studio anymore and doesn’t say anything during rehearsals.”

You stay silent. You don’t want to talk about Yoongi.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you were okay? With… you know.” Hoseok gestures down at your left leg, and you flinch automatically.

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

“Hyung told me about that night you got hurt by some sasaeng.” Hobi looks deep into your eyes, his brows knit together. “We all care about you, Y/n. You got hurt because of us, and that’s not okay. I know Yoongi hurt you too, but I hope you remember the rest of us are still your friends. And we’re all here if you need us.”

You smile, knowing it won’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods seriously before scooting back. “By the way, is that what you’re wearing?”

You look down at your jeans and sweater. “Yeah…?”

“Girl, didn’t I tell you we were going out tonight? Taehyung!”

Tae pops out from the kitchen. “Wassup?”

Hoseok waves at you and your outfit. “Fix our girl, please.”

Taehyung’s eyes alight. “Ooh, yes.”

“I- what- but I’m cold!” You protest as Taehyung drags you down the hall.

“We can accommodate that. Come on, Y/n, it’s been ages since I’ve styled anyone!”

But what if I get cold? Seoyeon could hurt me. Lisa could disappear. Next time it could be my head, not my leg. I could die. I can’t be cold. I can’t. I can’t.

“Y/n-ie?” You snap to attention, realizing Taehyung is staring at you with concern etched in his pretty eyes.

“I– yeah, sorry. Go ahead.”

Taehyung leads you into his and Namjoon’s room. You realize with a start you’ve never seen it. The walls are covered in posters, photos, and scribbled notes. Unsurprisingly, Taehyung’s closet is gigantic, and you see him rummage through it with intense focus.

“Okay, so. You’re cold all the time. No dresses, then? No shorts or skirts?”

You shiver, remembering the outfits you wore for the commercial with Wonho and for the lipstick photoshoot. “No, thanks.”

“Hm… We could try…” You hear Taehyung’s voice change. “It would be good publicity… I’d have to ask producer-nim.”

“What?”

“Ah,” Tae withdraws from the closet, his cheeks blooming red. “Well… the public isn’t supposed to know yet. But I’m, er…” He scratches his head sheepishly. “I’m releasing a fashion line. We created a lot of demo outfits to pitch investors. And there’s something I want you to wear.”

You muffle a laugh. “Tae! Really? That’s so cool!” For a moment, your worries are numbed in support of your friend. “Let me see!”

“I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but…” Taehyung pulls out a box printed with KTH in cursive font. “And, for some heat…” he hands you a cropped black fur coat. “Try them on.”

You take a deep breath as you walk into the hall bathroom, nervous to peel off your layers of warmth. You open the box, and- “Woah.”

As you reach to try on the outfit, your phone buzzes.

Wonho: Hey, the commercial aired! Was wondering if u wanted to do smth to celebrate? Hope you’re doing ok. W.

You quickly text back saying you have plans with friends and place your phone facedown on the counter.

Ten minutes later, you can’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror. You feel… “Y/n?” Taehyung knocks at the door, his voice nervous. “Does it fit?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Come out, let me see! I want-”

You unlock the door and step into the hall. Taehyung stops mid sentence, his jaw falling slack. “Holy… I don’t care what PD-nim says, you’re wearing this to the club tonight! Guys!” He pulls you into the living room. “Check her out!”

The other five members file in, Jin pulling off an apron. When he catches sight of you, he laughs in surprise. “Our Y/n-ie, all grown up!”

And you look grown up – Taehyung has dressed you in a black leather bodysuit to go perfectly with your black boots. It’s tight, but not suffocating, and most importantly, it’s warm. The long sleeves and legs feel protective. The only skin you’re showing is the adventurously deep neckline. The fur coat goes perfectly with the outfit, and you feel yourself standing up straighter as the guys express their admiration.

“Shut up,” you smile as Hoseok pretends to faint. “It’s Tae’s handiwork.”

“You look gorgeous, Y/n darling,” Jin hums. “Now, if the rest of you could start drooling over the soup instead of Y/n, that would be great.”

~~~

“D, remember how you said these fangirls have like, backup accounts? Shit under a different name?”

“Yeah, why?”

Yoongi chews on his fingernail. It’s a habit his managers always scolded him for when he was still a trainee. “What about Lisa? Does she have any?”

D clicks his tongue. It’s the first time Yoongi’s seen him in person for years, but he couldn’t be at the apartment knowing that Y/n would be there with the others. “Shit, man, maybe. I’ll find out.”

“Thanks.”

“Yo, did you see that commercial with your girl?”

Yoongi rubs his temples. Thinking about Y/n hurts. “No. What?”

“Nah, I’m asking cause she looks fire. She’s all over this guy. What are they even selling, right?” D slides over his laptop, Fierce’s new commercial already pulled up. It shows Yoongi’s old friend Wonho, shirtless, muscles bulging. When it cuts to a new scene, Yoongi nearly chokes. It’s Y/n as he’s never seen her; terrifyingly perfect and irresistibly seductive. He can’t tear his eyes away as she strides past Wonho. In the commercial, Wonho lifts the bottle of cologne and raises his eyebrows at Y/n, who stops with interest.

The next scene leaves something hot burning in Yoongi’s chest: Y/n sits on Wonho’s lap, pressed against his shirtless chest, and the camera zooms in on her mouth as she leans in to brush her red lips against Wonho’s cheek. Almost unconsciously, Yoongi clenches his fist, nails digging into his palm. It’s just a commercial, just a job. He wonders if guys like Wonho are Y/n’s type. Not like it matters anymore, Yoongi thinks. Fucking Lisa. Fucking Seoyeon. “Fuck!”

D jumps. “Gloss! What was that?”

“I forgot – Seoyeon. I’m late.”

“Who cares, man? She’s insane.”

“I care. She wants to go to a club, maybe she’ll tell me where Lisa is if her guard is down. Or give me the names of anyone else she’s working with.”

“Ooh, sneaky. Okay, I’ll be online all night if you wanna text. Let me know if you find out anything.”

“I will,” Yoongi replies, throwing on his suit jacket. “And D, keep an eye on my location. She’s dangerous. I’ll keep a bodyguard with me, but just in case…”

“I gotchu, man.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. His driver is waiting outside. Y/n is having dinner with the guys. And the image of her draped over Wonho is seared into his memory.

Back into the fray.

~~~

“I’m surprised we’re not driving in a van or something,” You say, peering around the limousine’s interior in awe.

“Some perks of being celebrities,” Namjoon says with a grin. The guys all look amazing, decked out in dressy but effortless outfits. Back in your ARMY days, you would have been swooning. Even now, their good looks are a welcome distraction.

“It’s been so long since we’ve gone out,” Jimin bounces excitedly. He’s wearing a purple silk shirt that flutters with the movement. “Since Yoongi-hyung started filming and doing his new mixtape, and with Tae-ssi’s clothing line, our schedule has been lenient.”

“Speaking of schedules…” Jungkook turns to you. “I heard yours is gonna be busier lately! You’ve signed with FYP, right?”

You smile, shoving down your guilt. You need to move on. “Yep, they said they’d email me the contract today.” Now that you think about it, it’s past ten. When are they going to send it to you? You’re sure you haven’t received any work-related emails since coming out of your meeting with Mr. Park.

“Ah, almost there!” Hoseok hands out glasses from a minibar. “Soju bombs, everyone!”

You swallow determinedly. You’re moving past Lisa; Yoongi can’t hurt you anymore; Seoyeon… well, she may have won. But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost.

You’re going clubbing with BTS, wearing an outfit designed by Kim Taehyung. Nothing can go wrong tonight. “Cheers!”

And together with the members, you gulp down your drink as the limo slows to a stop in front of Club Xyon.

Immediately, you’re ushered by stoic men and women in black suits to the front of a line of people who look more famous than you can ever imagine. “Oh my gosh,” you hiss to Hoseok, “I think I recognize her from that movie! And why are we skipping the line?”

Hoseok laughs. “Y/n, I know to you we’re just friends, but to everyone else, we are global superstars.”

You swallow. Right. In a place like this… “Should I be seen with you guys?”

“C’mon, we pay good money for security to keep paparazzi away from this place. You’re safe.”

The seven of you file in: music is blaring, people are dancing, and you’re absolutely starstruck. You’re quickly led to a private room stocked with alcohol. Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok stay on their feet while Seokjin and Namjoon rush for the liquor. Taehyung sprawls on the luxurious couch.

“We’re gonna go dancing. Y/n, wanna come?”

You nod, blinking through the sensory overload. So much is going on, so much to think about.

“Wait, wait.” Namjoon pours you a shot. “To Y/n, well and truly on her way to stardom!”

You laugh, accepting the shot. Thank goodness for your friends, thank goodness you didn’t lose them as well as Yoongi. The liquor burns your throat, and you relish in the feeling.

“Come on, Y/n-ie!” Hoseok tugs on your hand. You toss your coat onto the couch next to Taehyung and follow the dancers out, listening to their excited chatter. The dance floor is big, and multicolored lights flash everywhere. You swear you’ve seen the DJ featured in some magazine. Every person in Club Xyon is almost inhumanely beautiful, and you suddenly feel a nervous shiver making its way down your back. Almost as if they can sense it, the three men flank you.

“Hey, you belong here as much as anyone, okay?” Hoseok whispers.

You look down at the bodysuit, and think of how much power you felt when you tried it on. “Yeah. Let’s dance.”

Jungkook whoops, and Jimin bounces on his heels. Hoseok merely winks and leads you into the mass of flawless bodies; so many of them have clearly been trained in dance, moving with such fluidity that you do endless double takes.

“Exactly what you need, I think,” Hoseok murmurs into your ear as you begin to move to the music.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shoot back playfully.

Jimin and Jungkook appear to be having a dance battle. Their fame and the intensity of their movement has created a hubbub among the stars present, and they form a circle around the two. The crowd’s movement jostles you, and you lose track of Hoseok.

“Hobi! Hob- ah, sorry!” You say quickly, having bumped into someone as you’re pushed to the edge of the dance floor. “My b- wait, Wonho?”

Wonho grins. “I thought it was you! Funny, I texted earlier because I wanted to invite you here. Who beat me to it?”

“I’m here with BTS,” you reply. Then, seeing Wonho’s confusion, you correct yourself. “Some of the members of BTS. As friends.”

“I see. I’m sorry about Yoongi, I didn’t know he had it in him to act like that.”

You clench your jaw. You don’t know the half of it. “It’s in the past.”

“Well, if you don’t have plans for the next song, want to dance?”

“Sure.” Wonho is cute, and he was kind to you when you worked together. The black mesh shirt he’s wearing certainly helps.

“Did you see the commercial?” He yells over the heavy bass as you dance. Over his shoulder, you see Taehyung talking to the DJ.

“No, I’ve been busy,” You shout in reply.

“My agent sent it to me. It turned out well – you looked great!”

Your cheeks flush. Wonho is one of those men who just looks physically perfect, and muscles like his don’t usually come with such a thoughtful demeanor. To receive praise from someone like him gives your ego a boost. “Thanks, I’m sure you did too.”

The song ends, but you still find yourself full of adrenaline. Wonho is an amazing dancer, and you’re finally beginning to relax.

“I’m gonna get a drink, want anything?” Wonho shouts as another song comes on. With their popularity, you’re surprised you haven’t heard any BTS songs yet.

“I’ll come with you.” You do want something to drink, but you know better than to let someone you barely know bring you something. Wonho nods and leads you to the sleek bar, staffed by skilled mixologists – they add bottle tricks to every order.

“Whiskey, please,” Wonho says when a mixologist turns to him. “And whatever she wants.”

You raise a brow. “You don’t have to pay.”

“C’mon, let me be nice!”

You laugh. “Fine. A raspberry cosmopolitan.” You keep your eye on the mixologist as they make your drink. “Thanks, Wonho.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I got to run into you. You were definitely one of the more human actresses I’ve worked with.”

“How so?”

Wonho shrugs. “You guys pretend to be other people for a living. It’s nice to meet someone who feels so genuine.”

You nearly choke on the drink the mixologist has just handed to you. “Oh my god,” you say, shaking with laughter. “That’s… thanks, man.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nah, just – first time in a while I’ve been called genuine.” It’s a nice change.

“I can’t believe that. You seem really cool, Y/n–?” You’re taking a long draw of your drink, so all you hear is his voice suddenly changing your name into a question. When you lower your glass, you see him staring in surprise behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you, Lee.” His voice is hard and cool, so uncharacteristic that it takes you a sentence to register. When you do, you swing around, almost unconsciously backing closer to Wonho. “Y-Yoongi?”

“Oh my gosh, look who it is!” Your blood suddenly turns to ice and you grip Wonho’s sleeve like a lifeline. No. No. No.

“Y/n, sweetie!” Kang Seoyeon says, blood-red lipstick matching her hair. Her hand rests lightly on Yoongi’s shoulder. “It’s been so long!”

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harryandmolly · 4 years

Text

fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *6*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, not all fluff is fluffy (ya feel?), a chapter pic that walked into my hands and curled up and fell asleep

wc: 3.7k

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Lilly’s eyes slide shut. There’s no fighting it now, not when he’s kissing her throat like this, mouthing at her like a melting ice cream cone.

She kind of feels like one. It’s summer in Southern California, even though it’s May. They’ve started sharing Lilly’s balcony bedroom and can’t agree on whether to keep the doors open when they sleep. She still gets weird about the bird that flew in and woke them up that one time by shitting on her yoga mat. He likes the nature sounds, though. It reminds him of Pickering even more than his place in Toronto does. They’re not actually secluded out here but it feels like it sometimes, in a nice way.

It also doesn’t help, he supposes, that every mosquito in LA county finds a way to get under their sheets and bite her, and only her, when they leave a door or window open for airflow. He tells her it’s because she’s so sweet. She swears at him.

She won the battle last night, so the doors and windows are closed. The air is stagnant. In such an old house, the central air isn’t great. They’ve kicked all their sheets off and are down to their underwear. He likes the way her skin tastes a little salty-sweaty.

He’s not after anything other than holding her. In the few weeks since they’ve started back up again, their sex life has been borderline out of control. Shawn is chalking it up to lost time.

He likes the way she sighs and slips her fingers into his hair like she’s resigned to his attentions. He keeps his hands north of her underwear, conscious of not making her feel like she’s merely an outlet. He’s just… happy. He could count on two hands the number of nights they got to sleep in the same bed before they broke up. This is the height of luxury for him.

Shawn murmurs contentedly into the column of her neck. “Your skin’s so soft,” he whispers, skimming his nose beneath her jaw, “How do you get it like that?”

She giggles. He’s on fire, pleasantly burning.

“You saw my truckload of sheet masks. They’re not for decoration.”

Shawn pulls his head up, flipping his curls out of his eyes. He overdoes it, still used to having a lot more hair than he does now. She smooths it away for him.

“I’ve been bad lately,” he confesses, wrinkling his nose, “I ran out of the stuff Anna gave me like a month ago. And I do sheet masks a lot more when we’re touring, being on the bus and shit.”

Lilly looks crestfallen. Shawn lifts his brows in question.

“The only reason I’m in bed with you is to steal your outrageously expensive skincare.”

Her convincingly innocent expression goes impish so fast he’s glad he didn’t blink. He grunts and skims his teeth against her jaw as he laughs, swatting at her ass.

“Are you gonna share your masks or what?”

Ten minutes later, he has one of her terrycloth headbands pushing his hair back and Lilly almost sitting on his bare chest as she carefully presses the slick sheet to his face. She taught him how to make little cuts along the forehead, eyes, lips and jaw to fit it to your face best. It’s still too small for his giant head, but Lilly’s determined.

“There,” she declares, scooting back over his ribs. Shawn lifts his hands to her thighs, rubbing them softly as he watches her apply her own, expertly snipping the center of her nose flap to fold it up and out of the way of her piercing.

Shawn shuts his eyes and lulls himself further into this intoxicating calm with her.

“What’re these supposed to do?”

“Brighten, boost collagen, support cell turnover.”

Lilly flops on her back beside him. She nestles into the sheets and groans like they haven’t been lying in bed all day. She sneaks her fingers in between his. His nose twitches as he tries not to smile and fuck up his mask.

He rubs his thumb against the back of her hand.

Her whisper is quiet, strained. “Stop making me smile, you’re going to fuck up my mask.”

It’s Shawn’s turn to make breakfast. So, eggs.

Lilly swings her legs against the counter as she sits across from him, curating a playlist because you know when you just wake up and it’s a Beach Boys morning?

Apparently it’s a Beach Boys morning. Shawn has no arguments. Even if he did, he’s too distracted to voice them. It’s arriving today, all of it. As much of a professional recording studio as can be packaged and very carefully, very expensively delivered to their rental. Lilly’s been trying to keep him engaged since they woke up, they even braved taking their first masked walk around their neighborhood. Apart from the possibility of a rogue and well-hidden phone camera, he thinks they made it out without being spotted. As far as Shawn can tell, the internet thinks he’s in Toronto. He’s comfortable keeping it that way.

Turns out even aside from worming back into Lilly’s life, LA was a good idea. His team came up with a whole plan to keep him busy and keep him recording, but it would’ve been much harder to execute if he were a country away. He has Zoom sessions with producers lined up and instruments being tracked at other home studios, all the ones he can’t do himself, anyway. Now he just needs the equipment.

Shawn is folding spinach, mushrooms and onion into what he hopes is omelet-shaped eggs, kind of, sort of, when his phone buzzes hard against the granite.

“Ohmygodthey’rehere,” he hisses, barreling toward the front door without shutting off the burners, leaving Lilly swearing at him in his wake.

The proceeding half hour of large, larger, and largest Pelican cases being hauled into the living room is torture. It’s like if you had to watch your mum and dad bring all the presents from downstairs and stack them strategically under the Christmas tree before you got to rip them open. Once the delivery guys leave, they spend another half hour wiping down every square inch of the case surfaces with Clorox and taking stock of the equipment.

Shawn looks to Lilly, pained and squirming. She snorts.

“Go for it, champ.”

Shawn descends, Lilly close behind him. In another two hours, they spread everything out on the floor in relative chaos and exhaust themselves to the point of near panic.

Shawn scrapes his hands over his face and into his hair, grabbing at it to ground himself. “We just… I dunno, we gotta call Andrew or Teddy or somebody, we can’t do this alone, it’s too much.”

Lilly sits on her knees in front of a case full of long polls on stands that he can’t remember the name of. She makes a sour face and her high ponytail bobs against her cheek. His stupid sentimental heart swells.

“I hate it when you make me the positive one. Shawn, it’s fine. We need food, we need coffee, we need a strategy, this is fine. This is fine!” Her pitch rises noticeably at the end of her short pep talk. It’s distractingly anxious.

Shawn looks around hopelessly at the thousands of dollars of equipment strewn across the living room floor until she drags him by the wrist into the kitchen. They pass on their now sad and definitely burnt omelet and order from Eggslut, promising each other that they’ll have Sweetgreen salads for dinner.

Back on the floor, barefoot and hungry, they toss ideas back and forth between bites of brioche egg sandwiches. By the time the tater tots are gone, Shawn is off the ledge, coaxed slowly and with care (and carbs).

The plan is, essentially, a giant blanket fort. Since the living room is at the back of the house away from the street and the pool, it’s nice and quiet, but they need absolute silence for a clean track. They scout out a cozy corner, working around the baby grand, with enough room for the mics and recording equipment, plus a couch for Lilly if she promises to be very quiet.

“Ok so if we get the C-stands up around eight and a half feet, that should clear the mics,” Lilly declares, dragging sound-deadening furni pads out of another case.

Shawn’s head falls back. “C-stand. That’s it. Shit, I couldn’t come up with it earlier.”

Lilly winks and begins sorting them by size. Shawn turns to a case of C-stands and plucks one from a folded bunch. Within 25 seconds, he’s struggling, kicking at the legs and turning dials that don’t seem to do shit.

Lilly’s little hands appear in his view as she gently handles it, demonstrating the way the legs swing out and the stand rises.

“You’re so handy,” he praises teasingly, slipping his fingers between hers. She willingly releases the stand and slides around behind him, shrugging her arms around his stomach. He tries to peer at her over his shoulder and wonders if she can feel the way his pulse increases.

“Sorry, did you say ‘handsy?’” she murmurs, pushing her fingers beneath the elastic of his gym shorts. He holds his breath, muscles tensing everywhere. Just as soon as she’s there, suddenly she’s gone, nibbling away at his shoulder blade as he whistles an exhale through his nose. He chuckles and turns in her arms.

“Guess I gotta be the brains and the braun on this one,” Lilly says, lifting onto her toes and pecking his lips. Shawn grunts, looking to hold her a little longer, but she squirms away.

Lilly got her Beach Boys after all, on the house speakers at an almost egregious volume. They continue working, stringing up furni pad “walls” on C-stands and gathering extra throws and rugs from around the house. The problem is the fort’s ceiling.

“We can suspend them from the chandelier, as long as some of the weight still rests on the walls. But how do we get up there, can you reach? No. Wait-- no, no, is there a ladder? There has to be a ladder,” Lilly rants, turning circles beneath the chandelier until Shawn intervenes, catching at her arm.

“I’m your ladder.”

Lilly blinks, then squints. “Terrible plan.”

Shawn balks. “Great plan!”

“What, you’re gonna lift me? For minutes on end? It’s going to take a while.”

“You can sit on my shoulders. And that way I can keep you company,” he quips with a crooked grin. He likes the way his smile makes her smile.

“Shawn, no, you haven’t even been working out recently, and--”

Her realization of her own mistake takes over her face. Now that she’s made it sound like she doesn’t think he’s capable, he won’t leave it alone until she lets him prove it. She sighs.

“I can do it, Lill, you’re really not heavy. C’mon, I can always put you down. It’ll be fine!”

She cringes. “Famous last words, Mendes.”

Shawn corrals her with confidence and kisses until she’s sitting on the edge of the bar counter with her legs out as Shawn crawls beneath her and into position with her thighs on his shoulders.

“Three… two… one…,” Shawn grunts, ignoring Lilly’s persistent “oh god, oh god” muttering under her breath. He uses his lower body to press himself to stand. Lilly squeaks a little, clenching her legs tightly against his chest. He squeezes his hands on her quads with a little laugh.

“Told you. Did you seriously think I was gonna fuckin’ drop you?”

“I didn’t think you’d mean to,” Lilly mutters. She tugs once at his curls and presses into him again, giving him a feel for just what all those tree poses were for.

“Giddy up.”

One step at a time, they waddle beneath the chandelier. Lilly hooks up the loops she ingeniously sewed onto the furni pads to heavy duty Command hooks and sticks them up to the ceiling, one by one. The final pad goes up and the world goes dark.

“Oh my god,” Lilly breathes.

Shawn exhales. “We fuckin’ did it.”

Lilly lets out a squeak and smacks at his chest. “High five me!”

“I can’t see you!”

With a final uncoordinated scramble, Shawn kneels and Lilly stumbles off his shoulders. They fall into a puddle, enclosed in the quiet darkness.

“Thank you,” Shawn whispers, reaching out to touch whatever he finds. It happens to be her belly, where her shirt has ridden up. Her abs contract. He fights a goofy smile, even in the dark.

“I knew it was important to you.”

Shawn seeks her out. He can’t help it. He wriggles around until his head replaces his hand on her stomach, and links their fingers.

“I need to ask you something.”

Shawn looks up where her face should be in the blackness. He nods.

“How… many songs are about her? I just need to prepare myself for it.”

Shawn wishes he could see her face now. He thinks her voice is steady, but he can always read her face better. Whatever it is, it’s always in those big blue eyes.

“A lot,” he says honestly, “I went on a writing spree when we first got together. It was confusing, I think, because there was so fuckin’ much going on in my head. But writing about her helped… I dunno. I think it distracted me from how I still felt about you.”

He feels her swallow, but doesn’t hear it. The panic starts to rise, pushing him to keep talking.

“I don’t know what recording these songs is gonna feel like, Lill. I’m scared there isn’t gonna be any life in them. Because I don’t feel those things anymore. That’s why I left.”

Lilly sits up. Shawn’s head slides into her lap. His pulse is in his ears. He’s sick to his stomach.

“How do I know you didn’t say the same fucking thing to her when you left me?”

There’s no anger in it, just hurt. Shawn sits up, shaking his head, even though he knows she can’t see.

“Lill, please, I’m sorry. I really am. Fuck, I know it’s… it’s shitty. I can’t pretend to get it from your side. And I really don’t want to hurt you again.”

Her huff is aggravated, but she’s not running. He clings to hope.

“Well, it’s gonna hurt, Shawn, there’s kind of no getting around that if 90% of your album is ‘I finally got the girl’ songs.”

Shawn knows very little about life in general, he recognizes that, but he knows better than to argue the percentage right now. Tentatively, he reaches for her, finding her knee.

“Tell me what you need.”

“I don’t know,” she snaps. Shawn draws his hand back and feels his chest tighten. It can’t end like this. Not after everything.

“Ok,” Shawn breathes, nodding to himself, ready to collect his shredded dignity and search on his hands and knees for the flap of furni pad they designed as the door.

Her hand stops him. She grabs at him clumsily in the dark, then finds his wrist. She can probably feel his pulse in her small fingers.

“You know I’d never, ever tell you not to record a song, right?”

There’s a desperation he barely recognizes in her voice. He nods until he remembers she can’t see him.

“Yeah, Lill.”

“Because I wouldn’t. I’d never try to take something like that away from you. I know you would sooner die before putting anything on a record that you don’t think belongs there, and it belongs there because you love it. I’d never want you to put that aside for my feelings.”

“I know,” he whispers tenderly, smoothing the pad of his thumb across the tendons of her wrist.

“Ok,” she says, creeping back toward calm, “Good. Then… do what you’re gonna do. Make the best fucking record. And we’ll figure it out.”

Shawn ducks his head. He knows ‘lucky’ doesn’t begin to cover it. But now when he writes, he works on finding a bunch of other words to help him get there.

Lilly exhales through her nose. It’s quiet for a few long seconds. Until--

“I’m so getting producer credit for all this shit, by the way.”

“This was a bad idea,” Lilly groans.

Shawn looks over at her. She’s shrugged into a ball in the front seat of his rented Range Rover. Her knees cover her masked face. Her eyes dart anxiously.

“Stop doing that,” he sighs, reaching over with one hand and pushing at her knees, “The windows are tinted. You’re wearing a mask. I’m wearing a mask. It’s fine, honey.”

Even with half her face covered, Lilly looks skeptical. He leaves his hand on her thigh and rubs circles with his thumb while they sail down an uncharacteristically empty Mulholland Drive.

Shawn was desperate to get out. They’ve barely left the property in six weeks, an unignorable reminder of their privilege. But while Lilly would very happily never see a human again as long as she lives, Shawn is a Leo.

“Yeah, and?” he prods after she reminds him of his astrological sign over post-workout protein smoothies.

“And that means you are not a happy camper without a spotlight. In your case both literally and metaphorically.”

He laughed and kissed her. She let him.

But the drive was a tough sell. Even though he promised they wouldn’t get out anywhere, even in a socially distant setting, it felt like a risk to Lilly. It took the reassurance of the windows and the masks to even get her in the car.

Now that they’re here, Shawn feels something heavy in his chest dissolving that he didn’t realize was there. He sings along to Spotify and drums on the steering wheel and points out crazy houses as they wind through various canyon neighborhoods, Lilly’s favorite.

“It took what, two days for pap photos to show up of you guys walking around her neighborhood in Miami? That was Miami, Shawn. How do you not expect paps to be stalking every tinted-out Range Rover within 5 square miles of Beverly Hills?”

Shawn’s thumb stills. He tilts his head back and forth at a stop sign, stretching his neck.

“We called them.”

Lilly looks up at him. “Hmm?”

“The paps in Miami, they were there because our teams called them.”

Lilly’s brows pull together. “But there were pictures almost everyday. For like, a week.”

“Yeah,” Shawn sighs, “I know.”

Lilly is silent and contemplative. He starts up the soothing rubbing of her skin, even if it’s more effective for him than for her.

“It’s just that if they do happen to find us, that’s it. We’re officially on the radar. Everyone will know you broke up, everyone will know we’ve been staying together. For weeks, Shawn. It sends a very clear message.”

They roll to a stop at a light somewhere near Outpost Estates. Shawn tugs his mask down below his chin.

“I’m prepared for all of that. It’s ok if you’re not, if you’d rather keep it quieter this time, I totally get it. Things are… different now. But you’re not my dirty little secret, Lills, you never have been and I will never let you feel that way.”

Lilly cedes, dropping her own mask and wetting her lips. “I don’t want to… hide. I just want you to be prepared for the fact that a lot more people are going to be mad at you for leaving her for me than were mad when you left me for her.”

The light turns green. Shawn bites his lip and presses the gas. They drive in silence for a while.

“Did I scare you?”

Shawn startles a little at the sound of her voice and cracks a little smile.

“No, baby, you didn’t. I mean, I know the deal by now. It’s just… so fucking unfair to you.”

Shawn finds a quiet little cul de sac that backs up against a wooded area. He parks and turns the music down.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lilly pleads only half playfully, “I know fandom at least as well as you do. It’s ok.”

“But how?” Shawn insists, squinting at her, “How is it ok? The things people say to you, and you’re not even a public figure. How does it not get to you?”

Lilly smiles sadly. “It does sometimes. But I decided a long time ago that you were worth it.”

The guilt weighs heavily all over again. Leaving her feels unfathomable now, like it wasn’t a year ago that he did it, but ten years. That was a stupid kid version of him then. He knows so much better now. He hopes he does.

Shawn links their fingers and draws Lilly’s knuckles to his lips. He watches her over the top of them. She sinks happily into her seat and goes a lovely shade of pink.

“If I wrote down how many times I day I think about how fucking crazy I am about you, the world would be out of paper.”

Lilly cackles, tossing her head back. Her laugh makes him laugh.

“What?” he giggles.

“What a line!” she crows.

“That wasn’t a line, that was from my deep and lyrical heart!”

“That was the line-iest line that has ever lined. Shawn Mendes, you smooth motherfucker.”

He rolls his eyes but can’t stop grinning. “Shut up. I’m never saying anything nice to you again.”

“Mmm, you can’t help it, honey, you’re Canadian.”

He huffs an exhale through his nose and closes his eyes. Her thumb is soft and warm against the back of his hand.

“And apparently really fucking crazy about me,” she adds softly. He tilts his head and opens one eye to look at her.

“I am. Can’t remember why though.”

Lilly’s lips pucker as she considers a thought. Shawn’s legs tingle.

“Put the seats down in the back and I’ll happily remind you.”

Shawn feels his eyes go comically wide. Lilly’s lips spread into a Cheshire cat smile.

“You’re kidding. You’re not kidding?”

“I’m actually super not kidding.”

He hears her laughing as he leaps out of the car and crawls into the trunk to put the seats down. She doesn’t stop until the trunk closes behind them and his lips are on her earlobe.

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disneydude94 · 3 years

Text

2 weeks until Amphibia Season 3 premiere! Wanna see my version of Amphibia intro during season three for my fanmade? Here goes nothing.

The music starts when the Calamity Box dropped to the ground sending Anne, Sprig, Polly, and Hop Pop back to earth, but ended up in Disneyland where Anne and the Plantars were laying down and stood up looking at Sleeping Beauty Castle. We zoomed out and it shows a map of Los Angeles.

In Toontown, Donald is fishing while Goofy is gardening his vegetables when sliding to Mickey’s house where Daisy is walking with her pet dog. Anne comes out of the house wearing her casual clothes letting Sprig, Polly, and Hop Pop inside the house spinning Anne.

Sprig open the freezer fridge holding the mint ice cream like a telescope, but he fell flat on his back this ice cream fell on his face while Mickey and Minnie are in the kitchen giggling at Sprig while Hop Pop is holding his phone to take a picture at his meal. Polly jumped on Pluto when he woke up and barked at Polly for disturbing his nap. Polly jumped off when the chase began. Anne is laughing at the scene until Sprig landed on her shoulders and went off for their adventure. They hoped over a crocodile and two hippos from “The Jungle Cruise” while there are people on the boat curiously.

Later in that scene, when Anne is running carrying Sprig and Polly with Timon and Pumbaa chasing by a robot frog in the alley at Los Angeles. In the museum, Woody, Buzz, and Bo Peep are helping Sprig, Polly, and Hop Pop escape wearing their disguises while the security guard is searching. Then we see Anne riding her scooter with Sprig on top while Dipper is holding on to Anne and Mabel is raising her fist at the governments agents when being chased by the police force.

Then it shows some robot dragonflies flying over Duckberg where Scrooge McDuck, Launchpad, and Chief O’Hara have witnessed the invasion. The giant robot release some tadpoles robots to prepare the attack. Sasha looked at the camera smiling when preparing for battle with Grime and residents of Wartwood. It shows a lot of characters including Mickey and Friends, Princesses, Toy Story, Genie, Tinkerbell, Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, Candace, Simba, Timon, and Pumbaa smiling all together while Maleficent is in the very back. Now we see King Andrias pulled out his sword swinging while Marcy in coma in a glass tank with the Mysterious Entity.

Finally when the robot frogs firing at Anne and the Plantars, but she burst into Calamity Power destroying some missiles and grab one more missile and swung it back at the robot frogs destroying the robots. Anne landed when her power went back to normal posing in front of the characters from Amphibia and many Disney Characters that was from my fanmade poster when the music ends.

Amphibia: Calamity War

So what do you think of my fanmade intro? I know it’s weird, but I’m so hyped for two weeks until season premiere! By the way, my new computer has arrived early from yesterday, but my parents are out of town so that I have to wait until tomorrow once they come back home and then they can help me hooked up and ready for anything.

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tired-college-student-writing · 5 years

Text

#WayneAngel

The Maribat AU by @ozmav and @maribat-archive is all I can think about atm, so enjoy this while I work on the next Tim’s Secret Weapon chapter.

Summary- After Grayson posts a video on the wrong twitter, Damian feels like he should lose his social media privileges, and possibly his hand.

EDIT-someone pointed out I misspelled Damian’s name, my bad guys

Part 1 (HERE) Part 2

______________________________________________________________________

“You’re really dating Damian Wayne?” Rose gushed at lunch making Marinette chock on her sandwich from the next table over, “Is he really as grumpy as his siblings make him out to be?”

“Oh please,” Lila laughed, “Dami-bear is such a softy, he’s just camera shy,”

“Awww,” Mylene coos, “Do you have any pictures with him?”

“Sadly none I can share,” Lila’s mouth twisted into an apologetic smile, “He made me promise that I would be the only one to see the pictures we took together because he’s afraid of our relationship getting to the media,”

No one noticed as Marinette hid her snort in her lunch.

______________________________________________________________________

Most of the class had just finished up dinner when Alya’s phone blew up.

Chloe had sent the whole class group chat a link. Now normally Alya would ignore what was probably just another of her parody news stories, only the whole class seemed to be flipping shit over it.

Must be interesting, she thought as her phone loaded up the twitter video.

Dick Grayson @AFlyingGrayson

Adventures of being the eldest brother

The video blurred for a second before focusing on the Wayne kitchen, easily recognizable from the countless other short videos the siblings had shot in it. It didn’t hurt either that the camera focused the imposing figure of Jason Todd who was screaming in the much shorter Tim Drake’s face.

They were arguing about the batter Tim was holding. Jason holding a spoon and brown sugar while Tim waved a piece of paper, the recipe most likely, in his face as he yells right back. Jason, without warning, gives his brother a hard shove, and the camera follows his pinwheeling fall down to the floor where he lands with his face in the batter.

The room goes silent as the camera pans over to a short black haired girl holding a piping bag, her blue eyes glaring daggers at the two men as Damian Wayne snickered next to her.

Alya’s heart skipped a beat, thumb smashing the screen to pause the video. For a long second all the reporter could do was stare at the girl that was undeniably Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

What the hell?

What The Hell?

WHAT THE HELL?

Thousands of questions flew through her head.

Why was Marinette in Gotham?

How did she get there?

Since when did Marinette know THE Waynes?

Why was she baking with them?

What was going on?!

Her hands shook as she hit play once more.

“Take over filling these macarons, please, Damian,” Marinette’s voice was cool as you heard a snort from behind the camera, “I need to take out the trash.”

The youngest Wayne grins widely as he takes the piping bag. “Kick their asses, angel,” He teased, leaning over to peck her on the cheek, “I got your piping bag,”

“Since when does the demon spawn know memes!” Jason cries as Tim simply lifts his head and looks at the teens like the world was coming to an end.

Marinette ignored them as she stalked over and grabbed Jason and slung him over her tiny shoulders like he was a bag of flour.

“Holy sh-”

“What the fu-”

“How the he-”

“No swearing in the kitchen,” Marinette cut off three oldest Waynes, as she calmly walked towards the back door, “It makes the macarons bitter.”

“Where are you taking him, Mari?” Dick asked, zooming the camera in on Jason’s dumbfounded face. Understandably so, he had at least a foot on the teen, and about eighty pounds, how the heck did she lift him?

“I said I was taking out the trash,” She answers as she kicks open the kitchen door and dumps Jason on the patio.

Tim bursts out laughing until Marinette appears over him and carries him under her arm, “Hey!”

“Stay out of my kitchen,” She snaps, before closing the door in their faces.

“My girlfriend is awesome,” Damian whispered to himself, almost to quiet for the microphone to pick up.

“You’re one scary lady, Mari,” Dick told the girl as she turned back to the kitchen.

She bit her lip, “I wasn’t too mean, was I? I mean I didn’t want them ruining any more sweets with their bickering, because now I have to remake the cake batter, and we’re already close on time before Alfred gets home from shopping but-”

“Angel,” Damian said calmly, “That was amazing and those two morons deserved it.”

“Baby Birds right,” Dick agreed, “That was so cool!”

She smiled, her shoulders sagging in relief as she walks back towards Damian, who had been dutifully piping the macarons as asked, “Thanks, guys. Now let’s get to work to make Alfred's birthday a success!”

“As you wish,” the eldest Wayne teasingly announced as he goes to shut off the recording.

The last thing seen on screen was Marinette sharing a sweet kiss with Damian as she took the piping bag back.

“Thanks for holding this for me,”

“Anytime, Habibiti,”

Alya wasn’t sure how long she stared at the screen after it went black, but her texts were still buzzing. They were probably all saying the words that they were thinking.

Marinette knew the Waynes.

Marinette knew the Waynes REALLY well from the looks of it.

Marinette was dating Damian Wayne.

Marinette was dating Damian Wayne, even though Lila had claimed she was dating the heir not three days ago.

Marinette looked happy in Gotham.

Marinette looked happier in Gotham then she had looked in months in Paris.

She scrolled through the messages without really reading any of them, her mind and body too numb.

Even so, Alya couldn’t help but notice that Lila was strangely silent.

_______________________________________________________________________

Marinette sighed as she slid the finished and decorated cake into the fridge to cool alongside the macrons they had finished earlier. It had taken a little extra time to make after she kicked Tim and Jason out of the kitchen but the chocolate lavender cake was complete and decorated in an elegant design she hoped Alfred would enjoy.

After closing the fridge she dug her phone out of her pocket, as it had been buzzing her almost nonstop for an hour before she had muted it so she could focus on the cake.

Looking through her notifications, her eyebrow raised further and further up her forehead before she groaned.

“Dammit, I owe Tim €20,”

“What?” Dick asked from the sink where he was washing the dishes.

“We’re trending,” She answered.

Damian raised a brow, putting down his drying towel, “What do you mean we’re trending?”

She held up her phone up to the two Waynes, “You posted the video on your public twitter instead of your private one, Dick. #WayneAngel and #MariDami are both trending right now in France and America.”

Damian hissed, hand twitching towards the knife block “Grayson!”

Dick had the decency of looking sheepish before he took off, Damian on his heels, screeching for the older boy to relinquish his phone.

“Don’t break anything!” She screeched not even bothering to follow them, “If you make a mess on Alfred’s birthday then I’m making you into mincemeat pies!”

Looks like she had a twitter account to make.

#miraculous ladybug #batman #Maribat #maridami #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne #Tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #alya cesaire #lila rossi #other classmates mentioned #social media fail #lila gets exposed #crack treated seriously

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imjeralee · 4 years

Text

Wallflower: Chapter 4 - Open Me

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers.

You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

OPEN ME

...

"Some time ago, this woman did this, uh.... this art performance. It was extreme art, using herself. Basically, she stood with this sign saying that she was letting the public do whatever they wanted to do with her - and she was gonna stand for seven hours and do nothing. She laid out some stuff in front of her - amongst random objects, I think there was a pen, a flower, a gun, a knife...So anyway, she stood and at first, people just stared and watched her. Someone went up to her and gave her a hug. Gave her a handshake. Someone gave her the flower to hold. Someone kissed her on the lips. The public chuckled and laughed, watching this woman stand there like a living dummy. They used the pen and drew on her or something. It began to escalate: someone started taking off her clothes. She stood semi-naked until someone covered her up. Someone slapped her. Someone punched her. I think she started crying but they didn't stop. Someone grabbed the knife and cut the side of her neck. Someone took the gun and put it in her hand, pointed it to her own head. When the time was up and the woman started moving again, the people who hurt her ran away immediately, afraid of the repercussions. When I read that article, I knew: human beings are absolutely disgusting to the core."

She lifts up a knife next. A terrified Deerling trembles in the corner of the room whilst Banette grins.

"That being said, I guess I'm no exception. I'm sorry it had to come to this."

....

Detective Looker is hard at work.

He's got a few things going on - not only has he taken over Raihan's social media account for the time being (it took a lot of persuasion but Raihan finally agreed, vexingly... if he might say so himself) and now he has taken it upon himself to personally investigate the hotel, in particular, room 241. It's Raihan's designated room should he ever visit Circhester, Spikemuth or Wyndon, and Looker's interrogated the majority of staff and checked out all CCTV. No-one reported witnessing any unauthorised persons going in and out of the room and the CCTV does not accurately show the hallway, indicating several blindspots. They also tell him a keycard went missing which was not replaced or brought to management's attention. Looker is not surprised. Of course, there's a hiccup...whilst the hotel staff apologise profusely for their blunders, Looker dismisses them. It sounds like they'll improve their security from now on.

Looker heads to the room, opening the door. Everything is evidence and should be treated with utmost care...he unleashes his Growlithe to sniff out anything. He wouldn't be surprised if Raihan and the girl were snorting up berry dust or anything. Who knows what kids these day were up to...who knows.

Upon checking the room, he stands where the camera in the DVD was facing and finds two light switches in the wall that faces the bed directly. Attempting to remove them, he gets Magnemite to ease it off using it's Magnetic Pull ability and it manages to take the cover off, revealing a square slot where any sort of camera could be placed there, perfect for recording. He takes a few snaps of it using his Rotom phone and inspects the area where the dust doesn't settle. The camera was placed here for some time (a long time, perhaps) but it's long gone now.

Someone had set up a camera way before the one night stand and removed it during the night when both were sleeping. Pretty ballsy, if Looker admits; the perp had gone into the room when Raihan and the girl were in it. But from the testimony, the young couple were drunk as fish so it's not surprising they were out cold for the rest of the night and didn’t notice. The next question is - if no-one saw anyone go in or go out, how did the culprit escape? Looker turns to the window, finds that it's easily opened and proceeds to look outside. Anyone could just use pokemon to fly out here. Also, how did the culprit know where the girl worked to be able to deliver the DVD directly to her workplace?

She probably works for Macro Cosmos. It's the perfect setup - she's Raihan's biggest fan and being an employee of Macro Cosmos, she could have access to what hotel he stays in. Macro Cosmos also has their paws stuck in the Pokemon Nurseries; they pretty much run everything in Galar. They may as well be the government, Looker thinks to himself.

He grabs a pokeball and presses the button. "Go, Dustox." And the large moth pokemon abruptly appears and Looker issues his command: "Dust it."

Dustox flutters around, sprinkling some dust over the window pane where it reveals two handprints.

"Good job, boy." Looker says as Dustox lands atop his head and he pulls out some equipment to take prints. They look small - most likely a female's. Next, Rotom buzzes, indicating a new message. "Talk." Looker mutters, as Rotom flies out.

"Zzrt, I've got the report; I've also got the address of the fan who told Raihan to go to Spikemuth!"

"Thanks, Rotom. This is coming along nicely." He mutters to himself. Grabbing Rotom, he checks the rest of the statistics report; looks like the person has also commented on every single photo and video Raihan has uploaded since...ever. It's simple. Real simple. Just a case of blackmail and obsession after all.

...

Looker arrives in Spikemuth and looks up from his Rotom phone. He's standing in front of an apartment block that looks very rundown. Of course, everything in Spikemuth is grizzled and decrepit, but somehow this sad building really takes the cake. Rotom's provided address mentions the third floor so he quietly makes his way up and stops at the front door. This is it.

Letting go of Rotom, he makes a circle with his finger. "Scan it."

"You got it, champ." Rotom says, before he zooms into the air and a dim blue light glows. "There'zzz only one person inzzide. A man."

"Thanks, I'm going in." Looker knocks on the door and waits.

A few seconds later, the door opens and a middle-aged, bald man in a tracksuit opens it. "Whaddya want?" He slurs, clearly drunk.

Looker holds up his badge. "I'm with the police; I'm looking for - "

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence because the man yells over his shoulder, "What are you in trouble for this time?! Now the po-po's here!"

There is no response.

The man sighs, opens the door and grunts at Looker, "C'mon in."

With an eyebrow raised, Looker steps inside. The flat is in a disgusting state and there's a terrible odor. Feces, perhaps. Looker follows the man down the small hallway of the cramped apartment, stepping over heaps of trash and boxes and upturned furniture on the floor and they stop at a random door. The man proceeds to slam his huge fist over it and it rattles in the doorframe

"Hey, are you in there?!" He yells, before he tries again, but there is still no response.

Looker holds out his arm. "Stand back." With a hefty kick, the door opens violently and swings on the hinges.

Inside, it's a fairly normal room, save for the numerous posters of Raihan pasted to the walls and a bunch of magazines on the floor with Raihan's picture on it, along with the mangled carcass of a dead Deerling. The man gags and runs back towards the direction of the living room whilst Looker steps in.

"Rotom?"

"Yezzzir?"

"Let's get a team here."

"Okay-doo."

...

The Wild Area...

"I've got two wonderful arms, I've got two wonderful lips, I'm over twenty one and I'm free…Oh, I've got a hive full o' honey, for the right kind of honeybee…"

In the Rolling Fields, a young man sits in the middle of a patch of tall grass with a jar of honey in hand and a small plastic knife in his other which he's using to spread over his face.

A group of trainers pass him whilst chatting animatedly and giggling, all female - looks like they're heading to Motostoke - and they stop as soon as they spot him, eyes wide. Realising he's being watched, he grins and waves at them. "Ladies! You wanna see my Lickilicky? He's big and pink - "

"Ewww! Weirdo!" They scream loudly before quickly scampering away.

He looks upset. "What's wrong with Lickilicky?" Rummaging a hand through his pockets, he takes out a pokeball and presses the button, releasing a large pink pokemon and he continues spreading honey over his chin. "Wait," He pauses abruptly, frowning. "How does this work again? Was I meant to put honey on myself, or on a pokemon? What do you think, Licky?"

His pokemon turns to him and sticks it's massive pink tongue out in response.

"Eh, fair enough. Okay, here goes nothing. Let's give it a shot." Once he's finished giving himself a honey moustache, he moves to stand up and holds his arms out, dropping the knife to the ground - but then his phone rings and he fishes Rotom out from his pocket. "Yello."

"Um, it's me."

"What's up?"

“I...I think I have a date. Can you help me?”

“Hell yeah, I will!” He shouts down the phone before he hangs up, then - "Frick, why'd I do that? Damn, where we gonna meet?"

He immediately calls her back.

"Yeah?" She sounds exhausted.

"Where we gonna meet and when?"

"Can we meet right now? The date is tomorrow. Are you in Galar? Sorry for the short notice..."

"Nah, s'alright, I wasn't doing anything important anyway," He replies, "And yeah, I'm in the Wild Area. Meet you outside your workplace?"

"Sure."

After he hangs up a second time, there is a loud rustling noise emitting from the right. He gasps and whips his glance over over. "What was that?"

There's another loud rustle to the left which makes him leap frantically in the air.

"Huh? What? Who?"

Another rustle.

"Who goes there?"

Glancing left and right, he can't tell where the noise is coming from but then the grass parts and a dark shadow leaps out. His eyes widen.

…..

You're waiting outside the nursery as agreed, checking your phone for any messages when you see a figure sprinting towards you from the horizon. It's some dude dressed up as a Galarian Ponyta. Oh, wait. You know this dude.

"Help! Help me! Demon cat! Demon cats are chasing me!!" He yells, waving his arms around.

It's Glenn. Finally, he's here. Took him long enough. He's rushing towards the nursery with his Lickilicky waddling after him and there's something chasing him; you notice it's a couple of Purrloin that have all set their eyes on him.

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he hisses, "Back, I say! All of you, stay back! Oh? You want a battle, do you? Fine!!" He grabs a pokeball from his belt and tosses it without looking and throws his arms in the air, "Go Kricketune! Delelele whooooop!"

You continue to watch as a large, reddish insect pokemon appears in a burst out of light and it stands its ground in front of the rampaging Purrloin - however, it's quickly pushed to the ground and trampled over.

"No!" Glenn yelps, before he spies you and proceeds to hurriedly make his way towards you, hiding behind your back, "Oh good, you're here. Do something!"

"Okay, I got this." You mutter; the Purrloin stop before you, peering up at you inquisitively whilst Glenn quivers in fear. You quickly fish out some spare berries from your bag which you keep handy for these sorts of situations and squat down to hand the fruit to them. They surround you at once and you distribute the food in an orderly fashion. "One for you...one for you.... aaaaaaaand...one for you." You mutter as they line up, single file. Once each pokemon has a berry, they purr and meow appreciatively at you before turning to leave quietly.

From behind your shoulder, you hear: "Are they gone? Are the demon cats gone?"

"Yeah."

"Phew!" Glenn pokes his head out and sighs. "Thanks for taking care of that, sis. These Purrloin walk on their hind legs! That's not normal!" He exclaims as he returns his Kricketune and Lickilicky into their pokeballs.

"It's a Galar thing." You reply, before you squint your eyes at him, "Are you high?"

"Me? High? No, of course not. I've been clean for years, sis. Years."

"Right, okay. Come on then, let's go. It's getting late."

"Sure, sure. I'm so happy you called me." He gushes, as you both begin your trek down the beaten path of the Wild Area that will lead you to Hammerlocke where you will get the train; Glenn quickly falls into the same pace as you, folding his arms behind his head - which he does all the time but suddenly it reminds you of Raihan.

Glenn is your foster brother and a self-proclaimed Pokemaniac, choosing to dress up as random pokemon depending on his mood. A week ago he was a Bidoof, a few days ago he was a Weedle. Today, he is a Galarian Ponyta, a pokemon he's been on the lookout for a long time since he read about them. He still stays in Johto somewhere in Mahogany Town, but he likes to visit you a lot on sporadic occasions and luckily for you when you called him - he was in the Wild Area. You've asked Glenn to help you choose an outfit for your date. He was responsible for picking out the black dress from Goldenrod department store - the one you wore to the club - so overall, he's good with fashion and naturally you called him first because you trust his opinions.

He was also a berry addict. Specifically, the lum. Yes, that one. Out of all the berries he could get addicted to, it had to be that one. He got addicted to lum berries at a young age and spent much of his youth going to shady places, throwing most of his cash to dealers just to snort some lum dust. He’s been clean for years, or he says, but sometimes you’re not sure. There's no telltale sign right now - no red, watery eyes and there's no distinct smell of the lum either. You guess you have to take his word for it.

"Wait, before I forget - " Glenn removes his Ponyta hood, leaving himself in his white sweater and slacks with the pink-blue edges, and he proceeds to take out two pokeballs, handing them to you, "I brought your pokemon."

You grin widely as you take the pokeballs off him. "Thanks!!" You'll let your pokemon out later, and stuff their capsules into the pocket of your bag.

"I guess the only pokemon you're missing from your team would be a Goodra, Dragonite, Kommo-o and a Hydreigon, right?"

"And a Dragapult." You remind him.

"Why do you want one so badly? Is it because they look like they're so done with life and shit?"

"Uh, no, but - hey, what happened to that Dreepy trader?"

"He said he wanted your Metagross in exchange."

You make a face. "NO."

And he snickers, crosses his arms over his chest. "Yep, I called the trade off.”

"Thanks. So, what pokemon were you looking for this time?"

"A Vespiqueen, but no luck." He says with a sigh.

"You should've dressed up as a Combee."

"I wanted to but I couldn't make the costume in time." He sighs again, "Anyway, this isn't about me. This is about you. How's it goin'? How's Galar? You got a date, right?"

You immediately throw your glance to the ground and kick a stone away from your path, cheeks going pink. "...Yeah."

"Who's the lucky dude?"

"Um...it's Raihan."

Glenn's eyes bulges for a split second but then his expression returns to normal. "Oh. Figures. He loves dragon Pokemon and you use some dragon pokemon, so you got something in common." He scratches his chin next, "Raihan, huh. He's a bit of a celebrity around here; didn't know you would like his type."

You blush furiously in response. "I don't know if I should go."

"Huh? But you called me for help, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then you should go. Give it a shot. Ahhh, my little sis is going on a date with the hot-blooded dragon tamer. That's adorable." Glenn reaches over and pulls at your cheek affectionately.

You smile awkwardly in response. There's more to it, of course, but you're reluctant to tell Glenn the entire truth. Once you're at Hammerlocke, you take the train to Wyndon - even though you're heading there tomorrow - and upon arrival, you and Glenn head to the boutique. Raihan's asked you out on short notice and you're sure there's nothing in your current wardrobe, so the Wyndon boutique will have to do. Compared to the boutiques in the region, the Wyndon store offers some of the best selection of clothing. Stepping inside, you're greeted with hundreds of clothing racks and your eyes are assaulted with dozens of colourful garb, shoes and handbags.

As you grimace under your breath, Glenn rolls his sleeves up and grins widely. "Right, let's get you sorted!"

...

Wyndon, next day.

Needless to say, you didn't get a very good night's sleep and when you had heard a Corviknight crowing, indicating it was morning, you groaned and sat up in bed, glancing over to the folded clothes on the stool which you had bought yesterday with Glenn's help. It was rather exciting at first and shopping with Glenn is very much fun and games, but now...not so much. The initial excitement is gone now, replaced with an underlying sense of dread. You're afraid. Why are you doing this? What will you say to Raihan when you see him? What will you talk about during your time together? What if it gets awkward? What if he thinks you're boring as hell and that you have nothing in common? You smacked a hand to your forehead as you slipped out of bed, full of regret and feeling sick to the stomach; it's not like you agreed to go on the date either but he's expecting you to turn up now and you're too afraid to message him saying you don't want to go anymore.

Glenn said he could wait with you at the Wyndon pokemon centre for moral support which you didn't think was necessary; it doesn't make you feel any better.

Yet, you're waiting in the Pokemon Centre; Glenn stands at the rounded table, going through photos on his phone whilst you peep outside the double glazed window. Here you are, dressed and dolled up. It took you almost three hours to get ready. You look the same as you did at the nightclub but the makeup's a bit toned down, especially with your eyeliner. There's still ten minutes to go until the date officially starts but your indication of Raihan's arrival is a cacophony of manic female screaming and cheering. People are pointing to a specific direction so you follow where their fingers are pointing to and you see that Raihan has appeared, having just arrived at the large fountain in the town square; he smiles and waves at a few shrieking fans - he's donned in a casual black t-shirt and denims (and looking very much like the way he did at that talkshow) - before he abruptly steps towards the fountain and plops himself down on an empty, dry space, bringing out his Rotom phone. High above and the sky is turning grey, indicating that it will be raining soon.

Your eyes grow wide as your Rotom phone buzzes and he flies out; you have received a photo from Raihan - he just snapped a photo of himself at the fountain and has sent it to you. The caption below says:

Doofus: I'm here :)

You don't know how to reply, your feet suddenly anchored to the spot. "...He's actually here." You croak out. "He's here, Glenn."

Glenn doesn't look up from his phone. “You thought he wasn't serious? That he was playing a cruel joke on you? This isn't prom night or high school or whatever.”

“Y-yeah...”

"Well, now that he’s here and obviously very serious, what are you waiting for? Go to him."

You shake your head furiously, taking a few steps back from the window. "Um...not yet."

"Huh?" He looks up, confused. "You're gonna make him wait?"

"...It's not that. I...I don't think I can do this."

"What do you mean?"

"This is a bad idea."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"You can't keep letting whatever you're scared of stop you from doing things, sis." Glenn says, but you don't leave the safety of the pokemon centre.

As the minutes tick by, you see Raihan occasionally checking his phone, talking to some fans who would go up to him for selfies and autographs. Once that's done, he would look up and around and check his phone again for updates from your end (but obviously there's none because you didn't reply to his message). You hear a loud booming clap of thunder overhead and it occurs to you that the weather's getting worse and soon, the window becomes streaked with droplets.

"Look, it’s raining now." Glenn adds, "And it's pretty bad. Go and get him. Go get your man."

You stare at Raihan, who is still rooted in his seat on the fountain. He hasn't moved at all. Glancing at your phone, you realise you've left Raihan waiting for almost ten minutes. And as Glenn pointed out, it's beginning to rain heavily.

"Shit. You're right. Goddamnit, he's gonna get sick." You utter under your breath, "Glenn, I'm going."

"Whoohoo! Good luck! And most importantly, have fun!”

You pull your umbrella from your bag and open it as you rush out of the pokemon centre, running over to the fountain. Raihan doesn't notice you coming and since he hasn't moved from his spot at all, he's very drenched; once you arrive, you hold the umbrella over his head and he promptly looks up.

"Sorry, I'm late!" You exclaim, "Well, no, I wasn't late, I was - uh, never mind, I-I have kept you waiting and for that I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He stares at you from head to toe; you're wearing a long-sleeved shirt dress with a belt and black shorts underneath, along with matching black chelsea boots. After he's had a good look at you, he immediately stands up and envelopes you into a tight hug. The umbrella jiggles in your hand and almost threatens to fall but you manage to hold onto it. Despite being completely wet, his body is warm.

"It's okay, I didn't wait for long." He says, as he nuzzles you affectionately. He sounds happy.

What a doofus, he clearly did wait for a long time.

"You came." He adds.

"O-of course I'd come." You utter, and you exhale quietly under your breath as he bundles you up in his arms and gives you a tight squeeze. "...Sorry." You mumble again, throwing your gaze to the side as your chin rests on his broad shoulder. You can't help but apologise again and again.

His arms lower from your waist, large hands resting on the sides of your legs and the contact makes you blush heavily, your fingers clinching the damp fabric of his t-shirt. “Your outfit is too short.” He murmurs as he strokes the sides of your bare thighs before he slips his fingers underneath the material of your shorts - he’s almost at your ass - and he succeeds in sending a few shivers down your spine.

”You don’t like it?”

“No,” He mutters, “But it’s dangerous to wear something like that in front of me.”

Honestly, it’s quite a tacky thing to say but somehow he can get away with it because your face ends up a thousand shades of red before you defiantly turn your head to the side. “S-shut up.” You mumble as he leans over to press his lips over your cheek and you close your eye as he begins to trail little kisses over the side of your face. What were you expecting? Heck, you are deliberately wearing a sexy outfit for this date.

He moves towards your mouth and presses a deep kiss on your lips which kind of takes you off guard but before you can react, he pulls away and says, "What do you want to do first?"

"You're soaked." You squeak out, "I'm sorry."

He plants his hand atop your head, ruffling your head as he grins at you in response.

"Okay, I'm here and you're here. Your obsessed fan could also be here and watching us this very moment. What the hell are we doing, being in the wide open like this? This is bad. We should not be doing this." Glancing around, you see some of the Wyndon locals running for shelter from the rain, disappearing into their homes or nearby restaurants which now look pretty full. You're not too sure if it's a good idea if you should go with Raihan to such a busy place. You ponder to yourself briefly and it hits you. "Never mind; I have an idea."

....

Glimwood Tangle.

"Ahhhh. This is so much better." You sigh, wiping your brow with relief, "It's nice, dark and quiet here. No-one will see us."

The Glimwood Tangle is the perfect place - maybe not so much for a date, but if Raihan insists in spending some time with you, this is a good option. It's not raining here either, thank goodness. Of course, you're just a few paths away from Ballonlea as well, so you guess you could invite Raihan for tea or something nearer the end (and not for sex, nooo... and you hope he would respect that too). You took the Corviknight taxi - which was a bad idea because it was really cramped inside and you were both basically rubbing shoulders - which he didn't object to or anything, in fact he pretty much wanted you to sit in his lap but luckily for you and unlucky for him, there was just enough space.

You found the entire taxi ride darn near claustrophobic and he had his hand planted over your bare leg the entire time so you're relieved to have finally arrived at the woods - even when you exited the taxi, he let you go out first and the damn cramped cubicle meant when you both stood up and turned, your ass basically grinded invitingly against his hips. If it couldn't have been anymore damn obvious, there's tension between you and Raihan and you're not sure what will emerge from this.

In the woods, you look around whilst Raihan tries to get a signal on his phone. There's not many people around at all and as you mentioned, it's dark and quiet. You prefer this more than any other town or city. You take one step forwards and -

SQUELCH.

Throwing your glance down, you see your foot is stuck in thick mud, fast. "Motherfu - “

Raihan’s watching you.

”-Fuh...Furret. These are brand new."

He chuckles as you try to pull and tug your leg free but to no avail. Raihan steps over, invulnerable to the mud (but of course he is) and reaches for you, scooping you up with one hand under the back of your knees and the other around your shoulder and with unimaginable strength, he hoists you out - but now you're stuck in his hold, being carried bridal style which embarrasses you greatly.

"What are you doing?"

"Saving my princess." He replies cheerfully as he carries you through the woods. You blush the entire way; when you're away from the muddy terrain and back onto the path, you both find a large glowing mushroom and decide to sit down and Raihan looks around inquisitively. You get the feeling that he doesn't come here often, and you wonder if he has even come here before at all. He doesn't look used to his surroundings.

"Are you okay?" You ask, as Raihan looks up at the non-existent sky. "Is it too quiet here? Too dark? Some people find the Glimwood Tangle unnerving."

"It’s not so bad here.”

"Yeah, but people are rumoured to disappear or get lost for days. Weeks, even. So, not many people like passing here and as you can see, it's really dark. Like it's almost noon but it looks like it's night-time right now. It can really mess with your biological clock," You muse out loud, "N-not that I chose to stay near here because of those reasons, of course. “

You go silent; it occurs to you that he was observing you as you babbled and now you’re scared to death that you’d put him off with your ramblings. Did it make any sense? Or was it all garbage? Why did you say those things in the first place anyway? You couldn’t help it - it was like verbal diarrhoea. Have you made things awkward now?

As you worry, he asks, “Do you live in Ballonlea or Stow-on-Side?"

"Ballonlea. You can see my cottage over there." You point to the left where between some giant, neon mushrooms, you can see the roof of your cottage in-between the stems.

"Nice." He comments with a grin, before he takes off his orange sweatband which is damp with rain and as he wrings it dry, you get a rare view of Raihan without his headband, revealing the sides of his shaved head and his dreadlocks. You can feel your cheeks heating up as you look at his rugged side profile and angled jaw, the amount of manly appeal he oozes is enough to reduce you to a blushing mess. He's still fairly damp, his black t-shirt clinging to his muscles and you can see the lean outline of his biceps. Looks like he works out a lot...hot damn, you should've paid more attention to the training videos he posts up online. There's a reason they're insanely popular with fans.

You try to focus on the topic at hand here, clearing your throat, "My pokemon like it a lot here, except Espie. She prefers Johto."

"What other pokemon do you have?"

"I have a Drifloon; he's been with me for a long time. And I have a Poliwag. He refuses to evolve though, so we tied an Everstone around his tail. He lives in my bathroom."

Raihan chuckles again. Surprisingly....the conversation's been pretty fluid and he's extremely easy-going. “I got something for you.”

”Huh?”

Delving into his pocket, he takes out a pokeball with a ribbon tied neatly around the middle. Fancy. “This is for you.”

You don’t move. Your gut feels like it’s twisted into a tight knot.

”Go on, it’s yours.”

You nervously accept the pokeball from him and he gestures for you to open it, releasing whatever is inside. You press the button and a red light flashes briefly before the Pokemon appears. Your eyes widen at once. It’s a round purplish-pink blob that blinks it’s little eyes at you before opening its mouth wide. It makes a gurgling noise and your jaw drops.

”A Goomy!!?!” You exclaim, and you can’t help the smile that blossoms on your face; Raihan watches, grinning at your reaction. “But...why? You didn’t have to.”

“He needs a home and I know you’ll take good care of him.”

As the Goomy looks between you and Raihan, you hold your arms out. It slowly slithers over to you and you lift it up and into your arms. Uh, okay.... now your clothes are feeling a little damp. There’s a slime trail over your front and as Goomy gurgles happily, you smile cheerfully at it and rub at one of it’s little horns.

”Oh, so cute...” You can’t wait to raise him into a Goodra that will destroy anything and everything. Oh yeah. Turning to Raihan, you grin, “Thanks. I’ll look after him.”

He grins at you in response as you return your new Goomy into the pokeball. Shit, you didn’t get anything for Raihan. But his gift was totally unexpected! You weren’t expecting any presents!!! What are you going to do?

“What's it like being a Pokemon Breeder?" He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"O-oh, well, I like it very much, I get to see lots of pokemon everyday. I look after a lot of pokemon everyday." You babble again, "I look after the babies, I look after the eggs, and I deliver eggs. For EV training, I only accept up to five pokemon; I take them to places with specific pokemon to battle for stat gain."

He rubs his chin in thought, "Where did you learn how to EV train?"

It's then you throw your glance to the ground and bring your knees to your chest. "....When I was a kid, I brought Beldum to Show and Tell. My classmates laughed at him and said mean things so I wanted to train him up to become stronger. I took him to the mountains and we battled a lot of Trapinch. Along the way, I noticed his attack stats kept increasing as I levelled him up." You mumble, "I never forgot that moment, not once."

"I know." He says nonchalantly, "You told me."

You whip your head to him in confusion as he smiles coolly at you. "When did I ever tell you that?"

"Didn't you watch the rest of the video?"

Your cheeks go red. "Uh........No." You utter, after a pregnant pause, "...No, I...I didn’t."

His expression gradually dissolves into one of disappointment and his face crumbles slightly. Oh shit, now that you think about it... you didn't finish watching it. You scratch your elbow, pondering.

"What's it like being a gym leader?" You ask timidly, and also wanting to change the subject, "And why did you decide to become one?"

"Hah, good question." He replies, "I like battling and training pokemon. Being a gym leader means I constantly get challenged by people from all across the region; there's always something new to look forward to everyday and my pokemon can get stronger. One day, when we're strong enough, we'll beat Leon."

You admire his positivity, you really do. And his energy. You give him a small smile as he grins at you again and a comfortable silence settles between the two of you; inwardly, you’re quite happy that the date seems to be going in a good direction. You muse silently whilst Raihan takes out his phone and attempts to take a selfie of himself with a green mushroom behind him. It's too dark for him to show up properly, however. You're about to say something when you hear a rustle in the grass below you and you turn your head to the source of the noise.

“Did you hear that??" You whisper, leaning over to see who or what is making the ruckus; when a pokemon emerges, your eyes widen and you unconsciously grab his arm. "Raihan, look, it's a Ponyta!"

"Hm?" He peers over the edge of the mushroom beside you.

As you point excitedly to the grass below, the small horse pokemon trots out from the undergrowth and glances around cautiously before it begins to feast on the grass. "Damn, all my pokemon are too strong. They'll just kill it - I mean, make it, er, faint - in one move."

"I'll catch it for you." Raihan says; he stuffs his headband into his pocket, hops off his seat and drops to the ground carefully and quietly before reaching for you with arms outstretched.

You swallow down slightly and gingerly slide off the mushroom, holding onto his shoulders for support; he slips his arms around your waist securely and effortlessly hoists you down and when your feet touch the ground, he's still holding you tightly and your noses are almost touching. You mutter your thanks as he lets go of you slowly before reaching for an ultra ball that's nestled behind his back. Approaching the Ponyta, he tosses the ultra ball and a large pokemon emerges - it's his Sandaconda. The Ponyta, startled, decides to face it head on. You look at it's multicoloured mane that is a beautiful shade of mixed pastel blue and pink. So adorable!!!

"Go, Sandaconda! Use headbutt!" He instructs, and the sand snake pokemon proceeds to ram itself at the pokemon. It didn't get a chance to retaliate at all! The Ponyta drops to the ground, not exactly knocked out but reeling from the impact. Weakened, Raihan grins and then grabs a spare pokeball from his pocket and throws it at the downed pokemon. You're surprised he's helping you catch it, and when the ball clicks shut successfully after wiggling around for three times, you watch numbly as Raihan collects it, returning his pokemon at the same time. With the pokeball in hands, he heads back to your direction and hands you the capsule. "There you go. She's all yours."

He’s surprising you a lot today. And he’s gotten you another Pokemon.

"Thanks, Raihan."

“Whatever Pokemon you want, I’ll get it for you.”

”You don’t have to.”

”I want to.”

Your cheeks flame up immediately.

”What’s next on your list?”

You think about Dragapult and an image of the ghost slash dragon type appears in your mind. Oh, Glenn is right. Dragapult really does look like he is done with life and shit. Now you really want one. “Dreepy....” You mutter, in a slight zombie trance.

”Okay, I’ll get you one.”

”Wha - ?! Raihan, I didn’t mean it, I was just - seriously, don’t. It’s okay.”

As you splutter, clearly flustered by his generosity, he chuckles. You give him a timid smile, throwing your glance to the pokeball in your hands, then back up at him. He hasn't looked away from you at all. It grows silent for a while between the two of you where you're both staring at each other - to your surprise, you’re able to maintain the eye contact without wanting to look or turn away.

Maybe it’s because you’re anticipating him to kiss you and as predicted, Raihan slowly begins to lean in. You freeze on the spot then, watching as his face comes closer and closer and your heart beats harder. It’s that giddy Butterfrees-in-the-stomach feeling again but this time, it’s strangely pleasant. His gaze lands on your lips and when he finally nears you; he pauses and flicks his glance up at you as though he’s waiting for something. Your permission, perhaps? When you don’t move, he closes the gap and gently pecks you on the lips, reaching for your hand and squeezing it. You force yourself not to move and discover you’re able to stand still. The corner of your lip tugs upwards against his mouth which causes him to grin in response as he smooches you again quickly.

When you both pull away, you mutter, "...Shall we head to Ballonlea?"

"Sure."

You place the pokeball with the newly captured Ponyta into your bag beside Goomy’s and once that's done, Raihan begins to guide you out of the woods. Hand in hand, you both walk towards the direction of Ballonlea where he would occasionally nudge you playfully using his shoulder and you would nudge him back. The only source of light comes from the glowing mushrooms but it's really relaxing to be here. You see some other pokemon in your path, including some Shiinotic and Morelull who all hide away from you, disappearing into the darkness. Up ahead and you see some gym challenger being pranked on by Impidimps. Soon, the town comes into view and you lead the way to your house where you see a cardboard box on your doorstep.

Huh, that wasn't there before...and it couldn't be mail, either.

Stopping directly in front of it, you and Raihan stare at the box and then look at each other. It says 'Open Me' and there's an awful stench emitting from inside. That wipes the smile clean off your face; Raihan steers you behind him and you quickly grab his arm. "Wait! No, don't open it. Call Looker."

He eyes the box cautiously, "...Yeah. You're right." Just as Raihan pulls out his phone, his screen flashes, indicating a call from the detective you had just mentioned. "You called at a great time."

"What happened?" You can hear Looker's gravelly voice from the receiver.

"I'm with her. There's a weird box outside her doorstep."

"Okay, I'm heading over. Don't open it."

"What do you think is inside?"

"...A dead pokemon, or parts of one, probably."

There's a brief silence before Raihan hangs up.

"A dead pokemon?!" You exclaim in shock; Raihan returns his phone and turns to you, then encircles his arms around your waist wordlessly and holds you tight against him; he's strong, you can't wriggle free from his embrace. "Raihan, we shouldn't have - this person knows where I live! And now this... this is awful!”

Raihan doesn't say anything except press his lips against your forehead in an effort to calm you down whilst rubbing your arm soothingly.

The wait for Looker is excruciatingly long.

#raihan x reader #Raihan x you #raihan #pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemonswordandshield #jeralee #fanfic #fic #archiveofmyown #wallflower #kibana

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foramomentonly · 4 years

Text

In the Dark I Know That You Do

Summary: I have a headcanon that Alex slept with a photographer overseas and, as a result, some tiny art gallery in New York is displaying artfully erotic black and white photographs of him. He signed the release form when it dropped in his inbox because the pictures made him feel powerful and sexy, and he figures no one he knows will ever see them.

Then I thought: What if Michael sees them?

Author’s Note: I feel the need to say that this fic, and all my other fics, like my blog, is Maria-friendly. Just putting that out there.

Title is lyrics from "I Want You To Love Me" by Fiona Apple.

Read on AO3

Alex hears a soft, shuttering click and turns his head.

“This okay?” Josué asks, lowering the camera from his face and smiling softly. “You’re just—so fucking gorgeous, man.”

He’s squatting naked across the room, just returned from the studio’s tiny bathroom. His thighs are thick and meaty, the muscles corded as they support the weight of his body. The sight of them makes Alex burn, makes the vivid memory of him grinding down on Alex’s cock, riding him single-mindedly as Alex gripped those same thighs tight flood his senses. Alex feels weightless, somehow simultaneously above his body, and very much in it; he feels every scratch of the stiff sheets underneath him, every delicious ache from the evening’s activities, but they only serve to elevate this heightened feeling that Alex is good and right and glorious. Alex laughs, runs a teasing hand up the length of his own naked torso, his fingers catching in his dog tags.

“It’s okay,” he says, and Josué grins, raising his camera again, the lens re-focusing and the rapid-fire, fluttering click resuming.

Alex stares down the lens, willing the camera to stop time, to capture and hold him in this moment and this feeling forever and for real. He’s twenty years old; he’s free, he’s whole, and he’s alive within himself for maybe the second time in his godforsaken life, since the moment time failed to stop in the first place and Jesse Manes had crashed into the shed and into Alex’s sacred space, defiling it and him and the only thing that had ever felt right to him. The only person. Because time, unfortunately, doesn’t work like that.

Alex hears the soft buzz of his phone vibrate on the wooden table and looks down.

“Shit,” he breathes, picking up his phone and staring at the name and subject line next to the little e-mail icon: Josué Medina, Photo Release.

“Is something wrong?” Maria asks from across the table, and five pairs of inquisitive eyes focus in his direction.

They didn’t plan this gathering, but Michael, Isobel, Max, and Liz were having a drink when Alex wandered into the Pony, and it seemed rude not to sit with them. Traffic petered out as the night went on, and Maria eventually joined them, and before he knew it Alex is nursing his third beer at a reclaimed wood table with five people who’ve been in his personal orbit for so long that it never occurred to him they haven’t actually spent much time together as a group. It’s awkward.

“Who’s José Medina?” Isobel asks, leaning shamelessly into Alex’s shoulder to better read his phone screen. Max, sitting on her other side, pulls her back.

“Iz, personal privacy?” he chides.

“It’s Ho-sway,” Alex corrects, sounding the name out phonetically. “And he’s someone I knew—Jesus, seven years ago?”

“Oooh,” Isobel drawls, “so he’s an ex.”

“He’s not an ex. He was—”

“An itch?” she supplies, and Alex kind of hates her.

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes and pretending to miss the way Michael’s briefly flash with something unreadable when they cross gazes across the table.

“So, this is a booty call?” Liz asks, chin in her hands and eyelashes fluttering suggestively. “Is he passing through town and never quite got you out of his system?”

Alex forgives her much easier; her blood is basically tequila at this point in the night.

“Seven years ago,” Maria cuts in, redirecting the conversation kindly. “You were overseas at that point, right? First tour?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I was on leave in Italy. He was—well, is a photographer, from the looks of the e-mail, but at the time he was just a student. I don’t know why he’s sending me a release form.”

Alex scans the e-mail. It’s brief pleasantries and apologies for popping up unannounced in Alex’s inbox, all written with that easy, magnetic confidence that drew Alex in so many years ago. And then there’s the ask:

There’s a call for submissions for this arthouse photo book on queer military personnel as erotic subject. It’s not fetish; it’s art. It’s a tiny press and less than fifty people will ever see it, but it would be a big deal for me. I want to submit the photo attached and I need your consent. I know it’s intimate and I understand if you aren’t comfortable. But a guy can try, right? If it helps, it’s just for us, you know? It’s not going mainstream anytime soon.

Alex doesn’t understand half of what he’s reading; well, he’s unfortunately very familiar with the dark side of fetish since he lost part of a limb and gained a prosthesis. It’s the reason he’ll never re-activate his Grindr account. But the rest goes completely over his head, so he just taps the icon to open the attached image file.

It’s.

It’s intimate, all right.

Erotic, for sure, though the image stops short of full nudity.

And, before he can really fully process what he sees, it’s tugged out of his hand by Isobel’s bony fingers.

***

Michael is trying to focus on the conversation around him—on Maria, beautiful and loose by his side; on Max, reserved, but happy, flanked by his best girls; and decidedly not on Alex, staring at his phone with a dazed expression, lips parted softly and quirked in a barely-there smile. He shouldn’t care that Alex is receiving an email from a long-lost fling, or that he’s staring at said email as though transported. Michael is so fixed on not watching Alex out of the corner of his eye that he misses Isobel leaning over to pluck Alex’s phone out of his loose grip, and jumps at Alex’s cry of protest.

“Excuse me!” Alex says, turning towards her incredulously, but making no move to take his phone back.

“Damn, Alex,” Isobel whistles, tapping at his phone with two fingers to enlarge and then zoom in on the screen. “Save a horse, ride an Airman.”

Alex rolls his eyes, but there’s a proud, playful smirk pulling at his lips.

“Lemme see!” Liz cries, reaching across Max for the phone. Max looks back and forth between Liz’s grabby hands and Isobel sliding the phone her way, then shoots Alex a plaintive, deer-in-headlights look.

Alex shrugs.

“Isobel probably already forwarded it herself,” he says easily, and Isobel nods shamelessly.

Liz picks up the phone eagerly, mouth dropping open in an exaggerated grin, hand on her chest, faux-scandalized. Michael watches Max’s eyes dart over in curiosity, then quickly away again, back straightening and eyes fixed forward. He coughs gruffly.

Liz passes the phone across the table to Maria. Maria hesitates, looks questioningly at Alex.

“It really is fine,” he assures her, eyes sliding to meet Michael’s gaze next and raising a brow, almost in a challenge. Michael gazes over Maria’s shoulder and inhales sharply.

The image is in black and white, maybe so it will pass as high art rather than cheap erotica. Though Alex in the picture looks anything but cheap. He looks—He looks fucking sinful. He’s lying on his back on a small, messy pallet bed in what looks like a sparsely-furnished studio apartment, clearly post-coital. His hair is short and messy, soft tendrils sticking out at wild angles. He’s clearly naked, but his closer leg is bent at the knee, foot planted on the mattress, preserving some semblance of modesty. Michael notices with startling clarity a small bead of sweat caught mid-roll down the crease of his hip. One arm is thrown over his head languorously, the other resting on his chest, long fingers tangled in his dog tags. He’s thin, the outline of his ribs visible thanks to the stretch of his arm, but his body is toned and tight, the small swell of his bicep and the curve of his quad and calf muscles evident even at a distance. His head is turned towards the camera, dark, hooded eyes gazing directly down the lens, full lips quirked as though in acknowledgment of his audience.

It’s the expression that truly unsettles Michael. He knows that look. Intimately. Has spent hours and days and years, a whole lifetime coaxing that look onto Alex’s face with his hands, his mouth, his reverent touch, and all the other ways he’s pressed unspoken truths into Alex’s skin. Alex is at peace, lazy and comfortable and confident in his body, in its form and how he’s using it. This is an Alex blissfully alive and shameless in his own skin, absent the unrelenting control with which he holds himself back, the careful disassociation and denial of his own needs and desires. This is Alex basking in himself rather than swallowing himself whole. It’s intimate and sexy and, until now, Michael had thought only he had seen Alex like this. Only he had earned it.

Michael tears his eyes away from the screen, away from an Alex that’s no longer just his to focus on an Alex that isn’t his at all.

“So, this guy wants to display it or something?” Liz asks.

“Sort of,” Alex says. “There’s some kind of art book he wants to submit it to.”

“Would you get paid?” Maria asks, and Alex snorts, taking his phone back from her when she holds it out to him.

“I posed for it for free, so I think that window is closed.”

“So you knew he was taking it?” Michael asks abruptly, and Alex furrows his brow.

“Yeah,” he says slowly.

Michael is suddenly aware of several pairs of eyes on him, and he nods hastily and stammers, “Good. You know. That you weren’t—that you didn’t not know.”

“So what are you gonna do?” Isobel asks, examining her manicure. She seems bored with the conversation now that there’s nothing in front of her to ogle.

Alex takes a breath, looks down at his screen again.

“I’m gonna sign the form,” he breathes, and Liz actually claps in delight.

“You sure?” Michael can’t stop himself from asking, even as Maria kicks him with the heel of her boot under the table. “Doesn’t seem like something you’d be into, is all.”

Alex narrows his eyes and quirks his lips teasingly, but there’s a bite in the tone of his voice when he asks, “You trying to slut-shame me, Guerin?”

“Never,” he drawls in return.

Their eyes lock and their smiles slowly fade.

“I would never,” Michael adds, softer and more sincere. Alex nods once, looks away.

“It’s a gorgeous photograph, Alex,” Maria says, smiling warmly at him. “If you want to share it with the world, I say go for it.”

“And I say let’s go for another round,” Isobel declares, holding up her empty glass, officially over it. “Michael, I believe this one is yours?”

“It’s mine, actually,” Alex says easily, effectively ending the conversation. He grips the table for support as he slides out of his chair and stands, pocketing his phone as he goes. “I’ll be right back.”

***

They’re saying hasty good-byes in the parking lot, Liz and Isobel piling into Max’s car, Max extremely sober behind the wheel. Maria heads back inside to help her staff close up, and Michael stands quietly with Alex, waiting on his rideshare.

“You seem pretty sober to me,” Michael comments, pulling his jacket tighter around his torso.

“I’m tired,” Alex admits, “and my leg is bothering me. It’s just easier for tonight. I’ll pick up my car tomorrow.”

He glances sideways at Michael.

“You don’t have to stand out here with me,” he says. “Go inside and help Maria.”

“Why’re you releasing that picture?” Michael blurts, not realizing the words he’s speaking until they’re out there, irretrievable, and Alex turns slowly to consider him.

“I liked remembering how I felt when Josué took it. I felt free,” he says quietly, and Michael is shocked he’s even deigning to answer. “I was far away from Roswell and everyone in it. I felt strong, like I was in control for once. Maybe if the photo’s out there, that feeling won’t seem so far away.” He smiles mischievously. “And, I mean, I looked good. Hadn’t been too long since basic.”

Michael catches his gaze, holds it.

“Did I make you feel free?”

Alex’s smile is small, but genuine.

“You used to,” he breathes. “For awhile you were the only thing that made me feel that way.”

Michael feels his whole body release, as though he’d been holding in a breath, clenching every single muscle unconsciously. Alex shakes his head.

“What?”

“That’s too much pressure,” he says. “No one person can be everything good for someone else.”

Michael looks down and kicks at the dust and grime of the parking lot with his boot, and thinks of Maria.

“I told you I couldn’t be your medicine,” Alex continues, “but I think I was doing the same thing to you. Maybe that’s why I reacted they way I did when you started acting out.”

They let his confession hang in the air between them before Michael, now in possession of a one-track mind apparently, speaks.

“So you aren’t worried someone you know is gonna see it?” Michael asks softly.

Alex shakes his head.

“That’s why it feels safe,” he says. “New York, the 'art scene.' That’s a whole nother world.”

Michael nods, stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“So, what if someone wanted to see it?”

Alex looks at him blankly.

“What if I wanted to buy a copy?” Michael explains. “I mean, you’re right. You were in spectacular shape back then.”

Alex bursts out laughing.

“Not like now,” Michael goes on, grinning as Alex’s shoulders shake. “You really let yourself go, private.”

The silence between them as their laughter dies is the most comfortable of the night.

“I’m okay with that,” Alex murmurs as a car pulls into the lot and a notification pings on his phone. “Good luck tracking it down, though.”

“Alex?” the driver of the car asks, rolling her window down an inch.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and pulls the car door open.

“Night, Guerin.”

“Sweet dreams, Fabio.”

It takes Michael three months to find the book after Alex mentions that it's out and his photo made the cut, and it takes some intense eBay stalking at that, plus he's out $60—indie press, my ass, he thinks as he clicks purchase.

#rnm #rnm fic #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #isobel evans #max evans #liz ortecho #maria deluca #maria-friendly #my fic #background miluca

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shibereshu · 4 years

Note

Hello there, I hope you're well :)) I was wondering if I could request a story with RAVN, an AU where the reader is an idol who debuted in another group. They were close friends from a previous company they trained in, parted ways, and have reunited again to perform a special stage with Trouble Maker (by Troublemaker) :O I hope that's alright with you, thank you! :))

Thank you for requesting!! I rewrote this a few times since I wasn’t entirely satisfied with how it was turning out *sighs* but I finally managed to write something that I thought you might enjoy, so I hope you do! I tried to make it gender neutral so that any reader can feel comfortable reading it !! (Also, watching the Trouble Maker stage again brought me great memories, so thank you for that

We’ve received many great requests lately that we’re working on, so if you requested something, thank you very much! As always our requests are still open! the groups we write for are in our bio and here are some prompt lists that can help you come up with a request!

Troublemaker - Kim Youngjo

“And six, seven, eight. Give me one, two, and three and four...”

Sweat dripped from your forehead, but you gave your best and followed the voice of your group leader while focusing on making your moves as wide and precise as possible. The fast beat of the song made your adrenaline rush, but the moment the song ended you couldn’t help but let your body fall on the floor, just like your fellow group mates did, and sigh in relief. You were so tired; you didn’t think you could have lasted much longer on your feet.

“Okay guys! Great job today!” You all clapped and cheered, and your leader brought two boxes full of ramyeon cups and ice cream so that you could eat something and regain some energy before leaving to the dorm.

“Woah… we looked so cool right now. I wish we could come back right now… I don’t understand why we must wait any longer, we could do the whole choreography with our eyes closed! We’ve been practicing for so long…” One of your peers complained while waiting for the food to cool down.

“I guess they are planning to release something else before our comeback, so they don’t want that to sift the focus away from our new album. I’m sure it’s for our sake, so don’t worry about it.” The leader answered.

All of you nodded in response, agreeing with those words and feeling much more relieved.

"Also! Have you guys heard about that new show where they-“

Your friend was interrupted by your manager, who suddenly entered the training room with a huge smile filling his face.

“Hello! Did practice go well?” All of the members, including you, stretched your backs and sat properly while greeting him, “Ohh, you are eating! Please, continue doing so and don’t mind me. I just wanted to say that we have big news, so, if you could come to my office when you are done so that we can discuss that, it would be great. Now, enjoy your meal.”

“Thank you, mister.” You quickly finished the food and followed the rest of the members to the manager’s office, where he was sitting down between the main producer of the company and the CEO, who immediately stood up to greet you as he saw you coming into the room.

“Oh, you are here already, hello, hello.” He gestured towards the chairs they’d prepared for you, and all of you nervously sat down, glancing between the manager and the CEO, not knowing what to expect.

The CEO cleared his throat and kept speaking, “So… I heard the preparation for your next come back is going great! I’m proud of all of you. I’m sure by now you must be wondering why we have delayed the release of the new songs so much… That’s the reason we told you to come here. We have something to announce.” He shifted his sight to your manager, who took the floor from there.

“Well… the thing is, we are organizing a concert where you will be able to premiere your new song, kind of like a huge live spoiler, with a special stage that will hopefully increase your popularity while arousing great expectation and buzz about the new album.”

You looked and the rest of your members, who all shared bright smiles and sights filled with hope and excitement.

“A special stage! But… what will it be like?” One of your friends asked, clapping with joy.

“We cannot tell you the details yet… But one of you will collaborate with a member from a popular boy group. This time, we can only choose one member, but we hope that does not lead no any time of jealousy or hatred between members. We promise to bring you more opportunities like this one in the future, so that every one of you can have their own special stage.”

The members all nodded and smiled, not giving much importance to it, “It’s okay, we are grateful for the opportunity, no matter who goes on the stage, we will all be cheering for them.”

“But, which boy group is it?”

This time, it was the general producer who spoke, “we can’t say it yet, since we will sign the papers tomorrow morning, but I have worked with them before, and I assure you, you won’t be disappointed.”

The manager smiled and spoke up as well, “We will also announce the person who will go on the stage tomorrow, after lunch. That was everything we wanted to tell you, so please go and rest now, and we will see each other tomorrow.”

Your friends kept trying to guess which boy group it would be on your way to the dorm, but you didn’t think much about it, although… you couldn’t help but wonder… what if the group was…? No, there’s no way… You thought, shaking your head and trying to think about something else.

Finally home, you threw yourself on your bed and picked up a box of snacks to munch on while you waited for your mates to take a shower before you could do so yourself. You were reading a news article on your phone when it buzzed on your hand, signaling that you’d received a new message.

Kim Youngjo [23:14]: hey (y/n), home already?

It was Kim Youngjo, also known as Ravn, his stage name. Ravn and you knew each other for more than six years, since you had been trainees at the same company before. He changed companies and debuted with a boy group called Oneus, which was popular all over the country, and you also changed companies less than a month after he did and managed to debut with your own group. Sadly, you didn’t hang out together anymore, due to your busy schedules and fear of the nasty comments some people might make. Still, you texted each other pretty often, and you considered him one of your closest friends.

You sent him a picture of yourself, holding a snack in front of the camera and delivering him a wink. You knew he would still be in his company building, and you liked to tease him showing how comfortable you were on your bed, enjoying snacks while he still had to train. You would never do that to anyone else, but with him, it was kind of a private joke by now. He would always respond with another picture of himself, and this time it was him showing off his recently dyed greenish hair, drenched in sweat. He looked as if he was trying to frown, to show how annoying your picture was, but his smile proved he was not mad at all.

Kim Youngjo [23:16]: We are almost done for today… I’m craving snacks now!!

You kept chatting for a bit longer, until you heard your friends calling you and had to say goodbye to him. You were really happy for him, and obviously also for yourself, since you had been able to debut in a wonderful group which was loved by many incredible people. But still, some part of you wished you had more freedom, and could meet your friend and spend as much time with him as you used to…

You took the shower you needed after a long day of hard work, and while the warm drops of water ran down your skin and soothed your sore muscles, a wild thought came to your mind. It would be wonderful… if someday I had the opportunity to share the stage with him…

The next day started just like any other. You went to the main building, where you trained for hours until you had your lunch break and then went back to training. However, as you were on your way back to the dancing room, you heard your manager calling out your name.

“(y/n)! Did you eat already?” He rushed towards you, and you stopped walking and bowed at him politely.

“Yes sir! I was on my way back to practice.”

“Great! Follow me, please, I need to talk to you.” He turned his back at you and walked into his office, and you followed his instructions.

You felt your insides turn, even though you couldn’t think of anything that you’d done wrong. But if it wasn’t because of that, why would he be calling you to his office? Did he want you to advise him on which member to choose for the special stage? That might be it… If he asks me, I should go for our leader, shouldn’t I? they have worked so hard for this comeback… but what about our main dancer? I should ask him first if he’s looking for a dancer or a singer… Or could it be our rapper?

“…so after he comes you will have to start practicing the song together, but I know you will learn the choreography very fast, so it won��t be a problem. Ehm… (y/n)? Are you listening to me?”

You had zoomed out, so you had no idea what he was talking about, “Sorry, mister! I zoomed out for a moment… Could you… repeat that?”

He sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes as he did so, “I swear young people nowadays never have their head where it should be. I said you were chosen for the stage, so take your things and wait for the other idol so that you can go to the practice room together.”

“I was… what? The special stage? Wait…” You kept stuttering and mumbling, trying to make sense of what he’d told you.

A knock was heard on the door, and a producer from the company came in, “Mister, could I talk to you for a moment? We need your opinion on this new idea…”

“Yeah, sure! We just finished here. (y/n), thank you for your time, he will be here very soon, so don’t worry, you have a lot of time to practice together. Okay sir, let me hear that idea…”

You left the room, confused about what just happened, and decided to head to the restroom before doing anything else. Once you’d finished there and had splashed cold water on your face, which made you feel a bit more confident about the whole thing, you went back to the lobby, where you ran into a familiar person.

You froze, looking at the boy who stood in front of you, taking in his dark brown eyes and the green spikes that covered his bangs.

“Young… Youngjo? What the hell are you doing here?!” Your old friend expression changed into a surprised one and his huge smile made him squint his eyes.

“(y/n)! I wanted to give you a surprise, that’s what I didn’t tell you I was coming to your company!” He laughed and pulled you into his arms, “It’s so good to see you again!”

You let your hands rest on his back and let yourself enjoy his embrace for a moment, “I missed you, Ravn”

He laughed, not used to you calling him by his stage name.

“So, which one’s the way to the practice room?”

“The… the practice room?”

“Of course! We have a stage to prepare for, don’t we?”

A thousand thoughts crossed your mind at that moment. You pushed him away with shock and looked straight into his eyes, “Are you… are we doing the stage together?”

“What? You don’t want to? I already practiced my part of the choreography… and I feel confident to say anyone would like to take your spot.” He smirked and rested his hands on your hips, “But I want you to be the one. Let’s make trouble together.”

You both ran into the practice room, laughing and dancing around. You flashed your hips at him while he showed you his part and sang the chorus of the song. And at that moment, you realized, that was all you’d ever wanted.

The day of the performance, the crowd went crazy. You had great chemistry, and it showed. Youngjo and you danced in perfect synchronization, his hands resting on your boding as if that was where they belonged. Every time his face was in front of yours, he would wink at you, and there was no trace of awkwardness, since you felt the most comfortable around each other. The fans went crazy when your hands travelled down his torso, and then again when he had his solo dance break, which you observed with pride. The song came to an end, and Youngjo took your hands into his and gave you the most heart-warming smile you’d ever seen. It had been a total success, and everyone loved it so much, they kept asking for more.

You’d thought you would never be able to go on the stage with him. But there you were, and, you had to admit, you were a killing duo.

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#oneus #oneus scenarios #oneus imagines #kim youngjo #ravn #oneus ravn #kpop #kpop scenarios #ravn scenarios #ravn au #admin isa

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smilexcaptainx · 4 years

Text

Rumors | Tom Holland

Wanna be part of my Imagines Tag List?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Requested: Anonymous

Request: I'm going to need a Tom Holland imagine where he's dating a fan but is keeping it a secret from the world. At first, the reader was pretty calm about it, but Tom started getting set up with these other gorgeous girls and it started to really upset her. She goes home to clear her mind, not responding back to Tom and it worries him. When he finds her, he kisses her and reassures her that she's all he wants. The next day, they're all over the celebrity news but they couldn't care less. Thanks! ily

A/N: I love you too. I hope you enjoy!

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2.2K

masterlist

Tom adjusted his position in his chair and nodded to the interviewer in affirmation that he was ready for the interview to commence. The interviewer motioned at the camera man to start rolling and from there on, the interview began. Tom always had trouble focusing on days where it was interview after interview, all he wanted was to be in his apartment room with his significant other (Y/N), snuggled up and laughing at hilarious movies.

Tom tried his best to give his full attention to the interview, but his thoughts always steered back to you. In the midst of talking about his new movie, the question about his co-star Zendaya had been brought up. Of course they think that him and her are dating, but Tom shot down those thoughts.

“Zendaya is such a lovely woman,” tom responded genuinely. “I’ve enjoyed shooting this movie with her, but we’re not to the point where we’re dating.”

“If Zendaya is out of the picture, does that mean you’ve got your eyes on somebody else?” the interviewer asked. Tom sighed, he could never catch a break. “Are you dating somebody Tom?”

Tom’s mind scrambled with words, the temptation of speaking (Y/N)’s name was difficult to push down. Tom’s silence raised the tension within the room and the camera man started zooming in on Tom’s face, immediately catching his attention. His soft brown eyes stare into the lens, his lips forming into a smile. Before it came any closer, Tom shifted his eyes back to the interviewer and shook his head.

“I’m not at the moment, no.”

Those six words caused his heart to ache. He understood that you hated the idea of the world knowing that he was dating you because you were a fan, but every time he had to confess a lie to the world, it didn’t make him very happy. He wanted to brag about you, he wanted to tell everyone he knew how amazing you were, but those thoughts always got pushed away whenever people asked the dating area.

Tom could tell that the interviewer didn’t buy it, but he continued anyways with the other questions. Tom answered plainly to the questions, it seemed to all be the same at the moment. After everything was done, he shook the hands of everybody in the room and exited, his excitement rising when he realized he was going to go back to his apartment and embrace his lover. Tom pulled out his phone to call (Y/N), only to find a text message from his manager.

“Reminder that you have a photo shoot tomorrow at eight in the morning.”

Tom wasn’t familiar with the names that followed the text message of who was going to be part of the photo shoot. He didn’t think too much about it and continued to his car, he just wanted to get to his apartment room where he knew you were waiting for him.

—

Tom was so eager to see you, he sped up the stairs instead of taking the elevator. Although his room was on the fifth floor, he had no problem running up the stairs, knowing that you were at the end. Once Tom made it to his floor, he darted toward his room and used his key card to get in. The door swung open and his eyes fell upon the most gorgeous person he had ever laid his eyes on.

“Tom!”‌

Tom closed the door behind him and turned around with arms out of wide. You went racing straight into them. Tom caught you and wrapped his arms tightly around you. You held onto him as he spun around, laying soft kisses along your neck. You giggled in response, ecstatic to be in the arms of your loved one. Although Tom wished he could hold you forever, he put you down when he felt the constant buzzing coming from his phone.

You stood there as Tom pulled out his phone and read the text messages. Tom’s facial expressions weren’t very convincing that what he was reading was good.

“What is it Tom?” you asked softly. “You don’t seem very happy.”

Tom tried to brush it off but you kept pushing it. It wasn’t long before Tom just gave in and told you about the photo shoot that was going to be held tomorrow. You didn’t see what the big deal was, but when he said the names of the women who were going to be taking pictures with him, your heart sank. Tom didn’t seem to know who the women were, but you definitely did. They were the models that you wished you could look like ever since you saw them on the front of the Vogue magazine.

At this exact moment, you had to put your full trust in Tom. You had to trust him he wouldn’t fall for the women he was about to meet tomorrow. You’ve heard numerous things about those models, all positive. You knew that Tom had your heart, but that little piece of you was terrified to be forgotten as soon as a more beautiful woman walked into his line of sight. You tried not to show your concern and spent the rest of Tom’s day off with the way he wanted to, snuggled up and watching funny movies.

—

You lied awake while Tom was fast asleep right beside you. You were on your phone, your screen on the lowest light. Tom was sleeping on his side, his back faced toward you. You were sitting up against the back of the bed. The fact that Tom was breathing pretty loudly meant that he was out. You took that moment to look up the names of the women that he was going to go take a photo shoot with. You couldn’t even type the entire name without the thought of Tom leaving you came crawling into your thoughts.

You already knew who they were. You already knew they were more gorgeous than you would ever be, and that upset you to a whole other level. You took one last glance to your sleeping lover before quietly sliding off of the bed. You froze as you heard Tom release a soft groan, indicating he was going to turn over, but to your luck, he didn’t awake. You released a sigh of relief before slipping out of his apartment room.

—

Tom ran his fingers through his hair as his other hand was holding his phone up against his cheek. He woke up to an empty bed, and nothing left behind from you. No note. No text message. Nothing. Tom’s stomach churned with worry as he was sent to voicemail once again. He wanted to slam his phone on the floor in frustration. Where were you? His mind flooded with all the bad situations that you could have gotten into last night.

Were you mad at him? Is that why you left? Tom went to his messages, reading all messages he sent you. It didn’t even say you read them. Tom’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. Where could you be?

—

Tears streamed down your face as your mother held you in her arms. You had just poured out your entire heart to her. All your worries, all your fears, and they all connected to Tom. You knew that you couldn’t tell anybody about your relationship with Tom because you knew that his fans would automatically go to accusation that you’re using Tom for fame. You had to go somewhere to clear your mind, and home was the first place to come to mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Tom, you just needed time to think.

Your mother was always the best listener, whether it be about something stupid that happened throughout your day, or when you need to have a serious chat with her. She had given you her side of things and her words were definitely words of comfort. Those next few hours were passed with a movie with you and your mother. As soon as the movie ended, a knock came at your door.

You stood up from the couch and walked over to the door.‌ The second the door opened, you instantly saw that it was Tom. Once the door was all the way open, Tom didn’t say a word and tackled you with a hug. You were taken back a few steps from the force of his hug. You didn’t even question his action and hugged him tightly back.

“I knew you would be here (Y/N),” tom said, his voice shaking. “I thought you were hurt. You worried the hell out of me babe.”

Babe. That was something he hadn’t called you before. That was something new. You knew that you and Tom had been dating, but he never has called you other than your name. You tried not to overthink it as Tom let go of you. His hand gripped your shirt and he instantly pulled you into a kiss. His lips tasted sweet, just like he was. When the kiss ended, you could see tears rising in his eyes.

“You don’t understand how scared I was (Y/N),” he said, taking both of your hands and holding them tightly. “I love you so much (Y/N).”

Your heart skipped a beat. Tom said it. He really said it. The clock behind his head came into focus and you noticed that it was ten o’clock.

“Wait, Tom, didn’t you say that your photo shoot was at eight o’clock?” you asked. “Did it get cancelled or something?”

Tom shook his head. “No, I cancelled it. I told them I couldn’t make it because I was sick.”

You giggled. “Typical Tom.”

“Why’d you leave?” he asked right off the bat. “Are you mad at me or something? I’m sorry if you are. I didn’t mean whatever I did.”

You sighed. The subject that you were about to bring up was something that you had never brought up around Tom. Your eyes already stung with tears just thinking about the situation. Tom pulled you closer and laid his forehead against yours.

“Babe, whatever it is, you can tell me,” he whispered softly. “I’m here for you.”

From there on you expressed the same words that you told your mother, and with the same tears, maybe even more. All Tom did was listen and hold you close, a few tears sliding down his cheek as well. Tom was sad when you were sad, and he was happy when you were happy. In this moment, all he could do was comfort you.

When you were finished, your eyes were locked on the ground, completely avoiding Tom’s gaze.

“(Y/N), look at me, please,” he pleaded. You sniffled, your eyes remaining on the ground. “I want you to look at me (Y/N).”

Since you weren’t giving any reaction, embarrassed to look him in the eyes, he placed his index finger underneath your chin and raised your head up. The corner up his lips rose slightly as his eyes made contact with yours.

“You’re all I ever wanted (Y/N), I mean, I admit I was skeptical of dating a fan,” tom admitted. “but it wasn’t long until I realized that you were more than a fan. You’re the girl of my dreams. The one I’ve been searching for. Everything that I wanted in a girl, is in you. You’re my dream girl (Y/N), and I’m so happy that you came into my life. Nobody out there is going to make me think otherwise. There is nobody prettier, cuter and sweet than you. I’ve chosen you, and it will always be you.”

Those words sent chills down your spine. The way he spoke it so smoothly broke you down to tears. Tom was dropping a few tears at the end of his speech as well. It seemed to have moved them both. Tom held you close and you couldn’t love anybody else more. Tom kissed the top of your forehead.

“Everytime I see you (Y/N),” tom said quietly. “I always think to myself, “Damn, I’m so lucky.” and I’m always going to be thinking that.”

“Me too babe,” you smiled, the word “babe” just rolling off your tongue. “I love you so much.”

Tom kept you in his arms, feeling completely blessed with having you in his arms. The rest of the day, he took you out to your favorite fast food restaurant, totally ignoring the consequences that he knew that were going to come. You two went back to his apartment room and you stayed the night. That night, Tom held you in his arms the entire night. He never wanted to let you go ever again, he wanted to hold you forever.

—

The next morning, Tom was awake and cooking up a breakfast for you and him. Your phone was exploding with text messages from your friends and you already knew what it was going to be about. You went to Twitter and your predictions were right, you and Tom were blowing the internet up. Normally you wouldn’t be very happy, but the experience you had with Tom last night made you realize that you shouldn’t hide the fact that you’re dating such an amazing guy like him.

Fame didn’t even cross your mind when it came to Tom. All you knew what his cheekiness and he love he had for you. Instead of focusing on what his fans would think of you and him, you knew that you only had to focus on the now and there. You knew the real Tom and that he genuinely was in love with you, and because you have the knowledge of that, you couldn’t care less about whether the whole world knew, and neither did Tom.

The End

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