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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

1. Soulmates AU please! It is definitely my guilty pleasure trope

hello im only three months ish late maybe four but this is also 3.4k long and it's just wild i mean we're talking soul mates, superheroes, rushed world building, superhero names this is a trip this is something i wrote after waking up from a four hour nap this ever had a chance and also it's sad

1. Soul Mates (+ 42. Star Crossed Lovers)

“You shouldn’t have come,” Obi-Wan says harshly, pulling the children--they’re just goddamn children--into his apartment and slamming the door behind them. “Did anyone see you?”

The children--all four of them--stay quiet. Obi-Wan wants to wring their necks. He knows why they’re here. He’d rather them die on the streets than suffer through what they’re obviously here about.

But if that were really true, he would have just left them on his doorstep.

“Did anyone see you?” he asks again.

“Not that we noticed,” one of the girls in the middle says. Shili, dressed in a blue and white striped sensible jumpsuit and sporty cape. The leader of the new generation of superheroes and she sounds like she hasn’t even hit puberty yet.

Obi-Wan is suddenly very, very tired.

“Kam,” Shili gestures to the person next to her and a little behind, a tall boy with a helmet covering his face and white and blue armor covering the rest of him, “says he didn’t pick up anything with his sensors. We were safe. We’re not trying to get you caught, sir. We just need to talk to you.”

“You could kick us out,” the other girl points out, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s not even bothering to wear a domino mask, but Obi-Wan doubts very much he’s looking at her real appearance. She’s Mirial, of course.

Which makes the other boy in a padded white and orange suit Mando. Four of the fifty or so remaining Jedi superheroes are in his house.

Obi-Wan sighs and turns to pad down the hallway. “Shoes off,” he calls behind his shoulder. “And does anyone want any tea?”

“No thank you,” Shili responds politely, falling into step behind him.

“Sit,” he tells them roughly when he notices the four of them standing awkwardly in his cramped dining room. “Sit down.”

He puts the kettle on anyway, and bangs around the cabinets for a few seconds to find an unopened bag of chips and a sleeve of probably stale cookies.

He doesn’t have much else to offer them though. Not now.

Weren’t you the one always telling me to eat my vegetables? A laughing voice murmurs into his ear. Look at you now.

Obi-Wan has to stand for a second in his small and dirty kitchen, chips clutched in one hand and cookies in the other, and breathe for an impossibly long moment.

This is why he had not wanted to ever see another Jedi in his life. All they brought with them were questions and ghosts.

Obi-Wan has enough of those as it is.

The kettle goes off and he pours the hot water into his mug. The cowardly part of him that hasn’t faced a fight in ten years now wants to wait here until the tea has finished steeping and then think of a thousand other excuses to not ever leave the kitchen again. He's good at thinking of excuses. He calls them reasons and lives his life with them.

But he has always known someone would eventually come looking for answers. That had always been one of the prices he knew he would eventually have to pay.

He notices immediately upon entering the dining room that they’ve saved him a seat, if it counts as saving someone a seat when they’ve rearranged the chairs so one is on one side of the table and the other two are squeezed opposite it.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ve brought snacks to my own interrogation,” he says blithely, depositing them onto the table in front of the children.

Kamino stares intently at them for a second, and then nods once to Shili, who reaches out to open the bag of chips. In a show of good faith, she takes one and eats it. Obi-Wan can’t see her eyes underneath the white lenses of her domino mask, but he’s quite sure she hasn’t stopped looking at him once.

“Are you sure you do not want tea, now we have established I am not going to poison you?” he asks, crossing his ankles and taking a sip from his own mug.

“It’s a bit too warm out there for hot tea,” Mirial says disdainfully, looking at her nails. “You know, what with the world on fire.”

“But I’d take an iced one, if you have it,” Shili leans forward.

Obi-Wan pauses, drink halfway to his mouth.

He sets it down gently on the wood of his table. “Ah. Going straight in, aren’t we?”

“There’s not much time for anything else,” Mando says, and at least he sounds a bit apologetic.

“A weighty statement from someone who can manipulate time itself,” Obi-Wan hums.

“Only for a few seconds,” Mando mutters behind his helmet, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“That’s because you don’t have much in the way of training, young man,” Obi-Wan tells him gently with a hint of steel behind it “Back in my day--”

He cuts himself off. He doesn’t know why. Clearly, they know who he used to be. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. He’s really just delaying the inevitable, but his throat feels tight. This truth, so long unspoken, is hard to drag into his mouth. And yet, every second he doesn’t speak it, it’s bashing itself to death against the backs of his teeth.

“Would you like us to tell you what we’ve found out about your days?” Mirial asks, looking up from her nails. “Would that make it easier for you, Ilum?”

“Meer--” Shili starts to say, reaching out to touch the girl’s arm, rein her in, but it’s too late.

The planes of Mirial’s face change and shift and suddenly for the first time in ten years, Anakin Skywalker is sitting across from him. “Would you like to talk about the old days, or would you like me to talk about the old days?” Mirial in Anakin’s smooth baritone asks.

It’s cruel. It’s so cruel that for a second Obi-Wan wishes his heart could just stop from the pain of it all. “Please put that away,” he tells the tabletop coldly. “And please. Do not call me that.”

“Meer,” Shili murmurs, and there’s a shift in the air.

When Obi-Wan looks back up, Mirial is back to the way she always appears in press releases, green skin and all. “That was a decent impression,” he tells her. She bristles at the perceived slight, but he holds up his hand. “But when I knew him, his eyes weren’t gold. They were blue.”

“Mustafar has had golden eyes since he joined the Imps,” Mirial argues back in a way that reminds Obi-Wan of another young teenager, who never could learn how to take criticism well.

“And he was someone else before then,” he tells the girl. “He had another name and he had a mother and he had a soulmate and a--fiancee and everything.”

His hands have started to shake, so he clasps the mug tightly, though it burns him.

“Tell us,” Shili insists forcefully but compassionately. Obi-Wan had wondered before why they had chosen to make the girl whose only ability is to fly the leader of the newest Jedi team, but it must be that. It must be her compassion. “Please. You’re the only one who can.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says. “I know. I’m the only one who is left. But if I am to demask myself, I will not do it to a table of strangers.”

The children turn to look at each other. Kamino cocks his head at Shili, who inclines her own head. Mirial shrugs. Mando shakes his head once, but Shili seems to override him, because she turns back to Obi-Wan and takes off her domino mask.

“My name is Ahsoka Tano,” she says, stumbling over the name. Obi-Wan wonders how many times she’s unmasked herself before. “Or Shili.”

She nudges Mirial, who sighs. “I’m Barriss,” she tells him grudgingly.

Kamino takes off his helmet to reveal a strong-jawed boy with a blond buzzcut. “His name is Rex,” Ahsoka says. “He can’t speak except through minds.”

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise at this. He had known that Kamino had an advanced sense of the senses, could tell something’s molecular makeup just by looking at it, could smell a gas leak from two miles away, etcetera, etcetera, but he hadn’t known the boy could communicate telepathically as well.

“And I’m his twin,” Mando sighs, taking off his own helmet and revealing a startlingly similar face, marred by a scar just across his temple. “Cody.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Obi-Wan tells them, drumming his fingers on the table. “You know already. I fought under the name Ilum. I could--”

He searches for words to describe his own powers, and settles instead on a demonstration. With a flick of his hand, the liquid in the mug rises and freezes into a miniature wave, suspended in the air.

He lets the ice drop into the mug, and inclines his head to Ahsoka. “Iced tea?” he asks wryly.

“Tell us about Mustafar,” Mando demands. What a heavy thing to carry, Obi-Wan finds himself thinking. The knowledge of all that time.

What Obi-Wan wouldn’t give to be ten years younger again. Not to even change anything, though he would be stupid to not try to. But to just enjoy the moment for what it had been in the end: just a moment.

“We didn’t call him that then,” Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “We called him Iego in uniform, and Anakin in civvies.

“He was...radiant. In battle and off the field. I was the leader of our team for six years until Anakin came along. And I just knew as soon as I saw him that he would take everything from me. But he wouldn’t have had to take it. I would have given it to him right then.”

“I didn’t think he was that attractive,” Ahsoka mumbles, and then slaps a hand over her mouth as if afraid she’s spoken out of turn and ruined the story so completely that Obi-Wan won’t say anything else.

Instead, Obi-Wan laughs but it doesn’t sound much like a laugh at all. “Well, to each is his own, of course,” he says when he thinks the hysteria has worn off. “And finding out he carried my soul mark certainly helped.”

The room is blissfully silent, which Obi-Wan is beyond thankful for. He just wants to let those never-before admitted truths hang in the air, just for a few more seconds. He almost wants to say them again actually. Anakin Skywalker is my soulmate. Anakin Skywalker carries the same mark I carry, and he always has.

“But…” Barriss says slowly, “But Mustafar’s soulmark is on his neck.”

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan murmurs, staring at the wall behind their heads. “What he has on his neck is an ice burn scar in the shape of a hand. In the shape of my hand. His actual soul mark is on his mid-back, right over his spine.”

“You tried to kill your soulmate?” Ahsoka gasps, looking horrified.

Obi-Wan smiles with no joy behind it. “I tried to save the world,” he corrects her gently.

“You said earlier…” Cody speaks up. “That Mustafar--that Anakin had a fiancee. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“No,” Obi-Wan admits. “I never told him. I...couldn’t. I wanted to wait I suppose. I. Well. My soulmark is identical to his, but it’s on my thigh. And. You know what they say about a soulmatch whose marks aren’t in the same spot.” “Star crossed,” Ahsoka whispers.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirms. “I decided to wait. I was a few years older than him, he had so much to learn, he needed a friend more than he needed a soulmate. I had a long list of reasons, all as iron-clad as the next. But they were excuses. I was afraid. This man, my soulmate, could control fire and sunlight itself. He burned with passion, shone with power. And I...I was cold. Too pragmatic, too quick to criticize when he needed praise. The marks were just marks. Maybe they fit together, maybe they matched. But I was terrified that we wouldn’t.

“And by the time I thought to tell him, he came to find me instead. He was in love, he said. He had been seeing a girl for months and was going to ask her to marry him. And I suppose I must have asked about his soulmate, because he told me he would rather never know his soulmate, if knowing meant losing her.”

So. So Obi-Wan had let him go, though that part doesn’t make for a good story. He had distanced himself as much as he could get away with, which is not much really, seeing as how Iego and Ilum fought best when they fought together.

But in the end, his heartbreak had been too much, even for someone as cold as Obi-Wan had been known to be. He’d put in for a temporary transfer. A remedial medical leave, a Jedi-sanctioned sabbatical so he could ostensibly connect with himself and his powers. Nothing longer than a year.

You’ll miss the wedding, Anakin had told him, heartbreak shining in his own eyes.

But his heartbreak had been nothing compared to Obi-Wan’s, and so he had left. He had needed to. It had felt like rending his soul in two, but he had.

Two weeks into his stay at a different Jedi training base, Obi-Wan had died in an explosion. “That hadn’t been Jedi sanctioned,” he tells the children in front of him wryly. “We thought it was an accident at the time, but there were too many coincidences. Too many casualties.” But Obi-Wan’s death had been the only casualty Anakin had felt. It hadn’t mattered that someone had managed to restart his heart only a few minutes later. He had died. He had died and Anakin had felt his soulmate die. He had burned his fiancee in his own uncontrollable agony. She had not survived Obi-Wan’s death, even though Obi-Wan himself had.

“I...I don’t know what happened. Still. It’s been years and I have thought of little else. She may have been standing too close to him when it happened. Or...the house may have caught on fire and she was trapped inside. Or...I don’t know. I don’t know,” he spreads his hands palm up on the table and looks at the faces of the children.

He sighs and continues. There is so little left in the story now. “The Jedi Order decided to tell the press that there had been no survivors, though there had been a few. We couldn’t know if the Imperials were behind the attack or not, so we had to be careful. The survivor’s families were told, and their soulmates. Officially, I had no family. I had...no soulmate. They didn’t tell anyone I had survived. Ilum died in that explosion. Still to this day, he's dead.

“Anakin had always been absurdly powerful...and dangerous. He’d killed the love of his life, had felt his soulmate dying, and then...heard that I too had died. The first two had destabilized him, but my death and the Jedi Order’s staunch rejection of his request to see my body, to give me a funeral...it made him even more vulnerable to outside manipulation.”

“The Imperials….” Cody murmurs.

Obi-Wan nods, lip curling up. “The Imperials,” he agrees. “The timeline is fuzzy. I spent a good part of these weeks partially dead, one foot in both worlds. I didn’t know what was going on. When I was well enough to watch the news, the Jedi told me there was a new super villain working with the Imperials, going by the name Mustafar. I trained to kill him as he was helping the Imps decimate the Jedi. All of my old team was dead. Anakin was missing. I didn’t--”

He cuts himself off and runs a hand down his face. The children are waiting on his words. He’s telling them why they’re fighting wars adults should be fighting. He’s telling them why they’re out in the field after only a month or less of training. He’s trying to tell them why he isn’t out there fighting with them, but he knows already they won’t accept his excuses.

They shouldn’t have to.

“They gave me a new uniform and a new name,” Obi-Wan picks up the story. “Hoth. And I went off to kill my soulmate.”

“But you didn’t,” Barriss says, and she sounds vaguely confused and vaguely accusatory.

“I almost did,” Obi-Wan admits, like it’s a sin, like it's salvation. “Everything about him was different. He was not the passionate but warm boy I had known. He was a forest fire. A volcano. And Mustafar’s fighting style was completely different from Iego’s. I only realized it was Anakin--my Anakin--when I managed to knock his mask off. I had my hand around his throat, but when I realized who I was fighting...I let go. I couldn’t kill him. Even after everything he did. Even knowing...knowing Iego was gone.”

The dining room is silent for a second, before three voices burst out angrily at once.

“Why aren’t you helping the Jedi?” Ahsoka asks the loudest. “Hoth--Ilum, Obi-Wan. We need you. Mustafar--the Imperials...they’re not going to stop. They’ve killed so many Jedi. We need you to help us.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. “I cannot.”

“You used to be a hero,” Barriss accuses. “Now what are you? A hollowed out, sad man.”

“I was never a hero,” he snaps. “I followed orders. Anyone can do that.”

“You were the best,” Cody says quietly, cutting Obi-Wan to the bone. “You led the Geonosis team for six years. I studied you in class. You were...the best.”

“I wasn’t,” Obi-Wan disagrees just as quietly. “But perhaps you all are.”

“You haven’t even told us any weakness we could use against him in battle!” Barriss shouts, standing up suddenly, which causes the chair to clatter over. “You’ve been no help at all! I’m leaving, this is a waste of time!”

“Barriss--!” Ahsoka cries after the girl, grabbing her discarded mask and taking after her.

Cody opens his mouth and then closes it. He jams the helmet back onto his head. “The soulmark. You said it’s on his hip?”

Obi-Wan smiles mirthlessly. Cody is trying to see if he can catch him in a lie, if this is actually good tactical information or not. “It��s a few inches below his shoulder blades, right over his spine.”

Cody nods once and then files out, leaving Obi-Wan alone in the room with the silent, still helmetless Rex.

“I just told him how to kill my supervillain soulmate,” Obi-Wan tells Rex, even though he’s really talking to himself. “Soulmarks, even dead ones, are extremely sensitive. If Anakin had hit me with his fire on my other thigh, I would be dead. Not just crippled. Muscle, young man, doesn’t grow back easily.”

He rubs a hand over the leg in question, staring down at the uneven way his pants lay over the old injury. It aches from the walking he’s forced it to do today, from trying to walk normally im front of these powerful strangers.

Rex taps the table to get him to look up, and then gestures to his own eyes.

“I?” Obi-Wan asks, confused.

Rex rolls his eyes and then mimes writing something.

“Ah, there should be a pen and pad in the kitchen?” he trails off as the teenager goes to retrieve the aforementioned things.

It takes a second longer than it should, and he comes out carrying just a slip of paper with his helmet forced back onto his head.

With a flick of his fingers, the paper’s lying on the table and Rex is following his teammates out the door and out of Obi-Wan’s apartment and hopefully out of his life forever.

Curious, Obi-Wan grabs the note and unfolds it to read.

We thought Musta. had yel. eyes because all the top Imps have yel. eyes. But if Ankn had blue eyes, then mybe none of the imps should have yel eyes.

No one knows what sidious power is -> what if it’s mind control?

Obi-Wan puts the note down onto the table with shaking hands. He wishes desperately he had never read it.

Because those words plant a seed of hope in his chest he isn’t sure he’ll be able to live without now.

What if Anakin--his Anakin--what if he’s in there still? What if Obi-Wan had abandoned him to ten years of brainwashing and mind control with not much of a fight at all?

But more pressingly, what if there’s hope for him? For both of them? Still, after all this time?

#asks #my fics #look i did another prompt #obikin #superheroes au #i was thinkin of the robert frost fire and ice poem when i went to sleep #and this was the result lmao #obviously they end up together #idk what to tell you #probably big moment for anakin who still thinks obi-wan is dead #for him to show up ten years older than he ever thought he'd see him #limping and being called hoth #i liked the superhero names being after the planets they're from (i mean mostly #iego is cause of the angels thing and obi-wan is like oof hes radiant hes great hes an angel)#hes a mass murderer (again) is what he is #god i hope this fic makes sense its 4:41 #prompt fill

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ super duper party people ✦

this chapter pairing; incubus!96z(Jun/Hoshi/Wonwoo/Woozi) x reader

genre&warnings; this is literally a 5-some djfhsd(96z gangbang hskshdksjh). incubus!seventeen, double penetration/anal, blowjobs, handjobs, cum eating, bukakke, (minor)subspace, tentacles(as if there weren’t enough cocks in this), 2woo(wonwoo/woozi) have a (minor)crying kink don’t look at me, degradation/namecalling/dumbification, dirty talk. ☠️ hooooooly jesus please dont come for me kdfks 😩😩😩

notes; *hypnagogia is that weird threshold between being awake and being asleep where some people experience hallucinations/lucid dreaming/sleep paralysis. Also i have no excuses for this one LMAOOO SKJHFKJH this is def me indulging but thats what halloween is all about right? 🥴 SINS AND DECADENCE!! So enjoy~ have a good day/night!! stay hydrated and I'll see u tomorrow!! (also I accidentally sandwiched this one in between jun and wonwoo’s indiv fics so we got 96z action 3 days in a row kjfhsdkhf)🎃👻 💕

word count; ~3500

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

ooh, all the girls and boys on the dance floor,

and they lose all their heads to the groove of the record;

drink a little velvet so you get into the beat,

strike a bolt of lighting and become a superfreak!

Club Hypnagogia was a small club.

A hole in the wall space tucked away on the further side of town that people tried to avoid after the sun went down. Most people knew it to be where the seedier characters tended to lurk, but the small niche knew it to be where the more supernatural characters gathered instead.

You take a sip of your drink, eyes already focused on the two males standing across the club. It wasn’t as busy tonight which came as a shock to you considering it was Halloween night, but they’d caught your eye as soon as you’d walked in and you found yourself unable to look away.

One was much taller than the other but both of them had the same sultry smirk painted on their lips and you soon found yourself already drawn to their allure as you abandon your drink and make your way across the club.

You already knew what you were in for when you stopped in front of them.

“My, my, such a pretty ‘lil thing, aren’t you?” The taller one comments.

You take in their appearances; red and black outfits that showed off their bodies and they also made no effort to hide their crimson eyes and black horns either.

“You’re Soonyoung’s plaything, correct me if I’m wrong.” The shorter one teases; lips easing into a knowing smile.

“Soonyoung’s? I thought she was Jun’s?”

Oops.

The two of them share a look, brows raised at you as you bite your lip. “Um…”

“Interesting. I take it you’re a regular around here then?” The taller one asks, stepping closer to you as you immediately feel their energy pour over you in an instant. “I---I guess you can s-say that…” You mumble.

“D’you think either of them would get mad about this, Wonwoo?”

“Dunno. Let’s find out.”

Wonwoo and Jihoon.

That’s what their names were.

They came as a set; nothing more and nothing less.

Unlike Soonyoung and Jun who always came individually, unwilling to share their time with you.

“Look at you, crying while you choke on Jihoon’s cock.” Wonwoo laughs, legs crossed as he sits in a chair across the bed. “Does Soonyoung make you cry prettily too? Or maybe Jun?” Jihoon’s hands tangle in your hair, holding you still as he thrusts into your mouth. You gag around his cock as your own fingertips rub at yourself through your panties that already stick to you like a second skin.

“She’s even touching herself while she chokes on my cock like a good fuckin’ cockslut.”

Wonwoo gets up from his seat, cropped top shifting slightly to show off his toned abs and slim waist as he joins the two of you on the king size bed. Thank god for the private rooms, you’d said.

He sizes up behind you, his hand over Jihoon’s as he holds your head still for the other male. “Bet you’re already thinking about both of our cocks inside of you at the same time, huh?” There’s a pause and a smirk from Wonwoo, “You wanna be a good plaything for us and let us use your holes like a good cock hungry slut but what are you gonna do about that mouth of yours, hmm? Nothing to keep it filled.”

Jihoon catches his drift, a smirk of his own plastered onto his features as he cuts your airways off with his cock. “Should we invite some friends? Y’know, somethin’ to keep your mouth busy?”

You feel a shiver run up your spine, head fuzzy at the lightheadedness and the thought of more hands on your already burning skin.

Jihoon pulls his cock out of your mouth as you sputter and drool. “Well?”

“Y-yes…” You croak, stray tears slipping down your cheeks as Jihoon tilts your head up to meet his stare. “What was that? Say it louder.”

“Yes, I---I want… I want m-more… I wanna choke o-on cock while the--the two of you f-fuck my c-cunt and my ass…” Tears spill down your cheek as the lust pools in you and Jihoon is quick to lean down, tongue already lapping up the salty tears. He smirks, “You’re so pretty when you cry, y’know?”

Wonwoo nods, licking his lips. “Especially when you’re begging about wanting more cocks in your pretty body.”

“Christ, the two of you are somethin’ else.” A voice chips in. You sniffle, turning your head slightly to see Soonyoung and Jun standing by the door.

You whimper their names as they step closer to the large bed, both also adorning the same knowing smirk that Wonwoo and Jihoon had when you’d seen them for the first time.

“I’ll admit, I’m not particularly good with sharing but my, are you a sight for sore eyes. Sandwiched between two incubus and still wanting more. Tsk, and I thought I was enough for you.” Soonyoung smirks, fingertips reaching out to cup your tear-stained cheeks.

Jun joins you on the bed, leaning up against the headboard. “I will say, you’re quite the risk-taker for a human. Wanting to get fucked by all four of us at once. Care to give us a reason why we even should?”

You let out a choked sob, lips chapped. “I--it’s ‘cause… I--” The words die on your tongue, slightly embarrassed.

Wonwoo takes the hint, chuckling under his breath. “Lemme guess, human males don’t do it for you, do they? They don’t know what you want. Or rather, when you tell them, it scares them off. You want to be treated like a plaything, holes stuffed full of cock ‘n cum until your brain is just a pile of mush, right? You like it when we use our abilities to make you feel good, our tentacles when they wrap around your pretty throat or when they fuck your ‘lil ass with our cocks shoved deep inside your cunt filling you to the brim with cum until it’s spilling out of you. You’re an ‘freak’ to normal standards. Tell me if I’ve hit the nail on the head, or if I should keep going.”

Your fingers still tucked between your legs press hard into your clit at his filthy words, shaky eyes unsure of who to look at first.

“Y--yes… You’re r-right...” You whisper quietly.

Soonyoung leans in, lips ghosting against yours.

“Then let’s indulge.”

You were used to Soonyoung and Jun both using their ‘abilities’ for added pleasure; almost addicted to the way they each knew exactly what you wanted and needed.

“Hey, fuck, it’s my turn!” Soonyoung grumbles, trying to bat away Wonwoo’s fingers that were knuckle deep in your pussy.

This was precisely why he never liked sharing.

You were on your hands and knees in the middle of the bed, lips wrapped around Jun’s cock and one hand wrapped around Jihoon’s as you worked them both. Wonwoo and Soonyoung were both behind you, arguing as Wonwoo thrusted his index and middle finger into your tight cunt.

“Cripes, Soonyoung, give us a break. And anyway, who says we both can’t finger her pussy at the same time.” Soonyoung’s annoyed expression turns into one of agreement; spitting on his fingers before he positions them next to Wonwoo’s. He sinks them in and you moan around Jun’s cock at how full you felt with four of their fingers fucking you open and getting you read to take their cocks.

You squeeze Jihoon a little harder when you feel a tentacle slithering across your torso, wrapping itself around your midsection to keep you upright as another two wrap themselves around your breasts. The sensations are almost too much for you to handle, but you try your best to stave off your orgasm for now.

“Hmm, we have her cunt filled up but what about her cute ‘lil ass, huh? Give her what she wants already.” Jun comments. You clench around Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s fingers, whimpering when you feel them both spit onto the puckered rim.

This time, a smaller tentacle slithers up your leg until you feel it prodding at your ass and Jun pulls you off of his cock, licking his lips at the precum and drool that drips onto the sheets under you. “Let’s hear it, princess. How much do you want it?”

Your grip momentarily loosens around Jihoon when Wonwoo and Soonyoung both curl their fingers right into your g-spot. “Pl-please... I--I want… I want you to---to fuh--fuck me… use, ah, my h-holes like I’m your--your toy…”

Jihoon laughs in amazement, “Shit, you’re fuckin’ cute. I could get used to you.”

Jun rubs the head of his cock against your lips, smearing the precum on them before you part your lips for him once more.

You start a rhythm again, letting Jun fuck your mouth and running your hand up as down Jihoon’s cock as you fuck yourself on Wonwoo and Soonyoung’s fingers. The tentacle slowly eases past the rim of muscle and you moan around Jun’s cock at the fullness you feel when it starts fucking into you as well.

“Hmm~ Look at our 'lil dumb cumslut. Filled up just like she wanted. Must be so happy, huh?” Soonyoung teases.

The urge to cum is strong and you feel your self control starting to slip quicker and quicker, unable to warn any of them when your body suddenly seizes up in between them all.

“Oh~ She’s cumming~” Wonwoo singsongs; wiggling his fingers inside of you as your walls flutter around his and Soonyoung’s fingers.

In an instant, they all pull away from you, watching as your body slumps to the sheets and your whole body trembles. Your fingertips go numb, head muddled at the intensity of your orgasm that you seem to momentarily black out.

“Fuck, she’s so pretty when she cums~”

Your eyes clamp shut with unshed tears and you can’t even tell who’s speaking anymore, but the tentacle wrapped around your waist slowly starts to lift you back into your previous position as you whine in sensitivity.

“Since it’s our first time with our new plaything, why don’t Jihoon and I have the honours?”

“Just say you wanna fuck her ass, Wonwoo, it’s fine.” Jun retorts.

Wonwoo shrugs in return, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Okay, I wanna fuck her ass and Jihoon wants to fuck her cunt. The two of you have already gotten to play with her so it’s our turn, isn't it?” He turns to Jihoon who nods, head tilted in mock thought. “Seems fair to me, ‘Woo.”

Soonyoung and Jun both narrow their eyes at the other males, lips pursed. “Fine.” They comment in unison.

“See, the two of you are capable of sharing.”

“Shut up, Wonwoo.”

You feel yourself being readjusted as Jihoon slides underneath you; hand wrapped around his cock as he positions it at your entrance.

You take a shaky breath, lowering yourself down onto him as you brace your shaky hands on his chest. “Oh, f-fuck…” It takes a moment for you to adjust to his size, clenching around him in a vice grip. “You’re s-so big…” Whimpering, the other three watch on as your, still, sensitive body sits pretty on Jihoon’s waist.

Their hands itch to get onto you; eyes fixated on the way you start to swivel your hips on Jihoon’s lap. “Shit, she’s so tight and wet around my cock…” Jihoon mumbles, hands on your waist to replace the tentacles that’d disappeared again.

“Fuck, okay, please tell me I can fuck you already too.” Wonwoo groans, hand wrapped around his own cock as he jerks himself off behind you.

“P---please, Wonwoo…”

He pushes you down until you’re chest to chest with Jihoon, exhaling harshly when he sees how stretched out your cunt was around the other male’s cock. “Fuck, baby, d’you even think you can take me?” He teases.

You let out a series of whines, shaking your hips slightly when Wonwoo rubs the head of his cock at the tight ring of muscle. “Yes, p-please, it’s--it’s, hah, not my first t-time, you don’t have--have to, ah, treat me l-like glass...” He lets out a small scoff, slowly easing his cock in.

“Okay, but you fuckin’ said it, princess. Once me and Jihoon start fuckin’ you ‘til you break, you can’t complain, okay?”

You nod your head shakily, groaning at the feeling of them both inside of you when Wonwoo finally bottoms out. “Fuckin’ do i-it then, make it s-so I only k-know your cocks, fuckin’ ruin m-me…” You slur out.

Soonyoung whistles in surprise as Jun’s eyes widen. “Shit, do you think we influenced her too much with our energy?” The latter asks, only slightly concerned. Soonyoung kneels to your side, tilting your head up until your lust filled eyes meet his.

“How’re you feeling, baby? Too much?” He asks, leaning down once to kiss you on the lips before he pulls away. “I--I feel g-good… really r-really good…” You swivel your hips, letting the two other males you wanted them to move. And they quickly take the hint as Wonwoo draws his hips back before he thrusts back into you as Jihoon cants his hips up into you at the same time, making you cry out at the way they filled you at the same time.

“Fuh--fuck, please…” You beg, unsure of what you even wanted now that you were close to satisfied. Soonyoung tilts your head back towards his cock, tapping your cheek with the head of it as he smears his precum against your skin.

“Open.”

Your lips part and you stick your tongue out, letting Soonyoung fuck your open mouth as you gag around him. You feel the tentacle come slithering back, wrapping itself around your midsection again just as Jun’s fingertips wrap around your wrist.

“Figured I should help you a little, hmm? Can’t have you falling over Jihoon now, can we?” Chuckling, he brings your hand towards his cock as you slowly wrap your hand around him. You let Soonyoung tangle a hand in your hair as you get used to the feeling of all four of them in and around you.

“She’s such a good ‘lil plaything. Can’t believe neither of you shared before.” Jihoon jokes; reaching up to pinch one of your nipples as you moan around Soonyoung.

“It’s ‘cause her fuckin’ cunt is too good to share. I was being selfish on purpose.” Soonyoung grits out. Laughing, Jun thrusts into your closed fist, “Hey, I was maybe willing to share. Neither of you bothered to ask.”

“Neither of us knew she was this fuckin’ good, genius.” Wonwoo retorts. He places his hands on your ass, blunt nails digging into your skin as he alternates his thrusts with Jihoon. “But hey, now that we do, I guess she’ll be seeing more of us, huh?”

You clench around him and Jihoon, whimpering around Soonyoung, and gripping Jun just a little tighter at the thought of seeing them again.

You could get used to that.

“Guess she likes the idea.” Jihoon mutters. “Although, it seems like Soonyoung’s still a little reluctant.”

A certain warmth pours over you, eyes fluttering shut at the sensations overwhelming your body. Your head feels fuzzy and unfocused; body feeling weightless as they continue to fuck into you. This was definitely more than your usual encounters with Soonyoung or Jun.

The head of Jihoon’s cock grazes against your g-spot and you whine around Soonyoung; thrusting your hips back as you chase the feeling. You do your best to keep your hand on Jun as well, tightening your fist around him as a high pitched whine spills from his lips.

You’re unsure of how much time has passed, only able to focus on the way they all fall into a rhythm that keeps you wanting more.

You needed to cum again.

Wonwoo and Jihoon can feel the way you tighten around them both, doubling their pace as they, too, chase their highs.

Jun’s fingertips circle your wrist, tugging you off of him as he goes to lean against the headboard again. “Hey, Soonyoung, let’s let them have their moment.” He grins, wrapping a hand around his cock as he watches. Soonyoung grunts but nods in agreement, slipping his cock from between your lips as you sputter and catch your breath.

“How’re you feeling, princess?” Soonyoung asks.

“H--huh?” You blink slowly, hazy eyes unable to focus on the male.

“My, my, I think we really did fuck her into our dumb ‘lil cockslut.” Wonwoo laughs, fucking into you faster now that Soonyoung and Jun had eased off. “Isn’t that right? Just a dumb set of holes for us to fuck and play with.”

“Y-yeah…” You whisper; head rolling as Soonyoung rests next to Jun against the headboard. Your body buzzes as you let Wonwoo and Jihoon fuck into you at a harsh pace, losing their rhythm as they feel their impending orgasms.

“I’m gonna cum, f-fuck, cum with us, princess. Let us feel how fuckin’ tight you get for both of us while we fill you up with cum.” Jihoon growls, fingertips reaching down to rub at your clit.

The action proves to be too much as you cum on his command, lips parting in a high pitched cry while you clamp down on both of them. Their hips stutter as they follow suit, cocks snug inside you as they ride out their highs with you. The tentacle wrapped around your waist disappears again in the midst of your orgasm and you feel your body go slack; arms and legs trembling as you do your best to not fall onto Jihoon.

“Hoo~ Isn’t that a sight, Jun? She’s so fucked out of her mind right now, she can barely even hold herself up.”

You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, riding out the remnants of your orgasm as Wonwoo starts to pull out of you.

A garbled moan floats past your lips at the feeling and you can’t help but thrust your hips back as you chase for him to fill you up again.

“Chist, she’s insatiable.” Wonwoo quips, eyes hyper-focused on the cum that drips down from your ass. He wraps a strong arm around your midsection after a moment, helping you up as Jihoon slides out from underneath you.

You sit with your legs folded outwards, cum pooling underneath you onto the sheets. It feels warm and sticky; pin pricks on your skin as you sit in the afterglow of your orgasm.

“Our turn~” Jun singsongs, gesturing to Soonyoung who gets up from his place, quicker than lightning.

They each kneel on either side of you, hands wrapped around their own cocks as they jerk themselves off above you. “Tongue out, princess.” Soonyoung groans.

You sit directly in between them as they cum, both of them covering your face and chest in rivulets of the warm, salty substance. It trickles down your hair, to your cheeks and mingles on the bed of your tongue as you grind down onto the sheets underneath you. Their moans draw you in and make you crave more, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as a wave of arousal floods your system again.

They all can tell as soon as it happens; eyes flashing a blood red as they, too, gain a new wave of energy from your actions.

Soonyoung and Jun scoot further away as their orgasms ebb off and all four of them pause to admire your body covered in cum.

You draw your tongue back in, swallowing the mix of Soonyoung and Jun’s cum and it’s the latter who leans back in; fingertips swiping at the cum that covers your eyelids. He brings the soaked digits to his lips, licking them clean as you gently open your eyes.

The first thing you see is all four of them in a half circle around you; the same dreamy smile plastered on all of their faces.

Your cheeks burn crimson as the shyness overtakes you with all of their eyes on you at once.

“Um…” You don’t even know what to say next, instead waiting on one of them to take the lead.

Jihoon’s the first one to scoot forward, gentle hands pushing you back down until your back rests against the soiled sheets. He parts your shaky legs, this time leaning over you as he grins.

“Well, we’ve got all night, princess. How about we indulge a little more?”

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bloomyn · 3 years

Text

phonetics ; kagami taiga

pairing: kagami taiga x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

synopsis: there’s something about three syllable sentences that worm their way into your heart.

featuring; minor unrequited love, grammar, other girls that aren’t you, bad characterization, a whole lot of being dumb, and a happy ending

-> i wrote this in two hours during my peer tutoring class please don’t murder me; i saw .5 seconds of him during the netflix trailer and busted the phattest emotional nut

This is how your story begins

You’re five and on the top of a slide, it’s sticky with sweat and electric on your skin but you can’t go down, not yet. There is no way you’re going to give the kid behind you the satisfaction, not until he says please.

“Say. it.” you demand, your hands gripping the side of the slide tighter. the space between his eyebrows scrunch together, like an inchworm, the type you learned about in class only a few days ago. “just say it. it’s not that hard. only one syllable.”

Your mother would scold you for that sass, but she’s too far away to hear and quite frankly too far to see your current predicament.

“No. see, that’s one syllable.”

And yes you know that violence is never the way, (that’s also what you learned about at your school, the same day as the inchworms), and that maybe there is a verbal way to resolve this agreement, but the thing is, your five year old brain is tired of using words. and so this is the part where you resort to fists, tiny fingers that gripped the side of the slide ball up slowly and then.

The sky is down. down? and no your hands aren’t on the slide they’re trying to brace your fall from down the slide and all you can see is a muddled red face before you hit the ground crying.

→

Here’s the thing about parks, technically, technically, their public property. So that means, technically, technically, just about anyone can show up and play. It’s terrible. It’s especially terrible when the only person on the playground to play with is also the one that pushed down the slide (quite aggressively! you might add) only a week ago. If there was ever any violent tendencies that lay dormant in those tiny hands of yours they might as well have been awakened.

But instead of fighting, or attempting to fight, someone who looks like they could be the kids mother ushers said kid in your direction.

and instead of a “No.” being spit in your direction you get an,

“I’m sorry. Three syllables, see. I said it.”

and a hesitant hug, awkward and gangly.

And so it begins.

→

“If you’re going to be stupid like this I’m going to stop showing up.” you sigh, taking a seat on the bench, cringing at the scent of sweat and rubber. Beside you, a messy bundle of red hair lays splayed on the hard metal, a rough hand wiping the sweat out of his face. “Hello, is Kagami home? Or do I really have to stop showing up till you remember you need me. ”

A groan leaves his chapped lips and an arm extends across your lap. “ Did you bring it at least?”

You surrender the plastic bag, watching the steam rising from his body melt the ice. It’s disgustingly sensual and for a split second you can almost imagine what the girls interested in him think. Unfortunately they’ve never seen him like you have, bloody noses and sweat, black stains from the court staining his dirty clothes, and just going through middle school in general. It sends shivers up your arms. Gross. He pushes himself backwards, lifting his head up onto the hem of your skirt.

“You’re just so sweaty, all the time.” you sigh, wiping a handkerchief across his forehead.

The sight of the two of you is one to behold.

It’s always been to Kagami at least, which is a surprise considering that the only things he really cares to look at anymore is game highlights and illicit magazines that he really only gets away with buying because of his height. To be fair it’s not like he really reads the magazines anyway, not without getting distracted, not without the guilt that comes with thinking of you, during, ah, certain periods of time. He’s gross, he knows, and here you are, walking a mile in the summer heat because his ankle was too dead to get ice and there’s no one to watch #2 if he leaves. (fucking Kuroko he swears)

He can see the soft outline of your jaw like this, laying down. He can see the way your tongue casually glosses over your lips and and the way it seems like you're blinking in slow motion, he can see your lashes gently brush your face when you blink. It’s a goddamn sickness.

Now usually, when this happens, when this wave of amorous nausea fills his head he does what he’s best at, absolutely destroying the court. But in the few steam filled moments between his attempt to get up and realizing he has to get up or he might vomit hearts all over the floor, you’ve already pressed the palm of your hand into his shoulder.

“Don’t think you can get up, stupid. Your ankle looks like a purple yam for goodness sakes. Gross. ”

He’ll hold onto the spare bit of affection in your words till you give him more, which you will, because you’re like this. Stubborn and loving, and always seemingly annoyed with him. He won’t mind, he never does.

→

It’s not until the end of third year that he realizes he does, he does mind. He minds all the damn time now.

“Don’t complain now that I’m not giving you all my attention,” you had scolded, “You’re the one with a girlfriend Ka-chan.”

“You don’t even bring me ice anymore!”

A shitty retort indeed but, true nonetheless.

“Kagami,” you had warned, “It might not be a great idea for me to bring you stuff anymore. Think about your girlfriend! How is she going to feel, another woman bringing her boyfriend what he needs.”

There was no response back this time. In his defense, Lisa hated the smell of basketball, “it sticks to you!”

Which he thought she might’ve considered before confessing but, semantics. There was nothing wrong with Lisa, she might’ve been everything he looked for in a woman. Hot, decently smart, very, very good looking on his arm, and she loved the attention too. Except her lips were too sticky, and she hated the smell of the gym, and he could go on and on making up petty excuses because she wasn’t the one who demanded that he say “please” on the playground.

(He’s just picky!) His brain argues!

It takes three more girls until he realizes they’re not you.

→

There is a brief moment in time where you fall for Kagami Taiga. There is a moment so small it slivers past you in the form of iced plastic bags and steaming windows in the gym. But the moment isn’t so small that no one around you notices. It isn’t so small when your best friend goes through three different girlfriends in a moment that doesn’t even make it through a set of nails. Not one nail chips.

It’s an odd moment. Only, at the end of this moment, there is no return to normalcy, there is no getting over it, there is another one waiting for you to leave those chipped nails and iced plastic bags behind.

It starts with praise and glimmer pop of jealousy.

→

“Absolutely not.”

“ You can’t argue an opinion you can’t even have, Taiga.” It comes out nastier than you want and you kick yourself for it. He catches it, the grimace waiting on your face and the quiver in your eye. The two of you are waning, stuck to your respective places in his living room, movie paused. There is a chance you will cry, but a more realistic chance that this will end in useless fight, that the aching silence between the two of you will become your shield against a barrage of his angry glares.

This might be the only chance you ever feel what it’s like when he’s in the zone, except you're not a five man team (with subs) , you’re a teenage girl with goddamn feelings. It’s the playground all over again, but this time you won’t be pushed.

“He’s a fucking player.” his voice raises at the end and the tense in your calf sharpens. “He’s a disgusting shitty haired player, how are you being so stupid right now?”

By the time he’s done he’s yelling. The two of you have argued sure, but never... not like this.

“I’m allowed to be dumb sometimes!” you breathe, “ Look at you Taiga, how you are not the same as him? It takes you weeks, days, to get a new girl. How in the world are you even qualified to be talking to me about this.”

It takes half a second for his eyes to narrow, sharper than his looks and for a moment you stagger back. It takes even less time for you to grab your bag and leave.

You’re not angry, not for the right reason. This boyfriend is going to end in heartbreak, it’s a given, even Kagami knows this. But you can’t help yourself, this might only be a blip in time, it won’t matter in a year right? It won’t matter when Kagami finds himself wrapped around another girl, too busy to even remember what day of the week it is.

And it kills you.

You’re killing him.

There is never a moment where everything is clear, unless he’s playing one on one, but this isn’t him versus you. This is him versus himself, a freaky nightmare he only dreamt about in middle school; and you’re not someone he wins by dunking on. It’s the type of win where he has to lose a little bit of something too. The type of win that he’s been avoiding.

→

Your house has been the same for years, flower boxes on the front porch, a few twigs on the lawn, less than a thousand steps from his own place, somewhere he could sleep walk to. It’s never bothered you, he was your best friend, how could you complain about living so close?

Well, you’re complaining now.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes are drilling into the ground, fingers fidgeting like a boy, like a child who’s never had to say sorry before. Even so, you love him, so you relent, allowing yourself to lean on the doorway, absolutely oozing casually (ty?) (ness?) You can’t think.

“Three syllables. Thanks.”

The visible sigh of relief warms your achy breaky heart and absolutely tears into your soul. The grip on your heart he holds falls loose, unveiling the mismatched pieces that you’ve been forcing together for years. And for a moment you feel weak to it.

“ You should,” he starts, gnawing on his bottom lips this time, “be with who you want. So, I’m sorry.”

It’s exasperating, but even if it is, Kagami Taiga is the most stubborn man you know so these words no doubt are being pulled out like teeth and you love him all the same.

→

To Kagami’s surprise (and disappointment), a year later you are still quite in love with the man you call your boyfriend. But to his own sick delight, the two of you are fighting (again).

“So you’re here.”

You nod, pushing the door to his bedroom open and slipping yourself under his covers. If he was anyone but himself he might’ve looked down, seen what was going on and promptly collapsed onto his knees. But, willpower is a strong suite of his (thank god), so he takes a seat on the foot of the bed.

“ Kagami, you can say it.” you mumble from beneath his covers. At your words his eyebrows scrunch and his knuckles tighten around the blanket. You’re not provoking him, just asking for the honesty he carries on his shoulders.

“Ah, well.”

You shift the blanket off, propping yourself against the headboard. It’s only then that he can see the old tear tracks down your face.

“ I’m glad you’re here ya know. With me. Here.”

The last part is a whisper, one you catch.

One you can only sigh with.

“ You can’t say that Kagami.”

“It’s true.”

It feels like a lifetime has passed by the time you gather the courage to look up at him, up at those deep red eyes that give away every emotion that passes through him. You don’t think can hurt you, not anymore than he has. Not with the hands that have held you up and stuck bandages on your knees and not with the heart that cared for you so deeply. He wouldn’t dare.

But the sun is setting between the two of you, and the radiant glow only illuminates your features. You have to remember that he is only man, only human, and humans are easily seduced into stupid things by the sun.

“ I love you.”

The delicate words aren’t voluntary, nor are they forced. It’s the space inbetween that pushes someone in the right direction, whether they know it or not.

“ Three syllables Taiga.”

He watches you untangle yourself from the bed and take your place beside him. Carefully, he drops his hand in your lap, palms up and clammy. Slowly, you place your hand in his, taking up the space between his fingers.

“Four syllables. That’s what you get.” you shake, squeezing his fingers.

It takes him about two seconds to understand what you mean.

And he does.

→

#knb x reader #kagami x reader #kagami taiga x reader #kagami taiga scenario #kagami scenario #taiga x reader #did u miss me #knb scenarios #knb fic #knb fluff

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hongnanglen-arina · 4 years

Text

Movie night? | Jeon Wonwoo

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: abandoned movies, horny!Wonu, dirty talk, fingering

Words: 1390

A/N: Hi! Wonu’s recent ab flashes were too much for me to handle.. so this shortish one happened... and as always, please remember that English isn't my first language so excuse my grammar ♡

---

You should have known better when you invited your boyfriend over for a movie night that you wouldn’t finish all the movies you chose for today. To be honest, you weren’t exactly disappointed because the two of you have always been very needy for each other but you thought you would at least make it to the end of the second one. But reality taught you better - again.

During the ending credits of the first movie, Wonwoo put his bag of chips to the side and turned to you with a smirk on his lips and you immediately knew what he was thinking. “Hey, be proud of me that I didn’t rip your clothes off when that guy made out with the main actress because… I was this close…” His sharp eyes bore into your soul as he inched closer. You two were leaning against the couch with your backs, sitting in the middle of a pile of fuzzy blankets on the floor, with lots of snacks and some drinks between you two and the huge tv you got yourself as your own christmas present 2 years ago. Each of you had finished their first can of beer, not enough alcohol in the system to call yourselves tipsy - instead you were hungry. For each other.

“Did you see how he threw her on the bed? Hella wild, right?” Wonwoo breathed against your ear, making you shiver. His voice was naturally deep but like this and with you, it was so much deeper that you were sure you could die of a heatstroke just because of that. Your cheeks burned and he merely did anything yet. “Wonwoo… d-do something or I will start the next movie…..” You were surprised of yourself. Normally you wouldn’t dare to say that since you wanted to feel him closer already. He always knew you better than anyone else and whenever he was in the mood for teasing, he would stop everything and act as if nothing happened. It would frustrate you so much that you often end up on his lap, trying to get what you wanted - what you needed. Wonwoo had so much more self composure than you. He would mock you for being so needy. For grinding against his things, for begging for more. He just had so much power over you. Not only this but you would always lose against him. No matter the occasion. Book or movie quotes. If the food you couldn’t finish would fit in the containers or not. Sprints. Games. This boy was unbelievable in those things. As well as in your ‘sexy time’.

His hand found your bare thigh, kneading your hot skin while his lips left open mouthed kisses on your exposed neck. You lifted your arm and slid your hand underneath his shirt, letting your nails skim over his chest and abs which caused him to hum against your skin. He took the collar of your shirt between his teeth and tugged at it so that it slipped down your shoulder and arm. The fact that you loved oversized clothes made it easy for him to get what he wanted. There were many shirts of your boyfriend at your place. Mostly because you loved his scent but also because they were too big for your form which you loved. So it was a double win. You knew that he loved to see you in his clothes. He found it endearing and often made sure to tell you that.

“Ah!” You gasped when you felt his teeth carefully bite down the exposed mound of your breast, licking over the little mark. “Mh so soft…” You were about to say something when you felt a firm grip on your wrist, removing your hand from his chest and placed it on his crotch. “Touch me.” And again, his cat like eyes bore into yours and you absentmindedly gulped, doing what you were told. You moved your hand over his almost fully erect length, even feeling the veins through the thin fabrics of his boxers. Wonwoo made a pleased noise and pulled you in for a deep kiss, pushing you back and down on your back in the process.

Even though the warmth of the blankets was gone, you still felt hot. Especially when his fingers were back on your hip, drawing circles with his thumb before letting his hand disappear between your thighs. You let out a yelp when his cold and slender fingers slid underneath your panties but he swallowed your noises with his kiss, letting his tongue explore your mouth. “Interesting.” You felt him grin against your lips as he started to spread your arousal where he needed it to be. “What is my girl so wet for, mh?” You bit your bottom lip, stroking his length again, in hopes you didn’t need to answer his question but without success. “Tell me or I will stop” He knew how shy you were with dirty talk. He was a master in it but you? You were always a blushing mess. “I… for you, Wonwoo…” His middle finger rubbed over you clit and your back arched at the friction, pushing your chest against his with a whine. “I haven’t done anything… tell me what you were imagining.” You felt a wet patch on his boxers. He really enjoyed your little dialogue. You moved your fingers so your nail could scratch slightly over the wet patch and his sensitive tip and it made him groan instantly. “… I imagined how you… would do the same things to me… like in the movie.. I guess…”

Without a warning, he pushed two of his fingers in you and you couldn’t hold back your high pitched moan. “Means… you want it rough today?” “M-maybe..” A third finger joined but he wouldn’t move them, instead they stood still, your walls pulsating around them. He took your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at it before releasing it. You just realized that you had closed your eyes and you couldn’t remember when but when you opened them again, you were met with your handsome boyfriend smirking down at you. “As you wish, baby.”

With that said, he shook his hand with such a force that it felt as if a vibrating toy was deep in your core. Squirming under his treatment, he watched your every move, every emotion on your face, adoring the sweet noises you let free and into the room. Just for him. Without knowing you squeezed his hand between your legs, it slowly became too much. Wonwoo knew exactly what he was doing and how he could bring you to your climax. You had forgotten about his previous words and your hand on his cock. Secretly you were praying he would let it slide and finish you although you disobeyed his order. Your hands were grabbing at the blankets beside you, that familiar knot steadily forming inside of you. “Nngh…. W-wonwoo…. ahh…” His fingers were still shaking in your core, giving you just the right amount of friction that you needed. The grip on the soft fabrics got tighter, so did your moans and whimpers. You were so close that everything spun in your head. You could smell beer, the different snacks beside you two and your arousal, mixed with his favorite cologne. Turning your head to the side and getting ready for your high, you felt him bite down your neck and it was the last thing you needed. With a loud cry of his name, you came around his fingers, messily moving your hips to feel more or to feel less. Your mind couldn’t decide. His fingers slid in and out of your clenching walls, not shaking anymore which you were thankful for because you slowly became sensitive to his penetration.

Your boyfriend sensed it and slowed down until he pulled his fingers out to lick them clean, slurping pleasantly. “Fuck, I love your taste.”

With flushed cheeks and a thin layer of sweat covering your body, you turned to face him, sheepishly watching him clean his fingers from your juice. “Thank you, Wonwoo.”

Suddenly the room turned dark as the tv screen became black for not using it for a while. “Don’t think I’m done with you”, you heard him say in a low tone.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen ff #Seventeen #kpop fanfic #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #wonu smut #kpop scenarios #carat #17 #seventeen fanart #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic

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whumpmatsus · 3 years

Note

Can we see Karamatsu and Ichimatsu fight over some chocolate milk. Maybe with little injuries.

at first I was like "oh that's a little silly"

but then I was like... well, fuck, this is EXACTLY the kind of thing these dumdums would do 🤣

All things considered, it’s not too often that the Matsuno brothers fight over food when there’s plenty to go around. As long as they all get a fair share, even if it’s a special treat, that’s usually good enough for them.

Notable exceptions include four-packs of anything, given how impossible they are to split evenly, and… chocolate milk, though obviously not for the same reason.

Oh, sure, the local supermarket where Mom shops frequently carries six-packs of single-serve flavored milk, like the kind of packaging one would get with juice boxes to put in kids’ lunches. They almost always have strawberry, banana, coffee, orange… but for whatever reason, a dumbass reason as far as the brothers are concerned, that supermarket doesn’t usually carry chocolate milk.

So, of course, when Mom brings several cases of chocolate milk home, it means war.

There are twenty-four little boxes of it in total, which means they each get four. It’s easy. Or, it should be. As horrible as they all are, when it comes to sharing a treat like this, they want to stick to splitting it up just right so every brother gets as much as he’s supposed to.

The truth is that with something like this, all of them want to savor it. They want to make it last. After all, when it’s gone, it’s gone, and who knows when they might get more?

Unfortunately, given that there’s now only one box left, someone must not have drunk one of theirs. The problem is that both Karamatsu and Ichimatsu are pretty sure the only remaining one is theirs. Considering what a rarity it is, they’re prepared to fight tooth and nail for it.

Which, coincidentally, is exactly what they’re doing right now.

“Villain!” Karamatsu hisses as he brandishes a soup ladle like one might a sword. “I think I would remember if I had taken my last one!”

Ichimatsu mirrors the gesture, but his weapon of choice is a metal spatula. “And I wouldn’t?! Give it up, Shittymatsu! Just because your memory is as sucky as your face, that doesn’t mean you get to steal my last drink!”

The clang of metal hitting metal echoes through the kitchen. “It is not yours! I deliberately saved my last one for today… I was going to drink it right before I went to pachinko so I’d hit it big!!”

“Oh, please! How would that make you hit it big?!”

“It would energize me!! Keep your foul, thieving hands away from my chocolate milk!”

“It’s not yours!” This angry assertion is punctuated with Ichimatsu winding back before swinging the spatula at his older brother’s head. It hits its mark with a slapping sound that would be sickening to anyone outside the family who heard it.

As far as the other Matsunos are concerned, this is just another day in the household. Or another day with the sextuplets, at any rate.

Most of the time Karamatsu is horrified by the thought of hurting any of his brothers. He’s always reluctant to do it, even when they’re hurting him. Today, however, he strikes back with equal fervor to Ichimatsu’s blow. Maybe it’s something about the allure of chocolate milk, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s now got a cut on his temple, dripping blood down the side of his face.

The ladle is just as true as the spatula was, smacking against Ichimatsu’s cheek in a way that’s certain to leave a bruise. As soon as it connects, though, a more pressing issue presents itself: Ichimatsu screams, dropping his ‘weapon’ in favor of clutching his cheek.

“FUCK! Oh, my God, my teeth!”

It appears the spell is broken, at least for Karamatsu. He tosses the ladle to the floor and rushes to his brother’s side. Ichimatsu is in a heap on the floor by the time Karamatsu kneels next to him, feeling guilty despite his own injury from Ichimatsu drawing first blood. “Ichimatsu! A-ah, I’m so sorry… let me see…”

Ichimatsu whimpers pitifully and moves his hand away from his jaw so his brother can take a look. “I think I’m bleeding…” He glances up with a mirthless snort. “S-so are you, though.”

“Yes, well… we’ll deal with that later.” He sighs and grabs a sheet of paper towel, carefully pressing it against where the blood in Ichimatsu’s mouth seems to be coming from. “Here, hold that for a minute and I’ll get a real towel so this doesn’t stick to your teeth.”

He’s back in only a few seconds, quickly replacing the paper towel with a damp, cold cloth. Hopefully, that should soak up the blood as well as soothe the pain. “I’m so sorry, again… I got a bit carried away. But that’s no excuse ― a good man shouldn’t be causing his little brother pain over something as trivial as a drink. Please forgive me… how bad is it? Do I need to drive you to the hospital?”

Ichimatsu shakes his head and eagerly holds the cloth against his mouth. “Ow… no… don’t think anything’s chipped or broken… just hurts.” He looks up again, and a wave of self-consciousness flashes over his face. “… ‘m sorry, too. I threw the first punch. You should fix your face.”

Karamatsu almost chokes himself in an effort not to start laughing. Then he reaches up to touch the cut and remembers that, well… he should fix his face. He’s bleeding, too. “Ah… right, yes. Here, let me… help you to the couch first, so you can relax. I’ll fix this and then come check on you.”

He helps his younger brother up to his feet so they can head into the other room. Surprisingly, Ichimatsu doesn’t pull away. He also doesn’t lean much closer; he just lets Karamatsu do whatever without any complaints. “Ichimatsu… you take the last chocolate milk. It might be yours anyway, so… I-I don’t want to fight over it.”

“N… nah, I, um, I think it’s probably yours,” Ichimatsu huffs. “Maybe I’m remembering that I drank my last one yesterday. After I got home from feeding the cats.”

Karamatsu chuckles softly as he deposits Ichimatsu on the couch. “You can have it, though. Please. I really want you to take it. As an apology, because I… I do believe I hit you a fair bit harder than you hit me. So I want to make it up to you.”

Ichimatsu settles down on the couch, tentatively removing the cloth to check how much he’s bleeding. Thankfully it looks like it’s starting to slow down. “Are… you sure?”

“Yes, of course! Anything for my darling fourth brother.” Karamatsu beams, giving a gentle pat to Ichimatsu’s leg. “It’s not worth hurting each other over, and I’m sorry I’ve done so. Let me go clean my cut… then I’ll get some painkillers into both of us. And I’ll bring you that milk ― it should cheer you up!”

“Heh. Okay.” Ichimatsu doubts there’s anything in the world that could truly do that job, but it’s funny to watch Karamatsu try. And maybe he’s just a tiny bit grateful. “Um. Thanks.”

The second eldest offers another smile and a thumbs up before he heads to the bathroom. All things considered, the wound Ichimatsu gave him isn’t too terribly bad. Though it does sting to wash off with soap, it’s not bleeding heavily, so after he gets it cleaned and puts a bandage on it, it feels better.

He’s out of the bathroom in only about five minutes, heading to the kitchen to grab the last chocolate milk. Maybe if Ichimatsu is feeling up to it, they can even share it.

When he walks into the room, Totty is there now, closing the fridge. “Hey, Karamatsu-nii-san! I heard a bunch of noise out here a minute ago… do you know what happened?”

Before Karamatsu can ease his youngest brother’s worries, his eyes are drawn to the box in Totty’s hand as he lifts it to take a drink.

It’s the last box of chocolate milk.

Son of a bitch.

#Osomatsu san #whump #angst #Iromatsu #Karamatsu #Ichimatsu #fighting #injury #blood #THEY'RE SO DUMB BOYS PLEASE DON'T FIGHT OVER GODDAMN CHOCOLATE ASS MILK IT AIN'T WORTH IT #Totty's gonna get his ass WHUPPED XD

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thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

Note

The gang on their wedding days

[Been meaning to post this one for a while — since I’m applying to get married today, now seems like the time.]

Jake steps into the room like a child wandering into his parents’ dinner party. His bow tie is askew, seams of his jacket misaligned for all that it’s a custom-tailored tuxedo. If the buttons of his shirt aren’t one hole off from their intended placement, they still manage to convey that impression from across the room.

Rachel feels a rush of affection for him, her first best friend. The boy who’d run and fought and splashed through mud with her, back before adults started telling her to be careful of her dress and him to be careful of her. Only he could show up to his own wedding looking like he’s ready to be expelled at any moment. Only Jake.

And yes, she gets mushy at weddings. Sue her.

Tom steps up next to Jake, far more elegant in an off-the-rack suit. Some people actually got the fashionable genes in this family.

Rachel surges across the room. Tom gets a quick hug, and then she turns all her attention on Jake.

“You only have to look nice for the next three hours,” she tells him briskly.

“Three. Hours,” Jake repeats.

With expert motions she realigns his… everything, until at the very least the clothes are sitting the way the tailor intended. She tries to finger-comb his hair, thankful for the heels that put her at an inch above his height, but it’s obvious that he has also been running his hands through it and the style is hopelessly deformed.

“You can survive anything for three hours,” Rachel says as she does all this. “I’ve seen you do it.”

“But if I mess it up—”

“Then stop, go back, and do whatever it is over. We’re not exactly on a time pressure, here. Nobody’s gonna die if you trip at the altar or forget your lines.”

“Okay.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, deforming his jacket again. “Okay.”

She can see him starting to relax as he glances around, shoulders coming down. Cassie’s place isn’t quite like they remember — it’s been repaired since the war, the Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic expanded to nearly five times its original size — but it still feels as close to home as any place does.

“Have a glass of water,” Rachel says.

“But what if I have to pee during the ceremony?”

She rolls her eyes. “Babysit him,” she mouths at Tom.

Tom gives her a gesture in response that approximates What do you think I’ve BEEN doing? Whether he means the last four hours or the last twenty-six years is, really, a moot point.

Rachel leaves him to it, and charges off to go check on the others.

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

Marco leans against a tent pole, trying to roll one of the rings across his fingers the way Vegas poker players do with chips. So far it’s not going well.

“Canapé,” Ax is saying carefully. He attempts to lean next to Marco, nearly going all the way over. “Can-nap-peee?”

“Uh, no.” Marco catches the ring as it makes its third or fourth bid for freedom, stuffing it back into his pocket. “That…” He tilts his champagne flute to point. “…is a canopy. Or a chuppah, I guess. Canopee. Canapay is the little pastry thing you’ve already filched in bulk, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Ah,” Ax says. And then, “This temperature and rate of precipitation is within optimal survival parameters for humans, is it not?”

“Nuh-uh, Ax-Man, I will not be pulled in by your smooth small-talk skills.”

“Did you not wish to make conversation?” Ax frowns. And then he stuffs another canapé in his mouth. “This is making conversation,” he adds through the mouthful.

Marco squints. “Is it, though?”

“It is indeed. Did you know that the rotating-wheel can opener was patented in 1870?”

Marco’s response to that one gets cut off when Rachel comes charging across the open tent space like a small freight train. Tobias is balanced on her shoulder, flaring slightly as she runs. She yanks the champagne flute out of his hand. Marco makes a squeak of protest, but Rachel just sets it firmly on a bussing tray and turns back to glare at him.

“What did we agree?” she asks sternly.

Marco rolls his eyes. “That I’d stay sober-ish for the toast, and not do anything too embarrassing.”

“You’re the best man. You have one job, Marco.”

“Excuse you, the best man’s one job was that banger of a bachelor-slash-ette party we did Wednesday night. Did you like the part where we all dived out of a helicopter and flew clear through the lower atmosphere to that rooftop bar? Because—”

“So you got the drinking out of your system. You promised.”

“Sober-ish, come on, it’s just one wine-spritzer-thing!”

Rachel turns away from him, looking Ax over. “You realize you’re going to have to demorph and remorph at some point before the ceremony, right?” she asks. “And that when you do, someone’s going to have to go through the whole kit and caboodle of getting you into that tux all over again?”

“Yes,” Ax says. “Yes, I do.”

She stares at him. He stares back, looking as innocent as it is possible to look while also chewing three jalapeño pastries at the same time.

«You should probably just listen to her,» Tobias suggests. «By the way, where’s your date? Not that I quake in fear for the wedding cake or anything, but, uh…»

“Menderash has been instructed not to eat anything on a human plate without seeking my opinion first,” Ax says, somewhat stiffly.

“Yeah,” Marco says. “So far he’s only eaten two earthworms, a candle, some decorative sand, and part of Collette’s bouquet. You two have nothing to worry about.”

“Part of Collette’s bouquet?” Rachel demands. “We can’t send a bridesmaid up the aisle without—”

“Already replaced it, I am on top of this.” Marco flips his hair back from his face. “I am a flower master.”

«So where is Menderash now?» Tobias asks.

“Helping Cassie’s mom,” Marco explains.

«And Cassie’s mom is…?»

“Delivering a baby cow.”

Rachel makes a noise like she’s choking on air. “Doesn’t Michelle have vet techs for that kind of thing? She’s supposed to be getting ready, not, not…”

“It’s cool,” Marco says. “She’s got her makeup on, her hair is done perfectly, she’s got an apron-thing to keep her dress nice and gloves over her nails, it was a breech birth so they needed a real doctor and Walter was busy supervising the caterers, she’s got Menderash and Steve helping her out—”

“She kidnapped Jake’s dad?” Rachel demands overtop the continuing babble.

“He said he had never delivered an offspring outside of his own species before, and expressed deep curiosity on the subject,” Ax offers. “Menderash is a certified medic with andalite training, so they should be well-equipped to assist.”

Marco makes jazz hands in the air. “It’s a free pre-dinner show! Cow birth. Better than icebreakers.”

There’s a very long pause. Rather than dignify that with a response, Rachel turns and stalks away.

Marco watches her go, halfway awed at her ability to navigate an open yard so well while not only wearing six-inch heels and a multi-layer floor-length dress, but also balancing an enormous updo on top of her head and a red-tailed hawk on her left shoulder.

“Is it just me, or did Jake and Cassie make a monster when they asked her to be maid of honor?” Marco says.

«You wanna take over her responsibilities, then?»

Of course Tobias heard that. Stupid hawk hearing.

“No thank you!” Marco yells after them.

Cassie, meanwhile, is currently picking her way across the open space under the tent, bunches of dress hiked up to above her knees. This last is, of course, the source of Rachel’s consternation.

“Here.” Rachel attempts to pull the wads of skirt out of Cassie’s hands and drop them back to the ground. “You’re going to wrinkle it.”

Cassie stubbornly refuses to let go. “You told me not to let it drag on the ground. If I let it down, it’ll drag.”

“Cassie, Cassie. That is a hand-tailored Christian Dior gown that I commissioned to be custom-fitted to your measurements. There is no way that it is too long if you let it…”

Cassie drops the bunches of tulle. The end of the skirt falls all the way down, where the bottom two inches rest, unmistakably, on the muddy ground.

Rachel somehow manages to wince with her entire body while also not moving at all.

«It’s a look,» Tobias suggests, by way of consolation. «Kind of.»

“How…?” Rachel peers closer at Cassie. “Wait, where are your shoes?”

Cassie shrugs, embarrassed. “Uh, inside somewhere. I was having trouble balancing in them.”

“Well that’s why!” Rachel’s emphatic gesture almost dislodges Tobias. With years’ experience, he dodges her waving arm and retains his perch. “The dress was tailored to fit you with shoes on.”

“They were getting stuck in the grass—”

“They’re kitten heels!”

“Yeah, and they’re still heels.” Cassie looks stuck somewhere between amusement and embarrassment. “I don’t really do heels. Sorry.”

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says, as if to thin air.

«Nuh-uh, leave me out, I want no part in—»

“Remember me telling Cassie that we should really try the whole outfit on before the wedding?”

«Uh. Yes?»

“Do you also remember Cassie agreeing to it, and then the day of, haring off to go try and save a bunch of vultures instead? Remember how we tried to reschedule, and there was that ALF mission on the same day so she never showed? Remember that?”

Cassie clears her throat loudly. “I think it’s a very nice dress. It’s fluffy and also comfortable, and look!” She tucks her hands away. “It has pockets.”

«Vultures are actually fundamental for waste disposal in ecosystems all over the world, and the poisons used on livestock—»

“Do you think you could at least wear the shoes long enough to go up the aisle?” Rachel asks. “And maybe even for a few photos as well?”

“Uh. I’ll try.” Cassie hikes her skirt back up (Rachel full-body winces again) and starts picking her way across the lawn back toward the house.

“There’s no way I’m going to be able to un-wrinkle it in time,” Rachel mutters.

«Yep. So you’re just going to have to live with it.»

“I hate living with it.”

«Wanna go check on whatever monstrosity of a replacement bouquet Marco probably inflicted on Collette?»

“Fine, fine.”

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

Cassie walks up the aisle in a custom-tailored gown, an edelweiss and valerian flower crown, and slightly muddy Timberland work boots. The sole on the boots is apparently tall enough that the skirt does, not, in fact, drag on the ground or get tangled in her feet.

«Somewhere out there,» Tobias comments, «Christian Dior is crying into an overpriced silk handkerchief and doesn’t even know why.»

Marco has never more deeply felt the utter unfairness of Tobias being able to use thought-speak while human, because they’re currently standing at the front of the aisle and he can’t even respond.

But Rachel should still count this one as a win. The gown looks stunning on Cassie, lacy and princess-ruffled while also having the kind of practical cut that allows her freedom of movement. And, Marco notes with a smirk, freedom to wear her morphing leotard underneath; the purple spandex is just visible peeking out from underneath the white silk neckline. He’s got morphing clothes under his own tux — never leaves home without ‘em — so really, he can’t judge.

Plus, Michelle’s got her dress and just her dress on by now, and her locs are still tucked into their silver-beaded updo. Really, the cow birth was just a momentary inconvenience.

“Hi,” Jake whispers, when Cassie reaches him.

She grabs his hand. Then she stuffs her bouquet into one of his jacket pockets, and grabs his other hand. “Hi,” she whispers back.

“This is pretty exciting, huh?”

“Yep.”

Ax clears his throat delicately, and they stop talking.

“There is an Earth tradition,” Ax says to the entire assembly, “that the captain of any ship may perform a wedding ceremony at will.”

In the front row of seats, Michelle laces her fingers through Walter’s.

“Although there is no legal precedent for this custom,” Ax continues, “it is nevertheless possible to become ordained as a wedding officiant if one just completes the proper applications.”

One of Jake’s great-aunts mutters something loudly about the lack of rabbi. Sarah leans over and kicks her in the ankle. Rachel beams her approval.

“Therefore, I am here to make official through human custom that which has already been forged through affection and respect.” Ax looks from Jake to Cassie and back. “The bond between warriors who have fought and faced death together can be neither lessened nor improved upon by mere ceremony. The honor shared between two such beings who have chosen to risk loving each other in spite of knowing the reality of loss is one that we recognize today. We can recognize it, but not sanctify it beyond the sanctity of what these two humans have already shared.”

Rachel lets out an audible sniffle. Marco does his best not to smirk at her. It’s not that sappy a speech.

“I have been assured that the bond between two humans who like each other far exceeds the bond between those who merely enjoy each other’s company,” Ax says.

And now Marco has to fight the urge to bang his head against the nearest support pole.

“I have witnessed this myself.” Ax stares around the room. “I have witnessed compromise and forgiveness, compassion and challenge between these two. I therefore believe it is correct and proper that this bond be formally recognized by the State of California. Is there anything you would wish to add?” he says to Jake and Cassie.

Cassie leans up on tip-toe. Jake bends to meet her.

She whispers her vows into his ear, not bothering to share with the rest of the gathering. After a moment, tears on his face, he leans in and whispers back.

Recognizing his cue, Marco grabs the rings and passes them over. They’re boring-looking, in his opinion, plain silicon bands without anything shiny. But they’re also easy to morph, easy to shovel manure while wearing, easy to wear without catching on anything. Very Cassie. Very Jake.

Speaking of which, the Timberlands prove to be a good call. When the time comes, Cassie stomps the shit out of that ceremonial glass.

**********

In a slight break with tradition, Rachel and Tobias are actually the first ones to go back down the aisle. Then Marco wheels Collette out, followed by Tom and Melissa, then Jake and Cassie go. That way, Rachel’s got time to sprint back over to the main tent and check on the banquet.

Most of the tables are arranged correctly, the centerpieces in place and the cards arrayed. Rachel does a mad sprint of the room, straightening decorations and confirming with the caterers that they got all the instructions about who needs what in their diet. Between the number of kosher eaters on Jake’s side and the number of vegetarians on Cassie’s, Rachel made the call to go all the way to a fully vegan buffet. That’s probably going to get some of the relatives complaining about kids these days and rabbit food, but there’s no pleasing everyone.

Rachel deftly switches a few of the placecards, thereby putting Jordan on point to deal with their great-aunt and grandmother who have both already overindulged at the open bar, muttering an apology as she does. She puts Tobias to work making sure the bows on the backs of chairs are straight, and rushes up to the long table at the front to confirm that the armless chair meant to accommodate Cassie’s bulky skirt is in the correct place.

D.J. is here, playlist at the ready. Dance floor is clear of grass. Weather’s holding, but tent covers are on standby.

Slightly sweaty, she rushes back out with a chair under each arm just in time to catch the guests coming across the lawn.

“Everyone except the parents, head off to the cocktail hour!” she calls. “Jake, Cassie, moms and dads, with me.”

While Marco’s date (a photographer named Dakota) sets up the camera, Rachel goes into a flurry of motion straightening bowties, adjusting hairdos, and touching up makeup. Steve’s got a spot of cow blood on his forehead, she discovers to her horror, and by the time she’s done scrubbing that off Jake’s managed to get his tuxedo jacket misaligned again. Finally she steps back, breathing hard, and nods to Dakota.

Everyone smiles. The camera goes off.

“Okay.” Rachel claps her hands loudly, because Jake and Cassie are looking ready to stand up and go join the reception. “That’s one down, just twenty-three to go.”

********

Rather than tossing her whole bouquet all at once, Cassie picks it apart and gives a single flower to every single guest she can find. When the bouquet itself runs out, she disassembles her flower crown and hands that out piece by piece until everyone’s got at least one blossom. It just seems fairer that way, she says when Rachel asks.

Several of the traditions, Rachel reflects, seem to be lost on Jake and Cassie. They cut the first piece of cake… and immediately hand it to Ax. And then they cut the second piece, and the third piece, and keep right on cutting slices of cake and handing them out to people until Rachel has to step in and wrest the knife away. She’s grateful that they refrain from any of the food-fighting nonsense, since both their wedding outfits are headed to a charity auction first thing tomorrow morning, but honestly. They’re supposed to eat the first two slices, not drop half a tier of cake into the black hole of hungry andalite.

Cake served, Marco clinks a fork against a glass. “Ladies, gentlemen, and proletariats!”

There’s a general murmur as people look around, trying to spot who’s speaking.

With a hand from Jake, Marco climbs bodily onto the banquet table. “Everyone!” he shouts, and now they’re all looking at him. At him, and at the champagne flute in his hand. “Jake and Cassie!”

It gets a polite round of applause.

“Gotta start at the beginning, right?” Marco looks around the room, grinning. “So there I am, some snot-nosed three-year-old, minding my own business. And this chubby, dorky-looking little white kid comes running up to me and is like…” He leans in. “‘You wanna be my best friend?’”

He grins at Jake, who is flushing bright red.

“I shit you not, that was his opening line. ‘You wanna be my best friend?’ So I’m like…” Marco pantomimes reeling back in shock. “I dunno man, seems like a lot of commitment to make to a total stranger. You want explore our options first, maybe get a prenup, see if we’re compatible? I mean, for all I know five years from now you’re gonna find some younger, hotter best friend and then there I’ll be out on my ear with nothing to show for it.”

There’s a smattering of laughter throughout the room. Marco visibly draws strength from it.

“But you know what?” Marco leans down to look around, smiling like he’s got a secret. “Little dork kept right on showing up to my house and letting me use his television and getting his mom to give me fluffer nutters, and next thing I know it turns out he really is my best friend. I think he was onto something.

“Anyway, you think that one was bad…” He raises his eyebrows. “Couple years later, there we are in first grade, and this girl in teeny-tiny first-grader overalls comes into the room like…”

Marco claps one hand over the top of his champagne flute and clamps the other under the base, and actually walks a few steps down the table with the determined air of a very small and klutzy version of Cassie.

“And her opening line is…” Marco raises the flute to his mouth like it’s a microphone, dropping his voice. “‘You wanna see my moth?’”

Again, there’s a smattering of laughter. Cassie has a hand over her mouth, halfway doubled over in giggles at the memory.

“Now, us being minuscule and all, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure that there was no double entendre going on here,” Marco says. “And I have to admit, no one has used that line on me since. So I say ‘sure,’ because I’m like six years old and this seems like a reasonable question. She lifts her hand up…”

Marco accompanies this with a pantomime of peering through his own fingers into his champagne.

He looks up. “And it’s not even a freaking moth!” he cries out. “Turns out, it’s just some little worm thing. So I tell her.” He puts on a snotty voice, mocking his younger self. “‘That’s not a moth, that’s just some little worm thing.’”

There’s a pause. Marco glances around the room. “See if you can tell where this story’s going.”

Marco and Cassie glance at each other. Cassie’s grinning smugly.

“She puts it in the classroom’s terrarium,” Marco drawls. “It turns into a rock. Two weeks later, rock cracks open and out pops a moth.”

The room cracks up again.

“So fast forward another few years, and she’s standing there holding this eight-eyed, venom-fanged thing. And she’s all like ‘just touch the spider, Marco. Don’t you want to be a spider, Marco? Isn’t it cute and fuzzy?’ As if she is completely unaware that she’s holding a giant-ass eight-legged freak.” Marco takes a sip for strength. “And right then, I look at Jake. And I’m thinking Jake, don’t ever let this girl go. Because if she doesn’t even think wolf spiders are ugly, then she’s got no idea about you. So here’s to Jake and Cassie. Made for each other, because no one else will have ‘em.”

Jake pokes Marco in the ankle, but he’s laughing as he does it.

“All right,” Marco says, “brace yourselves, and someone get some more tissues for my second mama, because I’m about to get sappy. I love you, Jean!” he calls. “I know we all gotta cry it out sometimes.”

She laughs and flaps a dismissive hand at him, but she’s also misty-eyed already.

“Dudes, I gotta be honest.” Marco is looking at Jake and Cassie. “I didn’t think we’d get here. I honestly did not believe, for a good long while there, that there were gonna be any weddings or graduations or driver’s licenses in any of our futures. Just seemed like a good idea not to bet on any of us having any futures, you know? Seemed like it might be the surest option.”

Cassie laces her fingers through Jake’s. Silently, her mouth pressed into a line, she nods.

“So, uh.” Marco sniffs, spinning back around and thrusting his champagne flute into the air. “Here’s to me being wrong, yeah?”

“To Marco being wrong!” Jake echoes, and tosses back his glass.

“To Marco being wrong!” the entire room calls back.

Marco jumps back down, Cassie and Jake catching him as he lands.

**********

After everyone but Menderash and Ax has finished eating, it’s Tom who becomes the next one to tink a fork against a glass for attention.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he tells the room, strolling slowly toward the head table. “I promised my brother there wouldn’t be a horah.” Tom stops, directly next to Cassie. “But what he didn’t know is that I’d already made a promise to my new sister-in-law that there would be. So what’s a guy to do?”

He snaps his fingers.

At this cue, several things happen at once. The DJ switches to “Hava Nagila.” Several people mob Jake at once. Tom grabs Cassie and lifts her bodily over his head, carrying her chair and all to the middle of the dance floor.

With a squeak of laughter, Cassie grabs the top of Tom’s head for balance. Jake is being hauled out next to her on a chair of his own, supported by Tobias and Menderash and Rachel and James. Marco and Ax are herding the rest of the gathering, shoving people into a circle and linking arms together as they go.

“I hate you!” Jake calls over the sound of the music and his own fit of giggles.

“Gotta keep the in-laws happy!” Tom yells back, unrepentant.

*********

“You sure you’ve got everything you need?” Rachel asks.

Cheyenne, the head caterer, gives her a double thumbs-up. The staff are tipped and most are ready to go, having divvied up the several extra schaeffers’ worth of falafel and butternut squash puree and other entrees that Rachel’d set aside for them. Melissa is set to take over tending bar from here, as planned, and she’s going to keep the groomsmen after for a few minutes for cleanup duty.

“Okay.” Rachel glances around at where the last of the countertops are getting a quick once-over with disinfectant. “Okay. If anything comes up…”

“I have your number.” Cheyenne smiles and nods.

Pushing back out of the room, Rachel heads for the gift table. Everything looks like it’s in good order, but she wants to make sure it all gets packed up properly and that none of the cards get lost in the kerfuffle. It’s mostly donation receipts, at Jake and Cassie’s request, but some of the traditionalists on both sides came with soup tureens or the like —

“Hey.” Jake catches her by the arm.

Rachel turns to look at him. “What’s wrong? Is it the great-aunts?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s all perfect.” He’s smiling shyly. “Thanks.”

“I need to check on the gifts,” Rachel says, because she’s a coward who doesn’t know how to do mushy conversations, especially not with Jake.

“The gifts are fine,” he says. “It’s all fine. Because you made it that way. So… thanks.”

When he pulls her into a hug, Rachel can’t resist straightening his hair one last time even as she returns the embrace. “You realize I do this for fun, right?” she asks, holding him at arm’s length and looking him in the eye. “Like, I could’ve hired a wedding planner, but honestly why bother?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything. All of it. Without you, Cassie and I wouldn’t even…”

Then, because this is all getting too honest, Rachel links her arm through his and drags him onto the dance floor for, he’s about to realize, their middle school gym class’s favorite godawful square dance.

*********

When she has do-si-doed Jake within an inch of his life, Rachel tosses him at Cassie. She pivots around and gives Tobias a flourishing courtesy; he returns it with an equally ridiculous bow.

“It is marvelous, how well they have adapted their balance to compensate for their lack of legs,” Menderash comments to Ax.

“Very true.” Ax leans next to him against the bar. They are currently sharing a delicious beverage Melissa has made for them, simply by unscrewing the lid from a nearly-empty jar of olives and handing over the remaining liquid.

It is true, some of the dancers are more talented than others. Michelle and Walter are synchronized with each other and the beat of the music, even if their choice of moves is not nearly as audacious as the spinning thing Marco and Dakota are doing. The bride and groom, meanwhile, are looking at their own feet and keep bumping into each other as they move. Between their relative unconcern with anyone but each other and the broad hem of Cassie’s dress, the other couples are giving them a wide berth.

“Do you wish to attempt such feats?” Ax asks, glancing at Menderash.

Menderash gives a full-body shudder. He flaps one hand in an andalite gesture that, if translated to English, would approximate fuck that.

Ax grins, drinking more olive juice.

“Have you done such a thing?” Menderash asks.

“Never for very long,” Ax says.

Jake and Cassie have given up on dancing entirely, descending into a giggle fit in the middle of the dance floor as they both attempt to disentangle Jake’s cuff link from the lace of Cassie’s hem. Rachel swirls by, briefly blocking their view. She’s switched partners. Dakota is doing their best to teach Tobias how to waltz while Marco and Rachel are now swing-dancing their way across the dance floor.

As both andalites watch in awe, Rachel spins Marco in a circle, swinging him out and then drawing him back close to her body. Marco pirouettes, throwing his head back so that his hair flares around his face, and then throws himself backwards. Rachel catches him neatly around the waist, dipping him nearly to the floor. Marco braces on her shoulders and she flings him upward with her whole body so that she actually lifts him off the floor for a second before gracefully sweeping him back down. They separate until just the tips of their fingers are touching, and then spin back together until Marco suddenly swoops under Rachel’s arm, coming up on the far side as she pivots around in time fro him to fall back against her.

Ax is reminded of the way they fight. There’s something almost joyful in their ferocity on the battlefield. There’s something almost frightening in their enthusiasm on the dancefloor. Neither of them seems to know how to do anything by half measure.

One by one the other clusters of dancers have stopped to watch as well. Jake and Cassie, now sitting hopelessly tangled up in each other, seem quite happy to have the spotlight stolen.

Rachel swoops an arm around Marco’s waist and slides into a back-and-forth tango step. Within two beats he’s caught on, falling into the same rhythm as her. When the tempo of the song changes he grabs her shoulder and nudges her into a circular waltz. They’re unrehearsed, and inexpert, but moving with such force and communicating so rapidly that it doesn’t really matter.

“Yes,” Menderash says softly, “I very much do not wish to attempt to dance.”

Ax smiles at him over the rim of the olive jar. It’s empty, and in the time it takes him to set it back on the bar and catch her eye, Melissa has replaced it with maraschino cherry liquid.

The song crescendos; Marco leans his full weight back as Rachel flings him into a long spiraling turn that ends with him sliding on his knees clear between her legs, popping up behind her just in time to brace as she tips backward into him. She spins once, twice, four times, then swings him into a dip so low that his hair brushes the floor.

As the song ends they freeze like that, chests heaving, hair damp with sweat.

They both seem to become aware at once that the whole room’s watching them. Marco opens his mouth to say something, when Rachel’s smile turns wicked. That’s the only warning he gets before she opens her arms and lets him drop. Marco squawks indignantly, throwing out both elbows to catch himself. He gets ahold of Rachel’s arm and tries to yank her down as well, but ends up pulling himself to his feet as well.

The whole room breaks out into clapping. Marco sweeps into a low bow. Rachel visibly considers pushing him over again before deciding against it. Instead she runs to try and rescue Cassie’s hand-sewn lace hem and Jake’s antique silver cufflinks from their respective owners’ incompetence.

*********

“Hey Tobias?” Rachel says around a yawn.

«Uh-huh?»

Idly they watch as Tom waltzes Cassie’s grandmother around the dance floor. She’s 4’11” to his 6’4”, so it’s pretty hilarious to witness. But at least they’re not totally mismatched: each has a single sprig of valerian from Cassie’s bouquet tucked behind one ear.

She and Tobias are sitting on the ground at one corner of the dance floor. Rachel’s got her shoes off to massage her aching ankles, and Tobias is perched back on her shoulder. With clever motions of his beak he’s fishing the pins out of her hair one by one, dropping them into her hand as he slowly disassembles her updo.

“How do you feel about never, ever getting married?” Rachel asks.

Tobias drops another bobby pin into her hand. «Best idea you’ve had all year.»

#animorphs #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #(sadly)#long post #weddings #jake/cassie #cake #alcohol mention #rachel berenson #is the canonically biggest cassie/jake shipper on the planet #do it for her #anonymous #asks

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bellafarallones2 · 3 years

Text

a/n: t-rated indruck fluff from #21 on Veronica Bunch's college au prompt list: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

Duck had signed up for Performance Studies because he needed arts credits and because the meeting time, seven to nine in the evening Tuesdays and Thursdays, worked well with the rest of his schedule. He was less happy when the professor emailed out the homework for the first day: a reading that examined the question “what is performance?” for thirteen dense pages without managing to come to a conclusion.

By the time he showed up to the first class, he barely remembered any of the points the reading had made. Most of the other students already seemed to know each other, and were talking in groups when he arrived. Only one man, a tall guy with silver hair whose black roots suggested he’d spent an evening bent over a sink for it, was sitting alone and silent.

“Anyone sitting here?” said Duck.

“You?” said the guy hopefully. He was wearing jeans and a soft beige cardigan over his white shirt, and there was a small rainbow-flag patch on his black backpack.

“I’m Duck,” Duck said. “And my pronouns are he/him.” He still occasionally got read as a butch lesbian, and it was better to establish the pronoun thing right out of the gate.

“Indrid. I also use he/him.”

That was all they said before the professor showed up and class began. The professor genuinely cared about the material, which made the whole thing more interesting, though Duck was still distracted. Indrid had very nice hands, nails painted chipped black, and he doodled the entire class, filling a whole page with spiky fractals.

Finally nine o’clock arrived. The sky outside was pitch-black. “I’m not really looking forward to walking home this late,” Duck said as he stood waiting for Indrid to finish packing up. “Wish I had your punk privilege.”

“Excuse me?” Indrid looked amused.

“You know. You’re tall and you have piercings.” As Duck said that, Indrid stood up, revealing that he was even taller than Duck had previously thought. Jesus, this guy had Slenderman legs. “You look like you could throw a punch.”

“I could use my punk privilege to walk you home, if you’d like.”

“I’d appreciate it, if it’s not too out of your way - I live on High Street next to the REI.”

“Yeah, I’m going that way.”

Duck held the door as they left the building and walked together down the half-lit street. The planes of Indrid’s face looked almost unearthly in the streetlights.

“You an art major?” Duck asked.

“Visual arts and math. I needed to take something in theater or music as a distribution requirement and this was the least theater or music class I could find that was also after noon.”

Duck laughed. “Yeah, I’m in the forestry program and I had to take something artsy.”

Indrid nodded. They walked in silence for a while, but Indrid didn’t seem to mind, his hands shoved into his pockets and his face turned up.

“This is me,” Duck said when they reached the REI. The door to the apartments above was almost unnoticeable next to the brightly-lit storefront.

“Alright,” Indrid said as Duck fiddled with his key. “See you on Thursday!”

“Goodnight!” said Duck when the door swung open, looking around. As soon as Indrid saw that Duck was inside, he turned and walked back the way they’d come. Duck wondered vaguely where he lived; this block didn’t have many students. Ah, well. A question for another day.

On Thursday before class Duck stopped at the snack bar for dinner and spotted a familiar head of silver hair. Indrid was drawing, his head tilted at an odd angle so he could both look at the page and drink from the straw on a sixteen-ounce cherry slushy.

“Mind if I join you?” said Duck.

Indrid looked up and his face lit up. “Of course! I don’t mind, I mean. Please sit.”

Duck realized then that what he’d assumed was art was in fact math, that Indrid was taking notes out of a slim, intimidating textbook. Duck recognized a couple of integral signs and that was about it. “Math, huh?”

Indrid nodded.

“I had to take Calc 2 for my major, I wish I’d known you then so you could have helped me with it.”

Indrid laughed, tapping his pencil. “I’d have been happy to. Certainly numbers make more sense than people do, sometimes.”

“Probably more sense than that performance reading.” Duck leaned forward. “I don’t suppose you’d be down to walk me home again?”

Indrid shrugged. “You’re good company.”

Duck met Indrid again at the local park that weekend. Their homework for the week was to record themselves performing in a way they did in their daily lives, and Duck didn’t feel like getting into gender, so he’d decided to show how he performed when giving a nature talk, and he’d asked Indrid to help film. (He’d offered to help film Indrid’s performance in return, but Indrid had politely declined, joking about performance anxiety.)

It was less awkward than Duck had been expecting. He walked around the park, pointing out the fungus on a tree trunk and a frog sitting with just its eyes over the surface of the water. Indrid, filming on Duck’s phone, smiled encouragingly whenever he met Duck’s eyes, and it was all Duck could do not to break his train of thought to grin back.

“Thank you for helping me,” he said when he was done.

“Thank you for the free nature walk!” said Indrid as he handed Duck’s phone back to him. Their hands brushed against Duck’s smooth phone case. “I come here to draw sometimes, but I’ve never noticed all that before.”

They watched everyone’s videos in class that week. Most of them were pretty boring. Duck cringed through the playing of his own video, though Indrid had done a good job with the camerawork, and a few of the music majors in the class had recorded themselves playing their instruments, which was at least nice to listen to. And then it was Indrid’s turn.

The video opened on a close-up shot of Indrid’s face. I am an artist, the voiceover said, Indrid’s own voice booming across the classroom. Sometimes I even look like it.

The Indrid on the screen bent his head - he was looking not at the camera but at a mirror behind it, putting on heavy eyeliner and spotty mascara. He switched out the subtle studs along the shell of his ear for something heavier, flashier, chain running between the holes. Then he stepped back from the camera and shrugged on a black leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders. A punk jacket. He posed, self-conscious, and as he started laughing the camera cut sharply to his face, again large.

I had an internship last summer with an insurance company calculating risk. He rubbed the makeup off his face with a makeup wipe, his eyes reddening slightly at the contact. He removed the jacket and folded it carefully before placing it out of frame. And then he picked up a pale blue button-down and buttoned it carefully down over his undershirt, and tied a tie in a perfect Windsor around his neck. He removed the bar from his eyebrow and the chains from his ears, which looked rather naked without them.

I perform to look like the things I know I can do. He dabbed concealer over the rosy maple moth tattooed at his neck, one wingtip peeking over the collar of the shirt. Then he held his hand out for a handshake, a business handshake, and sure, he looked like the kind of person Duck would trust to sell insurance. But there was something about his smile, something Duck wondered if anyone else could see. Something that lingered no matter what he wore.

Duck probably should spend less time thinking about his mouth.

“So my lease ends in January,” said Duck casually as they turned the corner onto his street. “And I’ve been having trouble finding other places that rent to students in this neighborhood, so I was wondering how you found your place.”

“Oh,” said Indrid, sounding guilty. “Well, I don’t know how much help I can be. I live up by the corner of 16th street and Broad.”

Duck did some quick mental geography as he climbed the step up to the front door. “That’s completely the other direction!”

“I know.” He was dressed like neither an insurance salesman nor a metal punk, today, with gold studs glittering in his ears like grains of sand and a soft, oversized sweater falling off one shoulder. The black roots of his hair had grown since the beginning of the term.

“You told me the first day of class that walking home wouldn’t be going out of your way! You know I don’t need walking home, right?”

“Of course. I just. Uh. I wanted to spend more time with you. I’m sorry for misleading you, we can stop if it makes you feel weird.”

Duck looked down at him. Indrid stood silently, awaiting judgment. “How about you come in?”

Indrid looked up. “I don’t mean to impose, it’s no trouble to walk home -”

Duck held out his hand. Indrid took it and followed him up the stairs without letting go. “You aren’t allergic to cats, are you?” Duck said when he finally had to take his hand back to unlock the door.

“Even if I was, I’d happily resign myself to sneezing.”

Duck opened the door and, as soon as Indrid was inside, crowded him up against it. Indrid slowly lifted his hands, trembling, and rested them on Duck’s shoulders. His gaze beneath his glasses flicked from Duck’s eyes to his lips and back again.

“Can I kiss you?” Duck said.

“Yes please.”

Indrid’s mouth was warm and soft and yielded so easily to Duck’s tongue, fuck, they should have done this sooner. Class would have been so much more bearable if he could have been looking over at Indrid’s lips the whole time knowing that as soon as class was over he could drag him out into the hallway, into one of the gender-neutral bathrooms in the arts building and kiss him silly.

“You don’t have any morning classes tomorrow, do you?” Duck asked when he finally pulled away enough to speak.

Indrid shook his head.

“Want to watch a movie and make out?”

“That sounds perfect.”

#indruck

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Note

Ok! So tanaka, kageyama, tusukishima, and asahi are all pretty scary boys at first glance. So I was wondering how they would react to a new 2nd year manager not being fazed by them at all (maybe she has alot of older brothers or something) and calling them cute. Love you writing. I didn't see a character limit so if this is to many feel free to cut some 😘😘

Thank you!!!! I loved this one it was so fun to write so please request again :) Hope you enjoy it 🧝🏾‍♀️😘

———————————

“Scary” Karasuno Volleyball Boys Meet Their Maker!

Tsukishima | Asahi | Kageyama | Tanaka x Reader

———————————

You and Kiyoko used to be friends in elementary school because her mom and both of your dads were in the military so you’d often be the only two young kids at events and ceremonies

She would only come sometimes but you would be an active member of your dads military boot camp year after year, and seeing Kiyoko, another girl sometimes was always awesome

The two of you became pretty good acquaintances and one summer at boot camp she would occasionally show you the ropes when you said you were interested in joining the 200m hurdle

While you two weren’t close, you followed eachother on all social media platforms and would sweetly comment “😍😍😍” on eachother’s posts

When she got injured you made sure to send her a text of endearment and she thanked you

Y’all were those type of friends

So that’s why you weren’t too surprised when you received a text from her while painting your nails one night in your room

Kiyoko had kindly asked you if you could take over her duties as Karasuno’s volleyball manager while she left to Greece with her family tomorrow for a wedding

She would be gone for 2 weeks and apparently the girl she had gotten too replace her just backed out completely at the last minute

You thought about it, realizing you had nothing to do other than train your team of female spartan racers, before replying ‘sure! 🤷🏾‍♀️’ and asked her what you needed to do

Kiyoko prepared you to the best of her ability, sending you a long scrolling text of the job. She said that although she wouldn’t be able to introduce you, the the boys are super kind even though they can get a little rowdy

A little nervous but wanting to help nonetheless, you agreed and confirmed the favour once again

The next day the boys had a practice and you had a little bit of difficulty finding their gym. You had gone to the girls vball team gym first and the captain pointed you in the right direction

When you approached what must be boys’ gym from outdoors you saw a blonde girl about your size scarily jutting around the outside of the gym like she was being stalked for murder

She was clutching a bag tightly

You guessed that maybe this wasn’t the gym, but you could have sworn this is where that team captain told you to go

You held your ground a few feet away because she was obviously terrified and you didn’t want to scare her more than she already was. You could hear her mumbling under her breath things like ‘they’re going to kill me’ ‘I’m too little to die’ ‘so strong, so tall. So very tall.’ ‘Attack on Titan is me. I am attack on Titan. I am MARCO!’

Who is Marco.....? You questioned in your mind.

Your military senses peaked as you changed modes to enemy approaching preparation.

You didn’t know you had these senses, but your dads would be so proud

The petite blonde was twitching and fiddling her hands while her eyes darted around.

She also had been so wrapped up in her terror to notice you there watching her. Seeing a cute mini side ponytail in her short blonde hair reminded you of a toddler’s hairstyle and you immediately felt the need to protect her. Your dads had taught you as much, and your years of self-defence class and borderline military training by copying the guys at your dads camps had built you quite the esteem. You knew immediately that you were going to save her.

“Excuse me?”

“AH!” The girl screamed and jumped 4 feet in the air when you spoke. You held your hands up in surrender, though you remained on guard for her pursuer.

“Hey, hey! I really didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

With bugged eyes, the girl explained to you that she had been studying in the gym by herself when she heard a bunch of gang men approach. According to her they were huge, threatening and super scary so she scrambled for cover but when she tried running through the door she had bumped into their leader who had a bunch of piecings, a rockstar dye-job who was smoking a cigarette. Before he could beat her up for crashing into him she picked up her bag and and ran away. Come to find out she had taken his bag by mistake because it was the same colour and size and she didn’t mean to! Now she is being hunted down by the leader’s big scary hunchmen who will literally pummel her when they find her! They’ve been calling after her saying threats like ‘We just want the bag, we promise not to hurt you’ but she’s heard that in scary movies and apparently that’s what they want her to think before they hurt her!!!

Before the girl (who you were able to get her to introduce herself as Yachi from class 1-5) fainted induced by anxiety, you stopped her.

You were pissed. How could big tall men be okay with trying to hurt a sweet first year girl like this?!

The world was evil.

She couldn’t be much smaller than you, but she had no where near your combat expertise.

You held your hand out for Yachi to hand you the bag.

She handed it over with trembling hands

“Where did you last see them?” You demanded just like your dads would have.

Yachi immediately freaked out, claiming that you’re just as small as her and they would crunch you like a potato chip!

Slightly insulted, you managed to give her a sweet smile and ask again.

She pointed in the direction of the outdoor vending machines near the gym.

“I’ll get your bag Yachi don’t worry. Do you want to wait here for me or do you feel safe coming with? It would be great if you were able to actually point them out, because there are a lot of boys here by the school not to mention I can better protect you when you’re close by.”

Yachi gave you a look as if she was seeing the stars for the first time. She was in complete awe of you because you emitted a mass amount of strength.

The energy around you was comparable to that of a decorated military Five Star General who had just been challenged to a game of laser tag.

Seeing Yachi visibly gulp, she agreed to come with you because chances are she’d be able to call for help louder than you and she held onto your arm as you walked.

She hid behind your shoulder, afraid

Looking around, you spotted a group of 4 large guys in the distance by the vending machine— just like Yachi pointed out

Without your glasses on, you couldn’t make them out very well from this distance

Yachi almost squeezed a bruise into your arm which confirmed that was indeed the guys that were awaiting her decease, she said

There was a tall one with dark hair that had a permanent scowl on is face who was staring at the vending machines options like a psycho. The smallest one (who was still very tall) looked tough—must be the braun because he had quite the biceps and his hair was shaven like the boys in your dad’s training camps. One of them looked like a grown man with a man bun that really should be signing off on big stock deals or something. The giant one was blonde with glasses but he appeared to be the verbal slicer—since you could see his mouth mumble something to the military looking one, who flinched like he had been physically stabbed through the chest.

You had to admit, you could see why Yachi was scared of them...a little

Straightening your shoulders so to seem a little bit taller, you took a deep breath and stalked towards these bullies

You were ready to give them a piece and a half of your mind

You would rip them a new one like they deserved

And if it got physical, you were more than equipped to handle them due to your years of training

As you approached, the boys noticed the bag you held and their eyes lit up like they’d just been saved

They started toward you making Yachi gasp.

You cracked your knuckles in preparation

But... when you got closer to them enough to make out their faces, something Kiyoko explained to you got thrown to the forefront of your memory..... and then you realized.

Wait a second.....

“There you are, uhh... small person. You took our coaches bag!” Exclaimed the one with defined biceps.

The small blonde girl behind you let out a shriek and tried to book it. You held onto her arm now as she screamed bloody murder, begging the 4 boys not to kill her because she had a single mother at home who needed her. The boys tried to explain their reasoning over her screams which only made things more chaotic! You gave the four boys a look of death to shut up and they did.

You patiently waited for toddler girl to chill.

“Uh Yachi??”

“Y-y-y-ye-ye-yes?”

“You said these were the assailants you were running away from?”

“Mhm. Don’t look them in the eye!” She shut hers tightly.

You smirked, officially letting your guard down. Now you remembered everything Kiyoko sent you in that text, including who-was-who on the team, what they looked like, and what each player specifically needed managerial-wise.

“Is it Tanner? No, Tanaka from my year, Asahi 3rd......and those two—- Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio, right? They are in your year..... they’re all Karasuno volleyball players.”

Yachi looked dumbfounded.

“Volleyball players...........................of doom?”

You shook your head, cupping Yachi’s shaking hands in yours. You gave this girl who reminded you of a toddler the kindest smile you could muster.

“I’ve never officially met these guys but Kiyoko has told me lots about them. I do see them bickering in the hallways a lot though, and it’s adorable. They are totally and completely harmless.”

“Harmless?” Yachi repeated you as if she’d never heard the word before.

“Well, I wouldn’t say it in such a de-masculine manner......” Tsukishima deadpanned, irritated by the fact that you spoke of them like they had the strength of a group of newborn goldfish.

Tanaka felt the same way. He mumbled “We do harm on the court! And just because you’re a pretty girl doesn’t mean you can say that we aren’t tough—“

Tsukki told him to shut up before he scared the toddler girl again.

Kageyama drank his little milk carton, barely listening to the commotion as Asahi, silent in the back, was about to start bawling. He was just so happy to be called harmless instead of monster by someone so much smaller than him his heart was going to explode 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Luv him

“Yep! Harmless.” You chirped, eyes twinkling at Yachi. You reassured her some more. “Total softies. You have nothing to worry about! Kiyoko told me that once on the bus ride home from a game she played a movie on the bus......and in the end Kiyoko counted all of them crying to the wedding scene in Princess and the Frog.”

“Hey now—“ Tanaka yelled, red in the face from anger but mostly humiliation. You looked over at the boys and noticed they were all pretty red. Tsuki had actually turned away to totally hide his face, starting toward the gym without so much as a goodbye.

“Brat.” He muttered. The boys followed with their tails between their legs.

“See? They couldn’t even deny it.” You smiled at Yachi. She visibly calmed down. “They’re just a bunch of cute little crows😊.”

Tsukki has returned with a scowl that didn’t scare either of you this time. He held out his hand expectantly.

“May we have our coach’s bag back, now? I trust you two can find your way back to Snow White the other 5 dwarves in one piece, correct?”

Ouch. You winced at his short person joke. Wow, Kiyoko was right about Kei’s stinging verbal jabs.

But Psh. You were a black belt. You could handle military men. You could even beat some of them in an arm-wrestle sometimes.

So you definitely weren’t afraid of any volleyball boys, no matter how badly this cute tall one’s jabs stung.

You smiled at Tsuki who didn’t return it in the slightest. You moved to hold out the bag in front of you for him to take, but low enough so he’d have to lean down to retrieve it.

When he went to grab the bag, you expertly maneuvered it out of his grasp before taking his cheek between your fingers in a tight squeeze. So gullible, this one. You had him trapped, just like you would a toddler.

“I’ll bring it to coach Ukai myself cutie patootie.” You gave him a sickeningly sweet smile. He stared at you with surprised eyes before you continued. “After all, we’ll be getting to know each other pretty well as temp-manager and coach. Don’t you think?” The King of Passive Aggression’s eyes widened in shock behind his adorable glasses. You released his cheek from your grasp.

“Now get in the gym, soldier. You can introduce me to the rest of the team’s cuties and tell them that Karasuno’s new babysitter is here!”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu sfw #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu funny stories #haikyuu humour #haikyuu funny moments #tsukishima x reader #kageyama tobio #hitoka yachi #tanaka x y/n #tsukishima x you #karasuno #crows

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colorseeingchick · 3 years

Note

hi enya! i’d like to request the self ship date for your 200 event!! congratulations again 💞

right now i’m currently in love with murasakibara 🥴 i really like him because well he’s just so cool even though he’s “lazy” and the fact that he snacks a lot is cute and also relatable because i feel like i’m always snacking as well. plus his determination is admirable even though he always whines about being tired, which is also relatable. and he’s just so pretty!!! agh maybe it’s the long hair or maybe his height but he’s just so pretty i cant 🧎‍♀️💞

as for myself, we both know you know me pretty well 😌 but for some hobbies, i dance, i can cook & bake i’m just to lazy to or don’t have the stuff for it, i love to read romance manga, i like roller skating, and of course watching anime/moves/tv shows!!

Meg have mercy on this monstrosity I've created. This is the DEFINITION of carried away.

Premise: You had plans with your friends to hang out, but last minute they had to cancel. When you walk out to the main hall of the dorms, you find Murasakibara snacking on some food and watching TV. You were the manager of Yosen, so you considered Murasakibara a good friend, even though you two hadn’t really hung out without other people around. When he asks you why you look down, you tell him that your schedule was now (undesirably) empty. He has a solution.

“Why don’t we do something?” He pauses the rustle of his hand rummaging through the chips.

You look up at him from your spot on the floor (you’d been lounging around in your pjs, a large stuffed animal acting as a pillow as you sprawled out on the ground). “Like what?” You weren’t used to Murasakibara asking to do things, especially not with you.

“We can go, get food? Or something.” he wouldn’t look you in the eyes, but you didn’t care too much. A huge smile crossed your face as you jumped up, quickly shuffling towards Murasakibara on your knees, opting not to stand. His eyes go wide as he sees you approaching him.

“Really! Will you really go with me?” You look at him, leaning against the couch he sat on.

“Yes. I already said I would.”

“Ahhh, you’re the best, Mu-kun!” You leap up, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders (you can barely get them around to his back), before running off to get changed. “I’ll go get ready quickly! I’ll be back!”

You didn’t see the way his face erupted pink- but don’t worry. There was time for you to see later.

You throw on a pink crop top covered in tiny cows and a pair of ripped jeans- if you were going out, might as well look a bit cute, you think to yourself.

Stepping out into the hallway, you’re shocked to find Murasakibara...trying? With his appearance? He had a decent sense of style, you knew, but he usually just defaulted to a graphic shirt and joggers. Finding him a black fitted shirt with ripped jeans and chains of his own was surprising, but very welcomed. He had one of his huge zip up jackets on, though.

“Murasakibara, you look so good!” You cheer at him. Running to him and grabbing his hand, you tug him (well, try to) out the door. “I’m hungry, let’s go.” While slow, he followed you, internally noting how small your hands were in comparison to his. “I’m driving.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t crash us.” He teases as he reclines your passenger seat as far back as possible.

“Ah, excuse you-” you nudge him. “Where should we get food from?”

He stares at you, looking at your features illuminated by the street lights. You’d already started driving, but who knows where to. “Wherever you want.”

You ended up driving to your favorite restaurant in the area, a diner with food on the cheaper end with great quality. It was comfy. As you and Murasakibara sit down, you’re greeted by a young male waiter who takes an obvious interest in you.

Actually, uh. Well, it’s obvious to Murasakibara. Not so much to you.

“How are ya doin’ tonight?” His flirting wasn’t obvious per say, but Murasakibara sees the way he looks at you. The waiter manages to ignore the death glare that was sent his way, though. After you both order your food, you noticed Murasakibara’s pout and glare.

“Hey are you okay?” You ask him, unsure of what had unsettled him.

“Just hungry.” he waves your concern off. “...so, how was your day?”

You assumed he was trying to avoid the work of carrying the bulk of conversation, which was pretty in character, so you happily chatted away, telling him about the stupid things that happened when you went shopping in the morning and when you got your nails redone.

When your food came about, you thanked your waiter when you noticed a pin on his shirt.

“Oh my gosh, is that a Red Riot pin!?”

“It is! Are you a My Hero fan?”

As you expressed your love of Kirishima, you were surprised when the waiter seemingly abruptly excused himself.

“...I wonder what that was about.”

“Mm. eet was ooddh” Murasakibara responds, mouth stuffed. His demeanor was relaxed, but had you turned around moments earlier you’d have seen that his eyes were screaming murder.

After eating your shares of food and talking about random things, you were ready for the check.

“I’m paying for you.” Murasakibara says.

“You don’t have to, Murasakibara-kun!” You’re quick to respond.

“I’m paying.”

“No.”

“I’m paying.”

“Are you sure?”

The waiter walks up to you both, hands clasped and a nervous look on his face. “So, are we doin’ a split bill or-”

“I’m paying.” Murasakibara says to the waiter.

“Got it. He’s paying.”

“Hey, I’m serious you really didn’t have to! That’s not fair is it?”

“You always buy me snacks and things. Lemme pay for you this time.” His tired eyes gaze up at you, something unspoken lingering behind them.

“Fineee, but I’m paying next time, okay?” He smiles at that, so you’ll take it as a yes.

Driving back to the dorms, a sign catches your eyes.

“Oh my gosh, they’re open!” You cut your previous train of thought short.

“Ehh? What is?” Murasakibara turns to you, curiosity heavy in his voice.

“The new roller rink! I love roller skating I’ve wanted to go for so long. Can we go?” The question slips out of your mouth before you realized you’d asked it.

Murasakibara just stares at you from the passenger seat in silence. “What a pain.”

“Wait, really?”

“Go before I change my mind,” his tone was whiny as he stared out the window, resting his chin on his hand propped up on the car door. You let out a delighted squeal as you drive to the rink.

“I’ll be sitting here.” Once you two enter the rink, Murasakibara sits on the side immediately. It takes a lot of pleading and tugging on his arm to get him to come with you.

After getting the skates (and the people behind the counter struggling to find a pair in the back big enough for Murasakibara), the two of you entered the rink. In your excitement, you glide through the rink, going fast in a circle and smiling wide. It’s only once you come around that you realize Murasakibara hasn’t moved. He’s still by the side of the wall, holding on.

“What’s wrong?”

“...” the blank stare on his face and the irritation rising on the corner of his lips said everything.

“You don’t know how to skate, do you.” You hit it on the head. His pout exaggerates as he tries to slide forward, losing his balance at even the smallest movement.

“I promise it’s not that hard, I can teach you!” you’re grateful that the rink was empty except for you two, the 3 workers, and some other teens who were minding their own business on the other side.

He listens to your instruction, moving away from the wall, and glides forward three times before slamming onto the ground.

“Ahh, are you okay?” you reached out to help him up. You’d seem him slam to the ground harder in games, but the concern was real nonetheless.

But he just waves you off and manages to stand on his own. This process repeats for a couple more times, with each passing time Murasakibara getting better and better.

“You’re such a fast learner! It took me a while to learn.” He wouldn’t say anything but he glowed from your praise. All that being said, he was still slow to move. You didn’t mind taking the initiative and grabbing his hand, holding it as you got him to skate with you. Admittedly, it gave you butterflies (you’d wanted to hold his hand properly for such a long time, instead of just tugging him in a direction before letting go). His hands are giant compared to yours. ou could barely even see your hands while he held it, except for your bright pink nails. But he held your hand tight the entire time, quietly keeping his balance. As you two started to go faster and faster, you gained good momentum till Murasakibara miscalculated on a turn and ended up falling. Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, his hold on your hand hadn’t let up.

“AH!” You fall back onto the giant man who met the grounds only moments before you do.

“Shit, are you okay?” It’s his turn to ask you. When you burst out laughing, he lets go of his baited breath quietly.

“That was so fun!”

“Are you...hurt though?” Showing concern is hard, he thinks. It’s hard to do without his face burning up.

As you say “I’m fine, you cushioned my fall,” you both notice you’re still on top of Murasakibara, your chest pressed against his stomach. Out of shyness you shuffle away, hurrying to your feet. “We should get going,” you remark, trying to get out of the rink. But not without falling onto your face.

“Oi- Meggie-chin!” That sounded like it hurt.

By the way you sputtered and shook your head, he could tell it shook you a bit. He was able to help you get back on your feet and roll you to your shoes (he really did learn fast).

“Let’s go home. I’m hungry.”

“There’s a convenience store next door! Let’s go get some snacks!~” You seemed unphased by your fall at the thought of more food, running out the door to the store.

Yeah, it was no surprise Murasakibara was down bad for you. What more could he have wanted than a girl who loves food the way he does?

~~~

The store was illuminated with neon lights, the isles neatly organized. As Murasakibara snagged snacks off every wall, you were checking out the dairy product isle.

He comes up beside you, noticing the way you shivered.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t decide what type of ice cream to buy. Or if I want ice cream at all. It’s so cold in here! But what if it’s hot back in the dorms and I’ll want ice cream then?” You pause to think. “Ah! I can’t decide.”

Your sight is blinded when a warm fabric falls over your head. “Take my jacket. Then decide.”

As you pull the jacket off your head, you pull it over your arms. It was giant on you. The ends came down to your mid thigh and the sleeves consumed your arms. But it smelled of his cologne and was so warm. Blushing at the fact your crush gave you his JACKET, you happily grab 2 cartons of ice cream in celebration. As you walk up to the register, you see Murasakibara with 2 cartons of strawberry milk.

“I know you like them. We can drink them back at the dorms.” You never recalled telling him you liked strawberry milk, even though you did drink them quite often. But you didn’t take him for the kind to notice that.

~~~

“I had a lot of fun, Murasakibara-kun.” You smile as you both walk back into the dorms. “We should do that again. Maybe. But only if you want to!”

“I wanna watch that show.”

“Huh?” You didn’t know what he was talking about.

“My Hero. You were talking about it earlier. I haven’t had time to watch it, so if you wanna watch it with me you can. I guess.”

Your crush asked you to watch tv with him? Big dub!

“I’d love to! Just let me know when, okay?”

“Next Friday?”

Jumping onto your bed, you squeal into your pillow as you process the fun hangout you had with your crush. You hadn’t really been on your phone much, so you finally decide to check it.

“New message from: Enya-chi” : swiping on the notification, you see-

IASIUDHFOSIJDF MEG UR GOING ON A DATE WITH MURASAKIBARA!?!?!?! GET IT GIRL ;)

Unsure of how she knew and it being called a date, you videocall her.

“MEG oh my God how was it!” “Wait wait wait Enya what do you mean “date?”

She looks at you in shock. “Bro, I was with Kise, Aomine, and all them when Kise got a call from Mu-kun and he said he asked you on a date and wanted advice. What do you MEAN you don’t KNOW what I mean by date!!?? Ma’am!!!!!”

As you think back on everything that happened throughout the day, the implications of it being more than a hangout started to settle on you. Your face burned a bright red.

“Earth to MEGGG~ oh my God did he really not tell you it was a date?” She dissolves into hysterics.

"No!!!???? He just asked to hang out!"

“Meggie-chi he’s an idiot! He was supposed to tell you. He probably forgot okay?” Kise’s voice cuts through as he jumps onto the screen.

“He didn’t forget he definitely just didn’t have the nerves-” Aomine’s voice can be heard in the background.

“So when’s the next date~” Kise and Enya wait expectantly for your answer.

Oh my God.

Let’s do this again.

“Oh my I asked him out again, and he said next Friday.”

“I think you’ll be seeing him sooner than that though. You have to return that jacket you’re wearing.” Enya giggles, a broad smile on her face.

At the realization you still had it on, you hang up, too overwhelmed to talk.

This was about to get interesting.

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

Funnily enough this only took like an hour total. But yeah i'm crazy I'm sorry you're friends with a crazy girl meg

#knb #csc hits 200 #colorseeingchick milestone

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bouquetwrites · 3 years

Text

POV: it’s totally still July shhhhh (🔞🔞🔞)

Alfonse plans something special for Kiran’s birthday. He enlists the help of Claude, whose own birthday isn’t too far behind.

HEADS UP (seven up):

1. There’s very nsfvv content under the cut. Please only read this if you’re 18 or older.

2. CW for a tiny bit of alcohol consumption. Not enough for anybody to get drunk but still putting that out there just to be safe

No matter how much time had passed; no matter what was happening in the days leading up to it, Kiran was always excited when her birthday was approaching. She saw it as a perfect excuse to spoil herself at any turn, which she often felt she needed once the day arrived. When she and Alfonse began their courtship, he made sure to go above and beyond for her in order to make her special day even more wonderful. Such efforts never went unnoticed to her, and she loved him even more than she thought herself capable for it.

Unfortunately, it seemed she would have to wait until the evening to spend time with him this year. She was woken up in the morning by Sharena bringing her breakfast in bed, which included a note from the prince. He wished her a happy birthday, informing her that he made the mouthwatering stack of chocolate chip pancakes and included the bowl of strawberries for her, as he knew it was her favorite breakfast. He also wrote that he had multiple meetings throughout the day, so he wasn’t able to see her until the last one was over. The note, however, ended with a promise to more than make it up to her when he was done with them, and a cheesy yet endearing reminder of his love for her.

The breakfast was delicious, as was to be expected when Alfonse was on kitchen duty. The rest of Kiran’s morning was spent with Sharena, which consisted of them visiting the accessory shop in the Aether Resort and treating themselves to the ones they had their eyes on for quite a while now. In the afternoon, she met up with Tana and Lene, joining them in getting their nails done; something she was ever so grateful for still being a possibility in this world. She opted for a vibrant purple, similar to the ends of her hair, which she found to be quite beautiful.

The first part of her evening was spent having drinks with Claude on the beach. It just so happened that his birthday and hers were close together, so they opted to celebrate both at the same time. As the sun set, the hot summer air had faded into a pleasant, warm breeze, making the experience more enjoyable for the both of them. She certainly believed Claude deserved to enjoy himself, as he came from a Fodlan torn apart by war; approximately five years after his time at Garreg Mach. While he definitely matured in those five years, it was nice to see they hadn’t completely broken his spirit.

“Is there a drinking age in Fodlan?” She asked him.

“When you’re old enough to marry, that’s when you’re old enough to drink.” He responded. “Of course, that varies depending on where in Fodlan you are. I had a classmate from Faerghus that would have been engaged during her time at the academy, had it not been for her betrothed dying.”

Well, that took a slightly dark turn rather quickly.

“...she was kind of terrible. If you ever summon her, promise you’ll keep her as far from me as you can.” He went on.

“I can’t make any guarantees there, but I’ll try my best.” Kiran spoke, unable to fight back her laughter at his request. “After all, you are one of my favorites.”

Claude was never one for blushing, but he did so at her declaration, as well as her laying her hand on his shoulder and sliding a bit closer to him. The two certainly became well acquainted during his time in Askr, and in that time he was slowly growing more and more attracted to her. She found him to be quite enticing as well, and while she and Alfonse had discussed the possibility of bringing a third person into their courtship, she wanted to make sure he would be okay with that person being Claude.

“I am, huh?” He playfully questioned. “You know, if you have favorites, you’re not supposed to say it. Makes the others feel bad.”

“Yeah, yeah, like some of them can’t tell without me saying it.” She replied with a smirk. “You should hear the way Serra talks about me when she doesn’t realize I can hear her.”

The two continued to laugh and chat idly as they watched the calm waves of the ocean and sipped on their tropical beverages. They exchanged stories of how they would celebrate their birthdays before their time in Askr, and both had vastly different experiences to speak of, but wonderful ones nevertheless. As the sky grew darker, they opted to return to the castle, where they were surprised with an enormous cake that rivaled the one served at Sigurd and Deirdre’s vow renewal. Kiran wondered if such a large cake was necessary for a simple birthday, even if it was for two people. Once she got to have a bite of it, however, her questioning was pushed to the side, as it was undoubtedly delicious.

As the summoner took in the celebratory surroundings while also enjoying a second piece of her and Claude’s cake, she was surprised to feel a pair of arms around her waist, holding her close as she felt someone’s chest against her back. She promptly turned around to find her prince standing behind her, his warm smile making her heart flutter.

“Babe!” She cheered, putting her fork down on her plate as she pulled him in for a kiss.

“Happy birthday, my sweetheart.” Alfonse gushed. “Gods, it feels wonderful to finally be out of that council room and here with you.”

“It feels wonderful to have you here.” Kiran replied. “Oh! You have to try this cake, it is absolutely to die for.”

She picked her fork back up, sticking it in a small bit of her piece and holding it up to him. Upon taking the bite offered to him, his eyes lit up. He took the fork from her in order to have more of it, prompting her to roll her eyes as she unsuccessfully attempted to fight back an amused smile.

“Prince Alfonse!” Claude called out, approaching the couple and draping an arm over the prince’s shoulders. “Glad you could make it. I was starting to worry about you.”

“Happy early birthday, Duke Riegan.” Alfonse chuckled, patting him on his back. “I trust that you are well?”

“Better now that you’re here.” The dark haired man replied, winking.

“Flirting with my boyfriend while I’m standing right here, I see.” Kiran joked.

“Now, now, summoner, no need for jealousy. There’s plenty of me to go around.” Claude told her.

Alfonse and Kiran eventually snuck off after enjoying more of the festivities, seeking some time alone with one another. What the summoner didn’t know was there was a surprise waiting for her in her room. Alfonse shielded her eyes as she turned her doorknob, and when he pulled his hands away, she was beyond awestruck. The room was decorated with many candles, which made it light up in the most beautiful way. There were also rose petals on the floor, which were arranged alongside some of the candles into a path that led to her bed, which was decorated with them as well. Her jaw dropped upon the sight, and she turned to find her prince with a warm and knowing expression.

“My last meeting ended earlier than I told you it would.” He confessed, sliding his hands onto her hips and pulling her close. “I spent that extra time putting this together. If we were to be intimate tonight, I wanted it to be more special and romantic for you, because you only deserve the best.”

“Well, you definitely nailed that part.” She whispered, rubbing his chest with her hands and winking at him. “All that’s left is for you to nail me.”

“Ah, not yet, love.” He laughed. “There’s… something missing at the moment.”

It was then that the pair heard a knock on the door, prompting them to turn to look at it.

“Is that my queue? I’m lonely out here.” They heard a voice from the other side, which… sounded like Claude?

“Yes, you may enter, Duke Riegan.”

Upon hearing Alfonse’s confirmation that it was in fact Claude standing outside, and watching him enter the room, Kiran almost froze in place. Sure, she and Alfonse had talked about it before, but they had yet to mention specific people that they had in kind when it came to it. Did either of them know something that she didn’t?

“Told you there was plenty of me to go around.” Claude spoke as he winked at the couple, pulling off his gloves and setting them on the table. “And please, Alfonse, you don’t have to be so formal when it’s just us.”

The summoner’s hand shot up to her mouth, trying to suppress her giggles as she buried herself in Alfonse’s embrace. The two men were absolutely successful in their attempt to surprise her, and them being able to pull this off so easily made her want them even more. Heat rose to her cheeks when Claude took her hand in his, removing it from her face and pressing his lips against it. She picked her head up, looking up at Alfonse as he gently yet passionately kissed her.

“Do you like your present so far?” The prince inquired when he pulled away.

“Well, I haven’t had much of a chance to unwrap it yet.” She teased, glancing back and forth between the two men. “But so far it definitely has my interest.”

With that, she captured her boyfriend’s lips once more, hastily grabbing him by his hips and jerking him closer to her. The prince’s eyes widened in surprise but he welcomed her bold advances, swiftly closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. Claude slid a hand around her waist and went to kiss her neck, his warm breath and ticklish beard on her exposed skin sending shivers through her veins and enveloping her body with an overwhelming heat at the same time.

Alfonse continued to caress his girlfriend’s mouth with his own, slipping his tongue in when she let out a needy gasp. An eager hand of his slowly trailed down her alluring curves, stopping at her leg and lifting it to wrap around his waist. She let out a muffled noise of pleasure as his clothed bulge pressed against her hot core, internally cursing the barrier between them as she leaned against the equally aroused man behind her to steady herself. A low groan escaped Claude’s mouth when he felt her hand cup and rub at his own erection, which now strained against his pants.

The trio’s immense desire for each other steadily increased as Alfonse broke the kiss but continued to grind his hips against Kiran’s. His heart swelled at the sight of her eyes tightly shut and mouth wide open, only producing sounds that made it clear that she was very much enjoying herself. The man with piercing green eyes behind her lifted his head from the crook of her neck, bringing a hand up to cradle her face and turn it towards him. Her body tensed and cheeks turned hot at his charmingly sensuous gaze, the smirk his mouth formed into making him even harder to resist.

“Mind if I kiss your girlfriend for a bit, Alfonse?” He spoke with a flirtatious tone.

“That would be for her to decide.” The blue haired man told him.

The summoner arched an eyebrow at this proposition, tapping her chin and humming playfully as she glanced back and forth at the two men between her. Of course she wanted to kiss the leader of the Alliance; she’d be shocked to meet someone that didn’t want to. However, she was feeling rather bold, and decided to wait a few seconds before giving her answer.

“Permission granted, on one condition.” She responded, pointing a finger at the prince. “Start taking your clothes off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Alfonse laughed, stepping back and fumbling with the top button of his shirt.

The other man wasted no time, pulling the summoner closer to him and capturing her lips with his. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, gently nibbling at her bottom lip so as not to hurt her. He and Alfonse were around the same height, so she still had to stand on her toes in order for them to be face to face. To make this easier for herself, she laid her hands on both of his shoulders, allowing herself to deepen their lip lock. She was surprised to find that he seemed to truly know what he was doing while kissing her; but she definitely wasn’t complaining.

“Feels like you have a lot of experience in this area.” She panted as she briefly pulled away from him.

“That’s because I do. I have some in the other parts of this as well.” He replied, winking at her. “A lot can happen in five years, Kiran.”

As the pair continued to intertwine one another, Alfonse found the sight to be surprisingly arousing. He was rather slow with the unbuttoning of his shirt because he couldn’t keep his eyes off of them. A relief he wasn’t expecting washed over him as he finished with that, shrugging the article of clothing off and letting it fall to the floor. He then stepped out of his boots, kicking them aside and hooking a thumb under the waistband of his pants. However, he didn’t slip out of them right away, trailing his other hand down to his painfully hard length straining against them.

He let out a quiet sigh of pleasure as he stroked himself over his clothes, ensuring he wouldn’t interrupt Kiran and Claude. The relief he felt was only brief, however, as soon they began to feel more restrictive than before. He pulled his hand from his aching bulge, pushing off his pants as well as his undergarments, sighing contently as he freed his swollen member from its restraint. Now entirely naked with nothing holding him back, he immediately wrapped a hand around his cock, already wet from pre-cum, and slowly began working his hand up and down his shaft.

“Hey, that’s my job.” He suddenly heard, looking up to find the summoner eyeing him, still in Claude’s arms with an amused smile on her face.

“Your job for tonight, my love…” He began to say as he approached the pair, sneaking his free hand onto her hip and pulling her towards him. “...is to relax and enjoy yourself while we take care of you. With that said, it’s a bit unfair that I’m now wearing nothing and you’re both still fully clothed.”

“So, what do you plan to do about that, my prince?” Kiran wondered aloud.

It was then that the two men guided her towards the rose petal decorated mattress, having her sit at the edge while Alfonse knelt in front of her and Claude sat down beside her. The sight of the Askran prince on his knees in front of her, hands resting on her thighs was one that Kiran was rather familiar with by now, but it was one that she continuously adored. He also loved watching her admire him, the image being something he could never get enough of. He leaned in toward her ankle, slowly peppering kisses up her leg as she softly giggled at how it felt. She turned to look at the Alliance leader next to her, watching as he unbuttoned his own shirt. The clothing already exposed part of his chest, which had always piqued the summoner’s curiosity, and she was drawn to him even more when it came off and was dropped at the foot of the bed.

The brunette woman lifted her hand to touch Claude’s chest. Not only did he have an impressive amount of muscle to him, but there was also some hair on his body that she felt emphasized his good looks. He gently grabbed on to her wrist, guiding her hand down towards his toned abdomen. He could tell how intrigued she was, which filled him with pride. Alfonse brought her attention back to him as he fiddled with the hem of her top, his fingers brushing against her skin as he lifted it up enough to expose her soft stomach and pressed his lips against it. She hummed at the feeling of his breath on her, stroking the back of his head with her thumb. He pushed the fabric slightly further up her body, prompting her to lift her arms as Claude grabbed onto it and pulled it off entirely, tossing it behind him.

A deep purple, lacy bra was revealed to be worn underneath, holding up her full, supple breasts and showing them off beautifully. The blue haired prince made quick work of her shorts, pulling them down her legs and admiring the pair of panties she wore to match her bra.

“Someone has certainly dressed for the occasion.” Claude whispered, tugging one of the straps down her shoulder and latching his lips onto the crook of her neck.

“I did it for Alfonse, but it’s nice that you’re here to see it too.” Kiran responded, a hint of seduction in her voice as she winked at him. She moved to press a soft kiss to his forehead, running a hand through his hair to encourage him as he subtly licked and bit at her skin.

Alfonse soon stood from the ground, leaning into the other side of her neck and began kissing her there as well. He slipped a hand in between her legs, taking in the sweet sound of her moans as his palm grazed over her hot entrance, smirking at the damp spot on her underwear. He continued to rub her there, listening to the desperate cries of pleasure falling from her lips and taking pride in the fact that he had a part in it.

“Claude, feel how wet she is.” He instructed the other man, moving his hand so it rested on her inner thigh.

“Don’t mind if I do, prince.” The Alliance leader replied, slowly trailing a hand down her body. She felt a jolt of arousal course through her as he slipped two fingers under the fabric and gently stroked her slick folds. “Ah, you are definitely soaked down here, Kiran. You might not even need foreplay.”

“Ohhhhh, but I want it…” The summoner quickly begged. “Please…?”

“You heard her, Claude. Now, who would we be to deny my amazing girlfriend of her desires on her birthday…?” Alfonse interjected.

“Hey, I never said she couldn’t have it.” The dark haired man laughed. “Of course you can have whatever you want from us tonight, summoner.”

He then pulled his fingers from her, a proud smirk on his face at the sight of them being covered with her juices. Bringing them close to his mouth, both she and Alfonse watched as he licked them clean. The look in his emerald green eyes captivated them both, and they knew that he could tell. Upon finishing cleaning off his digits, he slid his hand so it held Kiran’s, his chin resting on her shoulder as his breath tickled her ear.

“You taste amazing, by the way.” He whispered, making her quiver with anticipation.

The Askran on her other side snuck his hand so it rested on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him and briefly kissing her once more. She held onto his wrist as their lips touched, smiling as he pulled away and kissed her cheek. Claude also peppered kisses along her shoulders and massaged her back, listening to her hum in satisfaction with the two men. His hands slid up to her bra clasp as he tantalizingly undid each hook, his palm rubbing into the skin exposed with it once he finished. Alfonse grabbed onto the straps and pulled the article of clothing off of her, dropping it to the floor and admiring the sight before him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful you are.” He quietly gushed.

“You always say that when you see my boobs.” She teased, giggling in appreciation nevertheless.

“Well, you can’t really blame him.” Claude chimed in, holding one of her breasts in his hand. “Askr and the Order of Heroes have truly been blessed with how captivating you are.”

“Is that so?” Kiran wondered aloud, leaning against the man next to her while cupping the face of the one in front of her, pulling him closer to her. “In that case, show me how blessed you guys feel to be here with me.”

Oh, show her they would. The prince continued where he left off with kissing her, nipping at her jaw and working his way down her body. She moaned deeply when his hot tongue drew circles around one of her taut nipples, eventually closing his lips around the pink bud and sucking on it. His breath tickled her stomach as he resumed making his way down. He stopped at her violet undergarments, gazing up at her tenderly as he hooked his fingers under the fabric. She ran a hand through his soft, blue locks, returning his loving stare and lifting her hips to encourage him. That was all he needed to pull the clothing from her waist, sliding them down her soft legs and allowing her to kick them off when they reached her ankles.

“Claude said you tasted amazing.” He spoke, echoing the other man’s words from moments ago as he pushed her legs open, getting the perfect view of her glistening center. “I think I’d like to see for myself.”

“Shouldn’t you already know with how long we—“

Her comments were immediately cut off as she gasped from the wave of pleasure that coursed through her body. His hot tongue lapping over her sensitive core was already making her tremble from the ecstasy as she tugged at his strands. Her deep arousal was pushed even further by Claude squeezing and caressing her soft mounds, teasing one of her nipples with a pinch.

The summoner’s hand found its way onto the dark haired man’s thigh, and she quickly noticed that at some point, he had removed the rest of his clothing. He smiled deviously as he guided her hand over to his erect length.

“I think I deserve a little treat as well.” He murmured enticingly into her ear. “After all, it’ll be my birthday pretty soon.”

Kiran wasted no time, wrapping her fingers around the shaft and slowly sliding it up to his tip, gathering the precum that leaked from it and working her hand back down to the base of his thick cock. She found that it was a bit shorter than Alfonse’s, but also wider, and the heat on her cheeks intensified at the thought of how he would feel inside of her. She wondered if she would have an answer for that tonight, or if the men would be interested in doing something like this again another time and she would find out then. Her thoughts were soon cut off by an electrifying jolt coursing through her as Claude circled a thumb over her rosy peak, the motion making her shiver with delight.

She looked down at Alfonse as he continued to lick at her dripping entrance like it was the most divine thing he could have. His sapphire blue eyes gazed up at her, and seeing her disheveled hair and eyes glazed over from her arousal served as motivation for him. He worked his tongue over her folds quicker, even slipping the wet muscle in between them a few times and taking pride in the way her voice grew and her walls pulsed against him. He choked out a few moans of his own as he wrapped a hand around his swelling member and began to stroke himself again, the vibrations from his mouth driving Kiran mad with desire.

“K… keep that up and I’ll… soon…” She breathlessly stammered.

With that in mind, the prince saw no reason to slow down anytime soon. His mouth made its way up towards her now throbbing clit, teasing the nub by drawing circles over it with his tongue. She was certain her lip was going to bleed with how hard she was biting it as she buried her face in the crook of Claude’s neck. Her shivers were growing more uncontrollable, and an overwhelming tension began building in her veins. When she felt Alfonse sucking on her clit, she could no longer hold back as she cried out from the blissful electricity that erupted within her. She felt herself get lost in the pleasure as she pulled on his strands, shaking before him from her climax.

As Kiran began to come down from her high, she leaned against the Fodlanian man beside her in an attempt to steady herself. He let out a low chuckle at her disheveled state, lightly kissing her forehead and glancing back at Alfonse, who seemed to be proud of himself, and rightfully so.

“You know… it doesn’t have to end here if you don’t want it to.” Claude spoke, resting a hand on her thigh.

“Mmm… I’d love to keep going…” Kiran murmured in response. “But I’ll need a quick breather first, if that’s all right.”

“Of course, love.” Alfonse assured her, standing from his spot in front of her.

The summoner took this time to adjust herself and lie back on the plush mattress beneath her, sighing contently at its softness. She turned her head to look over at her boyfriend, who had made his way over to the table beside the door to pour her a glass of water. Truly, it seemed he had gone all out for this night and prepared for anything, and she both loved him even more for that and was amused by it. When he came back over and handed her the glass, that first sip quenched her in ways she didn’t even realize she needed. As she continued to enjoy the beverage, she glanced back and forth at the two men, confused as to why they were just sitting and watching her.

“You know you guys are allowed to do stuff with each other while you’re waiting on me, right?” She told them, laughing when they took their eyes off her and looked at each other.

“Y—yes, of course!” Alfonse stammered. “Is that, er… is that something you would want, Clau—“

He was quickly cut off by the green eyed man gently pushing him down onto the bed, giving him a quick wink as he climbed on top of him and pressed his lips against his jaw. Claude soon wrapped a hand around the prince’s hot, erect length, working it up and down and sending shivers through him as he teased a nipple with his other hand.

“I, ah… I guess that answers my question.” He chuckled.

“I know we planned this for Kiran, but I’ll admit, you’re not so bad yourself.” The Almyran replied flirtatiously, lifting his head up and gazing into the other man’s deep blue eyes.

The summoner watched the scene in front of her intently, both her cheeks and her core warming up at the pair’s sensual embrace. With how attracted she was to the both of them, she was certainly happy that they shared these feelings not just for her, but also for each other. Instead of trying to one up one another, they helped each other, and it was perfect for all of them. She carefully put her glass down on the floor, not wanting to take her eyes off of them.

Claude soon pulled the prince in for a slow and sultry kiss, stroking the tip of his length and drinking in the moan that Alfonse let out in response. The sound of her prince enjoying himself like this aroused Kiran deeply, and the evidence was beginning to pool in between her legs. She gently caressed her thigh as the sight continued to intrigue her. Both men seemed well aware of what they were doing to her, and as eager as they were to have her rejoin them, they were also enjoying each other’s company quite a bit. The pair came to a non vocal understanding that having her watch them a little longer would help her in being ready for them again. She certainly wasn’t in any hurry.

Eventually, Alfonse felt the dark haired man tighten the grip he had on his cock and jerk him quicker, his voice growing louder in ecstasy. Kiran’s now soaked core began to ache intensely when she heard how desperate he sounded, which made her desperate for some kind of stimulation as well. She hastily parted her legs and slid her hand up towards her hot opening, moaning as the tips of her fingers brushed against her wet folds and swollen nub. She lifted her hips in sync with her hand, small jolts of pleasure surging through her as she kept her eyes on the two men before her.

Soon enough, Claude stopped what he was doing.

“W—wait,” The summoner choked out. “Keep going.”

“And have you miss out? Not a chance.” He replied, winking at her as he shifted his body closer to hers. “Think you’re ready for something more than a pair of fingers?”

Her cheeks grew even hotter at those remarks. She knew precisely what he meant by that, and if she didn’t, the way he hovered over her, his firm length sitting comfortably in his hand, was obvious enough. She opened her legs more at his invitation, smirking up at him.

“Come over here and find out.” She answered, a hint of seduction in her voice.

She was promptly flipped onto her stomach by the Almyran man as she yelped in surprise. She lifted her hips up for him, using her knees to balance herself as she turned her head to look at him. The anticipation made her ache and crave him even more, and he could tell that she was growing restless waiting for him. His hands grabbed her hips to hold them in place, smirking in amusement at the sound she let out just from his tip brushing against her.

As he carefully slid into her, he bit his lip at how warm and tight she was around him. The way her walls twitched against him sent rapturous shivers through his veins, and her moans growing louder ensured that she was enjoying this as well. He did stretch her quite a bit, but with how wet she had already made herself, she wasn’t in any pain. Slowly, he began thrusting in and out of her, letting out small grunts with each movement. He loved how gorgeous she looked before him; how her long, dark locks cascaded over her shoulders; how her naked body still glistened from her first climax.

“Mm… you feel so good…” The summoner hummed.

“The feeling is mutual.” Claude responded, winking at her. “You’re nice to look at, too. Alfonse is truly a lucky man.”

“Speaking of…” She spoke, holding her hand out for the prince in front of her. “Come here, babe. I don’t want you to feel left out.”

Alfonse shifted his body so he was closer to the pair, lying beneath them and lifting a hand to rest on his girlfriend’s jaw as he caressed her cheek. She held onto his wrist to keep his hand in place as she moved to capture his mouth with hers, gently yet hungrily pulling him in. He never tired of her lips on his own, and she loved how tender he was when touching her. Claude had mentioned the prince being a lucky man, but in truth, Kiran considered herself the luckiest woman to have someone love her like this.

The summoner laid her free hand on his side, her thumb stroking his hip and further enticing him as he groaned from the aching in his cock intensifying. Kiran was quick to solve this issue, sliding her hand down as it curled around the shaft and began jerking him, relief washing over the prince at her motions. She briefly pulled her lips from his to study him. His hair was now a mess, and yet it was in a way that made him even more alluring. His skin was decorated with a pink tint as his body grew hotter from arousal. She could see his muscles contracting with each pump, and god did it make her wet.

“Mmm… you are so sexy…” she murmured to Alfonse. “You know that, right?”

“Aah… it’s… it’s still nice to hear you say it.” He breathlessly responded.

His hands wandered over her body without much thought, eventually settling on her soft breasts. He gave them a gentle squeeze, leaning in between them and pressing a kiss to one. A small gasp of pleasure slipped from her mouth as he ran his thumbs over her nipples, feeling them swell at his unrelenting touch. Claude’s thrusts had also picked up in speed, leaving the summoner a euphoric mess between the two men.

“Ha… I’m getting pretty… pretty close…” the dark haired man behind her confessed. Which is why she was baffled when he pulled out of her entirely, looking back at him with furrowed brows. “Switch with me, Alfonse. I want to try something.”

The prince soon stopped what he was doing, guiding Kiran to lie on her back as he held her legs in place. He waited to see what Claude had in mind before going any further, watching as he sat on her stomach, slowly lowering himself so he wouldn’t cause her any discomfort. As the Alliance leader’s thick erection rested on her chest, Kiran quickly realized what he had in mind as she looked up at him with a knowing smirk.

Pushing her ample breasts together, she watched as he began thrusting in between them. His hands clutched onto the bedpost in front of him as his emerald green eyes looked down at her, deep into her brown ones. With how he shivered and panted before her, she could tell he was steadily inching closer towards his peak. She could feel her own brewing as she gasped from Alfonse slipping his throbbing length inside her. He couldn’t see her face with Claude sitting in front of him, but he could tell from the desperate sounds she made that she loved what he was doing.

Come to think of it, the Almyran’s rugged back and shoulders were a rather intriguing sight to the prince. As he slowly moved in and out of Kiran, he found himself leaning into the crook of Claude’s neck, peppering small kisses along the area. Hearing him moan so hungrily served as all the motivation Alfonse needed as he continued, biting and tonguing at his shoulder.

“Aah… s.. so… close…” the couple heard the man in between them choke. “Think th… this might…”

Claude found himself unable to finish his sentence as he felt himself lose control over his body. Letting out a loud cry of pleasure, he gave one last thrust as his swollen member erupted in between Kiran’s soft mounds. His muscles burned with overwhelming ecstasy as he gripped the bedpost tighter and hot cum shot out and onto her chest. The summoner watched with both pride and amusement as he was left breathless before her.

“Doing okay there, buddy?” She asked.

“Never better.” He replied with a smile upon regaining his composure, moving off of her and lying down beside her, resting a hand on her arm and looking up at the blue haired prince before them. “Take it away, Alfonse.”

With that, Alfonse quickly leaned down, pressing his flushed body against the summoner’s. This newfound closeness between them allowed him to push himself deeper inside of her, his rigid cock brushing against all the right spots along her now throbbing core. Her voice grew more high pitched as more ecstasy washed over her, coming closer to swallowing her whole. An overwhelming sense of pride took over in the prince’s mind as he listened to the sweet sound of his girlfriend responding so positively to what she deserved. He took her hand in his own, their fingers lacing together as he pinned her arm over her head, gazing into her beautiful brown eyes as their foreheads pressed together.

“Gods above, I love you so much…” He panted.

“I love you too…” She responded with a warm smile. “...my prince.”

Those words would be the death of him. His firm member grew hotter as it began to fill with his cum, but he was determined to have her finish first. His hips snapped harder against hers, his free hand diving straight between their bodies until his thumb settled on her swollen clit. He stroked the nub with a fierceness unlike anything he felt in previous private moments he shared with her. However, she seemed to enjoy it, if how she clung to him as her nails dug into his back was anything to go by.

Kiran found herself quickly beginning to tremble beneath him, the intense fire coursing through her body was growing more hot, and she knew she was getting closer. She tried her best to match Alfonse’s pace, wrapping her legs around him and lifting her hips with each thrust, craving that sweet release. With one well timed thrust, her wishes were granted. A loud moan snuck past her lips as she shook, her body feeling as though it would burst from the pleasure that washed over her and consumed every part of her. She tightened her already firm grip on the prince, wanting to truly take in this euphoric feeling flowing through her.

Her overwhelming climax proved to be enough to send Alfonse over the edge as well. He choked out a cry of elation as he slid out of her, his muscles burning from the intensity of his orgasm and his firm length twitching as thick, hot ropes of white spilled out and onto Kiran’s stomach. He soon fell limp on top of her, his head resting on her shoulder and breath tickling her chest. He soon felt her soft lips kissing his forehead, smiling at how sweet and tender such a small action could be.

“Nice work, you two.” The couple heard Claude tell them, jumping at the sound of his voice beside them. “Aw, don’t tell me you forgot I was here!” He laughed.

“Psh, of course not.” Kiran replied. “Just didn’t realize you were watching.”

“Well, it’d be a little hard to prepare for next time if I wasn’t.” He winked at the two.

A promise of more to come in the future, huh? The thought was certainly nice, albeit surprising that he would bring it up. The summoner found herself wondering what it would be like; how the three of them could explore each other even further.

“That is, if you guys want there to be a next time.”

“I think something could be arranged when my birthday approaches.” Alfonse told him, moving off of the bed. “It is only a little over a month away. But we can discuss it when the day is closer. Would you mind helping me clean her off, Claude?”

The dark haired man nodded in response, standing up and following the Askran over to a basin filled with warm water. The two men soon returned, each with a washcloth in hand. Both gently slid the towels over Kiran’s body, wiping the areas where they came on her. She found it rather soothing as she felt herself sinking into the mattress with how relaxed she was. The two cleaned themselves off a bit as well, then rejoined her on the bed, resting on either side of her and holding her close.

“Happy birthday, my love.” Alfonse spoke first, following his words with a quick but sweet kiss.

“Happy birthday, summoner.” Claude repeated, pressing his smooth lips to her cheek.

“And a happy early birthday to you, Claude.” The prince turned his attention towards the other man, kissing one cheek while Kiran kissed the other.

“Happy almost birthday, Claude!” The brunette woman smiled. “And thank you both for your wonderful gift. Best birthday ever.” She declared.

A comfortable silence soon fell over the trio as they embraced each other, followed by a well deserved slumber for all of them. It was going to be difficult for any of them to get out of the bed once morning approached, but that made it all the more delightful and amazing.

#writing #fire emblem #fire emblem heroes #alfonse #kiran #claude von riegan #kiralfonse #My Summoner #bouqfonse #claudefonse? bouclaude?#bouclaudefonse?#nsfvv #lemon #cw alcohol #alcohol cw

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indianamoonshine · 4 years

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solo’s copilot ♡︎ chapter two / “all women should”

summary: “Then you realize...it's because he's starved. Starved of affection himself. Of adoration. Of touch. He'd been Kylo Ren for years, dwelling in solitude with no one to hold him, no one to make love to, no one to cry for. You realize then that he craved closeness and he wanted it with you."

rating: M for suggestive content

AN: hi friends! it's me - mikaela - your local ben simp. i should be working on my screenplay, but i can't get this story out of my head. i actually had a lot of fun writing this chapter! the thing that tasha did to reader - you know the one. the vagina thing? yeah. i actually had a friend do this to me irl.

Tasha's nails clink impatiently against her glass of mither. She's been itching to say it for the past hour - you know she has.

"So..." she begins ominously. You prepare for her greatest performance. What were best friends for? "Big night for Ben, huh?"

The two of you stand at the bar of The Water Hole, a local cantina, and watch as Ben (along with some other Resistance fighters) aggressively chug their ales. He looks wild and, truthfully, on his way to being fried. You can't help but laugh when he spills on himself, brow arching in confusion, and then grumbling when he sees the mess he's made. He pretends like no one saw, but you did; you always see him. The way that particular strand of his hair dangles over his forehead had you biting your lip as he laughed, completely unaware of how fucking hot he was. Sometimes you hated him for that.

You turn to Tasha, pretending not to catch onto what she's implying, but she's grinning wickedly at you.

"Yep," you say half-heartedly, continuing to observe the room.

It's dim, but bright enough so that you're able to distinguish faces from one another. Lance, a blonde man with an unfortunate amount of sweat stains, converses animatedly with Ben. Then there's Bella, a witty and stunningly beautiful woman with emerald hair who cozies up with her boyfriend. You didn't recognize all the faces here. Some of them were bounty hunters or smugglers passing through, but the ones you did know where notorious party animals. You had a feeling you'd be nursing a hangover in the morning.

Tasha swirls her drink with a slender finger. "Could be a big night for you, too."

Bingo. Took her long enough.

Still, you pretend it takes you off guard, and pretend to choke on your drink. "What?"

Your friend rolls her eyes. She means well, just as she always has, ever since the two of you were toddlers. Growing up with her should've made more of a rebellious impact on you but it didn't. Not to say you didn't enjoy drinking and being with friends - you did, just not every night like Tasha. And that was fine; she was good at it. Sometimes you wished you were as talented as socializing as she was; you might be predisposed to make the kind of money she did. Tasha, in addition to being a Resistance fighter, was also the center of many wealthy men and women's lives.

"Ah, don't play coy." She slaps you in jest, but her strength causes a sting.

You stick out your tongue like a child eating something sour. "Boys have cooties," you joke. You know very well Ben did not have cooties.

Tasha rolls her eyes and smirks, holding the straw to her mouth before continuing. "Even a blushing virgin knows what success does to a man." She takes a long sip while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. "It builds their ego..."

She takes a look at Ben from across the room. You do too. And despite how much Tasha adores you - how willing she would be to step in front of a blaster for you - she can't help but drink in the sight of the scoundrel who so handsomely laughs with friends. He's warm. He's kind.

He is absolutely perfect in every way. You don't blame her for the lust.

"Though, I don't think he needs much help with that." Her eyes fall lower and she does obviously enough so that you see where she's looking.

Tasha tears her eyes from Ben's - unquestionably - well endowed bulge. "You sure you can handle that?" she asks you with a wink.

You weren't the jealous type. Really. But everyone made their desire for him so loud; it was hard not to be jealous in some way or another. All the women (and men) on base who were gorgeous, intelligent, and very single were surely competent enough to take him from you.

But he hadn't left. Not in the five months you've been seeing one another; it's what you kept you from clawing peoples' eyes out.

"You're insatiable," you tell her. "Now you want him too?"

Tasha gives you an incredulous and pointed look. "You know I love you...but you also know that everyone on base wants him." She scoffs. "Don't pretend like you don't know that. You're so goddamned lucky."

You take a quiet slurp of your drink, eyes locked onto the way he concentrates to what Lance is saying. His eyebrows furrow and he nods, sucking the inside of his cheek and it makes his jawline more prominent. You feel a heat bloom in your body and know how lucky you are. For fuck's sake, you still can't believe it.

"He could be bad at it," you say then, though you know the idea is ridiculous.

Tasha shakes her head and light bounces off her pretty, blonde pin curls. "I wouldn't count on it. He has a reputation...just like his dad..." she says dreamily, as though she knew Han Solo personally.

There's a silence between the two of you before she says, "Are you prepared?" like she already knows the answer.

You shrug. "Can you ever be prepared for something like this?"

Tasha looks at you like you're not serious. Maybe she was expecting another answer.

"For sex?" Yes," she says simply. "God, you're the mature one, too."

"I have an implant if that's what you're wondering." You lift up your forearm to the light and see the outline of a very small, very faint chip embedded beneath your skin. It wasn't required in the Resistance - not anymore. But once you and Ben started dating, the idea of an accident seemed more plausible than what you'd like to imagine.

She looks thoughtfully at a space above your head. "Okay, yes, that's very important. But have you shaved?"

There's a pang of fear that lights up your abdomen. Shit.

"I didn't exactly plan on this happening tonight!" you argue under your breath.

She doesn't take a breath. "What are you wearing?" Damn woman, cut me some slack, you think.

You blink a few times, trying to process her question, and crinkle your nose when you come up short. "Is that a trick question?"

Your dear friend looks exasperated and maybe even a little disappointed. After all these years of confiding in you about her various sexual endeavors, you surely could've picked up on the basics. Weren't you listening when she told you about the crotch-less underwear she wore for Mike in transmissions? Did you forget about the time she showered before a hook-up, swiped a finger in her vagina, and held it to your nose before asking, "Be honest...do I smell?" (No. You hadn't forgotten that - as much as you wanted to - but for the record: she didn't.)

"You don't have any lingerie?" she asks, dumbfounded.

"Why would I have lingerie?" you whisper heatedly and a little too quickly.

A man with a false eye turns his neck to glance at you, perplexed by the dialogue, but intrigued nonetheless. You glare at him and scoot farther away.

"Maybe because you're in a relationship with possibly the sexiest man in the galaxy, that's why!" she responds, throwing her free hand in the air for dramatics - she was always very good at that.

Tasha rubs her right temple as you cross your arms in defense, waiting for her to say something else. And then she does. An idea pops into her head, a lightbulb practically manifesting to gleam over her.

"T-shirt," she decides.

"Huh?"

"Holy fuck, are you this naive?" she asks, but she's hiding laughter. "Men go nuts when we do that. They like knowing we're smaller than them..." she cocks an eyebrow in amusement. "Though, that's never really been the case for me."

Tasha is tall. Six feet and two inches tall. You try to imagine her drowning in a man's shirt but couldn't possibly conjure up someone big enough to give her something to disappear in. Chewbacca, maybe.

You try to shake the thought away, to imagine one of Ben's plain tees hanging just below your shaking knees. How you could possibly work with that solely because you knew how much bigger he was than you. Throw on a little lip gloss, maybe. Mascara? Blush? No. No blush; he'll be getting you red enough.

Oh. The thought makes you clench.

But what if he preferred a woman who was natural? You wore makeup in front of him when he took you on your first date, honestly just for an excuse to dress in something other than your uniform. But because of the way his pupils expanded when he saw you, you decided to dress up more often. Did it matter? If he was worth it, he'd like you any way. And you knew Ben was worth it. Still, all these questions and all these rules for sex were overwhelming for someone who hadn't even given a blow-job. You take another drink of your liquid courage as your head spins with possibilities. They were endless.

Tasha watches with an enigmatic smile as you fix your hair to frame it the way Ben likes. "Okay," you say, but you're really only talking to yourself. "I'm going in."

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

A wide smile forms on Ben's face when you arrive at the table.

You're shaking, but doing your best to hide it, hoping that the façade of alcohol might camouflage your trembling fingers. Ben reaches his arms out to you and you accept his invitation to sit snuggly on his lap. You fit in it perfectly, especially when your head leans back against the curvature of his shoulder. He caresses your arm and you notice how his fingers trace over the indentation of your birth control. For some reason, that triggers a primal instinct, and you press your face into his neck.

"Did you get anything to drink?" Ben asks, lifting your chin with his index finger.

You nod, eyes sparkling when they meet his. You can feel the nervousness slowly dissolve in your body, but it could be because of the alcohol inoculating through your veins. "I did, thank you."

"Why didn't you let me pay for it? I would've." He kisses your cheek softly and then the other. "How many have you had?"

You shrug. "Just one." You lean into his touch, relishing in the electricity that burns your insides. It feels so good. "Nothing I can't handle."

He smirks, but behind it there's something you can't quite put your finger on. It's wicked, but tempting. Licentious, but adoring. It makes you blush, especially by the way he so openly touches your face with such softness. You never expected Ben to be so unstirred by potential reactions from others. Who knew Ben was so into public displays of affection?

Then you realize...it's because he's starved. Starved of affection himself. Of adoration. Of touch. He'd been Kylo Ren for years, dwelling in solitude with no one to hold him, no one to make love to, no one to cry for. You realize then that he craved closeness and he wanted it with you.

For fuck's sake, it's bringing tears to your eyes. You try to stop them by burying your face in his collarbone again but it doesn't work. His beating heart, his breathing, his warmth makes you even more emotional. You want to wrap yourself around him until the two of you become one - until you can pass on whatever it was that he needed from your own spirit. Whatever he needed, he'd get from you.

Gods...did you...did you love him?

No. No, it's too early, you tell yourself. You can't love him. It could end just as easily as it began, even if he did love you back. Something would eventually happen - he could die, you could die, the spark could burn out after the honeymoon phase ended. This is what you've convinced yourself, not only with Ben, but with other men too. And they always did end up leaving, even if you begged them to stay.

"You okay, baby?" he mumbles in your hair.

His voice brings you back to life. He'd never called you baby before. You're surprised to find how much you like it.

You lift your head and watch as his irises seem to turn another shade of mahogany. "Yep," you smile, running your fingers through his hair. You begin to slowly run your fingers across his scalp as though to mend a wound that wasn't there. Not in the bone, anyway. His conscious; you'd try to mend his psyche, and maybe it was an unintentional move from your own subconscious. But you allowed it.

Ben hums from your gentle touch, forgetting about the drink in his hand. He sets it down and leans back against the booth, eyes shut, and smiling as you play with his locks, twirling them around your fingers. You admire the way it shines in the dim lighting - he took care of himself well. That means he could take care of you, too. The idea makes you shiver in his arms.

The group of friends talk with one another in loud, jubilant conversation. When Ben doesn't say anything after some time, Lance pipes up.

"How you doin' over there, Solo?" He's chuckling by the way Ben's loosened his limps while savoring your embrace.

It must be a sight to see. Ben's almost slumped over in his seat with only a couple of drinks in his system as a girl half his size twiddles with his hair. Solo didn't relax much - he was always on the move, so to see him in this state was probably more reliving than humorous.

Ben just lifts a hand, eyes still closed, enjoying your fingers as they dance around his face. You count the small moles on his skin his under your breath and trace the slope of his nose. Eck. What had you become? PDA hadn't ever tickled your fancy before, so why are you all of a sudden so fuckin' cringeworthy?

Then you realize you didn't care. Ben Solo was practically purring against you as you squirmed in his lap. And you knew by the way he snaps open his eyes, some kind of fire raging behind them, and grabs ahold of your hips:

That he.

Was going.

To fuckin'.

Wreck you.

You'd let him. And he knows that too by the way you squeal when he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. He gives you a light swat on your butt as he stands and you burst into laughter, not giving a single shit about who thinks what anymore.

"Alright, Petals. I think it's time to go now," he announces and bobs you back into place against him.

Lance lets out a whistle that implies what everyone was thinking. "Have fun, you two!" he shouts from across the cantina.

And as you hoot with laughter - the kind of laughter you know is genuine - you spot Tasha at the bar. She holds up her drink and nods her head as though to say:

"As all women should."

#ben solo x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #mw1 #ben solo headcanons #kylo ren headcanons

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nostalgicnocturnal · 3 years

Text

Glitter on Pavements

"Okay, class. The presentation of your radio play will be next meeting, so prepare everything and do your best. Class dismissed."

With a sharp knock of heels on the cement floor, their English teacher with paper-white skin left the room. The students now began to huddle with their group mates. Everyone was either excited or anxious about the radio play "Sorry, Wrong Number" set during the 1940s. The story circled around a lady who calls the operator countless times to talk about overhearing a conversation of two men plotting to kill someone, only to find out she was the one to be killed. It was a unique genre and challenging to perform by a bunch of 14 to 15-year-olds.

Among all these small groups of angsty teenagers, there is one group consisting of all boys with one girl taking the lead; like a mother bird with her bouncing boys.

"I had prepared the sound effects we could use for our final rehearsal today. Do you guys have a speaker we can borrow?", she asked.

"Yeah, I already thought of that, you told me last time. So I brought my speaker with me," said the boy with thick nerdy glasses.

"By the way, no one's gonna be home today so if you guys want to, we can practice the script once more in our house. It's quiet there so we can test the sound effects to fit the story," the boy with the eyes that resemble an owl suggested.

There is some worry on the back of the girl's mind; to be left alone in a house with these boys, thinking if she'll be a hundred percent safe. But she has at least seventy percent of trust, for they are young and intelligent well-mannered lads. They belong to what others see as an "elite class", some call a "special class", "cream of the crop"; but it's just a plain science section with all other difficult subjects included.

"Alright, let's go! I've been wanting to come to your house anyway," blurted the boy with spiky hair.

And so they set forth, walked from school to their classmate's house. It was not big, but had enough space for them. All these boys were now excited to talk to each other about things unrelated to their agenda. Since men can be comfortable anywhere, they began unbuttoning their white polos while complaining of the heat, showing their sloppy shoulders; she only managed to take off her shoes. As she began to be left out of this men's conversation, she started to look around. There were family portraits hung on the wall, medals, certificates, recognition day photos, and a graduation photo of a young girl in her toga.

"Who is she?" she asked as her voice darted the sound of chatting and laughter behind her.

"She's my older sister," the boy with owl-like eyes responded.

"But... how come you don't... look alike?" she said slowly to avoid unnecessary judgment in her tone. It is undeniable that they don't resemble those round eyes most of their family members have.

"Well... she is adopted." he answered back with a low tone.

"But... she is older than you, right? How come?" she asked again as curiosity hit her innocent mind.

"It's a long story," he uttered with a sigh.

She thought "I don't mind listening to a long story" but remembered it must have been a personal family thing to share and it would be rude to insist on asking.

"We should begin practicing now, I don't want to come home late. My father will scold me for good!" another boy with pale complexion and looking rather skinny insisted.

And so they begin the rehearsal. They all read their lines, accompanied it with some sound effects, practiced proper timing, and made improvements of projecting their voice as if on a radio show. Time flew and the golden ray of sunset hit their faces from the open windows, but they were so immersed in practicing that they don't mind if the place is getting a little darker. After serious discussions to ace their performance, it was 8PM, and they were satisfied with themselves.

"Oh no, I better go home, my father's going to kill me!" the skinny guy shrieked.

"It's dark out. I should walk you home," offered the spiky haired guy to the leader of the group and the only girl in the room.

"I think I'm okay. It's not that far from here anyway," she asserted.

"No, you should take her home. And take me with you, my house is along the way. My father has to see someone so that he believes I am doing school work and not messing around," said the pale skinny guy again. His parents must have been strict and worried because he is either sickly or has been up to no good lately.

"Alright, I'll talk to your father and I'll take her home too. That way I know you both are safe," assured the spiky haired guy.

And so the three of them walked the dark streets, with only the distant street lights and flashes of headlights from vehicles helped them see the way clearer. They chatted, laughed, and plotted what excuses they might say to his father so that they won't be scolded for staying out late.

Finally, they came to his house. They were about to knock when his father just opened the door. The three of them were shocked and stood like totem poles.

"G-good evening, Mr.-"

"Ah, here you are. Are these your classmates?"

"Yes, Pa. We had to finish our final rehearsal for the radio play and it ended late,"

"That's okay. Come in, you two. Have some dinner with us!"

"We're fine, sir. There is no need to-"

"Aye, come in. Let me offer you a drink at least."

"O-okay. T-thank you."

And so they went in. The skinny guy's father bought cola for them and offered them some food. He was all smiley and accommodating, he does not look scary or strict at all. She wondered if once they left the house, he might just quit his showing off and spank his son.

"It's getting late, we better go home, sir.”

“Oh, wow look at the time! Go ahead now, your parents must be worried.”

“Thank you for the food.”

The moment they were out of the door, their extremely forced smiles wear out and let out a sigh of relief.

“Woah, I didn’t know his father would be like that,” remarked the guy with glossy, spiky hair.

“I know, right? I thought he would scold us or something. But I think I’d rather receive some scolding than that sort of treatment,” she added.

Their quiet giggles echoed in the empty streets. Every step they took blended with the sound of pebbles brushing the concrete and simultaneous barks as there were more dogs than people out on this chilly night. The glitter on pavements shone even more as their soles made contact with the ground. Finally, the silence broke as they approached a busy sari-sari store.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to treat you. I don’t have much but just tell me what snack you want, I’ll pay for it,” he bragged a bit.

“Really? Is that okay with you?” she shyly asked.

“Sure! Just pick anything, I gotcha,” he said with a slight grin.

Since she was young and feeling tired as of the moment, she agreed. She picked the biggest bag of chips she could see from the screen windows of the store. She gave a smirk at him, waiting what kind of response he would give, if he would take back what he said. Instead, he smiled back warmly.

"Let's eat this while walking, shall we?"

"Sure," she agreed.

Their way home seemed too long, it would have been awkward if it weren't for the crunching sound of chips in between their silences. Yet every munch seems inappropriate to the current situation.

"What is your type of guy?" he asked out of the blue.

"A gentleman, that's all," she answered back.

He nodded a couple of times and smiled to himself. He thought he must be doing a great job at being a gentleman; treating a girl with food they like, being by her side, walking her home, all seemed like a gentleman's moves.

"Ah, also, I like guys who are smarter than me. I am tired of being the smart one, you know. I want someone who would make smart decisions for the both of us," she added.

His smile faded a bit. He knows he is not that brainy, nor smarter than her. He thought he took a step closer to her, but she is still a distant star that is impossible for him to reach. His steps were washed out by the wave of reality before he could even take another.

"There it is! That's where I live, by that red gate," she exclaimed.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow at class then. I know we'll nail that performance, all thanks to you. You are a great team leader indeed," he said.

"Nah, that's nothing. I wouldn't be able to make the team move if you guys weren't initiating and cooperating."

"Thanks for walking me home. See you tomorrow," she added.

She entered the gate showered with crimson paint, then locked it up. Just like her heart that looks so enticing yet all walled up and locked tightly. He turned back and walked away.

At the back of the door, she smiled. No one had ever seen her the way his eyes looked, no one ever dared to protect her the way he did. She suddenly felt like a girl. Although a thought crossed her mind; is she the only one he would walk home with, or was he just kind enough to do this to other girls too?

#youth #feminism #short story

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guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom · 3 years

Text

Blessing in Disguise

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader

Warnings: Hospitals, Explosions, depictions of pain, allusions to mania and depression, self harm/unhealthy coping mechanisms, mentions of death and the dead, gambling, potential underage drinking, theft, guns, gun violence, depictions of bullet wounds, and drunk people.

Word Count: 3.4k

Songs: All the kids are depressed- Jeremy Zucker, Everywhere- Chloe x Halle, Middle Child- J. Cole, She Knows- J. Cole, Breezeblocks- alt-J, Pussycat Doll-Flo Milli, It’s Been So Long- The Living Tombstone, Take me to Church- Hozier, Good Kid- Kendrick Lamar, Death of a Bachelor- Panic! At the Disco, Them Changes- Thundercat, Detention- Melanie Martinez, Recess- Melanie Martinez, Something for your M.I.N.D- Superorganism

A/N: I actually hate this chapter because I feel like the writing doesn’t flow. I feel like it’s to jampacked with things that don’t do anything to push the story forward. Anyway I hope you still read it anyways.

Series Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

I did the hand sign stating I’d stand. I knew I won for sure this time because I had a perfect hand of 21. The two other people playing against groaned as I was declared the winner yet again.

Swiping the chips for the 3rd time since I’d been at the casino. I decided to take my wins and make my way to the bar that our “target” was residing.

I had a hunch on where Carmen was but had no actual idea. I’d just text her. In the meantime I had this grown ass man to make a move on.

I was like 97% sure I had the right guy anyway. I looked much older than usual tonight due to Carmen being a makeup goddess and I gotta say flirting can get you a long way.

“Hey,” I spoke, sitting on the bar stool next to the man.

He looked up at me mumbling a quick hey.

“You expecting someone?”

“Nope,” He popped the ‘p’ “What about you?”

“Same as you,”

“Now I don’t believe someone as beautiful as you is here alone,” He moved his arm that much closer to mine. I pushed out a smile and giggled.

“I could say the same about you,” We made eye contact for a second “But no seriously, I’m just here with a girlfriend. It was my birthday yesterday but she wasn’t free so we came out today,” I lied.

“How old did you turn?”

“Twenty Two,” He nodded seemingly content with the answer.

“So you’re not around here are you?”

“Either you’re a genius or I’m just very bad at blending in, no I’m from New York,”

“Ah, I have some friends in New York, which part?”

“Harlem actually but I recently moved to Queens,” I lied again.

“Oh I don’t many from those cities,”

“If we're being honest I don’t know many people from Queens either my life’s been more hectic ever since I moved,”

“I hear you,” He informed me, leaning on the small backing the stools had.

We talked for about 15 more minutes, him explaining the switch between New York to Nevada. Then Carmen walked up to me and feigned drunkenness signaling she was done with her job. I made my way back. To the man who’s name I still hadn’t learned.

“As much fun as I was having talking to you, my friend is way too drunk to be out in public so we should probably head back to the hotel.” I sat back on the barstool turning my legs towards the man batting my eyes

“Could I possibly use your phone to call an Uber mine is dead?”

“Yeah of course you can…” His sentence fizzed off at the end in place of where my name would be.

“Ciara,” I filled in “And you are?”

“Jim” He started handing me the phone.

I used his phone for an entirely different reason than I’d claimed. The project Carmen had been working on was melting the wires together to fix the flash drive that works inside of phones. It hadn’t worked in years.

It took about a minute to duplicate the phone's data. I stuck the flash drive in my bra before going to give the phone back.

Just as I started moving a loud argument broke out, by the drunk accents I could tell it would soon get violent. Seeing as I had many experiences with an aggressive drunk. I wasn’t going to take my chances and began turning towards the main exit.

I heard the first shot echo followed by another. Soon everyone was shooting. Including Carmen who I think just wanted an excuse to shoot at people passing it off as “protecting her friends”.

She was closer to the exit than I was so she slid me the gun and I was able to ward off anyone shooting in our general direction. Not for long though. A bullet lightly grazed my dominant arm’s shoulder; it still dug in enough to do some sweet damage.

Fuck

What’s up with me? I haven’t been on my A game lately.

We were also out of bullets. Mostly because we weren’t actually expecting to have to fucking shoot at people. I ducked back down behind the bar trying not to get caught on the broken glassware.

“I think it would be a good time to do that thing?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes

“You know I hate doing it,”

“Well I’m literally bleeding out,” I dramatized pointing to my shoulder. “So if you want to get out of here not in body bags, do the thing,”

“Alright, just this one time,” She begrudgingly made her way out from behind the bar and away from me.

I covered my ears and closed my eyes as the glass around me rained down and the bar shook. I could slightly hear the cries from beneath my hands. Once she moved back over to me

“See that wasn’t so bad, birdy,” I scrambled up to my feet ignoring the pull in my shoulder.

I made my rounds grabbing Jim’s phone, cash, wallets, watches, and anything else that looked expensive from pockets and the ground.

I stood awkwardly staring at my feet as I slid from side to side with my butt planted on my skateboard.

“Hi,” I heard squinting my eyes looking up revealing a equally nervous looking Peter

“Hey,” I nodded at him.

The conversation wasn’t as awkward as I thought it’d be he’d apparently asked Liz to prom and he said yes. Which I was definitely super happy about because why wouldn’t I be?

Anyway who cares about that anyway. Props to Peter for not bringing up the whole ghosting everyone thing for like a week thing. Because if he didn’t bring it up I was going to act like it never happened.

We talked about everything and anything. From favorite candies or colors to our beliefs about life after death. I’d found out his favorite candy were skittles, favorite color: red and that he was Jewish but not necessarily religious and didn’t believe in heaven or hell but he believed in the eternity of a soul.

I’d told him that my favorite candy was F/C, my favorite color being pink and that I didn’t know what I believed in. I believed in a higher power but not that they were inherently good because of all the suffering on earth. I’d told him if they weren’t good and had abandoned us while alive. Why would they care or have any plan for us into the afterlife? I think that part is up to us, and what we believe. I’m trying not to think about death.

Then like clockwork he had to leave before 9 which is funny because it’s like he wasn’t even trying to hide his secret identity. He’d told me he lost the internship and normally his excuse to leave was the internship.

I just guess that means he no longer has Stark’s backup. He only had it for a while anyway he’d be fine without it again. Actually when I think about it, from his behavior he’d exhibited as Spiderman in the short few months I’d had the displeasure of knowing him as ‘Thorn’ he’d be weak. He was unconfident, relied on his tools far too much. Couldn’t see himself without the suit. So maybe he was really just going home. So he’d be fine.

I’d also be fine. No matter how much it didn’t look like it at the moment. I’d be fine. I was always fine. I was fine without my mom, without Rose, without my dad, without Olivia and any one else I’d ever been stupid enough to get attached to. I’d bounce back. I always did.

It’d taken Carmen much convincing to not sit around and babysit me 24/7 because of my shoulder. She was sure that I’d do something dumb and it would get infected.

I was sitting on MJ’s bed getting ready for homecoming. My neck jerked again as Bri attempted to detangle and braid my hair.

If I hadn’t spiraled into the Vulture, Kingpin and SHIELD, rabbit hole I probably would have taken better care of myself and my hair.

“Stop moving,” She tsked.

“Stop trying to rip my head off my neck,” I hissed back.

Bri did my nails back when we were still at her house waiting for MJ to pick us up. She actually did pretty good. I think she would do great at a cosmetology school. She's pretty much into everything: hair, nails, makeup the whole nine yards. She did all of that for me.

The make up was very simple, but I was still able to get my signature winged eyeliner. Winged eyeliner is something very dear to me mostly because Rose was the first to put me on it and I wore it everyday since. It kinda felt disrespectful to stop at this point.

The only thing left was the dress MJ had gifted me. Her mom bought her a dress but she still refused to wear dresses so she returned it for this one, she opted for a very nice pantsuit she already had. Then Bri's outfit of course matched her boyfriend’s.

I’ve never really liked school dances they’re always so overhyped, but I go to them all anyways, because then I get in on all the drama. It helped me build up my arsenal of knowledge about everyone.

I was sitting at one of the round tables near the entrance with MJ, Bri, and Olivia. We had a bottle of “Gatorade” open and out for anybody who wanted to drink it. I was about to drink from it when I saw Liz enter alone.

I made my way over to her.

“Where’s Peter? I thought he asked you?”

“I don’t even know he just ditched me,” She let out a deep breath.

“Aw I’m sorry,” I wrapped my good arm around her shoulder.

“Well don’t think about that asshole, you’re way out of his league anyway,” I assured her to which she let out a weak laugh.

“Come sit with me and my friends,”

A girl with knockers dancing all along her head came up to before speaking

“Why are you crying?”

I sniffed pulling my head from my arms.

“I miss my mom,”

“I miss my mom sometimes but I like my grandma too,”

“Where’s your mom?” I asked.

“I don’t know my grandma says she’s sick,” She shrugged. “Where’s your mom?”

“Well my grandma says she’s in a better place now but I know that just means dead,”

“Yeah my dad is dead too so I know what you mean, I’m Rose. What’s your name?”

“Y/N,”

“Y/N, that's a pretty name,” She smiled. “You wanna come sit with me and my friends Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

I jumped a bit at the voice before matching it to MJ

“What?” I asked in a harsher tone then necessary.

“Jeez sorry,” She reeled back “Someone is asking for you named Carmen. They said it’s important,” She waved her phone around.

My face dropped and I hoped no one caught it.

I grabbed the phone exiting the auditorium.

“Okay what’s up?”

“You know Liz’s dad whatever her name is but yeah, He’s gonna rob that plane that’s moving everything from the Avengers tower,” She rushed

“What!?”

Holy shit

That must be where Peter’s went. So he figured it out too. Kid’s smarter than I give him credit for.

“I’ll send you the location on your phone,”

“Why didn’t you just call me from there?”

“Because you never answer it,”

“True,”

“Y/N?” She whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful,”

“Always,” I smiled.

I rushed out of the building not thinking about how I could get caught. Near the buses there was the new Shocker lying unconscious.

I took the webshooter I found next to him. Then made a run for it. Stopping to hot wire the nearest car, I sped to one of the locations that I knew Vulture’s team kept their weapons at. I was throwing everything in the same pile. Getting ready to destroy them.

Then the door creaked open.

I felt the bed dip as my brother sat next to me.

“Are you coming?”

I pulled the cover off my face

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t,”

“No I won’t leave me alone,” I pulled the cover back over my head.

“You gotta eat something,”

“No I don’t leave me alone,”

“Y/N…”

I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t wanna hear it.

“She would want you to eat something,”

“Fuck you! How would you ever know what she would've wanted? No one here knew her and now one will ever get the chance to again so just leave me alone,”

“Y/N-“

“Don’t Y/N me, get the fuck out of my room,” He sat there for a second, stunned “NOW!”

As soon as the door closed and I flipped back over

I was shaken back into the present only to find that I was pinned under the man who’d entered the room before I zoned out. He reached for the nearest weapon. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. Which is rare. I have a whole weapons catalog in my brain. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t grab it without giving me leeway to get from underneath them.

Unfortunately for me I put too much pressure on my arm in the seconds I took to grip my shoulder recuperating myself. The man had fired the weapon he had at the pile of weapons that I stumbled back towards.

The weapons then emitted purple light before exploding leaving me caught under some wood and concrete as the ringing in my ears only got louder and louder.

The fire around me crackled loudly and I bit my lip.

The smoke was only getting more plentiful.

I started coughing which only got more and more painful.

When I came to myself, I wasn’t choking anymore and the fire around me had died down. I was able to push myself from underneath the rubble holding me down. Not without lots of pain though.

The dress I was wearing was torn completely, holes big enough to see what I was wearing underneath it already.

So I just took it off.

It wasn’t like I was completely naked I was wearing boxers. Not like I haven’t left the house in a bra and shorts before. Also who gives a fuck I just almost died.

It was like 35° but I wasn’t cold in the slightest. I was actually kind of hot.

If my phone was accurate the plane had already made it near the edge of Queens and Staten Island. Rushing there I was seconds late as I saw the plane crash after I saw two figures fighting along it.

There was fire everywhere but I wasn’t thinking. I was just running because I couldn’t make out Peter’s shape and if he was dead-

I swear to fucking God if he was dead. Not again. I couldn’t handle another death.

Peter was saying something. No, pleading as the Vulture stood tall with his wings still intact. He was talking about how it was a nice try and he doesn’t know what he’s messing with.

Peter might not but I knew what this was. I also knew I wasn’t letting him get away with it.

The wings started producing visible waves of heat. Then it hit me, what Peter was trying to say. The wings were gonna blow. I got a head start and lunged towards the man. The element of surprise was on my side. That was until he used the wings to lift himself off the ground.

Now I was fine with parkour and other activities, but being lifted off the ground by someone else, someone who’d never interacted with me ever, is where I draw the line. Then Peter was shooting a web at the wings. To which Vulture dropped me to go after him.

Oh hell no.

“Give it up Peter,” He continued to get closer and closer as the webs were continuously cut through.

You know how people say they see in red when they get angry? Well the opposite of that happens to me I just see black. Remembering very little to nothing.

Last thing I remembered was fire just fire. From my fingertips, arms, head. It destroyed the wings in seconds, before they had a chance to blow up on their own.

Peter webbed up the man before moving out of my sight.

How the fuck do you get fire coming from your body.

Literally what the actual fuck.

I couldn’t breathe.

That’s what it was, I was dying, I was probably in some coma and this was a weird hallucination my brain pushed out in its final moments.

Okay this is it. I was dying suffocating in some coma.

Or even worse this wasn’t a coma and I was going to die with my body lit on fire literally.

“Oh my God,” I gasped trying to get air into my lungs.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them Peter was in front of me in a torn up ripoff suit.

“Y/N,” He moved trying to catch my eye.

“Y/N, Y/N breathe…”

I couldn’t really process his words. My mind was clouded with fear, fear and anger.

Before I knew it I was hitting my head so I wouldn’t hit anyone or anything else. It’d been a coping mechanism I used ever since I was 3.

Peter reached for my arms reeling back after his hands came into contact with my boiling skin.

“Y/N you have to calm down,” He moved in front of me.

I stopped moving my hands but it was still difficult to breathe.

The monitors beeped all around me and if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough. I could convince myself they were birds.

I could tell from the patter of the knock on the door that it was Rose.

“Come in!” I called out.

She picked up the clipboard examining it. As she did every time she visited. Luckily for everyone there was no nurse she could bombard with questions and criticism.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Itchy, like my guts are on fire,”

To which she replied by singing the chorus to Girl on Fire.

“Anyway,” she brought us back after our laughter. “I got you pizza today since I’m sure you’re tired of McDonald’s,”

“I don’t mind McDonald’s actually, anything is better than hospital food. Well actually, their chicken strips aren’t that bad,”

She placed the box down on my lap. I lifted up the lid and was hit with the smell of the many herbs. I pat by my legs signaling she could sit down. She wiggled into the spot that the bar of the bed allowed.

“What are we watching today?”

“Uh…” I clicked on the TV “Vampire Diaries?,”

“That show is still going?

“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll ever end,”

Somehow the show turned into us dancing around the cramped hospital room.

We spun like the ballerinas in the broken jewelry box I got from my mom. Arms flailing around. The air conditioner made a rattling noise and a half eaten pizza on the bed. The situation was probably extremely weird or unpleasant from any other perspective, but because it was her it was perfect.

It was like the moment in rom coms where the camera zooms into the main characters dancing as the rest of the characters are put out of focus and they stare into each other’s eyes. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them I saw Peter’s eyes above mine.

His hands were immediately on my face making my look straight at him.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out.

I sat up feeling a pounding in my head and a pull in my lungs. I was met with the fact that I was definitely not on the ground. I was actually very far from the ground on some ride on the pier. My mouth was dry so it took me a minute to get the words out and when I did it hurt my throat.

“Yeah ’m okay jus’ tired,”

“Okay, well don’t go back to sleep because I think you have a concussion,”

“You’re acting like I died or something, how long was I out dang,” I joked I always hated when things got too serious.

“Uh probably...30 minutes? I don’t know I don’t have a watch,” He sniffed and that's when I realized he’d be crying.

“Were you crying? I knew you cared about me,” I smiled “It was only a matter of time before you fell in love with me, I’m irresistible”

He laughed weakly wiping his eyes “This isn’t funny,”

I looked up at him and started uncontrollably giggling. Soon Peter was laughing too.

The moment was interrupted by a squad of police cars pulling up. I absolutely did not want to get down but my tired muscles betrayed me. I was extremely exhausted. I literally could not move. I just had to go wherever Peter decided to take me. I honestly think I might have a few broken ribs. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before though. We stood off to the side watching as Vulture was stuffed into the back of one of the cars.

“So Spiderman?” I smirked.

“Uh.. no?” He said as if he’s questioning himself.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone I’ve known for a while now,” I twisted my body to face him hissing as a sharp sting shot through my body “You're not very good at hiding it,”

“Hey!” He cried out “But seriously you can’t tell anyone,”

“I already said I wouldn’t, but if it makes you feel better I’ll pinky promise you, and everyone knows you can’t break a pinky promise,”

“Alright,” He sighed.

I tried to move closer again and was stopped by the pain in my sides.

“Okay well, the offer still stands, you’re just gonna have to come over here,”

Taglist:

@tomdiddlyumptious

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kalxdesai · 3 years

Text

Confessions of a Broken Mind||Therapy Session

TW: Addiction, Substance Abuse, Death, Suicide, Lack of self-worth, Family Disownment, Medication, Language, Some smart-ass comments (it’s basically everything and the kitchen sink)

Ah therapy the one place where Danny felt like he could just BE and not be judged. His therapist, one Matthew Davis, had been in Danny's life for over a decade, the two had such a familiar relationship the older man could take simple cues from Danny and know what to discuss, what to drop and what to push. Today, like most days, he was dressed casual: a pair of relaxed black jeans, an Atlanta Falcon t-shirt, sneakers, glasses and as always a pen and notebook in his lap. While this clothing choice may have seemed unorthodox for other patient and doctor relationships, Danny and Matt had established by then clothing was not the high point of their meetings. Usually. "Did you wear that shirt just to piss me off?" Danny asked after a few minutes worth of silence.

A smile played on the other man's lips before a quiet chuckle left his mouth. "No, if I wanted to do that I would have worn an Eagles shirt. Or the Phillies. Or the Heat. Or the Penguins." He flashed Danny a charismatic smile, leaning back in the chair that faced the couch where Danny sat. Matthew had a Mel Gibson look-deep set piercing blue eyes, a mound of brown hair that tended to have a mind all it's own, a slim but firm upper-body, a clean shaven face that was pretty close to perfectly symmetrical. Danny rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his own smile as he looked at the man. There's roughly a minute or two of relaxation before the notebook is opened. "So, how are you?"

While this sentence alone may seem broad, Danny has the shorthand down. "Uh...life hasn't changed much since the last time I saw you. Sleep is still for shit, but it's been that way for so long I can't remember what REM sleep is. Everyone is doing as well as can be..." He let out a breath of air and shrugged. "Sorry, Martin Riggs I am not" he said and gave a tentative chuckle before he looked down at the carpet. "Was there something specific you wanted to ask me? Or something specific you wanted to know?" It had been one thing back when Danny had first fallen down the rabbit hole of addiction but now with the help and support system he was determined to stay clean. He had too much to lose.

Matt's eyes were scanning the notebook, the pen twirling in his fingers. This suited Danny just fine, it was one of many reasons he preferred being the last patient of the day and Matt was more than willing to accommodate, he was either the one patient for the day or the last one. Anything else put him on edge. But now they could be relaxed with most of the day behind them they could take their time and be as at ease as they could. "It's been nearly two months since you lost your father. How has that been?" Danny raised an eyebrow but waited a minute as he reached in his pockets, feeling the chips in his fingers, his own touchstone to the real world as the one he was in could often distort and contort the realities of life.

"My parents...Being raised by them was kind of like being raised by terminators, their actions were dictated by a gain and loss margin, everything they did was calculated and for a specific reason. If they had a checklist it went like this: meet, check, courtship, check, marriage, check, offspring, check, take over the world" he finished and laughed again, brushing some hair out of his eyes. "I can't recall the word love being used, not by my parents, or my grandparents, or anyone else really, it was always fall in line, follow the rules, etc etc." He held the chips still firmly in his pocket, looking down for a minute before he finally looked up again. "She didn't even look at me, not at the funeral, not at the will reading, not a glance, not a single acknowledgment, I mean, I'm not surprised given our history but it's unfathomable to me that someone could be so cold. And for that matter if you aren't raised to love, knowing what it is, how do you learn to love? How do you love, period?"

A silence passed for a few minutes before Matt looked up from the notebook. "You had love-your brothers, all your friendships. May have not seemed like a lot at the time but it was love in it's own form. In a perfect world, all kids would be born to parents that loved them unconditionally and they would come at a time when life was just right for their appearance. But as we know life is far from perfect so stories like you and worse are fairly, sadly common. As for how someone can love if they are not raised with it, well, you may have not been raised by caring parents but it didn't stop you from growing up into a person that cares, the circumstances that you are born into do not have to dictate your own life." He stopped again, his head tilted as he thought for a minute. "You managed at least four relationships, unless the internet lied to me so despite what you weren't raised with you manage to love, no thanks to your parents and that is all you. Tell me about it."

Danny blew out a sigh and nodded. "Well, aside from some juvenile crushes when I was a kid, nothing really serious back home. I came to Cali and was too busy to considered dating, not that that was a real possibility or anything. In this business if you don't look like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise, good luck, you have to take whatever is given and fight tooth and nail for a role you really want. Girls too man, I wasn't like those other idiots running around with hundred dollar bills in my back pockets, throwing them at anything and everything, no, like the song says mo money, mo problems. Anyways, Odessa was my first serious everything, well, first everything really...Pathetic...Here I am all these years later still gone. It was your typical teen love at first and well...Then it wasn't. Parenthood is hard enough for adults but for teens that are far from ready? A whole other beast. It didn't matter what our relationship status was though we had the same goal and that was raising our son the best way we could. Uh...my first relationship after that came when Wyatt was about two or so, I was completely upfront about my past, never hid it but in the end she was uncomfortable that I was always going to be in my son and his mom's life so that ended after about five, six months." Danny stopped for a minute to catch his breath. "One-night stands were few and far between with me, between work, Wyatt, staying clean, I was busy, well, that and I didn't like the way I felt in the morning. My next relationship was about a year and a half, um, she didn't care that I had a kid and an ex, not the way my first ex did, um, it was a nice relationship overall but at some point we realized we were better as friends. Weird when that happens after sex but hey" he said and shrugged. "And then came the most serious one, it lasted for three and a half years. It wasn't perfect, of course, nothing is, but it was really special. I mean clearly it was, it's not like I propose to just anyone. But she ended it and that was that. And then Odessa and I fell back into our old ways, had Heather, Brock and well...stay tuned is all I can say for now."

Another lapse of silence, Matt wrote in the notebook, Danny stood and stretched, the drive alone had been long enough and then to resort back to sitting was a bit of a pain. Sitting back down, Danny faced the other man. The dance was nearly over, it was a similar one each time he came, it may have varied on and off depending on circumstances but mostly it followed a simple pattern. Once more Matt was carefully turning the words in his head before he spoke. "Hollywood is a hard business, for some, impossible, and yet, you keep on logging your hours and taking whatever jobs you can. Why?" Now it was Danny's turn to sit and think, turning his words before he answered.

"Like I already said and this shouldn't surprise you or anyone for that matter: Whorewood, excuse me, Hollywood, is for the beautiful ones, or the wealthy ones that can buy their way into their business or worse the ones who are only famous because mommy and daddy are famous." He scoffed and shook his head. "My whole life I have felt like an outsider, like I didn't belong anywhere. But when I discovered acting, it was like a door to a new world had opened and I wasn't the shy, awkward, and just plain stupid Danny. I was anybody I wanted to be other than me. And that was incredible. I love it, I live for acting so while it might not be the easiest career opportunity, because if it was, let's face it, everyone would do it. I'm an underdog and that's okay, it just means I have to try harder, work harder. It's also why I root for the underdog teams" he said and shrugged once.

Matt nodded once before speaking. "You are far from a loser, Danny. Addiction is a monster that has ravaged countless people, it's destroyed lives, families, claimed lives, the numbers are staggering. And yet for every person lost, there is always someone who survives and thrives. You are one of those people, Danny, everyday that you are clean and sober and staying on the right path proves just how wrong you are when you say such disparaging remarks about yourself. Everyone in the world is a little broken, not everyone shows it and not everyone admits it but no one is truly happy or sane or normal. And that's fine, it's called being human and the one thing that we as humans can do is be the best version of ourself we can be. If you can look at yourself in the mirror at night and be content with the face staring back, then keep up whatever you are doing, and if you don't like the face staring back, sit and think and change what you don't like. Your life, whether you know it or not, means a lot to people, it may not be a lot of people, but there are people in your life that love you, care about you and want the best for you. Keep fighting and staying alive for them."

Danny whistled. "Woah Nelly I'm not sure what I said that made you think you had to like talk me off a ledge but I'm fine, at least in that respect. I take my meds, see you, my sponsor is on speed dial, if I get myself into a bad situation, I get myself out of it. Believe me I know that people are dependent on me, it's one of many reasons I keep going. One day at a time, that's all I can do, just take life one day at a time. I'm not trying for much here, I just...Want to be happy, that's all. But I guess if happiness came easily you would be out of a job" he added which made them both chuckle. Standing, Danny once more stretched and dug his keys out. "Same time, same place?"

Matt nodded and finished writing out the script, handing it to Danny as he too stood. "I upped your dosage-you may be okay with not sleeping but I have an issue so let's try and fix that." Danny shrugged and put the paper in his pocket, facing him again. "And yes I an a Falcon's fan-and a Brave's fan, and a Hawk's fan but my personal favorite team, if I had to pick one-Atlantix oh yes my personal favorite team." His face is impossible to read before he breaks into a grin and laugh, Danny flipping him the bird but chuckling with him as he heads out into the afternoon.

#confessions of a broken mind #tw substance abuse #tw addiction #tw suicice #tw death #tw medication #tw family disownment #tw language #tw therapy

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perfecttimeseleven · 4 years

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Perfect Times Eleven Ep. 2 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE

SCENE THREE

(REMINGTON’s writing something down on a sheet of paper. She puts her pen down and lifts it up.)

REMINGTON

(putting her pencil down)

There. I think that’s it.

(DR. MORELLO takes the sheet of paper.)

DR. MORELLO

Oh, yes. These look good. Harvest, Ocean, Create, Change, Fight, Art, Family, Freedom...Joyce? Do you mean, like, the given name Joyce?

REMINGTON

Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s Joyce.

DR. MORELLO

Not “choice” or “joy” or something?

JAY

Boyce? Like the actor in Jessie? RIP.

DAISY

(loudly, from another room)

What about, like, “guys” but in a really weird accent? Like, goiys?

REMINGTON

Nope. Uh, Joyce.

JAY

Hey, uh...

DR. MORELLO

What?

JAY

Nah, it’s probably unrelated.

DR. MORELLO

Um. Well, it’s a good leaping off point. Joyce, or whatever the word actually is, can be the first word you concentrate on.

REMINGTON

The word is Joyce.

DR. MORELLO

Jay here can lead you through how to do it.

REMINGTON/JAY

What?

JAY

Hey, you know I’ve been having some trouble with my head people...

DR. MORELLO

Which is exactly why you could use the practice.

REMINGTON

Jay? W-We’re paying good money — I assume — for you. The doctor. Not the random kid.

DR. MORELLO

She works as an, uh, unpaid intern. Remington, this is a seven-day retreat. Did you really think I, personally, would have the strength to lead you in everything twenty four-seven? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check on Daisy and take my medications.

REMINGTON

Oh! Okay, yeah, that’s...that’s kinda important.

(DR. MORELLO gets up and exits.)

JAY

Why the…pastels…on the shirt?

REMINGTON

For fuck’s sake, I can’t believe you’re nagging on my outfit when your friend Daisy is dressed like a goddamn tie-dye Fruit Rollup.

DAISY

(loudly, from another room)

It’s gay wrath month, dipshit.

JAY

Okay, man, I don’t wanna be here and you don’t either. So let’s just get this over with.

REMINGTON

Or we could take a break.

JAY

A break? From learning vital information about literal voices in your head?

REMINGTON

C’mon, lighten up a little! I’m spending the week here, so let’s, ah,

(leans in, makes a clicking noise with her mouth)

get to know each other.

JAY

What?

REMINGTON

Like, okay. Hmm...

(trying to think of an icebreaker)

when did you first become Dr. Morello’s patient or unpaid intern or whatever?

JAY

Uh, after my mom died in a fire that burned down our house.

(Beat.)

REMINGTON

Oh. Oh, shit. Um. Sorry.

JAY

Don’t be. You didn’t kill her.

(Beat.)

JAY

Dr. Morello’s been taking care of me since.

REMINGTON

That’s nice of him.

(Beat.)

Nice shirt.

JAY

Oh! You…you’ve seen Daisies?

REMINGTON

Ha! No. What do you take me for, an intellectual? The shirt makes you look angsty and hot. I mean, the movie I don’t give a shit about.

JAY

Oh, well, blame me for thinking complimenting a shirt that’s got nothing but a film still on it means you’ve seen the fucking film.

REMINGTON

I didn’t say nice screenshot, dumbass, I said nice shirt.

(Beat.)

JAY

You’re a little shit, you know that?

REMINGTON

Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.

(4. No Room.)

REMINGTON

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE?

WITH…MOODY VIBES AND SLICKED BACK HAIR?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO LOOK LIKE 80S FEMME FATALES?

GIRLS WITH CHIPPED BLACK NAIL POLISH AND A SCINTILLATING GLARE?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO COULD BEAT ME UP?

AND, BY THE WAY SHE’S LOOKING AT ME, PROBABLY WOULD?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO COULD FORGET ME IN A WEEK

AND, KNOWING MYSELF, PROBABLY SHOULD?

RELATIONSHIPS ARE SHIT. LOVE IS A HOAX.

LOVE WILL BETRAY YOU AND LEAVE YOU OUT TO DRY.

ONLY THREE PEOPLE ACCOMPANY ME FROM BIRTH UNTIL DEATH:

ME, MYSELF, AND I!

AND, WELL, THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD.

CALL ME SELFISH! WELL, IT’S TRUE.

GOT NO ROOM IN MY HEAD FOR YOU.

JAY

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO THINK THEY’RE THE SHIT?

WHO FLIRT WITH EVERYONE THEY SEE?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS I ALSO WANNA PUNCH IN THE FACE

THE MOMENT THEY GET A BIT CLOSE TO ME?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO BEHAVE

LIKE A 2000S HIGH SCHOOL SITCOM TROPE?

WHY DO I LIKE GIRLS WHO ARE DUMB AND SHALLOW?

GIRLS WHO LACK ALL COMMON SENSE BUT STILL HAVE HOPE?

FEELINGS ARE SHIT. LOVE IS A HOAX.

LOVE WILL KICK YOU IN THE SHINS, SPIT IN YOUR EYE!

ONLY THREE PEOPLE ACCOMPANY ME FROM BIRTH UNTIL DEATH:

REMINGTON/JAY

ME, MYSELF AND I!

…AND THE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD.

CALL ME SELFISH! WELL, IT’S TRUE.

GOT NO ROOM IN MY HEAD FOR YOU.

SOME PEOPLE FIND ONE PERSON THEY GIVE HOURS OF THEIR LIFE TO.

ONE PERSON WITH WHOM THEY SHARE A BIT OF THEIR PRIME.

ONE PERSON TO CARE ABOUT MORE THAN THEMSELVES.

ONE PERSON WHO COULD BREAK THEIR HEART AT ANY TIME!

WHAT’S WORSE? MARRIAGE! GOD, THE LEVEL OF TRUST!

THE LEVEL OF ATTRACTION THAT EXCEEDS SIMPLE LUST!

ONE PERSON TO EXCHANGE VOWS WITH, ONE PERSON TO TIE YOU DOWN,

JAY

ONE PERSON YOU TRY TO CONVINCE YOURSELF WILL ALWAYS BE AROUND!

REMINGTON/JAY

IF ANYONE WERE TO

JAY

KILL YOU, LIE TO YOU,

REMINGTON

MOCK YOU, MAKE YOU FROWN,

REMINGTON/JAY

USE YOU, ABUSE YOU,

JAY

OR, ‘CAUSE OF A MESSED-UP KID, SKIP TOWN,

REMINGTON/JAY

DON’T YOU THINK IT’D BE THE PERSON YOU LET YOUR GUARD DOWN FOR?

LOVE’S THE BIGGEST LIE SOCIETY FEEDS US.

AND IF ANYONE COULD GET THAT, I FEEL LIKE SHE MIGHT

SHE KNOWS ONLY THREE PEOPLE ACCOMPANY YOU FROM BIRTH UNTIL DEATH:

ME, MYSELF, AND I!

REMINGTON/JAY

GOT NO ROOM IN MY HEAD FOR YOU.

GUESS THAT’S WHY I LIKE GIRLS WHO DON’T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING.

‘CAUSE I KNOW THEY WON’T CARE ABOUT ME.

EVEN IF THEY’RE ASSHOLES, THEY WON’T RUIN MY LIFE.

JUST FLIT IN AND OUT OF IT WITHOUT APOLOGY.

ACT ONE

SCENE FOUR

(There are sounds of DAISY moving around in a kitchen, baking cookies. DR. MORELLO enters.)

DAISY

Oh, hey!

DR. MORELLO

Oh, that looks pristine.

DAISY

(endearingly at freshly baked tray of cookies)

Ohh, she is.

(looks up at DR. MORELLO)

Escaped the masses?

DR. MORELLO

(tired)

Tell me why is it I have to put up with teenage girls for hours on end again? No offense to you. You’re the most bearable of the three.

DAISY

It’s your job.

DR. MORELLO

Ah.

(DAISY puts on oven mitts and heads over to the oven, before opening the oven and taking out another tray of perfect, round, golden-brown sugar cookies.)

DR. MORELLO

Oh, that smells phenomenal!

DAISY

(taking the tray to the counter)

Look at us. Aren’t we little housewives. Making some cookies for them as they probably are making out outside.

DR. MORELLO

“Making out”? Oh, Daisy, get your mind out of the gutter.

DAISY

(getting plates) Better get used to the thought. It’s gonna be reality sooner or later if it hasn’t happened already and you know it.

(DR. MORELLO pauses and sighs.)

DR. MORELLO

I do hope you’re wrong. I don’t like the looks of that girl. Jay acts all tough, but she’s already been through so much...

(pauses)

Are you all right, by the way? I know none of us expected this, but —

DAISY

I’m fine.

(sets a plate in front of DR. MORELLO)

Really. Hey, do you want to try one of these? I upped the amount of vanilla extract, so...don’t hesitate to tell me if I’ve committed an atrocity against mankind.

(DR. MORELLO takes a bite.)

DR. MORELLO

Oh, no, delicious as ever! Keep up the good work. I’ll go ahead and order pizza for dinner — cheese is safe?

DAISY

Cheese is safe.

(louder)

Hey, Remy Ratatouille, do you like cheese?

REMINGTON

(loudly, from another room)

Of course I do! What kind of depraved life do you assume I lead?

(DAISY shrugs at DR. MORELLO, who nods.)

DR. MORELLO

Cheese is safe.

(DR. MORELLO exits. 5. Sugar Cookies.)

DAISY

SUGAR COOKIES!

EDIBLE GLITTER ON TOP.

BOUGHT IN A COLOR CALLED “HOLOGRAPHIC SKY.”

GOT THE LAST JAR OF IT STILL LEFT IN THE SHOP;

GRABBED IT RIGHT BEFORE A REAL TOUGH-LOOKING GUY.

BEING HOMESCHOOLED IN A WAY,

I’VE FOUND ACTIVITIES TO WASTE MY DAY,

MY FAVORITE OF WHICH, I HAVE TO SAY,

IS MAKING SUGAR COOKIES!

(starting to spread the frosting onto the cookies)

SUGAR COOKIES!

THEY’RE GLUTEN FREE!

HAVEN’T MADE SUCH A BIG BATCH IN A WHILE.

WELL, IT’S A LITTLE EXTRA. Y’KNOW, FOR THE NEW KID

IN THE WEIRD SUIT, WITH THE WEIRD SMILE

WHO’S EXACTLY JAY’S CUP OF TEA.

GOD, WHEN WILL SOMEONE MY TYPE SHOW UP FOR ME?

SOMEONE TO IMPRESS WITH MY ONLY SKILL IN LIFE:

MAKING SUGAR COOKIES.

AND I’LL TRY TO KEEP IT OUT OF MY MIND THAT SHE’S AN ELEVEN.

BREATHE IN THE SMELL OF GRANULATED SUGAR INSTEAD!

IF I MEASURE THIS RIGHT, THEY’LL TASTE LIKE HEAVEN!

THE FROSTING’S GOTTA BE

AT THE RIGHT CONSISTENCY.

LET’S SEE HOW MANY I STILL NEED TO FROST!

(counting)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...11. God!

AND I’LL TRY NOT TO THINK OF WHAT THAT NUMBER IMPLIES.

SPREAD SOME GLITTER. “HOLOGRAPHIC”! GREAT, YES, JUST A PINCH.

STOP THINKING THIS GIRL’S DOOMED TO AN INEVITABLE DEMISE?

PUT THEM ON A PLATE ALL PRETTY — GOD, I’M FEELING SHITTY!

SUGAR COOKIES!

I CAN MAKE ‘EM WHOLE-GRAIN!

TRY TO MAKE SURE I’M NOT GOING INSANE!

SUGAR COOKIES ALL FOR THE GUEST —

HOPE YOU STAY ALIVE LONGER THAN THE REST!

STAY OUT OF SIGHT, DON’T MEDDLE, YEAH, THAT’S WHAT I’D SUGGEST!

AND OH...TAKE A SUGAR COOKIE.

#transcript #perfect times eleven #px11 #ep 2 #daisy noxx #rupert morello #jay mazziotta #Remington long

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