#I could stop laughing but holy christ she’s a psycho
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when I see OB and Casey
vs
when I remember it’s Marvel
#I swear if either of them dies or even hurt I will go feral#I’m not joking#they are my sons#I love them so freakin much#miss minutes genuinely scared me#I could stop laughing but holy christ she’s a psycho#Loki#Loki season 2#marvel#tom hiddleston#Owen wilson#ke huy quan#eugene cordero
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kyle x bebe (smut-ish) fanfic- i hate you
requested by: anonymous
!!AGED UP!!
TW: smut (make out part), suggestive content (mostly just innuendos of being aroused) details of small sexual acts. HELLA tension. i tried to go light on this for it being the first smut-kinda-content on my new account.
NOTE: you guys can imagine whatever you want but please please please picture them 18 or 18+. it would make me feel more comfortable writing this kind of stuff. also please don’t hate on me or the person who requested this. if you don’t like it, just keep scrolling. there is never any need to hate on anyone or anything. thank you :)
it was the middle of class and the students were all taking a timed math quiz. all of them where quickly working, not even checking their answers to see if they were right. all of them are just trying to put down as many answer as they can before the timer stops.
unfortunately for bebe, math was her worst subject. she had only 2 questions, out of 10, filled out. she looked up at the clock. 4 minutes. she started to panic. her face got hot and sweaty. she was embarrassed at how everyone else was either done of about to be, and she had barely started. there was only one more option bebe had to do if she didn’t wanna fail.
she looked over at wendy, and saw that she was done. bebe would ask wendy for answers, but wendy was too far. she looked over at heidi, she was almost done. but it was too risky to ask her for answers. heidi would definitely be too loud about it. cartman sure did change her.
bebe groaned she was out of options. until it hit her. she glanced over at kyle, who sat right next to her and just happened to be the smartest kid in class, and also just happened to be finished. she had an idea.
bebe knocked her pencil case off the desk.
“oh shit! kyle can you get that for me? i cant reach that far.” bebe said in a whiny tone, pouting at kyle.
“uh sure bebe.” he said weirded out at her desperateness. he bent over and started collecting her items. bebe began to write his answers down.
bebe finally finished just as kyle got back up.
“here.” he said. “i still don’t understand why you couldn’t have just picked it up, but whatever...you’re welcome.”
“oh yeah, thanks kyle.” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
skip to the next day, same time
“so children. i looked over your tests last night and well. most of you did mediocre, which was expected, but a few of you got perfect scores!” everyone looked at each other smiling wondering who they were. “but children, i also noticed something a little odd. two of you had the exact. same. answers. for every. single. question.”
the students quickly turned from excited, to confused.
“kyle. bebe. see me after class.”
“what the fuck?” kyle said loudly.
bring, bring, bring!
everyone started leaving the class, one by one. except for bebe and kyle of course.
“bebe what the fuck did you do?!” kyle whispered loudly.
“what did i do?? what did you do!” bebe lied, pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“okay children. which one of you is gonna speak up?? who cheated on who?? this isn’t a coincidence.”
“mr garrison, do you really think i would cheat on a goddamn math test??? have you seen my grades for fucks sake??” kyle said, panicking.
“jesus kyle calm down. no i don’t think you did.”
“thank you!” kyle said relived.
“but i doubt bebe would do it either.”
“WHAT?!” kyle screamed.
“see kyle, i told you i didn’t do it.” bebe said sweetly smiling at him, slighting staring at his lips.
kyle groaned. “jesus christ. i’m leaving.” kyle stormed out of the classroom.
“ah shit he left. sorry bebe, we’ll continue this tomorrow.” mr garrison escorted her out of the classroom and closed the door.
kyle was walking outside of school. “fucking bebe. she’s trying to ruin my life. it’s like there’s another cartman.” he mumbled to himself.
“who’re you talking to, you fucking weirdo.” bebe said standing behind him.
“jesus, bebe what do you want?” kyle said.
“nothing...” she started walking close to him. kyle started stuttering. “i just want you to know that,” she pulled him closer to her by his collar, the tips of their noses almost touching. “i. always. win.” she let go of him and then starting walking away.
“holy shit.” kyle said, standing there speechless, flustered, mad, and slightly aroused.
when kyle got home, he immediately called mr garrison.
“mr garrison?? i know what happened with the test. bebe copied off me. she basically told me herself.” kyle said, grinning like the devil.
“oh are you sure?” mr garrison replied.
“positive.”
“well okay then. thank you kyle. bye now.”
he hung up.
kyle laid down on his bed, proud of himself.
time skip to the next day
kyle was walking down the hallways with stan.
“so yeah i ended up loosing the bet but i don’t fucking care. craig has to pay me back anyways.” stan said to kyle.
“no stand. fuck craig. you should’ve won the-“
bebe pushed kyle against the wall.
“KYLE ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!” bebe yelled, stepping in front of him so he couldn’t move. everyone in the hallways turned to stare towards them.
“bebe what the hell r u talking abt?” kyle said putting his hands up to to per-sway his “innocence.”
“YOU PIECE OF ACTUALLY FUCKING SHIT!” bebe pushed him harder against the locker.
“jesus bebe calm down!” kyle said as her knee went in between his legs, almost touching his groin. at this point everyone in the hallways was crowded around them.
“KYLE! IM GETTING AN F ON THE TEST AND DETENTION FOR TWO DAYS AND I HAVE TO DO FUCKING TUTORING NOW! DON’T FUCKING TELL ME TO CALM DOWN!” bebe said pulling his collar close to her, this time their faces touching. some of kyle’s friends started laughing. “kyle’s such a pussy.” cartman said. “yeah bebe’s totally gonna fuck him up.” craig laughed. this made kyle really, really angry.
bebe became weak for a second, allowing kyle to switch positions. he flipped her and then pinned her against the lockers instead, leaving bebe shocked and turned on.
“bebe i swear to fucking god, if you yell at me in-front of everyone again, i’ll beat the shit out of you. and i don’t care that you’re a girl. got it?” kyle said through gritted teeth, staring at her soft,plump lips. kyle couldn’t hide how furious he was.
“got it...” bebe slightly moaned.”
“BROFOLOSKI! STEVENS! MY OFFICE! NOW!” mr mackey said after seeing them against the lockers and seeing how everyone was crowed around them.
kyle and bebe angrily walked with him, ignoring everyone’s “oooooo”’s.
the three of them were now in mr mackeys office.
kyle and bebe giving each other death stares.
“i’ve had it with you two at each other’s throats, mkay? i think you two need to sort your issues out. follow me.” mr mackey said as he started leading them to a classroom. “you guys and me will stay in here all afternoon until your problems are worked out, mkay?”
after 30 minutes, barely any progress was made. the most they said was, “fuck you.” to each other.
“i don’t think i can take much more of this. i’m asking mr garrison for help. ill be back as soon as i find him, mkay?” he said.
“yeah sure.” kyle said his arms still crossed.
“whatever.” bebe said, her arms matching kyles.
5 minutes had passed and it was dead silent. the two were still standing up, both clearly irritated.
“we wouldn’t be here if you had just studied for your math test dumbass.” kyle mumbled.
“maybe if you weren’t such a stuck up prick, we wouldn’t be here. you know, everyone cheats off each other. it’s not a big deal.” bebe said rolling her eyes.
“if it’s not a big deal then why are we here? oh i know, cause you went all psycho in the hallway!” kyle said, raising his voice.
“i was only mad cause you told on me!” bebe said walking closer to kyle, pointing a finger.
“oh right cause this is all my fault.” kyle replied, making fake quotes with his fingers.
“actually it is. maybe if you weren’t so far up your own ass, you’d stop only caring about yourself! you stupid fucking pathetic loser!” bebe said, now staring at his lips.
“god! do you ever shut up??” kyle said, staring right back at her lips.
“make. me.” bebe said through gritted teeth.
kyle and bebe grabbed each other, sloppily making out. kyle pushed bebe against the nearest wall. bebe put her leg around him, pushing him closer. kyle’s hard-on was pressing against her. “i fucking hate you.” bebe said between kisses. kyle smiled and started kissing her harder. bebe put her tongue in his mouth with no warning, making kyle moan slightly. kyle put his hand at the base of her shirt. “can i?” he asked. “jesus kyle. don’t be a pussy. do it.” kyle smiled and started putting his hand up her shirt, until they heard the door rattle.
“SHIT!” they both said at the same time. they got off of each other.
“okay, i brought you too some worksheets to do, to help calm you down, mkay?”
“actually mr mackey, i think we worked things out. we should probably go home now and finish our homework, right kyle?” bebe said, obviously trying to get out of there.
“uh yeah, yes! we really do!” kyle said, struggling to hide his raging erection.
“well i uh guess you could leave early if you-“
“thanks!” they both interrupted and then quickly left.
mr mackey sat down, smiling to himself.
“i’m such a good consular.”
#south park#south park fanfiction#south park fandom#south park headcanons#south park kyle#kyle broflovski#sp kyle#kyle x bebe#smut#bebe stevens#eric cartman#kenny mccormick#south park stan#wendy testaburger#stan marsh#lemon#18+#south park edit
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Part 2 of For What It’s Worth! Still planning some revisions, but it’s at least finished! Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964154/chapters/71075985
For What It’s Worth - Part 2
V flops over onto her back with a huff and slings her arm over her eyes. Another restless night. Reaching over to grab her phone, she lifts her arm and squints at the screen. 0010. Son of a bitch. This is the third time in the last hour she’s woken up, her mind too full of… everything. Resigning herself to the fact that she won’t be falling back to sleep any time soon, she rolls out of bed with a groan and pads barefoot over to her closet.
“Might as well see what’s keepin’ the rest of Night City awake,” she mutters, pulling on her favorite pair of jeans and an old tank. She slips on her leather boots and grabs a plaid flannel shirt from a hanger, pulling it on as she heads for the door with a sigh.
V steps out of her apartment complex and instinctively heads west toward Bradbury Street. In the distance, she hears the gentle roll of thunder above the noise of the streets. Paying no attention to where she’s headed, her mind wanders as she walks, thoughts ranging from her growing list of opened gigs to whether she remembered to eat today.
A few minutes later, she’s torn from her reverie as the first drops of rain start to fall. Glaring up at the sky and cursing under her breath, she ducks into the nearest alley and suddenly realizes where she is. She’d subconsciously made her way to Vik’s clinic. She’s immediately comforted by the green neon glow above his door. Guess he couldn’t sleep, either, she thinks with a smile.
She heads down the stairs, her mind already feeling lighter knowing she’ll be in commiserate company. Just before she reaches the gate, she spots a bloody footprint leading away from the clinic. She calls out to him as she rounds the corner, voice echoing feebly off the concrete and when she reaches the metal gate, her stomach drops into her shoes.
“Oh, FUCK. Vik!” V runs to him, heart crashing against her ribs as she takes in the scene in front of her. Fuck, is this all his?
Vik is slumped over on the operating chair, right hand pressed to his side as blood seeps between his fingers and pools on the floor. He’s coated in a thin sheen of sweat and his face is too pale, but at least he’s still breathing. She crouches down in front of him and cups her hand under his chin to lift his head.
“Hey, V,” he mumbles with a weak smile, eyes fluttering open to look at her.
“Jesus Christ, Vik! What the fuck happened to you?,” she asks, desperately trying to keep her voice from cracking. She reaches for his hand to pull it from his side, but he resists, letting out a pained grunt.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, move your hand so I can see!”
He shakes his head and chuckles, face scrunching into a grimace at the movement. “Heh. Just a scratch. Asshole sure caught me off guard, though.” He huffs out a breath. “‘Sides, I’m the doctor here.” He winks at her before dropping his head again, a fresh gush of blood pouring out over his hand.
“Yeah, a fucking doctor who was gonna, what, let ‘imself bleed out all over the goddamn floor? Why the hell didn’t you call me?! Or Misty?! Or fucking Trauma, for that matter?!” She leaps to her feet, letting out a frustrated yell, hurt and anger and fear bubbling to the surface.
“Told ya. S’not that bad. I’m — fine.”
Her optics flash in warning as she scans him. “S’not that bad,” she mocks as she rolls her eyes. “Says the man who’s blood pressure is in the fucking toilet. You may be the doctor here, but I’m not about to stand here and watch you take one for the fucking team. I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”
She pushes him back against the chair a little more roughly than she truly intends to and grabs his hand again, pleading at him with her eyes. Let me help you.
“So, you wanna be my nurse, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows at her, but the gesture falls short as he finally pulls his hand away with a wince.
She laughs as she reaches over him to grab some scissors, gauze and betadine from the side table. “Dunno about a nurse, but I spent the last two years hangin’ with Atlanta’s best medics. Picked up a few tricks from ‘em that I’m sure’ll come in real handy about now. Also, sorry about your shirt.”
Before he can say anything, she grabs his lapels and yanks her hands apart, sending buttons flying before grabbing the scissors and cutting through his undershirt.
“Hey - !”
“Thought you were the doctor here? Just part of the job, right?” She gives him a wink and sets to work cleaning around the wound to get a better idea of what she’s working with. The puncture is deep, but clean and still bleeding heavily. “Hmm. Well-approximated. Clean edges. Must not have been a serrated blade. Should be easy enough to suture,” she says mostly to herself before glancing up at him. She feels her cheeks heat up when she catches him staring at her.
“Your, uh, pressure’s still shit though. Lost quite a bit of blood. Gonna at least need at least a liter or two of fluid to compensate.” She grabs the gauze and presses it to his side to try and staunch some of the bleeding, flinching when he sucks in a sharp breath.
“Huh. Guess those guys did teach you well.” He covers her hand with his and her stomach flips at the contact. “Suture and IV kits are in the drawer next to the desk, and - you should find some LR in one of the cabinets on the back wall.” She nods and pulls her hand away with a small smile. “Thanks. Hold that for me, ya? Be right back.”
She finds what she needs easily enough and begins arranging her supplies on the side table, peeling open the IV kit.
“Fifty eddies says you can’t hit it first stick.”
She gives him a look, but says nothing as she applies the tourniquet and cleans his arm with alcohol . 10 seconds later, she’s taping down a perfect 16g IV in his forearm and hooking him up to a liter of Lactated Ringers, sliding the clamp down to let it run wide open.
He huffs out a laugh. “Well, color me impressed. Now, let’s see if you can suture half as well as you started that IV,” he says with a wink.
Her face flushes at the praise. “Keep eggin’ me on like that and I’ll stitch up more than your wound, old man,” she says without bite, leveling her best glare at him as she fights back a smile. She nudges his hand aside to remove the saturated gauze and grabs the suture kit and local anesthetic from the table. Scanning vitals again, she’s pleased to see his blood pressure and heart rate improving.
She injects the anesthesia and sets to work suturing his wound, letting herself fall back on muscle memory. “So, you never did tell me what the hell happened,” she says, glancing up at him.
“Heh. Old client of mine stopped by for some late night ripper work and went psycho. Tried to get some baloperidol in him, but I guess he figured stabbin’ me was the way to go before runnin’ off.”
She pauses, taking in a deep breath and shaking her head. “Holy fuck, Vik! You’re lucky all he did was stab you once! He could have… you - you could have fucking died before I even got here!” Her voice finally cracks under the sudden onslaught of emotion and she throws her head back, blinking away the hot tears springing up in her eyes.
“Yeah, but I didn’t. And for what it’s worth, V, I’m damn glad you’re here. I owe ya one.”
She laughs through a sniffle and gets back to suturing. “Please, Vik. After all the times you’ve patched me up, this is the least I can do.” She finishes the last stitch and ties the knot, stepping back to admire her handiwork. Vik pushes himself up on his elbows and looks down, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Not bad. A little crooked, but it’ll do.” She shoves his shoulder playfully and leans down to remove his IV before walking over to wet a cloth in the sink. “Asshole. And besides, it’s a helluva lot better than you woulda done,” she calls over her shoulder. Turning back, she finds him sitting on the edge of the chair, legs dangling over the edge. She walks over and grabs his chin, gently wiping the sweat from his face. “Don’t you do that to me again, Viktor Vektor, you hear me?” Her eyes are stormy as she stares him down. He stands up gingerly and pulls her into a left-sided hug. “Huh. Now you know how I feel.”
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mouth dreams review but it was typed live while i was listening to it and completely unedited
under the cut because it’s 1800+ words. also, swearing. actual review to come soon!!
mouth dreams' first track is ephemeral and beautiful, spine-chilling and moving. it rocks you into this world in a beautiful passageway, like the entrance to sakaar, and the moment it peaks over into the twilight opening you are almost on the verge of tears.
and then we will rock you kicks in.
/and then the spongebob squarepants opening theme kicks in/.
and then the two motherfucking /sync/.
a beautiful piece of childhood, worked over another. beautiful guitar overlaid with beautiful chanting almost powerful.
the next song uses extensive sentence mixing, but is cut so smoothly that we are convinced Cash is offering up an absurd, painstakingly honest tale. "it's probably a good train." fuck, fuck, yes, it probably is. "my mama was my train." fuck, she was...
the instrumentals are soul-rising, and the "baby, baby, baby" undercurrent is eargasmic. everything about it feels like you're listening to your dying mentor's backstory.
it moves you, and you keep moving. this whole album keeps you in constant motion, as if you yourself have some falling to do.
and then he says "i shit my pants". and you realise, this is it, this is NEIL'S ALBUM, oh, how foolish you were for forgetting.
HELL YES IT'S FUCKING PSYCHO KILLER. let me pause the review of that song, fuck yes.
a heavily sentence-mixed "pyscho killer" focusing on david byrne's bed, overlaid atop the iconic instrumentals of super freak.
this makes the talking heads classic seem like an upbeat song you might hear on the radio. it's much less somber, more passionate.
neil's humor pokes through visibly, shining like a beacon of light that brings a smile to your tear-stained face.
there's no room to breathe on this album; the songs come running together in the most gorgeous of ways. holy shit, am i only twelve minutes in? i think i might sob.
this one is unfamiliar at first—i only saw the partridge family once or twice as a kid. the remixing is smooth, so that it sounds natural.
so natural that when it starts to sound unnatural, it's a terrifying work of art that made me shake. a plea with you to be happy, almost a demand, like they're outside your windows.
the music starts to dance from ear to ear, and it's almost masterful in the horror it invokes.
and then there's scatting. or, what sounds like it.
and then you realise it's the chili's babyback ribs ad. it's soulful, placed atop everybody wants to rule the world in smooth ease.
that's when marilyn manson starts shrieking. the roughness, the rasp, smacking against that smooth drawl. it's a beautiful juxtaposition.
oh, and then the lion sleeps tonight is there. somehow, it fits. you start to revel in neil's genius. no one will ever be able to achieve this again, not in the same way. this is the beacon that you needed in these dark times.
you wonder if you'll cry the next time you hear this.
it's a pretty effective ad, actually. if marilyn manson advertised everything, i might buy it.
the next song makes you jump to attention. the track teased in the trailer, with its jumping guitar and its congested vocals. this sounds almost natural, like an authentic goth song.
of course, he has to say "mouth". aerosmith and green day and, most importantly, neil cicierega, combining to create a mouthy ballad that echoes through you.
—oh, goddamnit, green day. september 30th. neil woke up when september ended. fuck. dammit. is that insensitive? maybe. shit.
i'm not well-versed with music, so these songs were both pretty alien. however, their mixing is masterful, and the removal of the singer's objections to his situations form a sweet little ballad.
my own worst enemy. this one is familiar, and it makes heads turn as you realise what music is slowly remixed.
a rocking tribute to sleeping with your clothes on. short, sweet, rockin' and rollin' as hard as it can.
the segue is beautiful, like it's natural.
the lyrics make your chest heave, and the sound itself is heavily distorted to a dreamy state, as if you are as drunk as the singer sounds. anything can be amore, you realise.
the distortion is noticeable without ruining the track, and neil has gotten significantly better.
it ends a little more nightmarishly, and makes you feel very real. very in your skin. fuck yeah, neil.
the following "stop" is even more jarring, and it's almost welcome.
and then, stacy's mom. i think the instrumentals are where is my mind, i don't know. but it /works/, and it fits together, with stacy's mom slowed down considerably but not so that it ruins the track. the pitch is shifted properly so that it becomes an angry slow ballad about stacy's mom. rife with heartbreak.
and then it stops, breaks off into a cry for "mom" that might awaken buried maternal issues in the listener. maybe just me, though.
here comes fred durst. it gets the "wow wow" treatment, and its nookie theme becomes sweet, bouncing around with innocent sentimentality. i thought i heard seinfeld around there somewhere.
this is a good point in the album to close your eyes and really hear the album, to feel what ou are truly experiencing. it can move by too fast if you're not paying attention. listen to that iconic sledgehammer guitar. listen to—mario?
fuck. fuck. fuck.
fucking christ. not the fucking ewok celebration.
almost nonsensical lyrics play over the nookie instrumental (reversing the last track's roles), and the combination is natural and rowdy. you slowly realise what those ewoks reflected in neil's glasses /mean/, and it horrifies you just a little.
god, that's good. fuck you, neil.
jingles? is that—jingles?
a moment of confusion. and then, THX.
the iconic, crawling note, invading your ears and then slowly fading out. "she drives me crazy" is playing, and the THX sound is its backing track.
only neil.
it gets better as it goes on, from a joking track to a genuinely orchestral sensation. it's good music. it's beautiful. it feels like an action movie soundtrack, as the hero discovers a massive secret.
maybe you are dreaming.
the next sound sample is jarring. the announcement. the outsiders cast. and then more, and then more. it feels like a list of gods left in a dying world. johnny.
and then there is johnny cash.
and then it isn't.
what neil plays is heartbreaking. it feels like your world is crashing down around you. it's a betrayal that could bring anyone to their knees. the booing played behind it is appropriate.
but he builds that world right back up, with soft, strumming guitar. it's forgiveness and vitriol all rolled into one.
actually, you can forgive him for the next track. yes. fireflies. let's fucking go. closer overlaid with fireflies. yes. hell yes.
it's like a gift, a peace offering.
the nostalgic, upbeat lyrics, feel deeper atop the warbling, warped backing track. it's like owl city's song about dreaming feels like it could be a teenage angst anthem.
it's art.
the plucked guitar fades out, and the lyrics start to distort. everything fades away...
nevermind, time for billy joel.
the shrieking, screaming, rasping lyrics of nightmare are mixed atop the bouncing piano music, so the song lays halfway between an upbeat piece of joy, and a warning.
it ain't over yet.
xylophone. why is there xylophone?
the iconic "powerhouse" track serves as our instrumentals, the classic sound one from our childhood as the droning sound of jack white forms a buzzing piece of heartbreak. only neil, right?
only neil.
the "War" sample is iconic, and it makes you jump.
the "Wannabe" sample will make you writhe.
iconic, jamming guitar, and also wario. the spice girls, and also wario. yes. yes. this is it.
the following laughter brings back your childhood. elfman's work on the peewee soundtrack, peripatetic in nature, running up and down your ears as gorillaz croons a bittersweet sound. it becomes almost triumphant against the instrumental, re-energized like the monster in frankenstein's lab.
peewee is laughing. maybe we should laugh too.
the next one up is soft, plucked note by note, until alanis morisette goes completely off the deep end. the spoons, alanis.
holy shit, is that knight rider?
this mashup is classic, expertly remixed without a single hitch. it's neil at his finest, neil at his neiliest, alanis' quiet "Don't you think?" almost smug.
the sound of rain, followed by the crooning iconic "raiiiiin" is enough to make you break down. this is a blessing from an unknowable god.
two backstreet boys lines run up against each other, forming a surrounding sound that envelopes you in shaking guitar until the distorted sound in the back becomes noticeable.
there it is. there's the song you were waiting for.
your savior has arrived, and it is in a horrible form. it rises from the tomb in an unholy abomination. you fall to your knees.
"wake up."
i can't. i'm trapped here. i can feel every single one of my vertebra. i'm crying.
and then beethoven and britney make a duet.
"hit me baby one more time" runs along iconic dashing violin.
you start to hear it, and then it's there even more.
the hall of the mountain king, slowly building, the suspense enough to bring you to the edge of your seat. weezer's lyrics are pronounced like an oracle's prophecy, sardonic and yet grim, delivered with its iconic "say it ain't so" almost ironic.
then the crescendo hits, and the singing feels like it's declaring your fate. it rocks you, and never lets you still.
...and then there is the dial-up. you're staring at neil's face, and you realise the title itself has a secret. the starred letters spelled out "nice modem."
the screeching dial-up sound, and then nothing. you're sitting in the silence, with this quiet revelation.
he's carried you through the greatest adventure of your life, and then left you in the nothingness, tearing away a world that could only be imagined in the dreams of a 90s kid raised on the internet.
it's heartbreaking, but it mends every single tear of that vital organ. it's alright. neil's got you. this is his gift, this is his message.
he shares this dream with us, because it's the only piece of hope we can hold onto. someone else's dream, forged on childhood memories and ambition, woven together with years of experience until it culminates into an hour-long album of cultural mashup and musical blasphemy.
it brings tears to my eyes, and then wipes them off. it wants you to feel, it wants you to bleed, and then it wants you to heal. rejoice, says mouth dreams. rejoice. rejoice in what the world has given you.
you're going to be alright.
definitely, like, a solid 9/10. pretty good album. i think my favorite track was either brithoven or superkiller, tell me what yours was in the replies!
i can see new colors.
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… ready for it? - OKAY JUST EXPECT MOST OF THIS ALBUM TO BE IN ALL CAPS <3 THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING GOOD AND I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING THAT ALL I WANT IS SOMEONE TO SCREAM THIS AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS WITH ME!!!! LIKE IT’S JUST SO FUCKING… BADASS? AND LIKE THE FUCKING VERSES ARE SO GOOD AND THE CONTRAST BETWEEN THOSE AND THE CHORUS IS SO EXTREME BUT ALSO IT WORKS SO WELL AND JUST HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG. HE CAN BE MY JAILOR, BURTON TO THIS TAYLOR!!!!! I FUCKING L I V E FOR THAT LINE!!!!! I MAY SOUND FUCKING PSYCHO RN BUT I JUST… I LOVE THIS FUCKING SONG SM!!!! BABY LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!!!!!!
End game - ALRIGHT THIS ONE ISN’T AS LIKE HOLY FUCK!!!! AS THE LAST ONE BUT IT’S STILL ALL CAPS BECAUSE IT’S STILL SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!! GOD SHE’S SO FUCKING HOT FOR WHAT??????? OKAY ANYWHO, I REALLY LIKE THIS SONG!!! AND LIKE I’M NOT THE ~BIGGEST~ FAN OF FUTURE SO THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING!!!!! AND I LIKE THE WHOLE ED SHEERAN, TAYLOR VIBE!!!!! SHE’S SUCH A BAD BITCH I AM IN L O V E WITH HER!!!! WHAT THE F U C K HOW DID I JUST… NOT LISTEN TO ALL HER MUSIC BEFORE NOW???? I- WHAT THE HELL!!!!!
I did something bad - OH YES!!!! THIS SONG IS A FUCKING BOP AND NOT ONE SOUL CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE!!!!!!! THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING LIKE!!!!!! WONDERFUL!!!! AND IT’S SO FUCKING FJKLADSHFKJDSAHFKJDSHAKJ!!!!!! NO WORDS!!!!! SOMEONE COME SCREAM THIS SHIT WITH ME TOO!!!!!!!! SHE’S LITERALLY SO FUCKING TALENTED AND I JUST- HOW THE FUCK!!!!!!!!! AND JESUS F U C K I N G CHRIST THE COVER PICTURE IS SO FUCKING POWERFUL SOMEONE HELP ME!!!! THEY’RE BURNING ALL THE WITCHES EVEN IF YOU AREN’T ONE, SO LIGHT ME UP, LIGHT ME UP, LIGHT ME UP, GO AHEAD AND LIGHT ME UP!!!!! GODDDDD THIS IS PURE FUCKING GOLD <333333333333333
Don’t blame me - BITCH!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS SUCH A FUCKING GOOD SONG I HAVE SCREAMED IT WAY TOO MANY TIMES IN THE PAST FEW DAYS!!!!!!! IT’S JUST SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!! I LITERALLY FUCKING SCREAMED THIS SONG WHILE I WAS DOING THE DISHES TODAY AND IT WAS THE BEST DECISION I’VE EVER MADE!!!!! MY SISTER LOOKED AT MY LIKE I WAS CRAZY BUT IT WAS WORTH IT!!!!!! THE OH AFTER THE USING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE IN THE BRIDGE MAKES ME SO FUCKING FERAL LIKE!!!! TAYLOR!!!!!! MA’AM!!!!!!
Delicate - OKAY I LOVE THIS SONG TOO!!!!! LIKE LISTEN TO ME RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!!!! I DON’T CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS!!!! THIS IS SUCH A GOOD SONG!!!! STOP THE FACES SHE MAKES IN THE MIRROR ARE SO CUTEEE!!!!!! OKAY OKAY OKAY BACK TO THE SONG!!!!!! I REALLY LIKE IT KJDHAJKFHDSK!!!!!
Look what you made me do - LISTEN!!!! THIS IS A BAD BITCH SONG AND THAT’S THAT!!!! I FUCKING L O V E THIS SONG!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK I LITERALLY USED TO HATE THIS SONG (BECAUSE IT WAS OVERPLAYED ON THE RADIO) AND NOW I’M LIKE GIMME!!!!! I LOVE IT SM AND LIKE….. FSDHFKJSDHFKJHAKJSDHFKJDSAHFK IT’S SO GOOD IDEK WHAT ELSE TO SAY!!!!!!! NOT THE OLD TAYLOR’S FALLING!!!!!!!
So it goes… - OKAY OKAY OKAY SO IT’S SLOWER THAN THE OTHER SONS BUT IT’S STILL SO FUCKING GOOD!!!! AND LIKE THE THINGS THAT SHE’S SAYING!!!! THE BEAT DROPS!!!!! IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD AHHHHh!!!!!!!! NOT ONE PERSON SAID THAT REPUTATION WAS T H I S GOOD!!!!!! LIKE Y’ALL SAID IT WAS REALLY GOOD OR THAT IT WAS AN AMAZING ALBUM BUT THIS ALBUM IS LITERALLY SO FUCKING… PERFECT SO FAR THAT I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW IT’S LIKE… REAL!!!!!
Gorgeous - DUDE THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!! THE LITTLE GORGEOUS AT THE BEGINNING IS TO DIE FOR!!!!!! YOU’RE SO GORGEOUS!!!!!!!! THE LITTLE TINGS IN THE SONG IS SO FUCKING LOVELY AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT!!!!!
Getaway car - BITCHES DON’T EVEN GET ME FUCKING STARTED ABOUT THIS SONG!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU LITERALLY CANNOT UNDERSTAND HOW MUCH I FUCKING LIVE FOR THIS SONG!!!!!! LIKE LITERALLY IT’S JUST… SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!! AND THERE’S NOTHING IN THIS ENTIRE WORLD THAT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE!!!!! IT’S LITERALLY ONE OF MY GO TO SONGS AND I AM NOT AFRAID TO ADMIT THAT!!!!!!! NOTHING GOOD STARTS IN A GETAWAY CAR!!!!!! YOU SHOULD’VE KNOWN I’D BE THE FIRST TO LEAVE, THINK ABOUT THE PLACE WHERE YOU FIRST MET ME!!!!!!!
King of my heart - UM!!!!! THIS IS SUCH A GOOD FUCKING SONG!!!! LIKE!!!!! HELLO!!!!! THIS IS JUST!!! WOW!!! THIS IS ONLY THE SECOND SONG ON THE ALBUM THAT I HADN’T HEARD YET AND IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD????? LIKE REPUTATION REALLY JUST IS SO FUCKING GOOD HUH????? LIKE????? MISS MA’AM???? TAYLOR???? HOW THE FUCK DO YOU JUST KEEP RELEASING ABSOLUTE BOPS????
Dancing with our hands tied - WHAT THE MOTHERFUCKING FUCK TAYLOR!!!! THIS IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!! I SHOULD STOP BEING SURPRISED ABOUT ALL THE SONGS BEING SO FUCKING GOOD BUT!!!! HERE WE ARE!!!! YET AGAIN!!!! FLOORED!!!! THE BEAT ON THESE SONGS ARE SO FUCKING EPIC AND I AM ABSOLUTELY IN FUCKING LOVE WITH THEM!!!!
Dress - HOLY SHIT OKAY!!!! ONLY BOUGHT THIS DRESS SO YOU CAN TAKE IT OFF!!!!!! CARVE YOUR NAME INTO MY BEDPOST!!!!!! OKAY MISS TAYLOR!!!!!! I AM SO FUCKING IN LOVE WITH HER SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM FALLING!!! (THAT’S A JOKE, LEAVE ME HERE) ANYWHO!!!! I DON’T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND!!!!!!
This is why we can’t have nice things - SHE IS LITERALLY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!!! SHE’S SUCH A BAD BITCH AND I SIMPLY CANNOT FUCKING HANDLE IT!!!! THIS ENTIRE ALBUM IS SO FUCKING GOOD!!!!!! AND I’M NOT EVEN DONE!!!!!!!!! THE LAUGH!!!!!!!! BITCH THAT’S SO CUTE!!!!!!!
Call it what you want - THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!! LIKE IT’S NOT EVEN UPBEAT OR ONE OF THOSE THAT I COULD DANCE MY ASS OFF TO!!!! BUT IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD THAT IT DOESN’T EVEN MATTER!!!!!!
New year’s day - OKAY IT’S A LOT SLOWER!!!! AND THE PIANO!!!!! IT KINDA SOUNDS… SAD!!!!! AND THAT’S!!!!! A BIT DIFFERENT!!!!! BUT I REALLY LIKE IT!!!!! I CAN’T TELL IF IT’S REALLY SAD OR IF IT JUST SOUNDS SAD!!!!! I STILL LIKE IT THOUGH!!!!! IT’S REALLY BEAUTIFUL!!!!
#ahhhh okay!!!!!#i am IN LOVE with this album#if you couldn't tell by the all caps <33#zoey listens to taylor swift
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The place it starts, a Sharky x F!Dep fic
How Sharky would propose Dep. Had this idea running in my mind and just went for it. Big thanks to @deputyshitlordsantana and @absurdwanderlust for giving it a read!
This is just fluff.
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“M’kay.”
Ovened frozen pizza, uh, more like microwaved but still? Check.
Boxed wine and cups? Check.
Donna in the boombox? Check.
Note with reservation for the ink-place? - He patted his ass - Check.
Sharky gave a quick glance around, moving the chairs a bit to the left, then a bit to the right and stared at the single bitterroot in the glass cup. Man, he almost broke his neck and lost one leg getting it from up north, hikin’ up ‘til his legs were sore. But it was worth it. After all it was her favourite. He still owed Nick big time for flyin’ him close and he intended to pay him, he wasn’t a cheap ass.
He fumbled through the crammed interior of his trailer, taking shit aside, and tossing half-clean - half-swanked - depending who you asked - pieces of clothing over the counter, aiming to the empty laundry basket in the corner. Score.
He ruffled his hair more than once, still adjusting to the feel of taking his cap off and tugged his best shirt into his pants, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hoping everything wasn’t just wishful thinking from his part. That’d be just awful. And weird. Maybe he just should forget about the whole fucking thing and chuck the idea out the nearest window. Oh man. Now he was feeling all dazed and fuzed but not in a cool way, more like those times he’d tried some of Hurk’s new blends and next day the hangover was worse than having to smell the armpits of a bunch of shit-eating peggies breakfast-lunch-dinner.
Maybe-- Maybe he should pack his eagerness real tight. Like get really know each other, and for once instead of swallowing down the cake, he should chew it slowly, like really get the mouthfeel of it. But the shit was he didn’t wanna wait. Not when everything was crumbling down, falling apart like burning paper, ashes scattered in the wind. Like his folks who waited ages and then after he was born, things just went south, like to the motherfucking hell down route 66, beyond repair.
Fuck no.
‘Cause whenever she was close, damn, it was all firecrackers bursting, searing bliss flowing deep in his heart, heart thudding and palms sweating, feeling like he was scrabbling frantically at the best thing that had ever happened to him. To not let go. Somehow she’d pieced together all the small, variegated shreds in his life in a patchwork without loose strands, and he’d been hooked.
A loud clunk at the door made him flinch, almost toppling his old soccer trophy from the shelf, in his rush to open it.
Dep leaned against the door, arms crossed over her chest, clad in her usual jeans and green flannel. “You missed me, hot stuff?”
Sharky flushed up to his ears before that smile. That smile right there that always seemed to pull him up of any dark holes and made his existence already better by default.
“Fuck yes, shorty,” he said ushering her in, slinging his arm around her trim waist, a little too conscious about the waves of panic pushing up his throat thinkin’ about what the next hour would hold for him.
“Care for a kiss?”
She rose on her tippy toes, and Sharky’s heart drummed, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. Man he was never gonna get used to how heavenly it felt. He kissed her, brushing those full, soft lips with his own, and his mind cruised back to the first months together trudging across the hills. Like back when he’d realized his crush and tried to stomp that annoying little voice telling him there was no way she could reciprocate him, ‘cause the evidence was just right there hitting him in the fucking face day in and day out. Painfully conscious of what a piece of shit he was, just a dumb dropout with an overfixation for blowing things up and talking his brain out. So any minute now she was gonna cut tail and leave him hanging, and he’d better fringe himself with vapid babbler and feigned apathy.
But she didn’t, Jesus fucking Christ, she didn’t, instead sending his fears outta his mind down an over lubricated slip ‘n slide with just a couple of well-put sentences.
“Hey,” Rook rasped, snagging her face off his and looking at him with a furrowed brow, “‘s something wrong? You look pale, man.”
His heart leapt to his throat, all of him absolutely wrapped in a sheet of mind-numbing nervousness. “Nah, just-uh, just been thinking ‘bout-- are you hungry? ‘Cuz there's ah, there's a lotta pizza to share, want ‘sum?,” he blurted out, relying on his mouth to slalom through the distinct set of doubts arising in Dep’s face.
“Uh-sure, yeah, why not?”
He sighed when she dropped the issue giving him some respite and made her way to the table. Her face lit up fixing her gaze on the lavender flower over the mantelpiece and the dimples at the sides of her face flared alive.
“Wait- Is this for me?”
“Uh, yeah. Caught it just north,” he said shrugging as if his heart wasn’t whacking his chest at every pulse, “‘cuz y’know, thought uh, thought you liked that stuff.”
She flashed him a sheepish smile, seating on one of the folding chairs, fingers playing with the purple petals. “Thanks,” she said staring at him, “for everything.”
Fuck. It was hard to focus when those eyes looked at you, and sure he was they did something more than see. “Uh, sure babe, I got you,” he said, brain slogging away to find his balance again.
“Here, shorty,” he cracked, extending the whole platter of smoking pizza and placing it at the center of the table, “grab a bite.”
“This is real good, man,” she mumbled through a mouthful of cheese, “but holy fuck, is hot.”
Sharky grinned, carrying wine and cups back to her, absentmindedly pressing play on the boombox.
She quirked a brow, cheeks bunched up middle-chewing. “Eh, am I missing something here?”
“Uh, don’t think so,” he said, face flushed, studiously avoiding her eyes.
“Shark, seriously, you ain’t that subtle, I mean I love you but yeah, stealth? That's not your strength, dude.”
“So a man can’t uh, can’t work up somethin’ for his girlfriend without said girlfriend suspecting foul play? That what you saying, babe?”
“Pretty much.”
Oh damn. She was onto him like a hawk over a wild hare. He swallowed, torn between dodging the assault or surrender, spilling ‘til the last bit of surreal longing outta his mouth. Fuck it. “Want a drink?”
Real smooth.
“Sure,” she said, extending her empty cup, still squinting slightly and with the glimpse of a smile on her face.
“Uh, well y’know, we’ve been uh, sticking together for a while now,” he said over the glug of wine as he poured, “and I was thinking, y’know, uh, what you plan to do once all this shit has cleared up?”
He stuffed a slice of pizza in his mouth to chew at his own wavering doubts with every hard sink of his teeth on the thin crust.
She cocked her head, apparently mulling his question. “I guess… I guess I’ll help Whitehorse to rebuild whatever is left to rebuild.”
“That’s cool, man.” He cleared his throat, ‘cause it was obvious the subtle approach was flyin’ way over her metaphorical stetson. “But I mean uh, where do you see, um, our awesome ass kickin’- name-takin’ partnership going after we, uh, wrap this shit up, if I may ask?”
He burrowed his red-hot cheeks on the edge of his cup, trying to take a sip of wine but almost toppling the cup and he hoped she wasn’t attentively noting his antics.
“I don’t know, Shark, I thought you were stickin’ around-” She drew to an abrupt stop, the glint of a panicked expression winking into existence around her eyes. “Are-are you,” she cleared her throat and had a swig of her drink before keep going, “do you wanna end this-us?”
What the fuck?
“The fuck no!” The words hurtled out of his mouth in a violent rush, but the mere idea shook him to the core. “Where the fuck did you get that vibe from, shorty? This whole romantic as shit setup screams I wanna break up with you? Like seriously you need to reevaluate your life if you think it is ‘cause it ain’t-”
“Fine, fine!” She spread her hands trying to placate his outburst, “I don’t know, Shark, but you have the most weird fucking filter ever and also you’re so damn sweet I thought you were trying to dump me without hurting my feelings.”
“Fuckin’ Christ and why would I do that huh? Like you could stab me in the nuts and I ain’t considering it, like I’m an idiot but I haven't reached that peak dumbassery.”
She caved in a gale of laughter, until it ebbed away into an honest-to-god grin. “Sorry, Shark, I just, I dunno, I thought--I thought maybe you just got tired to put up with my bullshit and I mean it’s not your job to run around fixing this clusterfuck-”
“You kiddin’ me right? Fuck, babe this is why I keep tellin’ ya you really need to see those movies, like I can't stress this enough ‘cause ride or die is our motto and I ain’t messin’ with ya.”
He reached a calloused hand over the table, stilling his fingers over hers, hiding a wayward shiver riding up and down his spine.
She was chewing her bottom lip, obviously waiting for him to keep going and he tried to shake off the thought he was grasping at delusions.
“Okay, so, uh, here it goes.” He shuffled in his seat, trying to steady his shallow breath and the haze of his mind. “Since I met ya uh, things have really changed for me, in a good--no, in an awesome way and let’s face it babe, half the time I don't even know why you chose me, no, no, hear me out m’kay?”
He rose to his feet, pulling her with him, cupping her chin to tilt her head up. “Like you could’ve had Smirkin’ Fuckface Seed if you were into stickin’ your tongue in psycho,” he stopped to allow her to stifle a laugh, “but for some reason you’re here and I was thinkin’ uh, that maybe you weren’t totally opposed to uh, become my Mrs?”
A jumble of fears jostled in his mind when she didn’t answer him right away, already smacking himself hard when she pulled him down, swilling his breath.
And she said yes among kisses, as he fancied their future with eyes closed, tears stinging behind his lashes.
He groaned, remembering a fine detail left out and whispered. “Just forgot to tell ya, I mean I know I should get ya a ring but given our current situation that's a no-go babe.”
“Shark, I don't give a fuck about the ring,” she said trying to kiss him again.
“Yeah, but I-I do and… here, look, what ya think?” He offered her the folded piece of paper right from his back pocket watching a helpless smile span to life on her face.
“Tattoed rings?” She brought her hand up to her face, eyes glinting with delight. “Fuck yeah, babe-- god I love you, Sharky.”
“‘Aight, then, it's settled, and yeah shorty y'know how much I love you.” He held her close, as they swirled and twirled, shimmying slowly at the rhythm of the swelling music, all fears stealing away and fading into the light of dusk.
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Tagging: @shartyboshaw
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☜ + BOILER ROOM SCENE
So far so not to plan but fuck it when has ANY of this disaster gone to plan? Her face is killing her. Did JD break her nose? SHIT. It takes her a while but she manages to get her brain functioning again as she fumblingly gets back up. That fire extinguisher is close if she can– yes! Got it.
Slowly she creeps up on her bastard boyfriend extinguisher raised, she’d hoped she could solve this without all the fighting. Okay it wasn’t a big hope, it was like…. barely a hope but she’d’ve preferred it. Potentially beating the shit out her boyfriend with a fire extinguisher wasn’t anymore appealing then shooting him. But she’d already made her decision, if she’s going to hell she’s doing it in a handbasket of her own making, not carpooling. If she had to off him too so be it, as long as all this shit ENDED.SHIT– He noticed her coming but at least she got the gun away from him. She stumbles, barely on her way to get it which gives JD a perfect opening to grab her.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
SHE IS NOW INTIMATELY REMINDED OF HOW MUCH BIGGER HE IS THAN HER, AND STRONGER AND ACTUALLY FUCKING KNOWS WHAT HE’S FUCKING DOING. SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT
SHIT
she struggles and screams but there’s no fucking CHANCE she’s getting out of JD’s grip. He’s from beside her to on top of her in an instant pinning her to the floor with bruising force, his grip on her shoulders so hard she can’t help but wonder if they can BREAK. The worst part is that she’s STILL not scared of him, not really, sure he’s already proven with that bell ringer of a kneeing that he’s cool with hurting her but it’s still JD. And that freaks her out. hoLY SHIT– He just DEAD LIFTS HER UP like it’s FUCKING NOTHING and pins her now to the boiler or whatever the fuck it is. She looks up at him wild eyed and shocked, he smiles at her in a kinda manic kinda hot ????? way ( God damn it Veronica you absolute bitch ) then BAM! Kissing. Jesus fucking Christ forget JD she’s the one that’s a fucking psycho here she should not STILL like kissing him this damn much and ESPECIALLY NOT IN THIS CONTEXT. God Heather Chandler was right she is a psycho slut fucking shit.But this new position has given her a lot more to work with and she knees him in the balls sending him staggering back. She takes her opening and bolts for the gun. YES! GOT IT! But before she can do anything with it he’s dived out of the way behind some cans sending them flying. SHIT. Cautiously she gets back up and begins to walk the length of the boiler room furtively looking for JD. She passes the bomb and the boiler but there’s nothing she’s about to continue on but decides instead to double back—As if JD’d leave his baby unsupervised. Sure enough there he is coming out of the shadows at the back of the boilers coming back out towards his bomb switchblade out. Holy shit. Somehow a knife is WAY scarier than a gun which makes no sense—“ You think just because you started this thing, you can end it ? ” Wow semi-reasonable JD very nice.“ I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you I swear to God. ” She means it too. Another thing that should REALLY freak her out that isn’t. Which is terrifying. She loves him but she loved Heather too. 2 for 2 on dead crushes is fine in her book at this point honestly. If it means she saves the school, herself and JD from his own bullshit plan she’ll take them both out right now.“ How do I turn off the goddamn bomb asshole ? ““ FUCK YOU ! “She shoots— and honestly it’s a fucking miracle she even HIT him since her eyes were closed but to shoot off his finger— Okay that’s actually pretty fucking poetic. She if wasn’t TERRIFIED out of her MIND she’d probably be laughing right about now because seriously? What a SHOT. The sight of him bleeding and in pain though is not so great but she’s passed that. Past a LOT of shit, certainly past caring and MILES past stopping. She never takes the gun off him.“ It's all over, JD. Help me to stop it. ”“ You want to wipe the slate clean as much as I do. Okay, so maybe I am killing everyone in the school because nobody loves me. Let's face it, the only place different social types can genuinely get along with each other is in heaven. “There’s a LOT in that and a LOT she could say to it but she doesn’t even know where to begin. How to express ANYTHING she’s feeling right now. Nobody loves him ? What about HER asshole ?! She loves him dammnit !! OKAY SURE she just shot his finger off and is planing to kill him but that DOESN’T change that she loves him !! God damn it Jesus fucking christ this is a huge fucking mess fuck it. Whatever doesn’t matter STICK TO BUSINESS !!! BOMB BUSINESS !!! ROMEO AND JULIET BULLSHIT CAN WAIT UNTIL THERE’S A POST-BOMB WORLD.“ Which button do I press to turn it off ? ““ Try the red one alright ?! “She looks. They’re all red. FUCK OFF JD GOD.“ Seriously, people are going to look at the ashes of Westerburg and say there's a school that self-destructed not because society didn't care, but because that school was society. That’s pretty deep huh ? I'll let you put it in your diary, babe. Free of charge. ”God damn it fucking shit god damn son of a BITCH fucking SHIT GOD DAMN JD fucking HELL FUCK SHIT GOD DAMN FUCK “ Which red button, asshole ? “His expression— Okay THAT hurts. Christ JD….“ Press the middle one to turn it off. If that's what you want babe…..”Somehow despite being SO DONE that actually kinda pisses her off. “ If that's what you want babe ? “ Fuck OFF JD.“ You know what I want, babe ? ““ WHAT !? “He lunges and she FREAKS THE FUCK OUT and shoots him, eyes open this time progress, progress— She gets him in a stomach and his switchblade stabs the bomb, she shoots him again reflexively. The knife did something to the bomb stopping it, JD goes down and stays down. Dead, she guesses. Bet he wished he hadn’t taught her how to use a gun now, the thought makes her smug, weirdly proud. She did it. “ Cool guys like you out of my life. “Hurray for Veronica, saved the day from her own hot fuck up. God this is miserable, everything hurts and she needs a smoke.
#teenhrror#* / ANSWERED — return to sender.#* / MEME REPLIES — now blah blah blah is all i ever do.#writing tbt.#* / HEADCANONS — definitely not forged at all nope.#gdfsljghds i finished up writing this while waiting for my train bc i was so HYPED FOR IT so thanks for giving something to do while in HELL
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Secret--Chapter 28
Characters: Negan x Lily (OFC)
Warnings: Language
Chapter 28
“Look at you!” Maggie shouted as she greeted Lily into the Hilltop, “How are you feeling?”
“Morning sickness has finally stopped. Three fucking months later! I’ll take it though!” She replied, giving Maggie a hug. Her belly had grown a bit more in the last month and the pregnancy was far more obvious. People at Alexandria had already started giving her baby gifts.
“I might have some extra baby clothes in the house if you need any,” Maggie offered.
“I have so much baby stuff already! I don’t think I can fit anymore into my house!” Lily joked.
Negan walked up with a box full of supplies. “Where do you want these, Mags?”
“Give them to Alan. He knows where it all goes. Here to see your girls?”
Lily nodded, “Just wanted to check up. Simon hasn’t come back since we dropped them off here. Wanted to see if they wanted to come back to Alexandria with us.”
“I’ll take you to them,” Maggie motioned for them to follow her over to the trailers by the apple trees that had grown so beautifully over the past few months.
Lily took in the beauty that was the Hilltop. The way things had grown here was truly breathtaking to her. She nodded to everyone who said hello and stopped a few times to get hugs from a few familiar faces who wanted to congratulate her on her growing bump. They reached the trailer where they had been hiding the girls and knocked on the door.
Amber opened the door and smiled when she saw Lily and Negan standing in front of her. “Oh my god, Negan! Lily! How are you?!” She glanced down at Lily’s stomach and screamed, “OH MY GOD YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”
“Mmmhmm!” Lily responded with a smile on her face.
Amber jumped out of the trailer and squeezed her. “I am so happy for you!”
Negan stood beside them awkwardly wondering where the anger had gone from a few months before. “Uh...thank you, Amber. You seem...happy. You don’t seem to fucking hate Lily anymore.”
Amber waved her hand at him after she let go of the hug. “Oh, I never hated her. I guess I was just jealous but I’m fine now. I’m seeing somebody, actually.”
“That’s great!” Lily said, “Who?”
Lara stepped out and wrapped her arms around Amber’s waist. “Me. She’s seeing me.”
“Guuuuyyyysss!!!” Lily shrieked, “This is wonderful!!!!” She hugged them both tightly, squealing in unison.
“I’m so fucking happy for you, Amber,” Negan smiled.
“Thanks, Negan,” she said, “Never thought this would be a thing but here we are!”
“So,” Lily pulled away, “Any chance you guys want to come back to Alexandria? It’s been a few months and Simon still hasn’t come back. I think it’s safe now.”
Amber looked back at Lara, “What do you think?”
Lara thought for a moment then said, “I think we’re good here, actually. The trailer isn’t so bad and we’ve made some friends!”
“I’m glad. If you ever change your minds or even just want to come visit, you know you have a place to stay,” Negan told them.
The four of them talked for a little while, catching up on the little things. Lily talked about the pregnancy, Amber and Lara told their story of how things turned around for them, and Negan beamed as he talked about becoming a dad. Everything was peaceful for once. Lily just hoped that it would stay this way.
“It’s getting dark,” Maggie said as she helped clean up the dishes from dinner, “You guys should stay. We have room in the house.”
Negan swallowed his last bite of food, “I don’t want to impose, Mags.”
“It’s not imposing if I’m inviting you. Please stay.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, “We appreciate that.”
The two of them were shown to the guest room and settled in quickly. Lily nuzzled up to her intimidating teddy bear and sighed happily. Negan caressed her head softly and hummed quietly.
“Amber and Lara, huh?” he said.
“I swear to all that is holy, Negan, if you are fantasizing about that right now, I will lose my shit,” Lily joked with him.
He laughed, “Jesus, no. I’m just...surprised. Thrilled for them but surprised. I didn’t know that Amber...ya know...fucked chicks.”
“Oh good lord, babe!” Lily laughed, “Always learning something new about people!”
He kissed her on the top of her head and agreed. Lily felt her eyes getting heavy. They continued their conversation but Negan could tell she was getting sleepy. He turned off the side table lamp and let her relax. “Goodnight, Lily,” he whispered as he felt her breathing slow down. He pulled her in closer and placed a hand on her stomach. A smile quickly spread across his face as he rubbed the small bump softly. “Goodnight, little baby,” he whispered again.
As he relaxed and felt sleep about to consume him, a bright light flipped on through the window. He shot up, waking Lily in the process.
“What the fuck is that?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied, the worry in his voice growing. He walked over to the window and looked outside.
A voice came on over a megaphone, “Wakey wakey, people of Hilltop! You have something that I need and I need them now!”
“Simon…” Lily whimpered, her voice shaking.
“God fucking damnit!!! Go to Amber and Lara and keep them safe! I’ll stall him!” Negan grabbed his shirt and ran out of the room. He bolted down the stairs and outside to the gate. As he got to the top of the outpost, he saw Simon smile.
“Negan!” he yelled through the megaphone, “Fancy meeting you here!”
“What the fuck do you want, Simon?!” Negan yelled back.
“I want my property!”
“You don’t have any fucking property here! Now get the fuck out of here!”
“Amber and Lara! I want them back! Just give them back to me and nobody has to get hurt!”
“They aren’t here, Simon!” Maggie met Negan at the top.
“Bull-fucking-shit! I saw them! I’ve been monitoring you for weeks, Negan! I know you brought them here. Now hand them over and we’ll go!”
Maggie and Negan looked at each other then back at Simon. “What do we do?” she whispered to him.
“We keep doing this. Lily’s got the girls.”
Lily had managed to get to Amber and Lara in a matter of moments and got them to a safe place. Deep in the cellar of the house, there was a hiding spot that Maggie had told her about a while ago. The three of them sat silently as Negan and Maggie handled Simon and the rest.
“How did he find us?” Amber whispered.
“I don’t know…” Lily’s voice trailed off as she tried to listen to what was happening.
Negan and Maggie stood their ground. “Get the fuck out of here, Simon! I can’t believe I have to tell you at two different communities now, man. If you aren’t going to trade supplies, you can get the fuck away from here! They aren’t fucking here!” Negan shouted.
Silence quickly fell as Simon grew more frustrated. He huffed, “I will kill everyone in there if I have to!”
“You don’t fucking have to you, you fucking homicidal maniac! Get over it! She left you! Christ almighty, you are so pathetic! Is your dick that fucking tiny that you gotta scare women into being with you?! When I had my wives I at least fucking gave them the goddamn choice. But you?! You’re a fucking monster. Just go the fuck home!” Negan’s frustration grew.
“Come on, Negan,” Simon said but was quickly distracted when he saw Lily beside Maggie. “Oh fuck. You’re knocked up.”
“I am. And this pregnant lady really needs her fucking sleep so if you could kindly FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH YOUR BULLSHIT, that would be appreciated. They aren’t here so go,” she hollered to him.
“Ya know, I was trying to be nice. I was trying to make this easy but clearly you’re not going to make it that way. Fine, I’ll leave. But next time, I’ll be bringing a goddamn arsenal so either you can have them for me next time or I can burn this place down. Again!” Simon climbed into the passenger’s side of the truck and instructed Gavin to drive away. The few Saviors that had come along followed suit.
The three of them sighed with relief. They climbed down slowly and went to get Amber and Lara from the cellar. They had been crying quietly as they waited for the go ahead to come out.
“I don’t know what else to do…” Negan said, completely defeated.
“You guys have been amazing but maybe it’s time we went somewhere else,” Lara suggested.
Lily immediately shut down the idea, “No fucking way that’s happening! There has to be somewhere else we can take you.”
“The Kingdom,” Maggie suggested, “We can smuggle them over like we’re taking supplies to the Kingdom. Carol won’t mind. She should be coming by in a few days for some trading anyway.”
“What do you think?” Lily asked Negan.
He nodded, “That’s probably a good idea…”
Amber grabbed his hand, “Negan, thank you for getting us out of there. I’m sorry Simon is hung up on us coming back. You saved us and I will never be able to thank you enough for that. You’ve done enough for us. I think we need to start handling it from here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay. That’s a good idea. The less connected we are, the better. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better.”
“You’ve been wonderful to us even though I was a fucking psycho at first. I was so desperate for help that I thought maybe losing my shit first thing was the way to go. In hindsight, not my smartest choice,” she admitted.
He shrugged, “I mean, I get it. I just want you two safe now, okay? So just get to the Kingdom and stay safe.”
Maggie chimed in, “We’ll handle it from here. We should probably try to get back to bed now.”
They all found their way back to bed after settling down the rest of the Hilltop residents. Lily and Negan lay there wide awake, worried that Simon would come back sometime during the night. She kept assuring him that they did the right thing and that they will stay safe. They did their best not to think about it but the thoughts clouded their minds to an extreme. That night, there was no sleep for either of them.
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“Kiss?” someone inquired.
“Um,” the writer responded, after the words had been written. “I can explain.”
But she couldn’t. Not really.
(Only because this was already KINDA SORTA written … not really, I had 400 words and now it’s like 5000—canon to Warren is Strange THE SEQUEL [title in progress] slash Whale Song, but will definitely not stay totally canon. It’ll get somewhat rewritten to fit the context of the actual sequel once I get to that part of the story … whenever that is. Probably. Lord, if only I could explain the absolute mess that is my “Warren is Strange & etc” doc right now. I’m really sorry.)
ALL WARNINGS FROM PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS STILL APPLY. Meaning the same shit from the video games/Warren is Strange. Just to be safe.
The first time he kisses Nathan, it’s a rushed, bloody thing.
Nathan is both drunk and high on something Warren can’t identify and Warren is two seconds away from busting a nut in frustration over Nathan’s inability to put his own health first—a problem Warren recently found out to be reoccurring for longer than Warren’s been at Blackwell. (Even been in high school, apparently, which just sends all kinds of horrified realizations through his brain when he bothers thinking about it later.)
They’re arguing—brought on by Warren confronting Nathan about not taking his medicine after receiving some hearsay from an accomplished gossiper, which had only added to what he’d originally been suspecting—spitting words and building unanswered questions upon one another, and then one of them starts yelling.
Well, yelling louder. They’re already yelling to be heard over the music, because they’re at a Vortex Club party and it’s a Hot Mess ™ in the making, as per usual, because Nathan had not been answering Warren’s investigative texts and Warren had already maybe had one too many beers (meaning a singular beer—he was working on the lightweight stat of his vitals, okay, it was a work-in-progress) before engaging in a conversation he shouldn’t have taken part in, with someone he normally would have brushed off. Of course, the conversation had been about Nathan, because no one at this damn school could handle the fact that the new-blood nerd was hanging regularly with the rich bitch of Arcadia Bay, and certain people wanted a personal hand in its ruination. Consequently, Warren had gotten riled up.
So, by the time Nathan was emerging from his sacred VIP section, Warren was grinding his teeth to dust in frustration, the alcohol having fueled him until his buzz had all but fully burned away.
Left stewing from the conversation with not a single text asking about Nathan’s medicine answered, Warren approached Nathan immediately, and it all went to shit from there.
In the rush of everything, Warren won’t remember which of them it is that starts yelling first, nor will he remember the words that are said under the pounding thrum of the noise pouring from the speaker just above them, but Nathan is caught somewhere between a loose fury and a wired energy, and Warren knows he’s getting extremely pissed off at him, but he can’t seem to stop himself from pushing it too far.
Maybe he pushes because he’s so tired of Nathan not thinking of himself—despite the fact everyone around them claims the exact opposite of him, that he never thought of anyone else; despite the fact he lets them think that, even if it wasn’t true—or because he just wants Nathan to listen to him for once, because dammit he didn’t save his life for him to turn right around and ruin it the moment he stops looking.
Honestly, Warren can’t believe any of this is happening.
“You were almost arrested for murder, Nathan!” Warren spits, his hand splayed over Nathan’s shoulder to keep him from leaving, and, while he won’t remember all the words later, he’ll remember the hurt and the fury he had put behind them. “Murder! Jefferson was going to use that against you, and you willingly stopped it all on your own? What if I hadn’t known to tell you! If you hadn’t been taking your medicine when they—when they tested you—you could have—they could have—ACK!” Warren chokes, jostled by the sudden force of Nathan pushing him into the wall just behind them with the weight of his arm across Warren’s throat.
“Why the fuck do you think you have any authority to mouth off to me about shit you don’t even understand, Graham?” Nathan retorts, his breath hot and burning with the smell of alcohol. Warren tries to angle his face away, but it’s difficult when Nathan is so damn close. Nathan’s arm, thankfully, drops from where it’s barred against Warren to press instead on either side of him, but now he feels caged in. He can’t move his arms. He doesn’t like the feeling; it’s freaking him out. “You don’t know anything! You think living through a little bit of hell makes you some sort of life expert, huh? Some sort of motherfuckin’ deity of survival? Bitch, I got news for you, you don’t know shit about what it does to me. Any of it!”
“I know it keeps you safe!” Warren half-yelps, and Nathan goes silent, staring at him. The flashing lights around them distort any possible color that might be attributed to Nathan’s appearance, but Warren thinks he might have gone pale. Or green.
Or, really, any color on the rainbow spectrum. The lights were ridiculous. If the situation weren’t curdling something akin to catastrophe in Warren’s gut, he might have found the whole thing funny.
It’s at this point Warren can see the storm brewing right in Nathan’s pupils as they bore daggers into his own, but he’s too tightly-wound and his brain doesn’t connect with his mouth in time to call ceasefire, and he ends up saying words he knows he wouldn’t have said under other circumstances. Warren witnesses something snap in Nathan as he speaks, and then Nathan’s shoving himself up against Warren with venom pouring from his lips before Warren even really understands what it is he’s just done. Not a single word registers in his ears over the buzzing of panic that starts up, all he knows is that whatever Nathan’s saying to him is hurtful and cruel from the tone he uses to wield his verbal weapon, and, for once, Warren thinks he might actually deserve it.
“Cut it out, Nathan!” Warren finds himself yelling, hands flat against the wall that honestly might be fixing his poor posture at this point, he’s been crammed up against it so long. “Cut the fucking scare-tactic bullshit!”
“Scare-tactic bullshit?!” Nathan snarls, then laughs in a low, throaty way that Warren’s surprised he can even hear. It distracts him, just for a moment, from the rest of Nathan happening in front of him. “You want bullshit, Graham? I’ll give you bullshit—!”
Nathan raises a fist and gathers the fabric of Warren’s shirt in it, his mouth still pouring poison that doesn’t register in words, and Warren, furious and panicked and hurt for reasons beyond just whatever it is Nathan is saying to him, grabs the back of Nathan’s head and closes the gap under grounds he thinks might have to do with distracting Nathan from beating the shit out of him right then and there.
It’s not unlike the method Nathan had used against him once upon a time, but he’d added a twist he thought might actually work, because simply getting too close just wouldn’t cut it when Warren hadn’t managed to actually invoke fear in Nathan since the day he’d decided to save his ass from a certain psycho serial killer.
He’d seen it in a movie once or twice. It had worked pretty decently for the people who had tried it. When it didn’t, there hadn’t been any real violence attached to the rejection, just confusion and maybe anger. No one, at least from what Warren remembers, ended up with a bloody lip for their efforts. Then again, no one in the movies had been trying to use it on Nathan Prescott, so maybe this had been an outlier, and a bloody lip didn’t usually occur to those attempting the distraction.
It did, however, occur to Warren. Nathan hadn’t even given the kiss a chance; he’d clamped his teeth down right on Warren’s bottom lip and drawn blood, then shoved away from Warren and stalked back into the VIP section of the party, where Warren couldn’t follow. Warren was too busy smothering his pain and trying to find punctures in his lip to even bother attempting, the blood pouring down his chin to drip onto the tile he had fallen to, staining his shirt and pants along the way.
Well, the plan had technically worked. Nathan didn’t hit him, and he had left instead of continuing the argument. That really didn’t make Warren feel better in the moment, though.
“Shit,” he hisses to himself, wincing when it only pulls his lip, because fuck it hurts. This was the second time Nathan had given him a bloody lip (well, okay, theoretically the first time had been Warren’s doing, but it was as a reaction to Nathan, so it sort of counted), but holy hell, Warren’s pretty sure he could thread some hoops in the holes he was now sporting thanks to Nathan’s ministrations. Does he need stitches? Could you even get stitches for lip punctures? Was he going to have Nathan’s teeth imprints as scars on his fucking lip?
Jesus Christ. This is not what he signed up for.
Hand cupped beneath his chin to try and catch the dripping blood before it got everywhere, Warren stumbles to his feet and weaves around the mingling bodies of the oblivious party-goers in search of the bathroom, knocking shoulders with more than one on the way there. They completely ignore him, too busy in whatever they were doing when he ambled up and disrupted their personal space to break their stride and give him any attention.
He has to brush away both Stella and Hayden (because Hayden apparently talked to him now—it was weird) when he bumps into them, both of them asking what had happened before he can reach the intended destination, but, thank god, the bathroom still has toilet paper and paper towels in it when he gets there, so he’s able to staunch the bleeding somewhat before he makes a total murder scene of both his shirt and the floor of the bathroom. When he spits into the sink, there’s more blood than there is saliva, and his mouth looks like something from a B-horror movie when he opens it.
“Son of an Ewok,” Warren mumbles into the mirror he’s basically pressing his face against a moment later as he assesses the damage, the cool curved point of the sink making good friends with his hipbone in a somewhat painful way. He ignores the feeling in favor of getting as close to the mirror as physically possible, gingerly moving his lip this way and that against his teeth to try and tell if any were showing through the potential rips in his flesh. It takes him a good five minutes to determine the damage. His appearance alone scares off two people who attempt to wash their hands while he’s busy monopolizing one of the mirrors, but he kind of enjoys that.
Turns out Nathan didn’t actually puncture his lip, but you would have thought he did from the way the things wouldn’t stop bleeding. Was it normal for lips to bleed this much? Warren thinks he still might need stitches. How was he going to explain this to his parents? “Yeah, just kissed a guy so he wouldn’t smash my face in and it backfired in a way movies never prepared me for, no biggie. Just sew me up and send me on my way. Lesson learned, I promise. No more psychopath smooches.”
Yeah. That would totally work.
“Dude, who are you talking to?” Warren startles away from the mirror, his fist of bloody paper still hovering by his chin, and finds Trevor (was this guy everywhere?) staring at him in sudden yet mild alarm. Warren thanks the gods that Trevor’s a pothead, because panic was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, and Trevor already looked a little green beneath his uneasy expression. “Whoa. What the hell did you in?”
“A shark,” Warren says bluntly, dabbing his lip again. Trevor’s alarm grows. Warren has to resist the urge to grab him by the shirt and ask him if his brain cells were really worth it. “Jesus, does it matter? I’m bleeding like a stuck pig, is this normal?”
“I don’t know,” Trevor responds, hands in the air and eyes firmly on Warren’s mouth. “Does it feel normal?”
Warren turns and stares at him, perplexed and a little dumbfounded at the question. “Feel normal? No! It fucking hurts!” How would he know what would feel normal, anyway? It’s not like he did this regularly. What kind of asswit question was—
Warren stops his train of thought with a jolt, blinking at himself in shock. What the hell?
He was too angry. Way too angry, and taking it out on someone who just wanted to know what was going on.
This wasn’t how he would have handled things before. This wasn’t the kind of person he was.
… Was it? Did Warren even know himself anymore?
Had he known himself in the first place?
“Man, I think you need to …” Trevor starts after watching Warren unconsciously sway against the line of sinks. He steps forward and grabs the hand holding the bloody paper, then guides it to Warren’s mouth and pushes with enough pressure to make it sting sharply. Blood swirls along the underside of Warren’s tongue.
“Ow!” he yelps, startled, then nearly chokes on the blood as it hits the back of his throat.
“Sorry,” Trevor mumbles, pulling away long enough to let Warren spit in the sink. The moment Warren’s done, though, he’s back again, and he doesn’t lessen on the pressure. Warren’s hand, the original bearer of the paper towel ball, stays in Trevor’s grip the entire time, and Warren’s too distracted to think about removing it. Trevor’s red-rimmed eyes stare holes into their combined grasp on the paper towel wad, but Warren thinks it’s in concentration, not because of the way his fingers were fitted right between the spaces of Warren’s as he held the paper firmly to Warren’s wounds, his (relatively) clean fingers a stark contrast to Warren’s bloody ones.
… Which Warren’s now staring at himself. Quickly, he flicks his eyes away from the mirror and settles for staring intently at the smeared red adorning the tiles below the sink instead, groaning at himself inwardly. He really needed to stop attending Ladies’ Night with the girls (who was he kidding, he attended all nights with the girls, Nathan was too picky about his tastes most of the time), because the romcoms were starting to get to him. Trevor? Really?
“Head wounds are a bitch,” Trevor continues slowly, oblivious to Warren’s inner turmoil and fairly rude repulsion. “Pretty sure you’re supposed to apply pressure to get these to stop.”
Warren … knew that. He knew that. He really did.
But he doesn’t mention that fact, and he doesn’t stop Trevor from holding his makeshift gauze to the wounds, because Warren had been the idiot in this situation, and sometimes it was just easier to let someone else take the reins. Instead, he slumps back against the sink and closes his eyes, fingers of his free hand curling around the cold porcelain to anchor himself in, and lets Trevor do the work.
The party outside is loud, and the music booming echoes into the spacious tiled area that constituted as what was technically the locker rooms, though only the bathroom area was accessible during parties. Probably in an attempt to prevent accidental pregnancies in the dark corners the area offered, but Warren thought that was pretty useless when most of the students lived on campus anyway and could just take it to their dorm rooms.
But, really, who was he to question the decisions made or the logic behind them? He’d just pulled a ridiculously reckless move and paid the price for it, he wasn’t exactly up for candidacy as the next Head of High Vulcan.
“I think it’s stopped,” Trevor says after a while, pulling the paper away for a final time. “Fuck, bro. That’s harsh,” he remarks. There’s a tinge of sympathy to his voice. Warren slides open tired eyes to see Trevor peering at his lip with his own mouth twisted in a grimace.
“Yeah,” Warren agrees wearily, wincing when his mouth continues to sting from the movement. “But it was a stupid thing I did. Kind of deserved it. Thanks for the help.”
Trevor shrugs, finally releasing Warren’s trapped hand. Warren tosses the saturated ball of paper into one of the trash cans, scowling at the drying blood still on his fingers. “You looked like you could use a buddy,” says Trevor. He turns away and starts washing his hands, watching Warren through the mirror in front of him. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” Warren says. At least until I have to explain it to Max, and then Chloe, Warren adds on silently. He hadn’t thought of a perfect excuse just yet (the same one he’d used the last time he’d punctured his lip would probably be a good idea, though falling down the stairs was even better, if he could think of some remote stairs to blame), but Nathan was completely out of the cards without question. He knew what Chloe was capable of, even if he had never witnessed it, and he wouldn’t doubt Chloe would give Nathan hell if she ever found out he was involved. Knowing Nathan and how he tended to handle confrontation, it just wasn’t a good idea. He’d be asking for the start of a war by sic’ing those two against one another, and it wasn’t worth the battle.
“If you need any medical shit for that while it heals,” Trevor continues as he dries his hands, “I can hook you up. Dana’s wicked with a kit, she fixes me all the time. Skating, you know?”
Warren doesn’t, but he nods all the same. “Thanks, Trevor,” he says, and he means it. “Seriously. I appreciate it.”
Trevor salutes him as he heads towards the exit back into the pool area. “Just stay away from sharks, my man.”
Warren huffs a laugh at that, unsure if it could be followed, but it turns out Trevor’s advice isn’t needed. He doesn’t see Nathan again the rest of the night.
Warren understands, later, that this doesn’t really constitute as Nathan kissing him, but his mind catalogues it before he can think to right it, and he doesn’t bother going back on it. Mostly because it’s Nathan, and anything less than getting brutally bitten from engaging in mouth-to-mouth contact with him just wouldn’t seem logical. Warren only wishes he had thought of that fact before trying his distraction tactic. More because of the reactions the bandages he slaps on his lip brings, which get more and more annoying the more he has to deal with them, but also because Nathan refuses to speak to Warren from that night on, and it’s actually driving Warren a minor amount of nuts.
He’d sent Nathan a lot of texts that night the fight happened, and none had been answered, but the texts he sends the day that follows are also ignored, even after Warren outright asks Nathan if he’s okay. That really tugs on his persistence. Being the better man should have some reward!
But more texts are ignored as the days trickle on, and it’s to the point where Nathan refuses to even look at Warren when he sees him in the halls, using people like a remorseless Victoria and a sympathetic-yet-dutiful Hayden as shields whenever Warren gets near and acting like he can’t hear Warren calling his name. It’s so sudden a change that, for a moment, Warren even debates asking (begging) Victoria for help, because he doesn’t know what the hell to do when he can’t even get any response from Nathan and she knew him better than anyone Warren had access to.
Okay, yeah, maybe it had only been like three actual days since the fight, and maybe both Max and Chloe had basically said “good riddance” to Nathan’s sudden departure from contact after catching wind of a rumor—which had been started up by the few people that had actually witnessed the fight (thankfully, no one had seen Nathan almost bite Warren’s lip off, so his excuse of stairs and epic tripping was still pretty sound)—about Nathan turning on Warren, but Nathan’s friendship was something Warren thought he had achieved. He didn’t spend every waking moment with Nathan, sure, and Nathan got pissy more than half of the time they did hang out, causing him to blast Warren at full power, but ignoring him? For days? The fight had been a bad one, and both of them had clearly fucked up, but Warren was starting to feel more and more guilty the longer Nathan acted like their bonding hadn’t happened.
He just wanted to say he was sorry and have it accepted. Why was that so hard?
Four days would be Warren’s limit and, despite the fact it would be a Tuesday that night, Warren decides he’s going to camp out outside Nathan’s—and, well, his own, since he was right across the hall—room and make him talk to him.
That had to work, right?
Yeah, no. It really didn’t. But Warren tries anyway.
He knows Nathan has a Vortex Club meeting that night, so he’ll be getting back later than he would if he were just spending the rest of the day with Victoria. Warren uses this to his advantage—and by that, he pretty much just makes sure he’s seated on the floor right outside Nathan’s door about an hour after classes ended, because the meetings had varying lengths and Warren didn’t want to miss his chance. It’s once he’s been sitting there a good forty-five minutes that Warren realizes he probably should have asked Hayden for his number (manipulative, yes, but if Hayden wanted to be nice to Warren, then Warren was going to use that) so he could have some sort of indication of when the meeting would actually end, but now it was too late for that.
Despite the fact he had lived through a time loop that pretty much required a form of planning to get out of, Warren really wasn’t the best at planning things out in a way that benefitted him. Which, really, made too much sense in retrospect.
The first hour ticks by; Warren’s spent it texting Max, Brooke, and Chloe (in pure meme, an accidental challenge Warren had initiated and Chloe had taken up in full), and hunting through Reddit threads for old Lost conspiracy theories, because why not. Twice people have asked him what the hell he’s doing (Luke, who tells him to just forget Nathan, and some guy named Steve, who seems to find the whole thing amusing and wants a photo), but mostly people have just filtered in and out of their rooms and left Warren to sit alone in the hall.
The second hour brings immense boredom, a very numb ass, and, at the forty-one minute mark, the blessed form of Trevor. Again.
“Hey, Shark-bait!” Warren winces at the nickname, his wave stuttering with the movement before his hand falls to his side. Unceremoniously, Trevor drops to the floor beside Warren and fastens a grin onto him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Waiting for Nathan.” Warren gestures to the door with a nod, just in case Trevor didn’t connect the dots.
Trevor’s grin droops. “Yo, heard that rumor. Dunno what you’d do to invoke that Prescott wrath though. Is it true?”
“The fight?” Warren shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Dude, is that why you were bleeding out in the bathroom? Holy shit! How did he get you like that?” Trevor asks, gesturing first to his own mouth with his thumb and then mimicking the gesture over Warren’s. “How do you even get something like those?”
“Are you asking me how I got these scars?” Warren says, smirking. Trevor looks blankly back at him.
“Uh, yeah, I guess. I wouldn’t really call them scars yet. They look like scabs.”
Warren sags back against the door with a groan of defeat. “I feel so underappreciated here.”
Trevor’s phone goes off, interrupting whatever he had been about to say, and his face lights up when he looks at the screen. “Gotta go, man,” he says, slapping Warren on the shoulder and standing up. “Dana’s out and we have a date. Don’t get in anymore fights, ‘kay?”
“I don’t know, I’ve got a taste for blood now, I don’t think you can hold something like me back,” Warren says sarcastically, ignoring the minor spike of panic that jabs him in the gut. If Dana was out, that means Nathan was, and he was probably going to be back any minute.
Trevor laughs. “Whatever you say, man. Later.”
And then he’s gone, and Warren’s left sitting on the floor outside the dorm room of the guy he’d willingly beaten up in timelines that he wasn’t living in anymore. Suddenly jittery with nerves, Warren pulls himself to his feet and turns to Nathan’s door and debates his options.
Which, honestly, was one of two: stay or go.
If he stayed, it could end badly. Nathan could get angry and start a fight—one Warren likely wouldn’t retaliate in, because Nathan was not the person he’d been those other times, and Warren was not going to hit someone he’d managed to become so close to, not over something so stupid as medicine. (Though, seriously, that was a talk that needed to happen, and Warren wonders why Nathan’s therapist hadn’t noticed. Unless they had? What was the protocol for something like that? No. Distractions—stop it Warren.)
If he stayed, Nathan could also just push him aside and abscond into his room, which would render this all null.
But if Warren left … what would that accomplish? It might be the safer option of the two, but if Warren really wanted to get Nathan back on his side and talking to him, running away was not the option.
Why did it seem like every time Nathan was involved, as an enemy or as a friend, Warren got sucked into engagement with him whether he liked it or not? What was he, a Nathan magnet?
Was that why he’d been the one to suffer through that loop?
Well, no. That wouldn’t have made sense, because Jefferson was the loop, not Nathan. Nathan had just been connected to Jefferson, and therefor been the easiest route to capturing Jefferson before he could kill the people he killed in the past loops.
… Right?
Why did that … suddenly not sound so right to Warren? That’s what he had been going on, and that’s what had made sense. Going on that logic was how he got out of that manifestation of actual Hell he’d been thrown into, that had to be right. So why did it suddenly just sound … not?
Why did Warren—
“If you don’t fucking move right fucking now, I’m going to decorate my door with your fucking teeth.”
Warren startles with a jolt, whipping to the side to find Nathan glaring daggers at him and looking like he’d keep to his promise if needed. Warren clutches the front of his shirt, willing his heartbeat not to puncture a hole in his chest, and anchors himself against Nathan’s door with the other hand to keep from outright collapsing.
“Nathan,” he wheezes.
Nathan’s eyes, formerly on Warren’s, flick towards Warren’s mouth and stick, widening from where they’re focused on what is undoubtedly Warren’s scabs. Surprisingly, all the blood seems to drain from Nathan’s face and, for a moment, Nathan looks utterly shocked. It’s wiped clean from his features not long after it arrives and Nathan returns to glaring, but the blood doesn’t return, and he looks shaken and far less aggressive than he had just a minute before.
“I’m sorry,” Warren says as soon as he’s sure Nathan’s not going to smash his face in. Nathan blinks, then scowls.
“Yeah, I got the damn memo,” Nathan spits. “Like thirty fucking times.”
“You won’t answer me!” Warren exclaims, holding his hands out. “Come on, Nathan,” Warren pushes when Nathan’s glare is deviated to the wall beside him. “I didn’t mean to do all that. I got worried and I heard shit and I started thinking about what could have happened if I hadn’t known and what if that messed it all up? What if that had been a key? Or what if it hadn’t meant anything but it could have convicted you or something and then it would have been on me because I’m the one who did this four fucking times so I should know—What?”
“I asked if I did that,” Nathan repeats just as quietly has he had the first time. Warren’s brain stutters away from his rant, but fails to comprehend what Nathan’s talking about until he lifts a finger and points at his own mouth.
“Oh,” Warren says dumbly. His thumb shoots up to self-consciously finger the scabs, his tongue automatically moving to press on the inside and look around for holes he already knew weren’t there. Nathan’s eyes watch unblinkingly. “Yeah. You’ve got some power in those chompers, dude. Did you know head wounds bleed a lot, even if it’s just your lip? The swelling is finally going down, but it was pretty funny to look at for a few days there. I would look horrible with lip injections.”
Nathan remains silent, his eyes still firmly on Warren’s mouth, and Warren drops his hand when he remembers he’s not supposed to mess with the scabs. The silence stretches, plainly uncomfortable, and Warren shifts on his feet the longer it goes, unsure if he should break it.
“Jesus fuck,” Nathan finally whispers, just as Warren’s about to break the silence himself. “I didn’t mean to do that. Did it hurt a lot?”
“Like a goddamn bitch,” Warren answers proudly. “Kind of upset you didn’t go straight through, I think I would look badass with some snake-bites.”
The face Nathan makes tells Warren he thinks otherwise. “You need to lose the pathetic virgin aesthetic first. It won’t work with metal.”
Warren stops himself mid-eye-roll, suddenly realizing they’d fallen back into their comfortable banter. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Warren asks tentatively.
Nathan looks away. “Fuckin’ looks like it, doesn’t it?”
Warren grins. “You’re forgiven too, then,” he says, then snickers when Nathan looks back at him with narrowed eyes. Warren takes a step to the side, freeing Nathan’s door to access once again. “Also?” he adds on while Nathan moves to unlock his door. “Learned my lesson. You were a shark in a past life, man.”
That gets Nathan to smirk. “And you were a gopher.”
“Sharks don’t eat gophers, Nathan!” Warren calls as Nathan’s door shuts in front of him, but it’s with a grin wide enough to pull on his scabs, but Warren ignores the feeling.
The first time Warren kisses Nathan, it’s a rushed, bloody thing that ends with a set of faint white scars that can only be seen when Warren smiles a little too broadly. Not an idea setting for a first kiss between people, but that’s okay. It just meant the second kiss couldn’t possibly go any worse.
… Second kiss?
Moral of the story: Don’t let me do kisses. They don’t go how I plan them to.
#asks#life is strange#warren is strange#nathan prescott#warren graham#drabble#I changed it bc I didn't like it stuck on an ask like that#it was bothering me#anyway#I forgot the other tags
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Searingly Sweet (Marichat/Adrienette)
What do you do when one of paris’ most superlatively handsome heros comes knocking on your balcony door? You would panic first, right? Like, what does he want; why is he here; should I prepare something? Any and all those thoughts might run through your head I’m guessing. But what does Marinette Dupain-Cheng do when a certain leather-clad feline comes a knocking?
She gets pissed...cause duh, right?
And it wasn’t even like she was pissed at him exactly. It was more just that he happened to appear at the apex of her shitty day. Every single client the 23 year old had that afternoon was completely and utterly shitty human beings. And she gets it, a lot of schools in the area were picking up the american custom of having end of the year dances, for socializing and shit. But if she had to hear another shitty 17 year old complain about how the applique on her dress doesn’t absolutely “shimmer” in the moonlight and how the dress doesn’t make her ASS look like that american rapper Nicki Minaj’s (Which by the way if you’re gonna use french in your stage name PICK A REAL FRENCH WORD). She was ACTUALLY going to cut someone.
So it wasn’t his fault that he happened to knock on the balcony door to her apartment. Also wasn’t his fault that she happened to be in the middle of her 3rd alteration of the SAME dress at the time. But that didn’t stop her from viciously slamming open her door, rage blazing in her eyes.
“WHAT?” She roared
Her attitude instantly vanished, however, as Chat Noir collapsed into her arms. She grabbed onto his waist to keep him upright but his harsh hiss kept her hands at bay. She felt a wetness on her hand, it wasn’t raining out so it couldn’t be good. She looked down and sure enough Chat had contracted a sizeable cut above his hip and in different places along his torso.
“Holy shit!” was all she could really comment “Adrien, what happened!?”
They had long since found out each other’s identity. 21st birthdays mixed with intimate truth or dare and too many margaritas will do that kind of thing to you. But the lucky part was that nothing ever really changed for them. If anything, it made their civilian lives that much easier. Now, if anything went wrong they knew exactly where to go for safety.
Guess this was one of those times huh?
“Mari” Chat groaned out pitifully, body slumped over her petite frame
She didn’t allow him to say anything else as she carefully helped him onto the couch. She laid him down gently and rushed to get a bowl and some cool water. Returning back he didn’t look too good, hair matted from sweat and eyes squeezed shut in pain. She gingerly picked up his head and laid it in her lap. She pressed the wet cloth to his biggest cut and pressed down, shushing him softly to soothe his pain.
She looked into his eyes for an explanation “What happened? Was it a really bad akuma?”. Her heart only sank as he remained silent.
“Oh god it was, wasn’t it? Fuck, if I wasn’t so swamped with work I could’ve been there for you. You wouldn’t be like this. Adrien I’m so sorry” He lifted his hand and gently stroked her cheek. A gentle smile graced his features and she felt like bursting into tears that very moment.
“Please don’t cry, Mari” He said, his voice warmer than a summer’s breeze “I didn’t lose to an akuma. Just to a very old cat and a very sturdy tree.”
At first it didn’t click, she was far too wrapped up in her guilt ridden emotions. But then, ever so slowly, the words sunk in further and further
“Could you say that again for me please?” She said a little too sweetly “I just want to make sure I heard you correctly”
“Oh! I just said that these cuts are from me saving a pretty old cat from a tree” He scratched his head bashfully “old beast was not too appreciative and scratched me up pretty good and the tree kinda finished the job”
She stood up abruptly, knocking chat off the couch and onto the floor.
“Noooo” Chat whined as she stormed off “Don’t leave me here to perish in the cold!”
A blanket, quite unceremoniously, pelted him in the face “BUNDLE UP BITCH”
“Someone’s got their chiffon in a knot” He pouted “what? You missed your monthly ‘designer’s digest’ issue?”
Marinette sat back on the couch wordlessly, only speaking to ask him to drop his transformation so she could patch him up. Her speech was so...professional that he dropped it immediately, worried that he might’ve pushed her buttons a little too hard.
“Hey Mari, you know I was only kidding right?” this silent treatment was a bit of a first for him, he hadn’t meant to offend her, only poke at her a little “I didn’t mean all that stuff I said. I really am sorry”
He tried putting on his best sad face, nudging his head into her in the hopes that it’d melt her heart enough to forgive him. She sighed and put his head back into her lap.
“I’m not mad chat.” She said, preparing a disinfectant cloth “there’d be no point in that”
He breathed a sigh of relief, he wasn’t totally convinced but at least she wasn’t gonna kick him out of the house
“That being said, you tear up the shirt I made you. Sooooo, you deserve this entirely”
Adrien’s eyes shot open wide as a stinging, searing pain shot through his whole side. He moved to shoot up in his seat but, surprisingly, Marinette was pretty strong and held him down, giggling the entire time. A disinfectant cloth slapped to the cut would teach him a lesson or two
“OH MY GOD THAT HURTS SO FUCKING BAD” he howled out
“I know right? You must be so sorry for playing with my emotions and tearing up that shirt aren’t you?”
“I WAS ATTACKED!?!? GET THIS SHIT OFF ME!”
“That’s interesting cause, see, that doesn’t sound like an ‘I’m sorry’ to me”
“YOU ARE SADISTIC”
“And you’re still screaming. I do have neighbors you know”
Adrien gritted his teeth as he tried to bear the burning sensation traveling all through his body “I’m sorry for tearing up the shirt and playing with your emotions even though I did nothing of the sort”
She pressed down on the cut harder
“I’M SORRY I’M SORRY YOU’RE RIGHT ENTIRELY MY FAULT. PLEASE SWEET MERCIFUL CHRIST LET GO!”
She took pity on his poor soul and finally released him. He rolled back onto the floor and scattered away behind her curtains
“I COULD HAVE DIED YOU PSYCHO”
Marinette was hardly perturbed “1.) I checked the bottle before-hand it was gonna sting regardless of what I did and 2.) you still have like 8 more lives, you’re fine”
Adrien was now in full pout mode “I’m not an actual cat you know. The american phrase ‘YOLO’ does actually apply to me”
“You’re so dramatic” she laughed. Scooting over on the furthest side of the couch, she stretched out her arms to lure him back to the sofa. He turned from her, refusing to even acknowledge her offer.
“Oh come on, kitty. I still have to wrap up your other cuts before they get infected”
He wrapped the curtains further up on his body “Better than dying from the shock of the pain!”
She rolled her eyes “I promise I’ll be gentler this time. And, I’ll make sure to tell you when the sting is coming”
He eyed her cautiously, coming out from behind the curtains and inching closer “I want free cuddles the rest of the night”
She sighed “fine, whatever you want”. It was like telling him he’d won the lotto, his perfect white teeth gleaming in a cheshire like grin. Adrien tossed himself on the couch, instantly slipping up her body and snuggling closely to her chest.
“You are so unbelievably spoiled you know”
“You know I think I can still feel the pain of the disinfectant. I wonder why?”
She laughed warmly and let him stay there for a while.
There was no way to really describe the relationship they had. On the one hand they were definitely friends; they had the occasional coffee meet-up with Alya and Nino, popped in on one another if they had a bad day and, duh, saved one another from certain death every now and again. They could go out and see other people, sure, but then they did things like this. Cuddle times where they just stayed silent and share body heat, sleeping in the same bed because one couldn’t be bothered to stay up enough to make the trek home, and even spending whole weekends just vegging out at home watching Totally Spies reruns on TV. It was a weird set up but if you asked Marinette if she would change anything, not a single second would be unmissed.
“Ok mon minou, let’s get you patched up before I have to clean your blood off my couch...again”
He begrudgingly agreed and left her warm hold, sitting with legs crossed and patiently awaited her medical care. She returned back with her famous “Chat almost died today” first aid kit and something thin and white sticking out from between her lips. It caught the blonde’s attention and his feline instincts began to flare up again. Nevertheless, he sat still,only moving to remove his shirt and give her space to wrap his body in bandages.
“There, all done” She said, ever so slightly proud of her work “You were a very good patient this time around kitty. Usually you’re so squirmish”
Even as she scritched his favorite spot behind his ear adrien still couldn’t get his mind off of whatever was occupying his lady’s mouth
“Uh Adrien? You ok?” She said waving a hand in front of his eyes. He blinked back to reality and smiled apologetically
“Sorry Mari guess I’m a little distracted” He laughed nervously. She shrugged it off as no big deal and left to warm up some leftovers for him.
Adrien watched her with childlike curiosity, he didn’t wanna be a real bother to her but it killed him not knowing what it was that was in her mouth. Even still, he hesitated on bringing it up, choosing instead to stuff his face with honey mustard glazed chicken and pasta.
It was maybe 20 minutes into their third episode when Adrien just stretched himself out flat onto her lap. She remarked on his keen ability to make “make himself at home” but it only went in one ear and out another as he watched her cheek poke out with the offending object.
He poked it
She switched it to the other side
He poked it again
She sat it in the middle while looking at him with a strange look on her face
He didn’t even notice as his long fingers kept poking around her face, expecting to flush it out from behind her lips
“Adrien!” She commanded, swatting his hands away “Will you please stop tha-”
“My lady, what is in your mouth?”
The question came out so abruptly that it caught her completely by surprise. She blinked confusedly at him. There was not a hint of joking attitude in his eyes so she took it out.
“It’s just a lollipop. See?” she placed it back over her tongue, sucking on it hard “Nothing special. Cherry flavor I think”
Adrien didn’t exactly know what to feel. Yes, he got the answer he’d been looking for but, at the same time, a cherry lollipop? Really?
“Why didn’t you say you got one?” He fussed
“Why do you care? Kitty, it’s just candy”
He didn’t really have a witty retort to that so he kept silent, rolling over in her lap and facing the TV. Marinette assumed he’d finally gave up so she settled back in her seat.
“I want one”
She groaned, rubbing her temples soothingly
“No, Kitty you may not have one”
Adrien poked out his bottom lip “Why not, you have one”
“Ok, And?”
“Where do you keep them?”
“If I told you that it wouldn’t be a secret stash would it?”
He almost took offense to that “Why would you keep it a secret from me? Do you not trust me?”
“To not eat all my candy without me knowing? No”
“I’d replace it”
“Adrien the last time you ‘replaced’ my candy stash it ended up being more expensive than my rent”
He pulled her into a face squishing hug “Maaari let me have one”
She struggled to push away him away, he was stupidly strong when he wants something “No dammit let me go!”
Adrien finally released her and suddenly stood up. If she didn’t know any better she would’ve assumed that she got the hint. But, sadly, she did and, without remorse, glared him down.
“Chaton, don’t you fucking dare”
He shot out of the living room and into the bedroom down the hall. She chased after him, knowing exactly where he was going and for what. Just as she suspected, Adrien was making quick work of her room, sifting between the sheets and crawling beneath the bed.
“Quit it you fucking sugar addict!”
“Let me have my fix and I will!”
“No!”
“Then the hunt continues!”
Her room was becoming an utter mess. Clothes were being tossed everywhere, it was like a horror movie. She forced him into a corner to maybe try and talk things out somewhat civilly but the blonde bastard just carefully scooped her up and tossed her onto the bed, breaking out from the corner to just fuck up her room even more.
They were on the floor now, huffing and wheezing as they tried to catch their breath. Adrien looked everywhere, the sheets, under the bed, in the closet. He even took the ultimate risk and went through her drawers (The kick to his gut proved that that wasn’t too good of an idea). But still no sweets for a little blonde boy named Adrien
“Please tell me you quit” She huffed out
“It’s not fair” he whined “all I wanted was something sweet”
“I just fed you”
“Dessert is an important part of every meal”
He clambered up onto his feet and stumbled back, knocking into the wall behind him. There was a clamor from the top of Marinette’s closet. She prayed that he didn’t hear it….it was a stupid prayer let’s be real here.
“Hey Marinette”
“Yes Adrien”
“What’s in your closet”
“You looked in there yourself...nothing”
She didn’t dare move from the floor as he stared her down
“If I go over there right this very second, you’re not gonna move”
“I see no reason to do so”
The millisecond he moved toward that closet door she raced in between him and the doorway. A dark smile stretched across his lips. He moved in close and she could hear his heartbeat in her ears. He leaned down, his breath tickling her ears.
His voice made her knees weak “It’s in there, isn’t it my lady”
She sucked on her cherry blowpop harder and harder as she shook her head vigorously
“Then what did I hear in the closet. If it’s not what I’m looking for then what’s there to worry about?”
Her eyes looked everywhere but his own vibrant green ones. He knew what that tone of voice did to her and did it anyway.
Adrien snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her away from the door. His stares were so paralyzing she couldn’t say that she even noticed. They walked over to the bed and gently pushed her onto its soft sheets. He climbed atop of her, smoothing his hands across her skin
“Be a good girl and stay here, ok?”
This man could’ve told her to commit murder and all she’d need was a spoon and a name
He moved back over to the closet and rooted around its dark shelves. Eventually he noticed that the side wall was uneven. Sure enough, when he pressed down on it the panel fell away to a secret hole in the wall, complete with its own neatly painted shoe box.
“Hello my sweet”
He was a kitten on christmas coming out from that closet. Pressed close to his chest the box clearly said ‘Keep out, especially you kitty!” but he couldn’t care less, soon he would indulge himself in a sugar sweet paradise.
“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE, THIEF”
Or at least he would if she didn’t break out of her lust induced trance
He bolted out of the room, eyes darting left and right for any kind of hiding space. Alas, it was no use. Marinette had him stuck in the kitchen corner with nowhere left to run. She took a cautious step toward him and he grabbed the first thing he could, a deluxe chocolate bar that she’d been saving for a super shitty day
Much like this one actually
“S-stop! Kitty, just leave the box on the counter”
“Fine! I’ll just take the chocolate bar then”
“THE CHOCOLATE BAR TOO!”
He tore off the label, never once taking his eyes off hers
“Put it. Down”
A corner of the aluminum wrapping hit the floor and her mind went into a blind panic. He was really gonna eat it if she didn’t come up with something!
He opened his mouth comically wide and brought it to his teeth
‘ThinkThinkThinkThinkThink!’
And as he brought his teeth closer together for bite she decided that she had no choice
Marinette ripped the candy from her mouth and pressed her body roughly against his, grabbing a fistful of his hair and bringing their lips together.
That alone would be seared into his subconscious for the rest of his life but what followed would follow him for as long as time stood.
Cherries, the syrupy sweet taste of artificial cherries flooded his tastebuds as her tongue slipped between his lips and into every corner of his mouth. His mind couldn’t take it to the point where he just dropped the box in his hands altogether, grabbing tightly onto her hips and savoring the flavor as much as he could.
But as soon as it started, it ended. She backed away from him, face redder than the candy in her hand.
“Never touch my stash again”
He tried to speak but she shoved the red sucker into his cheeks
“And I’m sure you’ve probably earned that”
She gathered up her box and walked out the kitchen, grumbling something about ‘Stupid cats’ and ‘putting it in a safe next time’
Adrien’s favorite flavor used to be chocolate
He was fairly certain that’s not the case anymore.
#miraculous ladybug#ml#marichat#adrienette#Marinette#adrien agreste#lollipop#late night#fuckimtired#dialogue#ml fanfic#ml fandom#fanfic#fanfiction
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