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awakeshedreams · 3 years

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sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

#bangtan #bts #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts smut #bts au #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts high school au #jungkook high school au

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meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 7]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, fingering, daddy!kink, dirty talk, ‘cuz you can touch touch me~ 😏 ur gonna need to imagine headband/bandana wearing left&right cheol for this cuz that’s the fantasy i was imagining for this chapter the entire time i was writing it hehe 🍒 quick apologies to anyone who thinks this is moving a little slow 😩 I literally don’t know how to shut up and I end up writing too much LMAO and as always, thank you for the continued interest! Have a great weekend bbys! 💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - ?

dom.cheol has donated $400

therealchan99: yea this is about right on course

dom.cheol: what, did u miss me? 😏

gentleman_josh95: loosely

chwenon: more like the obscenely large donations were missing lolol

You jokingly roll your eyes, exhaling deeply as you push your toys off to the side of the bed. You’d just finished your Saturday show without a hitch, albeit feeling a little lonely. “Aww, c’mon you guys! Don’t tease~” Glancing around the room, it did feel a little odd to you now that Seungcheol wasn’t there but he had called earlier in the day and told you that it might’ve been better if he stayed back.

In truth, you understood exactly how he felt.

Part of you was ready to throw all caution out of the window when it came to Seungcheol and he felt it too. But at the same time, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy and that there were still things that the two of you needed to discuss before deep diving into intimacy, especially when it came to powerplay.

kitty_junjun: hey dont take this in a weird way but like

kitty_junjun: i feel like i saw u earlier today…

universe_WZ: ooo i never thought abt that before

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

xcaliburDK: have ppl recognized u irl before? :o

dom.cheol: i feel like i might’ve seen u irl before too…

Your cheeks bloom a hot pink; a nervous giggle on your lips. “Oh! I mean, yeah, there’s been a handful of times. I’ll wear wigs out sometimes though. Can’t have people calling me out in a grocery store, y’know?”

kitty_junjun: wait so maybe i did see u? I dont wanna give out locations tho…

“Maybe! I’m still out on my little weekend trip and I was out and about earlier~ if you see me next time, don’t hesitate to say hi! I promise I don’t bite~” You pause, leaning closer into the webcam as you wink.

“Unless you want me to~”

You start running a bath right after you end your show, stretching and turning on some music as you start to unwind. Thankfully you didn’t have a tiring show today, so you decided to take the rest of the night to pamper yourself in preparation for your day with Seungcheol.

Biting your lip, you pick up your phone, already seeing a multitude of messages from Seungcheol on your lockscreen.

cheollie ✨: don’t forget ur glass of water!

cheollie ✨: also don’t forget i’m picking you up at 9:30am

cheollie ✨: hope ur ready to spend all day at the roller rink with me baby

You can’t help but grin, already excited to see how Seungcheol spent his day at work. Typing a response, you quickly hit send before setting your phone down onto the nightstand and making your way to the bathroom.

‘I can’t wait! I’m so excited~ u promised me free skates and free food so don’t forget!!’

It’s exactly 9:29AM when Seungcheol messages you that he’s downstairs.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing down your dress and hair and grabbing your bag before you rush down to meet Seungcheol.

There’s a mild feeling of nervousness that pours over you, but you quickly shake it off once you see his blue headed figure standing outside of the lobby.

“‘Cheollie!”

He turns around to face you just as you stop in your tracks; gasping when you see the cute way he’s styled his hair for today. “Whoa… wow, uh, j-just.. Wow. You look great in bandanas...”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes forming crescents. “I don’t usually work the weekends so I thought I’d spice it up a little. Guess it looks good?” You can only nod shakily, mentally cursing yourself when you feel the arousal already pooling inside your body. He winks at you once, opening the passenger’s side door as you slide into his car.

“Hope you’re ready to have a boring day at the roller rink with me.” He gives you a tight lipped smile, shutting your door before he rounds the car to get in on the driver’s side.

“I’m telling you, it’s not going to be… y’know, anything crazy.”

“Who says it has to be! I’m excited to see where you work and anyway you promised!” You tease, poking him in the arm as he starts the car. “I know, I know… I just---I don’t want you to be disappointed. I bet you thought I was some rich old hotshot before, huh?” Seungcheol shoots you a glance, smiling gently.

“Mmm.. not really.”

“No? You didn’t think I was some lonely CEO with loads of money with a thing for camgirls?”

You laugh at his response, placing your hand over his on the gear shift.

“Nah, if there’s anything I thought about you, it was that you were way too nice to be on some camming website.”

The two of you have idle conversation as Seungcheol takes his time to drive to the roller rink. In all honesty, he was a little nervous himself, although he’d never say it to your face.

“Oh my god, is that it?! It’s so cute!”

He parks close to the entrance, turning the car off as he jogs over to your side to help you out. “‘Cheol, you know you don’t have to be so sweet~” You pout, latching onto his arm as he locks the car.

“Oh but I do. You deserve to be spoiled once in a while!”

A blush coats your cheeks yet again, shy eyes fixated on the floor as he walks you towards the entrance. “Yeah, but all you ever do is spoil me… That sybian was no joke and my god, Seungcheol, the price! I almost had half a mind to return it…” You end in a mumble. Seungcheol laughs, opening the door for you as you unlatch from his arm and step in first.

“You’re worth spoiling. Now stop worrying, okay? I promise I’m not up to anything illegal in order to afford your gifts.” Giggling, you lean up to kiss him on the cheek, nodding firmly.

“Fiiiiine, I trust you, y’know?”

“I know, baby. I trust you too, now let’s go meet my best friend who’s going to play butler for you today.”

He leads you over to the concession stand where an equally tall yet bored male stands. “Hey, Jeongguk!” The said male looks up from his phone, eyebrow quirking when the two of you walk up. “Uh, hey Seungcheol-hyung…” Seungcheol feels a weird tenseness fall over the three of you, clearing his throat to get Jeongguk’s attention when he finds the younger male staring.

“Um, this is my friend. She’s---uh, she’s gonna be hanging out here for the rest of the day. I promised her that you’d give her free food, so uh, just--just let me know how much it is so I can tell Namjoon to take it out of my paycheck.” Jeongguk grins, a sly look in his eyes when he finally meets Seungcheol’s concerned eyes.

“Sure! Can I talk to you over there? It’s about our paychecks actually.” Jeongguk turns to you, leaning over the counter. “Sorry, employee only info, ch--uuuuuh, you know the deal.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Jeongguk points off to the side, gesturing to Seungcheol who follows suit.

The younger male makes sure they’re a safe distance away, watching as you pluck your phone out of your purse before he starts talking in harsh whispers. “What the fuck, dude!? You’re---no, you’re not fucking Cherry. She doesn’t have a boyfriend so what the fuck?”

The blood drains from Seungcheol’s face; the feeling in his fingers going numb as his throat goes dry. “Wuh--what? What are you---what are you talking about?” Jeongguk scoffs, eyes rolling jokingly.

“So, hyung, how do you know her?”

“You’re asking me?! How do you know her!?” Seungcheol’s eye twitches just as Jeongguk shoots him an incredulous look, arms crossed in mock annoyance. “I’m a horny boy, what can I say.”

“Please do not ever use those words to describe yourself again.”

The younger male stands in silence, nodding in thought.

“Fuck, wow, I should’ve noticed. All those extra shifts you were taking, the reason why you could never come hang… You don’t like working here as much as Yoongi-hyung but you--holy---holy shit, wait--you… you can’t be…”

Fuck, here it comes.

“You’re fucking ‘dom.cheol’ aren’t you? You’re the one always leaving her insane fuckin’ donations all the time… and the gifts.. Oh my god. The ‘cheol’ was from Seungcheol, I should’ve known...”

Seungcheol dies a million deaths inside his head; the ringing in his ears becoming unbearable while Jeongguk stares at him in mild disbelief. “It all clocks out, holy fuck. No wonder you were so fucking eager to pick up so many extra shifts…” Seungcheol’s mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure what to say.

“I mean, fuck hyung, I--I’m kind of impressed but wow. You think you know a guy, huh?” Jeongguk laughs, patting the older male on the shoulder. “She’s only one of the hottest camgirls out there right now. You’re a lucky man, hyung.”

A weird possessiveness washes over Seungcheol, hands gently balling up into fists at his side. “Okay, well, she… she’s just here to chill, alright? Don’t do anything weird. And most of all, don’t say anything weird either.” The younger male nods, already walking back to where you were standing.

“Hey, sorry, hyung’s paycheck is gonna be pretty sad next week and I had to let him down gently. Anyway, I’m Jeongguk. You are?”

You give him a fake name; shaking his hand over the counter as he grins at you.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You spend the first two hours on the floor skating; catching Seungcheol’s eyes on you from time to time as he sits nearby cleaning skates. The place seemed pretty empty, which was something that Seungcheol was immensely glad for.

Eventually you skate off out of the rink, making your way to Seungcheol who smiles at you when you come sit next to him. “Told you. Bored already, huh?” The two of you share a laugh, watching as the few other people continue to skate around the rink.

“I mean… it’s different! Right about now I’d usually be six episodes into a new series or something… It’s nice to be somewhere else and doing something different.”

He nods in return, slightly pouting when he turns to face you. “I hate that you have to go home tonight.” You mirror his sentiments, lips quirking into a sad smile.

“I know… I don’t wanna go home…”

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek, eyes flitting over to Jeongguk. “Hey, maybe we can bail a little early. This place is pretty dead anyway, and I--I can have Jeongguk clock me out when he leaves. My shift is supposed to end at 3PM and it’s noon now so… We can leave in a hour? Maybe get a late lunch?”

“Seungcheol… I don’t want you to get in trouble…” You mumble, brows furrowing in concern. “Really, it’s okay! We can just hang here ‘til then and still have time to get dinner!” He sighs, knowing you were right. Now was not the right time to be testing the waters with Jeongguk and Namjoon.

“Okay, okay, you win, baby.”

It takes 45 minutes.

45 minutes and a free drink from the concession stand before your mind starts wandering.

You watch Seungcheol converse with Jeongguk behind the concession stand; his cute laugh sending you into orbit when your eyes meet and you can’t stop the thrums of lust pouring over your body when a certain idea pops into your head.

Seungcheol turns his attention back to the younger male and you quickly start to unlace your skates and put your normal shoes back on before Seungcheol’s entire break gets taken up.

You walk up to the two; Seungcheol cleaning off his hands before he exits from behind the counter.

“Seungcheol…” You softly call out; a look of concern crossing his features when he stops in front of you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, mmhmm! I just--I need to talk to you, if that’s okay?” Jeongguk already turns to leave, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You drag Seungcheol away, tugging him towards an even emptier part of the roller rink as the concern builds up inside of him. “I have an idea.” He feels himself gulp, already anticipating what you have to say.

“And…?”

“Well… It’s… It won’t t-take long I don’t think, just… hear me out?” You question gently, head tilting cutely up at Seungcheol who already knows he can’t say no to you. “Okay, shoot.”

“Wh--what if we… film a small POV v-video… like, not a live one! Just a small upload on my channel to test the waters maybe? I just---you don’t have to say anything and--and it’ll be quick, and--and like, nothing major just a little, um, f-fingering and--oh my god, sorry, I shouldn’t have a-asked, that’s just---I’m s-sorry I was thinking about it and it kinda got to me and I’m---I’m kinda already wet just thinking about it and--”

“No, let’s… let’s do it. To be fair, people seem to like risqué public things like that right?” A crimson blush falls on Seungcheol’s cheeks as he turns the tables, wrapping a hand around your wrist as he walks you to the employee restroom. “It’s… there shouldn’t be anyone in here so we should be safe.” He mutters, checking to make sure before he ushers you inside and locks the door behind him.

“I don’t know what to do so you’ll have to guide me a little here, baby.”

You nod, pulling your phone out and opening the camera app. Scrolling, you put it in video mode, clicking the red button before passing it to Seungcheol. “I’ve never done it either but I’m sure I can just… crop it and I m-mean it’s meant to be a little shoddy, right?” You giggle nervously, body already on fire when Seungcheol makes the camera face you. “You don’t have to say anything if you’re not comfortable with your voice being in the video, I just need… this.”

You reach for his free hand, playing with it as you run your fingertips across the veins. “I’m sorry, daddy… I just… I couldn’t help but think about your fingers inside my tight pussy...” Seungcheol almost loses his grip on your phone; palm clammy when he watches as you bring his hand underneath your short dress.

“Please… please, won’t daddy fuck me with his fingers? I promise I’ll be good for the rest of the day if he lets me cum on his fingers…” You whine.

Seungcheol isn’t ready to have his voice heard yet, so he nods, fingers twitching in your hold.

You take this as an okay to continue, dragging his hand up until his knuckles graze your panties. “O-oh, fuck…”

This time Seungcheol takes the lead; his own body ablaze when he can already feel your wetness soaking through your panties. He presses into it, digging his fingers into the wet material until it sticks to you like a second skin. “D-daddy, please, please, put them inside, I need it!!” You mewl, trying to keep your voice down as much as possible while still being audible enough on camera.

He shoots you a look; one that tells you to hike your dress up until your soaking panties are seen through the camera lens. And you easily follow, holding your dress up as Seungcheol drops to his knees, angling the camera upwards until only his fingers and your clothed pussy are in view. You spread your legs a little more, back resting on the wall behind you.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer…”

He gulps once, saying a prayer before he slowly pushes your panties to the side. And you all but lose any semblance of sanity the second he runs his fingertips through your wetness, pussy clenching around emptiness. “Fuck--fuck me, please!”

Once Seungcheol deems his fingers wet enough, his eyes meet yours, asking for silent consent before he makes any further moves. You nod frantically, fingers gripping the material of your dress tightly.

Seungcheol bites his lip the second he starts sinking his first finger into your tight warmth; already feeling the drool pooling in his mouth when you moan loudly. He starts a slow pace, mentally noting just how obscenely wet you are when he drags his finger out slowly. “Ngh, daddy m-more, please, I can take it, I wanna be f-full~” He gives it a few more thrusts of his index finger before he adds his middle finger; this time slowly sinking both digits into your pussy as you whimper above him.

His eyes flit up, mesmerized when he sees your face contort in bliss. “O-oh my god, I’m--I’m already so close… Daddy’s fingers are so much bigger and thicker than mine, it fuh--feels so good…” You mutter; squirming when Seungcheol doesn’t move.

And it takes him a second; too fixated on the way your tight walls only seem to suck his fingers in deeper.

But he starts a moderate pace, scissoring and curling his fingers inside of you until you’re reduced to whines and soft breathy moans.

He can already feel you getting tighter around his fingers after a few more minutes; doubling his pace when you start to beg.

“Oh my god, oh my god, ‘m so close, fuck! P-please touch my clit, daddy, please make m-me c--cum!”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his pants but he focuses on you, thumb immediately on your clit as he rubs harsh and quick circles on the swollen nub. He doesn’t know how much time has passed or if his break is over, but the look of absolute pleasure on your face is enough to make him not care.

He curls his fingers into your g-spot, holding them still as he continuously rubs your clit until you’re cumming; thighs shaking as you let out shaky breaths above him.

“Oh m-my god, daddy!” You mumble in a hurried frenzy, thighs clamping around his hand between your legs as the pleasure washes over you.

Seungcheol lets you ride out your high, gently wiggling his fingers inside of you as he starts to slow down.

“Mmh… Seungcheol…”

Oh fuck.

He definitely liked it when you moaned his name.

“Y-yes…?” It’s his cue to turn off the camera, shaky finger pressing the ‘stop’ button. He gently slides his fingers out of you, muttering an apology when you wince.

“You don’t have to say sorry! It’s just… ‘m sensitive…” You mewl, already missing the feeling of his fingers inside of you. “Y-yeah, of course! I, um, I hope that was okay? I’ll give you a second to get cleaned up, I’ll uh, run and get you some water.”

You nod in response, thanking him before he quickly washes off his hands and bolts out of the restroom; ears and cheeks redder than a tomato.

Once you’re alone, you quickly open your camera roll, clicking on the video as you hurriedly crop out the beginning and end, making sure that the short video didn’t have any incriminating details before you open up your camming homepage.

There’s a moment of unsureness that makes you pause. You bite the inside of your cheek, weighing the potential outcomes of posting this to your page.

But before you can change your mind, you quickly start the upload; adding a title and a short description before you lock your phone to let it process.

In the meantime, you get cleaned up, checking your appearance in the mirror once before picking up your phone again. Unlocking it, you find the upload has finished and you exhale sharply, publishing the video before locking the device again.

You move to exit the restroom, already finding Seungcheol holding a bottle of water on the other side.

“Oh, there you are! Everything okay?”

“Mmhmm! I uploaded the video before I could change my mind so I’m a little nervous…” You trail off, accepting the bottle that Seungcheol passes you.

“Well, the good news is, we’re bailing, now. I told ‘Guk to clock me out so we should get out of here so I can get your mind off of that.”

He shoots you a genuine smile, offering his hand which you take.

“Let’s fuckin’ get some ice cream, I think we deserve it.”

Seungcheol takes you on a scenic drive, taking you to an ice cream shop further away from town.

The two of you sit down in a booth towards the back of the shop and he helps clear your head, talking about various topics to keep your mind off of the huge risk you’d just taken.

“Anyway, that’s one of the reasons why I’m never bar-hopping with ‘Guk again. He’s got no limit, nobody can keep up and nobody wants to keep paying the uber fees.” You laugh as Seungcheol finishes his story, taking a sip of your milkshake.

You can’t help but sigh after a few seconds, pouting at Seungcheol who blinks questioningly at you. “‘Cheollie, I don’t wanna go home…” He stares back, unsure of what to say. A million different thoughts run through his mind in the split second before he opens his mouth.

“Why don’t you stay with me for a couple more days?”

Seungcheol doesn’t understand the gravity of his words until they spill out of his mouth; a panicked look on his face when you go completely silent in the seat across from him. “I m-mean, uh, I mean, like, fuck. I’m sorry, that must’ve been way too out of bounds. I just---it’s just, you don’t want to go home and---and I can take care of you while you’re here! Even if it’s just a couple days. I can help you film too!” He curses himself for rambling; immediately shutting himself up.

“I--I don’t want to bother you, ‘Cheol… That’s really too kind of you…” A shy blush coats your skin; chewing on your bottom lip when you shyly avoid his gaze. “A-and my filming stuff is back home too… I brought a few toys with me so I could film my weekend shows but--but my camera…”

“I can ask Jeongguk!”

You shoot him a bewildered look, brow quirking. “He--he streams sometimes too, like, video games ‘n shit. He actually offered me his extra equipment a while back, if I ever wanted to get into it myself. I can ask to borrow it, if you want?”

You drink in his words, unsure. The thought of staying with Cheol might’ve danced across your mind a handful of times, but now that the offer was on the table, you weren’t sure how to respond.

You trusted Seungcheol, and you knew by now that he would never do anything to hurt or betray you. But this was a far leap from how things were the last time you’d seen him.

“Listen, I can see the cogs in your head turning, baby. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’m not forcing your hand into anything you don’t want. But I know you’ve been wanting to get out a ‘lil more and… well, in truth, I think it’d be nice for both of us? I can take care of you while you’re here with me and we can keep each other company.” He pauses, smiling at you from across the booth. “But I can also take you back to your hotel room and let you pack so you don’t get home too late.”

“‘Cheol I trust you.. It’s just that… I’m s-scared…”

“Scared? Of what, baby?”

The warmth blooms inside of you; shy eyes meeting his.

“Scared that I’m not gonna wanna go home…”

Seungcheol takes it easy for the rest of the day and doesn’t make an effort to get an answer out of you. He takes you around the city, tugging you into shops he thinks you’d like and walking around with you aimlessly until the sun goes down.

But time seems to go even faster once he takes you to dinner; a sigh on his lips when he knows he has to bring the topic back up.

“I hate to ask but… I have to take you back to your hotel after this so…” Seungcheol trails off, leaving it open-ended for you.

“I know… I just want to know… Why do you like me so much?”

The question takes Seungcheol by surprise; eyes wide as saucers. “I--I’m sorry I don’t follow?” You chuckle under your breath, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s just… we were strangers, kind of, before Friday, you know what I mean? And now you’re offering your place to me to just… crash at for a few days? What if I rob you blind? Or what--what if you try something with me that I don’t like?” You suddenly start catastrophizing; mind going a mile a minute with potential outcomes.

“Hey, whoa, whoa, wait. Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay! Breathe!” You let out a shaky exhale, groaning as you hide your face in your palms. “God, ‘Cheol, ‘m sorry, I--I really want to stay with you for a few days. It’s just that my brain is going light speed and I can’t keep up. I really like you too, you’ve been nothing but kind and sweet and you’re so handsome, it’s just so crazy to me...” Your words are slightly muffled but Seungcheol catches it, a soft chuckle on his lips when he leans his head on his palm.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa and leave you alone. You can take the bed. Hell, you can even rob me blind and I’d say thank you.”

He reaches his free hand over, fingers circling your wrist as he pulls your hand down. “And I’m offering you my place because I like you as you. You’re cute and funny, and so fuckin’ humble. And I want to get to know you better. In person, y’know?”

“Y-yeah… I wanna get to know you better too. And it’s only a couple days right?”

“Right.”

Seungcheol drives you back to your hotel, a smile on his face when he sees you in better spirits.

He parks his car in front, turning to face you. “So I’ll just wait here while you grab your things and check out, okay? I’ll contact ‘Guk to see if I can swing by and take that extra equipment he offered.”

This time you nod cheerily, body buzzing with excitement as you hurriedly step out of his car. “I’ll be quick!”

He gives it a moment before he picks his phone up, taking a deep breath before typing out a message to the younger male.

‘Hey, ‘Guk I have a favour. Get back to me asap if u can.’

Jeon 🥴 : bold of u to msg me…

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s features; fingers hovering over the keyboard. ‘What are you talking about?’

Jeongguk takes a second to send a screenshot, Seungcheol’s cheeks burning a crimson colour when he sees the content.

Jeon 🥴: it’s the employee restroom for me.

Jeon 🥴: bruh it’s also the fuckin way i knew it was u before i even played the video… fuck man is that why u too so long on ur break? u do kno u went over right, I clocked it cuz i was expecting u to come back sooner

Jeon 🥴: for the rec im not mad, actually im impressed just cant believe this is u

Seungcheol ignores Jeongguk’s messages, instead opening the screenshot again and re-reading the video title.

‘I was so needy… 🥺 so I asked daddy to finger me in public…’

Jeon 🥴: bitch i kno ur reading this im dropping the hyung bc u kept this from me!!

Jeon 🥴: after i even offered u my extra camming stuff u were already doing it behind my back…

Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the younger male’s dramatic nature, fingers quickly swiping across the keyboard.

‘Alright, I’m sorry okay? I just didn’t think my online habits needed to be public knowledge and for the record, that was the first time I’ve ever done anything like that. I promise no more secrets, unless absolutely necessary. And also speaking of that extra equipment, can I swing by and grab it from your place?’

Jeon 🥴: r u gonna cam now? u got one sip of the devils juice and now ur all in?

‘Would u stop being dramatic oh my god. It’s not for me, it’s for ‘cherry’. She’s going to be staying with me for a few days and I fully expect you to keep your mouth shut on this.’

Seungcheol grimaces when he calls you by your online handle; already feeling unfamiliar with it.

Jeon 🥴: o i c. sure, u can come pick it up, simp. I’ll make sure she’s got all the necessary things before u get here and u owe me one!! i fully expect u to come stream with me at least once for keeping ur secrets

‘It’s a deal. I’ll be there in an hour and a half.’

A sigh escapes Seungcheol’s lips, his eyes dancing over to your figure that skips towards the car. He locks his phone just as you tap on the glass, popping the trunk before he steps out.

“How’d it go? All checked out?”

“Mmhmm! Did you get in contact with Jeongguk? What’d he say?”

A nervous laugh spills from his lips as he puts your small luggage in the trunk, slamming it shut before rounding the car to open your door. “I’ll help you get settled in at my place and then I’ll drive over really quick and grab the stuff from his place.”

You hop in his car, fiddling with the seatbelt until Seungcheol slides into the driver’s seat.

“He didn’t ask what you needed it for?” Gulp. Shit.

“I just told him that I was thinking about streaming, for--for gaming stuff. He was okay with it.”

He’d tell you the truth. Soon, he promises.

No. Now.

Seungcheol sighs, hands on the wheel as he stares straight ahead. “No, no, I--I can’t sit here and lie to you. Jeongguk knows you. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, I told him to keep his mouth shut because I didn’t want him to bother you while we were at the roller rink.”

“I--oh…”

He can only nod; eyes dancing over to you as you play with the hem of your dress. “Yeah, I--I’m really sorry. He--He also found out I was ‘dom.cheol’ too and, fuck, I--I don’t know, I kind of panicked too. I hid that part of me from everyone I know so it was just… it was a lot.”

You meet his sad eyes, shooting him a small smile of your own. “It’s okay! It’s a little funny that happens right after that ‘kitty_junjun’ says he saw me in person too, huh? I mean, thanks for trying to protect me at least. It must’ve been weird for you too.”

“Yeah… If you’re not comfortable anymore, I… I’d understand too.” Seungcheol prepares himself for the worst, knowing that there was a chance that this was goodbye.

“Are you kidding! What’s one person gonna do? And you said he’s your best friend and you trust him… I’ll have to take a leap of faith on that one but… I trust you.”

You lean over the center console, kissing him on the cheek. “And anyway, as long as he’s not one of those weirdos asking for ‘favours’, I think we’re in the clear, right?”

Seungcheol grimaces; as long as it’s from me and not you, he thinks.

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

Text

New Amsterdam Chapter 17

“Peter, Jamison wants you in his office.”

Peter winced and clutched the handle of his bag defensively. “I’m not late!” he said desperately.

Beth rolled her eyes at him, purple eye shadow glinting in the office lights. “It doesn’t matter,” she said firmly. “He wants you in his office now.”

Peter knew better than to argue. The whole staff of the Daily Bugle knew better than to argue. He quickly made his way through the crowded halls of the Bugle to Jamison’s office and timidly knocked to introduce himself before going in. Standing at Jamison’s desk was another man, a guy with short, pitch black hair, who looked about as happy as Jamison—i.e. not at all. “I’m here, Mr. Jamison,” said Peter nervously.

“Peter, meet Eddie. Eddie, this is Peter. What have you got for me today, Peter?” demanded Jamison’s harshly. Peter could hear the crunching noise as he savagely chewed through the candy he’d taken to eating when he’d stopped smoking.

Peter quickly reached into his bag and pulled out the pictures he’d taken before handing them to his boss. “He—hello,” he stammered towards Eddie. The man just glared at him and Peter tried to retreat further into himself.

He found himself wishing, as Jamison went through the photos, that Wade was with him. He had no doubt that Wade’s presence might just antagonize his coworkers at the Bugle more—but Peter found his presence reassuring. He felt warm and safe with Wade and none of that had anything to do with how Wade was determined to not only respect Spiderman’s identity, but defend him against what anyone else had to say about the subject. Nope. Not at all.

Jamison slammed one of the photos onto the desk and Peter jumped—and then stared, confused. It wasn’t one of his best works; the lines were blurred and it was difficult to see what was going on. Why would Jamison draw attention to t his one?

“See that, Eddie?” growled Jamison. “This is the worst of Parker’s photos. And this,” he added as he slammed down another one—showing Iron Man and Black Widow in battle with a faceless (literally) man, “This is the quality he usually brings me. You want his job? Do it better.”

Peter first glowed at the rare (exceptionally rare) praise until he realized the other man wanted his job. Why? The Bugle didn’t even pay that much, and Peter knew for a fact that they negotiated to sell the photos to other newspapers and sites. He cringed away from the sudden death glare he was getting from the other man.

“Parker, the printer’s acting up again,” growled Jamison.

Peter didn’t have to be told twice. “Yes, Sir,” he said quickly retreating from the office. Beth looked up and smirked at him. “You knew,” he whispered, feeling betrayed.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course I knew. Just as I know that he’ll be hired anyway, because Jamison loves his turn of invective phrase. And when you’re done with the printer I need help with the website.”

Peter nodded jerkily and went to get a set of the company over-alls that they used for the printing press in the basement. The thing was old, and was always jamming. It was easy enough to fix—and messy enough that only people at the bottom of the hierarchy (Peter) were sent to do it. He cleared the old blockage and closed the lid before jumping back at the sight of Eddie staring at him.

Eddie regarded him through narrowed eyes. “How do you do it?” he demanded suspiciously.

“I—uh, I take out the old paper to clear the blockage before refilling with new paper,” said Peter warily as he moved, cautiously, towards the door. He didn’t understand why he was suddenly sharing a room with Eddie—the man looked at him like he was scum and his senses were giving a low-level, irritating buzz.

“Not that,” said Eddie. His tone was casual. His body language was anything but. “I mean the pictures.”

Peter was even more confused. “The pictures? Well, the programming does most of the work—”

“The pictures you take,” growled Eddie through clenched teeth. “How do you know the best places to be?”

Oh. Oh. Peter nervously fidgeted with the safety goggles he was wearing. “I work at Stark Industries,” he said, “and they’re pretty good about assistants taking odd breaks as long as all the work gets done.”

“What does that—oh.” Eddie regarded Peter with a little bit more respect. “So you use the information you get at work to know when and where to go.”

“It’s not secret information,” Peter said quickly. He didn’t want anyone to think he was stealing secrets from Mr. Stark. “They announce it over the intercom. The only times I can’t go is when they’re expecting something to attack the Tower and lock it down with everyone inside.” The buzz wasn’t diminishing, and Peter swallowed. “I’ve got to—I’ve got to go,” he said quickly before fleeing.

He carefully hung the ink stained over-alls back up, grabbed his bag, and clocked out before leaving. He fled the building and then sighed as he trudged back home. He had some money from Jamison—but he was going to have to use it for the rest of his rent, some food, and some more medical supplies. His first aid kit was dangerously low, and he didn’t have anything to eat at home. The food he’d gotten at Oscorp was already wearing thin. Not for the first time, he cursed his quick metabolism.

“Petey-Pie!” called a familiar voice.

Peter whirled to see the familiar red and black figure coming towards him. “Wade!” he said happily right before he was squeezed in a hug.

“Oh, Petey-Pie! It’s been forever since I hugged you!”

Peter reached around the mercenary to hug him back and felt tense muscles relaxing. “You liar,” he said fondly. “It was just four o’clock this afternoon.”

“Do you know how many chapters that was Petey?” whined Wade. “I need my Peter fix!” He rubbed his masked cheek against Peter’s bare one and the stitches rasped against his face.

“Chapters?” he asked in confusion. “Are you reading a book?”

“I’d tell ya, Pete,” said Wade as he held the smaller man, “but you’d think I was crazy.”

Peter chuckled and gently squeezed in a return hug. “You are crazy,” he said fondly.

Crazy enough to believe he could change.

Crazy enough to believe Spiderman had a good reason for keeping his identity secret.

Crazy enough to get close to Peter Parker.

“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Wade said.

Peter leaned back enough to where he could look into the whites of Wade’s mask. “Who says it’s a bad thing?” he challenged. “I—”

“So this is how you get your information,” said voice, dripping with disgust. Peter broke way enough to see Eddie behind them. The raw disgust on his face was enough to make him take a step back, and the mere sight brought back that low-level warning buzz. “Fucking the freaks.”

“Hmm. Peter, who is this?” asked Deadpool as he tucked himself around Peter again.

“This is Eddie. I think he’s my coworker?” Jamison had mentioned something about Eddie wanting his job—but why? It just didn’t pay that much, and no one like to wrangle the printer.

“Oh? Hello Eddie. I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’m hugging my baby boy right now.” The arm around Peter’s waist tightened slightly, and the other crossed Peter’s torso. Peter would have relaxed into the embrace—if he hadn’t been all too aware of the fact that Deadpool had just moved his hand closer to his sword.

Eddie put both his hands in his pockets—and Peter winced. Deadpool had once sliced the arms off of a crook who did that (I swear he was reaching for a gun, and you’re not bullet-proof Spidey!) and Peter waited anxiously to see what would happen. Eddie simply left his hands there, and chuckled.

The sound was disturbingly similar to what Norman had uttered as Harry was recovering from nearly dying in the office.

“I just want to get an edge, that’s all,” Eddie said with a sly grin. Without looking at Peter he asked, “Peter, do you believe in the concept of fair play?”

“Um—yes?”

“Do you believe that in a competition to see who is truly the best, both people should be on equal footing?

“…yes?”

The grin widened. “Excellent. Hey, Deadpool. How about you give me a heads up, next time shit’s going down?”

Deadpool tucked his chin into the crook of Peter’s neck and there was a slight change—an almost relaxation that left him somewhere between Deadpool and Wade. “Hmm. That does sound fair.” Eddie smirked. “But, I won’t do it. You upset my little Petey-Pie, and the only reason you’re still breathing is because Spidey Senpai would be mad at me.” He rubbed his cheek against Peter’s again. “And just as Baby Boy believes in fair play, he also believes in honesty. Don’t you Baby Boy?”

“We—well, it’s always important to try to be truthful,” Peter said. He couldn't tell anyone he was Spiderman—but he didn’t deny it either. Actually, he was more careful that it didn’t come up. He wasn’t sure if that counted as lying or not.

Deadpool heaved an exaggerated sigh. “There you go. If Spidey asked Petey-Pie if I killed someone, Petey would tell the truth. So you live. Now live somewhere I’m not tempted.” He took his gloved hand away from Peter’s shoulder and made shooing motion with it. Eddie growled—but left. Peter let out a low, slow breath and relaxed as Wade cuddled him close again. “I don’t know how to say this, but you need a bodyguard.”

Peter really wouldn't put it past Eddie to ambush him in an alley on the way home. While he could fight off the other reporter—he couldn't do it without telling people he was Spiderman. “True,” he said. He looked up at Wade’s chin. “Want to come shopping with me? I got paid today.”

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool

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letsperaltiago · 4 years

Text

one single thread of gold tied me to you

From the very first time Jake mentions her name, Karen sees a thread of gold tying him to Amy. In other words: a series of small moments in which Jake is talking to Karen about Amy.

Jake talking to Karen about Amy throughout their relationship

Read here or on AO3

The new girl

“Anything exciting happening at work?”

“Nah,” Jake halts, pausing to think between bites of the dinner Karen has prepared for the two of them. Because he’s the only child (and the fact that he’s a huge momma’s boy) he tries to stop by Karen’s once a week. Either for a quick chat and a coffee or longer. If the latter includes dinner, which it often does, then it’s always a huge plus. Tonight’s visit is one of the longer ones, much needed, and of course dinner is a must.

“Or,” he takes back his prior dismissal. “Like, this new girl joined the squad last week, so that’s… exciting, I guess?”

Karen’s head perks up letting her son know that she’s indeed listening.

“Well that’s always a good thing. What’s her name?”

By then Jake is already busy chewing on another bite of her mom’s baked potatoes - a personal favorite of his. Then again any food his mom makes is his favorite.

“Amy Santiago. She seems cool enough, I guess. Then again she just arrived so I guess I’ll have to see.”

Although the world, more specifically Jake, isn’t aware of it yet, the spinning of his and Amy’s golden thread commences its journey here. Karen smiles to herself as this, she realises, is the perfect opportunity for her to pick a bit on her son who’s never shy of teasing her. Lovingly, of course.

“Maybe she’s cool enough to date?”

The statement immediately interrupts his before eager chewing, a press on his entire body’s pause button, and earns Karen a deadpan expression as answer to her so-called proposition.

“Mom, please.”

There’s small smile on his face as he knows his mom is out to pester him. “Charles already went all Cupid on us when she arrived, so the last thing she needs is me hitting on her. Plus,” he’s back to being chewing on a mix of potatoes and meat, “I don’t even know her.”

“Well that’s just a matter of time, honey.”

Having nothing else to add he figures a shrug must be answer enough.

“Anyways,” he looks back up from his plate to his mother. “How’s Carla?”

Rivalling close friends

For her son’s birthday Karen has invited the squad over to her place for a celebratory dinner. At this point, since they’re good at dropping by if they’re ever in her neighbourhood or nearby for work, she’s familiar with most of the people Jake spends 95% of his time with - this with an exception of Amy and Holt.

They’re setting the table while Jake gives her one last quick rundown of the 99th precinct’s squad, so Karen is sure of who the different people are.

“… And Amy, besides Holt, is the last one to have joined the squad. She’s that super neat, kinda annoying one, I’ve told you about. You know, the one who tells me that I can’t eat in her car, and constantly corrects my grammar.”

“I thought you liked her?” He can’t see tell, since he’s busy setting the table, but Karen frowns finding it unlikely that her son suddenly has something against a colleague he most of the time spoke so highly of.

“I do, mom and that’s what’s so annoying. She’s the worst and best of all worlds...” He pauses in the middle of putting down a plate giving himself some time to turn over his thoughts. “… I mean, she probably is my best friend at this point, besides Charles, yanno? But please don’t tell him I said that. His little heart can’t take it.”

“Because of jealousy or because he’s dying to see you and Amy together?”

“Both,” Jake chuckles shaking his head in disbelief of the fact that he puts up with this situation daily.

Karen knows Jake’s “brother from another mother”, how the little man had introduced himself the first time she met him, very well and can’t hold back a chuckle at the very vivid mental picture of a both jealous but also over the moon Charles.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

It brings an even wider smile to his face upon seeing his mother pretending to lock her lips and throw away an invisible key. Okay, maybe his mom is his best friend, but Amy and Charles are a close second.

Sadly Amy has fallen sick and never makes it to the birthday dinner, but upon arrival Rosa hands him a pretty gift bag with a tiny card and impeccable handwriting that says: Happy birthday, Pineapples ;) Inside the bag he finds the limited edition Die Hard 2: Die Harder-poster that had smashed his heart to pieces when someone had outbidded him for it on eBay. Little had he known it was Amy, sitting just a few feet away by her desk opposite of him, who’d outdone his bid with a sly smirk on her face. A smile which she could hide behind the big computer screen.

The smile on his face is impossible to hide and he immediately sends her a text:

‘ur gift made me die hard!!! guess ur not so bad after all ;) all kidding aside thank u so much and get well soon <3’

Later that night after everyone has left, he’s helping his mom cleaning the kitchen. Suddenly she hands over a homemade doggy bag with leftovers from the dinner.

“Don’t you think sweet, sick Amy deserves this after the gift she gave you?”

Her smirk doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jake of course agrees and later, on his way home, he drops it off at Amy’s place. It being late and not wanting to wake her up, he leaves it on her doorstep and sends her a text for her to see whenever she wakes up:

‘the bag on ur doorstep is not a bomb but a care package from mother peralta. hope ur feeling better but if u dont can i have your desk at work?’

A few days later Karen texts him a picture of a beautiful thank you card with the infamous, neatly Santiago style-written message thanking her for the thoughtful gesture. Jake smiles to himself and replies with a simple: ‘shes a good 1’

Unconsciously developing feelings

He never explicitly tells her. Still, Karen has her suspicions and they only grow every time her son mentions Amy’s name. Sooner rather than later it becomes very clear to her: her son would go to great lengths for his partner - even though he isn’t ready to acknowledge it yet.

“Mom, there’s no way I’m losing my car to her. I’m gonna take her on a date and she’s going to hate it and i’m going to love it- I mean… love her misery,” he corrects himself.

Karen is leaning against the doorframe to his still unaltered childhood bedroom, where Jake is currently rummaging through boxes containing a mix of childhood memories, dust and worthless nick-nack.

“You don’t happen to still have those old pictures of me and Jenny Gildenhorn, do you? I want to find an exact replica of Jenny’s hideous blue dress to torture Amy with.”

Knowing of Jake’s repressed, yet to be realised feelings, because a mother does know best, Karen rolls her eyes. He doesn’t notice. Probably because he has his head buried under his bed looking for more boxes and childhood treasures. Telling him to look for acknowledgement of his feelings for Amy while he’s down there is almost too tempting, but Karen manages to bite her lip. Hopefully he’ll see it himself one day… Or just keep talking the way he already does about her, even when complaining; it’s always with some kind of admiration. Karen sees the little twinkles in his eyes whenever the raven haired detective is brought up in a conversation.

To Amy’s sheer luck, Karen of course has loads of childhood pictures stored in a box in the garage and she gets to sit by knowingly as Jake searches multiple internet websites for the most horrible, blue, 80s dress possible. “Oh, mom… She’s going to hate this so much. Amazing.”

She doesn’t say anything but smiles knowingly as her son sits on her couch, laptop in his lap, a boyish smile telling her that he is up to no good as he plans the (best) worst date for his “just a good friend”.

Pining

Everything seems harder at the moment. At least harder than what he’d like, Jake thinks to himself as he lies in bed, feeling tipsy from the few beers he had a Shaw’s. He knows he should just sleep but for some reason he can’t. Instead he tortures himself by staring at the ceiling which is definitely spinning - just a tiny bit though, he tries to convince himself.

He’s just come back from being undercover, and although it was kind of fun and definitely exciting in more ways than one, deep down inside he can’t deny that a tiny part of him had hoped Amy by now would give them a chance. It’s not that he’d expected her to break up with Teddy for him - it was her life to control after all. Not his. Although there was no shame in dreaming; dreaming that she’d welcome him back to the 9-9 with a slow motion run and kiss that would blow them both away, telling him that Teddy and his pilsners were out of the picture and that they belonged together; all this time they’d been destined to belong to no one else but each other.

Alas this wasn’t the case and he returned from the mafia to a:

“I’m still with Teddy.”

The short sentence plays over and over in his head like a broken record he can’t turn off. The worst soundtrack of his life - without a doubt. Suddenly his phones rings, interrupting his spiralling thoughts.

“Hi, Mom,” he mumbles not hiding the fact that he’s exhausted, physically as well as mentally, and tipsy.

“Hi, honey. How did your first day back go?”

“It was... fine. Good to see everyone.”

Good to see Amy, Karen thinks before she does a double take when she picks up on her son’s voice clearly representing a moody side of him she, or anyone, rarely gets to see.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, It’s-” he starts out not wanting to get into it, because feelings are messy and he always ends up being the hurt one anyways… But on the other hand, he thinks, his mom will figure out either way - if she hasn’t already. Perhaps his lack of soberness also takes part in his sudden honesty.

“Amy,” he sighs.

“Is everything all right with her?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. I just-” he pauses. “She’s with this guy and-”

“You wish she wasn’t?” Karen beats him to it and finishes the sentence for him.

“Yeah or- I don’t know. I want her to be happy but...” he sounds utterly defeated to a point that hints at teary, she can tell even though she can’t see him. In that moment Karen wants nothing more than hug her little boy. “I really like her, mom.”

His voice never breaks entirely but it’s a fine line he’s walking throughout the entire conversation. Everything pours out of him; he’s a book of sentimental secrets opening up about his Achilles’ heel for the first time and all his mother can do is listen as he describes his favorite parts of Amy (which is pretty much everything): everything from the way her dark ponytail swings back and forth with purpose when she walks to a crime scene to how, when they’re out drinking with the squad, she always get him a beer whenever she gets up to get herself one.

It’s almost as if the spinning of the golden thread, still unknown to the world, between him and Amy is slowly choking him.

“I want her to be happy, mom… I just-” he almost dozes off before finishing the sentence but fights through it and it’s all at once incredibly endearing and heartbreaking to Karen who’s still listening from her end of the line.

“... I just wish she would be happy with me instead.”

New couple

It’s truly unbelievable. Jake can’t believe he’s about call his mom to tell her: tell her that he’s with Amy now.

It’s been a month now; a month of him being with Amy and being so very happy he still can’t believe he’s been spending all this time not feeling like this. However, not wanting to rush things or put any pressure on either of them, simply enjoying being together, no one else but the squad knows about them.

Them. Him and Amy. A thing.

Just thinking about him and Amy that way, it almost makes him dizzy of pure disbelief. There had been so much buildup, such a long history of back and forth, bad timing, but all that aside now here they were. Amy Santiago was his girlfriend. Maybe that is the thought that causes his heart to take on a way too quick beating pattern and the hand holding his phone to become clammy. Now is the time though and he doesn’t hesitate to hit his mom’s contact. It rings. Jake can clearly hear his heart thump loudly against his ribcage. Should he be this nervous?

One time.

Two times.

Thre-

“Hi, honey,” his mom’s warm chipper voice interrupts the monotone ringing instantly making his lips spread into a small smile and heart take a break from the irrational thumping.

“Hey, mom,” he starts pacing around his apartment in attempt of diverting all the energy and emotions rushing through him, unconsciously bringing him everywhere from his bed to his kitchen.

“So it’s actually been a little while now… And I haven’t said anything since I didn’t want to rush anything but,” he cuts the sentence in two with a deep breath. “So, like… Amy and I are dating... together... her and I,” he starts rambling and wow he really should’ve written this down first. Karen doesn’t let it go on for too long though too excited to not say anything.

“Honey, I’m so so happy for you two! And it was about time that you finally told me!”

Jake’s pacing stops on the spot.

“What do you mean “finally”?”

“Oh, Jake... Sometimes I think you forget that mothers know everything. Plus you’re not very good at hiding… bruises,” she clears her throat, emphasizing what she’s really saying while imagining her son blush on his end of the line. “Also you’ve been visiting less and less, which means someone else has to take up your time.Someone who is even cooler than your very own mom, someone who makes you this gitty and nervous to talk about… It had to be her you were calling about.”

The smile in her voice is clear as day, but Jake is still baffled trying to come up with an explanation or the very least a decent answer. There is none, he quickly abandons the plan and instead lets out a happy huff.

“She’s really cool, mom. So cool. The last month has been like… the best. I don’t know how else to describe it. She’s the best.”

Compared to the defeated and heartbroken man she spoke to all those months ago, after his return from being undercover, this is a whole new version of her son that she’s longed to see. Karen can’t physically see him but can still clearly tell he’s flipped the page and is taking on a better chapter of his life.

Early relationship

It’s another night at his mom’s. Although the motivation behind the visit is a tiny bit different than usual this time. Sure, they’re gonna talk and have a nice dinner prepared by Karen as per usual, although tonight the mother has to nurse a whiny Jake who’s missing his dear but very out of town for the week-girlfriend. And the experience feels… mixed.

“Dinner is ready!”

No response.

She looks up from where she’s just carefully put down a sizzling pan to see her son back against the one arm of her armchair with his legs svung over the other. Physically he might be close but mentally he’s so far away, clearly more focused on whatever is going on on his phone’s screen.

“Jake,” she tries again but rather than giving his mother a reply Jake start typing as if nothing or noone was within miles of him. Karen can’t help but feel like she’s raising a teenager all over again, a teenager with the attention span of a goldfish, although this time her son is actually in his late 30s, lives by himself and has a girlfriend. So little yet so much has changed about him.

“Jacob,” she tries with her more more stern voice. She knows what he’s doing, texting Amy, and even though it’s cute he needs to snap out of it. At least for long enough to eat. He finally reacts and looks in her direction. Realization hits him which immediately prompts him to push himself out of the seat.

“If you stop eating you won’t even be alive to see her when she comes back.”

He deserves to be teased, he figures.

“I’m sorry. It was a text from Amy and I just wanted to reply right away. I just really miss her, I guess... and this is the closest we’ll get to talking today since she’s busy with her family, so...”

He leaves his phone behind on the coffee table, implicitly letting his mother know she’s got his (somewhat) full attention from now on.

“It’s so weird. We’ve only been together for like...” he counts in his head. “... 5 months now, but I already can’t stand being away from her for too long. Am I insane?” he drops down into his usual seat by the dinner table, almost in defeat but Karen is quick to rescue him in his moment of overdramatic despair.

“No you’re not, I assure you.”

Karen grabs his hand to stroke it comfortingly. She knows her son didn’t mean to be rude, didn’t mean to ignore her and she loves how much he’s opened up about his emotions since getting together with Amy.

“It’s a good sign that you care so much, but just remember that distance makes the heart grow fonder and it’ll feel even better when she comes back… and until then you can let your old mom entertain you.”

They share a chuckle because they both know what that means.

“Did you get ice cream?” he asks.

“Strawberry, chocolate chip and cookie dough… and to top it off: Die Hard is ready to play the second we’re done eating and doing the dishes.”

It’s a little tradition of theirs: their shared comfort snack plus movie-combo.

“You know me so well,” Jake smiles almost forgetting about missing Amy.

If not for the rest of the week then at least for a couple of hours.

Going steady

This week is a a lot different from the usual. While it’s not every single week they actually manage to see each other or even get the time to talk, Karen knows for sure that she won’t hear from her son for at least a couple of days. Jake is away on a cruise with Amy, and so besides the few pictures he’s texted her of them eating shrimp in bed (she wonders how he talked Amy into that) and a huge seagull stealing some of Amy’s fries, Karen doesn’t expect a whole lot of her son’s attention that week.

Which is why she is extremely surprised when her phone rings, her son’s picture and name displayed on her phone, in the middle of the night. Yes, the element of surprise is of course due to the fact that she knows he’s busy being away with Amy, but also much due the time at which he calls.

01:21

A mother’s undeniable fear and worry for her child never goes away, no matter how old said child is, and it now creeps in making her fear that the worst has happened. What could possibly lead him to call this late? She frantically grabs her phone from her night stand.

“Jake, it’s in the middle of the night. Is everything okay?” She doesn’t mean to come off as accusing but she’s definitely trying to get to the bottom of the mystery right away.

“I love her.”

It falls from his lips, very out of nowhere, and it’s hard to tell within what context it is to be interpreted. Interlacing with his voice is the sound of crashing waves and a strong breeze making Karen wonder where her son finds himself.

“Honey, what do you mean? Where are you?”

Maybe she should’ve understood right away, it was obvious, but not only was she sleeping just seconds ago but the background noise on his end of the line only makes the whole scene way more confusing than it already is.

He breathes, out of breath almost as if he’s been running. “I’m outside. On the deck. And I love her, mom.”

“The deck?”

“No,” he pauses catching his breath. “Amy. I told her… Or she told me first and then I told her back. Nothing has ever felt more right.”

That makes way more sense, Karen thinks although still quite unsure of exactly why he’s calling her. All that aside her heart is flooded with happiness, when she realises her son is not out of breath from running or crying, but rather all the emotions he must be feeling.

“Aw, Jake. I’m so happy for you. I know how much she means to you.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah… You’ve changed so much throughout your relationship with Amy and it’s only for the better. You were already wonderful, you’re my son after all, but she brings out so much more good in you. This was only a matter of time. I think you’ve loved her for longer than you think.”

Another silence allows the crashing waves and whistling night wind to make an appearance. Following words almost fall off his lips in a tremble but Karen can tell it’s because he’s moved and is trying to collect himself, his emotions and thoughts. This is a big step for him - she knows.

“I have. And I don’t think I wanna stop again.”

Their talk lasts a few more minutes; just long enough for Jake to explain that he couldn’t sleep, too excited about the fact that he loved Amy Santiago and, even better, she loved him! Instead of staying in bed, restless and thus risking waking up Amy, he’d carefully disentangled himself from his girlfriend’s grip and decided to go for a night stroll. Next thing he knew he was calling his mom’s number.

“I should probably go, mom. I don’t want Amy to wake up alone.”

They say their goodbyes and when Karen finally gets to meet his daughter-in-law a few weeks later, at Jake’s chaotic birthday dinner, she is even more sure: their golden thread is so very strong.

Moving in together

The first time Karen visits Jake and Amy’s apartment (the words still make his stomach twist and turn with excitement every time he says it or even thinks it), Amy is out getting groceries for the dinner they’ll all be preparing together.

Jake proudly gives his mom a full apartment tour explaining where he’s added his Peralta-touch to the household while still praising his girlfriend’s taste in interior design. She has to laugh at the huge Die Hard poster discreetly hung on the inside of their closet door. Framed pictures of the couple together hung and standing around the apartment only makes Karen’s heart melt even more.

“How are you guys liking living together so far?”

They’re in the kitchen, Jake is preparing them both a cup of coffee.

“I mean, we already took constant turns crashing at the other’s place so it doesn’t feel that brand new, but still…” he pauses to smile and pours his mother a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee before continuing. “This is so much better. We share a home now. She is officially my home now, yanno?”

“I’m proud of you, Jakey,” Karen playfully ruffles her son’s curly hair, something she rarely gets to do but still immensely enjoys every time. It reminds her of when he was still a little kid and hits her with just how far he’s become. She’s not just proud: she’s so proud.

“Plus, now I get to annoy her 24/7, which is great,” he laughs and Karen playfully pinches his ear.

“Be nice to her, Jacob,” she’s chuckling too.

“I am! Our relationship is practically built on a foundation of pestering and messing with each other. Trust me; she loves it.”

Prison

“Amy… I miss her so much.”

As if the fact that her son has been wrongly accused and is facing 15 years in prison isn’t agonizing enough, Karen also has to suffer the pain it causes her to hear her son cry out to her over the very rare phone calls they get these days.

“When I say I’m afraid of never getting out of here-” he heaves between fallen, sobbed words; sobbed words which Karen knows he tries to subdue in order to not show the other inmates weakness. But it’s hard; impossible. “It’s mostly because I’m afraid of not seeing her again. Every time she visits-,” a sniffle “I’m always afraid that it’s the last time I see her. And all I wanna do is kiss her and hold her, but i just- I can’t. I miss her so so much, mom.”

Karen’s heart breaks alongside her son’s, even hours and miles between them, tears rolling down her red cheeks. She knows she has to be strong for him, and that it’s harder for him than for herself. Denying the ache and fear in every cell of her body is impossible though… But she has to keep her head up for him.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” Karen forces herself to stop crying when she speaks and will instead let the tears fall freely whenever he can’t hear it. “The squad is doing everything they can to get you out.”

“I know... “ he takes a deep breath and Karen can tell he’s trying to collect himself for good this time. “H-how is she?”

For a split second Karen considers lying, not telling him that she’s spent multiple nights consoling a crying Amy and even sleeping over at their place when the young woman was too tired to take care of herself. She considers telling him she’s fine, but she knows it’s pointless: Jake and Amy are two open books who tell each other everything. Just like Amy knows Jake has never been more afraid and seeks hope in every second he gets to be with or even just talk to her, Jake knows Amy is struggling though she’s a trooper and tries to fight through it as seamlessly as possible.

“I visited her on Wednesday and…” Karen bites her lip but eventually a sigh escapes her. “You know how she feels... It’s hard for both of you. But she’s strong, honey and she manages. And on the days where she can’t, I’m there with her. I promise.”

Silence.

He’s holding back tears again.

“I love you both, mom. So so much. You two are what is going to get me through this.”

“I love you too, Jacob.”

Their golden thread might be strained, but now is time for it to show its strength.

Engaged

He can’t put it into words, at least not properly, because how does one describe how it feels to be the happiest man alive? How does one describe such a wide, complex, incredible range of emotions? It’s impossible.

Instead he settles for a text.

It’s truly comical but also very much them: a picture of Amy in the evidence locker, still partially crying although of course also smiling as she shows off the shiny ring on her finger. It’s followed by the message:

‘MOM, I’M MARRYING HER!!!’

Later that night, tipsy after celebrating at Shaw’s, Jake and Amy facetime Karen. It’s safe to say that she gets a good laugh at 3-drink Amy showing off her new, favorite bling while Jake is all over her, placing small kisses to various parts of her face.

“Okay, you two... I’m going to hang up before this goes beyond a PG-rating. Once again congratulations. I love you both and can’t wait to see you soon.”

Married

Bomb threats, ruined cakes and a lost veil are just a few of the things that go horribly wrong on Jake and Amy’s wedding day.

Now, a few weeks later, all these tiny disasters seem to be long forgotten, almost as if they’d never happened.

“... But in the end we’re married and that’s all that matters,” Jake finishes telling his mother the tale of their chaotic but incredibly beautiful and unique wedding which was followed by a PG-rated version of their trip to Mexico.

The three of them are taking up the space of Karen’s living room as they chat and drink their usual coffee. Jake’s arm is slung around his new wife’s shoulders, fingers interlaced with a happiness and peace that warms the mother’s heart. Compared to the anxiety and sadness they all experienced during Jake’s time in Florida and then later on in prison, this moment in time is a major contrast. It’s a moment which Karen at times had feared she’d never be able to witness ever again. Yet here they were, the three of them together in the same room and Jake looked happier than ever. He was married to the love of his life, showing off a warm glow that he could thank both happiness and the Mexican sun for.

“I’m so happy for you two. It was always meant to be this way.”

Karen beams just as much as the married couple, feeding off the pure bliss they display in each other’s company. Amy perks up at the comment growing curious.

“Always?” she questions with a smile.

“The second he told me that the new girl was “pretty cool”, I knew something was meant to happen.”

Jake feels blood rushing to his cheeks even though said new girl is now his wife.

“Aw, babe,” Amy turns to him flashing a teasing grin. Every opportunity to tease must be put to good use. “I can’t believe you’ve been into me for so long. How embarrassing for you.”

“Hey!” He whines and it’s clear to see that he’s trying to fight the blush and embarrassment alas it’s already way too late. ”Be nice to your husband, Mrs. Peralta.”

“Not my fault that you’re so into me, Mr. Peralta.”

There’s a short pause in the conversation where Jake realises there’s no way out unless he uses her own teasing ways against her.

“I’m a lucky man… I guess,” he counters playfully and it earns him a just as playful slap to the shoulder.

“You guess?”

Amy is quick to pull away although doesn’t allow their fingers to untangle while she sends him a mock-pout.

“Be nice, Jake.”

Karen loves her son but will also, at any given time, take Amy’s side before his. Jake came to learn this the second he introduced the two women and they started gossiping about him. He would care to mind if it wasn’t for the fact that there was nothing better than his two favorite women getting along so well.

“I’m joking, babe,” he loses no time and before Amy can add anything he’s pulled her back into the nook of his arm, adding a kiss the top of her head - just for good measure (and because he’s crazy about her). “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Their golden thread has tied an everlasting knot.

Trying

Jake and Amy trying for a baby had been such a joyous announcement, and Karen will never forget the proud look on her son’s face the day he told her. Although tonight, said proud and happy expression is long gone, forgotten and dissolved by the many months of planning, trying and holding on to their hope.

Jake is once again, as so many times before, on his mother’s sand-colored couch with warm coffee in hand but this time with a look of despair painted across his pale face. While she’s been getting cookies in the kitchen he’s fallen into deep thought and doesn’t say anything for a while. Even after she comes back and sits down across from him. The silence might be needed, Karen thinks and, of course, respects it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t shake her to the core when the next thing he says seems to question every ounce of happiness he’s ever lived.

“What if all along I’ve been the wrong choice? A bad choice.”

His eyes doesn’t budge from the same spot, an old coffee stain on the couch, he’s been staring emptily at for the past minutes. Even as he speaks.

“What if she was supposed to be with someone else. Someone who can give her the family she wants… the family she deserves.”

It doesn’t even sound like a question at this point but rather a horrible fact he states in a moment of frustration and agony, and it ignites a fury within the mother because she knows it’s his anxiety and fear of abandonment speaking. She knows that their love is way bigger than that.

Things are far from easy right now. On the other hand Karen hasn’t witnessed them fight and overcome every obstacle imaginable, everything from a stupid mattress to being sent away to both Florida and prison, only to come to this. This isn’t the tip of the thread. A golden thread isn’t spun without reason. It’s spun for the fated.

“Has Amy ever made a bad choice?” she asks.

For the first time in a long time Jake actually looks at his mom. He pauses but she knows he doesn’t have to think. Karen knows that in his eyes Amy can do no wrong.

“No… I just-”

“Okay, so do you honestly think that her wanting and fighting for a baby with you is a bad choice? Even if it doesn’t come easy.”

There’s another silence, longer this time, which hopefully means that something resonates inside his head even though Karen knows it’s a dark and confusing place right now.

“No, I guess…”

“No, don’t say “you guess”. You know, Jake Peralta. You love Amy and she loves you. I know it seems like life keeps on throwing you curveballs and I wish it wasn’t so, but trust me when I say that it’s not because it’s a wrong or bad choice. You being with Amy is the best, most right doing I’ve ever witnessed, and I’m so proud of it. Stop doubting yourself. Your love is too good for that. You’re too good for that, honey.”

Her voice had started out a bit rough, just to make sure to get her point across, but by her the last sentence it has grown soft like butter and Jake can’t help but fall into his mother’s arms. He knows she’s right and it’s in moments like these that, moments where he wants to give up, he’s glad to have her to fight off his demons.

“I just want to give her everything she deserves, mom,” he mumbles into her shoulder, still holding on for dear life; so closely that Karen swears she can feel his heart breaking against her chest. “And I know I’ve been hesitant about it in the past, but now I just-”

Karen feels him let go of her and straighten his back. His eyes are shiny and there’s so much hope but also hurt in them.

“... I really want to be a dad. I really do. And then I wanna do it right.”

Karen knows what he’s hinting at and the sentiment is so valid even though she’s back together with Roger and their father-son relationship has grown stronger.

“You will be, honey. One way or another,” she whispers and reaches out to stroke his cheek. “And you will be the best. I promise you.”

Pregnant

Mother knows best, Jake can’t help but think on the magical evening Amy tells him the best thing he’s ever heard: she’s pregnant. The world seems to flourish around him like never before.

Of course the first person he wants to tell is his mom, but him and Amy quickly agree on keeping the amazing news to themselves, or at least until their baby has hit the safety that the 12-week mark comes along with.

Until then Jake and Amy plan on how to break the news to Karen (and Roger, of course) and Jake almost can’t believe it when the day finally arrives. Their 12-week check was just yesterday, and to everyone’s relief and joy their baby is growing as they should and thriving in their mother’s womb. They both shed a tear and ask for an extra set of ultrasound pictures to give to the future grandparents - both on his and Amy’s side.

During dinner with Karen and Roger the following day, Jake is on the verge of bursting, yelling out the news the very second his parents arrive. Although a humbling squeeze of the hand from his wife keeps him in check until dessert. Here the hand squeeze feels different and Jake knows now is the time.

“By the way,” Jake gets up and heads to the kitchen to get another tub of ice cream. “We have a little extra surprise for dessert…”

Roger and Karen frown in unison as both of them are yet to finish what’s already in their respective bowls. Jake ignores it and comes back with a tub of…

“Lime ice cream?” Roger asks, clearly confused by the very specific flavour.

“I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Karen chuckles, always being the one to lighten the mood.

“Well,” Jake smiles with content as he sits back down. “I promise you: you don’t wanna skip this part. It’s the best.”

And so of course Karen is quickly hands on, pulls off the lid and is ready to dig in with her spoon but halts the second she gets to take a good look at the bucket’s content: a small piece of paper. Neither her or Roger understand a thing, and being too preoccupied by their confusion they fail to notice the wide grins on the other couple’s faces.

Karen takes the leap and digs out the picture quickly noticing something scribbled onto it with neat handwriting - Amy’s, of course.

Hi, grandma and grandpa. I’m now 12 weeks old and the size of a lime! I can’t wait to meet you <3

Karen feels her heart skip a bit, maybe even stop entirely for multiple seconds and looks to Jake and Amy for some kind of approval or… she’s not even sure of what. All she’s sure of is that she’s on the brim of exploding. Her son nods biting down on his bottom lip in excitement, and when she flips the piece of paper she’s met by the most wonderful picture she’s ever seen: their future grandchild, tiny as can be, in black and white, and completely perfect.

Karen tears her eyes away from her grandchild to look at her son to be met by his almost trembling voice and shiny eyes.

“Good thing my mom was right when she told me that I would be a dad some day.”

Jake’s eyes are so sincere with tears threatening to spill as he holds his mother’s gaze talking directly to her, and it’s safe to say there’s waterfall’s worth of happy tears that evening.

Welcoming mac

The day Mac is born Jake feels as if his heart is suddenly beating and living outside of his chest in the shape of his son. There’s so much love even before their son officially arrives, but nothing can possibly top the feeling of holding him in his arms feeling the infant’s hand wraps around Jake’s thumb. Love is shooting through the roof and up to the moon. Never before has Jake felt so much love for someone’s he’s just met before and it’s scary in the best way.

He’s sitting in an armchair by Amy’s hospital bed, his wife fast asleep after the most exhausting hours of her life, when the door to their room pops open. He doesn’t even bother looking up at first as he’s too busy gazing lovingly at the bundle of love in his arms.

“Oh my goodness.”

Jake head perks up immediately recognizing the sound of his mother’s voice. By now she’s closing the door behind her, quietly.

“Hi, mom. Come say hi.”

Karen can hear his smittenness in his voice and sits down on a smaller chair next to him to better see her brand new grandson. It’s immediately clear as day that the newest Peralta is the perfect mix of both parents. Chubby cheeks, dark hair, full lips and a nose she’s gonna want to kiss over and over again.

“Meet McClane. Mac for short,” Jake informs her stroking his son’s chubby cheek.

“It’s perfect,” Karen clucks and follows suit stroking Mac’s other cheek. “He’s beautiful, honey. You must be so proud. I know I am.”

For various obvious reasons Jake has always struggled with acknowledging pride - even when he’s clearly felt it, he’s found it difficult to say it out loud or fully believe it. Today is different though and he wants to scream it from the rooftops: he’s so freaking proud of his beautiful baby son and his incredible wife.

He smiles fondly as he nods in agreement.

“I really am, mom. Proud of myself but especially of Amy. I’ll explain it further later but I Amy went into labor at the precinct, I was out helping with the blackout and almost missed the birth. I just barely got there before Mac was born and Amy managed everything like a pro. I can’t believe I’ve made a human with her. She’s the best… I’m so lucky.”

Jake looks at Karen sensing that she’s going to speak.

“I can’t imagine any other person for you than her, and together you’ve formed a beautiful little family, honey. One to be very proud of, so don’t forget to give in to that feeling, okay?”

Karen hand travels from sleeping Mac’s cheek to her son’s curly hair, on a mission to stroke it like she always would when he was a child and it prompts Jake to lean his head onto her shoulder. From his new vantage point he looks back at Mac, then Amy.

They’re his whole world, his two ends meeting and Karen can only sit by to admire the scene before her. Never has Karen felt more sure of the fact that there was always one single thread of gold tying Jake to Amy.

(And Mac).

#peraltiago #baby peraltiago #mac #fanfic #fanfiction #perlatiago fanfic #oneshot #pining #fluff #angst #happy ending #jake and amy #peralta #santiago #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #taylor swift #kinda hahha

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nazyalenskyism · 3 years

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Let’s Get Married 2

Let’s Get Married Part 2 (I've Been So Far Gone Lately)

Summary: Zoya and Nikolai get ready for a party while reflecting on the past.

Ao3: Let's Get Married Part 2

1 Year later…

“Have you seen my bowtie?”

“It’s on the bed.”

“Thank you!” Nikolai’s blonde head peeked into the bathroom where Zoya was applying the finishing touches to her makeup for the night, the skilled strokes of her red eyeliner matching her off-the-shoulder gown. “You look fiery,” he commented, grinning when she threw him a glare, “I’m just being honest.”

“You and honesty have never coexisted.”

“Actually, we were married for a while, but you know how the story goes. We both realized we wanted different things in life, and alas, we had to go our separate ways.”

Zoya shook her head, “with the way you’re joking around it seems like you’re not nervous anymore.”

“Please,” Nikolai said, leaning against the door jamb, “I’m considering commandeering Vasily’s private jet and whisking you away to the beach instead of going to the party.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that, I look amazing in a swimsuit, but we both know you can’t run away from this.”

“Is there anything you don’t look amazing in?” Zoya knew that he was looser with his compliments because his mind was focused on the plan for tonight, but that didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes at him anyways. “Besides, we both know I’d never actually do it, but it is fun to dream sometimes, I suppose.”

“Is it?”

“What, is the concept of possessing an active imagination too frivolous for your sensible self?”

“Ha ha,” Zoya replied dryly, “why dream about the impossible? It just leads to disappointment. Live in reality and life operates a lot more smoothly.”

“You know,” Nikolai said, studying her face, “being a pessimist instead of an optimist doesn’t make you right?” She didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like he could see something just below her surface. He was assessing her so intently, as if she’d shown him a new part of herself that he’d yet to solve, and now that he’d seen it he wouldn’t rest until he’d put together her pieces.

Zoya turned away from him, slipping on her rings, “I’m not a pessimist, I’m a realist.”

“That’s just what a pessimist who’s in denial says.” Nikolai pushed away from the doorway, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood to discuss the matter any further. “Do you want to help me?”

“No,” Zoya scoffed, taking a step towards him, “but I fear that I’ll end up helping you anyways. That’s always how it seems to be.”

“I thought the valiant Zoya Nazyalensky feared nothing?”

“You’re right, the only thing I truly fear is that one day you won’t run out of batteries and I’ll have to put up with your babbling for the rest of my life.”

“Why, Zoya! You think we’ll be friends for the rest of our lives?”

“Not friends,” she hissed, pointing the hairbrush at him threateningly, “you are like a nuisance that refuses to leave me alone. Like an orchid on a tree or a barnacle on a boat.”

“Did you just compare my likeness to that of a flower? You think I’m pretty, Nazyalensky?”

“Yeah you’re pretty. Pretty annoying.”

“Not your best,” Nikolai tsked, “but are you going to help me with this or not?” he held out his bow tie to her.

“Mr. I’m-flying-away-on-my-private-jet-to-my-private-island doesn’t have someone he can pay to do it for him?” she grumbled, snatching the fabric from him. Without her signature heels that elevated her to his height, the top of her head brushed his chin, her fingers tilting his jaw up so that she could better access his neck. There was nothing inherently intimate about what she was doing but Nikolai felt the need to break the tension he was feeling, or else he worried he might do something stupid.

“It’s not my private jet. It’s Vasily’s. Really, Zoya, if you want to be invited onto my stolen jet the least you could do is get the details right.”

“You’re awfully glib for a man who’s throat is an inch away from my eager fingers.” When he laughed in response to her fire, she snapped at him. “No laughing! I can’t get this perfect unless you’re still.”

“Fine,” he sighed, trying to distract himself from the overwhelming scent of wildflowers engulfing his senses.

“So, do you think Vasily is going to be there tonight?”

“Unfortunately, probably. Tamar did some digging and she thinks that he’s going to start cozying up to the board tonight.”

“It doesn’t matter if he is, you’ve been planning this for years, Nikolai. Vasily’s only now trying to take control of the company because your father is stepping down.”

“Being forced out, but yes, you’re right.”

“When am I not,” she scoffed, pulling back and admiring her handy work. “You already have them in your pocket, tonight is all about reminding them why they would be better off with you instead of Vasily.”

“It’s unrealistic to assume that my father and Vasily won’t mess up the evening, especially if they think I pose an actual threat to Vasily automatically getting the company.”

Zoya sighed, brushing past him to sit on her bed. He took this as a cue to flop down next to her, dread and adrenaline starting to pump through his veins. “Do you remember when you told me you were leaving the firm to join your father’s company?”

***

That day had been about six months after Nikolai first invited Zoya to brunch with him. It had been pouring rain all day, and by the time lunch rolled around she was genuinely worried about where he was

He was never late to work and when she asked his receptionist, she said that he had nothing scheduled. She was halfway through punching his number into her phone when the door to her office opened without warning, and in strolled Nikolai. He’d slipped into the armchair at the corner of her office, completely quiet without so much as a greeting. She was too irritated with him to indulge in what was either a setup to get her to ask what was wrong or one of his rare displays of emotion.

After thirty minutes of staring mindlessly at her monitor without a word from Nikolai, Zoya snapped. She excelled in a lot of things but being patient was not one of them.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just like the view from your office.” She finally looked over at him, watching his fingers trace mindless patterns on the window glass with a frown.

“Cut the bullshit, Nikolai.”

His fingers began tapping against the glass now and his head fell back to look at the ceiling. Anything to avoid her. “I made a move.”

What was that supposed to mean? “Okay,” she said slowly, “and?”

“And you’re not going to be happy with me.”

“When am I ever happy with you?” Zoya joked, trying to lighten the mood, but it was his skill set, not hers and he just shook his head in reply.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firm but not harsh as she stepped in front of the glass, forcing him to look at her. “What is it?”

“I resigned from the firm.” His voice was quiet, “I told my father I was going to come work at Ravkan Industries. I start on Monday.”

Oh. “And?”

“And I’m leaving. Going to work with my brother and father. Leaving the office. Leaving…” He trailed off but she finished the sentence in her head, leaving you all. She’d known it was inevitable, he’d told her about his desire to save the company from the leadership of his family, and she’d spent months listening to how he aligned himself with board members so that he could one day win them over, as they’d gotten closer and closer as friends. The problem had always been that no amount of sweet talking and promising bright futures would matter if they didn’t believe him, and to get them to believe him, he needed to work amongst them and show them that he could deliver on his promises.

“Leaving us, is that what you're worried about? You know that Genya will come to the company as soon as you’re in charge, the twins will go with you, and David already works there.” When he didn’t say anything, Zoya tapped away at her keyboard, turning the monitor to face him. “Great. They’re hiring in the legal department.”

He finally spoke, “I can’t ask you to leave.”

“I don’t remember you asking me to. Anyways, I’m not leaving because of you,” Zoya hummed, her eyes still trained on the website. “They have surprisingly good benefits at Ravkan Industries, not to mention that it’s way closer to my apartment, and it pays better.”

“And you’re sure about this?”

Zoya hit a few keys, and turned towards him. “Are you sure about your choice?”

“Yes.” There was no doubt about it.

“So am I.”

“We’re really doing this.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a “we,” Lantsov.”

“Come on now. Once you get the job, our status as partners in crime will be solidified.”

“Partners in crime,” Zoya mused, “I don’t hate the sound of that. And what makes you so sure I’ll get the job?”

“You’re easily the best candidate they’ll meet. I’ll be surprised if they don’t offer you the job on the spot.”

She squinted at him, “you’re flattering me now? What do you want?”

Nikolai laughed, “I can’t have faith in you? Must everything I say have an ulterior motive?” Is that really what she thought of him, that every interaction was manipulative, looking to exploit?

Zoya hesitated, then nodded slowly, “thank you.”

“What for?”

“For having faith in me.” A look of mischievousness played over her features now, “I know I’m the best but it’s good to know you’re aware of it too.”

“Can’t have anyone but the best as the Chief Legal Officer of my company.”

“Chief Legal Officer Zoya Nazyalensky and Chief Executive Officer Nikolai Lantsov,” Zoya sang, “I can drink to that.”

“You sure you can stomach working with me for another few years?”

Zoya pulled a face, “don’t remind me or else I’ll have to cancel my interview.”

“Your interview?”

She turned the monitor towards him, “I submitted my resume and now they’re already booking me in for an interview slot. They want to see me on Monday,” she said, glancing over at him.

“So by Tuesday, we’ll be working together again?” Nikolai grinned.

“Well, I’ll be in the legal department and you’ll be wherever nepotism gets you.”

“At the top, doing Vasily’s work,” Nikolai nodded.

“At least you’ll have a nice office I can take over.”

And that’s how they spent the rest of the day, bickering over how they were going to spend their time at Ravkan Industries, Nikolai glad that his transition to this new chapter of his life was going to be with Zoya at his side, he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

�� ***

“And now we’re stepping into another chapter of our lives,” Nikolai mused, gazing up at Zoya’s exquisite features.

She wrinkled her nose at him, “stop being so sentimental.”

“You started it!”

“Let’s go,” she grabbed his hands and pulled him off the bed. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll find you a new lover so you can stop dragging me to these functions instead.”

“I thought you loved these parties,” Nikolai teased, knowing full well that she detested them.

“You’re the only reason I go.”

“Thank you.” He enjoyed her presence more than she would ever know.

“Stop it,” Zoya huffed, rolling her eyes at him, “you’ve said that a thousand times today.”

“I just want to make sure you remember,” Nikolai smiled, following her out the door of her apartment, taking a quick second to brush his fingers over the secret nestled away in his chest pocket. Another chapter of their lives, indeed.

#my writings #zoyalai fic #let's get married

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #404

“death doesn’t answer when i cried for help”

The person you had the strongest feelings for dies, do you care? I'd be fucking devastated. It wouldn't feel real. Is there something you’re happy about at the moment? A few things. I'm still on that high of my APAP mask working, like I'm actually getting some fucking quality sleep, and I think I'm noticing the effects of my TMS therapy finally, too. My PTSD has most notably been much more bearable, and my interests are beginning to spread again. Do you want someone dead? No. Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? I mean yeah, I think that's pretty normal, even for someone without my issues. Have you ever fed or taken care of a stray animal? Oh, many times. What is something you tend to worry about? My health and future. What is something you do that is unhealthy? Sit at the computer for way too long. I'm absolutely certain my vision is as poor as it is partially because of me endlessly staring at screens. What is something you do that is good for you? I'm not afraid to prioritize my mental health. What last caused you to force a smile? I was watching a Mark video for the first time in a while and was just reminded of how much I love and appreciate that moron. What was the last video game you played? Was it fun? Because you said "video" game, I guess I'll exclude computer ones, in which case I'm pretty sure it was Silent Hill 2. Given it's one of my all-time favorite games, of course I think it's fun. It's one hell of an emotional ride. What is something not many people know about you? The fact I was a dancer for many years would probably surprise people once they have a good idea of me and what I like. What word describes your basic style? Lazy, honestly. I dress for comfort, and given that's usually just pj pants and a tank top... yeah, I don't put much effort into my clothing when I'm going most places. Have you ever been told you were going to Hell? She kinda beat around the bush, but yes. Have you ever wanted to kill yourself? On more than one occasion. If yes, what convinced you not to go through with it? Well, I did OD once, but on the other occasions, it was the fear of the unknown that deterred me. Have you ever rejected a guy, only to have him push the issue by asking “why?” and insisting that you just need to get to know him better? Omg no, thank god. I would NOT handle that well. Is there something that you believe everyone should do and you can’t believe that some people don’t do it (e.g., recycle or go to the dentist regularly)? I didn't know 'til a survey question asked it that there are people who don't brush their tongue when brushing their teeth. Like holy shit dude, there are SO many germs on your tongue, clean that shit. Regarding the last good choice (healthy choice, kind choice, selfless choice, etc.) you made, what was your real motivation behind it? Ummmm the nearest that comes to mind is I guess taking my meds? I mean I do that every single day, but it's still a healthy choice for me. The motivation was because I am very serious about doing what I can for my mental wellbeing. What is something that you have had to practice at to get the hang of it? If you can’t think of anything, that’s okay, what’s something you are currently practicing at and trying to master? I really can't think of something for the first half of the question, but I can tell you that right now I'm attempting to force a routine of applying a therapy technique called "opposite action" into my daily life, where you, well, do the exact opposite of what your depression tells you to not do. It is WAY harder than it sounds, but I'm doing it with reading 30 minutes a day! Have you ever gone to the store to buy something, like a video game, when it came out at midnight? Not to my recollection, no. Regarding the last novel you read, was there a romance included? If so, was it central to the plot? The last novel I finished, yes. It wasn't central to the plot. Have you ever done relaxation meditations or listened to relaxation guides or positive-thinking/healing recordings? No, except in therapy when different therapists wanted me to experiment with it during a session. They just don't work for me. Do you have any interests that are also often shared by children? Yeah. Those are the one I'm especially self-conscious about. there something that could be a solitary activity but you really only like to do it with other people (e.g., watching movies, playing video games, etc.)? Watching movies or TV. Are you satisfied with the interior design or decoration in your home? Or do you think it needs a total home makeover? A makeover would be nice... Is there something that you’d like to own but you can’t find it anywhere? If not, can you a remember a time when you wanted something? Did you ever end up finding it or did you eventually stop wanting it? OKAY SO I actually have seen this custom-made once long after deciding I wanted it, but it was RIDICULOUSLY expensive. There's a location in the Silent Hill games called Heaven's Night, and I'd love love LOVE to commission someone to duplicate the neon pink sign of it to hang in my room. Hopefully one day I could still do it. Who makes you smile the most? Probably my cat, honestly. What piercings do you want/have? I've talked about the piercings I have, but I'll talk about those I want. My #1 is absolutely collarbone dermals, but as I've explained a billion times, I want to lose weight so the bones are more prominent for the sake of contrast; you can't really see my collarbones now, so I just think it'd look pretty dumb and random to just have random piercings somewhere around there with no dimension. I also want way more in my ears, dermals in my back dimples also once I've lost weight, my right nostril for the dozenth time (but this time I'll wear a hoop), and while I'd absolutely adore an undereye microdermal as well, it'd be pointless with glasses. :/ What's your favorite website? KM is my pride and joy and really feels like my online home, so despite using sites like YouTube more, that 'ole RP site has to be my fave. Do you own a fish tank with fish? No. I had fish bowls (AWFUL idea) as a kid, but never tanks Do you like the movie 300? Never seen it. Do you pop your knuckles? NOOOOOOOOOOO. I absolutely hate the sound. It makes me cringe and shiver. Do you have Photoshop? Yes. It comes in the Adobe CC photography bundle I have. Do you use tinypic or photobucket? I used Photobucket back in the day. Now I just upload to imgur. What’s your favourite song from the 1980s? You're talking to someone who adores classic rock/metal, haha. How about the 1990s? There are way too many songs to choose from. Have you won anything recently? No. How often do you make Excel tables? What for? Never. What was the last baby animal you saw in the wild? There was a poor fawn as roadkill on the highway recently. :/ Are you always available or online? Preeeetty much. Do you have dietary restrictions? Or do you just eat what you like? I can eat whatever. Do you prefer gold, silver or steel jewelry? Or no jewelry at all? Steel. I'm allergic to silver, and I think steel is more subtle than gold. Have you been binge-watching any shows lately? If so, what? No. If you dye your hair, do you do it yourself or go to a salon? I do it at a salon. If you have any, do you like your in-laws? I don’t have any. Would it bother you, if your partner had cut contact with their parents? If they had a good reason, no. Have you ever wondered whether you were adopted? As a kid I did because I thought Mom was meaner to me than my siblings, lol. What’s the best physical feeling in the entire universe? ........... This question is a setup lmfao. Have you ever grown a berry bush? No. Have you done something new to your hair recently? No. It's been the same for quite a while. I wanna dye it badly. Do you have bad anxiety? If so, do you take any kind of medication for it? I'm diagnosed with generalized and social anxiety, so yeah. I take Klonopin once and day and Ativan as needed for attacks. One thing you’ve experienced that you thought you never would have? HA, the first thing to come to mind was being noticed by Mark by making a viral (in the community, anyway) gif of he and his doggy. I shit you not, I couldn't sleep for three days lmfao. What was the last thing someone said to you that kept repeating over & over in your head? That I gained fucking seven pounds in two months at my last doctor appointment. I wanted to scream. How often do you have late nights out? Never. I'm a homebody. If you could, would you work from home? Do you think that would make you more or less productive? No. It would absolutely make me less productive. If you had the ability to change the weather, what would you change it to right now? Cool with a nice breeze, mostly clear skies, crisp air... That'd be nice right now. Is there something that you really need to do, but can’t seem to get motivated to do it? I say it all the time: finish decorating my room. It's funny, because I KNOW I'll feel more at home and cozy with my bedroom more personalized. Most disturbing movie you have ever seen? Paranormal Entity. The ending was... a lot. Has a life goal or dream ever come true for you yet? If yes, what is it? If no, do you think you’ll achieve it? Not that I can think of. .-. I hope I can achieve some... Have you ever had food poisoning? No, thank God. What are you listening to? "The Man Who Made a Monster" by Dance With the Dead. Do you think there will be a WWIII? I find it inevitable at some point down humanity's future. People are too hateful for it not to eventually. Has anyone ever asked you if you were emo? Yeah. Has someone ever liked you that you never thought would? Maybe? Idk. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Yes, in some instances. Has one of your friend’s boyfriends ever tried to cheat on them with you? Yes, when I was around 12. And I let it happen. It's one of my biggest regrets. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Of course it is. Emotional abuse can cut just as deep as some physical blows, or even deeper. Do you shop at Sephora for make-up? No. Zelda: Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I'm actually not into TLoZ. Do you own a rosary? I did as a kid growing up in a Catholic Sunday school. If you were homeless, how would you cope? If I had no loved ones in my life and no sign of things getting better, I'm honestly preeetty sure I'd end my life.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''under the graveyard'' by ozzy osbourne

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nonstoplover · 4 years

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it's all an act ~ Zach Herron (requested)

request: "Can you write a zach x reader fanfic where Zach likes the reader A LOT but doesn't tell her which makes Jack annoyed so he flirts with the reader to get Zach jealous and tell the reader. Tyyyyyyyy" by @mirainthedark05

words: 2.3K

approximate reading time: 15-20 mins

a/n: aye kiddos i gOt A rEquEsT. i'm so happy, i love writing for you guys. i hope this met your expectations, love. i tried really hard. (and please consider the fact that i wrote it at 1am and english is not my main language). i still have to get more into this request writing thing, it's not as easy as it seems! but i do be enjoying it lots so i can't wait to continue doing it!! anyway babes i hope you enjoyed this sweet little nothing i put together. let me know what you think and please send in requests if you have any ideas you'd like to see written!

my masterlist

Jack's Perspective:

"Zach, you gotta tell her how you feel." I groan at my best friend who's laying on his bed, a frown still on his face from the previous complaint he made about how sad it is that (y/n)'s not his girlfriend.

"I can't," he sighs.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I don't want to lose her, and if she doesn't feel the same way, that's what's gonna happen. I know it," Zach shrugs.

"I already told you that there's a really high chance that she does like you back."

"You can't know that."

"And what if I do?"

"You're just saying things, Jack," he looks up at me, his eyes showing me anger.

"Ugh, you're so infuriating sometimes, Herron." I throw my arms in the air. "Anyway, all I can say to you then is that you shouldn't be surprised if a guy comes in the picture and sweeps her off her feet and you can just watch it happen from the sideline."

I exit the room to escape his stubborn suffering and his sullen huffs follow me in the air as my mind is still racing about how childish he can act at times. I want to help him more than anything, I know how much he likes her and I want him to be happy.

I slump on the couch still deep in thought, trying to come up with an idea to get the truth out of Zach in a way (y/n) can hear it. And as my mind replays the previous conversation, a lightbulb feels to light up inside my head.

A guy comes in the picture and sweeps her off her feet.

Maybe I should make Zach jealous! I have to make him actually realise how easily he can lose any chance he has right now with her. I have to make him fight. Even if it's me he's fighting. I can only hope that he won't be too mad at me.

(y/n)'s Perspective:

"Wow, (y/n), you look absolutely breathtaking today!"

I hear Jack's voice as soon as I enter the boys' house. A blush immediately creeps up onto my cheeks as I mumble a quiet thank you his way.

From the corner of my eyes I can see Zach's head snapping up and when I turn my glance there for a moment I can swear I see him glaring at the other boy, but the next moment it's gone.

Oh what I'd give to hear a compliment like this from Zach, I think as I sit down on the only free space on the couch, between Jonah and Jack, trying not to disturb the videogame the eldest boy played.

As soon as I'm comfortable, Jack moves and easily slides closer to me. My eyes stay focused on the floor as his arm moves uo to rest on the back of the sofa. He's not touching me at all, but still it's like his arm is around my shoulder and it starts to make me nervous.

Does Jack like me?

I hope that's not the case. I like Jack, but only as friends. Though we've never really been that close, and maybe this is the reason. But I just don't want to hurt him if he decides to actually make a move.

He never acted like this before. What has gotten into him?

As I try not to look at anyone, Jack speaks up once more, breaking the silence.

"I wish I was your mirror, so that I could look at you every morning."

My breath hitches in my throat. Did I hear it correct? What is going on? Is this a prank?

"Uhm, thanks, I guess." I glance at him, a small smile making its way to my face as soon as I lock eyes with his shining brown ones that mirror nothing but honesty and some kind of brotherly love, a mixture I already got quite used to from the three oldest boys.

Since I made friends with the band, Jonah, Corbyn and Daniel always seemed to look at me like a newly found little sister (though there's really not much of an age difference between me and them), whilst Jack and I never seemed to totally break the ice yet. We were great friends, but I could still feel the distance between us.

And with Zach? Well, I like him since we first met, but most probably my feelings are not returned. At least that's what all my pointless trying resulted in. He never made a move and whenever I tried to give him a sign, it went unnoticed. Or purposefully ignored. But other than that, he's like my bestest friend, and that's more than I ever imagined to happen so as long as I still have him in my life, I decided that I can manage to put my actual feelings aside.

Now as I'm staring in Jack's eye and I can see that the ice has broken and him and I got to the 'sibling zone', I'm finally sure that he only says these lines to make me laugh, and suddenly I calm down and manage to answer properly. "You're not quite bad yourself," I reach up to playfully ruffle his noodle-like locks.

He chuckles at my action before moving his hand from the back of the couch to my shoulder, pulling me into his side.

I snuggle closer to him, finding a comfortable position on his shoulder for my head. I can feel him take a deep breath in as his shoulder raise in the motion and then his voice is back again.

"It’s said that nothing lasts forever. Will you be my nothing?"

It's my turn to giggle now before I look up at the side of his face. He shoots a quick glance at me before turning his joyful eyes back on something in front of us.

"Do you make these up or did you memorise them from a shitty pickup line listing website?" I ask.

"Oh, hey, don't think I'm not capable of saying things like these by myself," Jack turns his head down towards me with fake offence on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry."

"And there's plenty more where that came from," he wiggles his eyebrow at me.

"I can't wait to hear them all."

I almost burst out laughing, and I can see the exact same thing in his eyes as well, but we manage to stay silent and turn our attention back to the tv screen, watching as Jonah still plays the game.

Jack's fingers mindlessly play with the hem of my t-shirt's sleeve and we're sitting in absolute peace right until a few moments later Zach jumps up from the armchair he was sitting on and storms out of the room.

"Where are you going?" I call out after him, wide eyes staring at the doorway he disappeared at.

"I need some fresh air," he shouts back and even in that short sentence I can hear his anger.

Though before I could ask him about it, the front door slams closed with a loud bang, making my body shake in surprise.

"What has gotten into him?" I look up at Jack only to feel even more confused a second later.

His eyes shine with excitement instead of the worry similar to mine I expected to see.

"What?" I ask in confusion.

When I get no reply, I turn around to look at Jonah, but it's pointless as he's still deeply concentrating on the game, not noticing the mundane things happening around him.

I look back at the curly haired boy before shaking my head. "I think I'll go check on him."

"Yeah, great idea!" Jack nods vigorously right away and I frown at him, still trying hard to understand what has gotten into him as well.

His smile and shining eyes don't halt for a single moment as he's watching me and in the end I simply shrug, moving to stand up and follow the youngest band member.

I find him only a couple seconds later, he's sitting on the stairs in front of the front door.

"Hey," I say as gently as I can manage.

Zach mumbles something in response, but it's absolutely incomprehensible.

"How are you?" I try to make him speak up, maybe even fill me in with the reason(s) behind his weird and sudden storming out.

"Do you like him?" He asks back immediately, confusing me even more.

"Who?" I frown at him in thought.

"Jack."

"Yeah, of course, he's pretty nice." I nod, still not understanding where he wants to go with this.

I can feel his body stiffen next to mine and glancing down I can see his fists so tightly squeezed that the knuckles are turning white.

"If my opinion even matters, I don't think you should get together with him." Zach speaks a minute later.

I almost choke on air as his words enter my mind.

"Why would I even want to get together with him?" I exclaim after managing to kinda pull myself together from the shock his question caused in me.

"You just said you like him." Zach finally turns his head towards me, a frown crossing his forehead.

"Yeah, as friends. Or as a brother. I thought you meant it like that."

"What? No," he shakes his head multiple times

"No?" I ask back, not understanding what he's trying to say with it. "He's like a brother to me, and I'm like a sister to him. What do you mean 'no' ?"

"But... you were flirting." Zach points towards the house above his shoulder.

"Yeah, as a joke." I say, still not really knowing where he wants to go with this.

"So you don't like like him?"

"No, I never did." I almost laugh out loud by the strange image his accusation generates in my mind before mumbling something else so quiet I don't think he can hear me. "I mean, I like someone else, how could I like him?"

"You like someone else?" He repeats and my cheeks immediately start growing red by the fact he heard it and now asks about it.

"Yeah," I mumble again.

"You never told me." Zach says in a playful, joyous tone, but I know him well enough to hear the tension in his voice. "I thought we were best friends."

"It never really came up." I shrug shyly. "So what's up with you? What made you storm out of the house?"

"No, no, wait. Who do you like?" Zach ruins my plan to divert the subject within a second.

I take a deep breath and look in his eyes. He seems nervous.

"It's you, dumbass, in case you haven't noticed." I manage to answer without my voice breaking and eyes moving away.

"Me?" He asks back, and all of a sudden his whole face starts shining as a huge grin spreads across his face, eyes open wide and glimmering with happiness.

I nod, my heart suddenly beating really loud and fast. "Why?" My voice is so high pitched by now it's like a mouse is speaking.

Zach bursts out laughing and grabs my hand before moving to stand on his knees in front of me, slowly calming himself down.

And just as he quietens, my heart feels like to be getting only louder and louder as it frantically beats. The world aroubd us seems to freeze and go absolutely silent as we're staring at each other.

"I like you too," Zach confesses and it's like the world stops spinning in this very moment. "Half the time I got too embarrassed to say anything about it. I was afraid you don't feel the same and that I'd only ruin our friendship."

"I like you ever since I met you."

"Good, me too."

We grin at each other and as the world's noise slowly starts to come back, we're gripping each other's hand in a comfortable silence, finally having said our feelings out loud.

"Finally, guys, I started to think I'd never see this happen." I suddenly hear a happy exclaim coming from above us, from the front door of the house.

I spin around to smirk at Jack whose wide smile seems to split his face in two.

"You planned this, didn't you? It was all an act." Zach says.

"No shit, Sherlock." Jack chuckles back at the younger boy.

We both stand up and walk up the stairs to be next to him, our fingers still interlaced, slowly swinging back at forth between us.

When we reach Jack, he immediately pulls his best friend into a hug. "I told you so," he whispers in his neck loud enough for me to hear it and I just shake my head, watching the two of them interact.

"I'm glad for you, guys." Jack says as they part and we make our way back inside the house.

"Why, what happened?" Jonah asks from the couch, still playing the video game.

"Zach finally confessed to (y/n)."

"No way! Really?" The eldest boy immediately pauses the game and jumps up, smiling at us wide. "We were all rooting for you two."

I shyly smile at him in response before I feel Zach gently tug at my arm.

"Let's go upstairs, I think we have a lot of things to talk about," he says and I nod, a giggle of disbelief escaping my mouth as I think about how I never expected this to happen when I came over to their house.

As we're making our way up the stairs, suddenly Jack's voice fills the air again as he exclaims to Jonah, making all three of us chuckle.

"I can't wait till Corbyn and Daniel gets home and I can tell them the news. I finally have a couple bets that I won!"

.::the end::.

my masterlist

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rubbrfrk9 · 5 years

Photo

REBORN

I HAD A NAME. I used to be somebody.

I had a profession, dignity, a position in the class structure.

Nowadays, I see through a cracked lens - society is broken, and the people participating in it are all prisoners. The people you see shuffling in the great to and from, every morning, every evening - they’re miserable. Ask any one of them if they wouldn’t leave their life, and - perhaps after some hesitation - they would say Yes.

Even the ones who have kids - the ones in love - all of them. In fact, those with ties to other people are the first ones to get in line.

For me, it was curiosity that opened the door. If one follows the classic Hero’s Journey, the arc that every myth and story takes, I heard the Call - just like you - through a buzzing, pixelated source… the great and sordid world of the internet.

One wrong step can put you on an entirely different path.

When you look back, the path you were on is obscured by the surrounding environs - pressed firmly closed, as though no thing had ever once passed through.

I should introduce myself before I preach anymore. I am rubbrfrk9. You’ve read the stories on the website, you might’ve seen my name watermarked on pics as you scroll by on your tumblr feed.

That hasn’t been our name always. But what our name was before does not matter.

All hail the Rubbered One!

And if you’re reading this, then you’re as curious as I was.

Do you dare follow your own Call?

If you do, keep reading.

THE CALL COMES FOR YOU. You don’t come for it. The Call has been there, waiting, for you to pick up the other end, for as long as you’ve been alive.

Like I was saying, for me, it was curiosity. It seems like it is for you, too.

I was always a curious guy. It’s how I became a teacher, I guess. I loved to learn about shit. Endless amounts of shit. The subjects that interested me were sucked dry by my voracious need to know. On top of it all, I was cursed (blessed?) by a need to collect, a completionist’s frenzy, and so I found myself needing not just to know, but to know it all.

Everything. A question could not go unanswered. I was a very vocal kid, always asking the dread “Why?” to anyone who had the faculty to answer. Of course, I learned quickly that faculty does not imply ability; and later still, that ability does not imply honesty. Soon enough, I started shutting up and consulting other avenues of information - books. I loved books. I read anything I could find, from my mother’s tawdry romances on the back of the toilet to magazines at the doctor’s office - but my preferred genre was Horror, without a doubt.

I loved to read stories of unfortunate people, blind to their predicament, be lulled to the predator in the story. I loved how the protagonists were slowly overcome by a sense of dawning knowledge, and were thus able to conquer - or not - the abiding horror. The best ones were when the hero failed, in my opinion - those dark, twisted passages of despair and helplessness …

I was a weird kid.

I didn’t have very much luck making friends. I didn’t really understand what a “friend” should be. I knew that it was some sort of social construct, but I hadn’t figured out how it worked yet. Taking the time to do that analysis set me back, quite substantially, in the invisible school of society. Maybe, at heart, I was always a bit of a freak, even before I came out.

Funny to think of that, now, sitting here, writing from behind my gas mask and full rubber suit.

All hail the Rubbered One!

I love how tightly it encases me. How tightly it erases me.

Slowly, now. Don’t give up too quick. Finish the story first.

As I was saying. Curiosity. After college, I became a teacher. A professor. Very highly regarded in my field, but poor with social interactions. Dates? Of a professional courtesy, only, and as awkward and dry as a lecture. Actually, for me, lecturing was my second home, aside from my tidy and obsessively-ordered apartment. I loved standing at the podium, talking about the books we read together. How they are structured, and how events, following a certain chain, can be transformative.

Although sometimes, horrific.

Life that is contained entirely within the snowglobe of acadæmia becomes brittle, after a time. Even the most relentlessly anti-social of us have a heartbeat, a pulse, and a sexual drive.

Most sexual drives will tend towards the obligatory, the procreational. Attractiveness, physicality, congruence, intercourse, and then the subsequent emotional tangle. Sex is more than just a body meeting a body a-comin’ thru the rye - it is a rendezvous of energy, some of which we can’t even begin to understand.

Some kind of cosmic interplay happens during sex.

Something so bright, so chimeric, that I was blinded just thinking about it.

I fled from it, like a medieval monk from a vision of God.

SPARE TIME. I spent most of my time in my apartment in my bedroom, perched with my skinny knees up, my face obliterated by the powder-white light of my phone. I’d scroll endlessly. And always pictures of men.

I’d known I was gay way before most people do, but I’d never bothered to “come out” or anything that obvious. I just kept my feelings to myself, for as long as I could - which may not have been the healthiest thing to do, in hindsight, and when they finally vibrated at the seal on the pressure gauge, I spewed it out all over the internet.

Tumblr was my outlet. You could find something for every kink, from men transforming into donkeys to using politics as a sexual tool. I considered myself omnisexual. I could be convinced, really, to like anything. Except a few things.

I never really got into the big “full fetish” scene. I’d, of course, seen the pictures go by - of Folsom, Folsom Europe, even some kinksters trying to make a name for themselves, become influencers, with pictures so heavily edited and filtered they almost looked fake.

But for me, my kink was - get this - intimacy. I loved pictures of men, beautiful men, kissing, embracing. Tangling together, with bliss inscribed on their faces. And it was that expression that did it for me - the bliss, the complete and total walling-off of any worldly concern but the physical, the presence of another’s lips, breath, proximity -

It got me off, every time. Imagining myself in those positions. Wearing those clothes. Caught up in those bedsheets.

Then, I’d stare into the mirror, and flex my coming-along biceps. My quads. I’d get dressed for the gym, and I’d go work out for an hour.

I loved my routine, even if I felt the dreary recalcitrance to wake up every morning and head to work, just another body with the other bodies, shuffling to and from. The night time is when I felt the surge of life - I would be free of the grimy shackles of the city, I would pound through the tumblr feed, I would shower, I would go workout.

Life was half-bliss.

But as anyone who has half of bliss will tell you, it is never enough. You must go searching for the second half of bliss - and I found mine on the night in question.

Knees up, one foot tapping a heel in idle, anxious rhythm. Eyes greedily consuming, picture after picture, and then -

My thumb hovered over the screen as if about to lay a fingerprint down on a reader. I stared.

The picture, my gateway, was a bedroom picture much like any other I saw in my daily feed, except for one crucial ingredient - one of the men was entirely encased, from head to toe, in shiny black rubber.

The rubber was so shiny, so depthless, so reflective, that it almost seemed as though its host was Not - as though there were some kind of blotting-out, erasing, blankening … And yet, this Not Person was being encircled by the arms of another man, a strong man, by the looks of it, his biceps bulging around the Rubbered One.

Even now, looking back on it, I find it insanely difficult to pry my eyes away from the memory of that reflective rubber. That shiny, reflective black rubber. And the detail! I could see the hollows of the eyes, the imprint of the big toenail, the curls of the ears down to the tragus - it was truly as though this was not a suit being worn, this was a suit that was animated, had breath and energy of its own.

Perhaps it was, in hindsight, seducing the man which embraced it.

I don’t know how long I stared at the picture. A long time. I was fascinated with everything about it - the mess of clothing on the side of the bed, socks and shirts strewn around, as if someone had melted and left only their garments as markers that they ever existed at all. Even a pair of glasses lay askew on the carpet, next to a pair of jeans and Chucks.

If I listened, I could almost hear my own heartbeat, beating in time with the glints of light off of that rubber surface, as though the Rubbered One were moving, in infinitesimally small increments, writhing on the bed in either pleasure or agony -

I blinked, shook my head, and pressed down deliberately on the screen, for the little “Save Image” dialog to appear. I needed to see that again, sometime.

It was a lot sooner than I thought.

I had to excuse myself from my lecture. I was shaking, and my breath was wobbly in my mouth. Words had come out gummily, and I was worried that someone would be convinced I was having a stroke. I’d send in a TA to finish off the lecture, not that anyone in the darkened hall was paying attention anyway.

I went into the nearest bathroom, a single-room lavatory, and sat down hard on the toilet. Instantly, my hands fished out my phone from my pocket and called up my Photos.

There, on the top of the digital heap, was the faraway glisten and shine of the Rubbered One. I sighed in relief, in pleasure.

You would too, if you’d seen the picture. Don’t judge me.

A whisper of triumph, of pleasure, of satisfaction, threaded through my mind as I opened up the picture. There it was again. That endlessness, that Void, that Nothing. I craved it, and I didn’t know why, and I needed to know why, and to know why, I needed to keep looking. I needed to keep looking to stop looking.

The Rubbered One had moved. I remember its legs being in a different scissor - left on top of right, and now it was right, on top of left.

This did not frighten me. Perhaps it should have. Pictures are not supposed to move.

But in my addled state of mind, I was blissfully unaware of the warning - or even, really, of the thought itself. It slid right out of my head, as if on a glossy sheet of black ice. I smiled, warmly, the shuddering ceasing.

Then, surprising even myself, I unzipped my pants, and hauled out my cock.

Nothing would stop me. I was a man determined. I could even smell the rubber, could feel it lifting, wafting out of the screen of my phone. That smell, that smell that I have no words for - something utterly inorganic, but somehow seductive for that very reason.

I jerked off, right there, in the bathroom around the corner from the lecture hall. I sat so still, my hand doing all the work, that the motion-sensing lights clicked off, leaving me alone, lit only by the powdery light of my phone. There, in the enclosing, mummifying dark, I jerked myself off and came with a jagged, oblique moan that slid out of me, catching me by surprise.

I may have even been in such a hurry to get inside that I didn’t even lock the bathroom door. This suspicion came to me as I exited, stuffing myself shakily back into my khakis and my blazer. You see, the door had opened seamlessly, with no hint of a lock dis-engaging.

In fact, the momentary thrill of being caught as I masturbated to the Rubbered One flicked a little shiver of pleasure up my shaft anew, and I started shuddering so much that I had to grab the wall for fear of falling over.

All hail the Rubbered One!

There was no way I could go back to my lecture now. I fled the campus for the safety of a local coffeehouse.

OTHER THINGS STARTED HAPPENING. Like how I thought I was having a stroke, before? I found that, when I spoke, my mouth felt oddly compressed, as though I had lockjaw. I went to the doctor, but when they told me to “open wide and say ahhh” I had no trouble - my jaw, seemingly re-oiled, complacently opened its full width, and I made the obligatory noise.

Nothing wrong with my temporo-mandibular joint, advised the healthcare professional.

And yet, as soon as I left the office, trying to speak to the Uber driver, to give him directions to my apartment, the same muffling, mysterious pressure returned, and I was only able to speak in tight, restrained tones.

It didn’t occur to me until much, much later, that this was the voice of someone wearing a rubber gas mask, much like the one I am wearing now.

After awhile, I stopped talking altogether. Of course, this did make it rather difficult to be a professor, and so that had to stop, too.

But what does a mute member of society do, when the one thing they have in life is a degree in English Literature?

Well, the first step is despondency, and denial. I spent a month at least, just searching tumblr for more pictures of the Rubbered One. Sure, there were plenty of pictures - the fetish for rubber has never been a subtle one - but none of them had that same irresistable sheen and shine, that fathomless Void, of the Rubbered One. I’d exhausted most of the blogs. I kept returning to the photograph I had saved to my cloud - and jerking off to it, again and again, like a desperate man. Like a junkie. If I went without, or even thought about going out, my hand developed such a tremor that I looked afflicted with tardive dyskinesia.

It got so bad, and the attacks so frequent, that I eventually just made the picture my home screen on my phone. That way, if the tremors started, a quick pocket-dig and finger-flip would open up the likeness of the Rubbered One, and instantly, I would calm.

And (he? It?) continued to move. Perhaps, now that (he? It?) knew that I had noticed the movement, it happened more and more, and faster, as though I were watching a video rather than a photograph.

Now, in addition to the slow, sensual scissoring of its legs, the Rubbered One was turning its head, away from the suckling devotion of its prey and turning to look at me, choosing me, directing its energy towards me.

I already had my rubber in the mail. It took some doing, some difficult work, some self-measuring, but before long the order was placed and the shipment was made. It was, of course, a link that I’d seen on tumblr, from one of the many rubber fetish sites. Drone, and a series of numbers, I think. One of the ones that’s talking about being absorbed into a Hivemind, a Central Core. Nothing that ever really appealed to me.

The only thing I wished to absorb into was the Rubbered One.

I ached, yearned, to be the man in that picture. I was even jealous of him. Who was he to show his devotion to such a being, such a beautiful entity? Would not I be a better candidate for the first apostle position?

But I knew, somehow, deep inside, that I wouldn’t even be considered until I had donned my own rubber.

Here’s where it gets a little weird, right - this is usually the point when in the story, the protagonist gets a little real, sizes himself up, maybe learns something about themselves. Call me crazy, I know, but at this point, I just knew on the inside, so strongly, that I would never be worthy of the Rubbered One if I wasn’t Rubbered myself.

And so I waited, agonizingly, nearly tearing my hair out, for the package to inch itself across the ocean to my apartment mailbox. I’d ordered the full suit, of course, the one that most closely approximated my photograph.

I was utterly consumed, I was ablaze with obsession. For the first time in my life, I felt an utterly overwhelming feeling - a lack. I felt as though I lacked something that I had had for just a moment - one sweet moment, hovering, crystalline - and now that I no longer had it, I could never live a whole life again.

And everywhere I went - watching with a hawk’s eye the slow drainage of funds from my bank account - I smelled it. Rubber. There was even an auto repair shop, blockaded on one side with piles and piles of tires - I altered my daily neighborhood walk so that I could slowly amble by it, inhaling the thick, gray smell. The more of it I could get on me, the more I wanted. If there were a cologne that smelled of rubber, I’d wear it - hell, I’d bathe in it! I twitched for it to be near me, on me, inside of me.

THE DAY MY NEW FACE CAME IN THE MAIL. I was wearing rubber gloves, made for chemical and construction workers, pressing them to my face, and inhaling as deeply as I could, when my phone made its little ringing noise to signify that a package was Delivered.

It could only be one thing.

It would only be a matter of moments before I could prostrate myself in front of the Rubbered One.

I hooked up my laptop to my flat-screen television, where the Rubbered One had also become my desktop wallpaper. I opened up the picture file and let it sit, in the middle of my living room, the picture of Him.

Again, I fell far into His Nothingness, His All-Consuming Void - He turned on the bed, in the picture. He silently got up. He moved so subtly that it was impossible to tell if my hallucination was real, or some sort of digital magic. He kicked, as if insulting, the pile of clothes left by the bedside.

The whole time, He kept his head, His black eyes, His shiny face, impassive and monstrous, but so aloof, so superior - His direct gaze - riveted on mine.

All hail the Rubbered One!

With barely a shimmer, He stepped out of the frame of my television and deliberately into my living room. Tendrils of black squirmed out around the square of my screen, lashing to and fro idly, almost amusedly.

None of this seemed unreal, or even fantastical. It was simply as it was - I was in a sort of ecstasy, like the kind the saints have, all-consumed, raptured. The Rubbered One had chosen me!

Go, He told me without speaking.

I was on my feet, I was sprinting, I was dashing, my hands, still in their gloves, slippery on the door knob. I was down the stairs before I realized I was barefoot, or that I was still wearing the heavy-duty black rubber gloves. And there it was - my Rubber. It was, of course, still in the box, it needed to be freed -

I cradled it in my arms. I inhaled, as deeply as possible, again. I could smell it, whining at the edges of my nostrils, begging to be freed. I felt it, inside its cardboard prison, shifting and rustling. Whispering.

I brought it upstairs with as much care as a mother would bring home her day-old newborn, but once inside, slamming the door behind me, I pillaged the drawers for the scissors, tearing into the box that would dare imprison my -

And there it was. Still in a sad, folded-up heap, but it was mine.

Now, said His voice in my head. I didn’t have to turn around to know that He, the Rubbered One, was standing behind me - had moved silently from the living room to the kitchen. I felt Him questing at the edges of my consciousness, starting the interview process.

I felt a strange mix of craven desire and hot-blooded lust twist through me. How I wished to possess the Rubbered One! And how I wished to be possessed by Him!

I began to don my Rubber. I felt it coo as it met my skin, as I replaced my own with its black sheen. I saw my toes go, then the top of my foot - ankles, calves and shinbones, kneecaps and thighs - I watched as the black tide continued its creep up my body, as quickly as night follows dusk.

The Rubbered One put His hands on me and I was nothing, I was everything. I was part of a gigantic, moaning chorus of voices, I was absolute silence.

I saw Him reach out to me, his Nothing fingers and Nothing hands, his Void arms, his Void body. I saw Him pull my self to His, and I felt us as we docked, somehow, for an imposssible moment, sharing the same physical space.

Then, with a sound that reminded me of a slurp and a sucking, closing noise, I was no more.

RUBBERBORN. I ceased to exist as I knew myself.

I had a name.

I wasn’t much of somebody, but I was somebody.

Now, I was part of a growing, aching consciousness - I was part of a vast, growing hunger. My thoughts were no longer my own.

All hail the Rubbered One!

I buzzed and chirred, excited beyond words. I was ramrod hard, even in the rubber, which smoothed everything away, everything - all emotion, all thought, all nerve, all worry. All features of my face - gone. All features of my body - slurped up.

I stood in front of the mirror. All sign of the Rubbered One was vanished. I could see, somehow, through my suit, though it had no eyeholes.

I saw through Rubber eyes.

I understood that I was Rubberborn. That this was my destiny.

The words “my” and “me” and “I” and “mine” were erased, scratched out heavily. I was plural, now.

We were plural.

We stand in front of the mirror, staring at ourselves, our new body. A mere morsel in the face of our hunger.

Do you feel it?

As our eyes swivel slowly, tracking across the room, away from the mirror. Looking into the camera lens backwards. Do you feel the chilly fingers of our gaze landing on you as you read? Playing along your bare shoulders, the pliable, delicate skin of your arms?

The Rubberborn understand and acknowledge that this body can be used for purposes that satisfy the hunger.

They gave it the name rubbrfrk9. The name you know, the author of these stories you read, curious in your own way to know how the rubber feels. The same name you’ve seen watermarked on pics of us as you scroll by on your tumblr feed.

Or maybe you already know - maybe you’ve already felt the ecstasy, struggling into your own shirt or pants. Gloves or socks. Mask or hood.

Perhaps all of the above.

Perhaps the voice of the Rubbered One is even now mingling with your own thoughts. Sinuous, twisty, shiny and smooth. Silken whispers, just an undercurrent of sibilant breath in the background, there. If you strain, you can make it out. Can hear our voices.

We can sense you.

We know.

We are coming.

Say it with us now: All hail the Rubbered One!

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evien-stark · 4 years

Text

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 135

It was fairly late in the evening by the time fear stopped paralyzing you enough to move. To get anything done. Tony had not moved from his spot upstairs all day, either. But he was currently, technically, on a mission. And you were just sitting in your office. Eventually, when sense returned, you decided to do something about it.

“LUNA.” Reaching up to press on the left side earring cuff to activate your visor, a litany of information popped up in your view. Even though you hadn’t asked for it, there was also a simultaneous Iron Man link screen in a very small box in the lower right hand corner. Interesting.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Let’s start some new security protocols.” The last time Kilgrave had grabbed you off the street, you’d been without her. Without the tech that might have mattered most. Although Kilgrave had made you abandon the Heart Reactor- you would never know if he would have made you take the earrings off, too. And it was far too late to start speculating now.

“What would you like to set up?”

Well, for starters… “Go back on Trish Talk’s website and grab the archive of her show from yesterday. The male caller at the end… I want you to isolate and hold a recording of it. If that voice gets within thirty feet of me, I want an instant activation of the suit.”

“Working now, ma’am.”

“I also want a direct phone call to Tony if the suit gets activated that way.” It was too late to wonder about all the what-ifs. But maybe you could pretend you were as smart as Tony. Things happened. And kept happening. But he never let that slow him down. He never let that stop him.

No matter what terrible things happened, he always used what he learned to build something better for next time. You could do that, too.

After a few seconds of silence, she answered again. “Protocols are now being established. Voice has been isolated.”

“If the suit gets activated and Tony gets a phone call, I also want a GPS ping sent to Tony. If for some reason I lose the suit, I still want you tracking me through the visor.” What else, what else… “If that voice calls my cell phone, I want an immediate trace ran and all information on the phone number associated with it.” Tony had given you tech. You had to use it to your advantage. The way he did. You had to be smart about this. Give yourself shortcuts so hopefully you wouldn’t end up in a situation like that ever again.

Because Kilgrave was coming for you. There were no longer any doubts about that.

“Oh, and another thing…”

“I’m listening, ma’am.”

---

After lulling yourself into a sense of newfound security that you hoped wasn’t false, you decided to test your luck. Kilgrave had only just started, and he seemed to have some sort of plan. Really, though, you did wonder how smart he was. He was entirely manipulative, this was true. But how much of that was just due to his powers? How heavily did he rely on them?

Moments of you- and him- in that kitchen in Brooklyn… for that brief sweet moment when you’d broken free… you’d felt the horror in the air. His lack of thought that he’d ever be bested had nearly been his downfall. And if you only moved just a little faster, maybe you would have been free of him a lot sooner. Hard to think about, still. But… it really did raise the question of how much Kilgrave was prepared for, and how much he just figured out on the spot.

He’d definitely captured Steve and orchestrated some plan to potentially kill Trish at the same time- and he’d gotten his hands quickly on Pepper too. Someone you’d considered to be far more innocent in all this. Though, you didn’t really think that was a thing he cared about in the slightest. He had hired Jessica’s neighbor to take pictures to track you… and do who knew what else with. How far did his spiderweb go? You’d have to figure it out soon. Slowly you were removing pieces off his board, but even through Pepper he’d sounded confident that that’s what he’d wanted.

Or was that merely what he wanted you to think? The entire thing was frustrating.

Happy was going to be the next one sent on vacation, simply because you didn’t want to risk him, too. Even if he was technically your head of security. But while you still had him, you called for him to take you to and from a restaurant so you could stealthily pick up some food. Stealthily in the case of making it look like just enough for you. But clearly in open defiance of Kilgrave. If he was watching. From any number of shadows that littered the streets.

Tony had said you’d been getting paranoid. Maybe that was true. It was hard not to, when you’d suddenly found yourself locked in a battle with a nemesis that could make anyone do anything he wanted them to at any time. Chefs could poison your food. Drivers could total your car. Random passersby could beat you with a bat in the street. People in your very office could be infected- as he’d already proven he was capable of doing.

But if you lived that life in perpetual fear of him, he won. Still. You had to be smart about this, too. You both couldn’t just lock yourself away and you also couldn’t run around flagrantly if only to show you weren’t scared of him. How could you not be? Honesty would call it being terrified. But maybe if he knew that he would win that way, too. He wanted you scared and weak and vulnerable.

You couldn’t give it to him.

Once safely back inside the lobby of the Tower, you decided to try and tell Happy to go on a small paid vacation. But. Of course. He intended to fight you every step of the way. Respectfully, as always. But his swift refusal really did put a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Pepper had also fought, a little, but when you’d told her it was for her safety she quickly understood that probably meant she was better off just listening to you.

Instead, Happy surprised you as he walked you back towards your private elevator (newly refinished as Tony in his infinite skill of multitasking had fixed), he merely said, ”This is about what happened last year. That guy that took you.” Not a question in the slightest. Just. Telling you he already knew what this was about.

It didn’t take long to guess how that was. “Tony told you?”

“I’m head of security, remember?” Grinning, though it was half-hearted. “Seems like something I should know about. So I do.” The question of when Tony had had the time to brief Happy about all this was probably not important. You did wonder what exactly Tony had told him, though.

“Yeah. Well… whether or not I agree- he’s dangerous. And I want you somewhere safe.” People in your private, personal circle needed to go away. Whether or not that was smart. They were just more fodder for Kilgrave. And you couldn’t have that.

“Feeling’s mutual. But I have a feeling you aren’t about to take off, either. So neither am I.” He crossed his arms, perhaps a little overtly on the defensive.

How on earth had you gotten stuck with such infuriating men? Tony and Happy were more alike than they realized. Refusing to listen to reason. ...even if it was noble. And usually in the service of you. “I could fire you.” A threat that held no weight whatsoever.

Yet he just shrugged it off. “Tony will hire me back.”

“I don’t want you caught up in this, Happy.” How much clearer could you make it?

“Yeah. Well, you are. So that means I am. It’s not just my job, you know. I care about you, too.” You sensed he wasn’t trying to make you feel bad on purpose. But he did so regardless.

A heavy sigh escaped you. You couldn’t force Happy out. Even if you somehow managed it, even cruelly with a firing, you had a feeling he’d just shadow you anyway. Oh the pains of having friends. “I’m going to get you one of those ear pieces from Tony’s lab. I just booked a bunch of security protocols.” The only thing you could do was hope to get a ping off him if Kilgrave did try to snatch him. He wouldn’t have a suit for protection but hopefully this would be enough.

Preparation. That’s all you had. That was your only tool. Finally he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Fine. Whatever it takes.”

Calling the elevator, finally, you gave him a brief but tired smile. “I appreciate it- just so you know. That you want to stick around. I still don’t think it’s a good idea. But… thank you.”

His own smile was a little more sure. “You’re welcome.”

---

Back upstairs, you brought the food directly into the penthouse bedroom knowing Tony had not otherwise moved from his spot at the desk. Though as you entered, you noticed the telltale slump of his shoulders. He was achingly tired, yet his brain was still racing. You couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept. Which was a problem. Giving him a small touch on the shoulder to gain his attention, “I brought dinner.”

His head tipped back, “Thanks. I’m finishing up. Suit’s gotta stay in the jet bay for repairs anyway.” His disappointment was an obvious note.

“No scepter.”

“Nope. No alien parts. Nothing. Hydra rats in jail is something but. Ultimately not what we were looking for.” Starting to ramble just a little bit.

You pulled up another chair to sit aside him, putting the takeout boxes on the corner of the desk. “How’s the team?”

“Asleep. We have a layover in Seoul. As usual, no one even thought to thank me for the nice hotel rooms.” Playing at that usual mock offense.

“What’s in Seoul?” Not that you thought a Hydra base couldn’t be located just about anywhere, but a hub like that seemed like asking for too much trouble. Too many eyes.

“U-GIN- uh- Doctor Cho- actually- JARVIS can you put this- here-” Reaching up after that mountain of clipped starts to push a holographic video window in front of you both. “This is Doctor Helen Cho. She runs things at U-GIN.”

You regarded her image on the video screen, waving back when she waved to you. “Nice to meet you.”

She was a pretty woman despite her slightly stoic demeanor, deep dark eyes with hair tied up in a messy bun. She and everyone around her were in lab coats. “You, too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Tony stole the generic all good things I hope moment by speaking before you could. “The team stopped at her lab. Nat got hit pretty bad. Cho is the leading tech geneticist in the world right now. Cleaned her right up.”

“Ah.” The pieces fell into place. “You’re our new in-house doctor?”

“Hardly.” Her smile was light. “I think I have a lot more meaningful work to offer than patching scrapes, no offense to your team. But I would like to come visit the labs. And help where I can. If you need us.”

“They have this thing called the Cradle over there. Sad I can’t visit it in person.”

“I don’t want that thing bumbling around in my lab.”

“Excuse me. My suits do not bumble.”

She and Tony seemed pretty friendly with one another. It was nice, in a way. He really seemed to warm up to scientists, for obvious reasons. You wondered if he’d met her before all this, though. And while you were at least partially interested in this Cradle thing, you were otherwise too tired to engage in what would probably not make a lot of sense to you anyway. “Can’t you bring it here?”

Helen answered with a definitive shake of her head. “There’s only the one. And I’d like it to stay where it is.”

Tony half-grinned. “There’s only one right now.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Stark.”

“I’m ahead of everyone.” Waving his hand dismissively. “This little you-scratch-my-back-I’ll-scratch-yours thing we’ve got going on…”

She shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Let me see your labs first. Then we can talk about all that.” You assumed they had entered into some contract with each other. Probably more verbal than anything. He’d probably offered her help to mass produce these Cradle things. Especially if one could be of such use to the team. You weren’t sure how Nat had gotten hurt, but if this doctor had managed to heal her in a matter of moments… yeah. Pretty impressive and worthwhile endeavor to go after.

No wonder Tony was all over this.

Whether it was his own tiredness or yours seeping into him, he thankfully decided to be the one to breach the awkward quick goodbyes. “Yeah, well. Probably sooner rather than later. I’ll let you get back to your work.”

You gave her a small wave. “It was nice speaking with you. Thank you for helping the team.”

She nodded in return. “You’re welcome.”

With the video window closed, you turned to face Tony, reaching up to gently lift that techband off his head and face. In its wake, little red indents of telling all-day use stood out to you, and you worked your hands over the marks lightly. “You should eat. And then get some sleep.”

“I’ve got too much to do.” Already putting up a fight.

Holding his face in your hands, you gave him a look just short of pleading. “So do I. But neither of us are any good running on empty.”

“Speak for yourself. I basically invented the manual on running on fumes.”

“That doesn’t mean that’s a good thing- or that you should.” Just as he geared up to continue arguing you cut him off, “Tony. I’m asking you. For me, please. Eat something and then try to lie down for a few hours. Please.” Soft as you asked, watching his eyes.

His hands covered yours, quickly dropping to your wrists, thumbs working circles over the insides. His eyes dropped, and his nod was defeated. “Yeah. Okay, honey.”

Sitting forward you brought him closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you.” Getting Tony to slow down was never an easy task. For you or for him- especially for him. So him acquiescing because you were asking him meant the world.

The two of you moved to the living room to eat, again using the TV as white noise static to fill an otherwise anxiety ridden void that was slowly consuming the both of you. At least until you found strength enough to start filling him in on the day’s events. “I sent Pepper on vacation.”

“Probably smart.”

It would have been easy to sidestep why, but he deserved to know. “Kilgrave got to her.”

The small chill that he projected stood out when he reached to put a hand on your leg. Steadying himself more than you. “Yeah? And did what?”

“Just made her say some threatening things to me. But. That was more than enough reason to send her away. I tried to tell Happy to leave, too, but he wasn’t having any of it.”

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, backing away from that high. Then he shook his head. “Guy’s as stubborn as an ox.”

“I threatened to fire him.”

At least this got a little grin out of him. “I’m sure he handled that gracefully.”

You smiled back. “He seemed to think you’d automatically rehire him.”

“I must have given him the wrong idea at some point.” Lifting his hand from your leg, he held his arm up, so you easily moved to him, letting him put it around you as you sank closer to him. “LUNA sent up your fresh security batch. Really good stuff. JARVIS is working on cleaning up the edges.”

“I just thought some preventative measures were important now more than ever.” Tony’s praise always made you warm but it was easy to deflect. This was the obvious thing to do. That didn’t make it smart.

“You did that while I was busy playing exterminator. I hadn’t even gotten that far yet.”

“You would have.”

He gave you a little squeeze. “Maybe. But. Now I don’t have to.”

Because you weren’t useless. You weren’t ready to just sit there and take it as it came. You weren’t his damsel in distress to save every time something terrible came up. You were strong and capable.

All these ideas floating in the air around you as you snuggled closer. “Except for cleaning up.” Teasing, just a little, as you raised a hand over his heart.

He breathed out a quiet amused noise. “We can’t all be perfect.” His own hand raised, fingers lacing with yours. Just holding you there. “I love you. We’ll figure this out. He won’t be out there forever.”

It was his resolve you were lulled by more than anything. You and Tony would figure this out. Kilgrave would be put down eventually. This was the promise he was making to you now. “I love you, too.”

And you believed him.

---

For all his reluctance to sleep (as it was such a waste of his time), as soon as you laid down with him, Tony was out like a light. You, on the other hand, laid awake. For a very long time. Sleep only came in short bursts, punctured by all too real nightmares that you tried to stifle as they thrust you awake over and over. Your suffering could not be allowed to infect Tony. And, thankfully, he slept the whole night through as you forcefully kept a lid on yourself. At least one of you had to be free and clear. And, since he was the smarter of the two of you, it seemed more advantageous for that to be him.

It left you weary and anxious when you eventually scuttled down to your office the next morning. Trying to pretend like things were normal. That Kilgrave wasn’t in as much control of your life as he was. Really, you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was out there. Doing something. He wouldn’t be quiet for long.

The ring of your personal cell phone got a complete startle out of you, and your heart started hammering as you looked at the unknown phone number on the screen. He’d called you once, he could do it again as many times as he pleased. Part of you hoped he would, so that you could try and figure out where he was hiding. It was the only reason you weren’t contemplating changing your number at this point.

But. When you answered, it was Jessica’s voice that greeted you. “I dealt with Malcolm.”

“Oh.” You tried to steady your breathing. “Okay. What’s the story with that?”

“Kilgrave had him on the hook for drugs. Won’t be a problem anymore. That’s all.” Succinct and angry as always. You couldn’t really blame her. She was probably getting as much sleep as you were these days. Which was none.

“Okay. Well. Thanks.” There was no way to drill her for information right now. You just had to take her at her word. But when she didn’t immediately hang up you started getting suspicious. “...is there something else?”

“There is, actually.” Another long pause. Your heart squeezed. Here was the other shoe. It was probably something very bad. “...Hogarth and I are starting a survivor group. For Kilgrave’s victims. We’re doing it to collect testimony. So obviously you don’t have to go.” There was that usual sass and bite there. That undertone of calling you useless. “But. I thought maybe it might help you.”

That however was… strange, at best. You might not have known Jessica for very long and really didn’t know anything about her other than that she was crass, always seemed to be pissed off, and always on the war path but… that seemed sort of… genuinely caring?

Had something happened to her? Was she finally warming up to you?

...probably lofty dreams for something so small. Your optimism really was the worst. “I can’t be seen there.” Then you had to go ruin it by saying something like that.

She scoffed. “No. Of course not. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

“But-” Quickly speaking so she wouldn’t hang up. “Tell me where they’re meeting. Maybe I can figure something out.” If you wanted to go. This all seemed very public. And like a trap. And… also like something you weren’t sure you could handle.

Victims of Kilgrave? Was the point to make you attend to make you feel terrible? For the people that had come after you? Optimism warring with pessimism and a shred of self loathing. And the latter was winning out.

“Whatever.”

The first meeting was apparently tomorrow. It didn’t really give you a lot of time to think about it.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter One Hundred Thirty Five

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winesympathy-blog · 4 years

Text

Wine & Sympathy - Episode 1: Welcome to Wine & Sympathy [Transcript]

Show Notes:

In this inaugural episode, you'll learn a little bit about Asabi and Ness and why they have decided to enter the world of podcasting. Asabi & Ness introduce themselves using a series of questions about their lives, likes, wants, and history.

Social Media & Website Links

Facebook: www.facebook.com/winesympathy

Instagram: www.instagram.com/winesympathy

Twitter: www.twitter.com/sympathywine

Website: www.winesympathy.page

Co-host: Asabi Goodman

Co-host: Vanessa "Ness" Bristow

Listen to us on iTunes, Spotify, Google, Stitcher, or your pod catcher of choice!

[BEGIN]

Ness (NB): Hi, everybody! This is Vanessa.

Asabi (AG): And this is Asabi. And welcome to Wine...

Both: & Sympathy!

NB: So, I think we should probably explain a little bit about us. Obviously, I know you, you know me, but there are things that we don't know about each other.

AG: That's true. And there's things that people don't know about us. I don't know if I want people to know about us.

NB: [Laugh] How about we just put the shiny stuff or the stuff with the filter on it, the stuff we would normally put out on Insta (Instagram).

AG: Yeah! I think that's a great idea. Just the glittery, happy go lucky...yeah!

NB: I'll start off. Tell me a little bit about you.

AG: My name is Asabi. I'm from America, and I live in Brisbane [Laugh].

NB: Well, thanks. We kind of grabbed that one already. So, we're hear to talk about what we're like as 40-something, gorgeous women in the entertainment industry. What made you want to do this podcast?

AG: I just enjoy talking [laugh]. Can I say that? I just like talking. Do I like the sound of my own voice? Not always. But, in all honesty, I wanted to be able to reach out to people that might be in a similar position as me, and just let them know what life is like, and that things will be fine, in most cases. It is a hard struggle. I do hustle. I do the hustle.

NB: I know you do, and I'm super proud of you. Watching you deal with this Covid-19, bullshit quarantine - sorry, I might swear - and the fact that you've done live shows, live feeds to America, that you've created income when you've lost everything. I'm real proud of you.

AG: Thank you!

NB: It's a real tough situation that we're in right now. Not only are we 40-something and we don't look it...'cause it's really hard to cast.

AG: It is hard to get cast looking the way I do. That might sound arrogant. Let me explain it. So, most people don't realise my age. When I meet most people, they think I might be in my late 20s - that's a stretch - early 30s, mid 30s - I could get away with that. But, you know, I'm mid-40s, and one of the issues that I have with casting is that I get put out for these roles between 40 and 60, and they're looking for a mom, and then I don't get them because they're like, "...wait a minute, you don't look old enough to be in your 40s." But I am. I'm what a 40 year old looks like. This is what 40 looks like in my life.

NB: It's weird, because they're not really casting for 30s. If they were casting for 30s, we'd be sweet.

AG: We would be sweet, and there aren't many casting for 30 year olds. You just don't see a lot of it. So you see a lot of 20-somethings. You see a lot of 40 and older, but I've always known that people in their 30s tend to get overlooked. At least, that's how I feel.

NB: Look. I agree. I feel the same way. It's really tricky. And we are hustlers. We're out there. We're pushing ourselves every day, and our agents are as well. But, I think together, living together and doing this podcast, I think we will really lift our game art-wise...

AG: I hope so. That's part of it as well; just to get out there a be a bit more present, if you will, in the industry. So, whatever we can do to make ourselves more present, and then not just tell our stories, but tell other people's stories as well.

NB: Because there's so much about being an artist that I think is not just always about yourself, it's about understanding people around you, meeting people around you, loving people around you, and experiencing, you know, all of these great things that we get to know, because through the arts we do.

AG: And experiencing those things just makes you a better artist as well. You get to see these lives and eventually step into them in different characters and it's like, oh! I know someone like that! And it helps you develop that character and play that character out. So, it's good. And then of course showcasing what other people do just allows them to get out there as well. There's a bit of a [struggling] philanthropic - philanthropic, can I say that - side to my nature where I have this desire to help people achieve. I'm a huge advocate of doing what you love - something that my father instilled in me. And, I just want nothing more than for other people to also be able to do what it is that they love. So, I'm a huge advocate for that.

NB: I think we both have that in common, which is a really good starting point for a good friendship.

AG: Yeah! It is.

NB: And...[struggling] collaboration. What's with our words today?!

AG: Collaboration. I don't know. I think this social isolation has caused my tongue to go soft [laugh], which can be good and bad. Let's not go there. That's a different conversation [laugh].

NB: It is. Alright. So a little bit about me. So, obviously I am 44. I'm single and ready to mingle!

AG: Oh, girl! [Tongue trill]

NB: I just came out of a break up. I really don't want that. So, moving on. [laugh] I've been an actress, singer, dancer, performer, pretty much my whole life - I mean, just ask my mom [laugh].

AG: Moms always know.

NB: I know. I think dance was a big thing for me when I was little in New Zealand, and then coming to Australia, and then when I eventually stopped dancing, I moved into performing. I did perform on stage or act on stage anyway, but it was more musical theatre or things like that, so it was a bit different.

AG: Still acting.

NB: But, I won a scholarship for TAFTA, and it opened these doors for me.

AG: What does TAFTA stand for?

NB: The Australian Film and Television Academy.

AG: Ok.

NB: Cool, right? So, that just opened and that was in the 1990s. I think it was 1999 that I graduated.

AG: I've seen videos of her too, on some dance show. It was very...amusing. So 90s [laugh]!

NB: So blessed to have the 90s in our lives, because that was a crazy, fun time.

AG: Like almost dirty, but still pretty clean.

Both: [Laugh]

NB: I find it really hard...like last year, 2019, was good for me. I did three feature films; small to large parts.

AG: Independent.

NB: Independent. Yes. They were independent films. There was no money in there. I did do some MCing work and there was money in that. I did a couple of little commercials, and there was a small amount of money in that. But, I actually feel like as a 40-something woman, I was starting to be looked at last year, and I felt good in my skin. I think that comes with age. I do wanna also give back. Very much like you, I believe in helping others, and you'll often find me giving advice on healthy medications or...[laugh].

AG: Yes! She tries to help me a lot, which I very much appreciate. I sometimes feel like I'm living with my mom [laugh]. But, at least I can still breathe.

NB: Hello! At least your sheets are clean and I just Glen 20'd your bed!

AG: That's right. Thanks, mom!! [laugh]

NB: Your'e welcome. I believe everyone can live up to their potential; to be healthy, and wealthy, and...

AG: Wise! [Laugh]

NB: Wow. Nice one! Did you just make that up? [Laugh]

AG: No. I think that's a saying. I have no idea. [Laugh]

NB: Yeah. I want everyone to be good and kind to one another.

AG: I think that's beautiful. That's beautiful sentiment.

NB: And you want to lift everybody up to be their best.

AG: And I agree with that. I do want everyone to be kind, and healthy, wealthy, and wise. And yes, I do want to lift people up. I want to lift you up!

NB: See! Oh my god! We're like super human powers! What would be our name if we were super heroes?

AG: Wonder Twins! [Laugh]

NB: The Wonder Twins! Oh! I love it!!

AG: I think that's already taken. [Laugh]

NB: Oh, shivers! [Laugh]

AG: Do you not know the Wonder Twins? Wonder Twin powers activate!! They have the ring.

NB: No. That's not. That's Power Rangers!

AG: No. NO! Wonder Twins - way before the Power Rangers. Well, maybe not. I don't know when the Power Rangers came out. But the Wonder Twins...

NB: If anybody knows any two females together that are super heroes, shoot us an email.

AG: There's tons of female super heroes. There's...You know what? There is Wonder Woman and her twin sister Nubia.

NB: What?

AG: Yes!

NB: Wonder Woman has a twin sister? Where have I been??

AG: She does and she's black!

NB: Oh my god! I'll be Wonder Woman!

AG: Goria Steinam was the inspiration behind that. She talks about it.

NB: I don't mind being Wonder Woman and you'll be Nubia!

AG: Well, definitely!!

Both: [Laugh]

NB: Right! I think this is cause for celebration. I'm gonna open a bottle of wine!

AG: I don't even have wine.

NB: What?!! What is the name of this podcast?? [Laugh]

AG: I know. I need to get some. I'm fine for now. I'm fine for now.

NB: That's alright. I'll get us a drink. I've got it.

[Clinking of glasses and laughter]

AG: Thank you. That was very quick. That was a very quick getting of wine.

NB: I often have wine. [Laugh]

AG: She does. There's so much wine in our house. I thought that I had a lot of...I do.

NB: You have a lot of booze, dude.

AG: I have a lot of liquor. Yeah. I do. I have a lot of booze. But, Ness has lots, and lots, and lots, and lots of wine.

NB: Not at the moment. Due to this self isolation thing, I've already gone through a whole case. So, if anyone out there is a wine representative or knows somebody who would like to sponsor us, we would desperately love some wine.

AG: Send us wine. All kinds. We'll drink it!

NB: What's our email?

AG: Our email is [email protected]. That's info [spelled out] I-N-F-O at wine sympathy dot [spelled out] P-A-G-E, page.

NB: Well, I think this is a pretty good intro. I think we have got a rough...

AG: An introductory episode.

NB: Yeah. We've got an idea of each other.

AG: Yeah. I think we've told some people about us.

NB: Do you think we'll probably learn a little bit more about each other as we go?

AG: No.

NB: Nah. Oh. We're done? We're done?

AG: Of course not! [Laugh] Of course we will.

Both: [Laugh]

AG: I mean, we live together, in case y'all didn't know.

NB: We shower together.

AG: What? Hey!

Both: [Laugh]

AG: TMI, Ness. TMI! People don't need to know that. They're gonna start getting pictures in their heads!

NB: [Laugh]

AG: That's not how this podcast works, but you can send us questions, comments, anything you like. You can write on our Twitter page. You can write on our Instagram. We've got a few photos up on Instagram. Nothing of us yet.

NB: Yeah. And also on Facebook. We've got a couple of photos from when we did a little make shift photoshoot in our beautiful lounge.

AG: Our lounge is beautiful. It's very beige!

NB: So beige! I love it! [Laugh] It's good though. It blends.

AG: Yeah. I love it. It does blend. We blend.

NB: We blend.

AG: Yeah. Vanessa's tan. I'm...

NB: Beige. I'm beige.

AG:..Brown. Vanessa's beige. Ok. Yeah. She kind of blends in with the light coloured couch.

Both: [Laugh]

AG: If she sits on it, I can't see her.

Both: [Laugh]

AG: And then if I sit on the brown couch, I just disappear. [Laugh]

NB: Oh my god! I can't believe you said that!! [Laugh]

AG: Yes. I said it. I said it.

NB: Well, we've got really nice throws and some really nice cushions, so I think we kind of do stand out.

AG: Lots of cushions.

NB: Plus we have tits...

AG: Yes. We have lots of that.

NB: So they often stand out.

AG: They do. I try to hide them.

NB: Please don't.

AG: I know. But you know, sometimes...[Laugh]

NB: Ah. Be proud.

AG: Anyway! Thanks so much for listening to us, guys. We are Asabi and Ness, and this has been Wine...

Both: & Sympathy!

AG: Catch us on regular episodes when we have some guests that will come by and chat, and...

NB: And you'll learn some more about us as well.

AG: That's right. And about them, and what they're doing. And, yeah, like I said, contact us on the socials.

NB: Alright. Until then, wash your hands and be safe.

AG: Wash your hand and be safe.

NB: Be safe.

AG: Be safe.

NB: Be safe.

AG: Alright.

[END]

#Wine #Sympathy #Wine & Sympathy #Asabi #Ness #Brisbane Podcasts #Podcast Life #Podcast Friends #Thats Not Canon #Pod Sisters #Housemates #Brisbane Performers #Hearing Impaired #Transcripts #ADA Friendly

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migleefulmoments · 4 years

Note

"No one will ever convince me he made that statement, and if you listen to his ACTUAL words about that, he didn’t say he wouldn’t take any more LGBTQ roles." Darren literally said that the gay community would have his head if he took another gay role but somehow to tinhats like Cassie, that means the next role he takes will be a gay character. I guess Darren meant that he knows the gay community will try to murder him, but he has faith in his ability to avoid their attempts. They're such freaks.

When they make grandiose and sweeping statements like this, I feel the full weight of the disinformation campaign they all embrace. Cassie claims “When you listen to his actual words…he didn’t say he wouldn’t take any more LGBTQ roles” so we have to see if she’s telling the truth or she’s manipulating reality in order to soothe their anxiety and allow them to easily fetishize the gay version of Darren.

What did Darren say? (You can read the entire Bustle piece (X))

“There are certain [queer] roles that I’ll see that are just wonderful,“ Criss explains when we speak at a recent event for Clorox’s What Comes Next in New York, a few days after he returned from an overseas tour with his Glee co-star Lea Michele. ”But I want to make sure I won’t be another straight boy taking a gay man’s role.“Although Criss says it’s “been a real joy” playing queer characters like Blaine, Cunanan, and Hedwig in the Broadway musical Hedwig and the Angry Inch, he now doesn’t feel comfortable taking those roles, which is “unfortunate,” he says. “The reason I say that is because getting to play those characters is inherently a wonderful dramatic experience,” he adds. “It has made for very, very compelling and interesting people.”

One of the reasons they claim they don’t think Darren said the words is because they claim that print interviews are fake:

12/18/18 ajw720 answered:

I would like to see a video as well, nonnie, as I don’t actually think he said any of this shit. Print articles are never, ever to be trusted. They are generally fabricated.

If you recall nonnie, D himself called out an article earlier this year (it may even be the one referred to in this piece of crap) for taking a quote of his out of context about his Filipino Heritage, likely as he was sick of being called white repeatedly. Fact is, while he is able to correct the “white” narrative, he, at this time, is not able to correct the straight narrative so he can’t even defend himself when this utter nonsense is published in his name.

First of all print articles aren’t generally fabricated and most CAN be trusted if you vet them properly. Claiming “ALL print articles are fabricated”- and therefore not to be trusted is a perfect cctrope because it gives them the out they need to label everything they don’t like-every single quote, every single story, and every single description as fake news. It’s the perfect strategy for ignoring everything Darren talks about that proves he isn’t Blarren- all the puns and sexual innuendos, all the crude comments, all the sweet things he says about Mia or his sexuality. All they have to do is remind their followers that it was in a print article and Woosh- it’s invalid. Trump is doing the same thing with his base-he’s grooming them to believe that the media is dangerous and that everyone fabricates stories about him. He calls them “the enemy of the people” so when the. NYT proves he laundered money for years through the Russian mafia or that he actively cheated during the 2016 election and is trying to cheat in 2020, his base will scream “fake news” and threaten to go all 2nd amendment on the rest of us.

Once again Abby uses something to prove her point but misses the fact that it actually proves she’s full of shit- Darren did push back on the interview where he was misquoted regarding his Filipino heritage but he hasn’t pushed back on any other interview he’s ever given. We can see he’s capable of pushing back, he’s interested in making sure he is quoted accurately and yet we’ve seen no other example- the reasonable conclusion is that is because the other interviews weren’t misquoted.

e Bustle piece and understand that he said he will no longer play LGBTQ characters. It’s clear that Darren has a far deeper understanding of the issue than Cassie and Abby. Splitting hairs and claiming he didn’t specifically say he would never play a bisexual or trans character is stupid. What Cassie and Abby are missing in the article is this paragraph:

This conversation about straight actors being cast in gay roles is about more than just LGBTQ actors losing out on Oscars, of course. It’s about Hollywood missing an opportunity to embrace new talent who would better serve these stories. And over the years, actors like Criss have become more sensitive to these types of concerns. The Versase star understands that there is an added honesty to actor getting to play characters who share their identities. “The commitment to that drama is told in such a way that it can really effectively reach people’s lives,” Criss says. “I think that really is important.”

Abby gets her wish- there is an audio recording of him making this statement-albeit it was 4 months prior to the Bustle interview and he seems to have evolved his understanding of the importance of representation in those 4 months. In the Hollywood Reporter interview he said:

“….But I do think about that now, you know, if roles come by that are LGBT leaning - I really think it would be insensitive to the gay community if I were to take another role. I think they’d have my head. You know, I would totally understand that. So I’m certainly cognizant of it. And while it is very tricky, I think the discussion and the questioning is really really important. And I think it’s good that we’re uncertain and I hope that we can find some kind of balance.” -Darren Criss, 8/26/18

I am an idiot and can’t remember how I got the audio portion of the interview on to my blog so I have to refer you to my old post if you want to hear Darren say the words (X).

I think you are correct- Darren is well aware the gay community will kill him but he doesn’t care because he has superpowers.

EDIT** I found this charming comment from Chrisdare who is a “journalist” yet she knows nothing about journalism. I got in an argument with her once and she schooled me that journalists aren’t educated.and will say anything a publicist tells them too. Whatever, Valentina, Google should be your friend.

Anonymous asked: It wouldn’t matter if you saw a video because you wouldn’t believe it anyway. You would say he was being forced to say it. Fact is CCers haven’t believed a thing

ajw720 answered:I believe many things nonnie. I also have a deep and fundamental understanding about hollywood works nonnie and that is something you clearly lack.

Further, if D was straight, i believe he would never allow them to portray him as an asshole. D is an incredibly intelligent human being, he knows exactly how negatively the straight push reflects on him. and frankly, it would not be necessary if he exclusively slept with female persons with vaginas.

Have a nice life living in delusionville.

chrisdarebashfulsmiles JCS shut the f** up.

When we talk about articles and how they are made we talk about facts. I hate when you come here busting balls on professional stuff when you don’t know anything. You can’t even imagine all the shit we do as journalist

It’s not a matter of cc but the fact they are ruining D’s life and career. And if you are a fan you need to start opening your eyes and stop being an enabler. I swear you should feel guilty when he will come out because you helped keeping him in the closet.

Talk about dellusionville!

**********Edit Edit *******(X)

chrisdarebashfulsmiles Because there’s a power of attorney that allows RR and Ab to do so. To say something D has to prove that the article is harmful and he has to do it through a legal action. And this means breach of contract with all it entails like the two years of stop from signing an anything.

That IS NOT how “power of attorney” works. But nice try- 10 points for originality and imagination!

***Edit Edit Edit *********

Anonymous asked: An article you should read to help you understand how journalism works .tinyurl/com/y9s49tms. German Reporter At Der Spiegel Fired for Fabricating Stories “On A Grand Scale”. “I’m so angry, horrified, shocked, stunned,” Der Spiegel deputy foreign editor Mathieu von Rohr tweeted Wednesday. “Claas Relotius faked, he cheated on us all.” Journalists can’t just make up stories or publish falsities no matter how much you want to believe that is happening in Hollywood.

chrisdarebashfulsmiles answered: It’s amazing how is crystal clear that you never worked in a magazine or in a PR firm. I work since 2004 and I don’t need an article… I know how it works. We aren’t talking about WSJ and serious stuff. We are talking about gossip and showbusiness so don’t try to be smug because you are failing.

Have nice day/ night wherever you are. :) it’s evening here and I’m enjoying my free time.

bjpb8 Oh, my gosh who is this person. People thrive on gossip and “Rags”. IT SELLS. First begain with papers like En/quire, The Globe, etc. Then spread to SM with blinds. You think other magazines and papers do not want to make money. Everyone prints what sells depending on audiences. Embellishment is part of the trade. They want to catch your interest, which feeds right into what PR wants to sell! Tts a sybiotic relationship at best! It is just some are more talented at making what sounds like truth out of lies. Its called entertainment. You might want ro “read” about it.

The author of the Bustle interview has a master’s degree in journalism from CUNY New York so it is more like the wall street journal than it is the “website” you work for Valentina. Journalists have a degree in journalism. Anyone can be a blogger - you’ve proved that.

****Edit Edit Edit Edit *******

D/arren did not write that post! (X)

12/19/18

ajw720 I have enough faith in Dar/ren Cri/ss personality and his respect and love for his fans to know that the comments attributed to him were not his. I’ve seem this happen before…I’m sure many of you have, also. Darr/en is stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. When he finally writes a memoir about this time, he will let us know about his anquish, anger and remorse. If one is a TRUE CC and Dar/ren fan, after years of roller-coaster rides via PR, et al…I will continue to take the advice of the person that runse THIS SITE. “Trust the process…”

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

@geminess We have to trust the process and believe that C and D are working hard towards an ending to this absolute tragedy that is legally clean and does not jeopardize either of their careers.

I believe in them, I cannot accept that D would ever willingly choose to represent himself in this manner and to continue this nightmare of a charade surrounded by utterly and completely vile, disgusting human beings.

Please, please, please may we be right. I cannot repeat enough there is no alternative ending that is acceptable but D breaking free by ending this sham of an encage, severing ties with his inhumane team, and eventually coming out.

And yesterday proved once again just how frightening the alternative is. I would fear for his career and his life. And it baffles and amazes me that anyone watching, even if you believe he is the straightest man alive, cannot see how harmful that article was. It was like he used the LGBT+ community to win his awards and is now ready to dismiss them.

(X) 12/19/18

Anonymous asked: On the bright side, this means we’re coming to the end right?

ajw720 answered: Anon, we honestly don’t know, but we can only hope. If D extends his time with these assholes, it will be very ugly for him personally and professionally.

But logic seems to say that this article, the literally offends every fan but the blind and naive, is wholly unnecessary if in fact they are going to continue a professional relationships. And it did not just the fans, think about how many award voters they offended yesterday with that utter piece of crap.

Absolutely and utterly unreal. Hard to believe they are able to get away with working against their client at every turn.

Logic? One thing the cc fandom has proven in the last 10 years is that they do not understand or care about logic.

12/24/18 (X)

ajw720 It’s interesting how there are such varying opinions on the “straight boy” article. And I think it comes down to 2 questions:

1. Do you believe D is a willing participant in his closeting?

2. Do you believe he actually said what the article alleges?

My answer to both is a resounding no (though he will be forced to validate the comments) and I have good reason to think this. But I certainly see why ones perspective is different if you answer one or both as yes.

This being said, no matter your answers to the above, I don’t see how it can be justified that he would dismiss b/laine in such a manner. And the timing, because I still think it makes him look like an ass and /or a coward as awards are voted for playing queer. And to repeat, I don’t think he should play queer again until his team is dismissed, so I’m not disagreeing with the premise, just the manner it was done, which again, I believe was without his consent.

Not posting to start a fight. Everyone is entitled to an opinion. I clearly am not afraid to state mine, which is very reasoned and based on a lot of information I’ve collected.

Just interesting that some very intelligent people, all of whom believe he’s closeted, can vary so much in what they believe.

#crisscolfer #Darren criss #Bustle #gay representation

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velvetchen · 5 years

Text

Bound | pt. i

[ back to masterlist ]

genre: angst, some fluff - arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au member: sehun word count: 6k warnings: angst i guess?

summary: How do you know which things are better left unsaid?

a/n: okay i KNOW i said writing hiatus but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and i have no idea if this fic will go anywhere since i didn’t plan anything but..here you go!

next part >>

The night Kyungsoo tells you ‘maybe we should take a break’ for the third time this month, you know it’s over. He’s nice about it, of course. He’s always nice. But you know that your relationship isn’t going anywhere, and have known it for the month and a half you’ve been officially dating. Which is why he doesn’t complain when you start to cry right there in the park where he asked you for a walk. He wraps his jacket around you, resting his hand over your shoulder as you sniffle, embarrassed, and rummage in your bag for tissues.

“It’s okay,” he says, and if Kyungsoo says it’s okay, it is. You both part ways right there on the bridge, in a moment that for any other couple would be romantic, picturesque - with the full moon glimmering over the lake below, and the soft glow of streetlamps seeping through the trees above. You know that once you leave, you won’t have any reason to see each other again.

Perhaps that’s just the way it should be.

You would have been okay with that, would have gone home feeling not as heavy as you should have had it not started raining on the walk home. Seven blocks separate you from the comfort of your apartment when the first drops hit your head. You barely take a few more steps before it’s a full-out downpour, and you’re completely soaked through. Your hair hangs limply around your face, your clothes quickly plaster to your skin, and the chill of the night invades.

The tears come back. You clasp your arms tightly around yourself as you trudge back home, the rain showing no signs of letting up. When you finally struggle into the lobby of your apartment building, you leave a sodden trail towards the stairs.

When you manage to drag yourself into your apartment, it’s dark and quiet. It isn’t too late, but Minji had gone out earlier, so you suppose you’re alone for now. All the better - you want to be alone right now, want to have the privilege of drowning in your misery before reality hits you again. But first, you’re cold and wet and your face is sticky from tears and rain. You shut yourself into the bathroom, the silence feeling heavy as you sit down under the stream of hot water in the shower.

You come out twenty long minutes later, swathed in your blanket, and wearing your softest pajamas. Your ‘breakup pajamas’, you call them.

You’re surprised to find Minji there, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her laptop propped up in front of her. There are extra pillows next to her, and snacks on the table. “I made you some ramen, too,” she calls when you’re halfway down. “It’s on the table.”

A small smile slips onto your face. Somehow, she knows when you need someone to sit beside you in silence as you eat ice cream and watch Netflix, when you’re still smarting from a broken heart.

Kyungsoo is your thirteenth breakup, and the one that hurts the most. Which is why Minji seems to be extra understanding. She sits in silence as you curl up on the couch next to her with the cup of ramen, which is perfect, just the way you like it, as you try to follow the movie she’s watching. You eat in silence, taking longer than usual to finish, and when you’re done you put the cup away and lean back on the couch.

Minji mutes the movie. “Do you want to talk about it?” She asks carefully.

You usually don’t, but this one time… “Okay,” you say.

She shifts slightly so she’s facing you. You take a deep breath, unsure where to start. “I…think you can guess what happened. He broke up with me. I mean, not explicitly at first, but I knew. We don’t work together, and as much as I care for him, we just realized it wasn’t…going anywhere.”

You and Kyungsoo had chemistry. Off-the-charts chemistry, Bora had said. You first met him at a career fair, and you spent the whole hour staring at him, and he spent the whole hour staring back at you. At one point you couldn’t take it anymore and you walked up to him and introduced yourself. He took you home and gave you (arguably) the best night of your life. You hooked up three times before he asked you to properly date him, one night as he was spooning you, his velvety voice in the shell of your ear.

You had chemistry, but you didn’t make sense together. You both wanted different things. He never said so - he was too nice - but you could tell that he was unsure about your dating history. You knew he wanted something permanent, something steady and smoldering instead of a spark that flared and fizzled out. Which was all you had.

Surprisingly, even as you tell Minji this, you don’t cry. You don’t feel hollow or worn out. “I hope he finds someone who’s right for him,” you murmur. “He deserves it.”

“You really care for him,” Minji observes.

“I do,” you say. “But enough about that. It’s over. Done. I have to move on, right?” You laugh, a hint of irony seeping in.

Minji gives you a sympathetic smile, and leans onto your shoulder, patting your arm comfortingly. Then, something strikes and she springs up to look at you, a hint of something sparkling in her eye. You know that look - it’s her ‘I’m your best friend and you’re going to do what I say’ look. You pull away, wary. “What?”

“I read about this thing,” she says, trying very hard not to smile. “It’s like an experiment or something like that. A study? Anyway, I think it would be perfect for you.”

“What is it?” You’re almost scared to hear what this newest idea is.

“It’s an experiment on love,” she grins. “You sign up, and they pair you up with someone for six months based on how compatible you are. And you have to stay with them for those six months, live in the same house and do normal relationship things, but the catch? You don’t get to know who your partner is until the wedding.”

“Sounds…” you start, then backtrack. “Wait, what? Did you say wedding?”

“Yes, a wedding! And then you go on a honeymoon and stuff, and after the six months you can choose to stay married, if, you know, they end up being your true love, or you can get a completely legal divorce.” She winks. “Their last study had an eighty percent success rate. And the honeymoon is all expenses paid.”

“Honeymoon?” You repeat dumbly. “Minji, I don’t - I don’t want to get married. I just want a romance. To, like, enjoy life.” Never mind the growing doubt in your head now, after this, that maybe you’re just not cut out for that. That love isn’t for you - that maybe, you don’t believe in it anymore. Maybe you should stop trying.

“It’s like a trial!” she argues. “Besides, what if you actually end up finding the love of your life? It’s worth it!” She gives you a meaningful look, and your mind flicks over all the failed relationships you’ve had over the past few years. And you brush over your most recent wound: Kyungsoo.

“What if I don’t, though?” You mutter, turning away and tucking your knees up into your chest as you chew at your bottom lip. “What if it doesn’t work out, again, and I’m stuck with them for six months?”

Minji pats your knee. “Have some faith, Y/N. If you keep worrying about things not working out, then you never really have the chance to let go and just…enjoy the moment.”

You don’t know what to say to that, except that she’s right. To some extent. Maybe you are too caught up in the fact that things don’t work out for you, and that’s why they don’t.

“So?” she nudges you. “What do you say? Will you do it?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“I just want you to be happy, Y/N,” she groans. “Like, really. I’m trying my best here.”

“I know,” you crack a smile. “Okay, maybe I’ll check it out. For your sake only.”

She flings her arms around your neck. “Thank you! Thank you thank you. You’ll sign up, you’ll find the perfect partner, and I’ll say I told you so.”

“Of course you will. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

Minji heads back home later - Baekhyun comes over to pick her up, and even as you wave goodbye to them you’re hit with the solid pang of jealousy in your gut as you watch him kiss her temple and help her into the car, both of them giggling at something he’d said.

That pang is what makes you whirl around and head to your computer. Your fingers hover over the keys for just a moment before you type in the words: Project Cupid.

Their website is sleek and businesslike, not the pink-and-red extravaganza more fitting for Valentine’s Day that you were expecting. Everything seems legitimate, and you even have to admit their description is attractive:

At Project Cupid we endeavor to study the true constituents of love. What makes it bloom? What makes it tick? And what keeps it going? This is why we ask you for help. We ask you to put your trust (and your heart) in our hands as we pair you with someone who is at least eighty percent compatible with you in all aspects - emotionally, physically, even astrologically.

Though this is an experiment for us, for you we hope it will be so much more. A chance for you to find what everyone seeks and what hundreds of stories and folk tales have exalted for centuries: true love.

You scan the site, heart thudding unnecessarily fast as you navigate to the ‘apply now’ page. Should you do this? Is it worth the risk of another heartbreak, perhaps worse, just for the chance at true love?

The questions are intimate. Really intimate. There are things you’ve never even thought of by yourself, much less came close to thinking about in the context of relationships. You never lasted long enough with anyone to really think about these things - well, except for one person. Is family important to you? Do you value honesty or loyalty? What do you look for in a partner above all else? And questions that you wouldn’t expect to have anything to do with a matchmaking service. What emotions does the color blue evoke for you? Where did your parents go to school? Questions that make you blush fiercely, even as you answer them as truthfully as you can. Do you enjoy being sexually active? What kinds of activities excite you during intimate moments with your partner?

When you come to the last section, though, the part where you have to read through the legal terms and book an interview with someone who’ll complete your profile and have you sign papers - you hesitate. It’s taken you three hours to spill everything about yourself into an online form that’ll be sent to people you don’t know, for them to review and pair you with someone whom you don’t know. You’ve laid yourself bare here. Somewhere, the person you’ll be paired with has filled out the same form too.

The thought hits you full force. This is real. If you click submit, then you’ll be matched with someone. A real person. Who’ll be given the power to make you fall in love with them, to break your heart.

You can’t do it. You can’t go through with it. Minji will understand, won’t she?

If you save your profile now, you can come back to edit it at a later date. You click save and turn off your computer, the dark of your room closing around you.

Junmyeon is wonderful. The kind of boyfriend that everyone dreams about coming home to, settling into a comfortable life with. He’s that kind of person for you, too. Bora is your mutual friend, and when she says a childhood friend of hers recently contacted her and she’d like you to come with her to meet him, you’re not expecting a set-up. You should have, though. Bora knows it’s been over a month since you and Kyungsoo broke up, and you’ve been on two dates since then, neither of which led anywhere. Dates number fourteen and fifteen were both startlingly similar to Kyungsoo in hindsight, but you hadn’t had any of the same chemistry.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve gone out now. Junmyeon is a refreshing change. In some ways he’s very much like Kyungsoo, too, ways that you can’t help but notice - he’s dependable, hardworking, sweet, considerate, nice to a fault. But he’s different, too, and you find yourself liking that. He’s soft where Kyungsoo was rough, he’s steadfast where Kyungsoo yielded.

On your third date, you stop comparing him to Kyungsoo. On your fifth, you confess to Minji that you think you might be in love, with the operating word being ‘think’. There’s still that dark cloud lingering in the back of your mind. After so many failed relationships, failed opportunities, there’s nothing that guarantees this won’t be a failure, too. The words sink down in your gut every time you consider it - you just aren’t made for love.

Still, Junmyeon is a comfortable presence in your life, and you don’t hate yourself enough to push him away. Not now. You don’t stop to wonder if you’re taking things too fast. He’s nearly four years older than you, but you don’t mind, and he doesn’t either. You spend nearly every night at his apartment instead of yours. You let him take you shopping. You wake up next to him in the mornings, tracing the lines of his lips and nose in the early sunlight as he pulls you closer in his sleep; blush as he kisses the palm of your hand and says, voice husky from sleep, “Good morning, beautiful.”

It feels like a honeymoon. This is it, you think. He’s the one. Everything is perfect, just the way you always wanted, and you’re finally thinking things might settle down for you. You’ve had fifteen bad endings. You don’t need a sixteenth. You’ve found your happy ever after, and the part of your mind that is whispering to you that this delusion will eventually shatter is pushed down into a box that you quietly pack away and hope you never have to open again.

Junmyeon leaves for a business trip the next weekend, and you come back home. It feels strange - home is with Junmyeon now, with the steady kind of rhythm you both had built over the last month and a half - he never explicitly asked you to move in, it just happened, and neither of you are complaining. Home is waking up to him, eating dinner together when he takes a break from work to spend time with you, and curling up in his lap and talking as he runs your fingers through your hair before bed.

This is new for you. You’ve never had anything this comfortable, this constant. Junmyeon is everything you could have wanted and more, which is why you can’t escape the feeling that this is too good to be true.

You pluck up the courage to talk to him about the future one day. You figure that it’s better to ask him about his plans now than after you’re completely headfirst in love with him, too deep to swim out. There’s only one way you can think of to calm your nerves - the moment you’ve both washed your dishes from dinner, you corner him against the fridge and box him in.

A mischievous look slips onto his face. “Already, Y/N? You couldn’t wait until we went to bed?”

“No,” you admit, placing an open-mouthed kiss on the side of his neck, coming down to suck at the curve between his throat and shoulder. He shivers, his reactions always satisfying. “I couldn’t.” You pull away abruptly and grab him by the hand, leading him inside.

In the space after you’ve both finished, laying panting on the sheets as the cool air brushes across your skin, you ask him. He’s turned off the bedside lamp, and you’re comfortably curled up into his chest. His hand is curved over your bare back, and he strokes it up and down as he watches you speak.

“Junmyeon,” you begin, “do you want…a family someday?” It’s too dark to see his reaction, but you’re already feeling like you’ve crossed a line, so you quickly backtrack. “I mean, not necessarily with me, I know we’ve only been together a few months, but would you ever…have you considered it?”

He chuckles. “Of course I’ve thought about it. And I’ve thought about a family…with you, too. It’s been long enough that the thought has crossed my mind.” You wait expectantly. “And?”

“Yes, I do,” he says, somewhat wistfully. “Someday. I gave it plenty of thought, and I want to focus on my career for now. I’m still on my way up, and I want to come to a stable place before I make any outside commitments. Besides, you know how busy things get these days.” You can hear the frown in his voice - you know he hates that.

You hum sympathetically. “I wish you didn’t have to spend so much time working,” you murmur into his skin. “But yeah, I understand. And I know you’ll be successful.”

“You’re always so flattering,” he chuckles, and rolls onto his back, pulling you up with him so you can pillow your head on the broad expanse of his chest.

“Because I’m proud of you,” you say. “What about…us, though?”

“Hmm,” he says. “I like how we are right now. We didn’t plan anything out. I like that. I think we should just see how it goes like this.”

You smile, but the fact that that isn’t a promise sits heavy in your stomach. The box in the attic of your head starts to peel open again.

Junmyeon breaks up with you over a phone call. In a way.

Maybe you’re exaggerating. It’s not a breakup - more like a mutual agreement of termination. Junmyeon is too tidy, too sophisticated, for a breakup. Like signing a contract, snapping a stick, but nowhere near as clean. He leaves you with ragged edges and even less hope than you had before you started dating him.

He gets the offer on your three-month anniversary, during your obligatory fancy dinner, and excuses himself to take the call. When he comes back, he’s elated - it shows on his face. You’ve never seen him this happy.

You lean forward, over the table, bursting with curiosity. “What is it?”

“I got a promotion,” he says, and grins ear to ear, his eyes turning into shining half-moons. “To regional director. They want me to take over managing the whole branch.”

You gasp, reaching for his hand. “Junmyeon, that’s incredible. I’m..I’m so proud of you.”

His smile grows broader, if that’s even possible. “I’m honored to hear you to say that about me.” And then his face falls. “But I didn’t mention…the position is for their Tokyo office. I’ll have to move.”

Your heart sinks like an anchor, but you try your hardest to keep the dejection off your face. “That’s okay. I know you’ll be perfectly fine.”

“What about us? I can’t ask you to move with me,” he says, and you hate so much to see that his excitement over the offer is dampened by this. By you. You’ve always known this - that his career comes first - but it hurts just the same, it really does.

“I can’t go,” you agree softly. You can’t leave your education for him. Tokyo is a whole sea away - even visiting now and then is out of the question. “It’s fine. We’ll figure out the…the long distance thing.”

He stares at you long and hard. You can feel his conflict, almost see the wheels turning in his head. He’s trying, you know, trying to find a way. Then he shakes his head. He can’t meet your eyes now; he thumbs the skin on your wrist as his voice lowers. “I don’t know if we can. The time difference…and I’ll be busy a lot. My workload will be even worse than it is now.”

You swallow.

“I can’t do that to you,” he murmurs. “It would be selfish of me to keep you when I know I won’t be able to give you what you deserve.”

You want to offer to try it out for a while, but close your mouth before the words slip out. You know how busy Junmyeon is. He makes time for you now, sure, and you know at what cost he does. You can’t put the extra stress on him of having to find ways to spend time with you while he’s in another country, in a different time zone, with a workload so tough he’ll barely have time for himself.

Nodding quietly, you squeeze his hand. “When do you leave?”

Minji finds you crying over an empty carton of ice cream after you come back from the airport and text her to come over. You’re sure you look pathetic, laid out on the floor, your hair a mess, tears staining your cheeks and your pillow, but you don’t care. Alarmed, she turns on the light and you groan, raising your arm to cover your eyes. “Minji,” you drag out her name. “Turn it off. I’m sensitive.”

She doesn’t. She rolls his eyes as he squats down beside you, plucking the empty carton from your hand and heading over to throw it away. “Stop wallowing in your despair.”

“Just one day,” you plead. “I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“If by ‘fine’ you mean chasing after the next person who’ll break your heart…”

It might just be because you’re still smarting from Junmyeon leaving, but that cuts a little too deep. “It’s not like I actively seek out people for that purpose.”

“I gave you a solution! You chose not to listen to me!”

“Yes, because I had Junmyeon-”

“And now you don’t! Why are you so scared to take risks, Y/N?”

You groan and bury your head in your pillow. “Because I’ve taken so many, and all of them end up with me like this! I’m…Just let me be sad for today, okay?”

“That’s what you say every time,” she comments, but her hand rubs comfortingly over your back.

You must fall asleep, because you wake up in the dead of night with a sticky note stuck to your forehead. Grumbling, you pull it off.

I had to leave 4 a night out with B but I made you some dinner!! Love, ur BEST FRIEND

P.S. don’t be an idiot!!! You know what im talking about!!

Minji has indeed left you dinner on the stove, and she’s also surreptitiously left your laptop on the counter with your Project Cupid website open. Another sticky note is stuck to the screen: DO IT!!!

You let out a long sigh, ignoring the laptop for a moment as you go over to pull a bowl from the cabinet. She’s right; you are unwilling to take risks, but isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Trying again and again, taking the risk of someone breaking your heart and then dealing with it anyway. How is this any different? You drag a chair over to the counter and sit down, glaring at the logo on the screen as you mull it over.

You can’t say it won’t hurt, because it probably will. The chance of you, with your current track record, finding your dream partner from a random matchmaking service - no, an experiment - and having everything sail smooth from day one is realistically zero. The chance of you finding someone who will truly love you, someone whom you can spend your life - or at least a good chunk of it - with, considering your track record, is realistically zero.

How is this different from you dating sixteen people in the fruitless hope that you’ll find the one?

Then it strikes you, like a blow to the chest, that the reason you don’t want to go through with this is because you believe it might actually work. At that, your brain starts reeling. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting for?

You stand up, leaving the Project Cupid page open to the submit button and pacing around the kitchen. “I can’t do this sober,” you mutter to yourself, and head over to your wine cupboard. With your head fuzzy, the conundrum you’re facing doesn’t seem so hard.

Three glasses later, you almost can’t think straight. “Fuck it,” you say, and press submit.

The email confirmation greets you the next morning, when you wake up with your head pounding and the light from your phone screen threatens to make your skull explode. But you’ve done it. You’ve done it, and you feel like an utter idiot now that the implications have set in, but it’s too late to take it back.

Dear Y/N,

Thank you for your application to Project Cupid! We take our applicants very seriously. A committee of dedicated reviewers will go over your application, evaluate it with very specific, expert-verified criteria, and eventually pair you with someone who we think best matches you in every aspect. To follow up on your application, we’d like you to meet up with an interviewer - attached is the contact information for the interviewer in your area. Please discuss a time and location that works for you so we can go ahead with the matching process.

Here’s to true love, The Project Cupid Team

Your interview is a week and a half later, at a coffee shop that you frequent often. Minji can’t hold in her excitement as she offers to drive you there on her way to Baekhyun’s - you’re trapped in the passenger seat with mortification still bubbling up in your chest.

“I’m so proud of you, Y/N,” Minji says, and the look on her face is so sappy that you can’t help but smack her arm lightly.

“This was a complete mistake. I did this in a moment of weakness,” you mumble, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. It’s just the interviewer you’re meeting - not even your future partner - but you’ve taken the same care in dressing up that you would for an actual date, even going so far as to curl your hair and put on more than just mascara.

“It’s not a mistake, trust me,” Minji insists. “This will all be worth it, I promise.”

“Well, I’m holding you to that,” you tease. You take a deep breath as you rearrange the strap of your handbag, and Minji brings the car to a stop a block away from the Brim, the coffee shop you’re supposed to meet at.

“I believe in you!” Minji grins, and you blow her a kiss as you step out and head inside.

The Brim is mostly empty - just your luck. The few patrons that are here are hunched over laptops or their phones, and Minseok, the barista you’ve become familiar with, isn’t behind the counter today. Your interviewer isn’t here, either. I’m wearing a bright pink shirt and heels, she’d laughed over the phone conversation you had this morning. There’s no way you can miss me.

You pay for your coffee and then settle for the most secluded spot available - a little booth tucked away by the window that is partially hidden from view by a large statement art wall. You’ve only been scrolling through your phone for a few minutes before you hear a familiar voice. You look up and bright pink fills your vision. “Hi, Y/N,” Tiffany beams, and slides into the seat opposite you without any further preamble. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s alright,” you say, voice catching, and you clear your throat as subtly as possible.

“So, let’s get right to business,” she says, and pulls out a file from her bag. “This is your application, and I’m going to ask you to talk a little more about some of it before we get on to the official interview questions, okay?”

“Sure.” Your face heats up a little when you think about some of the stuff you had to write on the application. “I can choose not to answer a question if I want, right?”

She shakes her head vigorously. “Of course you can. You have no obligation to tell us anything you aren’t comfortable talking about.”

“Right,” you say. “What’s first?”

“How’d it go?” You can hear Minji practically bouncing over the phone. Baekhyun’s laugh is audible behind her.

“It went pretty well,” you admit. Tiffany was nice, and like she promised, she didn’t pry. She’d listened to you carefully, taking notes occasionally in neat black ink, and interrupted here and there with anecdotes that lightened the mood. “I feel considerably better about this whole mess now.”

“Did they say when you’ll be paired?”

“A month from now,” you frown. “And the weddings-” you choke a little on the word “-a couple of weeks after that. I’m not going to go on any dates while I wait. I’ll just enjoy my alone time while I can.”

Minji laughs. “Guess what this means, Y/N.”

“What?”

“It means I totally win our bet from second year of university about you getting married before me.”

You whine. “This doesn’t count! It’s not an actual wedding.”

“Yeah, but if - when - this works out and you decide to live happily ever after with whomever they pair you up with…” she trails off. “In any case, you owe me…crap. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

“Neither do I,” you confess, laughing. “But if - when - this works out, I’ll definitely take you out for dinner, on me.”

Minji’s voice softens. “I’m happy to see you finally having some hope again, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, even though she can’t see you. “Better hoping than dreading, I guess.”

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations!

After considerable thought and thorough deliberation, you’ve been matched! We sincerely hope that our efforts are not in vain, and that this opportunity gives you love and a fulfilling relationship. Your partner is a perfect match in almost every aspect - our experts estimate that your compatibility lies between 80 and 90 percent, one of the highest rates in this round of Project Cupid!

According to the conditions of our experiment, we cannot disclose any details about your partner to you before the fixed date of your ceremony, which will be negotiated with both of you in the coming weeks. At the ceremony, you will get to meet them for the first time: an exciting, magical moment that we hope you’re looking forward to as much as we are!

Here’s to true love, The Project Cupid Team

“I’m calling to invite you to my wedding,” you laugh over the phone.

“Has it been decided?” Again, Minji can’t contain her excitement. “I’m going to be right there next to you. Honestly, I’m tearing up just thinking about it. My best friend is getting married. Wow.”

“Minji,” you pout, but then you’re smiling, her mood contagious. “Anyway, it’s not a proper wedding, they said. It’s just a contract that we sign that binds us together, but we’re not given ‘married’ status on any legal terms. The actual wedding is…we can have one after the experiment period is over, if we decide to stay together.”

“I’m coming anyway,” Minji says, “and so is Baekhyun, and I am taking you shopping this weekend because you have to make a good impression on your future life partner.”

“He’s going to live with me for six months and see me in old t-shirts and my rat-nest hair anyway,” you say, and speaking the words out loud really hits you like a stone. You’re going to live with a complete stranger - never mind the 80 percent compatibility - for six months. You’re going to try to fall in love with them. They’re going to try and fall in love with you. The next breath you take catches a little in your chest.

“You okay?” Minji asks, concern evident.

“I’m good, I’m good,” you say. “Anyway, shopping this weekend?”

“Or else!”

The Project Cupid office is sleek and futuristic, with glass and steel everything and a stunning view over the expanse of the city. The woman at the front desk leads you to a waiting room, which is far more extravagant than you ever expected, and a few moments later someone comes in with glasses of champagne for you, Minji, and Baekhyun.

You can’t sit still, and your stomach is in no condition to process alcohol, so you hand your glass to Baekhyun, who takes it gladly. “I don’t know, but I’d never pass up free stuff, especially when it’s champagne this expensive.”

“I don’t really want it,” you say in a small voice, staring at the flecks of gold leaf on the pastries they’ve left in the table in the middle of the room. Minji rubs your back comfortingly. The dress you picked - a classy deep emerald green that falls right above your knees - is suddenly stifling, and all you want is to be out of this office and back home, where you don’t have to worry about getting married - for all intents and purposes - to a complete stranger.

This is it. This is the big day. Minji clasps your hand in hers. “Everything is going to be just fine,” she murmurs, her voice as comforting as ever. “You’ve got this.”

Your stomach is still churning when a knock sounds on the door and Tiffany pushes her head in, a broad smile on her face. “Morning, Y/N! We’re all ready for you, so if you are, we can have you meet your partner.”

“Oh god,” you say, but it comes out as an unintelligible groan. Baekhyun snorts, and Minji kicks him lightly. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine, I’m great. Let’s go.” You stand up, too suddenly, and Minji has to wrap her arm around you to steady you.

Tiffany gives you an encouraging smile, and - this is it. This is what you’ve been waiting this whole time for.

The hallway down to the signing office feels far more constricting than it really is. You have your arms crossed tight over your chest, and you stumble a little in the heels Minji picked out for you. The walk down seems like a million miles, but then it’s over, and you’re at the door of the signing office.

“After you,” Tiffany says, and with a deep breath, you push inside.

You can see the back of his head. His hair is jet black and falls with that perfect mix of casual and perfect around his face. He’s wearing a forest green suit. We’re matching, observes the part of your brain that’s still functioning. He’s sitting in front of the desk, but you can see that he’s tall. Pretty tall. Fit. Well-groomed.

You feel like you might fall over, and then the woman behind the desk, facing you, looks up at you with a smile. “You’re here,” she says, and the man - your partner - turns around.

And you think you might be sick, because you know him. His face is achingly familiar, every slope and angle of it engraved in your mind. The tilt of his brows, the shape of his lips. The ghost of what he looks like when he smiles.

He stands up. He is very tall, and his face shadows when he looks at you - recognition flashing for a moment in his eyes. Yet he doesn’t say anything. The woman gives you an encouraging nod, and he holds out his hand for you to shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m your partner, Oh Sehun.”

“Likewise,” you choke out. “Y/N Y/L/N.” His voice is as smooth, as warm as you remember it, before -

“You look wonderful together,” Tiffany beams, and you feel like you’re about to collapse any moment now. Deep breaths, you tell yourself, as she guides you over to sit in front of the desk. Next to him. Next to Oh Sehun. The man who promised you, almost ten years ago, that you would never meet again.

Your hands are shaking when you sign the contract. You don’t know what you’re doing - your brain is on autopilot. It’s only when you step out of the room ten nerve-wracking minutes later that you remember you had the right to refuse the contract. That you had one last chance to withdraw from the program, no hard feelings intended, but by now it’s too late.

The minute you burst back into the waiting room, Minji takes in the look of utter panic on your face and hurries toward you. “What’s wrong? Y/N, what happened?”

You fall into her. “Minji, it’s him,” you sob, the flood of memories hitting you again, all at once. “It’s him. My partner is Oh Sehun.”

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akisazame · 5 years

Text

“Okay, weird pillow talk.”

The DVD commentary meme got me thinking about cut content, which reminded me of this huge swath of words I had to bulldoze out of Greg’s chapter of solutions because they were just not going the way I needed them to. What really bummed me out about this is that my personal favorite bits of Greg/Rebecca dialogue that I wrote happened to be in there, and at the time I wasn’t using tumblr so I figured it’d all just sit in my slush file until the end of time because there was such a slim chance I’d ever write a fic where I could reincorporate it. WELL NOW I’M BACK ON THIS BAD WEBSITE SO HERE IT IS.

This text is obviously kinda rough since it never went through my probably-too-rigorous revisions wringer, so that and an absurd amount of commentary are behind the Read More.

The first draft of Greg’s chapter went swimmingly right up until the necessary conflict of Rebecca and Greg hashing out all the weird bullshit inherent in 104′s plot. My first tactic had Rebecca swinging wildly for the fences, really cashing in on the theme of Greg identifying himself as a runner-up and Rebecca’s inability to stop thinking about the other guys (but like, come on, Nathaniel is clearly a better kisser than Greg). This picks up directly after their post-kiss “I know I’m just some dalliance to you” argument, but instead of Rebecca softening in the face of Greg’s “I bet you say that to all the guys” comment, she bristles and drops a truth bomb.

She hates this, she hates this so much, and she panics. "I moved to West Covina for Josh Chan," Rebecca blurts out. She hadn't meant to say it, has no idea why she said it. It's absurd, after the excessive word mincing she did when she actually was trying to say it to Josh, to just casually drop it now as a non-sequitur. She slaps both her hands over her mouth and stares at Greg, wide-eyed.

And that’s exactly what Greg has been waiting to hear.

There's a long beat where Greg just stares right back at her. Then he scrubs both hands over his face and sighs. "Thank you."

Rebecca blinks. "What?"

"For being honest," Greg says. He shrugs and sticks his hands into his pockets, nonchalant. "I'll just be going then? Great. Have a nice life, Rebecca."

He's halfway to the door before Rebecca fully processes what's happening. It can't happen like this. She can't fuck this up again. "Can you please just hear me out?"

For a half second she thinks he'll ignore her and keep walking, out the door and out of her life. But he doesn't. He stops, turns, looks back at her. She can't interpret the expression on his face.

In a way this all rings true, but at the same time it doesn’t feel earned, and a dramatic storm-out definitely wasn’t the way to go with a time travel redo of a scene that ends with Greg dramatically storming out.

She finds her way to the couch and sits, elbows resting on her knees, chin cupped in her palms. "I moved to West Covina for Josh Chan," she repeats, the thesis statement of her whole goddamn life. "And when I did it, I thought that Josh Chan was the only person who could possibly make me happy. But that's not true at all." Those damned emotions are back again, and she takes a deep breath, swallows them down. "I haven't been fair or even nice to you since the moment we met."

I really liked the “thesis statement of her whole goddamn life” line. “I haven’t been fair or even nice to you since the moment we met” was luckily resurrected for Rebecca’s post-coital crisis.

As she spoke, Greg had been slowly making his way back through the apartment, and now he lowers himself down next to her on the couch. "I'd say that's accurate."

Rebecca tilts her head in her hands to look at him. "But, uh, don't take this the wrong way? You haven't been especially fair or nice to me, either."

Here’s where the published chapter dipped back in for a hot second: Rebecca asked what the purpose of their date was, except instead of “Why waste your time, if you didn’t think it could go anywhere?” she said “It’s pretty clear you never believed any of my lies about Josh.” Then they had the whole “maybe liked or maybe past tense” back-and-forth, leading into the kiss. But instead of really going to town on Greg’s face, Rebecca softballs it (can you tell I did a surgical 180 on “It's the type of kiss that Rebecca, who's never learned how to modulate her feelings of affection, truly excels in”? because I fuckin forgot I did that), and then realizes she has more shit to say because first draft Rebecca was massively self-destructive.

She slides her hands down to his shoulders and breaks the kiss, but she doesn't move away, instead pressing her forehead to his, noses touching. "Hey," she says, breathless, "I need to tell you something." Before it's too late, she doesn't add.

"Lot of things you have to tell me today," Greg teases. He tries to pull away, maybe to silence her with another kiss, but she holds firm, arms encircling his neck to keep him in place.

I thought Greg’s reply was really cute (I imagined it in the same cadence as “Long name I have, what is that, Polish?”), but I’m sure he liked getting a blowjob better.

I have to tell you today because we might not get another chance, she thinks frantically. Rebecca's allergy to honesty poisoned so many of her relationships, but it manifested at its worst with Greg, who almost seemed as though he wanted to be lied to. When she told him he wasn't second place, he wanted to believe it. Even today he'd admitted that he wanted to pretend she could love him best. As much as she wants to tell him that again, it's not healthy. It's never been healthy.

Part of the reason all this had to go was that the drama overstayed its welcome. By this point it felt like the whole thing was needlessly treading water.

She closes her eyes and swallows, choking back her doubts. None of this is real anyway, Greg had said. He's wrong, at least for right now, but he could be right. If she really screws this up, she can throw it all away. Maybe that's cowardly, but it's the only thing giving her courage. "The truth is, I've spent a truly embarrassing amount of today thinking about other guys."

"Okay, weird pillow talk," Greg mutters.

GREG IS SO FUNNY IN THIS DRAFT OH MY GOD. I’m sorry, Greg. But, again, you got that blowjob you’d been waiting for, so.

"You thanked me for being honest," Rebecca shoots back, leaning back just a bit so she can glare at him, "so I'm gonna keep being honest. When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about another guy. Right before you picked me up, I was thinking about two other guys. When we were at the taco festival, talking about stuff, sometimes I was thinking about other guys." She presses her lips together, exhales through her nose. "When you were kissing me in the kitchen, I was thinking about another guy."

I don’t know why I thought I had to give Rebecca’s inner monologue its due diligence, because it’s so completely unnecessary. At this point I’d been noodling away at this chapter for a month and a half (for whatever reason, the Homeland Security Advisory System section when Greg and Rebecca get back to her apartment was the very first thing in the document) and I was coming off of having mostly finalized Josh’s chapter, so I guess I thought complete reckless honesty was Rebecca’s natural evolution.

Greg has clearly had enough of whatever he thinks she's trying to do, because he reaches up and unhooks her arms from around his neck. "Okay, stop..."

"What I'm trying to say is," Rebecca says, wriggling free from his grasp and reversing it, grabbing hold of his wrists, "I'm not gonna, like, never be thinking about anyone else when I'm with you, because I don't have one of those Men In Black memory erasers, despite the fact that I could really use one sometimes, and also because I'm a person, who interacts with other people, and has feelings about other people." He's just staring at her, incredulous, and part of her wishes she hadn't done this, that she had just played along with him from the moment they stepped into the apartment, but how would that have changed anything apart from not having to waste half a year hating each other? "But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of putting you first. I know I can. I'm sorry I've done such a terrible job of proving it."

NOW WE’RE IN IT. This is the part I hated cutting, the part I tried really desperately to fit back in somehow. Rebecca loves other people so fiercely that she can’t ever detach herself from any of them, even in situations when she should, and her taking a constant interest in other people is completely incompatible with season 1 Greg’s inferiority complex and self-deprecation. (Also I’m definitely laughing at how I had Rebecca break off mid-monologue to question what the fuck her writer is even doing.)

There's a moment where Greg doesn't say anything, just continuing to stare at her like she's a complicated puzzle to solve. Rebecca forces herself to keep breathing, to keep calm despite the fluttering of her heart in her chest.

Then, just when she thinks she's about to pass out from anxiety, Greg says, "Neuralyzer."

Rebecca blinks. "What?"

He leans back a bit, just the hint of a smile on his face. "A neuralyzer. The Men In Black memory eraser. That's what it's called."

"Oh my god." She lets go of his wrists so she can swipe at his arm, which he skillfully dodges. "You are such a nerd."

"For knowing a fact about a classic film from our childhood? Please." She swings for him again, still annoyed, but this time he catches her hand, pulling her off-balance so she sways towards him. Then his other arm is around her waist, catching her, pulling her close. They fall into this kiss as naturally as breathing, his lips parting beneath hers as he begins to really smile now, and she finds herself smiling too, helpless.

This is way cuter and funnier than anything that actually made it into the chapter and I’M SAD ABOUT IT, STILL, TO THIS DAY.

When they break apart again, this time she's the one who doesn't want to move away. She tries to chase after him but he ducks his head, pressing a kiss to her jawline instead. "I want to believe you, Rebecca..." he breathes against her skin.

She must be broken, she thinks, because for some reason her body has decided that Greg's whispered admission of mistrust is what's gonna flip her switch from amorous to ravenous. Or maybe it's some weird time travel brain chemistry thing, because this is right about the time she would've been getting laid by the rando guacamole vegan. Whatever the reason, her eyes flutter closed and she tips her head back slightly, wordlessly encouraging him to keep kissing her; he takes the hint and continues, trailing down her neck to the hollow of her throat. "It's okay," she says, wrapping both arms around his neck so she can pull herself closer, pressing her body against his. "You don't have to yet. Just..."

Honestly I think at this point I STILL hadn’t decided if they were going to fuck at the end of this chapter, which is ABSURD. That indecision definitely contributed to the circling the drain feeling that this draft had. At least I got to mine out the “weird time travel brain chemistry” bit and double down with “the transitive property of getting fucked in another timeline” because I feel like I’d lived my whole life up to that point just to write that sentence.

She doesn't get to finish her sentence because he's moving her, pressing her down on the couch beneath him, sliding his hands up under her shirt. A quiet voice in Rebecca's brain points out that this is weird, going from her strange confessions directly into a hot and heavy makeout sesh, but the rest of her brain reminds her that at least this time she's hooking up with her actual date. Besides, her body is wholeheartedly consenting to this activity, and who is she to judge?

This inner monologue is still pretty funny, but this is the point where I stopped, stared at the draft, and muttered “what are you doing?” like Rebecca to the Hitler documentary. I had basically 1300 words that, while occasionally funny and insightful, barely propelled the narrative. I still fought for some of it for a while (similarly, I had a joke that I fought tooth and nail for in revisions for Nathaniel’s chapter), but in the end Greg’s chapter was better without all that weird random baggage.

#fanfic #deleted scene #all the solutions were trial and error #the moral of the story is #kill your darlings #but keep their corpses in cold storage #and wheel them out at any opportunity #and say look! look at my beautiful dead darlings!!#crazy ex girlfriend

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