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restlesswritingss · 3 years

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Professionalism

Miya Atsumu x reader, Mutual Pining and Fluff

Warnings: Sexual language and flirting.

Atsumu Miya was the bane of your existence. He had fixated on you and made it his mission to make your life a living hell. You were on the PR team for the Black Jackals and were in charge of their social media presentations. It was your dream job but Miya made it your worst nightmare. He was a PR disaster. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The idiot had no comprehension of the idea that not every thought that pops into his pea brain needs to be put out into the world. Even Sakusa Kiyoomi was good at hiding his general disdain for people for the sake of making his fans happy. Between Miya’s tweets and interviews, you had your hands full.

The worst part of being a salary employee was that you were never off the clock. Atsumu Miya took full advantage of this. Here he was calling you at 2:00 AM over his name trending on twitter for another thing he tweeted that he of course saw nothing wrong with.

“Miya, I have told you so many times that when you tweet shit out about your celebrity crushes, it’s going to gain traction. You are a public figure now. People are going to see and react to your posts especially if you mention another public figure,” you tried to keep the irritation out of your voice as much as you could.

Atsumu whined, he could hear the exhaustion in your voice and felt bad about calling you so late but he really needed your opinion.

“(Y/N)-chan, please tell me what to do everyone is photoshopping pictures of me with her now! Plus everyone is tagging her under all my photos now! Those thirst traps aren’t for her!”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation, regardless of how exhausted you were. Atsumu blushed at hearing your cute giggle but whined again that you weren’t taking this seriously.

“Miya this is honestly just how the internet works. It’s kind of funny. Honestly if you find her so hot that you’d tweet about her why are you so upset that people are trying to get her attention for you? Don’t you want the chance to date her?”

“No I don’t want to date her! Sure she’s hot but I wasn’t trying to get her attention! I was just talking out ma ass! Aren’t you supposed to be against me dating publicly anyway?”

You pinched your nose and sighed, “Miya you can date whoever you want. My job is just to help you maintain a positive social media presence. You should think more about how your tweets are going to be interpreted. Of course people are going to think you want to date this girl when you tweet about how hot she is. Why else do you publicly thirst over them?”

Atsumu nodded even though you couldn’t see it, relief warming him that you were not mad over this. He thought you’d have yelled at him for this and he didn’t want you to give him that disappointed look again. He hated when you were disappointed in him. Atsumu never cared about the public’s opinion of him but he did care about your opinion of him. He also never wanted to make your life harder. No matter how hard he tried, he always found himself doing something wrong.

In this moment, however, he cared more about making sure you knew that he wasn’t interested in this girl. He didn’t know why he was so worried at the thought of you thinking he wanted to be with this girl.

“I was thinking with my dick not my head ok? I just saw her in a movie and thought she was hot so I said that. I don’t have a crush on her or nothin’. I’m not looking for a relationship with her.”

“It’s ok, Atsumu. You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it but this is just your fans having fun so I say just let them. If this girl reaches out to you let me know and we can work from there ok? Remember, she might make any private conversations public so be careful.”

Atsumu smiled, “Oh so now I can’t talk to other girls unless you screen it first? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to keep me all to yourself (Y/n)-chan.”

“Maybe I am. Take care of yourself and goodnight Miya.”

“Good thing I’m all yours then. You do the same and goodnight to you too, (L/N).”

At that, you hung up and clutched your phone to your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heart. You rolled your eyes at his lame flirting and tried to ignore the flutter of your heart at it. He always did this and it always affected you. You tried to remind yourself he didn’t mean it and you were a professional. However, the blush of your cheeks and your roaming thoughts were anything but. As much as he made your life difficult, you couldn’t deny your attraction and crush on Atsumu. It shouldn’t have happened but here you were.

The next day at practice Atsumu was of course exhausted but he was also on a high from your words last night. You always kept it professional no matter how much he provoked you. So, you saying maybe you were just trying to keep him all to yourself made it impossible for Atsumu not to feel like the king of the world.

“What’s got you so chipper today Miya?” Meian pats his setter on the back and ruffles his hair.

“Is it that actress you tweeted about yesterday? Did she DM you? She’s super hot!” Bokuto inserted himself into the conversation, bouncing on his feet as he spoke.

Atsumu scoffed, “No, nothin’ to do with that chick. I spoke to our beloved PR manager, (Y/N) last night and I think she’s finally starting to fall for me boys.”

He puffed out his chest at his words. There was a collective groan from his team who had been put through listening to Miya’s failed courtship of you since you’d started. The boy had been smitten the minute he met your eyes for the first time as you’d introduced yourself to everyone on your first day. Your pretty eyes and shy smile had him wrapped around your finger and he never wanted to be free.

“Doesn’t she still despise you for the shit you pulled after our game versus the Alders promo?” Meian put a hand on his hip as he raised an eyebrow at Atsumu’s words.

Said man groaned at the bringing up of his harsh words against the opposing team’s setter, Tobio Kageyama. He’d gone too far and his trash talk had hit too personal so that it was past the point of cocky and fun. The media had a field day painting him as a total asshole who attacked his poor junior unprovoked. You had to do major damage control and he was still trying to make it up to you.

Although it had given him a chance to spend multiple late nights with pouring over things about himself that he could use to make his public image better. In the end, a PR stunt of him working at his brother’s restaurant had done the trick. People had eaten up the twin’s banter and Atsumu’s inability to comprehend basic instructions in a mundane job setting. It had all been your idea after hearing him speak so highly of his brother. You’d seen how much he loved his twin and knew he could bring out the best of Atsumu.

Atsumu rolled his eyes, “She’s forgiven me for that unfortunate mishap ok? And last night I called her about ma name trending for less than desirable reasons. And guess what boys? She finally flirted back with me.”

Bokuto perked up at that, he himself having a small crush on you as well, “Well what did she say?”

“She told me she wants to keep me all to herself.” Atsumu replied too quickly, obviously waiting for the chance to tell them your exact words.

Bokuto deflated a bit, “Oh well that’s good at least. Glad she’s finally taking your hints ‘Tsum-’Tsum!”

Atsumu smirked even wider than anyone thought was possible. Shugo rolled his eyes but let the boy live in his delusion. You were too professional in Shugo’s eyes to fall for his stupid flirtations. He thought you were a saint for how much you put up with between Atsumu, Sakusa, Bokuto, and Hinata. His teammates were easily provoked into shit talking and prone to putting their feet in their mouths. He had no idea how you were still here and still willing to help them through it all. You were the main reason the team was so well loved by fans.

Meian was also very aware of his young setter’s romantic feelings towards you. You seemed oblivious so he just hoped this didn’t end in heartbreak for anyone.

After practice finally ended, Atsumu had his text messages open with you as he debated what excuse he could use to talk to you. Just as he was contemplating asking you to lunch like a normal person, the heavens sent him the perfect reason in the form of a dm from the random acctress he’d tweeted about.

(A/N): Hey, a couple of little birdies told me you think I’m “hotter than balls” lol. :)

He internally groaned at her throwing his stupid words back at him. But he was quick to screenshot it and send it to you with an SOS.

You were quick to respond sending back a crying laughing emoji.

Atsumu: I’m in crisis and you’e laughing at me. :’(

Y/N: I’m sorry Miya but hotter than balls really? Is that your signature line to lure women in?

Atsumu: I don’t need a line to lure women in ok.

Y/N: Sure you don’t Miya. But you can say whatever you like to her, just remember what I said last night to keep in mind that she could be planning to post these DM’s so don’t say anything you wouldn’t want the world to read.

Atsumu: Idkkkk what to say. I don’t wanna blow her off but I also don’t want to talk to her. Please help me (Y/N), can we meet up at my brother’s restaurant to talk about it?

Y/N: *eyeroll emoji* Sure but you’re paying Miya.

Atsumu: I always pay on the first date ;)

Y/N: See ya in thirty.

Atsumu pumped his fist as he raced to go shower and head over. He didn’t really need to see you in person over a dumb DM but he just wanted to see you. Plus you hadn’t denied that it was date like you usually did. Was he finally actually getting through to you? You’d never rejected him, if you had he would’ve stopped, you just were oblivious to his actual feelings behind his silly flirtations.

Back in your apartment, you were freaking out trying to remind yourself that this was a business matter. You were not meeting Atsumu for pleasure. He didn’t actually think this was a first date, he just needed you to do your job.

Atsumu got to Onigiri Miya first and ordered both of your regular orders. He knew yours by heart from the other meetings you two had had here to discuss fixing his messes. This time felt different and he couldn’t put his finger on why.

“Meeting (Y/N)? What’da ya do this time ‘Tsumu?” Osamu raised a brow at him as he punched the order in, knowing it by heart as well.

Osamu really liked you and had even brought you your regular order to your office on multiple occasions. He appreciated how you helped his brother while also trying to include his restaurant in MSBY publicity frequently. He owed a lot of his success to you, and you weren’t even paid to help him. You just did it because you were kind. If Osamu wasn’t so aware of how hard his twin had already fallen for you, he would’ve asked you out himself and he held that over Atsumu’s head all the time to push him towards making a move.

“He tweeted with his dick rather than his head, his words not mine.” You came up behind Atsumu, catching Osamu’s question and answering with a giggle.

Both twins swooned at your giggle and smiled sweetly at you.

“How have ya been doll?” ‘Samu asked you as he rung ‘Tsumu up, who was glaring daggers at him for the pet name.

You blushed and ‘Tsumu wanted to reach across the counter and strangle his brother for flirting with his date, “I’m doing well, work is busy but fun. How are you?”

“I’m better now that you’re here. I’ll come stop by your table later to hear you dig into this knucklehead ok?” He leaned over the counter and winked at you.

You nodded and smiled sweetly at him. Atsumu panicked and grabbed your hand to pull you away in huff. He needed to get you away from his brother before you realized how much better he was.

You blushed even harder at the touch as he pulled you through the restaurant. Your hand intertwined your fingers with his before your brain gave it permission. He squeezed your hand so you sighed in relief that it didn’t make him uncomfortable. For Atsumu, he was so in his head about finding a table far from the cash register that he didn’t notice the gesture; it just felt like second nature to hold your hand.

When he finally got a good enough table, he let go of your hand to pull your chair out for you. You smiled at his politeness. He pushed you in and then sat across from you. You took his breath away and he felt like such a fool for how hard he’d already fallen for you. He knew it was inappropriate to pursue someone who basically works for him but he had no control over it. His heart was yours and there was no taking it back. Now there was just tiptoeing around the line of professionalism and trying to get you to actually fall for him as a person.

“Has she sent you any other messages?” You finally broke him from his thoughts.

“Uh, what? I mean, no. She hasn’t and I think I might just not respond. I really don’t care what she thinks of me.” He wanted to move on from this subject.

You nodded, thinking carefully, “Well if she says anything rude you can just be honest with your fans and her that you tweeted about her with no intention of her seeing it or reaching out. And, uh, you could say you aren’t looking for a relationship right now as a scapegoat. You know, if that’s true.”

You looked away and fiddled with your fingers to which Atsumu raised his eyebrows. What had gotten you nervous? He reached out and rubbed your arm instinctively to sooth you.

“Hey what’s got you so upset? Are you mad at me for this? I’ve really been trying to be on ma best behavior I promise I don’t wanna make yer life harder.” His accent was getting worse with his emotions coming out.

“I just don’t want to put words in your mouth and assume what you want to portray about your relationship status. I assume it’s still single but that could have changed. Is that why you’re so against her talking to you and people thinking you like her? Oh sorry, I shouldn’t ask about your personal life. It’s your business. It’s just my business what you want to show the public. Sorry.” You couldn’t shut up as much as you were screaming at your mouth to stop.

Atsumu blinked at your words vomit, confused by your apology and nervousness. Before he could respond, Osamu showed up with your food. He set them down with a sweet smile sent your way. You thanked him while Atsumu flipped him off. He walked away with a promise to come by again once it was slower. He sent Atsumu a look that told him that ‘Samu saw how weird you were acting and accusing him of causing it.

“Listen, (Y/N), I’m not upset at all about you caring about my personal life. I appreciate how much you care about me as a person rather than just a client. I consider you a friend rather than a colleague. Please don’t worry that you’re overstepping at all. Also, to answer your question I am single but I’m just not looking for a relationship except with someone specific.” Atsumu bit his lip, hoping you’d see the underlying meaning to his statement.

You swore you heard your heart crack at that. Atsumu liked someone. Your stupid and unprofessional crush had to stop. You couldn’t do your job with these feelings getting in the way. You felt tears prick your eyes but you forced them back because crying was so not appropriate.

“Oh well, I’m happy for you that you have someone you consider worthy of a romantic relationship. I’ll be here for you always. I also consider you more a friend than a colleague so I’m glad you feel the same. If you’ll excuse me I really think I should be going if that’s all.”

You got up quickly before Atsumu could process what you were doing. You left without your food or coat, desperate to get away before you were unable to hold back your true emotions.

Atsumu sat staring at where you had just been sitting trying to rack his brain for where he went wrong.

Osamu rushed over to his brother upon seeing you dash out of his restaurant, obvioulsy close to tears.

“What the hell did ya say to her? Ya made her cry for christ’s sake ‘Tsumu!” He smacked the back of his brother’s head.

That got the blonde’s attention as he whirled to look at his brother, his confused stupor broken, “What? She was crying? I swear I didn’t do anything ‘Samu! I just told her I was looking for a relationship with a specific person, obviously her, and then she just rushed off saying how she was happy for me and here for me if I need anything!”

Osamu rolled his eyes in understanding. Atsumu was known to be oblivious to other’s feelings but he was more aware of himself than people gave him credit for. As he said the situation out loud, it dawned on him that you thought he meant he liked someone else. He couldn’t help the lightening of his heart as he realized that your reaction had to mean you felt a similar way to him. He got up and grabbed your food and coat to rush after you, leaving his twin standing there smiling feeling like he was witnessing a romcom movie moment.

Thank god Atsumu was an athlete so he was able to catch you before you even reached the end of the block. He yelled after you.

“(Y/N)! Ya forgot ya coat and food! C’mon please don’t run away from me.”

You sighed and tried to wipe your tears as you faced Atsumu. His heart ached at the tear stains on your cheeks. He pulled you into his arms, unable to resist now that he had some confirmation that you liked him too. He’d wanted to hold you like this for so long. You melted into his touch.

“I’m sorry to be so unprofessional, I don’t want you to think I can’t do my job properly. I promise I won’t let my personal feelings for you get in the way. You’re a really great person, Miya, and I’ll make sure the public sees it always.” You said your rant into his shoulder as tears continued to flow.

Atsumu squeezed you tighter and lifted you slightly while still holding your food and coat in his hands. He let out a whoop and laughed, “I can’t believe ya just said that. You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed of you saying you have feelings for me.”

He pulled back to look at you with the most boyish grin covering his face. You couldn’t help but smile through your sadness and confusion at him.

“Wait what?”

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment you set your pretty eyes on me and told me you looked forward to working with me baby. You’re the person I am interested in being a relationship with. You always have been.”

You tilted your head, still not fully comprehending his words, “Wait you like me too? I never thought you would. I figured you just liked teasing me.”

He laughed and shook his head, “I do like teasing you but that’s because I have feelings for you too. I just didn’t want to overstep and make ya uncomfortable. But now I know that you feel the same way so can I please just kiss ya already?”

You nodded quickly but grabbed him by the collar to pull him in before he got the chance to lean in first. Your other hand went into his hair and he groaned at the relief his body felt to finally get to feel your lips like how he’d imagined so many times. He pulled you impossibly closer to him.

You pulled away and he cursed himself for not deepening the kiss before you did. He put his forehead on yours, relishing in the feel of you in his arms.

You smiled goofily at him, “Well then I guess I should start looking for a new job now that I have a conflict of interest.”

He laughed at that and mirrored your smile, “I could always transfer teams too. It’s not all on you.”

“You’d do that for me?” Happy tears were now forming in your eyes, touched at his sweetness.

“Course, I’d do anything for ya.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck to hide your blush from him. He squeezed you teasingly, silently glad that you couldn’t see the absolutely idiotic grin that he had. He felt so giddy. He had daydreamed about this for far too long to not savor this moment.

He pulled away though to hold out your coat for you since the wind was still blowing and as much as he willing to shelter you from it in his arms forever, he knew realistically you should just put your coat on. he also held out your onigiris, now wrapped in napkins. You smiled and took your coat as you grabbed his hand and pulled him back towards Onigiri Miya. You intertwined your fingers again but this time Atsumu blushed at the contact, all his attention on your hands. He rubbed your knuckle with his thumb, unknowingly sending goosebumps up your arm.

As soon as you two walked back through the door, Osamu deflated and groaned. He came up to give you a hug.

As he squeezed you he said, “I sadly see you two sorted things out. Welcome to the family gorgeous.”

He kissed your cheek as he pulled away and patted Atsumu on the shoulder.

Atsumu pulled you into his side and wrapped his arm around your waist, squeezing your hip. You blushed profusely at all the attention and turned your face to hide in Atsumu’s shoulder.

Atsumu stuck his tongue out at ‘Samu, “Quit teasing my girlfriend.”

He purposefully emphasized that you were his to rub his brother’s crush in his face. Osamu was slightly disappointed admittedly, but he was more so happy for the two of you.

You pulled away to give Atsumu a look with your eyebrow raised, “Hey you never asked me to be your girlfriend, Atsumu. You still gotta earn that dummy. You can start with this date though.”

There was a light tone in your voice that let Atsumu know you planned to say yes whenever he asked you, but you still wanted to be asked. Atsumu fake groaned but wrapped his arm over your shoulder to pull you towards him to kiss your forehead.

“Can’t I just tweet that you’re hotter than balls and have you come running to me?”

You laughed and slapped his shoulder but pulled him back towards your table. You waved goodbye to Osamu, asking him to keep his promise to come over later on. Atsumu felt himself falling too much too fast at your use of his first name and kindness towards his brother. He promised himself that he would never let you go.

#haikyuu!! x reader #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu imagine #hq!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! imagine #hq imagine #Atsumu x reader #atsumu imagine #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya imagine #I haven't edited this but will tomorrow so sorry

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rmnamjoons · 3 years

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Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat. You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

#ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #namjoon smut #bts smut #rm smut #kim namjoon #namjoon #my writing #namjoon fic #*

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dwaynepride · 3 years

Text

how was i to know?

summary: reader has a weird dream about gibbs.

have you ever done anything for the ‘ya know what kind of wood this is’ Gibbs dream that both Quinn and Palmer had?

words: 1700

warnings: slight nsfw

tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @kittenlittle24 @24601error-prisonernotfound @andreasworlsboring101 @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @pageofultron @stanathanxoox

a/n: it’s been a while since i’ve posted. this isn’t beta-read so ignore the typos. be free, my thots.

Your eyes just weren’t focusing anymore.

It’s been hours (don’t ask how many) since you’ve sat down at your desk to read over case files. The bane of a federal agent - chained to their desk and forced to go over every scrap of evidence and testimonies to find anything useful and it’s the burden placed squarely on your shoulders for today.

Usually, you have tricks to help when the words start blending together. Getting some coffee, going for a walk, visiting Abby because she’s the physical embodiment of caffeine and normally wakes you up.

But nothing helped. And the words kept swimming over the screen.

You’re not learning anything new from sitting here. But with the team hitting a roadblock in the case, what else is there to do?

Again, you start reading the paragraph that you’ve been trudging through for the past twenty minutes. But this time, as your focus wavers, it’s not because of the headache or the tension in your eyes. The sudden presence on your right is what stops your reading. It’s warm. All-encompassing. Brings over the soft smell of sawdust and aftershave and as soothing at the presence is, it’s a shock to you.

Because you could have sworn you were alone in the bullpen - staying behind while the others went off to find new leads.

Your eyes move off the computer screen, meaning to glance over to the presence. But you never see their face because they’re suddenly leaning in. Hovering over your shoulder, shrouding you from the harsh office lights, and you reckon if you take in a big enough breath, you’d be able to feel the warm presence pressing against your shoulder.

Their face was a mystery, and yet, you can feel a pair of eyes watching you - hard, steely, freezing you in your chair.

And without warning, a hand comes to rest on the surface of your desk, next to the keyboard. A worn, scarred hand that you recognize with a jolt. The named of its owner lies on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out - like a secret you’ve sworn to keep.

His fingers curl a bit, knocking lightly against the top of your desk. The sound could’ve easily been mistaken as the pounding of your heart, if one listened close enough.

“You know what kinda wood that is?”

The voice mumbled against your ear is low and deep. Sounding like a bass drum and its sound reverberates through your body and you’re pretty sure it’s the reason why your hands are suddenly a little shaky.

“W-wood?” You manage to echo back. A single word, hoping for clarification because your brain is moving at a snail’s pace. You’re simply too preoccupied on the warm, wet breathing that wafts over your neck.

His fingers start tapping against the desk in some unknown rhythm. And your eyes watch them move, entranced, and you keep telling yourself to look away and focus on something else but it’s much too easy to just keep staring. “Yeah. You outta know.” His voice is closer. More hushed. And that’s because his lips are right against the shell of your ear and his breath is blazing hot.

And through it all, you can catch the faint scent of bitter coffee and it only makes your skin tingle even more.

You suppress a shudder, if only to deny him the satisfaction of feeling it.

His presence somehow keeps growing larger - more encompassing, like a storm cloud rolling over the city. The words on the monitor; they don’t exist. There’s no more Naval Yard or team of federal agents or a whole case to solve.

It’s just you, him, and the hard, cold press of the wooden desk keeping you here.

Finally, you turn your head towards him. Words form on the edge of your tongue - stern words of annulment and to tell him you’re too busy for his games.

But then you meet his eyes. Head on - and they give you pause. Frozen in place, as if the icy blues really could chill you to the bone. So close, you could catch faint flecks of gray and gold floating around in the ocean of light blue and this time, it’s impossible to push down the shudder.

Now, his breath wafts over your lips slowly in his careful exhale, sounding almost disappointed and you’re shocked at how much that thought troubles you.

“Want to get a closer look?” He mumbles, eyes falling blatantly to your lips before coming back to meet your gaze.

A closer look? Damn him.

This must be some kind of sick game for him - to see how far he can push you before you bend to him. He knows the implications of his question. You’ll start imagining yourself bent over the desk, looking closely to study the wood and its rings and texture. Everything he wants you to look for. Your mind will wonder, and suddenly, the image of him fucking you, hard and purposeful, over the desk pops up and you’ll never be able to get it out of your head.

And it works like a god damn charm.

His head tilts to the side, eyes softening to look amused. Probably because he notices you’re panting lighting and can feel it against his lips. “I can show you, if you want,” he murmurs. Still acting innocent. Still keeping with this game.

You breathe in because your head starts getting dizzy from lack of oxygen, but that proves a fatal mistake.

Because the air itself smells like him - like coffee and smoke and old cologne and it goes straight between your thighs and you find yourself craving the feel of his scarred, worn-out hands on your skin. “Gibbs…”

His name comes out weak, like a shiver. And when he hums in response to it, you can nearly feel the vibration through the air and pulsing against your body. And slowly, carefully, his hand comes up to touch your shoulder. The first real, raw physical contact and you wait for it with baited breath. Suddenly craving it more than the air itself.

As it connects, you expect a soft sort of seering feel. Like a branding iron. Instead, it’s a hard and sudden shove that seems to rock the entire world.

It’s so hard, your eyes snap open instantly, sucking in a gasp of air like you’d just been held underwater. Those cold blue eyes that had so easily frozen you solid were gone, replaced with the familiar scene of the office doused in the light of a sunset.

The stifling presence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs was also gone - in a way, you were grateful for the freedom. It was much easier to breathe now, that’s for certain. But the second thing you notice upon sitting up in your chair isn’t as appreciated.

Your body is humming. Heart pounding a million miles a second. And your skin...it’s almost painfully sensitive. So much so, even your clothes rubbing against it is almost too much to bear. For a moment, you can still feel Gibbs and his warm breath and the remains of his touch.

But the worst realization is the deep throb between your legs. Aching and pulsing for something - or someone - that will never come. Your thighs shift together, hoping to ease the feel but the friction only seems to make it worse.

“You fell asleep.”

That’s his voice.

Your head whips up to find Gibbs standing by your desk - watching you, his eyebrows pinched together and standing in nearly the same exact spot as in your dream and it’s a shock that you even realize that.

Immediately, you let your gaze fall - everything is throbbing just a little too much to meet his eyes. “And you were making some noises,” he continues. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately. Too quick, you realize. Gibbs may not believe the dream was simply nothing, and it’s proven when he takes a small step closer to you. His shoes nearly nudge against yours, and you can’t stop yourself from tucking your feet under the chair away from him.

His eyes are still on you. It takes an enormous amount of effort to keep your breathing steady and to stop the light shake of your hands to even pretend everything was normal. “You sure?” He asks. And this time, his tone is different. Just slightly - it wouldn’t even had been noticeable if dream-Gibbs hadn’t spoken so softly right in your fucking ear.

You need to get a fucking grip.

It was just a dream. A vivid, extremely hot dream. But a dream nonetheless. Not real.

“Very sure,” you reply, forcing your tone to sound more confident that you feel. It’s still impossible to meet his eyes - you know they’d be every bit as frosty blue and cool as in your dream, so you just spin your chair to face the desk. “You just woke me up from an intense dream.”

Gibbs hums a bit at the explanation. “Gonna tell me about it?”

“Definitely not.”

Out the corner of your eye, Gibbs just shrugs before turning back to his own desk and sitting down. Now that his whole focus isn’t on you, the rest of the world start to filter back in. The golden light of a setting sun coming in through the windows. The ambience of the office, winding down from a long day. Gibbs sipping his coffee.

It gets easier to slow your beating heart. To ignore the slow, steady throb between your thighs.

And carefully, you glance up across the bullpen to Gibbs. His eyes are on the monitor, paying you no attention.

“Gibbs.” That is, until you say his name carefully. Like an experiment.

And when the shock of his eyes hits you once again, it’s nearly as powerful and earth-shaking as it was in the dream. But this time, you hold his gaze. Because there’s something you need to know before you can put this dream behind you and get back to work.

Your hand comes up, knuckles rapping lightly against the wooden surface of the desk. It sounds louder than it should.

“Do you know what kind of wood this is?”

#ncis imagine #ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine

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anjalis-ennui · 3 years

Text

emeralds and steel. (pt. 1)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: hi! this is my bucky barnes x reader series! reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns in this! she is also born indian as i myself am indian and i don’t see enough indian representation, especially in fics. however, she knows many languages, so feel free to interpret her ethnicity as you see fit. i’m sorry for not posting anything over the past couple of days, as i was working on this! i hope you enjoy!

warnings: canon-typical violence, sexism, racism, implied racial slurs

tags: none so far, but if you would like to join the taglist, please fill out the taglist form!

summary: reader is a sorceress who was prophesized to be the host of the time stone. she has been alive since ancient greece and has been wandering the earth since. she cannot age nor die since she is now the body of an infinity stone. she was in the british royal military during the second world war, but didn’t see her strengths used well, so she signs up for the ssr: being shipped out to project rebirth with peggy carter.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Rejected.”

“With all due respect, sir, I have been part of the British Royal Military far longer than you have had a job. I wish to join the Strategic Scientific Reserve, for which my resume is--to be honest--overqualified.”

“What would an Indian woman have to do with the British Royal Military? I find your story ineffably false.” The snooty man pushed his glasses up his nose and narrowed his eyes at her. Her tie was askew, her hair was all over the place, and her papers were in a bunch: only held together by her hands.

Just then, another woman walked by the desk, raising her eyebrows at the pair. “Don’t tell me you don’t recognize Lieutenant (l/n), Mr. Lowe. She’s got not one, but two doctorates in the sciences. I’d think she’s rather qualified for the SSR, regardless of her gender or race.” The man huffed and got up, storming off to who knows where. The woman smiled and held her hand out. “Agent Peggy Carter from the SSR. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lieutenant.”

(Y/n) smiled, furrowing her brows, and shook Peggy’s hand. “I’m surprised you know who I am.”

“Nonsense, I’ve followed your career since I joined the military. You’re somewhat of a legend around these parts. Now, the head of the SSR heard of your application and is assigning you to Project Rebirth as a supervisor alongside myself. Your doctorates in chemistry and neuroscience will help us quite a lot.” She started walking towards a side door, motioning for (y/n) to follow. “There’s a plane waiting to take us to Camp Lehigh. Do you have luggage with you?”

She shook her head as she followed the woman. “I’m a light traveler. When you’re a lieutenant with no family you tend to have no roots in society.” (Y/n) gave Peggy a half-smile, waving away her concerned look. “I’m fine, Agent Carter. I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?”

“Indeed you have,” she said pensively. How could someone so strong have no one to rely on? The lieutenant was the first woman to hold such a high rank in the military and have so many degrees for her age. She was young, beautiful, and smart: everything a man could want. She would be expected to have a husband and kids, and yet she had no family. The woman had seemed to hold a sense of sadness as she said this, but she seemed empathetic and lively. Peggy intended to be her friend, whether (y/n) wanted her to or not. Maybe then she could find out what made her tick...

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

(Y/n) stepped into place beside Peggy as they observed the candidates. The men looked buff and ready to charge into battle, that is, all but one. The scrawny man, sorry, boy that trailed after the others seemed like he belonged in a toy wagon playing with the other children rather than Camp Lehigh. “Ready to scare them, Agent Carter?”

“Always, Lieutenant.” Peggy walked forward, revealing herself to the men. “Recruits, attention! Gentlemen, I’m Agent Carter. I supervise all operations for this division.” (Y/n) smiled serenely at them as she walked forward and stood next to the agent. “For those of you who may not know me, I am Lieutenant (l/n), the assistant supervisor for this division.”

“What’s with the accent, Queen Victoria? Thought I was signing up for the U.S. Army.” The soldier internally rolled her eyes at the remark. Men, the bane of her existence. “And what’s with this...lieutenant? Didn’t know we were letting ni-”

(Y/n) shot forward and put him into a chokehold. “I dare you to finish that sentence, soldier. I am not to be discriminated against just because my skin is darker than yours, and if such foul words are going to come from your mouth, I daresay that we should wash it out and string it up on a clothesline.” She let him go and turned to Peggy, giving her a closed-eyed smile. “Would you like to do the honors, Agent Carter?”

“Certainly, though I think you’ve scared him enough.” The agent punched him, sending him straight to the ground. “That’ll teach you to respect women and especially women of color.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Faster, ladies! Come on. My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!”

“You’re not really thinking about picking Rogers, are you?” Colonel Phillips walked beside Dr. Erskine and the lieutenant, frowning at them. They couldn’t possibly be thinking of picking the runt of the group for the experiment of the decade, could they?

“I am more than just thinking about it. He is the clear choice.”

“When you brought a ninety-pound asthmatic onto my army base, I let it slide. I thought, what the hell? Maybe he’ll be useful to you, like a gerbil. I never thought you’d pick him.”

“Steven has character, Colonel, something that most of our recruits don’t,” (Y/n) cut in. “Dr. Erskine is right. He is the clear choice.”

The colonel sighed as he watched Steve fail to catch up with the rest. “Look at that. He’s making me cry.”

Erskine’s thick German accent was tinged with fatigue, as if he had run a marathon. “We are looking for qualities beyond the physical.”

“Do you know how long it took to set up this project?”

“Yes, we know, Colonel--”

“All the groveling I had to do in front of Senator What’s-His-Name’s committees?”

“Brandt. And yes, we know.”

“Then throw me a bone. Hodge passed every test we gave him. He’s big, he’s fast, he obeys orders. He’s a soldier.”

“Let me stop you there,” the lieutenant held out a hand, effectively stopping him in his tracks. “Not only is Hodge racist and sexist, he is also arrogant and rude. He is a bully.”

“You don’t win wars with niceness.” He fished a grenade out of a box, holding it out so they could see. “You win them with guts.” Phillips threw the grenade at the recruits, yelling, “Grenade!” and standing by to watch.

To the trio’s amazement, Steve jumped onto the grenade, willing to sacrifice himself to save others. The two doctors looked at the colonel, each hiding a smile. “It was a dummy grenade,” he informed. “All clear. Back in formation.”

“Is this a test?”

Colonel Phillips ignored the soldier, and grumbled, “He’s still skinny.” To his chagrin, the two doctors were proven right. Steve would become the new super soldier, even though he was far too weak.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: this was a lot of fun to write! expect a part 2 come up in a couple days to a week! oh, and if you’d like me to create a playlist for this series, i’d love to! in the meantime, i have another special surprise~

#jade's ice cream #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #female reader #blossom diaries #🌸 — blossom #🌷 — sfw

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rhaized · 3 years

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Ao3 Writing Tag

Tagging myself from @thelonecritic 's post! I just love writing fanfic and talking about it.

Name(s): Rhaized

Fandom(s): almost exclusively HDM for like 8 years 😅 but I've also written for The 100, Luther (because Ruth obz) & Fire Emblem: Three Houses.

Where you post: mostly ao3 these days

Most popular oneshot (by kudos): Resolve Yourself, although I think my Mary/Marisa oneshots are catching up despite being written only a couple weeks ago 😅

Most popular multi-chapter (by kudos): Golden Auroras, which I started because I couldn't bear waiting a whole year before S2 and which I guess I'm gonna anxiously return to as we wait for S3!

Favorite story you've written so far: The Duty of the Old, another multi-chap fic featuring Lyra & Mrs. C. I just love the idea of Lyra and Mrs. C having a longer and more sustained relationship, even if it still is fraught with the complications that will inevitably arise between them. I also have worked really hard to write longer and more eventful chapters for this fic, whereas my tendency for multi-chaps is to write shorter scenes. So I think it's my favorite because I've put so much of my heart and effort into it.

Fic you were nervous to post: Believe it or not, Temptress, which accidentally predicted the Mary/Marisa meeting in ep 5! This ship was basically non-existent as far as I could tell, and I thought oh gosh what am I doing here. But I went with it, and after seeing their scene and just more of Simone Kirby's adaption of Mary, I am so interested in it. Writing Mary/Marisa is so fun because they're so different but also there's just something about them together that is so intriguing. I also recognize this ship isn't for everyone, so much respect. We are all so valid.

How do you choose your titles?: Not very well! Usually from a quote from the books or show, although sometimes just descriptive words. Titles are the bane of my existence.

Do you outline?: Always! I write a lot academically for my studies and the process is kind of the same where I jot out the major points/main plot events I want to happen and then I sort of fill it in. This happens over a few days for oneshots; for multi chaps, I will map out and mark up ideas/scenes for weeks as I go. I move things around a lot, too. I know multi chaps are more difficult for this reason, but somehow I can't stop writing them because I love the space they provide to really explore an idea in depth.

Complete: Oh dear 😅 my oneshots, but as of right now I'm literally still writing every single one of my multi chaps! I don't abandon them. I just take my sweet time.

In progress: Temptress, The Duty of the Old, and Golden Auroras (yes, I juggle a lot at once; yes I do the same with my academic projects and everyone thinks I'm out of my mind 😅 I just love being busy)

Coming soon/not yet started: more Mary/Marisa oneshots and Marisa & Lyra oneshots, and I'm sure I've got another multi chap in me somewhere... But I need to get a handle on these existing ones first, since I love them and they deserve my attention.

Prompts?: I've never done them before because of my already chaotic writing process, but if I see one I like/that inspires me who knows!

Upcoming work you're most excited about: Temptress updates. I actually envisioned the ending recently, and while I think we're not quite there yet, I just can't WAIT for it.

Tagging: gosh, please tag yourself and share if you'd like! I never want to pressure anyone into doing these if they don't want to :) but this was fun. I think it's neat to learn more about other fan writers and to also reflect on your own writing/process.

#ao3 #ao3writing #fanfic #his dark materials #marisa coulter #mrs coulter #mary malone #lyra belacqua #lyra silvertongue #marysa #maryisa #hdm spoilers

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pawprinterfanfic · 3 years

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fic writer asks

Tagged by the lovely @burninghoneyatdusk ! This was so much fun, thanks for the tag!

Name(s)?

Pawprinter (AO3) pawprinterfanfic (Tumblr)

Fandom(s)?

SO MANY

I’m currently having the best time in the Julie and the Phantoms fandom, especially with Willex, Juke, and found family fics.

I’ll always have a home with the 100 and Bellarke though, and I’m excited to continue to write more for this fandom!

Where you post?

AO3

Most popular multi-chapter (by kudos)?

Title: Paint me in Trust

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Clarke is on the run. It's 1997 in Britain, during the height of the Second Wizarding War. Voldemort is wreaking havoc in the Wizarding World, fear is weighing heavily on everyone, and anyone who doesn’t side with the Dark Lord is in danger.

Clarke was expected to side with him. She’s from a pureblood family that has decades tangled with the Dark Arts, after all. But, she didn’t.

So, she ran.

Somehow, she finds her way to a safe house where she meets with other wizards and witches on the run.

All Bellamy wanted to do was keep his sister safe. Instead of saving her, he’s stuck in a safe house with her. She’s a Slytherin and the daughter of a Death Eater. He doesn’t trust Clarke; why should he?

Now, he’s stuck with her as they roam around the country, looking for places to stay safe and stay hidden. He quickly realizes that things could be worse. And… maybe Clarke isn’t as bad as he thought

Words: 326k

Kudos: 2248

I could talk about this fic forever because it’s the fic I’m most proud of. I worked so hard to write pmit and the response on it has been amazing. I don’t think anyone has ever been so supportive and excited about anything I’ve written before, so that was so, so cool.

Favourite story you’ve written so far?

Title: Paint me in Trust

Fic you were nervous to post?

Title: Simple Pleasures

Rated: Mature

Summary: Clarke is a medic from District 6. More importantly, she’s a dangerous criminal in the eyes of the Capitol. It isn’t a surprise when she is reaped for the 45th Hunger Games; it’s the only way for the Capitol to silence her.

Bellamy spent his life protecting his younger sister. When Octavia volunteers for the Games to honour their district, he knows it’s his responsibility to follow her into the arena. He would give anything for her to become the Victor, even his safety.

When they meet in the Capitol, Clarke can’t deny the connection she feels to him. He makes her feel more than a sacrifice. He makes her feel hope. She knows it’s dangerous to trust others, especially when in the arena, but why deny herself some final few simple pleasures?

Words: 367k

Kudos: 1250

I was so nervous to post this one because it was my first long multi-chapter fic I had planned! I used to write multi-chapter fics a long time ago for other fandoms and always struggled to finish, so I was really worried about that. AND I had just come off a several year long hiatus, and this was the biggest project I decided to tackle in a long time. AND I was super new to the Bellarke fandom when I started writing (I watched the show in May 2017-ish and I started writing this in July 2017), so I didn’t know what to expect. I had such a good time though and I am still super proud of this fic.

How do you choose your titles?

A lot of my titles are song lyrics or quotes. This and writing summaries are the BANE of my existence. @thesunwillshineclearer can vouch for this. I’ve cried to her for several nights this week about choosing titles and writing summaries because I suck at it.

Do you outline?

YES! I wouldn’t be able to write without it. Someone actually asked me about my outlining process recently, so I’ll go more in depth when I answer that ask (I’m still trying to figure out how to word it all). Basically, I outline every event by chapter, I include certain quotes that come to mind, I make notes about character arcs and emotions, etc. My outline for All That Remains is 13k words... just to give you a snapshot of how detailed I go.

Complete works?

96 on AO3

In-progress works?

2 multi-chapter fics that I’ve already begun to post. I have many other one-shots partially written in my drafts.

Coming soon/not yet started?

Here are some quick snapshots on one-shot ideas I’ve been working on:

Willex and dogs

Paint me in Trust fluff

Bellarke in the Star Wars universe

JATP soulmate AU

Willex exes

Prompts?

Not right now! I recently had them open to celebrate 1.5k followers on Tumblr, so now I’m working through those prompts!

Tagging: @eyessharpweaponshot @carrieeve @probably-voldemort @thelittlefanpire @sparklyfairymira @stealing-jasons-job @reggiesjams @mobi-on-a-mission @queen-of-the-wallflowers15 @queenemori @icantloseyou-too @animmortalist & anyone else who would like to participate (feel free to say I tagged you!)

#tag game #about me #essie rambles #THANK YOU FOR THE TAG #this was so much fun

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im-a-lonelyheart · 4 years

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Fitzsimmons Family Headcanons in case canon fails me

And before they destroy them. Buckle up.

(I wrote this in less than an hour and english is not my first language, sooo sorry for any mistakes)

Edit: I re-posted it because it wasn’t showing up in the tags. sorry.

Enjoy! (Gift credit: X)

They finally decide to retire to their cottage.

Daisy and May lived with them for a while but at different times. Daisy around the time their first kid was born and May when the youngest was a kid already.

May and Daisy totally live together in the USA.

Fitzsimmons started a biomedical company, they make prostetics and medical supplies. They fund small researchers and become relatively known in the medical field (under aliases of course). They run their company from their home as much as they can.

Deke got bored of his company, so he eventually fused it with FS’s, he has enough money to travel around the world and be whatever he wants. Once was a TV chef, and he got bored and became a travel blogger, then launched a clothing line so it goes…

Tried to convince the team to turn their story into a broadway musical. They all said no. He brings it up everytime they are all together (you never know)

Fitzsimmons have three kids, they were all planned ;) of course

Daisy teases Fitz about how the three of them look like Jemma. “You are adopted”. the son is the only one who kinda looks like him. Fitz doesn’ t mind.

After the kids go their own ways they leave together again.

Have their own quinjet in case of emergencies, they say. Let’s be honest after years of flying with SHIELD, commercial flights lost their charm.

Look retired Fitzsimmons would be that kind of couple who travels the world together (properly this time), they say the quinjet is to visit their friends and Family around the world but would randomly send pictures of them in front of a famous landmark.

Mackenzie Skye Fitzsimmons (Daisy calls her Kye) (Born around 2021) (Quarantine baby) or (Timetravel baby)

They never asked Deke about their daughter’s name in the original timeline, but once they told him, judging by his reaction they knew it was this. (but in the lighthouse timeline her nickname was Kenzie)

Fitz was really adamant on this name, Jemma thought it was cute and a great way to honor their best friends, but years later he told the kid:

“you were named after two of the bravest persons I’ve ever met”.

Jemma just stared into the space as it dawned on her that her husband was really an idiot.

He winked at her and she forgave him. Eventually.

When she was a toddler Fitzsimmons moved back to the city and left their cottage, they wanted their daughter to have the best education and also didn’t want to wake her up early because the closest school was still an hour away.

Around that time Daisy found Bobbi, they met up, and Bobbi introduced her to her baby son Owen.

“oh my god. I need to call Fitzsimmons”

“what”

“shhhh. wait, it’s connecting... Hey guys! Look who is here! Bobbi and her baby Owen Shaw”

Fitz spits his tea all over his phone. Bobbi doesn’t know what’s going on, and they eventually explain it to her, well, after Daisy stops laughing and Fitz stops coughing.

Bobbi and Hunter had changed names and moved to England. After learning that Fitzsimmons live nearby, they make plans to see each other as much as they can. Look this is my headcanon AU so Fitzsimmons offer them positions in their company, Bobbi in the lab and Hunter in a made up security position that doesn’t fit his nametag.

Some weekends Fitz and Hunter take the babies to the park together, while Jemma and Bobbi work or hang out together. One day kye and Owen were playing and Owen proudly declared he was going to be an astronaut. Fitz was like “you and your son are the bane of my existence”.

The kids become best friends. Duh

BUT this is Bobbi and Hunter we are talking about, they’re nomads so they eventually move out around Europe and America, when the kid started high school they agreed to stay in one place.

Anyways,

Amazing kid, took a while for her parents to figure out the whole parenting thing but she was so great, as long as things went her way.

Fitz can’t say no to her. A dog? We’ll manage. Ice cream for breakfast? c’mon you know how convincing she can be.

She is a really calm kid, well behaved. Responsible older sister, mom friend, but messy af. “look mom, I have a system and I know where everything is”.

Nicest kid you’ll ever meet, but if you mess with her siblings be careful, you never know if you will find trash in your backpack.

She is an MD. Eventually, her parents moved back to the countryside but she stayed in the city with her sister to finish her education.

Makes friends everywhere she goes.

She and Owen started dating in their teens but were on and off several times, they even briefly dated other people because one of them would get scared of things becoming too serious (even more when they learned that Uncle Deke was genetically their son).

In their late twenties they decided to get married as a compromise to stay together and work things out, after all, some things are inevitable.

They had two kids: Daniel Shaw (Deke, but They wanted him to be his own person so they changed the name), Gabrielle Shaw (Born as Oliver Shaw)

Owen worked for a while for SWORD. Eventually decide to move to Germany to work as researchers.

Margaret Abigail Fitzsimmons (Maggie) (Born 2025)

The odd one. Grew up to be a successful artist. Really independent as a child, could play hours by herself or caually chill around her parents or her brother’s crib.

Despite being the only one in her family who isn’t into science, she loves doing experiments all the time, in the name of aesthetic. One time turned the dog blue. There’s a fire extinguisher in the living room just because of her. Banned from her parents’ lab “Pretty colors can go boom”. Aparently.

After being constantly told she is diferent from the rest of her family, she feels happy when someone tells her she looks like her mom. She scoffs but she doesn’t really mind.

Acts though but is a softie, vegan, activist, animal lover. Loves to tease everyone, prankster, makes fun of her mom but it’s the first person she thinks of when something troubles her. Late night calls are not unheard of.

Can’t commit to a single hobby. Photography, cooking, volunteer work... name something, and she has probably already tried it.

Really close to Deke, sometimes travels with him. They are kindred spirits. Feel like only them understand the need to explore and try new things.

She grew up to resent shield. Look she loves what her parents and their friends did, but hates how it affected them. Forgive and forget? in this economy??

Lives in Paris by herself but somehow always manages to get everyone to come to her art exhibits. You won’t be able to stop her once she sets her mind to something. Stubborn as her dad.

Doesn’t want kids, maybe one day if she feels ready she will adopt but she is happy as an aunt.

Matthew Phillip Fitzsimmons (Matthew) (Born 2030)

Ray of sunshine, Momma’s boy. He loves it when his parents take him to their lab. Ever since he could walk he is always following his sisters around, if they are up to something he is the first one to know. They love to tease him, but he has enough blackmail material to get them to shut up. He would never use it tho.

Computer genius. He has his own video game company. Launched his first video game at 16. Fitz is mildly offended he sees the Framework code as “old stuff”.

He is a sweetheart, adores his parents and calls them every single day. He met his wife in college and has been happy ever since. It was fast and passionate, they got married within a year and a few years later they had a baby.

Truly an example of living fast.

Melissa Fitzsimmons (his daughter) a sweetheart, may is her godmother. (The babies’ baby’s baby, i cry). The cousins are thick as thieves.

May loves the kid, “age is making you softer”, Daisy tells her and laughs, May’s glare while holding a baby is too much for her.

Emma Johnson (born 2029) (the honorary fourth kid)

Daisy’s daughter. Jemma cried when she told her the baby’s name. She wanted May and Jemma in the delivering room with her.

I can see Daisy being a badass single mother but I also see her finding love, I haven’t made up my mind but I think she will be loved either way.

Only child, so loves to hang out with the FS kids.

She and Matthew are best friends since they were little, even having video calls when they couldn’t see each other in person.

Fitz and Daisy had a bet on whether they would get together, but it was called off when it became apparent Emma wasn’t interested in men altogether. She was the first woman in his wedding.

The “Quake” legacy was too much for her so she decided to focus in something different. Currently works as an architect and on her spare time works as a freelance illustrator.

All I can imagine is a scene where the are all together in a field (probably the same one where they buried Coulson and Loop!Fitz) May, Fitzsimmons and Daisy. They try to meet up there at least once a year to chat and reminisce about old times, sometimes with Deke, Mack and Elena (and their twin boys) or just them.

Their kids are playing while their parents watch, but May’s watching them, with their backs to her they almost look like the kids she met in the bus all those years ago. Coulson would’ve been so proud, this is the future we were fighting for all along, she thinks.

“You did good”.

Daisy turns around with a soft smile on her face and says “yes, we did.”

The end

#Fitzsimmons #fstag #fsfic #agents of shield #agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#Jemma simmons #Leo fitz #Daisy Johnson #Melinda May #SHIELD headcanons #I have hope that i will like their ending #this is how i see them right now #I will probably adapt them to fit whatever happens in the finale

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stevethehairington · 3 years

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Tagged by: the lovely @scimitar-and-longsword 💕💕

Name(s): my name is Mack, and if this also includes like usernames too then my ao3 is macksdramaticshenanigans and obviously yall can see my tumblr url lol. i have a fandom twitter but i hate twitter so i barely go on it lmao.

Fandom(s): oh boy haha this is a loooong list. as of right now, the main fandoms i’m involved in are The Old Guard and Trust FX, but in the past i’ve written for Skam, Marvel, Good Omens, Love Simon/Simon vs., Shameless, and IT. and ofc there are some fandoms i have not written for that i casually enjoy as well.

Where you post: all my fics are posted on ao3! or are sitting in my wips folder lol. i’ve ocsasionally posted some snippets of writing here to tumblr, but none of those are like full on, proper fics, mostly just me rambling off some thoughts i had about whatever characters in whatever scenarios

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos): Imagine Being Loved By Me (918 kudos) ((so close to 1k holy shit!!!! if it got to 1k i think i’d actually die of happiness omg)) this is my Good Omens smut fic lmfao, crowley is fantasizing and aziraphale makes it a reality skgjsd. i’m actually pretty damn pleased with how this one turned out, and i never expected it to get that many kudos so that makes me ridiculously happy sfjgfg. (and also podfixx made a podfic of this fic which made me INSANELY happy like that is the coolest thing ever)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos): I Have Hella Feelings For You (697 kudos) ahhh this one!! this one is actually my very first ever chaptered fic!! it’s a skam fic, and i have the most distinctive memory of me sititng in my dorm bed freshman year of college, furiously typing away at my laptop everyday for a week because i somehow managed to post a chapter every day until it was finished, which meant i was writing a new chapter everyday. like damn, i really peaked with that huh? lmao

Favorite story you’ve written so far: ahh okay not to like. toot my own horn kgfldg but this question is HARD bc i have a lot of favorites. i’m going to pick a favorite from each of my main fandoms i’ve written for because i’m an Indecisive Hoe okay fdjdf.

- From Marvel: Just Called To Say I Love You this one is my wrong number stucky fic and i actually adore this one so much, and also it actually ended up being WAY more popular than i expected it to? like i was lowkey shook by how many people liked it

- From Skam: If You Love Me, If You Hate Me so. about this one. it’s probably my favorite skam fic that i’ve written. but. it also is the utter bane of my existence bc this is the one and only fic i have ever written and posted that i haven’t fnished gskgjfdlfs. it’s going on soon to be a little over 2 years of sitting on my account as an unfinished wip, but i REFUSE to mark it as abandoned bc i really genuienly DO want to finish it, i just havent written for this fandom in a while and inspiration/motivation is tricky yknow? but anyways. this fic is my soccer au!! it was a gift for a secret santa exchange i believe to a dear friend of mine and i still feel awful that i never finished it but. one day!!

- From Love Simon/Simon vs.: Where I Like You Best i am actually obsessed with this one. is that weird to say about your own fic? i enjoy reading a good soulmate au, but writing them has always been SO daunting to me bc i never feel like my ideas are original enough or like things that havent been done a lot for that trope. but for this one!!! omg i found the BEST prompt for it and it fit these characters SO well and i wrote it and i ended up absolutely loving how it turned out, and i was so proud of myself for writing a pretty successful soulmate au.

- From Shameless: Wooden Floors, Walls, and Window Sills so this one was my second ever gallavich fic, and it’s probably my favorite because i think it’s the best characterization i got of them in all of my fics, and good characterization is one of the most important things to me when i write fic.

- From IT: To What We Might Do is my favorite reddie fic i’ve written! i definitely projected onto richie a teeny tiny bit in it for some parts lmfao, but yeah idk i just love how this one turned out a whole lot, and i enjoyed how i ended it too (esp since endings can be very difficult for me lol). ((BUT also a special shoutout to my fic Imagine Me and You, I Do bc that one is just pure fluff and i adore the concept of someone being just so absolutely in love with someone doing something so incredibly simple and it just rocks their world)

- From Good Omens: I Want To Know What Love Is (did i use the most cheesy title ever? absolutely. do i love it? absolutely.) anyways this fic is one where crowley the demon experiences love and promptly thinks he’s dying.

Fic you were nervous to post: ooh, i mean i’m always pretty anxious about any fic i post because i never know if it’s going to be recepted well or if people are going to like it or hate it or if anyone is even going to read it or repsond to it. especially if the fic is a gift for someone, because i just really want that person to like it yknow? but yeah idk if theres one in particular i was more nervous to post than any others... i guess maybe any smut fic? just bc i never know if the smut is even any good lol

How do you choose your titles?: eaaaaasy, i usually pick song lyrics lol, ocassionally i’ve used lines from a poem, and a few times i’ve gone with a pun, but mostly it’s song lyrics. i usually find a song with lyrics that i think will fit, or if there’s a particular song that vibes well with the fic or that i listened to repeatedly while writing the fic i’ll try to pick the best lyric from that one.

Do you outline?: yes and no lol. it honestly depends. sometimes i outline extensively, but other times i just sit in front of a doc and let whatever happens happen.

Complete: on my ao3 account i have 80 works completed (will be 81 once i finally finish that one single unfinished wip i have posted gahhh). but i know in my wips folder i have a at least one finished fic that i have not and probably will not post. there are also some other things in my wips folder that like technically could be conisdered finished too, but it’s not up to my posting standards so until i fix it so it is it’ll just sit there lol.

In-Progress: honestly there are too many to count lol. i have a shiiiiiit ton of wips (as yall will know if you saw that one ‘tell us about ALL your wips’ tag game post that was going around that i did lol).

Coming soon/not yet started: tbh see above answer bc it’s pretty much the same lol.

Prompts?: so the thing about prompts is that i would LOVE to take them, but it’s very very tricky bc i’m a super specific kind of gal and if i don’t vibe with the prompt it’s very difficult for me to write anything for it. but then there’s also the fact that inspiration/motivation are fickle bitches and they come and go as they please and so taking prompts is hard bc i never know if the stars will align and all that jazz for me to be in the ~ right mood ~ to work on a prompt. this is the exact reason why i have SO MANY sitting in my inbox right now, and i feel so bad for just letting them sit there but ughhh brain function?? how?? lol

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: sooooo i don’t necessarily have any specific works in progress right now (i’ve been so busy lately that writing has been the last thing on my mind and so i haven’t touched anything in weeks) but. i guess if i can ever get my shit together and finish the primo fic i’m close to finishing i’m pretty excited to post that! or honestly if i can actually get myself to finish any of the tog wips i have i’d be suuuper excited to post any of those bc i have not yet posted any tog fics!!

anways!! if you made it to this point thanks for sticking w me and reading through my long winded rambly answers lmao

Tagging: @peachykoya @wandering-scholar-lad @raynertodd @cluelessheroes @pinesboi @thewolvesrunwild @1derspark

#tag game #my wips #mack writes

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asphalt-cocktail · 4 years

Text

Sour- Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You’re a Right Bitch

Summary: Signing onto EMI records in the mid 80′s should have been a dream come true for Reader and her punk band, but she finds herself bubbling over with rage every time she interacts with the drummer from the successful rock band that records down the hall.

A/N: Hey lil cuties, I hope you enjoyed the teaser, it got a lot of good recognition which I’m happy about. Maybe i’ll actually do a tag list if anyone is interested (P.S. send ask if you are) and depending on how many people ask I’ll make but ONLY for this fic. If any of you have ideas for a name for reader’s band let me know because I’m writing the next chapter right now and I can’t think of what to call it, I was thinking maybe Sex Kitten, but let me know you’re opinion is always appreciated! This can be read as Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor and your feedback, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

Pairing: 80s!Roger Taylor x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, hate fucking, degrading, alcohol, cigarettes, dom!Roger, swearing, fighting, unprotected sex, no foreplay, throwing up (from intoxication), age difference(maybe like 10 years, reader is probably mid- late 20s and Roger is close to 40), rog being kind of a c*nt, but reader also is, not proof read, grammar.

Word Count: 5.8k whoops

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Asks

18+ if you are a minor do NOT interact with this post. This is fictitious content and I own nothing.

<<<< Teaser

Signing onto EMI should have seemed like a dream come true, but it wasn’t. Not because you and your band had issues with the contract or the long hours spent in the recording studio, no, it was because of a certain drummer of a certain internationally known rock band that had been the absolute bane of your existence. You honestly had no idea how the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe it was how loud your hot-headed drummer, Benny got when he was pissed off, or how Haz liked to play his guitar outside of the sound dampened recording studio or how your singer Joe sand loudly in the halls as the four of you left to go home, or maybe it was the fact that you told him you expected him to be much shorter from slouching behind his set. Come to think of it, it probably was the latter of the complaints you’ve gotten from the neighboring band.

The first time you met Roger Taylor was also your first day in the recording studio as an officially signed and contracted band. The group of you were leaving well past midnight, alcohol and cigarettes seemed to be the only way you four could make it through recording this late. As the group of you stumbled through the hallway, your laughter accompanied by Joe’s bass heavy vocals echoed loudly through the halls. Your troupe had just barely made your way to the first door before a head of messy blond hair and furrowed brows poked his head out from the neighboring recording room, “Would you shut your bloody traps, some of us are trying to record.” He snapped before loudly slamming the door behind him.

You and your bandmates froze, unsure of what to do or say. It wasn’t until Haz spoke up and shoved Joe “Yeah shut up, Joe.” He mocked while laughing. You couldn’t help but think of how familiar his face looked.

Just the thought of Roger Taylor was enough to make your mood sour for at least the next three hours. You frowned pushing the heavy doors to the outside open, inhaling the cool winter air. You needed to get out of that damn recording studio, it got so stuffy after having four people in there breathing the same air for hours at a time. You brought a cigarette to your lips and lit it, leaning against the brick building with your hands in your jacket pocket, the door next to you opened revealing your nemesis, Roger Taylor, much to your dismay. “Fuck now my cigarette is ruined.” You said blowing smoke out towards the air.

Roger rolled his eyes, “Piss off.” He retorted before walking past you and to his car to grab a few sets of spare sticks.

“Aw, not out here to join me for a smoke?” you joked.

Roger frowned and his face twisted into one of disgust “I’d rather eat a fist full of glass.” He spat at you bitterly.

You hummed taking a drag from your cigarette and blew the smoke directly in his face as he walked past you “Shame, we really could have bonded.”

Roger waved the smoke away from his face “Don’t you have to be a bitch somewhere else?”

Your face twisted as you stubbed your cigarette out with your boot “Don’t you have to bang on some pots and pans?” you retorted.

Roger rolled his eyes and pushed past you, throwing the door open and stomping down the hall. You waited a beat for him to make his way to Queen’s recording room before you followed suit. Seeing Roger Taylor in person was enough to sour your mood for a few days. You and your bad attitude made your way back to the studio, you loudly shut the door behind you which caught the attention of your bandmates. “What’s got you in a pissy mood?” Haz asked.

Benny smirked knowingly “You ran into roger while out on your smoke break, didn’t you?”

You huffed “I swear to god I’m going to fight his arrogant ass one of these days.” You said while pacing, too worked up to sit down.

Joe walked out of the booth “Well if you’re done brooding, get in and record your bass line for the song. We’ve been wasting time waiting for you to get back in.” He sounded almost as frustrated as you were.

You nodded, picking up your bass and walking into the booth, you put the headphones on and allowed for the music your bandmates had recorded previously to fill your eardrums as you added your bass line onto their unapologetically loud post-punk beats.

The music stopped and you looked up from your bass, “You sound like shit.” Benny said, “Not like good shit, but like actual shit.” He added.

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me?” you sounded shocked, “What?” You really couldn’t wrap your head around what Benny had just told you.

Joe nodded his head and gave you a sympathetic smile along with a thumbs down, “You should make it… make it more slappy I guess?”

You scoffed “Slappy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Benny clicked on the speaking button again “It means, make it sound slappy. Like this,” He said singing a bass like.

You nodded your head “Got it.” You said and waved your hand signaling them to roll the tape. You chewed on your lip and listened for a minute to think of something to play before you let your fingers fly down your frets and strings. When you finished you looked back up to the window “Slappy enough for you?”

“Fucking brilliant, per usual.” Haz complemented into the mic.

Movement in the background caught your attention though, you walked closer to the window and squinted your eyes trying to see into the poorly lit sound booth to the door. Where some tall figures stood “What’s going on back there?” You asked.

Haz shifted nervously in his seat “Don’t worry about it, we have other songs to do.” You could see him swallow thickly behind the glass that separated the two of you.

You were suspicious but he was right, “Fine, roll the bloody tape.” You were frustrated, frustrated with your shit takes, frustrated with Roger, frustrated with the fact you didn’t know what was going on from the outside of this stupid little box. Through the middle of your little recording session you saw your bandmates recongregate in front of the soundboard. They whispered and talked amongst themselves while the producer sat next to them obviously eavesdropping, you abruptly stopped “Are you going to tell me who was at the door? Or should I just keep playing and not having you pay attention.” You said bitterly.

Benny rolled his eyes and paused the recording, “If you really need to know, Freddie Mercury invited us to a gathering at his house later this evening.” He said waving an envelope in front of the window.

“You’ve got to be joking.” You said, letting go of your bass and allowing it to drop and hand loosely from the strap around your shoulder.

“Honest,” He said raising his hands defensively.

You took your headphones off and switched off the mic before screaming “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” From behind the soundproof booth, that did it. You rage had finally bubbled over, you shoved over the table holding your water, extra pics, and notes before breathing deeply and regathering yourself. “Let’s roll the fucking tape so we can get ready, yeah?” You said, as your bandmates looked at you with shocked expressions behind the glass. “You lot catching flies, or are we going to fucking record, let’s go.”

As you recorded your bandmates sat in an uncomfortable silence before one of them finally spoke “I’ve never seen [Y/N] that mad at anything in my life.” Haz started, leaning back in his chair.

Joe nodded his head, still listening intently but joining in on the conversation, “Yeah, but I bet it’s because she hasn’t gotten a proper lay in ages.”

Benny cracked open his beer and took a big gulp before grunting in agreement “You think she fancies Taylor?” he questioned.

“Yeah, but she can’t deal with her feelings, you know that. She’ll destroy this whole damn studio before she admits that.” Haz pointed out.

Benny nodded his head “Right, well I guarantee she is going to be piss drunk tonight, so I’ll keep an eye on her.”

---

After your litter outburst in the studio the boys decided to call it a day after your last take to allow for you all to go home and get ready for Freddie’s party, Ben would be making arounds later to pick everyone up but that wouldn’t be an issue considering he was also your roommate. You rifled through your closet, struggling to figure out what to wear. Your typical style didn’t seem grand enough for a Freddie Mercury party, but you made do with what you had and opted for comfort instead of sex appeal.

“Try not to fight anyone tonight.” Benny said as the two of you got into his small car.

You obviously knew what he was referencing but preferred to ignore it “I won’t, it’ll be fine, I’ve never been in a better mood.” You said and flashed him a fake cheesy smile.

Benny rolled his eyes knowing he would have his hands full tonight.

The drive to Freddie’s lavish home was surprisingly short, which you were grateful for seeing as sitting in the car was making you stir crazy. A pit of butterflies had formed in your stomach, but you had no idea why you had this sudden onset of nerves. You got along wonderfully with all of the other members of the famous rock and roll band and often times would ring up John Deacon for advice on your playing. You didn’t mind his bluntly honest critiques or his back handed complements that would make any other person run and cry. You were not any other person in the sense that you and John were very similar in that sense. Being the bassists in your respective bands meant you had to stand up for yourself otherwise you would get pushed to the background and often forgotten about by fans. It was your mutual understanding for the struggles of being bassists and strong drinkers that caused your professional friendship to form.

The group of you made your way to Freddie’s front door and were let in by nicely dressed doormen, and the scene before you was unlike anything you could have imagined. You knew his parties were the stuff of legends, but a party of this stature could rival even the great Jay Gatsby. You quickly lit a cigarette and took a glass of expensive white wine from one of the waitstaffs’ trays, promptly downing the small glass and handing it back to them, “Shall we?” You asked nodding your head into the large crowd of people before you.

Before you knew it, your bandmates had been swallowed by the crowd, causing you to lose sight of them and anyone else you may have recognized as a matter of fact. You meandered through the crowd towards the bar where you saw a familiar head of iconic curly hair, “Brian!” You said, greeting him with a friendly embrace which he returned. “It’s so nice to see you outside of the recording studio.” You jokingly said.

He laughed and nodded his head, “Yeah same to you.” He took a sip from his drink, “I heard you and Roger got into another little spat.” He could see the remanence of frustration behind your cheerful expression.

Your smile quickly dropped and was replaced by rolling eyes and deep sigh, “Did he tell you that?” You asked, you could feel your frustration boiling over.

“You know he’s sensitive about his drumming.” Brian chimed in with a smirk, oh did he love stirring the pot between the two of you.

“Well I’m sensitive about being called a bitch.” You said quickly swallowing the mixed drink your ordered, hoping the alcohol would ease your frustration.

Brian’s lips quirked into a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” That was a lie and both of you knew it.

You nodded, already nursing your next drink, these bartenders really did work at inhuman speeds “Right,” You said not believing his lie, “Where’s Fred and John?” You quipped.

“What, not curious about where the fourth member is?” Brian pressed, your silence caused him to put his hands up defensively “Only taking the piss.” He said, still smiling “Freddie is out back, and John is God knows where.”

You nodded your head before ordering another drink, back up if you will, and bidding Brian farewell before you pushed your way through the crowd to greet the host. Freddie was having a good time, per usual. You waved hello to him from the crowd of people, he yelled something you couldn’t hear over the music and reached for your hand pulling you into a warm friendly hug which you awkwardly returned given your hands were full. You handed Freddie your empty drink glass “What should I do with this?” You asked, he responded by taking the glass from your hand and throwing it out into the crowd of people, causing you to laugh while nursing your next drink.

You and Freddie laughed in your mutual drunken states “You know, darling, when Roger came back into the studio and mentioned how you said something about him banging on pots and pans I nearly died from laughter.” He said remembering the flushed and angry expression on his drummer’s face. “You know what I think?” He asked leaning into talk to you, you sipped your drink, looking up at Freddie wide eyed and pressing him to continue speaking “I think the two of you should fuck.”

You choked on your drink, coughing it all over the front of your shirt and wiping the dribble from your chin “What!” You asked in a shrill voice.

Freddie let out a bellowing laugh, “It would be brilliant, the two of you need a good fuck anyways.” He said trailing off at the end and taking a large sip from his highball glass.

“I can’t believe you would even suggest I sleep with that arrogant asshole.” You were honestly kind of offended that Freddie would group you with one of Roger’s lowly groupies.

“Hear me out, love.” He said, his stance wavering from the alcohol “Roger has had such a stick up his ass after quitting smoking and the divorce. I don’t think he’s gotten any decent pussy since we toured in the 80s and you? I don’t ever see you going home with any sort of eye candy.”

You rolled your eyes before you finished off your drink and set your glass on a table, “I don’t get any I’m the only female in a mostly male punk band, Fred.” You pointed out, using your now empty hands to light a cigarette, “I’m not even a lead, I just play bass.” You said blowing smoke out into the night sky.

“Oh rubbish, you’re a damn good bassist or John wouldn’t even give you the time of say.” What Freddie said was true. While John was harsh in his critiques, you knew it was only because he saw the raw talent you had.

You nodded your head only half listening to Freddie, your mind still caught up on trying to imagine how sex with Roger Taylor would be. A bitter frown crossed your lips, you would never fuck Roger Taylor, “I need a refill.” You huffed before promising Fred you would come back immediately after your drink. You pushed your way through the crowd, your arm raised as to not burn anyone with your lit cigarette. You tried desperately to find your bandmates, but alas due to the large crowd it was no use.

Either way, you needed another drink.

You quickly made you way to the bar back inside the house and ordered a shot of whiskey and chased it with a full beer before you ordered another mixed drink. The copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed were finally catching up to you, your face felt hot and flushed and your skin tingled delightfully. You hummed, sipping your drink and making your way to the bathroom to finally break the seal. After checking several of the first-floor bathrooms, only to find their handles locked you frowned in frustration and made your way up the stairs to the second level of Freddie’s mansion before you finally found an unlocked bathroom. You promptly went in and relieved yourself as you exited you ran into a surprisingly firm body, sloshing your drink and theirs on each other’s respective shirts “Who invited you here?” The voice sent a chill of frustration up your spine and to your alcohol flushed face.

You looked up, locking eyes with an equally intoxicated Roger Taylor, you huffed moving to push past him “Freddie did, the other members of your group actually seem to enjoy my company.” You said, once again moving to squeeze past him. Your efforts were to no avail, as he had firmly planted both hands on either side of the door, trapping you in the bathroom. “Get out of my way.” You said impatiently, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You’re always a right cunt you know that?” he said in a matter of fact tone.

You grit your teeth and clenched your drink harder “You’re the one that’s the cunt, maybe it’s all that groupie pussy that’s ruined your respect for women.”

Roger scoffed, here he was, nearly forty years old and throwing insults at some newbie punk rocker. “I don’t know if I’d call you a woman, maybe a failed guitarist sure, but a woman or lady not so much.” He said crossing his arms over his chest giving you a smug look.

“I think your sticks are too far up your ass, Taylor,” You spoke as you pushed past him. Before you had time to react you felt hands on your shoulders pushing you hard against with wall causing you drop the glass in your hands, allowing it to shatter on the ground and the breath to escape from your lungs, you groaned but didn’t know if it was from the pain of your back colliding with the wall behind you or from the adrenaline you felt rising in your veins and stomach.

Roger’s strong hands held you firmly against the wall and his calloused fingertips brushed against the skin on your collar causing a light shutter to run through your body “I have half a mind to shut you up right here.” He threatened, his usually bright blue eyes now clouding over with something much darker.

You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the pressure of having his knee right between your legs, but you felt a sudden boldness “Do it,” You pressed, articulating your words and hoping to get a rise out of him.

With that, he pressed his lips against you with force, causing your teeth to clank together and your head to fall back, knocking against the wall. His roughness causing a sultry moan to slip from your lips, “You’re pathetic.” He hissed pulling your hair and tilting your head to expose your neck and leaving hot opened mouth kisses along your jawline to your neck where he harshly bit down causing you to shove him back.

Roger gripped tightly to your hips causing the two of you to stumble backwards from the force of your push “Take me to a bedroom and fuck me already.” You said impatiently. Freddie wouldn’t mind if the two of you had a quick romp in the sheets in one of his many bedrooms, after all he was the one that instigated the whole thing.

The two of you stumbled, a mess of tangled and drunken limbs as you fell back into the first open bedroom you could find. Roger flipped on the light switch, not breaking the kiss and revealing a large well decorated room with an equally large bed in the middle. He shut the door behind him with one arm and shoved you back onto the bed with the other. Your eyes caught your reflection in the side mirror, your hair was a mess accompanied by smeared make up and eyes clouded with lust.

You quickly slipped your boots off and lifted your hips to help Roger take your pants off. Quickly, he flipped you over and pushed you forward. You adjusted yourself, ass in the air and legs spread showing off your already wet pussy. Roger groaned looking at it and ran a finger through your slick folds “You truly are pathetic, you know that, [Y/N]? I’ve barely touched you and here you go making a mess all over Freddie’s sheets.” He inserted two fingers into you agonizingly slow and licked his lips feeling the tightness of you engulf him, “A shit bassist, shit song writer, shit musician, shit person…” He emphasized each of his words with the slow lazy thrusting of his fingers. You let out a choked sob, desperate for him to give you more, “What was that?” He asked smugly, “If you want to get fucked, you’re going to have to be louder for me.” He said before pulling his fingers out leaving you feeling empty.

You pushed back against hand, “No-” you said sharply. You spread your legs further and arched your back “Please,” you hated how he had complete control over the situation, but at the same time loved it.

“Please what?” He asked swiping the head of his cock between your damp folds, intently watching as your juices coated him.

“Fuck me.” You said softly, clenching the bedsheets.

He raised his hand and placed a sharp smack on your ass causing you to jolt “Ah, fuck. Just stick it in already Roger.” You hissed.

Without warning the blond lined up to your entrance and pushed in, not giving you time to adjust. He let out a choking groan, not expecting you to be as tight as you were, “Fucking Christ.” He hissed snapping his hips against yours with purpose.

You gripped the bedsheets and cried out, feeling him stretch your walls unapologetically. There was no foreplay and no care in how either of you handled each other, just wanton need mixed with the mutual resentment you had for each other.

Roger propped one of his legs up to angle deeper into you and leaned over, pushing the side of your face into the mattress as he relentlessly pounded into you, years upon years of frustration he couldn’t hold back. He fucked his failed marriage, arguments with the band, cigarette cravings, and the comments you made about how shitty you thought his drumming was into you as he drove you into the mattress. Your legs shook and eyes rolled into the back of your head from the pleasure you received from the new angle and you let out a string of garbled words neither of you could understand. “This whole party can probably hear how much of a slut you are.” He said slipping his thumb into your mouth to which you greedily sucked on, “I didn’t expect you to have such a tight pussy” He huffed and groaned feeling your walls flutter against him, “’Cos you seemed like such an easy lay.” He let out a breathless laugh, knowing how right he was.

Your arms had given out and were sprawled out in front of you and drool had started to dribble down your chin from Roger’s thumb pressing down on your tongue forcing your mouth open to hear your sinful cries, you knew your legs weren’t going to hold you up much longer and Roger knew that as well.

He quickly pulled out and flipped you over onto your back in a less than graceful manor before he hitched your legs over his hips and pushed himself back in, continuing his relentless pace. You reached your hand into his hair and tugged roughly on his while your other hand raked its nails down his back causing him to arch into your touch and his movement to faulter.

You were surprised to feel a hand slip between your legs and begin rubbing rough circles around your clit, guess chivalry wasn’t dead after all, you squirmed against his touch the stimulation almost becoming too much for you to handle. Your walls twitched, clamping down around Roger, earning a shuttering moan from him.

You were both close.

“R-Rog…” You let out a stuttering moan feeling your climax building in your gut.

“Come on, you can’t be that daft, use your words.” He huffed, gripping your chin to make you face him, “I want this whole party to know who’s fucked you by the time I’m done.” He said through gritted teeth.

You opened your eyes and your mouth hung ajar, breathing heavily as you made eye contact with the mess of a man before you. Roger’s shirt had ridden up, and his pants were half pulled down and accompanied by sweaty and matted hair, you hated how the look in his eyes caused your walls to clamp down hard on his cock, squeezing him as you reached your climax, yelling his name with a hoarse and cracked voice for the whole party downstairs to hear, and the face he made as clenched your thighs and hip and reached his own, releasing hot spurts of come into you. He hunched over you, letting out shaky breaths as he worked you through your orgasm. He hated you but wasn’t a monster.

Roger stopped and swallowed thickly while trying to catch his breath, you glanced over at the mirror seeing red scratched zig zagging on his back and sat in silence, wondering which one of you would cave first and break it. The drummer pulled out of you and tried to hide the whimper that escaped him at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around his sensitive cock but failed, before he tucked himself back into his pants, “Still think you’re a bitch.” He said tucking his shirt back into his pants and tightening his belt.

“You’re a shit lay.” You tried to insult as you got up, steps wavering and some of the evidence of your prior actions leaking down the inside of your thigh.

Roger bit his lip at the sight and watched you pull your pants up, “Right and the whole crowd downstairs couldn’t hear your pathetic voice five minutes ago.” He said before turning to leave, giving you a short wave “Ta,” he said and left, walking downstairs with no shame.

Your hips ached as you walked to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you hated how that was your first penetrative orgasm, and you hated the ache between your legs, and you hated the smug look on Roger’s face after he left because the both of you knew he was probably the best lay you’ve had. But you couldn’t find it in you to be angry, not while in your post orgasm haze. You walked down the steps, taking it easy, and made your way to the bar and ordered a mixed drink to quench your thirst, desperately hoping that the stares you received weren’t because these strangers knew you just had been fucked so hard you could still feel the muscles in your legs twitching or that you could still feel the remains of your and Roger’s essence leaking out of you even after you cleaned yourself off.

You ordered a shot and a beer, quickly down the shot and moved to drink the beer before it was taken from your hands. You turned to see Freddie nursing what used to be your beer with a knowing smirk on his face, “[Y/N],” He said in a sing song voice.

“I didn’t fuck Roger” You said defensively.

Freddie grinned and handed you back your beer which you promptly drank out of “I didn’t say that, but you just confirmed.” He nudged your side, “Was it good? You know I caught Roger walking down the steps and he flashed me this grin.” He paused to order a drink, “And you know what I said to myself? I said, oh no Roger only makes that face after he fucked a good cunt. Then what do you know” He shrugged in an animated fashion “I see none other than you, darling, walking down the stairs, stiff as a board.” Freddie was about to continue rambling before you cut him off.

“I hate him.” You said placing a cigarette between your lips and lighting it, inhaling deeply.

Freddie practically ignored your comment, “But it was good wasn’t it?” Your silence was all he needed to answer “See!” He pointed out.

As the night continued so did your consumption of alcohol, you felt your drink being taken out of your hands and a blurry figure and closed on eye to focus your vision. It was a very pissed off Benny, “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we got here.” He said, drinking your drink.

You whined and leaned onto Benny’s chest “Hey, I was drinking that.” Your words slurred together.

“You look like a mess.” He said wrapping an arm around you to help steady your poor balance, your make up was smeared, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled. But thankfully your drunken state covered for your earlier romp in the sheets. “We have to go home,” He said pulling you along, “Come on.”

Your steps wavered as you began walking out “Wait,” You said abruptly stopping, “I have to say bye to Fred.”

Benny rolled his eyes “You’ve been with Fred all night, I’m sure he’ll understand that we need to leave.” You let out a whiney protest, “It’s 4am, [Y/N]” he said as if pointing out the early hour in the morning was going to make you want to leave more.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and firmly stood your ground, “Fine, for god’s sake Joe go find Freddie.” Benny said running a frustrated hand through his hair.

To you what seemed like hours but was truly minutes passed and Freddie was before you, and equally as drunk mess as you were, hanging off Jim’s shoulder. The two of you held each other in a drunken embrace and Freddie kissed your cheek goodbye before Benny pulled you off.

As Benny and Joe practically pushed you into the car you caught sight of a familiar blonde who was also about to leave, you rolled your window down “Hey!” You shouted, catching Taylor’s attention “You’re a bitch!” You shouted, to which he flipped you the finger and yelled ‘fuck off’ as you and your bandmates drove away.

After dropping off your two other bandmates at home Benny draped your arm across his back and held you at the waist, as you struggled to stand. “’M gonna puke.” You said feeling your stomach doing flips and a sudden cold chill crawl up your spine and settle where your ears and jaw connected. You moved to kneel on the soft grass on the side of your parking area and your hair fell around your face as you retched, trying to use your arms to hold yourself up, they were so tired and your elbows jerked, threatening to give out.

Benny pulled your hair back, seeing a large and deep mark of varying shades of red and purple on your neck, “What the fuck is this?” He asked poking the side of your neck when you finished puking and started to regain your breath. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and mumbled some incoherent words, “What?” He asked again.

“I fucked Roger!” You said loudly, sitting back on the concrete.

“Ssshhh,” He said putting a hand over your mouth “You’re going to wake the whole bloody neighborhood.”

You swayed in your seated position and fell into Benny’s chest, “I fucked Roger,” You said in a loud whisper.

“Yeah, I got that much.” Benny said, hooking his arms under your shoulders and pulling you up with him, the two of you made the long arduous walk to up to your apartment building. Benny laid you in your bed and unlaced your boots, you let out a huff still frustrated with yourself, “Was it good at least?” your roommate asked while handing you a glass of water.

You sat up in your bed and gulped it down “Yes,” you said in a defeated voice “But it doesn’t change anything, I still can’t stand the bloody prick.”

Benny hummed “Right,” He said nodding his head and taking the glass from your hands, “We can talk more about this in a few hours, the birds are chirping.”

---

When you awoke a few hours later you groaned, clutching your head feeling the insistent pounding of a hangover rattling through you and an ache between your legs, “Shit,” You said out loud remembering your actions from the night before. You got out of bed seeing you were still in last night clothes and slipped into an oversized tee shirt and put on some sunglasses to help shield your eyes from the bright light of day before you shuffled out of your bedroom and into the bathroom to find something to curb your headache.

You grabbed the pill bottle of over the counter pain killer and made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water and were greeted by your bandmates all in your living room. You opened your mouth to issue an apology for being a drunken mess last night but before you could get words out Joe interrupted you “Don’t worry, Haz puked all over the nice tile near Freddie’s pool right before we left so you weren’t the worst off.” Haz hid his face bashfully and nodded at you feeling your pain.

You grabbed a glass of water and made yourself comfortable in your usual spot in the living room, not caring that you weren’t wearing pants. You were comfortable enough with your bandmates and paid half the rent here so you really should be able to do whatever you damn well pleased in the place you called home. Much to your dismay you were already thrown a heap of questions “So I heard you fucked Roger last night.” Joe said bluntly.

You paused bringing your glass of water to your mouth to drink and were thankful your sunglasses hid your expression, “Yeah we fucked. What of it?” You asked defensively.

Joe made a face and put his hands up, “I was only making conversation.” He muttered bringing up his cup of tea before drinking it.

You were not going to hear the end of it.

Chapter 2: We Can Hate Each Other in the Morning >>>

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louthestarspeaker · 4 years

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Ask time! A, G, J, V, S (I'm reaaaally imaginative, oops)

Thanks for the questions! :D

A. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

So technically that would be Ever After High five-ish or so years ago. There was this character Bunny Blanc who I adored, and I decided it would be fun to write about her adventures in Wonderland in a diary format. I had a blast, but I was also twelve so there was nothing particularly good or original there. It is a very good thing I was unaware of spaces like AO3 or FF.Net, otherwise it would have be immortalized in the internet, and we really don't need that. I think I still have the notebook laying around though, might be fun to flip through XD

As for the first fandom I actually participated in and posted stories, that was Thunderbirds. I saw TAG on Amazon and fell in LOVE. I've been writing for them for... almost three years now I think? Though I only joined tumblr a few months ago. It was actually your stories that lead me here, Tsari. After your influx of IR Relief fic popped up on FF.Net I found my way to tumblr, and it has been a blast :D

G. Do you prefer writing one-shots or chaptered fics?

I think of one-shots like paper planes, I make one and then I let it fly and that's really the end of my involvement. But posting a multi-chapter fic is more like launching a kite, it's out there, but I still have to make sure it doesn't like crash into a tree or something. (Weird analogy but that's how I best describe it XD)

Most of my work are one-shots, which I have a lot of fun with and I stick with because I really only need an Idea or concept. Usually with those I just work on capturing a feeling or a moment. I don't necessarily need to have a plot (which are the bane of my existence). At the same though, writing Floodswept (which, as of now, is my sole multi-chapter fic) was a great experience. That story went completely off the rails, and while I personally blame Gordon, I had a lot of fun. Plus it was nice to have one story to keep coming back to, instead of having to think up a new concept every time I sat down to write.

So... that was a really long answer that didn't actually answer the question, so... I don't know? XD

J. What is your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Oh another hard question! I've got to decide more stuff now! (Conveniently ignoring the fact that I didn't really decide anything last question) I think I would have to go with Gravel, which is what I've decided to name my Sensory Sunday story that went up without a title.I feel kind of funny singling it out as my favorite cause it's so sad, but the writing process for that one was very natural and effortless. I'm not sure if those are the write words, but I was very much in The Zone, if that makes sense. The story itself reminds me of poetry almost, and I was very proud of the result.

V. Do you prefer writing established relationships or first times?

I haven't really written anything romantic because I find family dynamics more fun to work with and easier for me to relate to, but if I did write a love story I'm pretty positive it would be an established relationship. Though for me an established relationship doesn't have to mean romantic. I love the friends to lovers trope because the characters already know each other and are comfortable with each other. It's sweet and cozy and fluffy and I adore that, probably because it feels close to my family dynamics niche.

There is a story idea floating around in my brain that has the potential to turn into a love story, I'm just trying to decide if I'm brave enough to write it XD

S. What is your favorite pairing to write?

So like I said before I don't really write romantic parings, so I'm gonna cheat and use my favorite family and friend dynamics. I adore writing Virgil with pretty much anyone, because he's big teddy bear, but he usually ends up with Gordon because I love them together. They're like yin and yang but they *work* and they also understand each other really well, so they can work in seamless silence or know just what to say to get on each other's nerves. It's brilliant!

Also Gordon pops up in my work a lot in general, he's needy and demands attention and likes to hijack my fics. But I let him cause I love him. Plus, if I have a weird idea and go "would anyone actually ever do this though?" chances are Gordon would- and with style too :D

I also also adore John and Lady P, I haven't written much about them but if Gordon is my "would anyone ever do this?" than these two are my "would anyone ever say this?". Writing dialogue for them is so much fun, I love their dry wit, plus it's fun to write in British English for Lady P.

(Edit: this is me realizing I didn’t decide anything for this last one either...)

#ask game #thunderbirds fandom

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gosh-im-short · 4 years

Text

Prejudice Painted in Our Minds Chapter 1

Summary: Lillian and Calum have always been at odds. The two have never been able to get along and that never doesn’t seem to be changing any time soon. But when they both learn that Calum’s sister and Lillian’s best friend, Melanie, is dating a guy they both don’t approve of, it seems they have something in common after all.

Warnings: uh nothing so far. a mutual dislike for Kyle and some jabs at the dude

word count: 3.6k

a/n: okay first of all i really want to thank Hailey @talkfastromance4 for helping me with this fic. she’s been letting me just blabber about it for a bit now and im really happy it’s finally coming through yay. i don’t have a face claim set for Lillian (unless me but lets be realistic) or Melanie so hopefully my descriptions don’t suck too bad. and hopefully the pov shifts back sense as well. anyway umm I hope you guys like it and if this flops ah uh we’ll just never speak of it

taglist: @galcalirwin @tea4sykes (if you guys wanna read this that is)

The steady beating of her finger beat down onto the high table as Lillian waited. Melanie was suppose to meet her for lunch, but so far the woman hadn’t arrived yet. She started to chew her lip as she brought out her phone. No notifications yet. So maybe she was on her way? Hopefully she hadn’t forgotten. A slight smile crept up onto Lillian’s face. Melanie had a habit of forgetting that is for sure.

But as she took another glance at the cafe’s door, she saw her best friend rushing down the sidewalk outside of the cafe. Lillian’s smile widened as Melanie opened the door making a chiming sound appear and walked in. The eighteen year old, dark skinned and black haired woman looked disheveled with her pale yellow sweater dipping down from her shoulder. She looked over and caught Lillian’s gaze before she walked over to her. Lillian looked slightly up as Melanie came and sat down at the table.

“Sorry, I’m so late. Traffic was a pain.” Melanie exhaled as she set her skinny forearms down onto the table and rested her chin down on them.

“It’s fine.” Lillian said with a wave of her hand as she glanced down at her friend. Melanie was on the side of... Well... dramatic. She tended to be over dramatic at times and made life seem like it was suppose to be filmed. Was it a little ridiculous sometimes? Yes. Did Lillian want to throw a table sometimes? Absolutely. But she didn’t. Why? Melanie was her best friend and if that was her best fault, well she couldn’t let that come between them.

“Did you order yet?” Melanie asked as she rose her honey brown eyes up at her.

“Oh no not yet.” Lillian said as she glanced at the register. “I wanted to wait for you.” A small smile came onto Melanie’s lips.

“Well isn’t that sweet?”

“And also make you pay for your own stuff.” Lillian decided to throw a tease at the woman.

“Hey.” Melanie said with a grin before she reached out and ruffled Lillian’s brown hair.

“Hey yourself.” Lillian laugher as she fixed her frizzy hair. And she just got it somewhat perfect too. Sigh.

“It’s not my fault my parents are stingy about my allowance.” Melanie said with her signature pout. “They usually let Calum get it first.” But at the mention of her adoptive older brother, Lillian’s face fell. If you measured the amount of love that Lillian had for her best friend, then you would be able to equal that to the hate she had for Calum. Oh yes. Calum. Just the thought of his name made Lillian’s nose wrinkle.

While Melanie was easily the light of Lillian's life... her step brother was an entirely different subject. He was the bane of her existence to put it simply. The one that always was in the back of her mind like a fly that was buzzing around her head. And there were times she really, really wanted to slap him. Metaphorically or physically? Both.

“Ah. I see.” Was all that Lillian said with a slow nod. For some reason Calum always had a bone to pick with her. From the first day she met him, he was always rubbing her the wrong way. And she never did anything to him. He was just... Calum. In every annoying way he was.

“Lilly, are you listening?” Melanie’s voice rang out into her thoughts. Lillian sat up more.

“I- no. Sorry I wasn’t.” She apologized with a shy smile as Melanie sighed.

“Its all right.” Melanie said with a a wave of her hand. “I was just talking nonsense anyway.”

“Oh well umm... should we order?” Lillian offered with a tilt of her head. Her brown locks dipped down and touched her bicep.

“Sure.” Melanie said before the two of them stood up and walked towards the cashier.

The café was a rather popular place. It was nestled in on a corner in the downtown part of the city. It was Lillian’s favorite place because of classical music and it served frozen coffee. Frozen coffee was far superior to iced coffee in Lillian's opinion. And coffee would always top over those disgusting liquid leaves. Ugh. She chewed on her lip as Melanie ordered a very sugary drink along with a pastry that also had a lot of sugar in it. Melanie was always that type of girl with a loud and unashamed laugh followed with a snort out of her button like nose that just made anything and everything that much funnier. The teachers in their high school had learned very quickly not to let the two of them sit together. Once Lillian finished ordering her coffee and bagel (with cream cheese of course), she headed back to the table. Melanie was already sitting down and gazing out of the window. Her thin eyebrows were pulled together in a furrow as she stared out. Huh. Lillian sat down in front of her. She was definitely thinking of something. Lillian looked down at her miniature hands. She had discovered a while ago that if Melanie wanted to tell her something that was bothering her, oh she would definitely tell it. A couple minutes passed in between them in which the calm and understanding quietness existed. Lillian scrolled through her phone to see what posts she was tagged in. Melanie did the same thing while chuckling to herself about something only to shove her phone into Lillian's view to show exactly what was funny (which happened a lot since Melanie laughed at sometimes the most dumbest stuff.) Lillian stayed in her seat with her ankles crossed and her forearms settled on the table until her name was called and she had to rise, mostly awkwardly because of the tall table that she had chosen. Once seated, she situated her iced coffee and the wrapped bagel down on the table along with her napkins and knife. And just... just when she was about to bite into her cream cheesed bagel- Melanie spoke up "So I have something to tell you." Melanie said in a sort of rushed manner. Lillian slowly set her bagel down on the wrapper. "Uh- yeah. Shoot." She said as she gave a glance down at the unbitten bagel. Then she looked at her friend who was chewing on her bottom lip. Uh oh. This something... was going to be something it seemed. "So uh- it's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now." Melanie said as she clasped her hands together on the table. "You see.... there's no easy way to say this." She exhaled a laugh as she looked down and away from her. Lillian shifted in her seat uneasily. "I have a boyfriend." Lillian's eyes went wide as she stared at her best friend. Of all the things... she... she can't be serious about this. Melanie took a chance and glanced up at her friend with an awkward smile on her face. "Surprise?" "I... umm... wow." Lillian breathed out as she... well. It was definitely a surprise. "How long have you two been together?" "Two weeks now." Melanie answered with now a shy smile. She propped her elbow onto the table and leaned her cheek into her palm. "And he, so far, has been a dream." "Ah... well uh- wow. This is great." Lillian said as she sat up straighter in her chair. "I'm happy for you." And she was, but... just.... she wished Melanie would have said something about it before now. "But uh..." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Why I didn't say anything?" Melanie finished for her. Lillian offered a short nod. "Well.... to put it simply... you wouldn't have approved of him." Lillian titled her head confused. "What? Why not?" "Well..." Melanie trailed off and looked to the side. "Do I know him?" Lillian started to fill in the gaps as she leaned closer to her friend. "Uh... yes." Melanie was fiddling with the bracelet adoring her wrist now. "So... who is he?" Lillian asked as she studied her friend. Then... wait. "It's not Dylan right?" Melanie's brown eyes flew open as they snapped back up to her. "Because you promised you would not go back to that cheating son of a-" "Oh- no." Melanie interrupted as she flapped her hands around like a frightened bird. "It's not Dylan. It... it's Kyle." And at that- Lillian's jaw fell. "Kyle? The guy who was always high on powerade?" She said as she stared at her best friend in disbelief. "Yes... but that was in high school! We're in college now." Melanie reminded her with a nod as if that made it completely fine. "Yes- but... he.... he's... Kyle." Lillian stressed out the name of the long haired, Naurto loving... man. It seemed he was more of a child most of the time. And the fact that he just looked like he did crack half of the time as well? Ugh. "I know." Melanie said with a sigh as she looked back at her. "But he... you just don't know him." Lillian rolled her eyes. "I know him well enough to know that I just... don't like him." She defended her opinion of the man. Melanie let out a frustrated sigh. "Yeah, yeah... I know. Which is kinda why I delayed on telling you." Lillian bit on her lip. Then she slowly exhaled. "I... I can't really stop you from dating him, but I... just..." Her words trailed off as she reached up and moved her hair back. "I don't want you to get hurt again." Melanie reached out and placed her hand on top of hers. "I know. I know you don't me to get hurt." She told her friend softly. "But I trust him. He's a good guy." Lillian just bit her lip and nodded a few times. "If you say so." She mused before she was sipping her cold coffee. Melanie was quick to switch the subject to a different one. Lillian mostly listened and nodded as Melanie rattled on with her story. It was usually like this- Melanie speaking and Lillian listening. But Lillian didn't mind, she liked listening to her friend speak. She had a certain way with her soft voice, but loud expressions. Melanie could make even the most boring story full of life like she was Persephone. Then the two were standing up from the table and sharing their goodbyes. Lillian headed out of the café with the sun glowing down onto brown hair before she disappeared down the sidewalk and out of Melanie's view. Melanie smiled to herself before she turned and headed down the sidewalk herself. The rising heat of the sun warmed her dark skin as she headed back to her apartment. She and Calum shared an apartment together. Calum was currently working during the day so she didn't expect to see him anytime soon. So it was a sudden surprise when she walked into the apartment to see her older brother lounging on the couch. Calum was clad in sweatpants- as usual- and was spread out on their couch. His attention was on the screen of the tv sported in front of him until his head swerved over to her as she closed the door. "Hey." He said rather casually as he looked back at the screen. "Hey. I thought you were working today?" Melanie questioned as she came further into their living room and stood next to the couch. "Yeah me too, but," a one shoulder shrug paused his words, "I requested a later shift." Melanie nodded a few times. "Oh okay. Move the leg." She directed her older brother before he did as she said. Calum learned a long time ago that if he didn't move the leg, the leg would be sat on. She sat down next to him as he fixed his position on the couch. Her brown eyes landed on the tv screen as a comedy was playing with it's laugh track appearing. She bit her lip as she stared forward before her eyes drifted back to her brother. Well.... she told one of them. Might as well try to tell the other. "So Calum." She started out while clasping her hands and looking down at them. At the sound of his sister's voice, Calum looked over at her. "Yeah?" He asked with one of his thick eyebrows raising. What was up with her? "There's something I've been meaning to tell you." He sat up a little bit more and looked over at her. His silence only prompted her to continue. "Uh so uh- I told Lillian this morning about this but-" "Oh so that's where you were. With Lilly." He interrupted her as his eyebrows rose further. Melanie gaze met his with an annoyance sparking in her brown eyes. "You know she hates that nickname." She stated flatly as Calum fought the desire to smirk. And that was the reason he referred to her as that. "Anyway as I was saying.... uh..." once again that nervous expression was back on her face. "You see... uh.... I have a boyfriend." What. "You have a what." Calum repeated as he stared at his sister in shock. "A boyfriend." She repeated as she looked down at her hands. He couldn't believe this. "Who?" He questioned as he turned to face his sister completely on the couch. Then... oh. Oh no. "It's not Dylan right?" To his surprise, a huff came out of her lips. "No it is not Dylan. It's Kyle." Calum was sure his eyes were going to bulge out of his head. "Kyle?" He repeated after her. He couldn't believe this. "The Kyle from high school? The one I'm pretty sure took drugs?" "Oh for the love of- Kyle does not do drugs!" She exclaimed while throwing her hands into the air. "He's a very sweet guy actually and we're dating and I just wanted to let you know." His lips pressed together as he studied her. Her eyes were now directed on the screen firmly. Her hands were clasping around the ends of her sweater. Slowly a sigh exhaled out of him. Melanie could be very stubborn about some things. Whether that be her opinion or her life choices. And it seemed this was going to be one of those times. "I... all right. Can I meet the guy?" Again he wanted to add, but decided not to mention the infamous moment of Kyle spilling his drink on his shirt that one time... no. He had not forgotten. Melanie's eyebrows rose and she gave him a quizzical look. "What?" "You... actually want to see him?" "Yeah... sure. See if he's actually changed." Or if his sister is just believing in the best again. She was silent for a few moments. Then a slow smile came onto your lips. "Sure. We can all go out to eat tonight, that is... if you can make it there." "Make it an early dinner around five and sure." Melanie nodded as he turned his attention back to the tv screen as she pulled out her phone. Maybe it was time to kill two birds with one stone. __ Lillian checked her reflection in the mirror as she smoothed the fabric of the navy dress over her hips. It was a dark blue that was snug against her waist and was sleeveless as well. There were splotches of glitter across her torso that fortunately didn't dig into her chest. The dress stopped at the base of her knees in a flowing manner while the upper level of it was snug against her body. Over all she thought she looked rather well in it. She hadn't done much with her makeup except her lashes, brows, and lips and she had pulled her brown hair back into a low bun. For one it drew more attention to the silver jewelry she had on her neck and for the fact that her hair was quite frizzy. She picked up her purse and her black heels before she was making her way to the door of her apartment. She slipped on her heels and a black coat before she was making her way out. Her apartment wasn't entirely large. It consisted of two medium sized bedrooms, a kitchen that flowed into the living room, a bathroom that connected in between the two bedrooms, and a laundry room right next to the kitchen. Well okay maybe it was a little big. But there were apartments that were bigger. The sounds of the rushing past cars greeted her ears as she stepped out of the complex and onto the cleaned sidewalk. The click of her heels corresponded with her steps as she walked down the busy street. The cars flew wind at her exposed legs and she hugged her coat closer around her body. The restaurant Melanie wanted her to meet at was only a few minutes away from her apartment since she lived practically in the middle of the city. Lillian had been surprised at Melanie's offer for them to spontaneously have dinner at a quite expensive place hence all her get up. But she had understood once Melanie mentioned the fact that Kyle was going to be there. And she had said she wanted to meet him. So even though she had planned to stay snug in her bed this night, she decided to put on that dress she's been saving for a nice date and get out of her apartment. __ Calum stepped into the dim lightened restaurant and immediately sought out his sister. She had left a few minutes before him (somehow she had gotten herself ready in record time) and had gone to pick up Kyle it seems. The man didn't have transportation apparently. Some of Calum's building up annoyance disappeared whenever he spotted his sister at a white clothed table in the distance. He walked across the carpeted area until he was standing at the table. Melanie paused her talking whenever her dark eyes met his and a smile blossomed onto her face. Kyle turned in his seat and met his gaze as well. "Calum! Long time no see." The toothy grinned man greeted him before he held out a tattoo covered hand to him. Calum mentally grimaced as he glanced down at Kyle's pale hand. It looked... sweaty. But he forced himself to reach down and shake the man's hand. "Yeah... been a few months." He answered as his dark eyes met the man's bright hazel ones. Kyle's dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the back of his head. It made his forehead and nose stand out that much more. Kyle didn't seem to have that much of style still it seemed. He took a seat in front of his sister who had a nervous look on her face. Then... wait. Why was there another setting next to him? He was about to ask before Melanie suddenly stood up. "Lillian! You made it!" Calum froze at his sister's words before he slowly turned. His dark eyes met Lillian's bright blue ones as she stared straight at him. He swallowed as he took in her open, painted red mouth that hung down as her brows were risen. She was... definitely not expecting him, huh? Well he wasn't expecting her either. He gave a glance at his sister as she sat down before he turned his attention back to Lillian. She was walking towards him now with the sound of the skirt brushing against her bare legs greeting his ears. He swallowed as his eyes drifted downwards before they floated back up to her. The dress was absolutely stunning on her. It complimented her eyes making them an even brighter blue and he had to admit the dress fitted her curves quite well. But the hair... it was too slicked bad. Too kept back. It exposed her neck and collarbones, sure, but he never liked it whenever she had her hair pulled back or up. She slipped into the seat beside him and for a brief moment her knee bumped into his. Calum swallowed as he faced away from her and back to his sister. "Kyle, it's nice to see you again." Lillian greeted in that overly too soft and sugarly sweet tone she always used with someone that was younger and less mature then her. Calum almost rolled his eyes. "Yeah wow. Lillian, you look great! It has been a while, hasn't it?" Kyle commented as a grin was set on his face. Calum picked up a menu and started to browse through it. "Yeah it sure has. Umm you look great too." She politely said as Calum gave a glance forward. Kyle was wearing a dusty old shirt and probably jeans. Great was very overexaggerated. "Thanks." Kyle answered back as Calum turned his attention back to the menu. The prices were the first thing that stood out to him as he browsed through. Melanie had certainly taken them all to an expensive place to get to know Kyle. Irony was that Kyle was still... Kyle. Clad in probably a band t-shirt and worn out blue jeans. It looked like he was never going to change. A loud clap suddenly got Calum's attention as his eyes diverted back up. "So? Who's hungry?" Kyle asked as he looked around the table with that same stupid grin plastered on his face. Mentally a groan wanted to come out of Calum's mouth. This was going to be a long dinner.

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