#this is the other song that my brain screams 'again!!' when it's finished | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soobrat · 2 months

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mosquito; choi soobin

part one; on a monday... masterlist

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ pairing; popstar!soobin x rising star!reader

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ synopsis; Soobin is one of the names you think of when you say "Pop Star", which remains true after his recent cold streak. To make up for his cold streak, his company urges him to enter a relationship with you, a rising star. Dreading another publicity stunt relationship, he says no before they get to the part where you're none the wiser.

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ words; 7.9k

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ genre; smut, slight angst, humor, alternate universe, opposite attract, unrequited love, fake relationship

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ warnings; celeb sex party (if that makes you uncomfy considering recent events, please click here), breast play, fingering, piv, dom!soobin, eventual sub!jihyo, numbness to sex

˗ˏˋ🎧´ˎ˗ series song recs; mosquito by pinkpantheress, so i by charli xcx, turn it up by pinkpantheress

↻ ◁ || ▷ : New series! And it won't be as angsty as the other ones. Just light hearted fun... I hope. Also, this will be the only part that includes this many texts.

“...sex appeal?”

Soobin’s mind feels infested with the amount of thoughts swarming in his head. He has to meet with his… He needs to work on… He hasn’t had sex in a long time. Sex… didn’t she just say something about that? Oh, and he has to–

“Soobin!”

“Huh?” Soobin’s body flinches but his brain lags. His vision focuses on his phone he must have zoned out from while holding. He shifts his focus to his manager who is waiting patiently with an exaggerated smile. He smiles apologetically. “Come again?”

“I–” Sakura tries and immediately fails at talking, looking as if she's pushing the words down like bile. “Just… was it the sex appeal?” Her words send chills down Soobin’s spine.

“I told you my skin crawls when you try that.” Soobin’s attention is still locked onto his phone despite his manager.

“Try what.” Sakura pops her lips, sauntering toward him in a way only an aunt wanting to be cool would. The shockwaves from the high levels of cringe physically shake him. Soobin side eyes her, alarmed. He scoots away as she sits next to him. “Saying naughty words to sound cool.”

“Whatever. Was Jini that sexy?” Her tone straightens out, but he can tell she’s still trying to sound nonchalant. Trying so, so hard. All while clearly trying to force out whatever information she’s looking for. He doesn’t even let that nonsense simmer for a second.

“Please get away from me, Sakura.” He’s zoned back in to what he was doing before his brain flooded.

“Okay,” Sakura says hesitantly, “but if this is about the director-”

“I want to be alone right now.” The magic words tumble from his mouth with how fast he says them. He looks up at Sakura with a smile as if that’ll make her feel better. Sakura acknowledges the words begrudgingly, frustration mixing with the worry on her face. She hesitates before leaving but ultimately does.

Soobin sighs, but his body remains stiff. He refreshes the page. A text notification makes him jump, but his tension snaps right back in place once he sees it’s from Yeonjun.

Daniel Choi Yeonjun who else is going to buy a round for everyone tonight if ur not coming? ;(

His fingers dance across the screen typing a strongly worded no, and for Yeonjun to leave him the fuck alone, but his fingers freeze mid sentence. Everytime he goes to finish, his brain screams counterpoints that make his response feel wrong.

You’re going to pass up on a party to sit at home alone all day?

He casts a glance around his living room. He clears his throat, subtly checking if it’s still as echoey as last time, as if anything’s changed. He saved this room for last when decorating. He vaguely remembers the excitement he had to decorate. The embers of happiness still flicker, but fail to keep him warm. Four years later and he only has a tv and couch.

Soobin I’m not buying rounds for the whole party

Daniel Choi Yeonjun why not???

Soobin why don’t you buy drinks for everyone?

Daniel Choi Yeonjun bc thats a lot of fuckin money

“Hah.” He laughed dryly to himself. Yeonjun’s career has been chugging full steam ahead since 2014 with no sign of stopping. He's a great performer, but his sex appeal alone could’ve gotten him at least this far and he didn’t even start ripping his shirt off until 2017. He had more than enough money to have food delivered to the whole block and not even flinch.

Soobin I’ll pass, thanks

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Soobin’s deep breath does nothing to prepare him for Sakura. He can hear her practically tap dancing on the other side of his door. The corners of his mouth twitch into an amused smirk that he wipes away quickly, conditioned by Sakura’s offended expression he knows too well. He clears his throat and opens the door.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? Ignore what the director said.” The words stumble off Sakura’s tongue and she steps in, reaching for Soobin. The last time she used unnecessary physical contact he threatened to request a new manager. Though right now he’s close to letting it fly because of how hilarious she is when she’s like this. She looks bug eyed and anxious like she does every time the director has notes. “Are you reading hate comments? Reading texts from Jini?” Her eyes drop down the phone in his hand.

“Why do you keep asking about Jini?” Soobin can’t help cackling, none of Sakura’s high anxiety rubbing off on him. Sakura wets her chapped lips, which ironically leads to her lips staying as cracked as they usually are. She glances into the hallway before swinging the door shut and looking back at him with a cautionary look in her eye.

“Did you really like her? I mean, we warned you–”

“PFFT-!” Soobin fails at stopping the onslaught of pure belly laughter that rocks his body. Just when he thinks he’ll stop to let Sakura get a word in, another viscous wave whips from his lungs and sends him curling over. His crazed laughter makes his stomach ache but he can’t stop. Soobin attempts to stand as Sakura’s worry turns to frustration. He falls to the floor, curled like a shrimp as the laughter slowly dies down.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny. I want you to keep this upbeat energy when–”

“I CAN’T BREATHE!” Soobin has been reduced to tentative whimpers that threaten to send him back into hysterics.

“Listen.” She snaps sternly, catching Soobin off guard. “Does this lady look familiar?” She faces the phone toward him. Soobin exhales heavily as he stands again. He recognizes the face but can’t place the name. He swipes his phone from the ground, remembering that face from a photo on Yeonjun’s Instagram. He taps on your username, scrolling through all your strange feed with pictures that lack the usual extravagance of someone as famous as you. Distracted by his phone again, he says your name questioningly.

“What about her?”

After a lengthy sigh and arms outstretched as if to stabilize herself, Sakura is back to normal. “She’s onto the recording stage of her first full album.” Unfortunately, normal for her is annoying for Soobin.

“Yeah? Am I featuring on it?” He asks impatiently. She’s not supposed to be here this long. Pep talk, discuss the director’s notes, deliver news, make it snappy so the talent can have alone time. Soobin wrinkles his nose at the fifth picture of you in the same puke green cardigan.

“No, more than that.” Sakura says, her tone sneaky. Soobin drops his phone away from his face. His attention is now fully on her and it’s not to be a smart ass. He clenches his phone, trying not to expose what he’s concerned about. If she finds out how much he dreads another publicity stunt, she might accuse him of liking Jini again.

“It’s more like a duet than a feature. It’s a love song sung equally to each other. Think… “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”. It’s even upbeat like that song, I know how much you hate slow ones.” Sakura is in full on pitch mode, the one that hasn’t worked in the past four years.

“I never said I didn’t like slow songs…” His label scrapped every slow song for his upcoming project as a bandaid for his current cold streak. They never actually listen, just throw money or half-assed solutions said with flowery language.

“Please pay attention.” Sakura says, as if threatening him with her anxiety coming back, completely unaware that he prefers it. “You have to get to know her to get on that song.” She drives her finger into her palm to emphasize the last four words.

“Why do I have to get to know her? Just have my people reach out to her people–” Soobin feels like ice was dumped down his back as the realization hits him. He tosses his phone behind him, not even checking if it landed on the couch. He’s quick to protest before she could even pitch it.

“No! Absolutely not!”

“You have to! –” Sakura nearly dives to grab Soobin before he slides away.

“Did she already agree to it? Tell her to forget about it, I’m not fucking doing that again.” Soobin shakes his head furiously, upset by even the thought of going through this all over again.

“We…” Sakura sighs, this time he could hear the stress seeping into her body. “We didn’t tell her because… we don’t plan on telling her. We have no choice! She only makes music based on real passion and emotion–” She attempts to rush it out, desperate despite knowing he’s going to immediately decline.

“What the fuck?! Are you guys crazy?! No way in hell I’m doing that!” Soobin has made peace with the fact that he’s just not doing this, made evident by the fact he’s not even putting energy into his response.

“Look, if it’s Jini’s sex appeal that you liked…” Sakura looks down at the photo of you, reacting loudly in disappointment, “we can find women to scratch that itch behind the scenes. As maaaany as you’d like!” Sakura presents the offer like she just offered him the garden of Eden, and not women paid to suck his dick.

“I don’t give a fuck about Jini’s sex appeal.” Soobin deadpans.

“Well then what did you like about her?!” Sakura’s arms slam down at her sides exasperatedly. He can see that rope oh-so close to snapping. It’s not his problem, though, and he’s about to watch his favorite show as soon as she leaves. Soobin walks closer to Sakura with a shit-eating grin, ready to nip this in the bud.

“There was no part of Jini I enjoyed perceiving. Tell that to your bosses, too.” Soobin snickers, walking to grab his phone.

This has Sakura inhaling until her chest is fully puffed out before exclaiming, “When are you going to stop being a fucking brat?! Do you not realize you’re about to be kicked from the label?! Wake the fuck up and treat this like a job for once instead of throwing tantrums like a man child!”

Soobin is stunned into silence, staring at a heaving Sakura like a deer caught in headlights. He considers the threat. His company was shilling out money to him in order to keep morale high, but it’s been too long since he’s made money to pay that back. Of course he’s on thin ice. He has nightmares about that dreaded meeting once a week.

“She said she’s thinking of trashing the track unless she can find someone she has chemistry with in the booth or in real life. There will be artists lined up who can deliver on the temporary chemistry.”

Just a drop of dread stirs in his chest as he weighs his options. He could… start acting. He could make YouTube videos or TikToks. He could start some sort of brand. He’d even consider a sex tape before this because it’s a bad fucking idea. Jini doesn’t have the most spotless reputation but even their “breakup” got people speculating if Soobin was a shitty boyfriend and person. If you, someone he’s only heard annoying praise about, released a song detailing his deceit and your heartbreak, he’d be finished.

Either way, if he goes through another fake relationship he thinks he may quit once and for all.

Sakura groans through a sigh at his stunned silence.

“Despite what you might think, I know you. So I didn’t want to even tell you this unless shit got dire.” Sakura’s serious tone with the remorse in her eyes makes Soobin wish she was trying too hard to be cool again.

“Since you refuse to cooperate, the CEO said the only other way for you not to be kicked out and blacklisted to hell is if you marry his daughter. You heard me right. You’ll be buying the ring, and Mr. Cheon will be expecting nothing less than the best for his daughter’s proposal. So get ready to save money on the best venue you can find. And that’s all before the wedding.” Sakura’s remorse turns bitter as she narrows her eyes at him. The dread has now spread, constricting his chest painful as his hairline starts to perspire. He wipes at it angrily, glaring at his manager. She’s fought well throughout his whole career, but it’s clear now she’s done.

Soobin glances clambers frantically for his phone, opening the app and refreshing.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

“Drinks for everybody!” Yeonjun shouts as Soobin hands his credit card to the bartender. People flock over, ordering from the top shelf and glancing at him cheekily as if he’ll find it funny. He’s not sure whose party this is, but they’ve got a beautiful bar and nice big room for entertaining guests. The bartender hands back his card with an eye-crinkling smirk. Soobin returns it as he yanks his card from his hand.

Soobin declines a call for the fifteenth time since he took his card back. He checks the number, refreshes, checks again. The caller has resorted to texting which he quickly dismisses, as they block his view. The notification that drops down is nearly swept away before Soobin’s thumb freezes. He clicks the notification, eyeing your username at the top of his notifications tab.

His phone dings, indicating another.

___: Hi!! Omg I’m so excited that you fol…

Soobin quickly taps the message just as it recedes and is replaced by another call. He curses under his breath as the timer on the call ticks away. He hesitantly brings it up to his ear.

“Soobin?? Hello?”

“Heeey girl! How are you doing?” He says with unconvincing casualty.

“Don’t hey girl me! What are you doing right now?” She pauses, clearly hearing the blaring music. “Are you at a party?! I thought we agreed we were taking a break from those!”

“I’m fine! I’m a grown man!” He argues back.

“What part of being a grown man has to do with your spending habits? Why don’t you just go home early-”

“What? No. I’m already here, I already spent the money.”

“Yeah? And am I to believe Daniel Choi isn’t going to cart you and a group of people out to a second location that will have you spending more money?”

Soobin halts his response. How the hell did she know Yeonjun was here?

“Yeonjun isn’t even here.”

“Is that right?” Her tone illustrates very plainly that she doesn’t believe him, so he doesn’t even respond.

“Well, I’ll just trust you to make the right choice. Goodnight, Soobin.”

She hangs up before he can respond. He sighs, hoping he can keep that promise. But five shots later, he’s in Yeonjun’s Rolls Royce Phantom, speeding toward a casino. The place offering winnings none of them need, even the most beggarish among them. He blasts his own music in the car, giving Soobin a headache.

He looks to his left then his right, finding people whose public persona differs greatly from what he’s seen. And that’s just counting today. Sunmi catches him staring, a half smile forming on her face. She slides her hand on his thigh with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. This is a woman he developed a crush on at seven years old. Teenage him would be absolutely elated right now. However, he could feel the heat in his stomach snuff out as fast as it was ignited.

The idea of being around celebrities hasn’t been shiny and appealing for years now. They all just talk about the same shit and do the same shit. The shit in question never being going for a bike ride or playing video games. It’s always this.

Yeonjun goes straight for the poker table, most of his lackeys following behind. Their pupils are dilated, eyelids cracked so far open you’d think they’re taped back. Soobin searches for another drink, ending up at the bar.

“Aw… why are you sulking, Binnie?” The bartender slides him his usual order. There’s not even enough noise to drown out his thoughts. Either Yeonjun had the building hurriedly cleaned out just before he got here or he planned to rent out the floor in advance. The latter pisses him off, considering he’s told Yeonjun so many times he’s watching his spending and he never briefs Soobin on plans such as this.

“Not in a partying mood.”

“Not in a spending mood?” Baekho cracks a brow, which Soobin glances at. He doesn’t answer. What’s the point of even saying it now?

“Look, all your drinks are on me today okay.” Baekho reaches over the bar to pat Soobin’s shoulder.

“Very funny.” Whenever Yeonjun buys out the floor, the casino includes all drinks in the price. Baekho looks proud of his joke, patting Soobin’s shoulder twice more.

His financial manager would be proud, as he did end up slipping away early. It was depressing, though. Leaving the lively building into the stormy night. He sits just outside where he’s sheltered from the rain. He slips out his phone, thumb hovering over his bank app. Instead he opens Instagram, finally opening your DM.

___: Hi!! Omg I’m so excited that you followed me back! I’m a huge fan.

Soobin cracks a crooked smile, narrowing his eyes at his screen.

page.soobin: ur a big fan of me? thats… surprising

He lingers outside, inhaling the scent of wet pavement as the rain slowly starts to clear up. He looks out into the many lights littering the horizon as he waits for you to answer. After what feels like too long for you not to have seen it, he looks at his screen.

3 am… of course you haven’t answered.

He orders an uber, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Hearing Sakura’s signature knock actually strikes a little fear in him for the first time. She’s come far too frequently in the past few weeks, badgering him for an answer. Thankfully he’s up this early, or– thankfully he never went to sleep. He checks the time, 7 am. Just then, a notification from you pops up. Eugh, an early riser.

___: Of course! I’ve been following you since you were in Naekkeo Crew

Your response catches him so off guard he forgets Sakura is outside until she knocks again.

“Coming.” He shouts, hurrying to the door. She rushes in, looking sweaty.

“The director wants you to arrange a meeting with his daughter ASAP.” She says, out of breath.

“What?! But I still haven’t–”

“Thursday is her favorite day. Her favorite color is emerald and it has to be that specific hue of green or else she’ll be too disgusted to speak with you. Also, her birth year is the year of the rabbit so she expects a pet rabbit upon meeting her. A pure, expensive breed. But not harlequins because they’re ugly.”

“What? What– Sakura. Sakura, please, this doesn’t make sense.” Soobin reaches out for her, grabbing both of her arms and looking at her with pleading eyes.

“You’re taking too long.” She yanks her arms away, shaking her head. “I can’t help you anymore.”

“Just give me a chance–”

“We gave you a chance.”

“There’s still time!”

“It’s too late.”

“It’s not.” Soobin says sternly, holding his hands up for her to just give him a minute.

“What makes you say that?” Sakura pauses, intrigued by the look on her face. Soobin grabs his phone, looking at the DM again. Despite rereading the message a few more times, the words refuse to soak in. Naekkeo Crew… he hasn’t heard that name in years. His eyes demagnetize from the screen and he remembers where he is, what’s at stake.

He faces the phone toward her. Sakura’s face slowly melts into insidious excitement.

“Yes… Yes! This is perfect. Oh, Soobin!” She bounces in excitement. Soobin can’t bring himself to celebrate, but this is good. Well, it’s not. But it is! Soobin exhales through pursed lips. What’s good for now is that he doesn’t have to meet with Tsuki.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

page.soobin: is that so? wow, you really are a big fan then

___: Yeah, haha. Sorry if it was weird how I reached out. I just thought I’d let you know.

Soobin’s head thuds against the back of his couch. If he does neither, gets kicked out, is that really the end of the world? He could look for another agency, he wasn’t a big fan of this one anyway. Most of them probably suck for the same reasons, though, and he probably wouldn’t figure it out until he was already locked into a contract. And what if they’re not bluffing about blacklisting him? He could go independent, reach back out to Taehyun for help. But then he’d have to admit Taehyun was right.

His head is starting to hurt just thinking about leaving Pacific. He cracks his fingers one by one as he stares at nothing, letting his brain chug.

He could give up and move back in with his parents. His hands grasp blindly for his phone.

page.soobin: not at all, I find myself kinda intrigued by you to be honest

___: You? Intrigued by me??

page.soobin: ya… I mean you are the person with 16 Grammys?

___: Yeah, but you’re Soobin. I mean, if you called me by just my first name people wouldn’t know who you were talking about. But all you need to say is “Soobin” and BOOM. People think of Sutures or Goodwill or Nothin’ Can Stop Me.

The corner of Soobin’s mouth quirks up.

___: Even if someone doesn’t know your face or your name, they probably know your music.

page.soobin: didn’t you write like a shit ton of big songs?

___: No one knows they’re my songs. They’re a Chuu song, or a Taeyeon song, or a Jini song.

___: oh shit sorry

page.soobin: it’s fine, she’s a huge star and you guys have a history of sorts. it makes sense why you brought her up lol

Your embarrassingly quick response time halts suddenly. You’re probably banging your head against a wall or something, so it looks like he’ll have to take the reins again.

page.soobin: a lot of artists owe some of their success to you, you should be proud

___: Believe me, I am. It still shocks me every day that my work is this appreciated and praised

Soobin finds himself cringing. He can hear the way you said that, something about it feels so pompous.

page.soobin: what are you, giving an acceptance speech

___: ??? 😭😭😭

page.soobin: nvm, are you working on something new?

___: Oh! I’m surprised you haven’t heard.

He drops his phone into his lap in favor of running his hands over his face. His leg bounces as annoyance crawls under his skin and sinks into his flesh. He just can’t help this feeling you give him. It started when a meeting about him was derailed because they couldn’t stop gushing about the genius of that “young writer-slash-producer on the scene”. Back then most people didn’t know what you looked like, it wasn't just Soobin.

You’re absolutely correct with your analysis of your fame. Maybe some people know you by name but no one in their right mind would describe you as a household name. Hell, if someone posted you to stan twitter they’d probably ask who’s manager you were. But he can feel it. Not that he’s an expert, everyone can feel it. The aura surrounding you, your name, your work. It started to spark when a demo you made for Jini was leaked. It ignited when you started releasing your own music. Everyone is starting to feel the heat from your growing flame.

___: My manager said he’d put word out for any male singers interested in a duet track. I thought that was a crazy thing to do instead of just asking people I know. I expected maybe one or two, then I’m having these mega famous singers approach me at parties and events. Nearly everywhere I go, if celebrities are there, a different person is requesting to feature on the track.

Biting at his cuticles, Soobin debates on whether your block of text is more annoying or worrying.

page.soobin: that’s crazy! it’s ALL crazy famous people? no small artists at all?

___: It feels weird saying it… but I’m always surrounded by big people talking about my next project. I don’t think smaller artists could even find an opening to do so.

God, no one told him this. Or he just doesn’t remember… Either way, they didn’t explain how dire the situation is now. He’s gotta move fast. There’s no way he’s the only famous asshole attempting to manipulate you.

The DMs have halted because of some volunteer thing you do every Wednesday. Rolling his eyes again would be redundant, so instead he rested them. Not before leaving his number for you.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Soobin blinks a few times, trying to blink the inky darkness away. He sits up, feeling as though he’s swimming with the lack of light. He eventually finds his phone and uses the flashlight to navigate to the blinds. Opening them offers no surprising information. He’s wide awake at the dead of night again. Having a concrete objective is helpful, but not when the girl he's seducing races the sun to bed.

Okay… getting to know you isn’t the only thing he has to get done. As soon as he attempts to list them his mind goes blank. He tries again, just for a hazy image of his bank account slowly draining distracts him. No, he has to focus. Third time’s the charm, he thinks. He prays. He has to…

Just then, the thought of a balance so low that only cents are dwindling away shakes him. It’s so vivid that he almost convinces himself it’s real. Checking won’t hurt, he feels like he’ll pass out if he doesn’t check. His trembling thumbs hovers over the screen as the app loads for what feels like hours.

Upon the app finally loading, the dreadful feeling refuses to go away. His account looks normal like always. Maybe not what one expects from someone with a net worth of forty million, but it’s perfectly fine. His heart, though, continues to hammer against his chest almost painfully. And his stomach continues this falling sensation, it all makes him want to throw up. He sits back on his couch, looking into the abyss of his half-empty, dim living room.

Just around the time his brain goes pleasantly numb, his phone vibrates in his hand. Judging by the custom vibration, it’s a text. Are you awake at this hour? He flips his phone over and taps the screen.

Daniel Choi Yeonjun u up?

“Tch,”

So much for taking a break from partying.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Soobin glances at Yeonjun’s message as if it will help his decision. Forget about which color he should wear, is he actually going to this? He’s still confused about whether his lack of sex recently was a conscious decision or out of fear of the truth.

He eyes the dark blue shirt in his left hand, and the orange shirt in his right. No matter how many times he’s tried it, orange is tempting… but dark blue is what’s sure to get him off. Plus, dark blue is his color. Despite his reasoning, he debates the entire journey there if it was the correct choice. Soobin checks the shirt of Yeonjun who’s next to him as he enters the house. He can’t remember what light blue was or if it was even one of the options. They’re here now, so it doesn’t matter. He clears his throat, straightening out his shirt as they stand within the crowd in front of a platform.

A house this obnoxious could only belong to one person. There are no normal lights, just shifting hues of blue and purple. Soobin wonders if that defeats the purpose of colored shirts if lights alter the hues, then gets distracted by fog pooling around everyone else’s feet. Others seem to notice too, reacting gleefully like children. Hopefully they’re just excited, because no one with their net worth should be impressed by something so basic.

“Hello everybody!” Jackson Wang shouts, snapping everyone’s attention to him in an instant. Cheers erupt from the crowd as he grips the mic stand, giving everyone an intense stare as if he’s about to perform. Perform, he does. Nearly at every event he hosts his aura is so contagious and not for lack of trying. Even Soobin is feeling goosebumps erupt over his skin in anticipation.

“I’m so happy to see so many familiar faces. Some we haven’t seen in a while, some we see every time.” His pointed gaze turns in Soobin's direction. He immediately feels guilty for something he didn’t do. He’s never been to one of these, with the shit he gets up to he might as well have but the point still stands.

“Daniel Choi everybody!!” He draws out the end of the word as Yeonjun pumps his fists triumphantly. Featured prominently among the cheering are distinctly women’s shrieks of joy.

“Before we get to the fun–” The crowd is filled with playful aw’s and boo’s before Jackson brings them back down, “I know, I know! But I know some of you already forgot the colors and what they mean. I mean, how else are you gonna find your corresponding playmate?” The crowd laughs at his… joke? No doubt everyone is so ready to rip their clothes off that they’re giggly. Soobin even finds himself laughing. Jackson pulls out a laminated sheet of paper as he waits for it to die down.

“First off, anyone in white is an exhibitionist. You’ll be looking for anyone dressed in black, those are your voyeurs. White shirts can either have fun by themselves or grab another exhib to join the fun. Remember, you won’t be able to see the voyeur, but they are watching.” He explains that they each have designated rooms with a door that is their assigned color as the crowd chatters gleefully.

“Green is for costumes and roleplay. So greens, if you stumble into a random room and there’s a huge costume chest? You don’t need to check, that’s your room. Now, all my beautiful people in red? If you see someone in dark blue, that’s your dom.” He explains like a camp counsellor briefing campers on safe sex. Soobin casts a curious glance, able to spot some with a bright enough red, but others are hard to see. Judging by the confused looks on other people’s faces, they feel the same. “Don’t worry, the lights will come up in a second.” Jackson assures, mumbling afterwards about skipping the colored lights next time. That seems to satisfy everyone else, but Soobin is still looking around. No one is really catching his eye. He picks his cuticles, preparing in advance for a poor performance.

“Our next colors are orange and light blue. If you’re in orange, you’re a dude looking for two ladies or a lady looking for another lady and a dude. Our light blues switch it up with an MMF threesome. So if you’re looking for a little sausage party, search for your fellow light blues. The real party animals are in yellow, and for you guys? The orgy starts in twenty minutes.” He points out everyone in yellow, each person beaming with pride in response. “We used to do the kink and off-limits wristbands, but you guys are adults. Talk to each other.” He unzips his brown jacket slowly, holding his playful reproach with the crowd. With a quick motion he fully opens his jacket, revealing his yellow shirt like it’s Superman’s S to rapturous cheers.

The lights come up as Jackson hops from the platform, being consumed into the crowd. Soobin glances at Yeonjun’s light blue shirt and back up at him cautiously.

“Why did you invite me to this again?” Yeonjun doesn’t invite Soobin to anything without an ulterior motive. People sort of associate them with each other. This led to them being frequent collaborators or invited in tandem to events and television appearances. You’d think they were bandmates or something, but no. In reality, they were discovered in similar ways, got famous around the same time, and have similar audiences. Now people assume they’re best friends, which is another reason Soobin assumes Yeonjun carts him around. Their “close bond” is a big part of both of their brands. Even if Soobin didn’t hate his guts, he still wouldn’t have sex with him, though.

“Don’t worry, buddy, I don’t want to have sex with you. I brought you because Nayeon wouldn’t come without her plus one, and her plus one wouldn’t come unless someone hot was guaranteed to be here.” Yeonjun barely pays attention to Soobin as he explains why he’s here, instead craning his head to look for someone. That someone is unsurprisingly Nayeon, who approaches in a skin tight, light blue polo dress. The strands of hair framing her face fall away as she angles her head back to smile at Yeonjun. Once she’s close enough, she toys with the buttons of his polo shirt.

“I was looking for you…” She pouts, plucking one open, then two, “Have you picked someone?” Her eyes wander to Soobin, starting at his crotch and crawling up to his face. Oof, Yeonjun at least picked someone good. She eye fucks him once she realizes who he is. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, taking his turn to check out her body. The way she pokes out her ass is so deliciously self aware. She seemingly notices his shirt color at that moment, gasping excitedly.

“Jihyo! Jihyo, get over here!” She looks over her shoulder, flailing her hand that’s not grasping Yeonjun’s shirt in that direction. From behind a small group emerges, surely enough, Park Jihyo. Who better to pair up with two loosely associated soloists than two rightfully associated ones. Childhood friends turned pop stars. Despite being older, Jihyo and Nayeon are newer to the scene. Solely due to not being shoved into the spotlight as teens like Soobin and Yeonjun.

Soobin can’t help noticing that her shirt is warping to… compensate, and that it’s dark blue. Yeonjun snorts, causing Nayeon to laugh.

“He’s the plus one. What do you think?” Nayeon feigns curiosity, tapping her chin. Jihyo copies her friend, crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

“I dunno,” She reaches over and pinches his bicep. Soobin allows it, watching her amusedly. “could be bigger.” She shrugs, sizing him up, offering a challenge.

“You haven’t seen big yet.” Soobin smirks, eyes slowly raking down to her chest. “Or maybe you have.”

Jihyo’s jaw drops, looking shocked but impressed. “So the rumors are true?” She shimmies her skirt higher, eyes lingering on his crotch. He doesn’t miss how they flit towards his shirt.

“Looks like one of us has to change.” Soobin closes in on her, enjoying the way her eyes become so doll-like as she looks up at him.

Back in one of the bedrooms, the two of them strip each other’s shirts off through a blur of lips and tongues. Without their shirts, there are no more explicit labels signaling how they want to be seen. Just what they have to show for it. They pull apart to grin at each other, kneeling on the bed and waiting for the other to strike.

Soobin takes the opportunity to examine her in just her skirt. He guesses he’s attracted to her. She’s attractive, and her breasts are fucking phenomenal. But…

He sighs as he feels the arousal slowly drain from his body.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes stay trained on her breasts, refusing to meet her eyes. In doing so a lightbulb turns on in his brain. He pushes her down to the bed, ordering her to hold her legs up. Both his hands latch onto her breasts to squeeze and massage until he gets hard. Noticing her start to get impatient, he leans down to swirl his tongue over her nipple. A contented sigh floats from her mouth as her hands smooth over her legs. He reaches down, expecting to push her panties to the side, but feels nothing but her warm mound. She gasps lightly and he almost looks up at her. That should get him riled up… it should.

“Get that pussy nice and wet for me.” He brings his middle finger up to his lips and licks a salacious stripe up the digit. Still focusing on her boobs means he can’t see her face, but he feels her body melt. He uses his finger to massage her lips, pushing in slightly to rub her clit. He hears her head hit the pillows.

He’s not off the hook for overthinking yet. Minutes into thrusting into her his brain floats away from the situation. He clenches his eyes shut, trying to think about how naughty he’s being. He came to a sex party, is sleeping with a stranger. She wasn’t wearing a bra or any underwear. He saw her tits and her pussy. This is lewd, it’s nasty, it’s not just is cock pushing in and out of a meaningless wet pocket.

Manifesting does nothing. He does feel like his useless organ is going in and out of her useless organ. He tries to focus on how tight it is, the warmth–

“You’re so fucking big!” She purrs as she rakes her nails down his torso. Nope. Definitely not.

He sighs, quietly this time. Thankfully her eyes are screwed shut or she’d see how out of it he is.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Daniel Choi Yeonjun where tf are u? jihyo’s looking 4 u

Soobin immediately squashes the guilt that crops up. He made her cum, there are plenty of people there for her to screw. He doesn’t owe her anything, and he definitely doesn’t owe Yeonjun anything. Luckily he drove here so he didn’t have to tuck his tail between his legs, waiting outside for his uber like a lost dog. And luckily he’s out of there. He should’ve known better. His financial manager was right, no more parties for good.

He glances at his watch as he steps through the door.

2:13 am

He was only there for an hour? He tosses his phone on the couch with a groan. He sets his keys in the dish by the door and kicks his shoes off. So much for killing time. He stares at his empty living room, waiting for the feeling in the pit of his stomach to go away.

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Hours of Sword Art Online seems to have done its job. His eyes slowly crack open only to be immediately blinded. The sliver of sun between his bedroom curtains singes his eyes. He blocks it with his hand, sitting up in his bed. His text tone sounds and he rubs his hands over his face. Probably Yeonjun bitching about him leaving ruining Yeonjun’s night and yada yada yada.

He grabs his phone anyway, realizing it could be you. A nagging red bubble reading 1,806 hovers above the Messages app just to mock him.

Lee Sunmi: Attachment: 1 Image Yoon Bomi: I think so Kim Doyoung: Website: TikTok • Tony St… Choi Yena: off to the airport <3 YooA Siah: Will I see you in Soho 👀 Daniel Choi Yeonjun: nayeon left early yesterday because… Kang Hyewon: don’t worry about it~ +6045559608: … were you interested? +0108273555: is this soobin?? Hani Heeyeon: Hey! How’s it going?

God, he should hire someone to clean out his messages. He only really talks to three people here. One of these unknown numbers must be you. He tries the first one.

+6045559608: Hey! This is ___.

+6045559608: Remember that duet song I told you about?

+6045559608: … were you interested?

Soobin tosses the covers off of him, sliding to the edge of the bed. This is it! Man, the one time Sakura isn’t banging on his door. All he’d have to do is show her this and he would be golden. He can’t fuck this up. God, he has to keep up the lie that he had no clue about it beforehand, too. He threads his hands through his hair and stares at his feet.

Think, fucking think.

“Fuck it.”

Soobin: How about we meet up?

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

That hue of green is still horrendous through the tint of his sunglasses. You watch confusedly as lowers and raises his sunglasses over and over, debating which version is uglier. You clear your throat.

“Um, about the song, I know it’s weird but I don’t want to record right away.” The tired drone in your voice indicates that you’ve gotten shit for sticking to your guns. “I want to really have that depth behind the song, especially because whoever I choose will write their own verse. I don’t want this to be another soulless cash grab with a throwaway verse, sung by me and someone I chose based on fame alone.” You rush out your explanation before he could pretend to be confused.

Soobin snorts, peering at you over the frame of his sunglasses, “Like Agassi?”

You sputter, outstretching your arms like the gesture will stop the anger you assume he’s feeling. Your face this entire time has been laughably sincere. There is no room for a manufactured image. Your earnest eyes and anxious lip bite make sure of that.

“No, no, no! That’s a cute song, really.” You assure him. He quirks up an eyebrow.

“Cute?”

“Well…” You shrug. Of course miss writer-producer extraordinaire is an expert on good music.

“Well what?” He asks, amused as he crosses his arms and reclines in the uncomfortable plastic stool. You sip your coffee, your eyes landing on anything but him.

“It’s… a little empty. But it’s pleasant! And catchy!” You snap on that last descriptor, pointing at him like that drives the “compliment” home. He scoffs, eyes drawn to your cardigan again.

“I was on your Insta… you wear that cardigan a lot.” He over-enunciates the “a lot” to a very petty degree. It’s your turn to scoff. You tongue your cheek, your head drops down for a moment. When you look back up you look worryingly somber.

“It’s um… it’s actually my late mother’s.” You croak out, facing the ceiling to prevent tears from spilling. The smugness is ripped straight from Soobin’s body and dread is shoved in its place. What has he done?! This time he’s reaching out to you.

“Really? I’m so sorry–”

“Nope!” You drop your head back down to face him, a shit eating grin gracing your features. Soobin sucks his teeth, lamenting over his wasted alarm. You chuckle, your shoulders bouncing. He can’t help but laugh as well. You insult one of his biggest songs and baits him into guilt all in one sitting. Most people he meets wouldn’t dare. Especially fans.

“I made this with my own blood sweat and tears, baby.” You kiss the sleeve of it like it’s a trophy.

“You made it?” He leans forward, incredulity and a little disgust evident on his face.

“If you spent months making something, you’d wear it all the time too.” You raise your mug toward him before knocking it back.

“So you chose that color?

You look down at it, still swallowing coffee. “Yeah?”

“You chose to make a puke green cardigan?” He says, exasperated with your logic.

“Pu–! This is olive green.” You change your voice when you say it as if it’ll encourage him to see it. When met with an unconvinced expression, you change the subject.

“Look. I’m not looking to get married. I just need the person to sit with me to make a truly cohesive and compelling track.” You explain confidently, your raised eyebrows seemingly asking if he’s game or not. If he’s honest, you’re still very much annoying, but you’re more down to Earth than he expected. Though, if he asked you about it, you’d probably say it was because of yoga or something. He grits his teeth.

“Tell me more about the song.”

0:00 ───|────── 0:00

Soobin shuts his eyes as he laughs along with you. He cracks one open just to monitor you a little more. He’s pretty sure he’s in. Not only were you a fan of Naekkeo Crew, but you only followed them for him.

“It’s fitting he’s a horrible YouTuber now. I understand he was a kid back then, but I was too. Beomgyu was so fucking annoying.” You cover your mouth, lowering your volume as you drop the curse word. It takes everything in Soobin not to react in exaggerated shock at your no-no word.

“Oh he was annoying in real life, too. He wasn’t that much younger than me but he made me feel mature.”

You settle, smacking your lips as you reminisce. “Mark Tuan is doing his musical thing I guess, but what about Jay? Jihoon? Do you keep up with any of them?”

“God no.” Soobin is not even sorry for crushing your dreams so quickly, but he doesn’t even like the thought of keeping up with them.

“I don’t blame you.”

Your words catch him off guard, looking up to see your expression matches his own contempt.

“I don’t know much about what happened in reality, but it just seemed like they were so cruel to you.”

“Cruel?” Soobin cringes at the perception of him.

“Maybe cruel is a strong word. They always played mean spirited pranks on you and they’d make fun of you for not being meatheads like them. I don’t know… I just felt like they always singled you out.” You look down at your coffee, most likely because of the intense expression on Soobin’s face. Once he realizes, he squeezes his eyes shut.

“The other fans found it funny, but I always hated it. So yeah, I wouldn’t contact them either.” You laugh awkwardly. “Sorry, I–”

“Don’t apologize.” He assures. “They did suck.” He narrows his eyes, trying to get a new read on you. All he finds are big, hopeful eyes and a soft smile. No one’s ever told him that before. You break eye contact to glance at your tiny watch, held in place by a skinny brown band.

“Oh! I’ve got to go, but this was really fun.” You smile, and he catches that earnestness in your eyes again. The kind he doesn’t see in many people who speak to him. “I was hoping to see you again? On a Monday?” You turn slightly, a cheeky look on your face as you reference the busy schedule you briefed him on earlier.

He tilts his head down to hide his triumphant smile, quickly wiping it away before facing you again. “Sounds perfect.”

“Really? Do you have any plans for this coming Monday?” You say as you pack your purse back up. Bold of you to assume he has a packed schedule. He’ll be either rotting in bed or staring at the wall in his living room.

“Schedule’s all clear.” He gives you a pressed smile.

txt masterlist

mosquito masterlist

#100 #txt #smut #kpop smut #soobin #choi soobin #soobin smut #x reader #txt smut #female reader #afab reader

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floofeh-purpi · 3 months

Text

Getting Isekai'd?! (Part 4)

Sagau! Genshin Fatui x Gn! Reader (ft. Your bsf)

『Beloved fluffball/s mentioned below! 💜』

@justmare @mc-cos-charm

YEY NEW FLUFFBALL, HIII!!!

☆

Sidenote: CUS ITS BEEN RAINING IN MAINLA HINDI KABA NILALAMIG?! (Song reference lol) 😫

Warnings: Cursing, grammatical/spelling errors, my delulu-ahh brain forgot to write english isnt my first language and im too lazy to edit the other warnings again, me probably switching the povs alot because... yeah, filipino reader maybe speaking tagalog and bisaya, mentions of you having a wound on one of your feet, blood, author's shitty attempts at making you laugh.

【Part 3】

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

You eventually woke up from your nap coma with a sore ass throat and a somehow still fully batteried phone. "Ok, how the fuck is my phone still 100%?! 😰 But atleast I dont have to wait 2 hours to charge my phone lmao." You mused out inside your head cus you'd say it out loud ur throat would even more sore than it already fucking is.

"I should've bought a water bottle with me earlier... ☹" You thought as you putted your phone inside one of the pockets of your pajamas and slowly went downstairs and went to the kitchen.

You sneaked into the kitchen undetected by guests. Because all you wanted to do right now was sleep again rest. Anygays, you gobbled the entire glass of water within one go and putted the glass into the sink. "Nah, y/b/f/n's gonna wash them dishes today lmao." You thought before you plugged your earphones into your phone and listened to your playlist while humming softly to the song before going upstairs.

☆

The harbingers heard someone humming in where they assumed is the kitchen before someone passed by the living room still humming and with a tiny-ahh smile going upstairs. "Oh my~ Who was that beautiful person~?" Asked the Damselette. Its true though, you were the prettiest person y/b/f/n met. "That was Y/n. :)" The harbingers and the Tsaritsa's eyes widened at that name. But are still in denial because they need to confirm just one more thing. Denial, denial, denial IS a river in Eygpt 💀🙌

☆

You eeked mentally when your playlist started playing 'Good Looking by Suki Waterhouse' (Recommend listening to it 10000/10) since you dont have spotify premium and you ran out of skips. 😔

You sat down on the chair infront of your desk, which was messier than dogshit. "Omfg im too lazy to clean it up rn 😭🙌" you thought before you grabbed some paper that you totally didnt rip out from y/b/f/n's notebook like 2 days ago before yall were isekai'd and started drawing basically a city. Aka the city you lived in before this fiasco happened.

*Insert your drawing here cus I cant find anything that was close to my imagination 🥲*

After you finished drawing, you gave your arms a very well needed stretch you desperately needed that shit after sitting down with a posture looking like a fucking shrimp if you looked at what you looked like in the side for 3 fucking hours while your earphones were still playing music, "Finally done, im tired again lmao" you thought before you slept on your chair like when its math class 💔 because you were too fucking sleepy to even get out of your chair its comfier that those damned armchairs you'd sleep on during math class. 💀

But then, your foot accidentally hitted the leg of the table so fucking hard, that it caused the sleepiness in you to go *poof* "PUTANG INA NING LAMESA 👹" (Fuck this table) you yelled loud enough for only yourself to hear you held back your tendency to scream out filipino curses loud enough for the entire damn universe to hear you because... well, the people downstairs... Are downstairs...—

You felt your atoms and dna coursing inside you still shaking at the collision of your foot and the table, whats even worse is that the foot was the one that was wounded, which made the pain all the fucking worse.

"Bandages be damned. I need to fucking change these little shits. Bweshet nih. 😔" You cursed out loud as your throat wasnt as sore as earlier we call it mineral water for a reason /jk, you made your way into your bathroom while not walking normally.

♤

You were just drinking some water in kitchen peacefully, and of course your clumsy ass hand somewhat slipped and you accidentally dropped it onto the floor... and your foot. You winced at shards of bloodied glass digging into the flesh of your foot as sat on the nearest chair while y/b/f/n tended to your wound/s OHMIGASH KILIG NAKO AYIEEEEEEE!!!!!

♤ (End of flashback)

You got some bandages which were fortunately on the sink from the last time you changed your bandages and forgetting to put it back to its original place AGAIN, but you didnt give a shit rn. But as soon as you unwrapped your bandages, instead of the crimson blood you were expecting to see on your wound, the blood was... golden.

"...What the fuck?"

☆

YEY FINISHED PART 4!!! My hands are tired from holding the phone but its ok ❤

Filipino readers where u at? 😭

【Part 5】

Published: June 30 2024. 10:38pm.

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin impact #genshin x reader #random #sagau x reader #sagau genshin #genshin cult au #yandere sagau #sagau creator #fatui harbingers x reader #genshin harbingers #fatui harbingers #tsarista x reader #tsaritsa #random stuff

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ellitx · 9 months

Note

teachers day anon (that's my name now ig) : prof. venti cockwarming listener while he tutors her for her upcoming exam? this has been lingering in my mind nonstop and i just had to share this ehehe

masterlist

warnings: nsfw, teacher-student relationship, fem!reader

Venti guided your hips, lifting your skirt to reveal your lacy panties for his hungry eyes. Settling you to sit between his legs, his hard cock poked through your clothed entrance.

You sat snugly on his lap, drawing out a pleased moan as you leaned on your professor’s shoulder and delighted his ears with your sinful music. His fingers, underneath your skirt, slid your panties aside, pushing his cock inside your clenching warm wet walls.

"S-sir..." You moaned before playing the next piece of music on the piano, moving your body into his lap to rub your soaked pussy against him.

His fingers danced against your hips as he whispered, "Are you sure you'll be able to focus for your rehearsal with my cock inside you?" His calloused fingers circled to your neck and kissed you passionately. His cock filled you up, stroking it slowly as your pelvis moved up and down on his lap.

“Ah, ah, ah. I won’t let you move until you finish the piece without errors.”

It wasn’t long before his index finger snuck its way beneath your bra to find your nipples, tweaking your perked buds, pinching and twisting them that had your tummy tightening. The feeling was heavenly, especially when his hands were cupping your breasts and massaging them gently. Most likely his way to relax you (and him) after a tiring day.

“Th-that’s unfair,” you whined, letting your fingers press against the keys. The music echoed within the big empty room and you heard Venti hum approvingly from behind, carefully observing your fingers roam across from one key to another.

You were close to concluding the piece, but an ear-deafening chord ruined your music. The chair screeched and you leaned forward, your head hanging as you panted heavily.

He just did not thrust against you. You clenched your fingers so tightly restraining the urge to bounce on your professor’s dick and fuck him senseless.

It’s unfair! Why does he get away with this when his dick is practically hard as fuck, his tip pushing deeper in your womb while you’re not allowed to move?!

Venti was pinching your buds again to tease you, making you buck harder on his lap.

“What’s wrong? You have to start from the top again, [Name]. We don’t want to hear any wrong notes during your performance.”

Your pussy felt too good on his cock, how the heck is he not fazed by this? You closed your eyes tightly, your ears trying to block out the sounds distracting you.

Just finish this piece and then Venti will reward you. That’s it. That’s your main priority and you won’t let him off this time! Your pussy can take a break once the test has been finished.

Wiggling your fingers, focusing on your professor’s soothing voice guiding you toward the last note, you bit your lower lip and started over from the beginning.

Pushing your sex to go harder, hoping the tempo will make you climax soon. It didn’t help that every nerve in your body screamed at you to get off your sexy teacher. How do you think the other girls in school will react if they knew their gorgeous teacher fucked one of his students’ brains out?

With a sigh of relief, your song ended on a soft C chord and Venti removed his hands from your breasts, which ached and yearned for more attention from him.

“Can I ride you now?” You asked, your whole face covered in deep pink as you fiddled with your skirt. Venti smirked, his teal eyes glinting.

“Who am I to say no to my favorite student?”

#teachers day anon #anon ask #ellianswers #venti x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti #venti brainrot #genshin impact venti x reader

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reasaph · 1 month

Text

"I don't believe in God, but I believe that your my savior."

Soshiro Hoshina x Suicidal! Reader.

A snippet of something I'm working on.

Takes place in a hospital where they're both hospitalized at. Hoshina makes reader feel a desire to wake up everyday. Mentions of suicide ofc. No interaction between hoshina and reader yet.

TW: Swearing, suicide, kinda atheism because of the title, self destructive behavior, overall rlly depressing.

You oh so desperately wanna fuck with death. You wonder if The reaper is gentle when leading you to its chambers. The thought crosses the cocoon of your brain every time you gamble with your life on edge.

Every time a noose is slipped past the crown of your head and on the way to envelope your neck in the most lovingly way its ever been craddled. Every time you swallow those intoxicating pills which you found and deemed adorable because of its miniature size, theyre so small, perfect for the way they kill you off slowly (atleast was supposed to).

In every attempt, you wonder, will death be as beautiful as you imagined?

This time is no different.

The breeze felt nice, it was cool against your skin. The sun was shining brightly, much to your predicament. Its as if it was mocking you, screaming at your presence 'the day will not mourn you, go ahead and jump but not a soul will bat an eye or shed a tear'. Your feet carey you to the very edge, step by step. As odd as it may be, you dont wanna die on such a lovely day. It opposes the idea of your ideal and perfect suicide. You want the skies to feel as you feel. You want the clouds to heave and the horizon to dim. Your plan seems to be soiled by the tilt of earths axis just for today.

"I'll try tomorrow."

All of a sudden, the realization of how close you actually were to the edge hit you like a truck. It made you wobble and lose balance. Again, the world had other plans for you. It always does, never in your years of living has life been cooperative and actually side with you for fucking once. You learned to not care anymore, Embracing the wind as you fall, enjoying the nice breeze before your head cracks. It was warm when you hit the ground and it was oddly comforting. You could feel your eyes already dropping so you let them. You let your consciousness get taken away, you have no reason to fight anymore. You let yourself get lost, not bothering the sirens echoing in the background.

Gang, do we fw it and should I finish it? The title is inspired by the song "sailor song" by Gigi Perez!!

#soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju no.8 x reader #kn8 x reader #soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader

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e-dubbc11 · 7 months

Note

Idk if you’re taking requests for the Winter Sleepover still, but I’d LOVE a fic based on At All Costs (Demo Version) from Wish for Billy Russo x Reader PLEASE

Hello my lovely! Thank you for sending in an ask and being a part of my winter sleepover ❄️🥶 I really appreciate it. This is the final ask and I’m proud of myself that I finished them all.

So I haven’t watched the movie Wish yet but I did go and listen to the song and it is VERY Billy Russo. I had it on repeat for awhile and an idea finally popped into my brain so thank you again and I hope you like what I did here. ♥️♥️♥️

At All Costs

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, couple of swear words, and fluff

Word Count: 982

Summary: It makes you happy when Billy finally gets to sleep because he doesn’t sleep much…at all.

A/N: For the record, I get pissed when I can’t sleep at night and my husband is next to me snoring away BUT Billy doesn’t sleep so I wouldn’t be upset if he was asleep next to me and I wasn’t 🤣 I’ll link the song at the end

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

Sleep.

It eluded him on most nights, but not tonight.

Tonight, the pillow softly cradled his head while his ebony colored hair covered the pillowcase like spilled ink and his eyelids moved rapidly back and forth. His handsome face was angled toward you and skilled hands rested on his stomach as you watched his chest rise and fall delicately.

You wanted more than anything to brush the stray hairs away from his face that had tumbled into his eyes but you couldn’t risk waking him. He hardly ever looked this peaceful.

But then again, he always slept soundly after a kill. It was the only time he didn’t have nightmares.

The dark blue blanket was the backdrop for a full moon with bright stars sprinkled behind it and the sky was so clear you could see almost every single crater. No wonder you couldn’t sleep. But it was alright…because Billy was asleep.

Your love deserved a night where nightmares didn’t wake him, where he wasn’t strangled by his own screams. The nights where his eyes snapped open, his forehead was covered in a cold sweat, that made him frantic and disoriented, those were the nights where your heart would break for him and you would do anything to try and help.

“Why?” You had asked silently.

Why couldn’t he just have a decent night’s sleep?

Billy said it was because he didn’t deserve it; he was consumed with self-loathing, not worthy of the things he has now and doesn’t deserve someone like you to make him…happy.

You always reassured him that he did, that the things he has done were for the protection of others. They were for his fellow marines, his country, his clients, and for you.

Tonight, he had walked through the door just as the first sip of tea coated your throat. It warmed you from the inside as it traveled from your mouth to your stomach. Your favorite soft warm blanket was draped over your legs while the book you were reading remained open in your lap as you set your tea down on the table.

Billy had mentioned he might not see you before you went to bed tonight but you were glad you had stayed up. He wasn’t hurt badly but extra effort was needed to wash the blood from his hands.

A crack in the curtains let a sliver of light from the moon shine against the headboard, faintly illuminating Billy’s face and you remembered the story he told you earlier while helping him clean up.

“He tried to run, hide somewhere where I wouldn’t find him but he left a trail of blood from the gunshot wound. He knew he was being hunted…by me.” Billy growled.

“And I knew he would eventually run out of places to hide, he would have to stop somewhere, weak from the blood loss. When he finally stopped running, I could have just put another bullet in him but with the knife, well, it’s intimate, you gotta get close to spill the rest of their blood. It hurts more, when you slowly split the skin open. They suffer.” He said softly with an evil smile as you put a butterfly closure above his eye.

His words chilled you to the bone like a swift frost moving across a field and his unfocused eyes shined like two pieces of black ice. Billy felt guilty for loving the hunt and the kill but you knew they were all bad men.

“How can you love me, knowing what I am and what I’ve done? Knowing that I like doing it and I like watching the light leave their eyes.” He asked through gritted teeth with his face in his hands.

Moving his hands away, you tilted his face toward you so his eyes were focused on yours. “No one is gonna miss members of the mob, baby.” You whispered against his forehead before gently pressing your lips against him.

“He had your picture and when he said ‘maybe you should concentrate on protecting her rather than politicians, Russo.’ I—I just snapped.” Said Billy.

He would kill for you. He HAD killed for you. When you finally get something you’ve always wanted, you do everything you can to make sure you don’t lose it.

You hold it close, covet it, and if someone tries to take it from you…you defend it, protect it, and keep it safe. You were that something for Billy Russo; the something that he had always wanted but never could attain.

Someone to love him.

“Oh Billy…I’m really worth all of that to you?” You had asked, as tears burned the back of your eyes.

Billy pinched your chin in between his forefinger and thumb and replied, “You are EVERYTHING to me, sweet girl…I love you.” And his lips collided with yours. He kissed you hard; it was all tongue and teeth, growling against your lips and possessively nipping at your jawline.

You were his and he was yours.

Billy’s kisses left you gasping for air and after the breath that was caught in your throat was released, you whispered, “I love you too, Billy.”

A veil of silence also arrives with the night and you were very afraid any sound would cut through the quiet of your bedroom and wake him. But Billy was still in a very deep slumber as his chest continued to calmly rise and fall.

No nightmares tonight but you would continue to be there for him when he had them, reassuring him that he was alright, that you loved him, and you would always protect him too. You promised to keep him safe…at all costs.

And love you as one does

I, I will protect you at all costs

Keep you safe here in my arms

I, I will protect you at all costs

At all costs

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n #ericca answers #winter sleepover 2024

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stressedemoblackbratz · 1 year

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pretend

pairing: shuri x singer!black reader

warnings: swearing and fading relationship between reader and her boyfriend

a/n: as you can tell, i was definitely inspired by Zay’s own writing (the title has magically excused itself from my brain (i’m thinking lemonade, but i don’t wanna fuck up) my apologies, but i’m gonna blame that on finals). i loved the chapters and it inspired me to write something after a year. those euphoria requests wore me out lol. also, i don’t mention the death of anyone in this story. it didn’t happen…okay? okay! i might do a backstory to this? I’m not really sure, but we’ll see. i hope you enjoy babes!

words: 1.4k + not proofread

let's pretend we never met. a good excuse to play forget. let's pretend you never lied, so i can give it up all night, swallow my pride, and learn to forgive. when i'm looking for love i pretend it's you. a love that never ends.

the bed was cold, your lace band was on snug, and the food you cooked for your boyfriend of 2 years was cold.

and after all that damn cooking?

he could throw away the food and clean the dish he didn’t get to eat.

2 years and this was life. you used to bask in each others presence, go on dates, write poems together, make appearances, but now?

now you barely saw him because he was rehearsing lines with his new costar and you were trying to finish your album.

he didn’t look at you the same anymore, the house was cold, and those i love you’s we’re definitely empty.

you were perfect and just like that it was gone.

pretending like you were fine was the only thing you two had in common.

you remember one morning darius got a call stating he nailed his audition and filming would start soon. that night you two attended a movie premiere then at the after party you met t’challa and he introduced you to his sister, shuri.

now it was forced smiles on the red carpets, powdering your face after cry sessions, lying for him, and him avoiding questions about you slyly.

real enough.

now shuri, your producer for your upcoming 3rd studio album, she knew better.

she watched you write the songs, cry mid recording, consoled you when you came in with puffy eyes and swollen lips, fed you when you realized it had been some time between your last meal due to the fast paced life…she picked up the pieces.

and she hated it because she’s in love with you.

“okay! okay! but sza? ctrl literally raised me…sos is gonna eat.” you proclaimed to shuri one night after recording one song and touching up two others. it was crunch time and your label and fans wanted the album soon.

laughing at your seriousness she put the pho she had ordered down. the light you got in your eyes while speaking on the popular album was so cute to her.

you loved this shit as much as she did.

you were raw. letting each emotion out in each song and showcasing your life to shuri before showing it to those who supported you and your craft. you didn’t put on a facade in front of her even after you had been pretending for awhile.

“for me uh…” shuri paused to think after her giggles died down. she licked her bottom lip before flicking her eyes to yours. “definitely ego death by the internet. they raised me and i hope that their next album isn’t their last. i’d scream out to bast.” she started giggling again with you joining in.

two beautiful women discussing a mutual love.

“hey y/n. listen baby, i’m gonna be late, but i promise i didn’t forget.” you could hear aeva, darius’s costar, giggling in the back. “see you soon, love you.” he quickly said before the recording clicked in an ending.

according to him he wasn’t with her intimately, but you knew him. he was drawing away for awhile, way before this role. you wanted the peace of not caring or wondering what he was doing. wondering if what he once felt for you was what he felt for her just times ten.

in that moment, with tears in your bottom lash line and legs criss crossed sitting in the large black satin bed, you knew him coming home in a few hours, waking you up with sex and sorry’s you’ve learned not to believe wouldn’t cut it this time.

it hurt so bad to know that you were done.

it hurt more to know you gave up, not that the love died. you had already grieved on that. you tried so hard, but it takes two.

but you were so happy because you’d be able to address those growing feelings you had for a certain wakandan producer.

those feelings you suppressed to honor what was left of your expiring relationship.

all of that was over. you decided it.

climbing out of the king sized bed, you made your way to the bathroom. after cleaning up your face and sighing at the water clumped lash extensions, you decided you needed to shower to sooth the ache you felt simmer in your heart.

while rinsing the soap off of you, you realized your bedroom would make you feel suffocated. you needed to leave.

the only place close by though? shuri’s studio.

quickly drying off, moisturizing, putting on deodorant, and changing into a light pink crochet top, panties, black shorts, and the most beat up pair of crocs you owned, it was almost time to go.

a purse and jacket on one arm with your phone and keys in the other hand led you downtown.

shuri was up playing with beats. you needed one more song on the album before your label would review it and decide on the next steps.

she didn’t want the hard work you had done to not be cleared. this final beat would put you and her in the spotlight. this album was your baby and in a way, hers too.

she hadn’t heard griot announce your presence as she nodded her head to the beat, but she acknowledged your existence when she smelt your signature scent overwhelm her nostrils.

you definitely noticed her. she smelt so good and looked even better. her curls hung in front of her face, different vibranium rings across all 10 fingers, wearing low hanging sweats, and a tight beater that helped show off her lean, but muscular frame.

“y/n?” she called turning around. by the look of your eyes her heart dropped, but she could notice a different kind of look on your face compared to what she usually saw associated with that feature.

“what’s wrong, entle? kukho into ayenzileyo?” she asked stopping the beat, queuing a different track, and grasping your hands.

you smiled at her urgency. she was always so sweet to you.

“shuri you know i’m still learning. i only caught you calling me beautiful.” you teased with a smile. her heart didn’t feel as heavy anymore with that look. it wasn’t forced, just playful.

“kukho into ayenzileyo, i asked did he do something?” shuri said with a light smile and knowing eyes. yours darkened a bit before you looked away and contemplated on the best way to tell her.

“he promised he wouldn’t miss dinner again, he did and it’s because he wants to be with her.” shuri frowned at his actions.

“i can’t take this anymore so i’ve decided when he comes home i’ll let him know we’re done. i’m going to make sure he gets a good mover for his items and i find a good locksmith so he can’t come back.” you revealed. saying it out loud made you feel lighter.

“i’m giving it all up. i choose me and my happiness.” you whispered as she brought you into her chest. the slight jolt she endured as a result of you slamming into her made her bump the play button and start the last song you recorded together.

let’s pretend that we bout to break up…to catch the feelings so we can make up…

“i’m…i’m proud of you! this whole album was you baring it all and finding yourself…this might be the end of a chapter. you’re stepping into a new book.” shuri spoke to you. she was tired of picking up the pieces he broke. she was tired of seeing you try to fix them.

let’s pretend i ain’t your friend so we can get it on again.

“ndiyakuthandana.” she whispered her love to you.

so we can get it on again. let’s pretend we never met, a good excuse to play forget.

“nam ndiyakuthanda” you whispered right back.

i pretend it’s you…that i’m in love with…

a tattooed hand gripped the side of your face before shuri questioned you.

“you mean that shit?” she lowly whispered.

you looked into her dark eyes and thought about everything. the first session, your recent session, the parties, the conversations, the outings, the meals you ate together, the secrets you told, the feelings you shared, everything you’ve experienced with her or because of her you wouldn’t trade.

you did mean it.

a thousand times you’d say yes.

with a nod from you shuri lifted your head from her chest and kissed you.

she’s been waiting for it.

that kiss was one of many that night. clothes left on the soundboard, seven mixed calls and a few texts left from darius ignored, the sun started to come up, and a new life was brewing on the horizon.

pretending led you to what you really wanted.

shuri.

#shuri imagine #shuri x reader #shuri udaku #letitia wright shuri #shuri black panther #princess shuri #shuri fanfiction #shuri x you #shuri of wakanda #shuriri #shuri fluff #shuriri x reader #wlw

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muffin-man-marq-lynch · 1 month

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The thing about that post-match promo is that it's absolutely brilliant but kind of hilarious too

1001% a fantastic angle to take on Swerve's character as a whole as well as the Wembley match, I was talking about how Hangman's arc as the only one to call out that the emperor has no clothes is great, where MJF had a bit of the same thing when he had his heel turn again but Swerve? Swerve is on another level. Generational Champ level. Make the crowd chant Swerve's House as you break into someone else's house. Make the crowd chant 'Yes' for you while you beat the snot out of Wheeler Yuta when there was a famous Ramp up of people screaming for Yuta as the fan fave almost overnight as the underdog. Beat fan fave Ospreay. Snap arms as a finisher. Drive the OG beloved mascot of the Franchise to Insanity, obsession, and near heel status. Swervemania just grows by the day. They just love you more.

Is it the song? Nana and the dance? The athletic skills and variety in the ring? Attention to character detail? Just the killer swag and (let's be real we see it) massive dick with accompanying BDE? Whatever the star power we have The Derangement and they're playing with it.

MJF and Hangman and others have made the audience the villain this season. It's great. We've ruined things, but they need us and our approval so they're stuck. But where does that leave Swerve?

I have this thought, this recurring quote from Rick and Morty actually: "Your boos mean nothing, I've seen what makes you cheer." I'm thinking about the inverse of that effect. How if nothing you do is now tied to any threat of social failure or success... You start building your own metrics for success, or you have a meltdown when you realize that the void is meaningless.

Jericho and the Young Bucks are having the time of their lives revamping themselves as Heels doing whatever they want as often as they want pretty much. Swerve has spoken about how he came in and identified Hangman as the main character of AEW, now living without conflict after resolving his arcs, happy and loved by all at the Top. Bryan is at the end of his career as possibly the GOAT, preaching his 'i'm just here having a good time, so mentally healthy, proud of my kids and #grateful for every moment' philosophy.

If Swerve understands he can do no harm, or cannot fail / be killed in any way that truly matters... That's boring. There's no fight, no challenge, no real opposition no matter who steps up that week.

So if there aren't any storebought, make your own.

Breaking Hangman psychologically until he becomes as mutually obsessed as Swerve was, then more so when Swerve reverses on him to ignore him when he comes back, desperately screaming that he lost Everything to Swerve for no reason, and we love Swerve for it... Yeah. He's right.

Now we're taking another legend that can't be bothered with more than just phoning it in despite what he says, whom the audience can't turn against in any way that really matters, absolutely just fumbling around until we finally flick that switch in Bryan's brain from '#blessed' to 'i am no longer having a Good Time, call PETA and have them revoke my lifetime membership already because I'm going to beat you up and down this road like the 4H cow placing last at the country fair on the way to the slaughterhouse'. He's been full on Vibing all night, and suddenly the pale blue shirt isn't just Dadcore for cheering Yuta on but doing that thing where his Icicle Eyes are full blast.

And I'm recognizing this switch is hot AF and intense and I am Much more hype for Wembley, but also I'm just thinking about everything from Swerve's POV and laughing because so many things about this evening and promo are just a little ridiculous:

Yuta just being Jobber for the stars but man he isn't allowed to do much more than be pathetic

Hey babe I heard you and your gang like complicated intense submission holds that hurt like a motherfucker and you're still pretending not to notice me when I stand in the corner and flex my tits at you every 15 seconds so I invented one that's so complicated and cool looking the announcers are flabbergasted into stopping interrupting the match with exhausted repetitions of the PPV card at the bottom of the screen. You like it?

'And you know Yuta's tough he's no Punk' Tony I can't tell if that was a CM Punk joke or a genuine comment lmao

The walk back to medical taking so long

Claudio is in the building and Swerve said he wanted to feast on the rest of the BCC but he's already booked with Okada for Cardiff so they locked him in that same room Will Ospreay was in and he couldn't come out and watch or help carry Yuta

Yuta isn't allowed to say things he's 100% in dead cat mode and you can see him fighting it in the promo while they walk down 8 halls or something which is supposed to build tension but is like two aisles too many

Danielson shooting the cameraman the dirtiest look before he starts talking and ending with 'now get the fuck out out of here' like damn what did the cameraman do

Yuta slowly crawling off the cot on hands and knees as soon as Bryan is talking exit stage left

Actually I'mma headcanon the cameraman was Prince Nana sent to get a statement that's funny

Once again 'he's like a son to me' yes ok Bryan you were cheering enthusiastically and encouraging Swerve to beat the crap out of your 27 year old son at ringside you're sending mixed signals here

'CHECK. What happened to the last person who broke into my house.'

Love it. So we're still in the 50/50 space but it's been escalated to 'Retain / Peak Insane Automatic Violence.'

I don't have a comment here I just love that this is how he has always spoken and that he followed through.

Imagine being the other guy. You get back to your gang of likely other felony warrant holding criminals, and they say 'Where's the loot? And where's Sosa?

And you have to turn to them and deadly serious say 'I think Daniel Bryan killed him. I wasn't stopping but I could swear I hear him whispering something about cowardice, his kid, and cardiovascular health into his ear before Sosa's eyes closed.

#aew dynamite #monty mouths off #all elite wrestling #aew #bryan danielson #swerve strickland #daniel bryan #hangman adam page #aew wrestling #aew all in #long post #editing and reblogging a version with a Read more because i was Ranting last night lmao

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genesis-quoi · 3 months

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Everyone please please please do yourself a favor and check out @suzienightsky's Phantom Ruby Illusion Tails AU, I am literally gnawing on the walls it's so good. This recent comic crumpled my brain like a soda can so enjoy this unhinged piece based off of it and its dialogue. ^.^

If you get there before I do, comin for to carry me home~

Stillness shatters against the soothing warble of an old friend.

Shards of sound so desperately sought after skewer him before he thinks better of opening his eyes, and soon after they burn in the blue crackling of electricity that blurs away at the outer corners of his vision like the stars he hadn’t seen in months.

He wants to wipe his eyes but can’t, for the fear of bringing his electrified restraints close to his face again, of which the last attempt had him seeing things that weren’t there, and left him forever wondering if he’d ever be able to trust them like he once did.

Tell all our friends I’m comin too~

He ends up weeping openly. This is a voice he trusts, even as everything else fails him.

“Tails!” He cried, but it’s hollow and hoarse and pathetic how little he had to say now that his days and nights blurred together in the miserable swirl of longing.

“T-Tails-!”

His pleas were underscored by the droning buzz of electricity that echoed off the metal and a melody so familiar that everything else gets carried away easily in the gentle fondness that came with it, in and out of the bars of his cell like the call of home.

A long forgotten and bespoke spark ignites within him, brought to life by Tails’ apparent easiness, in spite of the situation.

He remembers teaching him that song what felt like a lifetime ago…back when he was barely taller than enough than his legs that he refused to let go of.

It was a tad silly, he thought in retrospect, though Tails took to it so long as he kept his own promises to be back before the tune was finished.

As they grew, it fell by the wayside for quite a bit, though the assurances it was meant to symbolize lived on in the ways they always tried to protect each other from situations like these.

He really shouldn’t be so happy that Tails is putting himself in danger like this, but hearing his voice after nothing but the thrum of machinery and his own screaming was a balm on his aching heart.

It’s him-it was really-

“Comin for carry me home~”

A silhouette approaches the bars from the darkness, and as it does so, he notices that it glows with that same loathsome tint he can’t escape even in sleep-

It’s just another trick.

Another illusion meant to torment him-

“Here you are!” It called to him, though he doesn’t turn around. Maybe it will just go away on its own.

“You were right, you know…things are a lot less scary now.”

It hums the rest of the chorus sweetly, oblivious to the way each note pulverizes him and he feels mangled like he’s gotten caught within the mundane backdrop of pistons and gears.

“Who sent you this time?” He snaps before long, and the last note out of its lips sours and shrivels into silence.

Nevertheless, with a deep sigh that sounded more like static off an old TV than a transfer of air, its next words are no less chipper.

“You did…didn’t you? You wanted me here-”

“I don’t want ‘you’ here. I want YOU you-the real you-!”

“Sonic, don’t you recognize me? I’m sorry I took so long…really! I tried, honest…but you promised we’d be friends no matter what…didn’t you?”

Its voice quavers in that heartbreakingly agonizing way it used to, back when he would have to field this question at least twice a day.

He can’t help himself.

Against his better judgment, he looks up and stares into the slightly damp eyes of the doppelganger parading around in his little brother’s skin, as if it had the audacity to be upset when it couldn’t even be bothered enough to try to be someone he missed.

“It’s me…you still love me, right?”

The pounding in his head grows as his mind splits itself apart. For once he wondered if it would all stop hurting so much if he just went along with it and gave in because he’s been here eight lifetimes as far as he knows. One of them might as well have a shred of comfort in it, even if he knows it’s all that’s left.

But the other, more stubborn part angrily refuses to give up, because if he never gets out of here he’d at least have done right by his real little brother, who’s out there somewhere probably moving mountains for him.

Tails is a fighter. They should be arguing right now about things they already know are implicit, just to hear it out loud again how much they meant to each other. It wasn’t like Tails to cave, to crumble, he just wasn’t that docile toddler anymore.

And yet…

“If it’s you…the real you…you’d’ve sprung me out of this place already.”

He glares at the faded red phantom of his brother with all the malice he can muster, and while its grin never falters, the rest of its form seems to slowly crack around it.

“What if,” a line splits directly down and fractures from its ear to an eye, “the only way we could be together was if i joined you?”

“No!”

He tried to be intimidating, but as if his subconscious thought it looked enough like Tails to warrant the innate softening being around him usually did, it sounded less like a demand and more like a blatant plea to get him to stop eating stuff off the ground.

“You’re not real! You aren’t real! You’re just like the rest of them, just go back to where you came from and leave me alone!”

That was supposed to have been the end of it. Maybe he’d disappear after calling him pathetic, or maybe Infinite would appear again, least likely Eggman strolling by to gloat despite his obvious failure to trick him this time…

But nothing happens.

Another growing crack creeps up one of its tails and it looked pained as it watched, cradling it in its hands in a futile attempt to stop it.

“You always said it didn’t matter what I looked like.” While the words are despondent, there’s definitely an off-putting hint of anger buried within it that captures his attention.

“But now that I’m like this…?” It stopped, suddenly trying to hide all the cracks that marred his…its little body like scars in that way that was too uncanny to be replicated-

“I used to think maybe you were just like the rest of them too, y’know. You were supposed to prove me wrong.”

There’s years of pain and sadness compressed into his admission that terrifies him-makes him think that maybe he does have it wrong and Tails is really here-that maybe he’s had unspeakable things done to him too and he’s only making it worse by turning his brother away just because he’s also had parts of himself taken away that would’ve made the choice easier.

“Wait, Tails-!” He shouted, far too late. It’s gone again, and it’s all his fault he’s got nothing but the shadows to talk to now.

Until he turned back around.

“Hi Sonic!”

He nearly falls backwards onto the metal in surprise when he hears the high-pitched bleating of a dusty old computer struggling to start up.

“Tails…?”

The kid is behind him now. Inside his cell.

“Yes?”

And while he should be irritated at having allowed himself to be even momentarily swayed, it-he…still looked far too similar to his little brother to the effect that he doesn’t have the heart or the energy for this anymore.

“You’re…not really him…” He tried gently, deflated.

If he was lucky, the phantom would take after the real Tails and understand his approach.

His brother could take his licks and a bomb to the face with pride and come out of it no worse for wear, only to crumble away into nothing every single time his own careful fingers would softly brush against his wounds.

“What do you mean?” The phantom illusion of Tails beams and it stands in stark, unsettling contrast to the darkness that surrounds them, like he doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to.

“Of course I’m him!”

He appears to be completely indifferent to the way his voice distorts around the lie.

“I missed you more than anything-!” The phantom grabs at his hands and the electric cuffs sear into his skin at the agitation the static brings.

It felt like pins and needles everywhere else, and not in a normal way he gets to laugh it off when it’s convenient.

It’s chilling. And terrifying in a way he can’t explain.

“Sonic…?” Tails seems hurt that he pulled away, and tries toward him a second time as if to redeem himself. “It’s me…remember…? It’s okay to be scared, but…it’s just me…”

“No…” His heart races and he can’t hear himself thinking…normally this wouldn’t be a problem for him if he could just get away but there’s nowhere to run and he can’t, even if there was-

“It’s just me…let me help you-”

The phantom bounds towards him with outstretched arms and the world starts to close in and everything bleeds red…everything, from the walls to the bars to the stars that aren’t there to the streaks running down the phantom’s cheeks-

“Please…?”

He tries to steady himself on the metal that jutted from the wall, but as soon as he sits he’s crashed into atop the makeshift bed and what felt like a current of lightning erupts through his entire body as the illusion engulfs him in an embrace that’s something akin to running face first into an electric fence.

His thoughts dissolve quickly into a loud screaming chorus of pain and discomfort as the phantom sensation of his little brother burrowing into him continues.

Much as it hurts he missed it so much he’d burn forever if it meant he never forgot what it was like.

The illusion’s words become little more than a steady thrum that reverberate through him and remind him that he’s still alive.

“You’d never replace me, right? You promised you’d stay, always. I’m here now. Everything is going to be okay again…”

He doesn’t remember losing consciousness, yet he comes to so pleasantly he’d been momentarily thankful that it was all a dream.

But the only thing that illuminates his thoughts in the darkness is a persistent glow, reflections of things that were never there lending credence to his loneliness…

And a song he knew all the words to, once.

Sometimes I’m up, sometimes I’m down~

The phantom illusion kicks his small legs off the side of the bunk to keep time, smiling broadly in a way that made him queasy when he’d noticed he was alert again.

Comin for to carry me home~

His song punctuates itself midway through with a series of light-hearted giggles as if they were around a campfire, either unaware or unbothered completely by the sight of the oppressive prison they were confined to.

“I waited for you!”

There’s a deep gouge in his face, just below one of his cheeks that keeps him from grinning any wider.

“...why…?” It’s all his addled mind can produce.

Tails’ eyes flitted to the ceiling, almost as if wistful despite the grimy nothingness of the view he’d picked over time and time again out of boredom.

“You’re gonna be here forever,” he nearly whispers, and despite the severity of the statement it’s laden with no emotion whatsoever, “that’s why I’m here…to keep you company.”

The phantom of his little brother continues to hum softly as he stares, admiring the cracks in the darkened corners of the cell.

Now he’s more than annoyed…he’s scared beyond anything that his nightmares were finally becoming reality the less defined reality became.

He’d watched Tails die too many times for this to be the new normal.

Who’s idea was this? It’s far too ‘potentially altruistic’ a plan to have been Eggman’s design, and Infinite usually tormented him in other ways…maybe he’s finally lost it in here.

While he certainly doesn’t plan on being here forever, he absolutely prefers the company over nothing, though not necessarily all of his alternatives.

For all he knows, it’s already been forever.

And if this is all that’s left, then…

Maybe he would hang onto home just a little longer.

#archived #forces angst in my 2024??? its more likely than you think #sth #phantom illusion tails au #does anyone else remember that one joke in aosth where tails sings swing low sweet chariot to pass the time in his cell before sonic arrive #bc i do #it never left me #thanks again to suzie!! check out her art it slaps #sonic the hedgehog

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ohtobeleah · 2 years

Text

Chaos // Bradley Bradshaw

Chapter Three: The Other Women

Summary: Things were good between you and Rooster for what felt like a total of one whole minute before your entire world came crashing down around you—just like you knew it would. It’s always the same, the more you fuck around? The more you find out.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff. SMUT—absolutely pitiful writing. (Heterosexual) Bradley Bradshaw x female reader.

Word Count: 6.6k

Author Note: EEP! I’ve been waiting to this chapter to go live since I finished editing it. So here it is! I couldn’t wait. Also, let’s play a little game—how many lines from popular songs can you spot!Have a lovely night and see you next week!

You weren’t a closed off kid. In fact you were the exact opposite. You’d talk to anyone about anything as long as they were willing to give you the time of day. But as you got older, you noticed how the people that mattered most to you seemed to vanish into thin air. You started to develop incredibly unhealthy abandonment issues—which at its current, were as heavy and all consuming as they were going to get.

It would be easy to blame it on the fact your dad had given up his fight against throat cancer, or blame Pete Mitchell for basically going MIA for months at a time without so much of an update. You could blame your wingman, Sam for dying when he said he’d see you tomorrow, but that would be selfish. Mainly you blamed your

issues on Bradley Bradshaw—because of all people he was the one who’d slip back in seamlessly, only to break your heart again every damn time. But most of all you blame yourself for letting him do it.

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU!” Pete shouted as your feet hit the floor. Rooster and Bob standing nearby as they watched you squeeze your throbbing right hand.

“He had it coming!”

“That wasn’t my question Chaos—I asked what the hell is the matter with you!?” Clenching your jaw you looked at Rooster before your eyes fell to Bob. Sighing, he threw the piece of ginger you’d slipped into his coffee mug when he wasn't looking this morning your way. Catching it with your left. His way of saying tell them everything because he sure as shit wasn’t going to. It was your story to tell. “Answer me—“

“I lost my wingman—“ It was the first time you were saying it out loud. Holding back tears as you looked to Rooster. His own heart breaking for you. “It was a routine training mission, Bob was there, he honestly should have been my back seater for this detachment but I didn’t want to fly with someone again. Didn’t want to be held accountable.” It wasn't an easy decision to give Bob up. He'd been the best back seater you’d ever flown with. But you couldn't do it again. Didn't want to do it again. Something about being responsible for another person in your cockpit made you feel weak, made you tremble in fear and that wasn't something you liked to admit. You didn't play well with others, but you’d easily tolerate Rober Floyd.

“Hangman pulled your file—“ Rooster interjected as you nodded softly in response. Your hand brushed and swollen. “That’s how he knew how to get to you?”

“He was supposed to be fine, it was just a bird strike he–he ejected into the water, ditched the jet—God there wasn’t a scratch on him.” Bob could hear your screams in his head still to this day. Having had to drag you kicking and screaming from the hospital the next day. “I told him I didn’t wanna leave him, said I’d sleep in the corner of the hospital room in one of those really uncomfortable chairs.” Scoffing you felt blood dripping from the cuts Hangman’s jaw had caused your knuckles. “He died of a brain haemorrhage, his helmet was faulty because he had a tendency to drop it.” You explained, your voice soft. Almost inaudible. “I left him and he died and I can’t take that back.”

“One, don’t drop your helmet, it could be the only thing that saves your goddamn life one day.” Rooster heard you repeat inside his head from yesterday. He didn’t realise it at the time but you were watching his back, not just being overly cautious. Not just being annoying.

“I won’t tolerate reckless behaviour in my classroom, or fraternisation in the workplace for that matter.” Pete reminded you and warned Rooster as your head hung low. “Get yourself together, cool off, and meet me and the rest of the crew down by the beach at five.”

“Sir?” Bob stopped Maverick before he left the room. “Chaos is one of the best pilots I’ve ever worked with, if you’re about to talk to the admirals? If they do decide to pull her? Please know that could be one of the worst things they could do for this mission's success.”

“Noted Lieutenant—“ Maverick smirked. “Noted.” Bob was hesitant to leave as you stood trying to compose yourself, Rooster having already made his way over to the small kitchenette to fish a handful of ice out of the freezer. Packing it into a clean cloth nearby.

“I got her.” Rooster softly assured the quiet weapons systems officer. Giving him the all clear to leave the room. Bob looked you up and down on final time. He’d heard alot about the man who liked to play tennis with your feelings, with your heart. Bob felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for you. Stepping closer to where Rooster stood. His balls suddenly in his throat.

“All due respect Rooster, if you even think about breaking her heart again—“ Bob paused for a moment as he looked at you over Rooster's shoulder. Now sitting on the nearest table. Legs hanging over the edge. “I’ll kill you.” It wasn’t like Bob to threaten people, but when it came to the people he cared about? He’d do just about anything.

“I wouldn't dream of it, Bob.” Rooster assured him, watching as he nodded– accepting the reality of the situation that was playing out. Leaving you two alone, Bob left the room, his stomach unsettled because you blame yourself too much for the things you couldn't control. Wishing for a moment he could take just an ounce of the weight you placed on your shoulders.

Standing in his place for a moment, Rooster sighed deeply before he made his way over to you, jumping up onto the table beside you with a small audible huff.

“It’s always the weapons systems officers who end up scaring the crap out of me.” Rooster chuckled as he came to sit beside you, his knee bumping yours he sat that close. Smirking, you took the makeshift ice pack Rooster handed over.

“Bob's good people, he really held me together there for a while.” Placing the ice pack over your knuckles as you let your head fall against Rooster’s shoulder. He didn't reply straight away, he simply smiled softly as the feeling of being so domestically close to you. Enjoying the simplicity of the interaction. Nothing ever seemed so simple with you anymore, that was mainly his own fault.

“I wish you would have told me.” Rooster broke the silence as he shoulder bumped yours. Your head lulling off his shoulder as you looked at him. “I would have been there in a heartbeat for you.”

“Please, you wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow, Bradshaw.” You spoke way too softly, Rooster hated seeing you like this. “I didn’t—I don’t.” You corrected yourself. “Wanna let you in again because I know when I do it’s gonna hurt like hell,, you leave me every time I let my guard down.”

“You know I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you do anyway.” You were quick to justify why you had become so closed off. “You do anyway Rooster and I tell myself every time that you don’t mean to but it doesn’t change the fact I’m left pulling myself together again after Hurricane Bradshaw leaves a trail of destruction.” Pushing yourself off the table you stood before Rooster. His hands instantly drawing you closer to him by your hips. Standing between his legs as he listened to you. His eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips.

“You're heartless, cruel, you take miles from inches Rooster and we never get to finish what we start.” Rooster took notice that whenever he was without you—birds didn’t sing. There was no joy, no one to come home to. Sure he had a fling with some girl called Lindsey in his brief stint in New York but he couldn't commit. Birds stopped singing whenever you weren’t in his life and perhaps that was just something he noticed. Something small you took with you each and every time along with his heart, his ability to love. But as you stood between his legs, his fingertips curled into your hips. The birds outside the window had a reason to sing again. Removing a hand from your hip to burst the hair that had fallen effortlessly across the side of your face behind your ear. Cupping your cheek as he noticed your eyes trailing down to his lips then back to his eyes. “You really really don’t wanna do this.” You mumbled, warning Rooster.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” Rooster smirked as he pulled you down into him. His lips on yours in a hot, needy mess. Both his hands cupping your cheeks. His tongue dancing with yours as you gave him more access to deepen the kiss.

“I don’t know how to properly explain how I feel about you.” Rooster broke the kiss. Letting his forehead rest against yours. “I run because the way I feel about you scares the shit out of me, I’m scared to lose you so I push you away, I think if I push you that maybe it’ll hurt less.”

“What did I call you yesterday? You teased as your forehead fell against Roosters. His hands trailing down your body to fall against your ass. Keeping you close to him as you stood between his legs.

“You called me Dumb–”

“Yeah.” kissing Rooster was as addictive as adrenaline to an adrenaline junkie. It was also just as life threatening. “Seems pretty accurate.” Things were complicated to say the very least. On one hand? Rooster was home. He always was and always would be home. But like one of those disgruntled, abusive manipulative homes? The ones where you just love them too much to see how much damage they’re actually doing until it’s far too late. Yeah—that was Bradley Bradshaw. “You’re no good for me, Rooster.”

“I know—“ You were expecting Rooster to put up some sort of fight, give you some complicated argument that turned the tables back onto you. But he didn’t. Rooster simply pulled back, his forehand disappearing from yours so he could get a good look at you and everything that made you. “Believe me, I know.” It was the way he said it that had your heart melting. Apologetic, self aware. “I don’t bring much to the table, and trust me I know everything that’s ever happened with us has been a direct chain link reaction because of something I did—but.” As Rooster spoke, your fingers played gently with the buttons of his flight suit. Your eyes hooded on his chest. “But none of that, no matter how bad things have gotten? I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried.” Something inside the pit of your stomach dropped—not in at oh you were going to be sick kinda stomach drop. But in an oh fuck am I really gonna fall for this bullshit again? Kinda way. Had the handful of times you’d dated Bradley Bradshaw in the past really taught you nothing? Staring at Rooster his eyes begged, pleading with you to say something—anything.

“Perhaps, maybe—if you're willing to try again? I’d be willing as well?” It wasn’t a definitive statement, more so a lingering question. But nevertheless it sparked Roosters curiosity bringing his arms down again to scoop you forward and into him by your waist.

“Is that so?” He teased. Kissing you softly as he kissed him back. Lips melting almost perfectly together.

“Very slowly, at a snail’s pace.” You cooed as Rooster smirked back at you. Kissing you again only this time with more behind it. His tongue slowly ran across your bottom lip as he begged for entry. Wanting, no—needing more of you.

“Is this slow enough?” Rooster knew he was already approaching supersonic, but the way you stared at him? Biting your bottom lip as you chuckled and smirked wildly, was worth it.

“Slower.” You reminded him, your voice hiding whatever anxiety you were feeling in the pit of your stomach about feeling so vulnerable, so open. But whatever it was it all went away when Roosters lips were on your once again. Slowly, passionately. His hands cupping your cheeks as yours rested on his knees. Pushing yourself up an inch or two onto your toes.

“Okay, sure—what about now?” Pulling away breathless Roosted dared to ask you one more time, looking for any sign to slow down despite your obvious explication. All you could do was laugh at yourself, at how pathetic you felt in the palms of his hands. Safe, secure—in the most dangerous position of all.

“You’re becoming an occupational hazard Rooster.” Pushing away, you turned on your heels, sinking your teeth softly into your lip to once again stop yourself from smirking too wide. Too obviously smitten with the man of your dreams and your nightmares. “I’ll meet you at the Beach.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“You got a hot date or something afterwards Bradshaw?” Mickey Garcia or as you’d known him by his call sign—Fanboy, teased a very sweaty, very shirtless, very ripped Rooster. You hadn’t really been able to take your eyes off him for the entire game of dogfight football. Rooster knew it too. He would deny it, but he’d been showing off just for you. Flexing his muscles, getting down and dirty. Wandering hands found their way to every part of you too—without shame, without a care. But now? He was flaunting his ego a little too much.

You had him right where you wanted him. Bending over in an attack position—ready to take off running down the beach the moment the whistle blew. You knew he was yours. “Wish someone would take me out!”

“What, on a date or with a sniper?” Rooster shouted back as he laughed, looking your way as you geared up to tackle Mickey.

“Surprise me!” Fanboy laughed, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose just as the whistle blew. Watching as you came sprinting his way. “Oh fuck—“ with a sudden clap of skin contacting skin and a subtly Oof, you and Mickey crashed to the wet sand below. Landing on top of him as the group whistled and cheered. “Jesus Christ, where did you come from!” Fanboy beamed as he let his head rest against the same, feeling you disappear from on top of him as you offered him a hand. Helping him up.

“You were too busy eyeing off Roosters abs, you may as well have had a giant red target on your chest.” Tapping his back softly, you walked side by side.

“Am I stepping on your toes Kazansky?” Fanboy cooed, knowing there was something between you and Rooster he could tease. “Don’t wanna share?”

“Unfortunately I’m not into polygamy, so no, Garcia—keep your eyes off what’s mine.” You could see Rooster out of the corner of your eye. He’d already fallen into the routine of just knowing where you were. Taking in the way you looked so effortlessly immaculate in your shorts, hidden by the cuff off the oversized shirt that adorned your body—deciding that Bob shouldn’t be the only person playing shirts.

“Ohh she’s claimed a camp. That’s cool that’s cool—I’ve still got my one and only.” Fanboy was pure. He was good people, the more time you spent getting to know the different TopGun pilots you knew they’d give anything to protect their own. Everyone except maybe Jake Seresin.

“Left or right?” You teased, questioning the back seater's personal preferences wondering if he’d respond. He did—way too proud.

“Right, but sometimes if I go in with the left it feels like—“ cutting Fanboy off with a groan you stopped him from going into too heavy detail.

“Okay—that’s enough, way too much information!” Laughing together as you reached down for the football, passing back to Mickey.

“So Bradshaw—“ Hangman cupped Rooster's exposed shoulder with his hand. The sun soaking into his skin. “How’s Chaos?” He wouldn’t normally ask, but his jaw still throbbed. “She packs a mean punch—“

“I wouldn’t wanna be the one on the receiving end, that's for sure.” Rooster stood with his arms crossed, watching you run around, laughing. “She’s okay—how’s the jaw?”

“Throb’s abit but nothing I can’t handle.” He wasn’t ready to admit it, but Jake felt bad for bringing up your file. Perhaps he’d crossed an unspoken line. But that would be a redemption arc for another day. “I do wanna know something though.” Hangman paused for a moment, watching you and Bob tag team. Racing up the straight of the beach as Hangman and Rooster stood off to the side—watching the chaos of dogfight football unfold. “I never took you for the eleventh man kinda vibe, always thought you were more of a paper rings person.” Frowning, Rooster turned to Hangman with a questioning brow. Annoyed.

“What are you going on about now?“ The irritation wasn’t very well hidden as Rooster spoke with Hangman. He still hadn’t really processed the tension he felt from the highly escalated training breakdown.

“You know, the eleventh man theory?” The silence could have been deafening as Hangman’s statement fell on deaf ears.

“No clue what you're talking about.”

“Right, well—say there’s a woman sitting around a table with ten men.” Hangman explained as he watched Roosters eyes trail you up and down the beach. “And all ten men are telling her how beautiful she is, how amazing she is. They’re buying her beers, sharing their food, just treating her like some goddess who’s walking the earth amongst us.” Rooster couldn’t help but to think, hell—he thought you were beautiful, a goddess in your own right. A powerful, respectable—independent Goddess. “Then, all of a sudden in walks the eleventh man.” Rooster turned his attention back to Hangman, his eyes off you reluctantly. “He takes one look at her, says, how you going—turns his back on her and turns all his attention back to his buddies.” Hangman let it sink in for a second before continuing his monologue that Rooster hadn’t remembered asking for. “That’s the guy she wants to be with, the eleventh man, not any of the ten men testing her well.”

“Where exactly are you going with this?” Rooster couldn’t help but to think this was coming off more an insult to his integrity than guidance.

“For some reason? Women don’t want nice, they don’t want real, they don’t wanna be treated well I mean—not a first and sometimes not ever. And I kinda get the vibe you’re a master at playing that role—the eleventh man.”

“And for some reason I really don’t trust your judge of character, all things considered.” Rooster left it at that as he walked your way, meeting you halfway up the beach as he flung his arm around your shoulders. Feeling your arm smack behind his midsection.

“So I was thinking, you, me—dinner, my place?” Rooster smirked as he tried tripping you up in the sand as you evaded his every attempt, countering his attacks.

“You and thinking are never good together.” Teasing you stopped in your tracks. “But what were you actually thinking?” The sun had turned golden and it made Rooster look oh so fine.

“I heard that Penny has a mean takeaway menu.” The invitation still in the air, for a moment Rooster genuinely believed you may turn his advancements down. “Just between two friends who need to catch up.” At his words you felt smitten, endlessly looped into a world where Bradley Bradshaw would forever have your heart.

“Okay, um—yeah I’ll have a shower and head over if you wanna order?” You agreed, kissing his cheek softly. The warmth the sun had gifted him radiating under your lips.

“Sure, sounds great.” Rooster replied as he felt helplessly into your web. Your touch? pure crack. Always had been always would be. His love language had always been physical.

“Rooster?” You cooed as you pulled away, squinting as the sun hit your face. Holding a hand up to shadow it. “Remember, slow.” Feeling the need to just remind him, because with how good he was looking? There was a slight chance you wouldn’t remind yourself later.

Rooster chuckled, noticing the way your eyes trailed down his body. Reaching out to tilt your chin up. Caught red handed as his ego skyrocketed.

“Slow and steady—got it.”

But things did not go slow and steady. Things got hot and things got very heavy very quickly the moment you stepped into Roosters small studio apartment. The short twenty minute drive off base had you pulling up to the Bradshaw residence. Unlike your first experience at TopGun, you’d been given the opportunity to either live on base in the Barracks or—in Fightertown. Rows of small studio townhouses lined the streets. You were lucky enough to have something a little more spacious. A two bedroom one bathroom. Rooster? He was very much living a Bachelor's dream. The studio townhouse was all he needed. One bed, one bedroom. Small living room with a kitchenette off to the side. But none of that really mattered. Because the second you stepped through the threshold of Bradley’s home? You were on him and he was most certainly on you.

There was a small pause when Rooster opened the door. Your eyes lingered on him as his travelled the extent of all that was you. If you were put on the stand and asked to swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth so help you god you wouldn't be able to say who started it. Who exactly made the first move or who definitely made the first unholy move. But nevertheless it happened. As much as your brain was telling you to pull back, take it slow, don't dive head first into the deep end without learning how to swim first. Your lips melted with Roosters perfectly as he took you in his arms. Working to bring you further into his home as you shut the door blindly behind you.

“What happened to slow and steady?’ Rooster teased as he led you down the hall to his bedroom, your hands on the curves of your hips as you reached up to cup his face with one and and to hold the back of his head close to you with the other. Bumping into the wall as he reached behind him for his door handle. “This doesn't feel very slow and steady?”

“Shut up and kiss me.” You mumbled into his mouth, eyes closed, headstrong. Rooster smirked against you–softly biting your bottom lip as he pulled you into his room. Spinning you around before kicking your feet out from under you. Standing to watch you fall back onto his bed before he followed you down. Hovering over you as he attacked the juncture of your neck with soft kisses. Peppering your skin with marks that would surely be visible come the morning.

“Yes ma'am–” You heard Rooster mumble as your hands wandered between you. Reaching for the waistband of his tracksuit pants. Slipping past the band of his boxer briefs, you found him. Hard, throbbing. Aching for some sort of relief. “Ohhh-fugh.” it was music to your ears. The way Rooster buried his face into the crook of your neck as you slowly but ever so surely worked him over. “Y/n–”

“Bradley–” Rooster found your lips again before he pulled himself away, standing to rid himself of his shit, his sweatpants. Almost as if you were trying to match his eagerness, you did the same, ridding yourself of your shirt, your pyjama shorts. Rooster stood before you as you kneeled in front of him on his bed, staring you down like a man who;d been touch starved and deprived of all human contact for weeks, months, years. “Like something you see?”

“Oh I love someone I see.” His words made your heart leap over the moon as he came down to kneel in front of you, his hands pulling you close to him by your hips as he leaned in to kiss you again. Slowly, passionalty, deeply. “So much, you have no idea.” Rooster felt your hands on his length once again, pumping him expertly as he let his forehead rest against yours. “Can't ever get enough of you.”

“You're just saying that so I don’t stop.” Teasingly, you moved your hand a little faster up and down the length of Bradleys shaft, your core dripping at the hitch in his voice as he moaned softly, trying to keep his cool as you made his head spin. All the blood in his body bumping through one body party.

“I'll say whatever you want me to say so long as you keep going.” You were high, looking down as you watched your hand glide up and down Rooster’s shaft. Deciding it just wasn’t enough. Taking charge as you pushed him down onto his back, watching with hungry eyes as Rooster crawled backwards up to where his pillows laid sprawled around. Perhaps sleep never came easy to him either, you caught yourself thinking for only the briefest of moments. Crawling after Bradley you sunk low between his exposed thighs, skin a little lighter where his shorts usually covered. More sensitive. Running your nails up and down the flesh that never saw enough attention, the hiss Rooster made in response orgasmic in and of itself. “Shit–!” before he had a chance to really do anything besides let his guard down, your mouth was expertly taking him. Inch by inch. Slowly working your tongue around his girth, eyes trained on him as you did so. Whatever you couldn't fit? Your hand was wrapped around, making sure every inch was accommodated for. “Oh my god, fucking christ–” reaching down to card his fingers into your hair, Rooster couldn’t help but to guide you down on him. His hips slightly bucking up whenever your mouth came down to take every inch on him. His entire world was spinning—the feeling of your mouth so warm and inviting around his shaft. The back of your throat against the tip of his cock. “Ohh—fuck baby you’re killing me.”

Baby. That was something Rooster hadn’t called you in a long time. Pausing, you sat up, pushing yourself back onto your knees as Rooster followed you desperately. His eyes had never been so dark. So lustful. So hungry. Laying you down as he sunk between your thighs, leaving a trail of soft and subtle kisses up the inner part of your thigh. His arms wrapping up and around your legs, his hands resting on your lower abdomen as his eyes asked you for permission to dive head first into his pandora’s box.

“Bet you still taste like candy—“ it could have been a throw back to the night you and Rooster had lost your virginity together. Or maybe to the hundreds of other times you’d have sex—still, it made you throb at the idea he craved the taste of you. Nothing could compare.

“Why don’t you stop doing so much talking and find out?” Within a second of your taunting tease, Rooster's mouth devoured you. Your elbows that were working to support you kicked into overdrive as Bradley’s Tongue lapped at your core, sending shockwaves of unimaginable pleasure throughout your entire body—from the tips of your toes to your fingertips. Wrapping your legs around his shoulders Bradley got deep, got messy. Sucking against your client as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. “Oh fuck—! Yes, yes yes Rooster just like that, ah fuck!”

“What’s my name?” Rooster pulled away as he quickly replaced his mouth with two of his thick digits, slipping easily past your folds. Invoking an all consuming moan of pleasure from the depth of your soul as you rolled your eyes. Throwing your head back as your elbows gave out. “Say it—“

“I’m not saying it!” You cried as Rooster curled his fingers into your velvet walls. Working the pad of his thumb around in small circles against your clit. He knew you were close by the way you were grilling his fingers. “Bradley—fuck, please don’t stop.”

“I’m not gonna let you cum until you say it at least once, like you mean it too.” Rooster was having the time of his life, watching you fight for your life as he worked you ever so perfectly towards your high. His fingers coated, his thumb cramping, crawling up slightly to hover over yiu, taking the hardened bud of your nippled between his teeth before sucking. Making a pop before he moved onto the next. “Say it Chaos—“

“I’m gonna cum!” You eyed him down with a slack jaw. Totally consumed. “Bradley—I’m gonna—“

“Say it and I’ll get you there.” You couldn’t hold it back, afraid Rooster would stop his motion you gripped his worst so he couldn’t pull away—leaving you unsatisfied. Looking him directly in the eyes you begged him, pleaded with him to keep going. You were so very close. “Say it baby—“

“Daddy—you’re daddy!” It hit you like a tsunami. The orgasm that Rooster coaxed you through with his fingers, with his touch, with his shit eating grin because he got you to say the one thing you swore on your life you’d never call him. “Ohhhh my god!” You couldn’t help it, your eyes rolled as you moaned and enjoyed the pleasure Rooster had given you.

“Your so fucking gorgeous.” Rooster whispered as he littered your neck with soft kisses. “So gorgeous Y/n.” Coming to you craved more, instantly needed to feel full. When Roosters lips finally made their way to yours, you took the chance to flip over—it was now you in charge. Straddling his waist as Rooster's length laid between your folds. Slick and warm. “My turn.” You smirked. Pulling Bradley’s hands up over his head. You knew in any other circumstance he’d fight you, wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of control. But you had him, he’d do anything you asked.

If anyone was going to know who fucked who? They were going to know you fucked Bradley Bradshaw—he didn’t fuck you.

Bucking his hips up, Rooster aided you as you guided yourself down his length. Taking him inch by inch as he stretched you out. The O sound you made had Roosters head spinning. Gripping your thumbs as you held his hands over his head, pressing him into the bed. Your mouth blinding searching for Bradley’s to muffle your moans. Grinding atop him as you took him entirely.

“Fuck—“ Rooster hissed into your mouth. His teeth crashing against your as you slowly slid up and down, up and down. Your nectar coating his coat so well it was nearly perfect the way he fit inside you. The tip of Rooster's cock kissed your cervix with passion every time you took him deep. Hip crashing with his. “Holy fuck—baby.” There is was again. That pet name. It gave you such an incentive to keep going, keep fucking him the way you knew he liked it.

“I know you wanna cum for me, don’t you Bradley.” You teased as you tried to bring him closer to his high. “Drip down my thighs—fill me to the brim.” If Rooster died tomorrow this was what his version of heaven would be like. His eyes rolled as he threw his head back, neck straining as he broke his hands out from underneath yours. Bringing them crashing to your hips as he bent his knees—planting his feet against the mattress as he fucked up into you. “Fuck!! Yes!! Bradley—!!” It was hard, nasty, desperate.

“I’m so fucking close—“ Rooster could feel his balls, how tight they were. He felt the load ready to release at the base of his shaft, pooling—ready for release. “Where do you want me to?”

“I don’t care, I’m covered.” You were taking regular birth control, although not one hundred percent effective against pregnancy you could always get your hands on a plan B. “Wherever you want, daddy.” It absolutely nailed you to say it, it wasn’t your vibe. But you knew Rooster loved it. “Cum for me baby.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—Fuckk—!!” Rooster groaned as he fucked you hard, his cock pulsing inside you as you felt the warm sensation of his load filling you. Dripping against your velvet walls. “Oh my god.” Stilling, Roosters tense muscles softened. Pulling you down to his chest as you both caught your breath, sweaty. “Jesus Christ—“

“That was not very slow and steady of us.” You listened to Rooster's heart beating as he held your head against his chest.

“Oh god no, we skipped like six thousand steps there.” Kissing your forehead Bradley laid his head back against his mattress. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

The gentle sound of the shower running mixed with the alarming sound of Rooster’s phone going off on his bedside table had you jolting away. Stretching underneath the covers, you rolled over. An unknown number lighting up Roosters phone.

“Hey Roos—your phones ringing, unknown number!” You shouted.

“Uh, can you answer it?” Rooster’s voice carried itself out to where you’d laid in his bed. Still naked under the thin sheets as you sat. Yawning as you answered.

“Hello Bradley Bradshaw's phone.”

“Hi, who's this?” A woman’s voice rang through your ear as you frowned.

“Oh this is Lieutenant Kazansky, just answering Roo—“

“Well this is Lindsey, his girlfriend, can you get him to call me back? I had to get a new number, his number wasn’t working with my old one.” It just didn’t click at the time purely because you were stuck on the whole girlfriend thing. “Hello?”

“Sure, yeah uh—sure, I’ll um.” Rooster stepped back into his room with a towel strung low around his waist. Still dripping wet. Turning your head to face him you choked out your words as your jaw clenched.

Un fucking believable.

“I’ll get him to call you back, Lindsey.” Roosters eyes went wide as you dropped his ex-girlfriend's name. If that’s what he’d even call her. Racing towards you as you hung up the phone, throwing it down with a look Rooster never hoped to ever be on the receiving end of again. Scurrying off his bed.

“Y/n wait—“ Rooster watched as you bundled up your clothes, dressing yourself quickly. “It’s not what you think I swear—“ Reaching out as you shrugged him off. Snapping back at the only man you’d ever truly loved. The only person who you thought just maybe, giving one more chance to, wouldn't blow up in your face again. But oh boy did it. Bigger than ever before.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You shouted, the agony evident and clear, utter heartbreak lacing every word. Hot tears streamed down your face as uncontrollable quivers made your lip to that unsteady quivering thing children did when they were upset. Only this felt primal, a natural instinct taking over– you needed to leave, get the fuck out of Bradley Bradshaws house, get away from him, remove yourself from his life once and for all. This had been nothing but a mistake you promised yourself you wouldn't make. Yet here you were. As you got dressed as quickly as you could you couldn't stop yourself from mumbling out the atrocity you felt like.

“The other fucking women Bradshaw!” Scoffing, you felt sick to your stomach. “Fuck you’ve made me feel like a lot of things but this? The other women!!” Your chest grew tighter and tighter with every breath you took.

“Y/n I’m serious this isn’t how it looks, I promise!” Rooster tried to explain but you just weren’t willing to listen. “I promised you, and I meant that.” There was a reason the number had come up as unknown. Rooster had been seeing this girl in New York on and off for a few months, nothing serious, super casual. Until one day he came home to find her half way through moving some of her stuff in. it was kind of a red flag he just wasn't willing to take the chance on. Calling it off as soon as he could, as polite as he could. It was needless to say things had been a little crazy there for a while. To the point where he had to block Lindsay on all his socials, his email, his phone.

Rooster should have known deep down that even if the hardest pill he could ever shallow was knowing you could find another him tomorrow, he could never find another you no matter how hard he tried.

“I knew– I goddamn knew I never should have let you in!!” Turning as Rooster followed you out of his room down his hallway. Heading towards the front door. “Don’t you ever talk to me again! Do you understand!”

“Just wait a second and let me explain!” Rooster really did try to make an effort to stop you leaving, stop you from getting away before he had the chance to explain. Reaching out for your wrist you smacked him away. Pointing a stirn finger his way as all the hurt, all the betrayal and anger you felt just poured out in waves. Completely consuming Rooster as it finally clicked.

You thought so little of him and his ability to actually love you that you generally thought he’d do this to you.

“So help me god Bradshaw I will break every bone in your hand if you touch me one more time.” It was the silence that hurt the most, Rooster’s inability to just say he didn't use you. Caught up in his own emotional turmoil at the realisation you must have had incredibly low expectations of him. “I never should have let you in.”

“You really think that low of me that I'd do this to you.” Rooster didn't pick his head up. His eyes never met yours as he stopped any and all attempts to not let you walk out of his house. Perhaps it was the best thing he could ever do for you? Let you believe he cared so little.

“Well I’d never treat me this shitty!” Your face grew hotter with every passing second, Rooster held his own tears back as he felt his heart shattering. For once? He felt an ounce of the heartbreak he’d probably caused you ten times over. “You know something Bradshaw?” There it was again, that sting of his last name. Rooster realised it wasn’t what you said it was how you said it. You'd only use his last name to tease him, get a rise out of him—but you’d started using it to hurt him. “I never told anyone anything bad about you, sure! I told Bob about some guy I used to date who made promises to change but couldn’t pull the trigger and even if I was talking about you? I never—ever said your name!” Shoving at Roosters chest he never budged. “That so embarrassing Rooster, you were my everything!! You are my fucking everything but all you constantly do is make me sad!”

“If you would just stop and listen to me for one second Y/n I promise it’s not what you think.” His final attempt to get you to listen had you stepping back with every advance Rooster made.

“Please—“ Sobbing, you begged him. Pleaded with whatever love you had left for him. “Leave me alone.” Before you made your way out Roosters front door. Leaving him standing in the threshold watching you get into your rusted up Bronco. Roosted watched on as you ripped the chain from around your rear view mirror, pulling it with such force it snapped like every single heart string he had.

It wasn’t long before it landed discarded on his front lawn. Holding the towel that hung low on his hips, Rooster paddled over to where the now broken necklace he had gifted you all those years ago had landed. Picking it up before he walked back inside,

Placing it next to where his own half hung—

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Chaos Masterlist

Tags: @lyannaredbird @luckyladycreator2 @skagelynn @teacupdreams @the-winter-marvel33reblogs @mrsjaderogers @katieshook02 @thescarletknight2014 @justanothermagicalsara @4ngelicb4byy @percysaidnever @puriini @luckylexie @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @shrimping-for-all @fayethefairy @lonelywitchv2 @mizzzpink @unforgettwble @itzyogurl92 @lemoonandlestars @mulletmcghee @redqueeen99 @bucky-barmes @mak-32 @fivsecondsflat

#bradley bradshaw angst #top gun bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x f!reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader

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hypequeenves · 6 months

Text

ALASTOR RADIO SHOW

So this has been sitting in my brain for a really long time. I've made about a 50 minute video on what Alastor's Radio Show might sound like. Because I am who I am I've also put some references to Vesper in there, because of course I did. The full video is will be up on YouTube https://youtu.be/zWNpshsogiQ?si=0Ct8ygRoAYF1-f4u , but it’s quite long so here is some of my favourite clips and also the ones pertaining to Vesper's story!

youtube

INTRO:

SUBTITLES: Ah, good evening, my devilish comrades! It's been an eternity since I last graced the airwaves! What with those celestial attacks and constructing a spiffy new studio, I've been positively swamped. So, do pardon my absence from our nightly rendezvous. But fear not, for I've returned with a vengeance, ready to regale you with tales that'll send shivers down your spine! But before we delve into the depths of the night, let's ponder a question that's been buzzing in the back of our minds: Is VoxTek Angelic Security as impenetrable as it claims? Or are we merely being hoodwinked by the corporate demons? Fear not, my friends, for we shall uncover the truth. But first, let's kick off this evening with a toe-tapping tune, "Let the Good Times Roll" by the incomparable Louis Jordan. So, let's not waste a moment more, shall we? Or as they say: Laissez le bon temps rouler!

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YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO BE ON THE SHOW? TW: Screaming, Crying, Someone is in PAIN BEWARE! (Also, I can't tell if its cringe or not)

SUBTITLES: The song slowly comes to an end, when the mic goes hot again you can hear someones panicked breathing along with Alastor humming. There is the sound of a knife hitting the table and then a scream. ALASTOR: Quiet now dear - You’re ON AIR. Can you be quiet for me now? VICTIM: mhm... ALASTOR: Yes? VICTIM: Yes. ALASTOR: Good. While I finish up with our distinguished guest here, let me deliver you a delightful ditty, that is just the perfect amount of ironic considering our current company. Here is "Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out" by the sensational Bessie Smith. The breathing gets more intense until they scream, but their scream is cut short as the mic goes cold again.

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AIRWAVE ALERTS w ALASTOR!

SUBTITLES: Wasn't that just the most delectable interruption. Well as promised: Here is Airwave Alerts with Alastor. There seems to be a string of murders in the Mafia and Weapons District of Pentagram city! You heard me right, murders! It seems that the perpetrator is using angelic bullets to take out their targets. And although I would like to stake a claim on these murders, I cannot take credit for another's work. While the culprit remains a mystery, where they seemed to have acquired the weaponry is not. Unusually Carmilla Carmine has seen fit to stay silent on the topic. One would hope that she would be able to make a public statement soon. Ah, while you mull over that jaw-dropper, let me serenade your senses with a tune that'll have you tappin' your toes and hittin' the road in style! It's none other than "Route 66" by the legendary Nat King Cole. So sit back, relax, and let the smooth sounds of this classic take you on a ride down that ol' highway of dreams!

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UPDATE ABOUT CHARLIE:

SUBTITLES: Ah, listen up, denizens of the infernal realm! It's time for a little update from the Princess of Hell itself. Seems our friend Charlie Morningstar has taken matters into her own hands, bless her devilish heart. She's put forth a petition for those brave souls willing to stand tall in the face of the next extermination - should it come to that, of course. Now, I hate to rain on anyone's parade, but our heavenly counterparts up above have been keeping mum on the matter. And let me tell you, my dear fiends, that's not exactly music to our ears! But fear not, for there's a glimmer of hope yet! If you're ready to lay down your very essence to defend our infernal home from these angelic invaders, then you best hotfoot it over to the Notice Board smack dab in the centre of cannibal town. Sign your name with pride, for in unity lies our strength! (slightly less enthusiastic) Or something along those lines. With that obligatory bit of unpleasantness addressed, my dear listeners, it's time to lighten the mood and spread some cheer! This next tune is dedicated to none other than our beloved Charlie Morningstar, the beacon of hope in this dark and dreary place. So kick back, relax, and let the melodies of "You're Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile" by Charles Strouse and Martin Charnin wash over you. Remember, my dear souls, even in the depths of Hell, a smile can work wonders!

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GOSSIP ABOUT VESPER:

SUBTITLES: Well, well, well, my curious listeners, have I got a spicy tidbit for you! It seems our resident pop sensation, the one and only Vanessa LaBlanc better known by her stage name Vesper, has been spotted gallivanting around town in the company of none other than Asmodeus, the King of Lust himself! Now, isn’t that a twist? It's been a hot minute since the Cardinal Sin of Lust graced the Pride Ring with his presence. So, what devilish plans could he be concocting with our delightful Vanessa? Ah, my dear sinners, the plot thickens! But fear not, for yours truly will be keeping a close eye on this tantalizing tale. So stay tuned, my friends, for the juiciest gossip this side of Hell. Up next the weather! But before we delve into the forecast, let's soar among the stars with the timeless crooner himself, Frank Sinatra! It's time to let the velvety voice of Ol' Blue Eyes serenade us with "Fly Me to the Moon." So close your eyes, let the music carry you away, and dream of celestial delights as we prepare for the weather—though, as I suspect, the forecast may indeed call for a storm of scandal!

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If you made it this far - if no one has told you today, you're amazing!

#alastor #oc #hellaverse #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel #the vees #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin art #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #carmilla carmine #hazbin hotel carmilla #helluva boss asmodeus #Youtube

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gaysindistress · 1 year

Text

As Good a Reason - three

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: when Brock Rumlow picks a fight he can’t win with the White Wolf, he drags his Snake back. Six years after she ran away, Y/N Rumlow is faced with a choice to make; do as she’s told and kill the White Wolf or overtake her father instead because spite’s as good a reason to take his power?

warnings: cursing, violence, weapons, mentions of past abuse, people getting hurt, Bucky being too hot to handle

word count: 2.5k

Tag list @kandis-mom @casa-boiardi @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @cakesandtom @unaxv @hidden-treasures21 @vonalyn

Two | series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest. The women in the banners are not how Y/N is supposed to look. They are merely for aesthetic purposes and Y/N is written vaguely enough for anyone to see themselves in her.

Jasmine liked to use a boar bristle brush and oil to style Y/N’s hair when she was growing up. It started as a daily ritual with Y/N sitting between her legs while she worked the oil into her ends and brushed it into a braid. Sometimes if Victoria was nearby, Jasmine would do hers too but as Brock became more “present” he made her stop. He hated the smell of the oils and complained about how greasy it made his daughters look. As time passed and he became more harsh with his words (and fists), Jasmine started to only do it at night before they all went to bed. When the girls awoke in the morning, the oil wouldn’t be as noticeable, and thus Brock became none the wiser.

Now without her mother’s gentle singing and tender hands, Y/N does the ritual on her own with her boar bristle brush in hand and oil in the other. She hums the songs Jasmine would sing as she slicks back her hair into a braided ponytail. The oil causes the light to reflect off and blind those who look at her the wrong way while the sleek manner doesn’t leave room for mistakes. Brock, the ever controlling man he is, demanded that she wear jewelry to make her appear more “girly and less threatening.” She wanted to roll her eyes at his appraisal of her normal appearance but decided that that was not the battle she wanted to fight for the moment.

Victoria lended her a pair of tiered gold hoops and tried to get her to take more but Y/N refused. The years of training that their father had put them through stayed carved into her brain and she couldn’t shake the voice that screamed at her “Anything that isn’t essential to the mission will hold you back.”

After she ties an elastic on the end of her braid, she grips the edge of the bathroom counter and stares at her reflection. Before her is a woman that she barely recognizes not because her makeup or hair is different. The woman looking back is full of malice and misery, ready to explode on the next person who wrongs her. Granted she had been hiding in Phoenix but she was healing and felt like she might find inner peace soon. The moment she stepped foot in New York, she had been transported back to the teenager she had been before she left and it pained her to feel that way again.

Rather than feeling sorry for herself anymore, Y/N tears her eyes away and looks at the dress he gave her laying in her bed. No one knew that he had even been there, let alone left behind something akin to a gift. It shocked her that not even John noticed the blacked out car but then again, he seems more focused on watching her than the outside of the house.

Her alarm rings, letting her know that she needs to be downstairs in the next 15 minutes or John will banging on her door.

And 15 minutes on the dot, he is doing just that. She finishes putting on her heels and stands, brushing off her dress before opening the door. John goes to say something probably snarky and rude about keeping him waiting but he stands there with his mouth open, no words coming out.

“Are my brother and sister ready?” Y/N asks, mildly annoyed at the way he obviously looks her up and down.

“Wha…what?” he stutters, shaking his head to himself.

She repeats her question as she pushes him back and closes the door behind her. He doesn’t get time to answer before Victoria and Niklaus call out to her from the foyer. Both are dressed to the nines with Niklaus in an all black suit and Victoria in a deep purple corset dress. She eyes Y/N and huffs for a moment as she crosses her arms.

“Well that’s rude. You’re not wearing the dress I picked out for you AND you didn’t even tell me that you were going to match with Niklaus.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t even told that we were going to be matching,” Niklaus pipes up as he tries to hide his smirk.

Y/N gives her sister a bored look, “I’m sorry I didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb wearing a bright green dress.”

“It was emerald with a shimmery overlay. Excuse me if I wanted you to look like a model for once,” Victoria shoots back as she further inspects Y/N’s dress, “Where did you get this? I don’t remember it.”

“Oh,” she freezes for a second and meets Nikalus’ watchful gray eyes, “I packed it. I figured I was going to need something fancy.”

“How is a plain black dress ‘fancy?’”

Niklaus saves her and speaks for her, “Black dresses are timeless, Vic. Now let’s go. I’d rather not listen to our father complain about us being late.”

Victoria loops her arm in Y/N and whispers more about how the green dress was her favorite but this one is good too. They chuckle with each other and Y/N catches John’s eye for a second. A wave of unease washes over her but she shakes it off.

Now is not the time to worry about other people’s emotions. Right now she needs to focus on the plan that Niklaus put together to kill the White Wolf and where to hide the weapons that he’s handing out in the car.

Ear piece in place, Y/N has to endure the sounds of Victoria laughing and flirting with every man who looks her way. Niklaus occasionally begs her to shut up so they can focus but to no avail. She keeps up her charade of an interested party goer and gets some of the men to tell her where their target is. Those poor souls who give her what she wants are left wanting more as she blows them kisses and winks as she disappears into the crowd.

She slides next to Y/N at the bar with an empty martini glass in hand, “He’s upstairs.”

Y?n glances at her before following her eyes to the staircase where at least ten men are guarding the upper level.

“We have ear transmitters for a reason,” she says without taking her eyes off of the men.

“I know but I like talking to people. It’s weird talking to myself.”

Niklaus’ voice crackles into their ears, “Victoria, find Y/N a way upstairs and past the guards. I won’t be far behind but please for the love of god don’t stand right next to each other.”

“Nic, they already know who we are and what we’re here to do probably so why does it matter?” Victoria shoots back.

“Because we need to at least make an attempt before getting killed ourselves.”

“Fine,” she says with a flare of drama like normal as she pushes off of the bar and sneaks back into the crowd. Y/N goes to do the same but Steve appears at her side with a hand wrapped around her bicep and stops her.

“Excuse me,” she sneers before she looks up to see who it is.

“Hello again, Ms. Juárez,” he smiles down at her, “Rumlow, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That hasn’t be my name for years.”

“I don’t think your father would agree.”

“My father can shove it.”

With his hand still on her arm, he pulls her closer to him as he says, “Your sister was right.” “About?” she says back, hiding the underlying fear that is starting to boil up.

“We know that you’re here and why.”

“Oh?”

“Ear transmitters are so 1990s,” he says as he plucks it from her ear and crushes it between his fingers.

She nods, desperately trying to search for Niklaus or Victoria in the crowd but comes up empty handed. Steve sees this and directs her attention to the staircase where they’re being led up by a group of men.

“I have to admit, I’m disappointed that there wasn’t any fighting before we caught you three with you being the Snake after all,” he whispers into her ear as he tugs her along in the same direction, “Your father made it sound like you were going to be the end of all his enemies if they crossed him but you know, I don’t see that.”

“There’s something to being patient.”

“Patient or killing time so you don’t have to do this? Maybe you don’t have what it takes?”

“People die everyday, all I do is speed up the process.”

Steve chuckles as he drags her up the stairs, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your little phone call with Boss made things complicated.”

“Good thing you don’t know shit,” she hisses and tries to jerk her arm away but he grips it even tighter and presses a gun to her lower back.

“You’re wearing the dress he gave you, I think that’s evidence of some complication. Too bad your father is a fucking dumbass. Maybe things would’ve ended up differently.”

“Are you implying he would’ve arranged some bull shit political marriage with your boss and me? I’m not some mob princess. I don’t submit to men like you two.”

“Id love the chance to try but boss on the other hand. He loves fiery girls like you.”

Y/N takes a deep breath before spinning around, gripping the gun and turning it so it’s pointed at Steve, “Too bad we’re not in some teenage girl’s fantasy land and he won’t get a chance. Where are Niklaus and Victoria? We’re leaving now and you will not follow us.” Steve leans down so he’s inches from her face with a wolfish grin on his own, “You’re not in a position to be negotiating, little snake.”

With that he shoves her through a door and she stumbles into a room full of men armed to the t. The siblings in question are tied to chairs in the center with fully automatic guns trained on them. The man she saw drop the gift box stands between them wearing a quite bored expression. Steve closes the door and shoves her shoulder again further into the room before forcing her to sit in her own chair that faces her siblings.

His hot breath fans over the side of her face as he leans down, “Play nice.”

Y/N spits in his face and he drags a hand down to wipe it away as he lets out a terrifying belly laugh. The other man produces a pocket knife and swiftly brings it down on Victoria’s hand. She lets out a wail of pain and screams for them to be let go while Y/N looks at her with no emotion.

“Are you going to behave now?” Steve asks her and she nods slightly, “Good I would hate to ruin her pretty face.”

“That’s enough,” another male voice calls from behind her. It feels familiar but in a way that makes her skin crawl and her flight or fight response activate. The harsh and thick weight of it forces her lungs to expel their air but that undertone she couldn’t place reveals itself; there’s a sense of chaos that lives in the deep baritones of his voice. She shutters briefly when she hears his shoes hit the hard wood as he walks up to her. He sets his cold hands on her shoulders, chilling her to her core but she straightens up and keeps her head held high.

“I see you’re wearing my dress,” he whispers to her and her only, “You look gorgeous in it, dragă, far more beautiful than I could’ve imagined.”

She wants to shake his hands off and forget the compliments but she can’t. His hands squeeze her shoulders as if he’s going to let go but he doesn’t and instead he starts to speak to her siblings.

“Niklaus,” he says in a condescending tone, “I’m disappointed in you. Of all the plans that you could’ve come up with, this one is the one you went with?” Niklaus casts his eyes to the ground in shame because he knew better, he knew this would end badly but still he went through with it.

“And Victoria, ever the minx. You weren’t even subtle with it, asking anyone who would listen where I was,” Y/N can feel his gaze shift to her, “and you, my little snake. You were a breath of fresh air albeit underwhelming. Given all of the stories your father has told me, I expected far more than this half assed attempt. I’m tempted to let you all go and make you fight for the excitement.”

Victoria cries harder at his words and everyone can feel the White Wolf roll his eyes at her weak try at gaining sympathy. Steven even yawns at how bored he is while the other man between them shifts on his feet.

“Sam,” the White Wolf says to that man, “take the knife out.”

He does as he’s told and unceremoniously rips the knife out, causing Victoria to crumble forward as much as her binds will allow and sob even louder.

The White Wolf lets out a disapproving sigh and grips at Y/N’s shoulders again to get her attention.

“I’ll let your brother and sister go,” he starts as he lets her go and circles so that she can finally see him up close, “if you agree to help me kill your father.”

“Careful boss, she likes to spit,” Steve piped up but it falls on deaf ears.

The man crouching before her is striking in an unsettling way and that feeling increases tenfold with the way he’s solely focused on her. She finds it in herself to speak and in the meantime she prays that her voice isn’t shaking when she asks about what more he wants from her.

“That’s all.”

“That can’t be all. There’s always more.”

“No really that’s all; I’ll let them go on the condition that you help me kill Brock but if you try to pull one over on me, I will make their deaths long and painful. I might even have you do it, depends on how I feel that day,” he says with a smile and a casual tone that makes her want to punch him.

Y/N scoffs at his proposal, “i can’t believe you.”

He furrows his thick brows at her. “You already lied to me. You said there was nothing else but then proceeded to add that you’d kill my brother and sister if I don’t help you.”

His tongue pokes at the inside of his lower lip before it darts out and wets his lips, “Well you caught me there but that doesn’t change my deal; help me and they live or don’t and they die.”

“Y/N don’t do it,” Niklaus shouts from behind them, “Please don’t do it.”

An annoyed look takes over the White Wolf’s face and he says something to Sam in another language. Exactly what was said doesn’t matter because Sam slams the butt of a gun into Niklau’s temple and renders him unconscious. Victoria chokes on another cry and Sam does the same to her. Y/N’s nose flares in anger and she tries to jump forward but Steve holds her in place.

The White Wolf grips her chin and forces her attention back to him, “Deal or no deal, little snake?”

“I don’t do business with fucking pricks like you,” she spits out and his grip gets tighter.

“Your future won’t be too bright if you don’t lower your business standards. I’ll ask again and if I have to ask a third time, I’ll just shoot them.”

Y/N stares into his soulless blue eyes and searches for any hint of humanity left.

She finds nothing.

“Deal.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #mob au #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #as good a reason bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #marvel #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 1 year

Text

Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [36]

chapter thirty-six, act five: the ballad of me and my brain

masterlist

little Author's note /TW before this act begins. There's going to be alot of talk of drug use and addiction within the chapters coming, if you're not comfortable with these kinds of things please don't read.

January 14th 2017

Tommie yawns, one big loud yawn as she shuffles through her house to the front door.

Gabby grins when it’s opened and tugs her little suitcase in behind her. “Hey, babes.”

“Gabs? What are you doing here?”

Gabby sighs, “I miss my best mate, is that a crime?” She asks kicking her shoes off and lining them up neatly besides Tommie who quickly shakes her head and opens her arms for a hug, “Haven’t seen you since Christmas, I missed you.”

Tommie smiles, breathing in slowly as she accepts the hug from her friend. “Okay, I have so much planned for us, tonight is movie night, tomorrow I’m driving us to Cardiff and we’re having a shopping day, monday we’re going to go to the cinema, I haven’t decided on tuesday yet, struggling between a pamper day and a trip to a beach, but that might be too cold now I’m thinking about it.”

“Okay, let’s start with movie day-”

“Okay, but I’m picking. I cannot watch Fantastic Mr Fox again.”

“But it’s my favourite.”

“It’s the only film you watch besides Revenge of the Sith.”

“They’re good films.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾

The flashes are bright, too bright and she’d forgotten her sunglasses to protect herself from them.

The bag on her shoulder weighs her down more than everyone else, her laptop, books, writing books, hoodie and a pair of shoes she couldn’t fit into her suitcase make their weight known against her muscles.

Ross’ body blocks some of the light, but when he’s moved over by Jamie and towards the side her shield is gone.

The screams of teenage girls are too loud as they push against the old creaking barrier to try and get closer to Matty, he’s upfront, sunglasses and leather jacket on looking like a guy out of a Corey Hart song.

He revels in the attention whereas Tommie hates it, shying away as much as she can, hiding into the darkness of her hoodie as her hands fumble with the strap of her bag.

Then someone is breaking over the barrier, she can’t tell who gets over first, the fan or the rogue photographer.

They both shove each other, the poor teenage girl is on the floor, Tommie’s standing there above her, photographer’s camera in her face.

Without thinking she’s shoving the camera away, it clatters and smashes on the floor, hitting the girl who’s being helped up by other fans.

“Tommie! Tommie!”

Hands are gripping her from both sides of the barriers, the walkway hasn't been made big enough. Strangers are touching her and she holds her breath not to be sick right there.

“Tommie! Matty!”

Someone gripped her and pulled her into them, arms wrapped around and guiding her into the van, straight into the back.

George sits beside her, holding her hand in his lap as the rest pile in, Matty coming in last after signing a few screaming fans shirts.

Matty raises his brows as he peers over the drummer, but George shakes his head, wraps one arm around her, tugs her into his side and blocks her from the singer’s view.

“Tom.”

“Leave her be, Matty.”

“You alright?”

He ignores George and moves his arm to brush his knuckles across the top of her head, reaching around the back of George awkwardly to do it.

“Matty-”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

George elbows him, giving him a look that he once again ignores.

“I’m fine, Matt.”

Her tone is sharp, and he leans back, taking his arm away and resting his hands in his lap. “Okay, I was just asking.”

“You’re always just asking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ross looks between them slowly, the tension has been building between them for weeks and no one knows why.

Adam gives one harsh look to Matty and he’s pausing, shrinking back in his seat and mumbles an apology. “I jus-” He cuts himself off before he can finish the word, “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾

February 21st 2017

“Just be honest with me, Jamie. Be brutal. It’s bad.”

Jamie sighs, “It can easily be fixed.” He assures, “I’m sure Matty will do something bad next week.”

She sighs and leans forward, head in her hands, Adam moving to rub up and down her back, “God, this is bad.”

“It’s fine, it’ll blow over.”

“Yeah, but I-”

“So what? Have you seen the way the Gallaghers act? Or any other mildly popular artists? People have done worse.”

She looks at the newspaper on the table. An article about her blowing off the fans at the airport, talks of assault as she’d accidentally shoved someone in a hurry to the awaiting car.

The truth was the flight had been bad, she’d been seated beside Matty, the pair still haven’t talked since he showed up at her house, and with the show after show after show routine she’d already been on edge.

It’s all falling apart. Something she used to be so good at, touring endlessly with no rest, is no longer her strong suit.

And to top it off, she hasn’t seen Button in two months, the dog has been staying with her grandparents back in South Wales to give her a break from moving around.

Usually articles like these would mean nothing to Tommie, she’d brush it aside with a half-arsed shrug.

But it's the fact they’re dragging Caleb and his band down with her, knowing the 1975 are far too popular around the world to be touched by a little article they’ve targeted Dirty Delights.

She knows they probably won’t see this. It’s a European news outlet, there’s no chance, right?

Nope.

Caleb had called her the moment it came out.

That’s why she’s panicking.

She doesn’t want to ruin Caleb’s career before it’s even begun.

George sighs, finally sitting down, “It’ll be forgotten next week. They’ll start talking about Taylor Swift again or a shitty Kardashian boob job or something, don’t worry.”

She sighs, “What if this ruins Caleb’s career?”

“What career?” Comes a snort from across the room.

Ross smiles, but it's quickly dropped when he sees the glare that Tommie is sending to Matty across the room.

“I can’t be the reason his band fails before they’ve even had the chance to start.”

“They’ve had plenty of chances, they’re the ones who's fucking up. I wouldn’t lose sleep over it.”

“Matty-” Adam tries but Tommie’s standing now.

“You’re forgetting you guys were in a band for ten years before you got the chance.”

“Yeah, but we had fans. People who’d turn up to our gigs-”

“Oh, you mean your groupies who’d give you money to suck you di-”

“Alright.” It’s Gabby who’s breaking them up, brows raised as she looks between them weirdly, she sighs as she moves to Matty pushing him back down, “Shut up.” She tells him as she moves to sit on the other side of Tommie, bringing her back down to rub her arms.

“Give it a few days, ignore it, don’t comment on it. You get things like this all the time.”

She shrugs, picking at her jeans as she nods, “I know.”

“Never usually bothers you like this.”

“I know.”

Matty’s jaw wiggles as he watches his girlfriend comfort Tommie quietly, arms around her with Tommie resting her head on her shoulder.

The door opens then, Caleb steps in, eyes falling to his girlfriend who sits up quickly. He smiles walking over to greet her and she stands as he hugs her.

He mutters a ‘don't worry about it all, we’ll talk later’ and she nods quickly.

Then Jamie's standing too, “Come on, five minutes and you’re all on.”

On her way out he grabs her hand, “I’ll sort it.”

“Thank you.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ

“I’m sorry.”

Caleb shrugs as they enter their hotel room in London, he sheds his jacket hanging it on the chair and starts unlacing his shoes.

“It was all too much, everything, I-”

“Babe.”

He turns, holding his hands out for her and she slowly accepts it, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault, I know how you get.”

“How I get?”

He nods, wincing at his words of choice, “You know what I mean.”

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Well, you’re… different, Tommie.”

“Different?”

He sighs, bowing his head, “I’m not winning this no matter what I say so whatever it is you’re building up to just get it out with.”

“I just want to know what you mean.” She says, knowing full well she does in fact know what he means, and she also is in fact building up to say something.

She sighs looking down, “I’ve always been called different, Caleb, but what does that mean?”

He sighs slowly, “You’re just… not like everyone else.” She raises a brow and he sighs, “It’s not a bad thing.”

She nods, then steps back shedding her blouse and jeans to put on her pyjamas.

“Tommie.” He says, watching her carefully, “You’re just a little more… I don’t know, sensitive I guess.”

“Sensitive?”

“Yeah. But also weirdly emotionless at the same time.” He says looking up at thought.

“I’m not different.” She says, as she glances up over his head at the mirror hanging on the wall to stare at herself. Picking apart everything, her straightened hair, the makeup still on her face, the gold necklace he got her for her birthday, the bags under her eyes, the little scar on her eyebrow from when she hit her head as a kid. It’s not her. It’s Caleb.

Straightened hair because he likes it like that, makeup left over despite how hard she’s scrubbed her face because she put so much on to hide the bags given to her by sleepless nights made no better by his comforting hands, a golden necklace replacing her favourite silver one because he caused an argument when she didn't wear it. The scar on her eyebrow he points out way too much, that he avoids touching when his fingers trace her features.

“I’m just me.”

Caleb watches her as she climbs into bed and hangs his head, “Tommie…”

“Goodnight, Caleb. Big day tomorrow.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#show me yours matty healy #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 x oc

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