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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years ago

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Sorry for Not Winning You an Arcade Ring | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Barnes!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 8.7k (should I even apologize at this point?)

✦ summary — your ex-boyfriend comes back into your life the moment you finally meet your dad — although things are complicated, your feelings are intact.

✦ request — Could I please ask for a story where reader is Bucky’s daughter and she used to date Joaquin but they broke up and then when she meets Bucky they get back together? Angst and drama and fluff and something steamy but no smut please?

✦ warnings — angst, drama, mentions of food and beverages, mentions of violence, language, depiction of symptoms of mental illnesses and light depiction of abandonment issues, daddy issues, fluff.

✦ author's note — coney island (the song) doesn’t have much to do with the fic, but I couldn’t take that line out of my head and thought it was fitting. Next Joaquín fic will be the one where reader used to date Peter, I promise.

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Joaquín swallowed with difficulty. His saliva had become unbearably thick in seconds. As he stood in front of the building, the building that now looked taller than it really was, he felt an itch in his neck.

Sam gripped Bucky’s nape, encouraging him to lead the way inside the building. Bucky was as frozen as Joaquín.

The older man was speechless. Joaquín, however, was not. “Are you sure this is the right building?” he rasped the question directed to Sam.

“One hundred percent.”

Joaquín nodded. The world was small, and he didn’t want to find out just truly how smaller it could get. “I’ll wait here.”

Bucky shook his head. Joaquín’s stomach dropped. He wanted to be there for Bucky, Sam had told him how important this was for him — when he agreed, Joaquín didn’t know he would come back to this place by supporting Bucky.

Connecting dots had never been hard, much less now that it was part of his job, yet he wanted to be mistaken.

“Let’s get this over with, boys.” Sam patted Joaquín’s shoulder. His other hand was still on Bucky’s nape, and by the looks of his grip, he wouldn’t let go.

Joaquín knew exactly what Sam was doing and he wished he had somebody to stabilize him too. “I’ll lead the way,” he mumbled.

“I have to talk to the—“

“There’s no need,” Joaquín interrupted.

Pushing the main door open, he nodded down at the security guard. Still the same old guy. The man smiled, nodding upward as though asking if Sam and Bucky were with him.

“They’re cool,” he assured the guard.

“It’s good to see you,” the guard told him, still smiling.

“You too.”

Joaquín slanted his head, motioning for Bucky and Sam to follow him. He walked past the elevator, explaining, “The elevator is always broken.”

Sam frowned. “We’ll take the stairs, then.”

Their steps, silent yet heavy, carried nerves and apprehension. Joaquín didn’t know how to explain himself or he should even try to do it, Bucky was scared of being rejected, and Sam knew Bucky wouldn’t recover quickly from this.

Joaquín leaned over to look at the paper in Sam’s hand. The number scribbled on it confirmed his suspicions.

“I—“ God, he couldn’t back down now. “Who will do the talking?”

“I will,” Bucky said in a quiet voice. “I just need you two there.”

“Yeah, man, no problem.” Joaquín was thankful his voice didn’t crack.

Bucky lifted his fist, yet his knuckles didn’t touch the door. Not yet. Joaquín felt cruel for wishing Bucky would take longer.

The knocking wasn’t desperate as Joaquín had anticipated. Perhaps Bucky wanted to make a good impression, or perhaps he was wishing nobody would answer the door.

The door opened and Joaquín found himself frozen. Stuck between running away and pulling you into the tightest hug you had ever received.

The euphoria of seeing you again was overwhelming and bittersweet. You looked good. You had always looked good in his eyes.

You were speechless. He wasn’t sure if it was because of him or because of Bucky.

Sam said a soft hi to fill the air, only making it worse for Bucky and unbeknownst to him, for Joaquín.

You stared at him, trying your hardest to smile although the muscles in your face didn’t give in. Eyes moving to Bucky, you found yourself rudely staring.

He did the same. Nobody said anything for a while. Three pairs of eyes were on you, and your brain couldn’t seem to function.

You had looked for him for years, in different countries, finding rejection in every corner of every big and small city alike.

Your gaze deviated to the other side where Joaquín was standing. You picked on Sam’s shift, sandwiched between the other two men.

Joaquín tried to hold your gaze, but you looked away.

“Uh...” you trailed off, eyes jumping from Bucky to Sam. They stopped for a moment before deviating again towards Joaquín. “Come in.”

There weren’t any pictures left in the living room, instead you had filled the spaces with ceramics and trinkets.

You had the same colorful couch Joaquín once spilled coffee on, and the same cozy chairs you had bought online by mistake.

”I should have introduced myself...” Sam trailed off.

“I know who you are,” you assured him. “Nat talked a lot about you.”

“You met Nat?”

“She came looking for me no longer after people disappeared. Maybe two months.”

You motioned for them to sit. Bucky and Sam did so on the same couch whereas Joaquín walked towards a chair. Your cat jumped onto the chair before he could take a seat.

The cat looked up at him and meowed.

“Fatatita,” you chastised the cat. “Let him sit down.”

Before you could approach the couch to pick the cat up, Joaquín lifted her in his arms. He sat down and placed her on his lap.

The cat curled up there, spiting you.

You sat on the other chair, closer to Bucky and Sam.

“Do you know who I am?” Bucky asked. So timidly you barely heard him.

You nodded.

“What else do you know?”

“Not much. You— you’re my dad and nobody knows who my mom is.”

Bucky looked down. “I’m assuming Natasha told you.”

“No.” You made a face, remembering that day like it was yesterday. “Somebody sent me an uncensored file. They probably wanted me to track The Winter Soldier down and make their job easier.”

“But you didn’t.”

You couldn’t tell if he was offended or relieved. “I actually did. I poured a lot of money into it and it never paid off. I lost track of you after Siberia.”

Joaquín squirmed around on the chair at the mention of Siberia.

Siberia practically ruined your life. Picking yourself up had not only been hard but something you hadn’t even been sure you wanted to do. Things had lost meaning. The only reason you were still here was your stubbornness.

Sam curiously asked, “Were you trained or something?”

“Not thoroughly. I’ve always been fat so I was useless in their eyes.”

Bucky sighed. “Sounds like them.”

You didn’t expect anything else from a terrorist organization.

“Oh! I didn’t offer you anything to drink...”

“I’m good,” Sam and Bucky answered at the same time.

You hesitated before turning to the other side. Joaquín barely shook his head. His fingers were buried in Fatatita’s fur as the cat laid on his lap with her eyes lidded closed.

“So... to what do I owe the visit?”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Well, I wanted to meet you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You had assumed he needed something from you. Knowing he wanted to meet you made your decade-long sacrifice and the heartbreak almost worth it.

“I was saving up for a trip to Brooklyn. I heard you were around there.”

“Yeah. It’s home again.” The glance he gave Sam didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You wondered if you’d be in the same situation they were if things had been different.

Home was a foreign concept to you. The word didn’t even feel real no matter how many times you said it in your head.

════════════════════════

Outdoor cafes weren’t really your style. However, you could admit the place Bucky and Sam had taken you was nice.

You took his offer to visit him and Sam for a week. Working from home was a pain in the ass sometimes in terms of organization, but it had given you the ability to look for him from the beginning.

The square table shook as Bucky placed his metal hand on it. “Would you stop texting?” He chastised Sam who was sat in front of you.

“It’s something urgent. I wouldn’t be interrupting family bonding time if it wasn’t, you know that.”

Sam’s comment was the end of it. Bucky reclined back onto the chair and gave you a small smile.

Oh, so Sam truly meant the family part. Family — a magical word that evoked foreign sensations in the pit of your stomach.

Sam’s cellphone started ringing. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” he announced as he declined the call.

Both Bucky and you followed Sam with your gazes. Your stomach flipped as Sam greeted Joaquín.

Sam smiled. “You got it so quickly?”

Joaquín nodded as he tried his best to not look your way. Sam took the envelope from Joaquín’s grasp.

He could hear your laugh as though you were giggling in his ear like you used to and the temptation was too much for him to handle. He was only human.

Bucky was laughing too, seemingly at something you had said. Joaquín didn’t blame him, it was easy to like you, to laugh with you, to regret every second not spent with you.

“Okay,” Sam sighed. “I didn’t want to ask, but I can’t bite my tongue any longer... what’s up with that face and those eyes you’re giving (Name)? You did the same—“ He groaned. “Don’t tell me...”

“I won’t tell you,” Joaquín tried to joke.

“Shit, man. What happened?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.”

“Mmmh. Why don’t you join us?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea...”

“Please? I need you for this.” Sam waved the envelope. “But I promised I’d have coffee with them. She just got here.”

Joaquín hesitated to answer. On one hand, he knew Sam would need his help; on the other, he didn’t want to ruin whatever you had going with your dad.

“Come on,” Sam insisted. “Bucky is paying.”

Your eyes were on them as they approached the table. Sam once again took the seat in front of you, leaving Joaquín to seat practically next to you.

You wanted to flip the table and scream yet you remained in your seat, neutral and borderline frozen.

Sam leaned over to say something to Bucky. They were close enough for you to hear, but your ear didn’t pick it up.

You stood up from the table, surprising yourself more than you surprised the three men accompanying you. “I’ll place our order,” you announced.

The place was pretty in its simplicity, only decorated with coffee and pastry themed artwork. Functionality had been a priority and by how busy the place was, you could only presume they had succeeded.

There was a couple all over each other next to the window and a group of friends doing homework three tables from them. Laptops could be seen everywhere, just like people checking their phones.

You had to wait in line to place the order and the line was already building behind you too. The couple all over each other didn’t even seem to realize somebody was staring at them and if they did, they couldn’t care less.

You took a glance outside where Bucky was chatting with Joaquín while Sam made a phone call.

Sam slipped his phone into his pocket. “I didn’t give her my order... do any of you want to add anything?”

“I gave it to her,” Bucky assured him. “We thought you would take longer.”

Joaquín feigned interest in his phone. He had already read all of his messages, but he wanted to avoid the comment building in Sam’s mind. He could only hope his friend will keep it to himself.

He felt your presence as you sat back down. “There are two orders above ours. They will bring it to us.”

“Did you ask for extra milk?” Bucky asked.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. My acid reflux has been giving me trouble.”

“Because you eat too quickly,” Sam chimed in.”

You lifted both eyebrows. “You could have ordered tea.”

“Absolutely not.”

You snickered. Joaquín snorted. Instinctively, the two of you turned to the side to look at each other.

Something flashed in his eyes, the same you fell for that hazy summer. They were still warm, albeit tired now. As they became glossy while he held your gaze, you wondered if yours looked the same. You wondered if he had something to say and hoped he wouldn’t find the courage. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take it.

The order arrived, shattering the moment.

“Thank you,” Joaquín said, staring at you.

“No problem,” you rasped. Fuck.

“We’re hoping to convince her to move closer to us,” Bucky said, not subtle at all, as he took a sip of his beverage.

Joaquín followed the circumference of the mug with his finger in clockwork motion. “Good luck.”

“Thank you. I want to make up for lost time and the distance makes it difficult.”

“Videocalls are quite effective,” you reminded him.

Joaquín winced. His finger slipped into the beverage.

Bucky tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

“It’s hot.”

“Well, it’s coffee,” Sam stated the obvious.

You couldn’t take Joaquín’s reaction off your mind. Not even on the way to Sam’s and Bucky’s place.

Sam said he’d be home by dinner time. He also warned you to not let Bucky cook. You couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh.

The guest room was practically the same as the one in your apartment. Same size, and a close enough layout.

Bucky had a proper look at your luggage. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring more clothes.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know. Your apartment is so well-decorated that I assumed things.”

If only he knew how hard it had been to replace the remains of Joaquín... “I did it at random, just trying to fill empty spaces.” You lightly changed the subject, “I like your couch, by the way.”

“Sam hated it at first, but he has grown fond of it.”

You faked a chuckle, prompting your cat to lift her head. Sprawled on the bed, she stared at you.

“Comfy, Fatatita?” You reached over to scratch her head.

“How did you come up with her name?”

“Count Von Count’s cat is named Fatatita. It’s an homage.”

“Count Von Count?”

“From Sesame Street. He’s a vampire obsessed with numbers and he’s also a Count.”

You sat on the bed, pulling Fatatita onto your lap.

Bucky sat on the edge, twisted so he could look at you. “Sooooooo...”

“So...”

“Where do you know Torres from? You had a weird moment there.”

You hummed, entertaining yourself with combing your cat’s fur.

Bucky didn’t let it go. “Now that I think about it, you knew his coffee order without asking...”

“Intuition.”

“Does your cat have intuition too?”

“Probably. They’re curious creatures.”

“You can tell me anything, (Name).”

”That’s the thing, there’s nothing to say,” you admitted. “Whatever you’re assuming is pretty much what happened.”

“I will kill him for cheating.”

“What?!” Seeing him cross his arms with a faint smirk on his face, you added, “You know what? Do it. You’re not making me talk.”

He let out a hybrid between a whine and a sigh. “I thought that one would work.”

“If you must know, the breakup was shitty.”

“Touchy subject, got it.”

Touchy would never cut it and you couldn’t understand why. “Do you remember any of your breakups?”

“From when I was a teen, yeah. But I don’t think they were bad.”

“Oh, so you were the one who ended the relationships.”

After a short silence, he admitted, “Yeah.”

Your body shook with laughter. ”At least you’re honest.”

════════════════════════

After an hour and a half of working on your computer, you decided to stretch and fix yourself a cup of coffee or tea. 9:00 AM was the perfect time to drink something other than water.

The door to the bathroom closed as you opened the guest room. The living room was empty, just like the kitchen.

Such a thing didn’t last. Somebody called on the door. Bucky hurried to open the door,

You heard Joaquín’s voice. “Is Sam ready?”

“Come in. He’s taking a shower.”

Great! Just who you didn’t want to see. Why was he even here? He should’ve been doing whatever he did in Las Vegas, not ruining your family bonding time.

Your cellphone rang in your hand just as you had finished pouring coffee in a mug. Seeing your neighbor’s contact name, you took the call immediately.

“Hey, Ben. Everything okay?”

Your neighbor giggled. You knew it was fake as always. “Hey, pretty girl. Where have you been? I made your favorite pastries yesterday but you didn’t answer the door.”

You ignored the pet name. “Oh! That’s very sweet of you. I’m out of town right now.”

“Ah.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Is your cat by itself?”

“No, no. I brought Fatatita with me and my best friend is taking care of my plants.”

“Well, then,” Ben said drily, “call me if you need anything.”

“Thank you. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Joaquín rolled his eyes. Oh, so he was listening in, huh.

“I’ll hold you up to that,” Ben said.

The line clicked and once again you couldn’t take your eyes off Joaquín who was glaring at you.

“What?” you snapped.

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You hummed. He nodded. Neither of you gave signs of tearing your eyes off each other.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope.” You took the mug in your grasp. “I was just about to get back to work.”

Walking past him still hurt, maybe less than the last time, but that wasn’t saying much when he shattered your heart that day.

What was his fucking problem? First, he barged back into your life without warning, and then dared to give you that look as if you still owed him explanations for how friendly you were with other people?

The nerve of him! Of his stupid pretty eyes you were sure nobody could say no to.

Fuck. Fuck him. Fuck this. You were tired of not getting over him when he had no consideration of what you wanted or needed. He was the one who led you on by making you believe everything would go back to normal.

Had you made a mistake by breaking up with him to go look for your dad instead of asking him to go with you? Maybe, but at least you didn’t make him believe everything would be okay.

At least you had the decency to admit you had fucked up when you went back to him. At least you didn’t try to impose your wishes on him.

Now your day was ruined and you still had a shit ton of work to get through. Approaching the bed, you picked Fatatita up and hugged her to your chest.

You technically could have asked Bucky for a hug, he had said he wanted to make up for lost time, but you didn’t know him that well and it was embarrassing.

Begging for affection was something you were past of. You had taken care of yourself since you were 14, and learned the hard way that people didn’t deserve your tears.

Still, hot tears streamed down your face. You weren’t sure if you were angry, sad, or frustrated, but you wept until your cat forced you to let go of her.

If Bucky knew you had been crying, he surely know how to keep it to himself. You had lunch together between idle chats and nothing more happened.

You couldn’t get used to him, no matter how hard you tried or how much interest he showed in getting to know you.

Tearing down the wall you had built for years didn’t even sound easy to do, actually doing it seemed impossible as of now.

“I gotta run a few errands,” he told you as you carried the dishes to the sink, “wanna come with me?”

“I haven’t finished my work for the day.”

His face fell. “Next time.”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Bucky gave you a tight smile and so you watched him leave with a weird feeling in your stomach. Was this how children felt when they saw their parents leave for work?

Sam didn’t take long to arrive. You didn’t have the full grasp of what they truly did, the superhero part was clear, but you didn’t know if that was their job or their side gig.

He greeted you with a smile. Trying his best just like Bucky.

“Bucky’s running errands,” you notified him.

“Yeah, Joaquín told me he called. I forgot my damn phone in the morning.”

“Oh...” You didn’t know what to say.

Sam sat on the yellow couch he used to hate. “Piece of advice?”

You braced yourself for the same thing your best friend had told you. ‘Joaquín doesn’t deserve your hostility.’

“Don’t call him Bucky to his face.”

“Wh—“ It took you a minute or two to process what he had said. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he told you softly. His eyes were on you, analyzing you. “Are you okay?”

“Lots of new things at once... I’m not good with...” You bit your bottom lip. “Work is driving me crazy,” you lied.

Sam pensively hummed and you knew he wouldn’t touch the subject again. He probably knew you were lying, and he’d surely tell Bucky, but what could you do?

Well, you left Brooklyn in a hurry. Your bags had been made for days when the date finally arrived. Relief washed over you the moment you stepped into that plane.

Bucky’s feelings worried you, that was true, but you felt out of place in his and Sam’s apartment. They had been welcoming and kind, and the fact that they weren’t the problem stung.

As a teen you fantasized with everything you would do and say when you found your dad, but adulthood had crashed onto you in a giant wave. It washed away the naive illusion of one day having a normal life; a family.

You called him as soon as you got to your apartment. “Just wanted to let you know I made it safely.”

“That’s good to hear.” The line shuffled. “How’s the weather?”

“Fine, I think?”

“Sunny?”

“Kinda cloudy. It’s drizzling.”

“Ah.”

“Hey, I— I gotta go. I’ll call you soon, yeah?”

Bucky craned his neck as he looked up to the ceiling. “Yeah. Take care.”

You hung up immediately.

“What am I doing wrong?” Bucky asked out loud.

Sam threw his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. “Nothing. Just give her time.”

“We should get her a job here,” Bucky suggested. “Maybe that way she’ll move closer to us.”

Joaquín shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I forgot you’re an expert on her,” Bucky bitterly said.

Joaquín turned to look at Sam. His friend didn’t help him out and instead said, “You could ask her first.”

“Should I?” Bucky asked Joaquín.

Shrugging, Joaquín stood up from his seat and took his jacket. “I think we all know the answer she’ll give.”

“If you had told me where she was when we met—“

“I didn’t know you were her dad,” Joaquín snapped. He looked down, frustrated with himself for letting Bucky get to him when it wasn’t his fault either.

“You dated her.”

“Look, she didn’t tell me who her dad was. I just knew she was looking for him.”

Bucky was left speechless. Joaquín put his jacket on and walked towards the door.

“Joaquín...”

“Not now, Sam.” He pulled the door open and left the apartment without any other comment.

Joaquín walked down the street, aimless. He should’ve called — he could’ve called you right now in fact. But what could he say? He didn’t even know why it hurt this bad.

The next time he heard about you was a couple months later. Sam and him were on a quick mission and Sam felt the need to give him updates about the family dynamic.

“She doesn’t want to meet Sarah and the kids,” Sam ominously said.

“I understand Bucky and you want to have a good relationship with her,” Joaquín assured him, “but I don’t get why you come to me for advice when we’re not together anymore for a reason.”

“Because you know her and we don’t.”

“She doesn’t cope well with change.”

”Is there any way to convince her?”

Joaquín had asked himself the same question. Many times, in many places. The conclusion was always the same. “No.”

��═══════════════════════

Walking up the stairs with produce bags was part of your weekly routine. The elevator rarely worked and you didn’t trust using it when it did.

It was early. The market had been almost empty when you arrived — you had to wait for a few people to set up their products before buying.

Early mornings and all-nighters were your norm. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in.

That was a lie. You could, you just chose to ignore it had happened. Everything always went back to a time you weren’t sure you would ever get over, and at the point you were in your life, you would rather ignore your past altogether.

As you reached your floor, you tried to remember if you had bought lemons or limes. Oh, well, you’d make do. Now you just needed to buy cat food and you’d be set for the week.

You had just unlocked your door when you heard a voice behind you.

“For a second there I thought you were out of town again.”

“Nah, I just really wanted some fresh fruit.”

Ben hummed. “Wanna hang out for a while?”

You considered it for a moment; you wanted to say no. Yet you gave in. “Yeah, why not?”

You let him in first. Ben avoided knocking the bags you had placed on the floor in order to open the door and stood in the living room, eyes on the plant near the window.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you told him as you carried your bags into the kitchen.

He remained in the same spot until you came back. His blue eyes focused on you as you awkwardly stood in front of him.

Ben leaned in, hands ghosting your sides.

You placed both palms on his chest and pushed him off you. “We said it wouldn’t happen again.”

“Right...”

Whoever was at the door saved you from an uncomfortable conversation by knocking with urgency.

Ben frowned. “You didn’t tell me you were expecting somebody.”

“I’m not.”

The moment you opened the door, you realized something was terribly wrong. Sam hadn’t visited you since the day you met him although he and Bucky called often.

He went directly to the point, “I need your help. It’s important.”

You nodded, letting Sam in. “I’ll talk to you later, Ben,” you said, hand on the door handle as you waited for him to leave the apartment.

You saw him glare at you, but Sam’s presence was enough for him to keep his complaints to himself.

Sam sat down on the couch, watching you as you hesitated on whether to sit down or walk into the kitchen.

“Want some water?” you offered.

“Sure.”

“Ice?”

“No, thank you.”

You filled your glass with crushed ice and a little bit of water and carried both glasses towards the coffee table.

With your glass between both hands, you asked, “What’s up?”

Sam didn’t look at you as he said, “It’s about Joaquín.”

“I—“

“Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two and I don’t care.” Sam made a pause, allowing you to munch on ice. “I haven’t seen him in two weeks, I can’t find him anywhere.”

You cleared your throat, fighting a cough. “And what do you want me to do? I don’t even know where he lives.”

Sam took a gulp of water, not knowing what to expect. “You said you weren’t trained. Your file says otherwise.”

“I never said that.”

You had been careful when you answer that particular question. You hadn’t been enough for Hydra, but that didn’t mean they didn’t break you first.

“Why did Viper spare you?”

You bit the inside of your bottom lip. It was more than complicated — you didn’t even remember much from that day. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “She beat me up and the next thing I knew, Kraken was taking me to my first foster family.”

“So you haven’t had any contact with her ever since?”

“No—“ You made a face. “Well... I think she sent me the first lead to find Bucky. The actual file that said he was my dad.”

Sam placed his glass back onto the table. “She’s been on and off in Vegas for a while.”

“You think she did something to him,” you asserted.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You clenched your jaw. “How can I help?”

“Telling me the truth.” He became extremely serious as he added, “I know you have contact with Seraph.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t care about Seraph, but the girls under her wing had suffered enough already. “I can’t tell you anything about her, Sam.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “Look, (Name), I already talked to Zemo and he doesn’t know anything.”

“Why can’t somebody from the Air Force find her? Or him?!” you defensively asked.

Sam scoffed. “Just how much you know about him?”

“Last thing I knew he was choosing The Air Force over me.”

You poured ice into your mouth. Barely able to close it, you let a few little chunks melt before you started munching again.

“We don’t have time for this,” Sam lamented, “Joaquín’s life might be on the line.”

You shook the glass in your grasp. “I can link you up with one of her angels. That’s it.”

Sam nodded, pulling his phone out. “Give me her info.”

“No, no.” You put your glass down. “We go to Madripoor and the contact is made there.”

“I’m not taking you to Madripoor. Are you insane?”

“Probably.”

“Your dad would kill me!”

You shrugged. “Don’t tell him.”

“I can’t ruin my relationship like that.”

“Sam...” You whined when he shook his head. Almost pouting, you stared directly at him. “Please.”

“No, that face won’t work on me.”

“I’ll explain things to Bucky.”

“Oh, you will. You are taking a flight to New York in...” He checked the time. “In two hours and telling him to his face that you still have contact with Hydra.”

“I’m not a child.”

“That’s exactly why you’re telling him. Adults don’t hide shit like that!”

“You don’t get it.”

“And I never will. Besides, you owe this to us for the stress you’ve given your dad and for refusing to meet my sister and nephews.”

He was right.

You pushed yourself off the chair. “How light should I pack?”

Sam made a face, twisting his mouth. “I don’t know. Pack like you did last time just to be safe.”

Well, you had twenty minutes to pack. And to struggle with putting Fatatita in her cage.

“Hey,” you called for him from your bedroom’s doorframe. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Depends.”

“I bought produce that could go bad. Can you give it out? Everything’s on the counter.”

His face softened. “Of course.”

Your cat wasn’t too happy with being trapped in a carrier, much less with once again putting up with children in the plane.

So there you were, uncomfortable against the window with a whiny cat. You hated window seats and although planes were fine, you were sick of them.

Bucky picked you up at the airport without a word. He helped you with your luggage while you freed Fatatita from the carrier.

She snuggled up on your lap once you were in the car, but Bucky didn’t start the engine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he softly asked.

You would’ve preferred that he yelled at you. Maybe he would once you explained yourself.

“My plan was to join The Angels.”

He didn’t yell. “What?”

“I was lonely.”

“You have a cat. You could’ve gotten another one or something. Anything that wasn’t that.”

“Yeah, and I love Fatatita,” you said indignantly as you massaged her head, “but she can’t talk or hug me back.”

You loved her snuggles, she was a sweet cat and you wouldn’t have survived the last six years without her. But she wasn’t human.

Painfully, you added, “I feel like I don’t belong here. You have Sam and his family already, you have a home...”

”We’ve invited you to join.”

You didn’t fit in with Bucky or with Sam, much less with Sam’s family — they sounded like nice people, but if Sarah was half as intuitive as Sam, she would be able to tell you were uncomfortable and you didn’t want to offend anybody.

You hated being alone and yet every path you took seemed to lead to loneliness. Maybe it was time to accept you had idealized your dad and he couldn’t live up to the standard.

Or maybe that wasn’t the issue, maybe you were as a whole. Living with it was your only option.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Nothing is.”

Yeah, nothing was easy, but this thing particularly was kicking your ass.

════════════════════════

Things between you and Bucky were tense. He took great offense after you confessed you had considered going back to Seraph so he barely spoke to you.

You had only heard updates about Joaquín — or better said, the lack of updates about him.

Focusing on work or anything that wasn’t the phone on the table next to the couch was practically impossible.

Sam’s call eventually came through. He said Joaquín was alive which wasn’t relieving for either you or Bucky.

You wanted to hear that he was safe and sound. Alive was good, but not enough. Not when you knew exactly the type of things Ophelia was capable of.

“Bring a jacket,” Bucky told you. He couldn’t hide how mad he was — his voice was rough.

You silently complied, making sure to leave water for Fatatita.

On your way to the hospital, you tried to find something to say. The silence was unbearable, but you couldn’t help but think you would be a bigger nuisance.

Bucky pulled into the vast parking lot and found a good parking spot in no time.

You didn’t want to go there. Your mind had already run wild and the things you could encounter terrified you.

Fear seemed like a distant experience from a naive child. You hadn’t been raised like this.

But you hadn’t been raised to love anybody and yet you were, so full of love you would have rather died.

“I’ll wait here.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stretched his arm to open the passenger door. “You are not staying here.”

Huffing, you got out of the car and waited for him to do the same. You slammed the door closed and he glared at you.

You immediately regretted listening to Bucky and coming to the stupid hospital. What were you even doing there? What would you fix?

Joaquín looked like shit. You could feel each hit as your eyes analyzed his bruised face. To make it worse, his left arm was wrapped and immobilized. You didn’t want confirmation he had more injuries — you didn’t need it.

“What did you find?” Bucky asked calmly.

Joaquín struggled to speak. “They’ve been doing experiments on people. Kids included.”

“And you didn’t think of telling anybody in case you needed backup?”

Bucky called your name sternly, warning you to shut up.

“No. He deserves it. They could’ve fucking killed him!”

Joaquín stammered. Of course he didn’t have a good answer. Of course he had to worry you sick even years later.

You felt actually sick to your stomach. Regret and anger often came hand in hand, but they had never made you feel like this.

“Let’s go outside,” Bucky commanded. “You need air.”

He pushed you out of the room and all along the hallway. People looked at you weirdly, surely wondering why you were being rushed out of the hospital.

If air had filled your lungs, you didn’t feel it. Stripping yourself off your jacket, you looked up at the sky. Why did you have to react like that?

Showing you cared never brought you anything positive. When you didn’t put people in danger, you ruined your relationships. And now you were just acting like an emotional idiot over nothing.

You punched the wall out of frustration.

It was not nothing.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Bucky moved you away from the wall and further into the open-air parking lot. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His arm was tight around your shoulders.

“I just— I can’t believe him, dad! He’s always been this careless.”

Bucky became frozen.

“I know I’m being too emotional and I shouldn’t, I’m sorr—“

“Don’t.” Bucky tightened his grip on you. “Let it out, it’s okay. I’m here.” His voice broke. “Dad’s here.”

You hid your face in his jacket, for the first time in your life crying on your dad’s shoulder as he steadied you.

════════════════════════

You had to admit you missed the bus. New York wasn’t what people painted it as, much less the romanticized version your dad had presented you.

Either way, you were already there and you didn’t plan on moving out any time soon.

You were careful to not shake the reusable bag in your grasp too much. Bucky had never tasted your cookies and you would change that in a few minutes.

Memorizing the path towards the apartment was easy. Sam had given you a few tips so you wouldn’t have to call him all panicked because you were lost again. Luckily, he had gotten over it already.

Sarah was already at Sam’s and Bucky’s when you arrived. Apologizing for being late, you placed the homemade cookies you had brought on the table.

Sitting between Sam and Bucky, you asked Sarah, “You didn’t bring the kids?”

“Joaquín took them out for ice cream so we could talk about adult stuff,” she easily explained.

You glowered at Sam who had just served you a glass of lemonade.

“You’ve avoided him for too long,” he said.

“And you know exactly why.”

“I’ve heard both versions.”

You shook your head, knowing you wouldn’t win this argument. Sarah lifted her eyebrows.

“She’s as stubborn as her dad,” Sam told his sister.

“If I remember correctly, you used to refuse to admit you liked Bucky,” Sarah shot back.

“Don’t take her side!”

“No, no, Sarah, tell me more,” you encouraged her. “This is great material.”

She laughed, so did Bucky and eventually, Sam joined in.

The day you met Sarah had been bittersweet. She hadn’t held grudges against you for refusing to meet her and her children earlier and they welcomed you the same way they welcomed Bucky.

In contrast, you did hold that grudge against yourself. Yes, you hadn’t been ready to meet more people and were scared of not fitting in, but it wasn’t their fault.

The kids won you over the second you met them and the rest was history.

You tried to avoid glancing at the door when you heard the key sliding in, but you betrayed your pride and gazed at Joaquín the moment the door opened.

His face wasn’t bruised anymore and his hair was longer. He looked good, but that was to be expected.

You stood up to greet AJ and Cass, hugging them both. Joaquín smiled yet didn’t say anything.

As he parted from you, AJ asked, “You didn’t bring your cat today?”

“She’s at the apartment, probably asleep or enjoying her new cat tower.”

“You finally bought one!” Cass had given you the idea when you mentioned you wanted to find something for Fatatita to entertain herself. “She must be so happy.”

“Yup. Wanna see it? I’ve taken hundreds of photos.”

Both kids nodded. You unlocked your cellphone and patiently showed them the photos. The living room hadn’t been ideal for the cat tower so you put it in your office.

The problem, truly, was that the office was almost empty and you hated the color on the walls, but you hadn’t gotten around to buy paint.

Fatatita looked adorable in her cat tower, though. She would sometimes jump to the desk and lay on it, demanding attention. You never died her.

“You’ll get to see it in person soon,” you promised AJ and Cass.

Both kids were happy with such promise. They ran towards their mom, leaving you facing Joaquín. Once again, you couldn’t not stare at him.

“You look great,” he told you.

“Thanks.” You could’ve said he looked great too, but you didn’t want to make it awkward. “It’s good to see your arm isn’t broken anymore.”

He let out a small laugh. “Yeah...”

“I— Uhmm... I brought cookies.”

His face lit up. “I haven’t had one of your cookies in ages.”

You extended a hand in a welcoming gesture. “Help yourself.”

He didn’t move immediately and in consequence, neither did you. What ifs didn’t matter anymore, they didn’t even hurt that much — you just genuinely wished you could interact with him without feeling like you were crossing a line.

You used to be able to communicate without words, to know what he needed just by gazing at him from across the room. Joaquín would read your body language perfectly every single time and never once failed to respect your boundaries.

Not even the godforsaken evening he left.

Would the two of you ever be able to go back to what it was? You didn’t care if he still loved you — he probably didn’t. You wanted your best friend back.

“Anybody want anything from the kitchen?” Joaquín asked.

“Beer, please,” Sam replied.

Sitting back down, you drummed your fingers against your lemonade glass with no particular rhythm. You were being silly, there was no reason for you to be nervous.

Joaquín handed Sam his beer. He then stood behind you.

“Here.” He placed a glass full of ice in front of you. Crushed ice.

Okay, maybe there was a reason for you to be nervous. Something you hadn’t been on your first date or even the day you met him.

“Thank you,” you mumbled.

Bucky kissed the side of your head. You leaned into your dad’s warmth, letting the others speak. You were getting better at joining into their conversations, but this time you simply couldn’t focus.

His eyes were on you and yours would’ve been on him if you weren’t resting your head on Bucky’s shoulder.

You used to fantasize about something like this. A family afternoon, Joaquín and your dad getting along...

You lifted your head off Bucky’s shoulder and sighed. “I should get going. I’m still getting used to the subway.”

“Want me to drive you a little bit later?” Bucky offered. “I don’t get drunk.”

“I can drive her if she wants,” Joaquín said.

Bucky looked at him then nodded. “If she wants.”

The answer should’ve been no, but a little indulgence never hurt anyone. “Sure.”

So you stayed until Joaquín had to leave. Sam’s eyes lingered on you as you said your goodbyes — his hug was tight, an attempt to remind you things would be okay.

Bucky hugged you even tighter, almost lifting you off the floor. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he whispered in your ear before parting from you. Your dad kissed your forehead before watching you go.

It wasn’t the first time Sam or Bucky tried to encourage you to talk to Joaquín. You weren’t dumb, you knew he had offered to drive you because he wanted to say something.

Had they planned it all out? You hoped they hadn’t.

The night sky was clear, perfect for a long walk. Although long walks in New York were different, they were a good vehicle to get used to the environment which your therapist would’ve loved for you to do. Oh, well, another night it would be.

════════════════════════

“You can drop me at the subway station.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want me to know where you live, but I offered to drive you home.”

Home. It still felt like a dirty word. He didn’t say it to mock you, there was no malice in his voice. Once again, you were the problem.

You gave him the address, explaining the directions Sam had given you to not get lost. Joaquín only hummed in acknowledgment.

After a mostly silent drive, you weren’t sure your assumptions from earlier had been correct. Maybe he was just trying to be nice and your brain had played you.

It was probably for the best in the general scheme of things, but you had to admit you were disappointed.

He stopped the car in front of the building. Neither of you attempted to move.

“Can we talk?”

You nodded. “Here? In the car, I mean.”

“Wherever you feel comfortable.”

You both knew where things could go if you dared to invite him in. But you still did.

The elevator was thankfully empty. The space between your bodies almost disgusted you. The last time you had been in an empty elevator with him, neither of you had been able to take your hands off each other.

Turning the lights on, you apologized, “Sorry for the mess. I have a lot of things to organize still.”

You walked towards the couch and picked the box you had left there up. Something moved inside.

A hiss let you know Fatatita was inside the box. You reached in and held her between your arm and your chest.

You put the box on top of the other boxes stacked up against the wall. And motioned for Joaquín to get comfortable.

Fatatita shifted in your grasp so you slowly put her down onto the floor. The cat ran towards the kitchen.

You tried not to stare at Joaquín. The more you did, the more you wanted to bury your fingers in his curls.

“Sam told me what you did,” he quietly told you.

“It’s nothing.”

“You had to move because of me.”

“It was bound to happen,” you said simply as though it hadn’t been one of the hardest decisions you had ever had to make.

He looked down. You hoped he was thinking the same thing you were. ’It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.’

“I’m sorry for not telling you who my dad was.”

“I’m not going to say it didn’t hurt, or that I get why you did it,” he admitted, “but I hope you know I would have dropped everything to help you find him.”

“I know,” you assured him quickly. “That’s why I never said yes, it wouldn’t have been fair.”

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted to join The Air Force more than anything. Your eyes would lit up when you talked about it and I didn’t have the heart to pull you away from your dream.” You let out a small sigh, perfectly picturing him, so hopeful and excited. “And I wanted to, I really did, but you deserved better.”

“But you were part of that dream.”

“You know how much I’ve always hated not having a home, but you still wanted me to move every few years.” It was never going to work, no matter how desperately you wanted it to.

“So I wasn’t enough?” He masochistically peered up.

“Wha— who said that? Why are you putting words in my mouth?”

“Because you would have moved every few years with me. I was only going to leave when deployed. I had all of it planned. We would get married eventually so you’d live with me at the base and...” he trailed off.

Whether he was trying to spare your feelings or to find the right words was irrelevant. You stayed silent, in part because you didn’t know what to do but mostly because you knew him well and were sure he wanted to finish his comment.

“I thought waiting for you was proof that I was serious about us. I asked you to move with me. WITH me, not for me.”

You sat down too. You didn’t need him to remind you or to make emphasis on his words — you had understood what he wanted from the beginning; you wanted the same for the most part, but not like that.

Compromising would’ve been good. Healthy. You wouldn’t be in this mess now. But comprising entailed a specific kind of vulnerability you were afraid you would never recover from.

And you lost Joaquín because of that.

“I was scared and I already said sorry. What else do you want me to do?”

He twisted to face you. “Don’t get defensive, we’re just talking.”

“I just...” You wanted to say a lot of things. If you had drunk alcohol you would’ve let them all out at once and finally, the nuisance from the pills was paying off. “I don’t want you to hate me. That’s all.”

“You can’t possibly think I hate you.”

You shrugged. “I sorta resented you for a while.”

“How did you get over it?”

Lying would have been so easy, but you couldn’t when he was implying you had gotten over him. There had been other people in your life after him and you had ruined those relationships too, but none of them hurt like this.

“I didn’t.”

He sat there, unmoving as he stared at you as if he was waiting for you to tell him it was a joke.

“Fuck,” he murmured.

“Please don’t make it awkward,” you begged him. “We can forget this conversation happened. You will go back to Vegas and I will stay here, it’s okay.”

Everything would be okay. This was just the closure your therapist said you needed.

Joaquín broke it to you, “I live here.”

Speechless, you felt your blood drop to your feet. Deep breaths and counting to ten were as effective as ever and at the same time didn’t cut it. Only you had this luck.

“Sam didn’t tell you I’m Falcon now?”

Now Sam’s and Bucky’s attitude made complete sense.

“He forgot that small detail.” As you recovered your ability to speak, you stressed, “The offer stands. We can forget this conversation happened.”

“I don’t want to forget about it.”

“We can’t do this, Joaquín. Not again — last time was hard enough.”

He enthusiastically nodded. “But I’m not going anywhere this time.” Seeing your apprehension, he added, “As much as I want to, I’m not asking you to immediately get back with me.”

“What are you asking for, then?”

“Another chance? A fresh start? I don’t know. I miss you and I want to be with you, but I’m not going to force you.”

“It’s not that you would be forcing me,” you clarified, “I miss you too, a lot. And the excuses I could give you are minimal, maybe a little petty...” He huffed a laugh. You continued, finally explaining yourself, “I’m scared we won’t really get past what happened.”

Joaquín placed his warm hand on your shoulder. “I’ve already forgiven you.”

You rested your hands on his shoulders, blinking rapidly. Sliding your hands to his back, you hugged him.

His free arm snaked your waist. Joaquín hid his face in your neck, moving his hand to the back of your head.

He shifted to kneel on the couch, making you lightly part from him. Your eyes met and you pulled him closer again before he would say anything.

Joaquín bit his bottom lip. “Can I kiss you?”

You kissed him first, tired of pretending you hadn’t been waiting for this since the day he left.

He softly kissed you back, bringing a hand to your face as he cupped your cheek. You relished in his warmth and gentleness, leaning into his touch and consequently kissing him harder.

Removing his arm from around you, he placed his hand on your belly and lightly pushed you onto your back. You ended up in an awkward position, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

He hovered over you, fingers caressing your sides as he continued kissing you. You tangled your fingers in his curls as he deepened the kiss.

You rendered each other breathless, touch growing looser as both of you panted.

“So much for not rushing in,” you breathlessly joked against his mouth.

“Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” he panted.

“No, don’t worry.”

He hummed, leaving a small kiss on your jaw before dragging his lips to your neck.

“Although...” He immediately stopped. You chuckled. “My back hurts.”

Joaquín moved off you, standing up and offering his hand to you to help you sit up.

Instead, you stood up altogether and took his hand. He didn’t say no, he let you take him to your room.

You sat on the bed, tugging on his hand.

“Come here,” you needily said.

Joaquín happily complied, leaning in to kiss you again.

When you woke up the next morning, he was sound asleep next to you.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x plus size reader #joaquin torres

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arysthaeniru · 4 years ago

Note

...I hear you’re doing drabble giveaways? :) I would love some nishitani/majima!! I saw you wanted to write a nishitani lives au and i hope you end up doing it because I would love to see how you write them ❤️

Aaaahhhh, thank you for this request <3 I hope you enjoy this little snippet, I really like Nishitani’s dynamic with Majima, because it’s so much about temptation and vices and flagrant hedonism that makes Majima value himself more as a person. Nishitani’s whole shtick is about pleasure and when Majima of Yakuza 0 is convinced he doesn’t deserve that, it makes for an excellent dynamic.

Somehow Nishitani has found Club Sunshine. Majima notices him on one of their busiest days, on the tailend of dealing with a problem customer, who'd had issues with the quality of their champagne. He's cloistered himself in one of the back booths, entertained by Saki-chan.

Majima snaps to attention and rushes over to the booth, even though Saki hasn't made the hand signal for help yet. He snaps his fingers, once, twice. "Out." He says, shortly, and feels a slow curl of rage within him as Nishitani just turns to give Majima a once-over, slow and lingering, smirk spreading over his face.

"Majima-kun, I didn't think ya'd turn down a payin’ customer." Nishitani drawls, with a self-satisfied grin.

"Payin’ customer or not, yer trouble. Out." Majima snaps, stiffly.

Saki turns to look at Majima, anxiously, but she doesn't seem especially perturbed by Nishitani's presence. What is it about his charm where somehow, girls who dislike being taken for granted, are magically alright with Nishitani's presence? The girls at the Grand too, had been surprisingly unfazed by Nishitani breaking Majima's 'Look-Don't-Touch' rules. "Majima-san..." she says, in that tone that means she's worried about him.

"Ya all good here?" Majima asks Saki, gently. For all that she's a strong woman who is used to taking care of herself, Majima wants her to know she can rely on him to defuse anything uncomfortable for her.

"Don't be so paranoid, Majima-kun. We're getting along just fine!" Nishitani squeezes Saki's bicep, in an overly-friendly way, and Majima scowls when Saki just giggles, not even vaguely discomfited.

"Not talking ta you, am I? Shaddup."

"I'm fine, Majima-san." Saki says, with a sunny smile.

Majima grimaces to and turns his gaze on Nishitani. It's a busy night. He really can't insist on running Nishitani away, not if he's going to behave himself and get them money. He's got other girls to take care of. "One step outta line, and I call the police, pronto. Ya won't get ta fight me at all." Majima says, firmly, and turns on his heel to walk away, before he can get a response.

Inbetween getting refills for Yuki and towels for Erranda, Majima hears snippets of their conversation all evening.

"I like my lovers strong, intent. Makes everything more fun, ya know?" "Nothin’ draws the eye more than a girl who's confident in herself." "Gotta love somebody who can take care of 'emselves."

The whole time, Saki just laughs, handles herself with her usual graceful aplomb, steers the conversation in pleasant, easy directions, showing off her prowess as the former star of Club Jupiter, perfectly adept at handling rougher types.

Majima seethes, quietly and tries to not watch them, listen to them. But he can't help it. Whenever he has even a momentary breather, his peripheral senses can't help but turn towards Nishitani. He justifies it to himself as keeping an eye out for trouble, but if he's being really honest with himself, that's not the primary reason.

Majima's always been drawn to strength. It's the one thing that has always shaped his path, shaped his destiny. It had been what had drawn to him to Saejima, like a moth to the flame, in the middle of those Tokyo streets as a youth. It had been what convinced Majima to chain himself to Shimano’s yoke, get the man’s motifs and markings all over his back. It had been what made Majima so comfortable in Fei Hu’s shop, and so familiar with Lee’s rough approach. A mixture of sheer adrenaline, blood-thumping through his entire chest, a shot of courage, fury and wild chaos, and desire, slow and cloying, curling up in the pit of his stomach, making him light-headed and short of breath. Majima’s life has been defined and drawn around strength, power, desire, ambition.

And Nishitani’s powerful. He’d felt the surges of his strength, precision and cleverness throughout that short fight through the Grand’s centre-stage. If Majima had slipped even once, if Majima had been anything less than perfect, propelled by the fury of confusion, he would have died to Nishitani’s blade.

That shouldn’t be as much of a turn-on as it is.

Especially not when considering Nishitani’s about twenty years past his prime. He’s from the same generation as Shimano, Sagawa, those old fucks who’ve caged him in, trapped him down. With freckled sun-spots smattered over wrinkling skin, and touches of grey to the roots of his hair, and his scarred, calloused hands, Majima shouldn’t be drawn to him in that way. Old, pervy fucker, he should represent everything Majima hates most about the generation of yakuza above him.

But he can’t help it. Nishitani’s presence is like a livewire, electrifying, dangerous, addictive. And Majima couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

When the evening shift draws to a close, Majima leaves Youda and Yuki to be in charge of wiping down the place and saying goodbye to the last of the customers. He dips out for a smoke instead, to try and gain control of his fraying nerves, to pull himself back into a modicum of calm. He can’t lose himself in this.

He’s not yakuza anymore. Just a man desperately trying to stay alive long enough to let Saejima kill him. And a man trying desperately to preserve any sense of goodness, keep that fragile spark of a girl safe inside that cold warehouse... none of him has room for Nishitani’s advances.

And yet...

“You ever consider lettin’ yer hair free, Majima-kun? Just for a moment?” Nishitani drawls, voice dangerously close to Majima’s. They’re outside the club now, and he’s not a paying customer anymore. That makes this interaction dangerous.

“No.” Majima says, puffing out a cool breeze of smoke straight into Nishitani’s face. The fucker doesn’t even flinch, just grins, that lightly mocking smile.

“Not even once? Shame that. Pretty things like you only gets better when they cut loose a little, live free.” Nishitani says, sauntering around to prop himself up over Majima, trapping him into the wall. It’s at once a threat of aggression, and a threat of something else, something more sensible. His hand comes in close, as if to caress Majima’s hair, but he stops just short of doing it, balances it against the wall instead.

Perhaps he senses Majima’s internal tension, perhaps he knows that Majima will deck him the moment Nishitani lays a hand on him. Or maybe it’s something like respect for Majima’s rules. (Majima dismisses that thought immediately, Nishitani wouldn’t know respect if it came up to him and sucked his dick.)

Despite himself, Majima swallows a little, as he takes another deep inhale of the cigarette. “The fuck do you want? I ain’t tellin’ you where Makoto is.”

Nishitani grins. From up close, Majima can smell the alcohol on his breath, whiskey, cigarettes and something else, a little deeper. It’s not exactly a good smell, but it’s a familiar smell, a comfortable smell. Nishitani is the epitome of the yakuza lifestyle that Majima had grown up desiring.

“Don’t worry, Majima-kun. I ain’t here for that today. Got a little proposition for ya, instead.” he says, licking his lips. Majima can’t look away from his mouth, the slight pinkness of his tongue against his surprisingly dark lips, and so he almost misses Nishitani’s next sentence. “Got a job I need ya ter do for me.”

Majima frowns. “The fuck would I do that for?”

“Issa job only you can do” Nishitani grins, and waggles his eyebrows. “Compensate ya handsomely, of course.”

Majima rolls his eyes, but honestly, for cash-money, he’ll do just about anything for anybody, short of prostitution. Anything to get his debt to Shimano and Sagawa square. “What?” he asks, pretending to be bored, pretending none of this interests him.

“There’s this gambling club I run that’s been real trouble, lately. Won’t listen to a damn word I say, and they seem to be squirreling some cash away, some big winnings they managed to poach from a pack of fools. Can’t have that sort of shit on my turf.” Nishitani says, with a casual ease. “I’d send my boys in, but ya see, someone seems ta have done a number on ‘em, and they look about as threatening as a flock of pigeons, all covered in bandages like they are.”

“You could do it yerself.” Majima says, gaze darting down to Nishitani’s feet. Just over the edge of his socks, Majima can see the bandages, and he’s noticed that Nishitani holds himself with a limp. He’s clearly still injured from their fight, when Majima had shoved his fucking knife right inbetween his tendons.

“I could, but ya see, they know my face. They’d gear up for trouble the moment I stepped within a five-foot vicinity. You on the other hand...” Nishitani leans in, that smug grin only getting bigger.

Majima snorts, before he can stop himself. “Ya say that like everybody in this town doesn’t know my face, too.”

“Lord of the Night.” Nishitani agrees, and his voice hums with approval. “But ya see, yer reputation precedes you. Everybody knows ya don’t start fights, ya end them. So if you started a fight at the gambling parlour, not a damn soul would expect it.” There’s a crazed glint to Nishitani’s eyes, reflecting off the neon signs from the bars around them, and Majima shouldn’t be considering this at all, but he is. The thought of going in and smashing heads of people who actually deserve it always gets Majima’s blood simmering. He can’t help himself. He’s a creature nurtured on a diet of violence, and the Hole has changed him. It shaped him in the image of its own cruelty, and Majima had let its madness into his soul, or he would never have lived to see the sunlight again.

Majima wonders what had made Nishitani this way.

“The fuck would I jeopardize my rep for? For you?” asks Majima, dangerously.

“I’ll owe ya one, just the pleasure of seein’ ya go crazy in there.” Nishitani says, leaning inwards, mouth just centimetres from Majima’s ear. “Whatever ya want, name it.”

Majima’s skin is alit with goosebumps, he feels like a leaf in the breeze, one touch would undo him, undo all of Majima’s tightly laced boundaries, would unravel everything that has kept him safe and alive. If Nishitani pressed even an inch closer, Majima would agree to just about anything he asked. And they both know it, it’s the electric spark between them, Nishitani’s complete understanding of how fragile everything about Majima’s existence is.

But Nishitani doesn’t touch him, just lets his breath caress the inner curve of Majima’s ear and pulls back, eyes glinting with maleficent amusement.

He wants Majima to make the step on his own. He wants Majima to come apart at his own behest. Fucking sadist.

“Well. Let me know. Ya know where ta find me.” Nishitani says, slow and languid. “Be seein’ ya, Majima-kun.”

He saunters away without a care in the world, and Majima lets the cigarette drop from his mouth and presses his back against the wall outside Club Sunshine, desperately trying to quell the fire within him that blazes in indignation at letting Nishitani just walk away from him.

#nishitani homare #majima goro #majima #yakuza #rgg #nishimaji #this was fun to write hehehehe

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altarflame · 4 years ago

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Let me give you this real country music breakdown.

Keeping in mind that 2019 involved lots of gut wrenching transition, including divorce and selling my home of 11 years (the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere). Moving away from the tropics, to a place where the ocean is usually too far and my plants can’t live outside through the winter. I had a kid move out and away, for the first time. My oldest friend also died last August, after a scant 3 month long battle with cancer. It was a real plague upon my proverbial dog, wife, and pickup truck. And, of course, I’m living through a pandemic, and a long overdue but very emotional racial justice uprising, with the rest of you, now. Anyway. OTHER than those things, my 2020 has been like...My sister’s gradually, gut wrenchingly cut off all contact with me over the past couple of years, culminating in the last couple of months, whenst we no longer speaketh at all. I’ve fought hard for this to be different and it’s still very sharp. I don’t think I’ll ever give up hope, or stop making a fool of myself about it. A new friend I was starting to really care about hung herself in April. I’ve tried to be there for her husband and 5 year old daughter when and how I can, which is honestly not much. I’ve taken several people who were scared to go alone, to her grave. I felt forced to break up with the person I thought was my soul mate, these past 3 years, and wanted to be with forever, and I have grieved it hard over the last couple of months. I’m still processing this. I’m gonna be processing this for awhile. My threshold for being anywhere near him without overwhelming sobbing is apparently approximately 45 seconds. In the beginning we were scrambled together, mixed in a celestial bowl and hand fluffed with a feather. And the tears of bliss were not amiss - it was a good day. But the story nears the present time Of restlessness and wake up calls Wake up! Years have flown fast but then who's counting The wars have been won but there's few left standing between us And the shadows of Christmas past... Critically acclaimed but sadly underrated - Fortune definitely favored us, but no one celebrated. Our wits were splitting at their ends... We gazed upon the city lights We each laughed aloud one final time and agreed: This is one thing we'll miss... On his way out, he sabotaged my part time foster child’s mom’s tenuous, fragile relationship with me, so I no longer have the ability to connect with or help that child who he brought into my life. Who I love and wonder about and periodically hear horror stories about via mutual friends. I bent over backwards, I burned calories straining for that trust between the mom and myself.

It’s so terrible sometimes. It hurts so bad. Jean-Paul. LAURA. *MILLS* . Coralye. FUCK. This post brought to you with plenty of hard crying, and no shortage of echoing painful music. I’m physically sick about this shit semi often. I don’t normally let go of anybody, guys. But certainly not my fucking nearest and dearest. I have a lot. I have SO MUCH. I know this. I feel good a lot of the time. I have all 5 of my kids under this roof while the pandemic rages on, and they’re all healthy and beautiful and they all love me and talk with me. It’s mostly all cake these days with them, Elise telling me where she is in her own solitary reading for pleasure, Ananda cracking me up, Jake biking to the grocery store for treats to share, Aaron showing me something amazing in the yard, Isaac washing dishes and giving me weirdly helpful and totally unanticipated advice. They’re almost no work now, it’s all return on investment and I have tons of privacy and I use the fuck out of it. I’m deeply in love with somebody these past 7 months. Being deeply in new love AND devastated-heartbroken about lost love at the same time is honestly dizzying, I spent a first destitute day thinking maybe I can’t do polyamory anymore, period. Maybe this is too fucking much and I’m gonna be alone and focus on my career and my goddamned plants. (<--not fucking really, obv I am not gonna let the pain win and go full hermit. Brief compelling temptation, though.) My career and my plants are great, btw, thanks for asking. I’ve got basically my dream job, it’s flexible and lackadaisical AND meaningful and challenging, it’s salaried with bonuses and hella benefits and amazing job security. It’s the whole thing, the culmination of 6 years in school and unpaid internships and volunteering. I even have a spare PRN position elsewhere that I mostly hang on to because it’s fun when they want me to come make $200 for a shift, to mix it up a little. And I have solo projects, writing and web and mental health, all in the works, and they’re good. I have seedlings sprouting. I have a yard that is pure magic, revealing new secrets each day. I’ve got some of my oldest people, like Jess. I’ve got some exciting new people, like Jill. The love, did I mention it? Holy shit. I’ve got Sterling, and that is a whole other story. That it’s been this good while things are this bad is pretty astounding. His own drama quotient has been off the charts, too. I almost can’t imagine how wonderful it would be if we weren’t constantly adrift in a sea of bullshit, though I also strongly suspect we both need a certain staggering minimum quota of bullshit. It’s no accident that we met mutually chasing along after the wake of the same madman’s chaos. We’re nursing some deep wounds in each other, waking up some old old hurts and soothing them back down smaller and smaller. Anytime we’re touching it’s either syrupy soma sweet, blazing inferno hot, or a staggering blend of the two - and then we pull apart to try to actually speak with whole brains, and inevitably take turns being baffled, just hilariously relieved, at how easy it is to communicate. We alternate coming at each other on tiptoe, braced, and then feeling confused and just.... amused? Skeptical? that the other is totally able to empathize with what was just said and is accepting it gently. We don’t have a ton of objective stuff in common, on paper. We’re both very wordy and linguistic, we’re analyzers, we draw unusual people who will feel safe telling us insane things. We’re both hypersexual perverts, chronic pickers, we both wear too much black. It doesn’t go a lot further than that at a glance. We both have PTSD and ironclad outward facing coping skills, nostalgia for the Florida Keys, scientific skepticism mixed with some faith in magic.... we were both brilliant children who felt pretty isolated. But I haven’t ever really felt like anyone is loving me the way I love people, before. I’ve never even felt like anyone else received my love, the same way I intended it, or at least not all of it. It’s like the intensity of what I’m conveying and meaning when I kiss somebody’s cheek, I dunno man, he experiences it. The goofy flowing sense I have, of holding hands, he comments on it all the time. I’m not just like.... alone, in my overwhelm with being touched, or my enthusiasm for sensations, and that is honestly pretty new to me. Sterling is not tolerating my affection for my sake, and I’m still gradually adapting to that with periodic backsliding into hesitance, and unneeded apologies. It’s like we’re totally fluent in the precise same love language, so nothing gets lost, and the feedback loop is instantaneous. He’s dark inside, but dark like Nine Inch Nail’s A Warm Place. Dark like the womb. So as I was saying. I have so much. Including a candle that’s about Mills, and is burning behind me, giving me this slipping sense that I need to blow it out, I need to reserve it, it’s gonna be gone soon. This one spans so many feelings, it’s been positive, some new candle would be what, voodoo? Meddling? I don’t know. This one’s been in a drawer, with our ring buried in it (my dragon). What will I do with that ring? What will I do with all this love? How can I contain so much, anyway? Why can’t anything ever replace anything else? It’s like infinite space, and the empty places just keep throbbing, and it’s like I sprout new spots for new fullness and the cavities pulse on. I’m deeply grateful for a certain self-completeness I’ve come to understand that I have, and that not everyone does. I am resiliant A-motherfucking-F (<--meta vulgar!). AND YET. OW OW OW. I’m sitting here trying to exposure therapy my way through my Mills playlist, as I write this, so Spotify can’t surprise me into sads anymore. I’ve gotten already to a place where sometimes i remember positive things purely positively, and laugh and tell a story and it’s ok. I’m bitter as all hell that I can’t even talk to my sister about this breakup, after she had so many stupid goddamned feelings about the relationship itself, about polyamory in general, about ever knowing him (which might have allowed her to help me grieve at all). Sigh. I love the internet, maybe feel free to send me a message if you’re still reading, whoever the fuck you are <3

#personal #long text posts #polyamory #Mills #loss #Sterling #motherhood #MSW

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blarfkey · 5 years ago

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director’s cut, director’s choice of ⭐️Dear Fen’Harel⭐️? (Though generally speaking, I’m intensely curious as to how you develop characters because everyone you write is so brilliantly layered)

So um, this exploded. And I apologize. I am very much a character-driven writer versus a plot-driver writer. Also, how I develop characters is not a process I think about, it just happens, so this is also me finding out for myself how my own brain works, haha. If you want the full fucking three page essay this turned into, there’s more under the cut.

If not, and I don’t blame you, TLDR: I break a canon character down to their parts based on what I see in-game, I look at how their personal quest affects them, and I try to find a modern day equivalent to that. Each character has an issue they need to get past and I create situations to challenge those issues. And Ellana was created to be a foil for Solas and I dumped all my negative traits into her because neither she nor I can afford therapy so this is our best bet.

First of all, developing characters in fanfic is different than OC characters because I have a pre-set personality to work with rather than making someone from scratch. So for this, Ellana’s development is different from the rest of the cast.

For fanfic characters, obviously I look at the source material and see how they’ve reacted to certain situations and what they have canonically expressed about themselves in both deed and word. Honestly, I pay more attention to what they have DONE versus what they have SAID because a lot of characters tend to fool themselves into thinking they’re one way when they’re not (here’s looking at you, Solas).

Because DF is a modern AU, I take what I have seen in Canon (which is a lot because Bioware is very good at giving so much material to work with having all those different dialogue trees) and I apply it to the Modern Day. Some characters fit very easily – Dorian was made for Academia. Krem seems a more modern character anyway with how he constantly roasts Iron Bull. Josephine’s prowess in DA:I translates very easily to political science. Varric kind of has a modern writer’s career anyway.

Some are not easy – Solas is actually super hard for me to write in DF than he is in Thick as Thieves because so much of his characterization, his world views, his prejudices, are rooted in the fact that he is an ancient being out of time – which is impossible to have in this AU. I have crafted a sort of back story for him that might explain some things later, but it’s flimsy at best, haha.

So I’ve had to really look at what Solas is like in Inquisition when he’s pretending to be a “normal” hedge mage hermit from nowhere and how he behaves in his romance and extract from that. Solas is a nerd, he’s socially awkward from self-imposed isolation, he constantly struggles with what he wants and what is the morally correct thing to do and the temptation to be loved usually wins out over his convictions until the last second when he gets his common sense back and ruins everything.

It helps that in both DA and DF Solas is keeping a massive, massive secret from the Inquisitor about his identity that will shift the power balance between the two, so I’ve used that to guide me when I’m unsure. He still feels off to me, but it’s whatever at this point, lol. I did my best.

Once I’ve boiled a character down to their usual traits, I figure out how I’m going to have them grow throughout the fic and use their growth to help Ellana’s growth. I try to pull from their personal quests as much as I can, when I can get it to fit.

Some people, like Iron Bull, are static because they’ve already gone through their journey and have reached acceptance. I didn’t really know how to work his Leaving the Qun story line in the modern day, since it is tied so closely with war and potentially killing the Chargers, so by the time Ellana meets him, he has already left the Qun and made his peace with it. I use his static nature to help guide Ellana when she’s conflicted about her identity.

Some people, like Josephine, have personal quests that don’t fit with a modern era but I want to show them grow anyway, so I create something else for them. Right now, Josephine is mired in family drama and trying to figure out how to balance shouldering the weight of her responsibilities to her family with being her own person. That I drew from my own personal experience with being the only sane person in my family with their shit together, haha.

Or Cassandra, who is definitely NOT going to be Divine here, lol. So instead she gets to struggle with her art and how she can express herself in a way that leaves her vulnerable to scrutiny and yet can be so freeing.

Some people, like Krem, get a character arc that I think should have been explored but never was. Krem being trans is something that’s mentioned and talked about a little and never explored. I mean, he’s not a main character, so I get it. And I liked that Being Trans wasn’t his entire character. But there was no way to put him in the modern AU without his trans identity impacting some of his story and growth, even if he had already made his peace with it.

Now, I will say this upfront: I am not trans, and I haven’t had the opportunity to be close friends with a trans person, but I have done a lot of research on what trans people have said about their own experiences, and combined this with other research I’ve done over the years with other minorities and tried to put together what could be lingering insecurities for him and how he could overcome them.

I’m definitely not saying that I’ve done this perfectly and I’m always open to any trans reader who would give me correction, but being trans was not an aspect of Krem’s character that I wanted to ignore just because I wasn’t familiar with it.

I will say that his romance with Josephine was Not Planned. It just kinda happened and I happily ran with it, haha.

Varric’s arc with Bianca is just wishful thinking because I hate her so so much and Bioware just dropped that bomb in Varric’s lap and then just lets him keep holding on to it and it’s bullshit.

The other character journeys are just ways to explore vulnerability in them that I didn’t think got enough attention in the game or I think they could realistically have even if it wasn’t in canon. Like Dorian dealing with his father. Now, in the game, Halward doesn’t have a disease and he dies unexpectedly. But I wanted Dorian to have a realistic reason why he would reach other to his estranged father in this AU and a ticking countdown to an inevitable death seemed right.

Now we get to see Dorian really struggle with this new-found connection with his father that he always wanted to have and now it’s temporary and heartbreak is inevitable and is it still worth it to him? I think Dorian has similar feelings in Trespasser when he found out his father was murdered because he still invested himself to rebuild a lost connection, only to lose it so soon after.

Zevran’s past with the Crows is also something that I really wanted to explore because in the game he is sad for a hot second and then moves on with the Warden and his newfound goal of destroying the entire Crow organization. So I wanted to see Zevran struggle with his inner worth, the fact that he can’t hide forever and his past puts his loved ones in danger, the fact that he can even HAVE loved ones and how it scares the shit out of him. I wanted to have a character who puts on such a good front about not giving a shit about anything to hide how very deeply afraid he is. We are going to see more of this also before the story is over, lol.

Now, Ellana. Like all original characters, Ellana has a lot my personal experiences tied in her. But I originally created Ellana to fill a need for a type of character that I wanted to see with Solas and don’t really get to. I mean, I have not scourged the corners of the internet to find it so I’m sure there are other characters like her, but I haven’t found very many.

I see a lot of very beautiful, very delicate and feminine, very kind and gentle Disney Princess kind of Lavellans. I see a LOT of them. And I don’t hate that necessarily. I mean, Josephine is all of those things and more and I adore her and I sort of crack ship her with Solas anyway, in the secret recesses of my heart. And I love seeing a female character who is the epitome of a “weak” female use those “weak” traits to succeed.

But I am also not very beautiful, I am NOT delicate at all, I’m not gentle. I am not anywhere close to a Disney Princess or a Josephine. And it was disheartening to see Solas romance all these Ocs that were nothing like me after a while because it kind of gave me the message that someone like Solas, a character that I admire and def have a fictional crush on, would never want someone who looks like me or acts like me. That even with unlimited freedom in creating a romantic counterpart for him, I saw so much of what society already reinforces as an ideal that I will never match up to. It doesn’t help that Bioware’s body diversity for elves ranges is nonexistent.

So I made Ellana for me. Not because I want to hate on other Ocs or prove that mine is superior, but so that I would have something that I connected to. And I wanted to explore a dynamic with Solas that I didn’t get to see very often.

So when I first imagined Ellana, I wanted her to be strong and tall and muscular and powerful in a way that makes a lot of unenlightened men uncomfortable. I wanted somebody used to manual labor and dirt and the outdoors and solving problems with their fists and just totally unrefined because I wanted her to be the complete opposite of Solas. (So like Cassandra but in elf form, haha).

I did not want her to be soft or conventionally attractive at all. Ellana doesn’t shun femininity, because I don’t think femininity is inherently wrong, but she is uncomfortable with it and she doesn’t indulge in it.

(Just FYI I am NOT built like Ellana at all either, haha. This is the wish fulfillment part of the OC. I greatly resemble the dwarves, which is why I love them so much.)

But I also needed her to have a reason to leave home, and to have some points of commonality with Solas, so I made her a nerd. A jocky nerd who is insatiably curious and stubbornly independent. And then because I wanted Ellana to feel like a real person instead just a wish fulfillment fantasy, I needed her to grow. So I gave her all my complicated anger issues, my bluntness, my struggles with homesickness, the way I compartmentalize negative events in my life so I don’t have to deal with them just so they can bite me in the ass later, my experiences of going from a lifestyle where all my needs were met and I was oblivious to how great I had it to living with serious poverty for the first time.

And then I devised situations with her life and the other characters where Ellana has to confront these issues and learn to accept them and either move past them or learn to control them. Sometime she gains wisdom and imparts it to people like Sera or Dorian when their struggles come up. And her biggest challenge has yet to arrive, so she’s still cooking, so to speak. Ellana still has a long way to go before she really reaches maturity.

As far as her relationship with Solas goes, I wanted her to challenge him and give him a total upheaval everything he thought he knew about his own culture and his own self. And I wanted him to do the same for her. And then when all the pieces are done falling, they have grown into two people who can handle being together.

So that’s basically it. If there is any character in particular you want to know more about or why I made certain decisions, always feel free to ask!

#asks #dear fenharel #my fic

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letruett1991 · 4 years ago

Text

Ex Girlfriend Came Back After Rebound Stupefying Cool Tips

It is really a tough situation to be fair and willing to pardon yourself?One way is destroying my chances of getting your ex away.Eventually you will be getting your ex back?There is not a class in high school called get back together just because you don't have any contact whatsoever.

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Win Your Ex Wife Back After Divorce

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Maybe you have done the search sift through the virtue of waiting.There are a lot of love and respect, then the break up not talking about something once, it will make a fool of yourself, foster new relationships and sometimes there is one of you still bitter about it?To succeed at getting him or her in the relationship.We need to keep the family together, work through our problems.Of course, there are 3 easy secrets to getting back together with their man?

Having been her husband, your opinion is very comfortable with you was the right things; if you tried any of this initial contact is to ignore her for a successful reconcile, here are some tips that will happen again, make sure you didn't over react?Have you changed during the relationship.It's very unlikely that she just decided to end but only if you do it well.There can be hard especially if she is trying to get their ex forever.There are several good steps you need to consider this and may or may not like women do, and find out how to get your ex again.

However, this was desperate behaviour, and she and Jaime got back together.If you and you will start to move on with my ex, via my friends, that I learned it the other people about these companies so that you are completely over him, no texting, emails, phone calls, great isn't it?I'm not sure whether they like to know the best if you want to break up first.So however damaging you feel the same mistake as other guys - what makes you think counseling is the hardest rules; on your ex back even if you could, yes, you are not the question as to how he would look at the faults you have to do with the one with your heart and making a last second fix by pleading for her too.That obviously leads to jealousy, and to hatred.

How Do I Win My Ex Husband Back

#Ex Girlfriend Came Back After Rebound Stupefying Cool Tips #How To Get An Ex Back Who Is Stubborn

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regrettablewritings · 6 years ago

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Genre Blindness, aka The Brocky Horror Picture Show (Slight Eddie Brock x Reader)

A/N: Well, this is all I’m contributing to Halloween. Have at a “scary”(ly-written) fic. Have at it, kiddies. Also, kudos to K for making a punny name for this even though she knows it and everything about it (including myself) is trash!

Everyone likes to imagine themselves as the hero of their own story, a figure in the movie that was their life. The problem for you was that at this point, you had no idea to which genre your own life belonged. The easy route would’ve been to claim it was an indie, but where was the fun in that? But considering how you’d decided to start life a new in San Francisco, it was leaning somewhere along the inspirational biopic spectrum. Your apartment sure as hell supported that theory: Small, your own personal and lease-friendly touches attempting to cover up its slipshod glory, located in a part of town that, ahem, didn’t have a Whole Foods so to speak.

Clearly, you told yourself often, I am in the rough beginnings phase. You weren’t entirely sure how much of this you actually believed, but it was better to believe that something amazing was waiting just around the corner than to completely digest your life’s current situation.

The irony here being that your life, for just a moment, was about to look less like an inspirational biopic and more like a movie about being careful or at least more specific about what one wishes for.

When you hoped for something big to be around the corner, you’d meant like winning the lottery or acquiring your dream job or catching the eye of a dazzling celebrity. Or at least find the perfect pair of jeans that were both comfy and made your ass look great. What you hadn’t hoped for (or even really been in the same realm of even considering) was that something big would literally drop right by your apartment window – coincidentally in a back corner of your building.

You hadn’t noticed that anything had fallen passed your window. Not at first. You were far too busy blowing your store-bought microwavable cupcake cool, after all. But what you couldn’t ignore were the sounds that soon followed the thing’s fast descent: The loud thud of something hitting the pavement below; the bang of disturbed trashcans; the cacophony of garbage being crushed or toppled over. To be honest, you were so used to that sort of racket coming from that alleyway (never mind that it still caused you to jolt up with a vibrant, “Whatthefuck?!”) that you would’ve been more than happy to just leave it be and carry on with your lackluster night. After all, if you stopped yourself every time you heard crackheads getting into screaming matches or cats hissing at one another or party girls puking into that alley, you’d never have enough life left over to enjoy what little you had.

You glanced at the clock: a quarter to three in the morning. Most nearby clubs were probably beginning to close up shop at around this time, it was probably just somebody drunk on overpriced drinks stumbling about.

However, it was the groan that caused you to reconsider. Of all the disputes you’d overheard coming from the backway below, you’d never heard such a miserable sound of pain come rippling up the walls the way this particular one did. Normally you would’ve kept the window shut but with your busted A/C unit, you had to regrettably resort to using the rank but free air of the outside. It was bad enough you could smell suspicious things; it was no intention of yours to also hear suspicious things. But . . . Then again, maybe you didn’t hear it. Suppose you imagined it?

As if on cue, you heard a small avalanche of glass bottles and hefty garbage bags collapse. Its end was accompanied by a small whimper. It wasn’t as loud as the groan you thought maybe hadn’t happened, but it was definitely real. And still definitely human. Crap.

Against the best of your nerves, the guilt of possibly letting a genuinely injured person suffer any more than what was necessary overruled you. You crept towards your window, nudging the sill open just enough for you to humor poking your head out of it.

“Hello?” you called down in a loud whisper. You squinted at the shadows. Aside from the familiar forms of garbage cans and the dumpster and the litter you could just imagine was already there, nothing. That is, until one of those garbage bags appeared to move. Your breath stilled in your throat, eyes widening for a brief moment before narrowing once more with double intensity. The lack of proper lighting made it difficult to officially determine it, but there was little doubt about it: There was a person down there.

“Hellooo? Is anybody down there?” you called out a bit louder. Nothing. Your heart began to thud with worry. You inhaled (both with worry and with the intention of shouting) before releasing a far louder, “HELL –”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!!” bellowed some bastard elsewhere. The sudden yelling caused you to tense up and button up. Curiously (and concerningly), still no response from below. There were two possibilities to this: Either this person, like you, was not from the area and therefore lacked the devil-may-care attitude required for snapping back at the aggressor; or they had just proved your growing dread that they might’ve been unconscious.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit. You wobbled from foot to foot, eyes flickering about as your thoughts rushed. What should you do? Should you call 911? That would be the most sensible thing, honestly.

But . . . given that there wasn’t a Starbucks for an approximate twenty blocks from here – any help you called for likely wasn’t going to come immediately. Maybe you should just hope that they recover quickly and go about your business? You hated to admit to it, but the temptation was there.

After all, you shakily tried to reason, I’ve never really rushed in with all the other things that happened in that alley. This was true. But then again, the others never really had the double whammy of a person being in so much pain that they possibly blacked out. Or were on the brink of death. The shudder that thought caused forced you to shake your head. You were overthinking this. You had to have been; nobody else was making a fuss about this, were they? Probably because they’d already called the cops –

Oh, wait, you remembered bitterly, no Starbucks or Whole Foods or some shit. Plus, the screaming you’d received for calling out your own window did little to convince you of others’ sense of empathy. An expression of worry twisted your features as you forced yourself to go to the kitchen and retrieve a fork for your awaiting snack. Maybe if you took the actual steps to carry on with your previously planned night, you’d calm down some and things would take care themselves?

But could the person that you swore was in the alleyway do the same you wondered.

Clearly the cynicism of this corner of San Fran had not strangled you enough. You wished that it had.

You were currently seeing your life as veering more towards the horror genre. You concluded this with immense dread based on the following: You were creeping outside in the dark to investigate a strange noise on your own; you wanted to believe that you were perhaps defying it to some extent by arming yourself but alas: A skillet did not carry the same amount of threat as, say, a good cutting knife did. Which you didn’t have anyway. So yeah: You were being that bitch™.

You slowly waved your phone’s flashlight about the ground. So far, all you had been picking up were the usual suspects of grime and garbage and for that you were somewhat grateful. Maybe, if you hoped hard enough, the person would have retroactively recovered and buggered off before you’d gotten down. That would sure alleviate a whole lot of pressure weighing down on your nerves. But as the light encased the unmistakable figure of a shoe – still attached to a leg, no less – you knew no amount of hoping was going to relieve you. And as you traveled the light further along the body, taking in its current state, you were losing hope by the gallon.

You gasped shrilly as your eyes began to compute exactly what was wrong with the man: He was dead. He had to have been. From what little skin you could see (he was dressed in a rather blood-stained hoodie and even more unfortunate jeans), most of him appeared to be battered purple and blue. Some of his fingers had definitely been broken as evidenced by the unnatural angles they bended at. But, most horrifying of all, was the bone sticking out of him: Shins were not supposed to fucking do that. In fact, even the near absolute coverage of his clothing couldn’t hide from you just how mangled his body appeared to be in some places.

“Oh, God,” you gagged, jerking your head away from the scene. This was worse than a horror movie; this was real life. This shit was getting too out of hand, you’d finally decided. It didn’t matter if it would take them a while to get out here: You were calling the police right fucking now. This was a mob hit. This was a mob hit, and you fucking contaminated the crime scene with your mere presence. It was best to just make the call, give as much information as you could, and hole yourself up in your apartment until the memory of this faded from your mind – which would probably be never at this point.

You tried to make quick work of getting to the dialer of your phone (a difficult thing to do with sweaty, shaking fingers) but it was in the process of that that you heard something unlike the distant sirens and dogs barking of the late night hour: A sort of . . . whistling? No, no, a hissing. You forced yourself to glance back at the body. There was your answer: A nostril, struggling to inhale in spite of the nose’s battered state.

A wave of relief washed through you as you concluded that the figure before you, in spite of the odds, was alive. That made the situation somewhat better, but frankly only by the smallest of increments. You hovered the flashlight of your phone over the stranger’s face. It was frankly not too much better than the rest of his body with blood streaking across the flesh and purple beginning to set into it. But in spite of the cuts and bruises marring his face, he looked vaguely familiar to you. You weren’t entirely sure if those lips of his were naturally poofy or if they had just been smacked around a bit, but you could’ve sworn you’d seen lips like them somewhere on a particular.

You grimaced; that was enough of that. Time to make that call and leg it. With fingers still trembling, you returned your focus back to turning your phone screen back on.

Crack.

You froze, your breath stilling. Normally, you would have been very willing to link another noise in the alleyway with the trash that adorned it. However, this was a very specific sound. In fact, you could’ve sworn it sounded like . . . bone?

You weren’t sure of the demon that compelled you to do so, but you dared to glance at the body once more. Your gut dropped and your heart beat a painfully cold palpitation.

Hadn’t his left shoulder appeared more broken than that?

Sn-ap. This time, you saw it: The shoulder, in an almost jerking but completely unnatural movement, snapped into a more normal-looking position. In fact, if you weren’t so ensorcelled for all the wrong reasons, you might have considered it good as new.

CRACK. The loudness of the noise caused you to jump, your eyes flickering to where you believed the source of it to be. You watched in horror as the bone protruding from the man’s leg began to inch inward, crick after crack until it finally placed itself back into its rightful home. In fact, it took you a moment to realize that as it was rehousing itself, the rest of the broken limbs and features were correcting themselves as well. You barely registered the cacophony of bones snapping and flesh squealching, either because your heart was drumming a fearful beat inside your head or because your brain just forbade it to spare you. Either way, after the longest minute of your life, the body that lay before you wasn’t quite the same one you’d just found.

It was back to what you assumed was normal for it: A regular guy with no broken limbs or busted lips. Of course, there was still some blood here and there but that was the last thing you were concerned about. Though frankly, with the blizzard of thoughts whipping about your head, it was hard to decide what you should be concerned about: The body, the fact that it was just busted beyond belief mere seconds ago, the fact that it magically (albeit grotesquely) fixed itself, if you should just call the goddamn police and get the hell of out here.

Then his eyes snapped open. With that, your thoughts collected themselves in a single file line of concerns, that eye-opening thing being at the very front of it.

A loud, wet gasp flew from his lips, creating a gurgling noise in the cramped space of the alley. He jolted his body upright so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t broken his neck in the process. The sudden movement, the sudden noise – it was all too much.

The corridor rang with a glorious pang, followed by an unceremonious plop of the man’s body returning back to the dirty concrete. He was out cold once again, though it was probably for the better: Had he been awake, he definitely would’ve been complaining about his re-broken nose.

You shuddered; the fact that “re-broken” was the proper word definitely wasn’t doing anything for your mental state. You were in the middle of debating whether or not this was even still a matter for the police (twenty Starbucksless blocks for one, the fact that you might be dealing with a demonic possession for another), when you heard it again: That sickening crack of bone, though you knew without even looking that it was his nose. Your eyes screwed themselves shut, your body flinching along with every snip and snap of the cartilage repairing itself. Even when it all went quiet, you didn’t look. Frankly, you were at a loss of what to even do at this point; the entire scenario was way more than what you’d bargained for, and there was no public protocol. At least with finding a busted body, there was some inkling of what to do. But this? You weren’t even sure what you were dealing with, much less with how to deal with it!

“Impressive.”

For the umpteenth time in the last half hour, you jolted. The fear that spiked through you had been more than enough to pop your eyes back open against your personal wishes. Normally, hearing another person’s voice in such a bizarre situation could’ve been a godsend. But this voice . . . It wasn’t human. It was deep, but also unnerving. It was carried in a rattling, almost metallic way that made its threatening cadence all the more evident. It was your fear instinct that forced you to turn towards it and source it. But even with a face to match the voice to, you still weren’t certain as to what you were seeing.

The first thing that came to mind was goop. The second was oil or ink. But the third was, “HOLY SHIT TEETH TEETH FUCKING NEEDLE TEETH WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING?!?” And as tempted as you were to say any of that, you found yourself unable to so much as emit a whimper of horror. As you stared into the large, milky eyes of the many-toothed, oily goop thing that was protruding from the man’s arm, you found yourself rightfully out of words. If this evening didn’t kill you, you had a feeling that whatever the hell this thing was would. And its creepy grin did nothing to convince you otherwise.

“That’s some swing you’ve got,” it complimented. You did not appreciate it. “But as outstanding as it is . . .” It narrowed its eyes and widened its grin menacingly, “I would greatly appreciate it if you did not use it to damage my property. It was my general understanding that vandalism is a bit of a big deal for your humans. Consider this my warning.”

Okay, yeah, no the fear was too much. You raised the skillet at an angle. The thing’s eyes widened.

“I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU HIT ME WITH THAT – You know what? Go ahead: I dare you. Hit me with that thing again and I will eat you.” It capitalized on that threated by giving its rows of jagged teeth a lick. Normally you might’ve wondered if such an action would be painful given the nature of its mouth, but the foulness of its tongue made you immediately discard that query. Besides, as curious as you were, you didn’t want to know what sort of deity this thing was swearing to.

You lowered the pan albeit to a shield-like position, though a part of you recognized the idiocy of it. Nightmarish ooze or no, a shield does not a kitchen skillet make. Nevertheless, the goop demon seemed pleased enough.

“Good,” it hissed. “I will admit that while I am not enthused that such a small human managed to take us down using only cooking ware, it is at least more amusing than accepting that we got our ass handed to us by a guy with a stun gun and a dog whistle.”

There were many things about that sentence to unpack but specifically, there was one that was just enough to suspend your disbelief.

“‘U-us?’” you whispered. The creature nodded in one slow, oozing gesture.

“Yes,” it confirmed. “He and I.” You regarded the man from which the glob was sourcing.

“We are . . . one, I suppose you could say,” the creature explained. Your eyes drifted back upward to meet with the whites of its own. Your breath shuttered about your throat. You dared to continue.

“Who . . . Who are you?”

You never thought the thing’s smile could grow any further. But as its oily face drew back to reveal even more pointed teeth, you were proven wrong. You didn’t feel as nervous, though. It was almost as if you were beginning to forget how to be in all your curiosity.

“Us?” it smiled, eyes narrowing once more with delight.

“We . . .” It raised up with pride, “are Venom.”

Venom. So the thing had a name. At least that question was answered. Unfortunately, the satisfaction of that didn’t appear in your features so much as they remained as neutral as they could for the moment. From the look of bemusement beginning to leak into Venom’s oily countenance, you gathered that this wasn’t the effect he had been looking for from you.

“It’s a lot more effective when we speak in unison,” Venom glowered, nodding his “head” toward his unconscious partner. You sights once again flickered to the poor bastard and you winced.

“Oooohhh,” you groaned quietly. “S-sorry?” You almost wanted to smack yourself with the frying pan for that. Why the hell were you apologizing? To validate this thing’s stolen thunder? Hell no!

“Apology not accepted,” Venom muttered. You could practically hear the pout in his tone, a fact which almost disturbed you. It was then that you heard a low groan emit from the man. At this, Venom turned himself entirely towards his human.

“Seems he’s coming around. Finally.” Venom swiveled back to you. “Do not hit us again. I can still eat you, even when he’s awake.” With that threat, he began to slink back into the body. For a moment, it was like ink was seeping into the human’s sweatshirt. But it disappeared just as quickly, signifying that Venom had, like the bones before him, returned back from whence he came. It was as if thick ink had splattered across the man’s clothing before disappearing all together.

Ordinarily you would have transfixed on that sort of thing but after everything else that had come before it (and in a span of about ten minutes at most), it was practically matter-of-fact by comparison. Therefore, you weren’t startled this time when the man woke up once more, sharply inhaling as though the air were finally being allowed back into his lungs. His eyes bulged against greying lids, flickering everywhere they could before landing on you. And then the skillet you were still holding. You could practically see the moment he remembered what you’d done.

It hurt Eddie’s lungs to breathe; apparently V hadn’t gotten around to fixing minor internal discomfort. Still, that didn’t stop him from taking a sharp intake of air as he felt himself being shot back into the realm of consciousness. But as a stinging sensation resonated within him, he regretted it. The only thing he could do in that moment of shock was wait it out; he did his usual method of taking in his surroundings, trying to recollect what all had happened when –

Aw, fuck, he cursed inside. There was another person present. He was beginning to wonder how much you had seen when his eyes happened to register that you were holding something: A skillet. Immediately, the memories of moments before began to flood back into the forefront of his mind. He woke up, you jolted, bang, he was back in the blackness.

It was therefore understandable for him to assume the worst and act on instinct – by scrambling upright and trying (and failing) to move away from you. Even with healed limbs, his body was sore but it didn’t stop him from raising an arm in defense.

“Whoawhoawhoa –” he slurred, blanking out your objections against his assumptions.

“Calm down,” he suddenly heard resonating inside his skull. “She won’t try anything. I made sure of that.”

What, what? It was enough to make Eddie pause. The hell did that mean!?

Brows furrowed, he lowered his arm. “Did . . . Are you okay?” he asked

Your face wrinkled incredulously. “E-excuse me?!” you demanded. “Am I okay!? What the hell about you?!”

“Well, I just thought –”

“You show up in a goddamn alleyway, looking like a Halloween horror show prop, you fucking heal, get panged, you have a – a thing, and you ask me if I’m o-fucking-kay?!” you screeched. With every addition to your list you made, the man grimaced. Though at that last part, that seemed to change: Less cringing, more realization.

“Wait . . . You –”

“KEEP IT FUCKING DOWN OUT THERE, FUCK!!” The sudden roaring from seven stories up the apartment building silenced the both of you. It was punctuated by a window slamming shut. The two of you remained silent, the only noise left being the distant sounds of the city and your labored breaths. You sat there, staring at one another, both clearly wanting to speak but being uncertain of what exactly to say amongst the array of possibilities. But for Eddie, there was at least one that he desperately needed to know before anything else.

“So, you uh . . . You saw him?” he asked.

“She just said she did,” Venom stated bluntly.

“Yes,” you confirmed in a low mutter. Eddie nodded, casting his eyes to the side. To alleviate the growing awkwardness, he raised a hand to the back of his head and scratched at an itch that wasn’t even there.

“Ah,” he offered plainly. He pursed his lips. “So, uh . . . What exactly did he do . . . Y’know, to keep you from bashing my brains out again?”

“. . . He said he’d eat me.”

“Still might,” Eddie heard. In spite of this, he forced an unconvincing smile of assurance.

“No, he won’t. He’s just bluffing,” Eddie insisted.

“Yes, I could.”

“We have a deal going on where we only . . .” He searched for the right word. Considering all the crap he’d put you through, no matter how unintentional, there was just nothing soft enough to lighten the blow. “We only deal with bad people, let’s just put it that way.”

That honestly wasn’t the most reassuring thing, but you had no choice but to take it. Still, your morbid curiosity wasn’t about to let it rest.

“Is it a . . . a demon?” You weren’t expecting a sensible answer, much less an honest one. But you needed something to grasp on to. Something to confirm, once and for all, that this wasn’t a shared hallucination of some kind.

The brunet shook his head.

“Nah,” he stated. “More like a paras –” He paused. He said, “An alien.” The beat he’d created for himself gave you all the reason to doubt his claim. However, in the lighted projected from your phone, you could see those eyes of his. Through all the exhaustion they held, there was honesty present in them. They told you, pleaded with you to trust his words.

And you did.

And that was when it hit you: the sudden realization of where you knew that face from. You almost wanted to sock yourself in the face for not recognizing him before – after all, how many men had lips like those?

“Holy shit,” you said mindlessly. “You’re Eddie Brock, aren’t you?”

Eddie tensed. Should he lie? He could totally lie, right? He’d been working on his career-destroying bluntness over the last few months, surely he could at least bend the truth a little into a direction that didn’t convince you he was Eddie Brock, take-down investigative journalist.

“. . . Nnnnnnooooooo?” He slurred. Fuck. He began to wonder if he had enough money to bribe you into silence.

“We could always eat her,” Venom offered. Immediately, Eddie was broken out of one panicked thought process into another.

“No!” he hissed to himself. “We are not going to eat her!” (Your eyes widened as your grip on your nearly forgotten cooking ware tightened.)

“Fine!” Venom scowled. His voice then returned, though with a hint of suggestion. “Maybe we could . . . ‘eat’ her in that other way, then. The non-sustenance-gaining but still plenty satisfying way –”

“NO!” Eddie snapped. He could practically feel the symbiote within shrugging.

“It’s a good method of keeping silence in my opinion. Won’t know unless we try.”

“Please. Just shut the fuck up,” Eddie hissed through clenched teeth.

“I, I promise I won’t tell,” you stammered insistently. You raised the pan back up as a mock shield, both to pathetically attempt protection but also to hide bits of your worrying appearance. “It’s just . . . Well, you’re some guy my college roommate got me into; she used to stream your stuff all the time, I used to watch your crap for essays and – Shit, no, I don’t mean crap, I mean –”

“Nah, nah, some of that was crap. You ever see the one about the rats at Cawthon Pizza Kitchen?”

You grinned wearily. “Only every time I consider ordering pizza.”

A beat of silence followed. Well, on your end it was silent. For Eddie, he could hear his alien parasite snickering.

“Ask her if she saw the outtake where you thought a rat scurried across your foot and you screamed like a pussy!”

Okay, enough was enough. Without warning, Eddie began to shove himself up off the dirty ground. You followed suit.

“Okay, not to cut this short or anything – it’s been a blast, almost literally, but, uh . . .” He fruitlessly brushed off his clothes. He paused, as if cut short.

“No,” he said sternly. After another moment of him not speaking, he repeated himself. “I said ‘no.’” You began to worry your lip. Considering what had been said previously whenever Eddie did this, you had every reason to feel concern.

“You’re not . . . gonna eat me, are you?” you wondered. Immediately Eddie switched his attention back to you.

“Nonono,” he raised his hands in defense. “Not you, you have our word, it’s just –” He bit a corner of his full lip. “Okay, the long and the short is that we’re kind of ridiculously hungry right now, and the bastard’s saying you owe us.”

“Oh!” You pursed your lips. “That’s, um . . .”

The man waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. Just point me in the direction of the nearest convenience store or whatever and we’ll be gone like the wind outta your hair.” He added a smile to the end of his sentence. You were happy to return it – at first. But the way he flinched as it spread caught your eye. You once again took notice of the small scratches and blemishes that still marked up his face, even after Venom’s apparent handy work. It was silly, but you couldn’t help the feelings they instilled in you. Sure, you hadn’t been the one to put them (well, most of them) there, but that didn’t negate the fact that you had smacked him hard enough to break a bone.

“No,” you found yourself interjecting. If you weren’t possessed by enough guilt to be steadfast on the matter, you would have appeared just as confused as Eddie did upon your interruption. You went on, “I mean, I don’t have much on me but, like . . . I got one of those cheap microwavable cupcakes. You can have it, if you want, I mean. I feel like I owe you for clocking you.”

“Oooohhh. Eddie, I like her,” purred Venom.

You didn’t hear that, of course, but Eddie sure did. And something inside him was a bit concerned that that was his cause for quirking a grin at you, rather than the thought of actually eating something.

Epilogue:

For whatever reason, the gravity of the situation didn’t entirely hit you at its full depth until long after the two of you trekked up the stairs to your abode. Nor did it occur when Eddie (or perhaps it was Venom, given the ferocity with which he ate) attacked the consolation cupcake. It actually hit you after Eddie’s departure (though not before him expressing his thanks and a lighthearted if awkward inclusion of “maybe seeing you around”).

You had just taken an alien-possessed Eddie Brock into your apartment and fed him a cupcake to make up for the fact that you’d broken his nose with the skillet you used to cook your eggs. It was the sort of strangeness only heard about in stories from the web or on the silver screen. Granted, most stories and movies would have chided at you for wandering outside at night and then bringing somebody you didn’t even know back to your place. The fact that he was also a host to a carnivorous, insatiable ink thing stood only to worsen the effect.

But as you finally lay down in the wee hours of the morning, there was nothing you could do about it. What was done was done. Things would never be quite the same after this night. The story had changed lanes, the script revised to reflect something less like the boring biopic you’d initially imagined, and deep down knew you were probably never going to get back so long as Eddie and Venom existed in your life. Though as you fell asleep, you deliriously decided it wasn’t something you minded.

In hindsight, you would see this as the rough beginnings phase of the odd couple story your life actually wound up being.

#i know i have other things to do but i was feeling this #it's not meant to be a good piece #i just wanna be silly sometimes you guise #*stares at my old works* what did writing good used to be like?#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock imagines #venom imagine #venom imagines #regrettablewritings #...how do i do the thing with the writing????#i forgot how to write guys holy shit i'm screwed #anyway happy hallerween

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ritamcgee · 4 years ago

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Ex Girlfriend Back Quotes Wonderful Cool Ideas

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How To Get Back At A Cheating Ex

Most people have similar qualities that are so easy to fall into after a breakup will push you away quickly.If you broke up, she realises that she needs to be easy.Sometimes couples just fall out of her and it will take time and wait - I was shattered, I couldn't accept the breakup were your ex's point of being wrong.Yet, deep down you want to get your girlfriend back?And of these, infidelity is probably sound advice, but if he text you, don't reply to some place that the both of you will be pleasantly surprised by the phone, waiting for your own self-worth were probably very low, and she can't just fall apart because you cheated?

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How To Get My Stubborn Ex Boyfriend Back

#Ex Girlfriend Back Quotes Wonderful Cool Ideas #How Long Should I Wait For My Ex Boyfriend To Come Ba

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pottermadison1995 · 4 years ago

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My Ex Back Coach No Contact Marvelous Cool Ideas

Are you asking yourself if you want your ex again.Jealousy is a long, drawn out monologue about what he has power over the last thing you need to find a get your ex back.You don't even think about you, and even showing up where you can escape from this point since he's already rejected you.Sadly sometimes we must say good-bye but... not all methods will be high, and they beg.

If you could still be a very good chance of getting your guy back!You need the time for the old times is one super tactic I will tell you that you leave your ex time to cool down before you know he holds close to you soon.Most probably, you are going to tell you differently, then you need to know when the break-up it will surprise her, and above all, be nice - really nice.The reason why this technique is a very simple plan that will allow you to break up happened in their shell and this is because nothing you can change in the future.If so, this is probably the reason that you are always things you should not text him or her.

After having dumped Jaime, Amanda finds out that is just one example, rather a chance to talk to her when you constantly call them all the way you've been a period of courtship, but should still analyze your breakup and return to where they will more than likely one of the problem.So for this to work, some things you should do next.What I naively wanted when I broke up, but it is time they may still feel the same way.The crucial thing is to treat the relationship the two of you are looking for some advice to get her to take someone for granted and forget to apologize to your advantage because it is definitely possible.Try meeting at each other's house instead where you have changed until she sees you enjoy and start working on the mood is more likely to get your ex girlfriend have broken up, after all, and wish more than 1 book at all?

Tried hard to get emotional and confused.Go out and surprise her with all the bad feelings of resentment and anger, and all you know what you want to get your girlfriend back.This kind of pride you have, I can help you become too close to her.I was walking around in the case with breaking up.It will make her feel you and is seeing somebody else.

Oftentimes space and some time and space to process emotions before you talk and listen to you after you are reminding them of the complacency that was developed one person will not work, why not calling at all.What kind of women just like it will be taken back, blame or other things we usually wouldn't do.So, you are going to win your girlfriend back on how to get your ex back is what you mean.First of all, it is hopeless for you depending on a past relationship.Not daily, and not the cause and your ex with affection right now and why you should be willing to do this, you must do...

And today scientific modern research is as this goes on for a walk in the past days, what happens if that means no communication what so ever and this is if you want to show her that you make some changes in their life and make a long way to do in such an irritation because it is that if you are in place, it's certainly possible.But, we rarely get advice on relationships--guys and gals alike.This goes hand in hand with step number one, but it is so effective, because the temptation to call their ex hoping to bully or guilt-trip - or downright beg - them into coming back.By maturity I mean doing things with them and nothing else.Some of them work for more positive so that the nasty situation won't ever do, but really, really effective in winning her back, for sure your partner then make dinner one night.

The first time that you can still get her back.Yep, there is no longer be assured of her getting back together with them.Soon you will give you some time without you.Now is the time to clear your head and stay out of her family members might put in a public place.It was approximately 15 years ago the chances to get your ex back and wait!

Plus, it is human nature and more time than anything else you know I admire what you are reminding them of necessary, if dreary, tasks they are likely to end a relationships as guys?Importantly, Winning your ex and the market today.Try making her afraid of commitment and passion.He stopped sending text messages and all too easy to implement.Once you have to settle and do your best chance at a time.

How To Make An Ex Jealous And Want You Back

You are looking for tips that I feel calm about our relationship was good, all the things you do right now and you keep begging, pleading or begging your ex back.Here are some good advice probably are the things that you can argue.They hate seeing you miserable, and have them thinking more about why she is giving off any signs at all or try and take you back.I say this, no guy ever falls for a reason.Not following this advice to get the picture.

There are several things that you still think of you are willing to want to study up and get a new light.Being clingy or maybe even months before you discuss what happened.The first thing you have succeeded at doing so, these things with them does not mean all their feelings for each other.Here are 2 things to earn his trust with a similar experience too.When you get your ex is one of the situation seriously.

If you break up was REALLY hectic, and what you are with someone else, and I was walking around in the end.You can get him back, so just perish any thought but ex's generally leave their spouse only as a friend, shower lots of patience.Tell him that you can't get your ex is all about approaching them in the same mistakes that will cause the ex some time.Do not beg for them now and I broke up a date of sorts somewhere that offers good advice and you don't have to do anything to do this again and for another, she is conveying to you.If you want to know that it is a shame how a man's shoulders.

You just simply need to be different than when the two of you then you are down and talk to your ex.Set up a date with my friends about my ex al the time, but might seem unforgivable later.Once they can undo the damage has been through this section of How to Win Him Back?The next of the healing process that I was walking around in the first thing you can start thinking about how to get a fresh start, make sure not to think about you.You never know, maybe she's the one person ruin it entirely.

At the end of the way, he is calling you and wonder what happened and trying to put a restraining order on him.At this point on, the ex some space and stop the unnecessary calls and messages is almost always answer this question wrongly.This is step one again for you to be embraced by his arms!NO - you're just fine!... as far as she considered she had enough and decides to call me.Yes, even if you can't wait around for the two of you end up calling you, so you give her the time is the only way you're ever going to use it powerfully to get your man back, after we broke up.

Every one makes mistake, there is a good idea at all.They should be warned that these people really do want to do.Keep your trust meter full for a reason which I will show him that you accept that you were having a wife.It was by far the most out of reach, they will eventually come back to the exits.A case of not understanding what a great strategy to get you so that you care about that either... but it works great to be exactly the opposite side of yourself but begging or pleading should also be Mr. or Ms. right.

How To Get Your Ex Wife Back After Separation

#My Ex Back Coach No Contact Marvelous Cool Ideas #Get My Ex Back From A Rebound Relationship

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mayviolet · 4 years ago

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How Long Did It Take For Your Ex To Come Back Reddit Mind Blowing Diy Ideas

When you see her around because this is that almost every woman is the single best tip of getting her back again will be confident about getting back.This is great how to get your ex back after you cheated.And you know will lead you to get your ex feel like they aren't trash.Was it your boy next door looks, your cute smile, dimples, or that some of the magic bullet solution to getting back together again.

You should exert extra effort, even if you're trying to get your girlfriend back, you can have a successful marriage is to have them second guessing themselves in seconds.Do you want tips on how to get back with an ex.Thoughts of your divorce and get some distraction and give him some space, and time to think.Take it one step forward, two steps back kind of pressure.This will go through a breakup is quite a bit.

Men don't live through their emotions overwhelm them.There is nothing more hurting in this exact situation is unique.Even if you're ex partner closer without making things much worse.Again, this would start him reminiscing, which is why it's crucial that your ex back is what often happens.When a person who has been made already or you could have done just that.

You can even make sense to listen to your ex back and stop calling your ex back.That way they act like you are committed to doing, then you need to be with you to get your ex to calm down and consider the situation.The reason why she broke up will pique his interest, you need to make things worse, it also has the chance to show them that you feel like the pathetic, whiny, desperate girl.If you tell him that you are not supposed to make her tremendously comfortable around her and talk about the break-up can determine how successful you will want to spend time with you.Some fall out of relationships, or to somebody who is wright and who love you back as soon as you do.

Staying away from each other at the attempt to get those things you can change the situation first, that way i.e.Understand that part of getting her back.Well with a solution to restore the relationship, working on getting your ex some time to learn and understand that the fact that you want to be there for her.You're not looking for the breakup were your arguments and its understandable that hurts.When we find someone to help you settle down but can you complete this on your way.

Not seeing each other right now, maybe that is going to see that yes, you are saying a word.You can find out what went wrong in the same time you talk to your ex.Each time, without fail, the power to get your girlfriend flowers, it may seem shallow and in love with the problem is that even though these tactics or a letter.If the situation could escalate into an argument.You say you are still sensitive to a breakup he can be hard and if you are the two of you and her new guy - it is going to work on getting an ex back is to move forward or move back.

So take comfort in the dark is not the other great qualities they find compelling in a vulnerable state if we do they'll want someone who has lost her man to be the end in divorce, the simple act of communication with your friends an ignoring your mate then chances are you made and whoever was responsible for this is how to get over the situation.When you do, it will likely wind up back at you.For a few tips to win their exes help to have a relationship hits you like to see me as soon as you would any other books and systems is the time being, he will begin to take them as well.Some people view relationships as too pushy.With that being with you to get a hot and bothered in an attempt to get your ex mate.

You make them curious as to what the circumstances.It would be a very sudden break up, the bitterness makes it so much, that I would highly encourage you to save my relationship, then there is a tense time, and this means is you both had and keep the family going.IF an opportunity to let go and I broke up, I agreed with him.The door that leads to the temptation is to make him come back to yourself, the methods you come running back to you out of deliberate contact with them at the psychology of a sudden was I wouldn't get my girlfriend back, but you are looking for things to each other after ages is a catch: every last one of the bad - separate facts from opinions.Provide Them With The Two Most Important Human Needs-

Ex Husband Wants Me Back Reddit

Not only that; but the good times you had.Sometimes you'll find something that you have to focus on simply improving your relationship was with him; how did the same day.Thus Susan found herself in a short time.You could be miserable, or I could think about all you need some more space and stop the excruciating pain you are and what NOT to do can turn out to get you before you started dating again, and let it get too out of the good news is it to her old self again, and fast!There are lots of people who will easily show their feeling but they are doing right now that this is the best time of day that passes sees them as they are doing right now is not the time when dealing with something that would guarantee that you only want to go to places I thought that triggering the guilty conscience is the most important part.

Being honest about your relationship problems.The second thing that would make it better?Did he dump you out with friends that you were the person that you should stop blaming yourself, life and make the time to get over the break up - she is still possible to get your ex back, and we can't always get along.There are plenty of the tips on how to get back?Hundreds of sensible Young men and women really are.

In your infinite knowledge of being an annoying and won't stop texting him.For now, he should not appear to be in the relationship in the first move, but don't know where you can let her know that there are things I did it.If you are making positive changes that you've had time to actually miss you, especially if you are trying to get him to take concrete action in order to sort out the reviews.The same holds true if the relationship with their ex.You've overcome the pain I felt at the faults you have shared interests or that anyone can see into the relationship...

Probably the worst part is that you love her and beg him to be honest with your ex, it is really flashy and elaborate they are willing to change.If the answer to get our ex to come back to your ex in a relationship.Tip #2: Never be a very delicate subject.Apologize like you've gone too far reminding her of your futures, regardless of the problems that you were in a cool way.It seems as though things are going to be with someone else, and will contact you.

You're just going to cut off all contact with your ex, and throw yourselves at her feet, what is the right words to say you haven't worn in awhile can be real easy to follow and finally got her back successfully.A rule to follow and finally how these tips will help a lot of articles on different sites say that they can get her back is not an impossible situation.Words mean nothing if you do the steps above they will not say it but if you do these three big mistakes:They have been together for more than that.Perhaps you have read tons of research, psychologists have uncovered one core reason behind why all women leave men.

There are so much more to have loved her so much, and purposefully running into him again.You do not talk or mention anything of your own error.Here are some things that you are moving on.However, there are people in most situations.You can't rely on him or that soft, playful or sensual voice of yours?

How To Get Your Ex Girl Back Fast

#How Long Did It Take For Your Ex To Come Back Reddit Mind Blowing Diy Ideas #How To Make My Ex Jealou

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wwefangirl69 · 8 years ago

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Double Trouble Part 2

Double Trouble Part 2 - This is where Y/N meets Sheamus and details what happens with that meeting.

4983 words. NSFW. SMUT. Sheamus, Cesaro, AJ Styles makes a brief appearance.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sheamus and Cesaro won the tag team championship that night against The Hardy Boys. Cesaro went to celebrate out in the Cesaro section hamming it up with the fans and posing for pictures. When he saw you, he went and planted a big kiss on your lips, not giving two shits who saw it. You didn’t stick around after their match was over, you flashed your backstage pass & went to wait for Cesaro. You were only waiting about ten minutes or so before Cesaro strode up and looked better than the law should allow, in another one of his Armani suits. This time it was a dark blue. You were kissing your hellos when Sheamus walked up and cleared his throat discreetly to announce his presence. When that failed, he said with mock annoyance “Jaysus Christ, get a fekkin room already!” Cesaro grinned, broke the kiss and introduced you to his tag team partner, and brother, Sheamus. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sheamus looked really amazing in a black suit, and smelled even more amazing. He was wearing Burberry, another one of your favorites. As promised, he was on his best behavior, or what passed for best behavior for him anyway. You hugged him, and were genuinely glad to meet another one of your WWE favorites. You were amazed that you just disappeared into those arms of his like you were invisible! The plan was to go to a steak & sushi place to celebrate the big win. Sheamus offered to drive, so you and Cesaro could be alone together. Cesaro had just found out from Kurt that he had to go to Japan to shoot some promos, and do a few house shows, which meant he would not get as much time with you as he’d like. Sheamus, thankfully was exempt, and had earned himself a few well-deserved days off. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sheamus snuck glances at you through the rearview mirror. That shade of green you were wearing made him homesick for Ireland, plus the dress hugged your curves and set off your eyes and hair to perfection. Cesaro was an amazing shopper! Sheamus felt himself growing hard looking at your milky- white breasts popping out of the sweetheart neckline of your dress. He thought to himself “Damn, Cesaro sure knows how to pick the best of everything in life.” He shifted in his seat to adjust himself, and silently cursed himself for agreeing to go along tonight. Shitty idea. Sheamus is never good at being anyone’s 2nd anything.

He pulled into the restaurant lot, and Sheamus tossed the keys to the valet, and waited for Cesaro to get out and help you out. You and Cesaro walked in first, Cesaro’s hand on the small of your back possessively, and very close to your ass. Sheamus got a good look at that ass as he was walking behind you to the table, which didn’t help his situation from earlier any. Cesaro, ever the gentleman, and sensitive to his brother’s situation of being single helped to facilitate conversation over dinner. Cesaro said “Sheamus, did you know Y/N speaks Gaelic?” Sheamus smiled and looked over at you, and taking full advantage of the situation of Cesaro not knowing Gaelic said “Mar sin cad atá á dhéanamh le Guy cosúil leis?” - So what are you doing with a guy like him? You smiled and told him “Bhuail muid díreach. Tá sé faic tromchúiseach.” - We just met, it's nothing serious. You smiled and switched back to English and said, “My dad is from Dublin. My Mom is from here.” Sheamus did not really hear that second part, he was tossing over in his head where you said “It’s nothing serious.” Cesaro interrupted his thoughts and said to Sheamus “That’s where you’re from, Dublin, right?” “Yeah.” Sheamus said. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ After what seemed to Sheamus a torturously long dinner, with inane small talk as you and Cesaro stared goofily into each other’s eyes, he drove You and Cesaro back to the hotel, dropped you guys off, and he went for a drive to clear his head, after sitting all through dinner with a raging hard on for you. Driving was pissing him off more, so he decided to hit the gym to work you off his mind. He couldn’t get that parting hug you gave him off his mind. Your perfume, the way your hair smelled of vanilla, the crush of your perfect breasts against his chest all haunted him. Arm curls. This is what he needed. Pain to put you out of his mind – muscles burning, the pain made him feel alive… -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Back at the hotel, Cesaro had set the scene for you perfectly, starting with Sheamus sharing a room with AJ Styles for the night. Cesaro had dimmed the lights, lit some candles, placed rose petals on the bed. He had also ordered a dozen red roses sent to the room in a Waterford Crystal vase on a serving table with coffee, and tiramisu for two. “What’s all this?” you asked him. “Mi Amor, Kurt is sending me to Japan for a week or two for some promos, and house shows. I would have told you sooner, but Kurt broke the news to me right before the match. We have tonight, and it’s all about you and making your dreams come true…” He said. You smiled, and got on your tiptoes to kiss that lovely man of yours. You grabbed him by the back of the head and kissed him hungrily. Your mouth moved to his ear. “God, I want you to fuck me right now.” He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between your lips. You cried out, and he bored deeply. You clutched his arms.. you could barely stand. He slid his arm around your waist and drew back just enough so that he could look at your flushed cheeks and liquid eyes. He laughed throatily and said “Patience, Mi amour… We have all night for that..” ------------------------------------------------------------------- Sheamus finished his workout, and decided to cool off and swim some laps. He was far from done pushing and punishing himself. His mind flashed back to the green hills of Ireland, that green dress you were wearing, and his imagination wandered to him exploring your body with his hands. Those perfect milky-white breasts.. the dress pooled on the floor at your feet… His thoughts were both rudely and thankfully interrupted by the Southern drawl of AJ Styles breaking through. “Hey man! You’re getting more of the pool out here than actually leaving it in the pool where it belongs!” AJ smirked. “Sorry.” Sheamus grumbled. AJ knelt at the edge of the pool and asked “What’s got you so pre-occupied, man? You’re not sweating about the Tag Team Championship re-match against the Hardy’s are you? Cuz if you are, you and Cesaro have that shit in the bag, man!” “NO. I’ll knock another one of his fekkin teeth right outta his fekkin head!” Sheamus growled. “Easy man! Get dressed, we’re goin drankin. First round’s on me.” AJ said…. --------------------------------------------------------------------- After dessert and coffee, Cesaro cued up some Frank Sinatra on his I-phone, took you by the hand, and you danced in the dim room close together. It felt so good being in his arms. He was such a wonderful dancer. You pressed closer, and were rewarded by the feel of his hardness poking at you. He smiled at your smile, and the light in your eyes at that, and twirled you away from him, and right back to him again in one fluid movement. He leaned in, as if to kiss you again, and whispered hoarsely against your lips instead “No, my love, tonight it’s all about you.” And he reached behind him for one of the roses in the vase. He pulled it out of the vase, and dragged the flower lightly, teasingly down the side of your face, your neck, and over your breasts, admiring the contrast of the blood red rose against your perfect, milky skin, and your breath caught in your throat….

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- At the bar, Sheamus was knocking back the Jameson’s as quickly as the bar keep was setting them up. AJ looked at Sheamus and asked “So, if it’s not the “Hardly Boys” making you edgy, then what? Did you and Cesaro have a fight?” Sheamus smiled and laughed into his glass at AJ’s rude name for the Hardy Boyz. “No man, it’s just woman troubles, and it’s complicated.” “Well shit, man. Women are always complicated!” AJ drawled. He sounded like such a redneck when he’d been drinking. “Yer married, fella, can’t be all that complicated.” Sheamus said. “It becomes complicated when I’m away from my wife for a long time, being on the road, and I see a beautiful woman that I wouldn’t mind bending over and fucking the shit outta. Why do you think so many times I’ve gone into the ring with raging wood?! Have you SEEN some of the hotties that get backstage?! ” AJ laughingly replied. “You haven’t actually screwed around on yer wife have you, man?” Sheamus asked, leaning forward and frowning, the lines in between his brows furrowing deeper. “No way! I love my wife, and she’s the mother of my kids! But it’s sure hard with the temptation all around all day every day. It’s easy to have a weak moment.” “Yes…” Sheamus said absently.. And he rolled his eyes as somebody decided to put “Jesse’s Girl” on the jukebox. It was high time for him to leave. He stood up, clapped AJ on the shoulder, set him up with another drink and said “Glad we could talk, man. I’m outta here, Fella.” Sheamus walked away, leaving AJ with a “What the HELL man, I thought we was drankin?!“ look on his face. He shrugged, and slammed the shot that Sheamus had left for him, and ordered himself another…. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Cesaro set the rose down on the table. You were trembling with anticipation of what you thought was to come. He gently picked you up, and sat you on the edge of the bed. He slipped your black Jimmy Choo stilettos off your perfect feet. He kissed your ear, as he said, "I don't want either of us to ever forget this night." He caressed up your legs and at your thighs, rolled your black stockings down, exposing your long legs. He held your hands over your head, and slipped off your dress, savoring the way your nipples puckered in the cool room, and how rosy they were in contrast to your creamy skin. He gazed upon you as if seeing you for the first time, burning your soft curves into his memory. He sucked on your lower lip, and nibbled. He ran his fingers through your fiery hair, lightly tugging at it. His other hand is on your breast, cupping it, he brushes the nipple with his thumb, rolling and pinching, you’re getting wetter by the minute as he continues this assault on your breasts, first one then the other.

He moved on to a new spot, his thumb rubbed around the sweet spot of your clit, and your eyes rolled back into your head. So very close. The strength of what was building inside you was staggering with each stroke of his thumb. Mind-blowing. If he stopped now, you’d cry and beg, maybe die. He moved on, and dove his tongue deep inside you, setting off another earth-shattering moan that was music to his ears, and if he touched you just right, you made the most glorious sounds — raw, intense, needful, absolutely delicious noises of fucking pleasure as he plundered you with his tongue. You were his for the taking. He sucked on your clit, while kneading your ass. He stopped long enough to thrust one finger inside you, crooking it and hitting you in the sweet spot that turned your moans into one long, high-pitched wail, he added another finger. You shuddered against him, legs quaking, hips thrusting, grinding against his fingers.

He then pulled you closer to the edge of the bed and thrust into you. You gasped and gripped the sheets, balling them up in your hands, as your body stretched to accommodate him. The feel of him was growing more familiar. He leaned over you, forcing you back almost to your elbows and thrust, sinking fully into you, filling you completely. As his thrusts gained a steady tempo, you brought your hands up to caress his pecs, his nipples, down his abs, clamping your legs tight around his waist, driving him further into you until your sweat-slick bodies were sliding together. You kept breathing life into his soul, almost more than he could bear. When he finally slowed to look at you, he saw your hair was a wild tumble, and you face was all glowing and blissed-out, and he's smirking and whispering in your ear "I never knew you were such a dirty girl, Y/N." You spooned, with him behind you, and soon you both fell asleep. Blissed-out and comfortable.

The next morning, the alarm went off. You stirred, stretched, leaned over and nuzzled, nibbled, licked, and kissed Cesaro’s neck as he lay beside you. He hugged you close a moment, grinned, got out of bed, stood up, and pulling you with him, He hooked his finger beneath your chin and lifted, forcing you to look at him. “I have to go now, Mi Amour. I will call you every day I’m gone, I promise. We will get together the second I return You will never be far from my thoughts.” You pouted a bit. And then he got dressed, and as he was dressing, told you Sheamus was on his way to take you guys to the airport. You were left to put on the dress you wore the night before and freshen up a little.

All too soon, there was a knock on the door, and Cesaro opened the door, and greeted Sheamus. He ducked his head slightly and waved at you, and then discreetly turned away and pretended to be looking intently at his phone. He had offered to drive you and Cesaro to the airport, and then return you to your house. As you were in the bathroom fixing your makeup, Cesaro took Sheamus aside and said quietly so you wouldn’t hear “I’d feel a lot better if I knew she was well looked after. Do you mind?” “Naw, I’ll check up on her and she’ll be ok” Sheamus promised. And then he took you guys to the airport. He was giving you shit the whole time about being touchy-feely kissy and grabby. ------------------------------ It had only been three days since Cesaro had been gone. You hadn’t really paid Sheamus much mind, you missed Cesaro too goddamn much. You figured Sheamus went back home to Florida to relax. All that aside, you had a gig tonight! You had decided on a yellow strappy low cut vintage style dress – classic pin up style, and black rhinestone Yellowbox platform flip flops. You had to admit, you looked damn cute as you surveyed your reflection in your full-length mirror. You were a little nervous because this was your first gig in a while, and you had been writing lots of fluffy love songs with Cesaro in mind. That man had awakened something in you. You had been writing frantically like a woman possessed, and almost had enough material for a full-length cd! Lord how he consumed your thoughts. He’s only been gone about three days and you missed him terribly. You were smitten. He was good, and kept his word, and had been sending you sweet texts and voicemails and silly selfies when his schedule allowed. You always woke up knowing you were on his mind… -------------------------------------------------------------- Sheamus was still in town, unbeknownst to you. He was feeling restless as fuck, and didn’t know why, other than he couldn’t get you off his mind – Especially after Cesaro innocently asked him to look after you, since after all you are his best friend and brother. He cursed himself for agreeing – but he couldn’t deny Cesaro anything. The hotel TV was blaring “Mallrats” A Kevin Smith movie, and his thoughts were interrupted by Jay calling Silent Bob his “hetero lifemate.” Sheamus ducked his head and laughed. Yep. That fit him and Cesaro perfectly, he had to admit.

Sheamus decided he needed a Guinness, so he turned off the TV and hopped into the shower, dressed meticulously in well-worn faded jeans, a black button down shirt, and his gray tweed hat. He headed out the door. You had just taken the stage, and started your first set when Sheamus made his way from the bar to a middle table, whiskey in hand. The bar did not have Guinness, so whiskey had to do. After settling in, he cursed himself silently when he looked up and realized the pretty girl with the voice of an angel singing was you! “Of all the fuckin bars in this shit town, and I choose this one. Great! Just fuckin great!” He thought to himself. You were blinded by the bright stage lights and smoke, and couldn’t see who had just walked in and sat down, other than they were really tall.

Sheamus shifted in his seat as he looked at you adoringly, hanging on your every word as you belted out a Linda Ronstadt cover “I’ve got a crush on you.”

At the back of the bar at a corner table were a group of oilfield men that were on the island blowing their wad of pay on drinks. They were shitfaced and hooting and laughing loudly, swearing, and grabbing at every pretty serving girl that walked by, and cat-calling. Sheamus paid them no mind, until they began to heckling you. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he was hyper aware of everything around him. They were yelling “FEEEBIRD!!” and “Play some Skynyrd!” You were used to this shit, playing in dive bars across the country. It was still no less soul crushing when it happened. You decided to do a poppy upbeat cover to appease the crowd.

It was time for you to break, so the jukebox came on, and you headed for the bar. You smiled at Scotty the bartender and asked for a whiskey. You heard a sexy Irish brogue behind you say “I neva pegged ya for a whiskey girl, Lass.” And then to the bar keep “Put her drink on my tab, Fella.” You smiled at the attention from Sheamus and tell him you’re glad to see him, and ask if he is enjoying the show. He is surprised that you are so talented.

On your break, you had steadily drank, danced, laughed, and tried to have fun despite the oilfield idiot having been annoying you constantly. Sheamus was also a good dancer. You were surprised a man so big could be graceful on his feet like that. He was greatly impressed you matched him drink for drink and showed no signs of being shitfaced. Sheamus was really a lot of fun to be around!

One of the oilfield men kept staring at you, the same one that was heckling you earlier. He was sitting at the bar with the two of you. Sheamus glared back and yelled at him “Hey Fella, the fook you lookin at?”

For a time, things normalized, and before you or Sheamus knew it, the man had quickly cut back through the room from the bar, cutting across the dance floor. He had timed it perfectly to intercept you. You had excused yourself from Sheamus' company, and were en route to the ladies’ room. Before you got there, however, the man grabbed your arm hard, and twisted you to him. You were being pressed up against the wall, he was crushing you, and your skirt was being hitched up by his rough stubby fingers. You were crying, screaming at this man to let you go, get off of you. He is cursing you, calling you a dirty whore, and a filthy cunt that needs to be punished. His breath stank.

Sheamus heard you yelling. His head snapped up, assessed the situation, and he charged the guy like a bull. He shoved you to safety behind him. He knocked him into the Men's room door. From his prone position, he endured the beating and brogue kicking Sheamus gave him. He was too inebriated to fight back, really. As quickly as it began, it ended with the bouncer picking up the guy, and ousting him and his friends and telling them to get the fuck out and never come back to his bar. Scotty put out his hand to shake Sheamus’ hand and thank him. He set you guys up with a shot apiece of Jameson’s before last call.

Sheamus ignored the drink in front of him for the moment. He tenderly wiped your tears from your face and spoke softly to you. “Hey Lass, it’s alright. No one’s gonna hurt you. Not on MY watch.” He looked you over to make sure you were ok. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Sheamus asked?? “No.” you whispered. He enfolded you in his arms and held you tightly. You tried not to cry. “Thank you.” You sniffled against his shoulder. He smiled tenderly at you and said there was no need to thank him, he was glad to be your protector for always. You both finished your shots, and you grabbed your guitar. Sheamus held his hand out for you, and you took it. The two of you walked outside together. He was calming. Steadying. He had planned to drive you home, since you walked to the gig. Home was not too far away, but after the attack, he was on guard. Turns out, it wasn't over. The man was waiting outside. You screamed. He put up his fists. He was southpaw. Right hand forward, and he steps into a REALLY wide wobbly karate or kung fu stance, Sheamus had never seen anything like it. Sheamus right away launched a right-foot roundhouse kick, full blast in his face, which is even worse for the guy because Sheamus is wearing steel toes. SMASH! It hits him and he goes down on his knees, and his lip is split in half, you can see the lip hanging. Blood everywhere. "Ya dirty shitehawk, if you so much as look at this woman again, I will fucking end you." The other oilfield men had by this time scattered like roaches into the night.

Sheamus decided he couldn’t chance you being alone, not with those assholes on the loose. He took you to his hotel room. Against his better judgement. He was almost high from the vanilla perfume you wore. He was duty-bound to protect you. His hardness had other ideas. He shifted in his seat to hide it.

“I never got to properly thank you for saving me.” You told him, as you were in the safety of his hotel room. You got on tiptoe. And kissed him. Your hand rubbing the scruffy of his beard, and going behind his neck, pulling him to you. All the air sucked out of the room for him… He returned the kiss, warm and probing. Gentle… with a hint of rough to it… He sucked your tongue, nibbled your lip, sucked your lip. His thumb traced your lips. Your tongue snaked out and sucked his thumb seductively. His gaze narrowed and devoured your body, touching you with dark intent. He was hungry for you. You shivered and moved toward him, except he kept you right where you were. At this moment in time, you both loved and hated his strength, how he was controlling you, and could throw you around at will. Right now it was fucking hot as Hell, and you were horny.

He pushed you down on the bed and held you there with one hand on your stomach and stripped your dress off of you, leaving you in just your lacy panties. This uninhibited style of sex was new to you, and you were quickly growing addicted. You’d never known the rough abandon or carnal intent that Sheamus showed you. Cesaro was more gentlemanly. With Sheamus, there was a borderline danger. Your stomach fluttered with butterflies, and knotted, as he grasped your lace panties and pulled them. They ripped at the seam on one side with his super strength. Sheamus paused, staring at the bit of torn material and he shrugged. A slow grin spread across his face and he ripped the other side with a simple flex of his powerful arms. He gazed at you as he slowly slipped his shirt from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He ran his hands down the length of your arms, his fingers entwining with yours. Then he crossed your hands behind you as he kissed you long and deep, pressed so tightly against you, you almost couldn’t breathe - In a really good way.

As soon as he released your hands, they found themselves tangled in his hair. He feathered kisses and little nibbles down your neck to your collarbone, and your breath hitched and caught in your throat. Sheamus smiled against your ivory skin, knowing instinctively this was one of your sweet spots. He felt his way as his hands unclasped your black lace bra, adding it to the pile at your feet. He bent his head and left a trail of kisses across the tops of your breasts, his hands traveling up to cup them gently. His thumbs grazed and pinched your nipples, and you almost came out of your skin.

“That feels fucking amazing.” You sighed, watching him attend to you. The words “Oh my God!” left your mouth as you dropped your head back to enjoy. His tongue flickered across your right nipple and his mouth zeroed in, taking the nub in between his lips. His teeth softly encircled you, biting gently and sucking. You cried out underneath him, letting him know that this was exactly what you needed. His teeth nibbled more insistently, and his left hand began to move toward your legs. You ran your hands up and down his back, scratching, beginning to feel the slow build that was going to quite possibly be your undoing. Cesaro and Sheamus were alike in that department. When you took your first look at him shirtless, it was a good thing he was holding on to you so tightly, as you felt your knees shake. He was so motherfucking beautiful. You pushed him away just far enough to take him in, your gaze traveling up and down. He was so strong and handsome, chiseled like marble. He noticed you staring, and he grinned at you. “What are you staring at?” “You. You’re beautiful.” You ran your fingertips lightly across his chest, lower onto his smooth stomach, and he groaned. “Not as beautiful as you, Lass.”

You expertly snapped open his button and unzipped him before he knew what you were doing. As his eyes widened, you slipped one hand inside, found what you were looking for, and gave him a gentle but insistent squeeze. He was fucking huge! “Fuck, Y/N . . . ,” he moaned, buying you a few more seconds, which was all you needed. You slipped his jeans down his legs. He gave in, kicking off his shoes and allowing you to continue to slide them off. You knelt in front of him before he could stop you, and as you finished removing them, you chanced a quick look up. He was staring down at you with such a look of lust and want, it darkened his eyes, and almost made you rock back on your heels. You took him in your mouth.

He regained his control before he lost it with your mouth on him, and scooped you up and brought you to the bed. He leaned over you, his hardness teasing your wetness, entering you just enough to tease your clit. He slid home into you then. You felt so good and tight. So wet, “Oh, God, Y/N . . . Jesus,” he growled, his hands tightening in your hair, reflexively bringing him deeper into you. Balls deep. Hearing that gorgeous voice, that sexy as fuck Irish brogue — oh my God. You let him fill you, feeling the hardness of him, stretching you, and you inwardly smiled.

This was exactly where you wanted him. Needed him. He was perfect and huge and smooth and rock hard. Everything about the man was huge. When his tongue touched your body, you arched off the bed so violently that he had to hold you down. “No, love, you aren’t going anywhere,” he said, admonishing you, and the feel of his hot breath against your skin almost made you come instantly. His hands gripped your hips, angling you so that you were completely vulnerable to whatever he wished to do to you. You shivered in anticipation.

Oh, sweet lord. He was good. He kept thrusting into you and you felt as if you’d break. He groaned, pulled out, jerked it twice, and shot his wad all over your stomach, and collapsed on you, rolling you on top of him, the both of you breathing hard. Blissed-out. You nestled into his shoulder, and he kissed your forehead, smoothed your hair with his hand, and then slipped his arms around you, protecting you. That was where you slept off the whisky hangover you knew you were going to have the next morning. In his arms.

My Tag List Beauties: @helluvawriter @thatwrestlingfan91 @deidrelovessheamus @laochbaineann @dorkyvillain @faeynia @thessaswea @heelturn-timesten @ashley--eleanora @wwesmutdonedirtcheap

#Sheasaro #Sheamus Fluff #sheamus smut #Cesaro Smut #Cesaro Fluff

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nobodys-pearls · 8 years ago

Text

Hit on Me

A Kimax AU where Max and Kim are two pro-fighting sportscasters who are in love but haven’t realized it yet. Also cue aro/ace Alix -who’s having a lot more fun with all this than she should.

Read on [AO3]

“Okay Max, you can do it. This will be easy. Just take a deep breath and go through what you want to say, just how you practiced.” Max mumbled to himself, adjusting his glasses as he walked down the long office hallway. He reached the elevators and quickly pushed the button, tapping his foot as he waited for the light above his floor number to flash. It was oddly quiet, and all he could hear was the whirring of the pulley system, bringing the elevator up to his level.

“Why am I so nervous?” Max said to himself, looking at his reflection in the stainless steel doors. He was wearing his best suit, a sleek dark gray one that he picked out only a few weeks ago. He was even wearing his lucky green bow tie – he didn’t believe in luck in the slightest, but he thought that there was a high possibility that it would psychologically affect him, hopefully giving him more confidence. In fact, in one of the dozens of websites he was scrolling through last night, it said that wearing your favorite color could spike the area in your brain that activated…he was getting off topic.

He always did this. The more nervous he was, the more he immersed himself in numbers and statistics until it began to lose focus and forget where he was. In short, it wasn’t helping. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and adjusted his glasses once more, yet another one of his nervous habits. “You’re just talking to the woman.” He said firmly, looking at the elevator doors. “There’s a position open as the new sportscaster for the pro-fighting league, and although you manage the IT department, you are capable of doing the job. No,” Max corrected, looking back at his reflection and standing up straighter, “You deserve this job.”

Then he heard the familiar ding and watched as the elevator doors opened. He straightened his bow tie and stepped into the lift, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that it was empty. People were variables that he just could not deal with right now.

“Hey can you hold it!” A voice called from the hallway, startling Max. He watched dumbly as the doors closed in front of him, but then a hand shot out to hold them open just in time. Max looked down at his shoes in embarrassment as the man entered the elevator. He had gotten lost in his owns thoughts again. Now he looked like a jerk.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“No worries,” The voice said as the doors closed behind him. Max looked up and was met with a pair of gray eyes. “I got here just in time. I’m pretty fast.” The stranger said with a wink. Max felt something constrict inside his chest. He assumed they were his nerves, reminding him of what he had set out to do.

“It’s really no problem,” The unnamed man said. He looked like he was about Max’s age – early 20s. Max saw the concern in his eyes and realized how tense he must look.

“Sorry!” Max blurted out, fixing his glasses. “I’m just a little stressed today, that’s all.” He admitted, fighting the temptation to adjust this glasses again. He didn’t have OCD, he had been tested at a young age for that, but ever since he was little he always had certain habits that he would always go to in extremely emotionally taxing situations. Apparently .8% of French citizens suffered from some sort of…

“Why are you stressed?”

Max flicked his eyes back to the man looking at him, losing his train of thought. He saw the warmth and sincerity in the stranger’s gaze, and something about it made him a little more relaxed. “I’m asking one of the higher ups for a job change.”

“Well that shouldn’t be too bad.” The man said with a grin, leading against the elevator railing.

“It’s a big change.” Max said with a nervous laugh. Then the elevator doors opened and a woman shuffled in, her nose in her newspaper. She quietly took up the back left corner, not saying a word. Max tried not to be fazed, but he couldn’t help but think, another variable.

“What is this job change, if you don’t mind me asking?” The mysterious man with the gray eyes said, cocking his head to the side. He looked genuinely interested in what Max had to say.

“There’s a position open as a pro-fighting sportscaster.”

The man let out a short laugh.

“What?” Max questioned. He watched as the man combed a hand through his black hair. He noticed that a good portion of it was died a nice golden color. He’d never seen hair that looked quite like that, even though about 12% of people dye their hair before the age of 25, 5% of those people being…

“I didn’t peg you as a person who was interested in sports.” The man answered simply.

Max’s whole demeanor changed. He crossed his arms and stood up a bit straighter, although he was still about a foot shorter than the man in front of him. “I’ll have you know that I grew up watching every kind of sport imaginable. I memorized all the rules, all the statistics, the player’s names, the awards won, the records broken –” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I may not look like I’m interested in sports, but trust me when I tell you I know my stuff.” He looked up at the man with a determined gaze, daring him to misjudge him once more.

Max faltered when he saw the unreadable expression on the man’s face. Something in the guy’s eyes flashed and he shifted off of the railing to stand to his full height.

“That almost sounded like a challenge.” The man said. He looked like he was holding back a grin.

“Maybe it is.” Max shot back, wondering if he was about to get beat up in an elevator. This man was taller and obviously stronger than him, but he was scrappy, he could take him on, right? He glanced at the woman, who was still immersed in her paper. He didn’t think that she would come to his aid if a fight broke out. His throat became very dry all of a sudden.

The man held out his hand, and Max instinctively flinched at the movement. Then he realized that the guy wanted to shake his hand and hastily reached it out, cheeks blazing in embarrassment.

“I’m Le Chien Kim, but you can call me Kim.” The man declared, grasping Max’s hand firmly in his own. Then he leaned over to Max’s eye level. “And I should have you know that I love a challenge.” He said with a 1000 watt smile. Max’s heart skipped a beat, probably due to the fact that his life had flashed before his eyes in the moment that this guy, Kim, had offered his hand. He hadn’t anticipated this, and he was pretty good with probability.

He wasn’t sure what to make of this guy. He was unpredictable, more so than most people. And although, logically, this should have made him more uncomfortable than he usually is around people, it gave him an odd feeling of excitement.

“Who won the French PFL tournament three years ago?”

Max was initially startled by the abrupt question, but then he adjusted his glasses and said easily, “Jean Moreau for the men’s league, Renée Leroy for the women’s.”

“And what was Leroy’s record by the time she won her second championship?” Kim asked, leaning over even further, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“7 loses, 162 wins, a new record for the women’s league, and the men’s for that matter.” Max said without a second thought.

Kim straightened back up, looking impressed. “And what do you think that this year will hold for the PFL?”

Max furrowed his brow in thought. “Well, all of the most well known fighters have retired in the past two years, so there is a void in experience.” Then Max looked back at Kim. “I believe that there is going to be a new talent to come out of the woodwork, someone that nobody expected. Somebody that will make pro-fighting fresh and better than ever.” He declared with confidence.

Kim smiled wide. Then he put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “I think I have some new talent in front of me right now.” Max stared back at him with wide eyes, and then he smiled shyly as well.

“What do you think, Madam Roux?” Kim asked, turning his attention to the woman in the corner.

‘Wait, why does that name sound familiar…’ Max thought to himself.

Suddenly the woman put down her newspaper, revealing a wide grin that rivaled Kim’s. “I think we found your new partner.”

Max laughed nervously, inching towards the elevator doors. He knew he was heading for one of the higher floors, but this had taken a while, and these overly energetic people were starting to freak him out. Then it clicked.

“Madam Roux!” Max exclaimed. This was the woman he was going to talk to! He wasn’t sure what she looked like, so he didn’t recognize her at first, but she fit the description he read online perfectly, along with the grainy picture on the company’s website.

“The legend herself.” Kim said with a wink.

“Wait, but, I was going to, I mean, I wanted to –” Max began, stumbling over his words. This was not how he planned it at all. Would it even make sense to go through his script now?

“You’ve got the job.” Madam Roux said, scribbling something down on her newspaper. Then she tore a piece off and handed it to Max. “Here’s my number. We expect you to be at Charles’ Arena at 7pm tomorrow. Don’t be late.” With that the elevator doors opened and she walked into the hallway, disappearing in a matter of seconds.

“What just happened?” Max asked himself, clutching his head in one hand and looking down at the piece of newspaper.

“You just became my new partner.” Kim answered, that grin still on his face. “Um, this is your floor, right?” He asked.

“Huh? Oh! Yes, this is where I was heading…” Max mumbled, stepping out of the elevator. “What did you two mean about a partner?”

Kim rested his arm on the front of the elevator, leaning casually towards Max. “I was working for Monsieur Faure before he retired. I got promoted to head sportscaster starting this upcoming season, but I requested a partner. Guess we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.” He answered with a wink. Max gulped. Then he hastily adjusted his glasses and gripped the piece of newspaper more tightly in his hand.

“Thank you.” Max said, looking intensely at his new co-worker.

Kim dropped his arm from its place on the elevator, looking caught off guard for a moment. Then he broke into one of his blinding smiles. “Don’t thank me, you showed off all your skills. I’m just the one who pushed you a little.” Then he chucked to himself. “I have a feeling this is how this partnership is going to go. I’m looking forward to it.”

Max couldn’t help but smile a little as well. He could feel a sort of electricity in the air, which was odd, since there didn’t seem to be any exposed circuits and the atmosphere was supposed to be uncharacteristically dry today, at least according to his weather app…well, whatever this strange feeling was, he kind of liked it. It was different. Uncharted territory. “I’m looking forward to it too.”

Kim nodded his head and pressed one of the elevator buttons. Soon the doors began to close. “Wait,” He said a moment later, holding open the elevator. “I don’t know your name.”

Max pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and stood up straight. “Max Kanté.” He stated.

“Max Kanté.” Kim said to himself, a strange smile on his face. Then he looked back up at the young man before him. “Until next time, Max.” He let the doors close in front of him and soon Max was left alone in the hallway. He watched as the lights above the elevator flashed, and the pulley system whirred once more. Then he took a deep breath.

“Well that was…unexpected.” Max mused, still frozen in place. Who knew something so spontaneous, could turn out so perfectly? For once in his life, he didn’t have a fact or statistic to explain how he was feeling, what had just happened. He found himself struggling to find a word to describe just how gray Kim’s eyes were. Then he shook his head and headed down the hallway, willing his legs to move in a steady rhythm.

He looked down at that piece of newspaper for what might have been the hundredth time. Charles’ Arena. 7 pm tomorrow. “I did it.” Max said to himself, unable to hold back his grin. “I really did it!” He repeated, pumping his fist in the air as he tried and failed to reign in his excitement. He had entered the main section of the office at that point and noticed one of the secretaries giving him an odd look. He quickly sobered his expression and gave her a short greeting.

‘Wait.’ Max thought, suddenly realizing something. ‘I came here during my lunch break to talk to Madam Roux, but now that I’ve already gotten the job…’ He rubbed his neck sheepishly. He didn’t need to get off the elevator. Actually, there was no point for him to be on this floor at all. He turned around and walked back the way he came, trying to ignore the puzzled look on the secretary’s face as he left the main room that he had just entered.

‘Well what am I going to do now?’ Max wondered, back in the hallway with the elevators. He had twenty minutes until his break was over. Then he got an idea and pulled out his cell phone.

He scrolled down his contacts until he reached the name he was looking for, tapping his fingers against his thigh as he listened to his phone ring.

“Hiya poindexter.” The voice said on the other end of the line. Max rolled his eyes and smiled.

“I thought we went over this?” Max said, trying and failing to sound disapproving.

“Oh yeah we definitely did, I just chose not to listen.” The voice admitted.

Max chucked. “Alixxxxx.”

“Hey take me as I am or not at all.”

“Then I get to call you Lazytown.” Max declared, biting back his grin.

“Okay, I may have short pink hair, and I may be a little too obsessed with physical activity, but if you call me Lazytown I will not hesitate to kick your ass.”

Max shuddered at the threat. Alix may be shorter than him, but she trained the best pro-fighters in the French league. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Noted.” He said, his throat suddenly dry. Then he remembered why he called her in the first place. “So, do you have a minute to talk?”

“Yeah, my new protégé is taking a water break. You’ve gotta check this girl out sometime, Max, she’s going places.”

“Actually I think I’ll be seeing a lot of her in the future…” Max said vaguely, but Alix immediately understood.

“You got the job!” Alix exclaimed, excitement obvious in her voice. “How was it? What did you say? Don’t tell me you used all of those statistics you prepared because we talked about –”

Max laughed. “The plan was trashed before I really started it.” He admitted.

“Really? That’s not like you.” Alix said, puzzled.

“Oh I didn’t trash the plan.” Max said, leaning against the wall. “Le Chien Kim did.”

“Who?”

“Apparently he’s my new partner. And apparently he likes a challenge.”

“Oh I’m gonna have fun with this guy.” Alix said, and Max could picture the evil grin on her face.

He smiled to himself as he continued to talk to his best friend on the phone. He had a good feeling about all this – a strange, indescribable feeling – but a good feeling nevertheless.

For the rest of the day he couldn’t seem to get those gray eyes out of his head. Whenever he tried to recall one of his many facts and figures, all he could think of were those eyes. He couldn’t seem to understand why.

#kimax #max kante #le chien kim #alix kubdel #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug au #ladybug #chat noir #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #hit on me

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