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naturesapphic · 2 months ago

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Yk « l’amour de ma vie » by billie can u write a fanfic abt French yn flirting with Billie in French and that’s why the tittle of her song is l’amour de ma vie (bc yn always call billie that and her heart melts every time cuz she finds that really cute) and one of un interviewing billie in French (like the Lena situation interview but in French)

French Interview

Billie eilish x French!fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, cussing

Word count: 2,181 😭

A/n: I’m sorry if the translation got some of the words wrong I apologize I tried-

“Hey guys! Today vogue invited me over to interview a very special someone. Billie eilish aka my girlfriend!” I exclaimed as I did jazz hands over to my girlfriend Billie, who sat beside me. She looked over at me and giggled at my goofy jazz hands and face I was doing. “Hiiii everybody. I’m so glad to be back here.” Billie said softly as she waves to everyone and to the cameras.

You smiled big and explained to everyone that you will now be talking in French for most of the interview. “Alors Billie Eilish se blesse parfois ? Que diable?” (So Billie eilish does get hurt sometimes. What the hell?). Billie giggles and gives you a smile as she answers. “Right? It’s interesting to be a person who isn’t an outwardly sensitive complainer. A lot of moments on this album are about situations where I was like, ““I’d rather be tortured inside but have somebody think that I’m cool, than have somebody think that I’m hysterical and actually express my feelings.”” So many songs on this album reflect that realization of, like, “Maybe I’m obsessed with the idea of nonchalance.”” She says and you nod.

“oh ouais, c'est toi, c'est sûr bébé.” (Oh yeah, that’s you for sure baby.). You reply and Billie keeps going on with her answer. “I would rather suffer in silence than tell you something’s bothering me and have you think I’m sensitive.” She says and you roll your eyes playfully. “tu me rappelles un de mes ex-partenaire.” You said while eyeing her down. As soon as the translator translate what you said to her, she gives you a gentle shove that makes you laugh. “Quand nous nous sommes rencontrés pour la première fois, tu avais l'air d'avoir tout compris et tu étais plutôt fermé.” (when we first met, you seemed like you had it all together and kinda closed off).

Billie laughs and grabs one of your hands in hers as she answers. “I come off as a person that doesn’t care. I care about people and I have love and passion, but in relationships, I found myself never ever expressing any of my needs. It was interesting to notice I was doing that, and that’s what these lyrics are about. It’s almost like I resent myself for not advocating for myself, because maybe if I had, things would’ve changed. But I’ve always had an issue with weakness.” She said opening up more and more. “Well I’m glad you are getting better with expressing your needs towards me because you mean a lot to me bils.” You say as you look deep into her eyes. She smiles and waits for your next question.

“En pensant à “Skinny” qui entre dans “Lunch”, cela résume parfaitement l’ambiance du titre, car c’est un peu comme les refroidir puis les réchauffer.” (Thinking about “Skinny” going into “Lunch,” that sums up the vibe of the title perfectly, because it’s kind of like, cool them down and then heat them up.) “That was very purposeful. It’s hard and soft and hard and soft. There’s motifs and melodies that repeat and lyrics that call back to other songs. The songs morph into each other. It was purposeful to have “Skinny” do what it does, and then at the end you hear the drums for “Lunch.” And then “Lunch” comes in and slaps you in the face.” Billie replies and you nod along to her words.

“Vous vous demandez ce que les gens vont dire de la chanson “Lunch”?” (Are you wondering what people are going to say about the song “Lunch”?). “I’m pretty aware of what people will say. It’s so weird to grow up and change in front of the world. The craziest part is discovering things about myself and then suddenly, everyone else knows, and I don’t even have a second to think about how it makes me feel.” She confessed and you felt your heart break for her. “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like.” You say as you start rubbing her knuckles. “It was very frustrating but I wouldn’t have done it without you y/n so thank you love.” Billie said giving you a small but loving smile.

“Je me demandais, quand une de vos relations amoureuses se termine, pensez-vous la laisser avec mille questions ? Ou vous laissent-ils avec mille questions ? Ou est-ce partagé 50-50 ? Est-il plus dangereux de tomber amoureux de vous ? Ou est-il plus dangereux pour vous de tomber amoureux?” (I was wondering, when one of your romantic relationships ends, do you think you leave them with a thousand questions? Or do they leave you with a thousand questions? Or is it split 50-50? Is it more dangerous to fall in love with you? Or is it more dangerous for you to fall in love?) “I don’t even know. I think 50-50 is probably accurate. I literally hate who I am so much when I’m in love.” Billie replied and you let out a loud laugh that made her giggle at you.

“That’s one of the most masculine things you’ve said. Jeez Billie.” You giggle out and she smiles. “But don’t worry baby I love how I am when I’m in love with you.” She confessed and you felt your whole face heat up. “je t'aime, l'amour de ma vie.” (I love you, the love of my life). Billies face heat up and she leans over to give you a little kiss on your cheek. “I love you more angel.” She said. She didn’t even need the translator to tell her what you said because you always say I love you and that pet name to her in French. That’s why she named the song after that petname because she loves when you call her that a lot and it means a lot to her. Billie goes back on track and continues to answer your last question.

“I have a power issue and a control issue, and I also don’t like being vulnerable in a romantic way. It makes me feel uncomfortable, and I don’t know how many times I’ve really been in love. I think there’s different versions of love, and I think that you can be in love and it might not be deep. I’m not going to get too in detail, because I’m going to be rude, but I’ve never been dumped, and also, I’ve never been broken up with. I’ve only done the breaking up.” She confessed and you nod. “Yeah I’ve only done that a few times but I’ve mostly gotten broken up with.” You say and Billie nods. I think when people hear that, they’re like, “Oh, all you do is break hearts.” Sure, but that doesn’t mean that people are totally innocent. It means that I was like, “Oh, let me get the fuck out of here.” Or it means things just weren’t right.” Billie continued on.

“Now some of y’all about to be real mad at me, but I do believe that breaking up with someone versus being broken up with, obviously being broken up with hurts like hell, especially when you don’t see it coming and you wanted a future and it’s taken out of your hands. But honestly, the pain of knowing that you have to end something with somebody that you genuinely love is so horrible.” She confessed and you cocked your head to the side. “Really? I’m not sure if I completely agree but I will agree with how it does stay with you longer if you break up with somebody.” You say and Billie adds on. “I think so, too. And you don’t get to even have the, like, “I got dumped, so fuck you guys. I get to go crazy and have a reaction and be mad at you. And I get to make you into an enemy, because you broke up with me.” You can’t do that. You can’t become a victim.” She points out and you give a surprised look on your face.

“That’s actually very true. You don’t get to feel mad and shit. Wow I never thought of it like that.” You explained and Billie smiles. “Pour changer un peu de sujet, ce que vous dites me fait revenir sur vos premières musiques. Votre approche d’écriture n’est pas comme si elle se prêtait à l’hésitation. Il ne s’agit même pas de peindre quelque chose de sombre sur le plan sonore, mais c’est un peu bleu. En fait, tu utilises beaucoup le mot « bleu » dans cet album”. (To change the topic a bit, what you are saying is giving me flashbacks to your early music. Your writing approach is, it’s not like it lends itself to hesitancy. It’s not even painting something dark sonically, but it’s a little bit blue. You actually use the word “blue” a lot in this album).

“I love that you just pointed that out, and it’s making me think about how I don’t love to point fingers. Sometimes you want to, because you’re mad and you want people to feel for you and you want to feel seen. But I’m not going, “You did this to me.” It’s more, like, “We’re all allowed to feel however we feel based on whatever happened.” Also, it’s not about pointing my finger and blaming people: “And everybody, attack this person, because they hurt me.” It’s like, “I hurt me. And I have hurt me multiple times, and I allow other people to get to that point.” And that’s where I’m trying to draw the boundaries and protect my shadow.” Billie added on and you watched her in awe as she explains how she feels. “Comme il se doit. Et c’est parce que vous n’avez pas pointé du doigt que les gens vont se poser mille questions. Pour revenir au fait d'être toujours amoureux, les seules choses qui sont réelles sont les sentiments.” (As you should. And it’s because you didn’t point fingers that people will have a thousand questions. To go back to ever being in love, the only things that are real are feelings).

“I just had an experience the other day. I had some people over, and there was something happening that involved a lot of sensation and feeling and being in your body. And the person who is guiding me through this thing, I won’t even get into it, because it’s irrelevant to what I’m saying, there was this moment where they were talking about communication and saying, “Just remember to be aware of how you feel.” And I remember saying, “Oh, well, this is making me think of this, and I am feeling this.” I kept describing things. And he said to me, “I appreciate your psychoanalysis of what you’re feeling, but I don’t need you to analyze it. I just need you to feel it.” And that got to me. It made me think. It made me feel.” She explained and you felt your eyes tear up at her words. “I love that. It’s really the scariest thing of all. But for overthinkers, it can be a good practice to just feel and then move by those emotions. So yeah, we don’t need to end with a question, because I think the gift of being with you, whether you’re present or nonchalant or considering whether you’re being nonchalant in this moment, is that your instant impact on a room, even if you don’t say anything, makes people feel a lot. Even my band told me that. When you walked out, they were like, “Damn, she’s good. She makes you feel a lot.” And I was like, “Try sitting next to her when she’s looking into your eyes. It’s crazy.”” You say and Billie looks deep in your eyes as you talk.

“Eh bien, je n’ai plus de questions aujourd’hui mais l’amour de ma vie, j’adore ton album et toutes les chansons qu’il contient. Je suis incroyablement fier de toi et merci de m'avoir permis de t'aimer. Au revoir tout le monde ! Le flux m'a frappé fort et doucement!” (Well I don’t have any more questions today but the love of my life, I absolutely love your album and all of the songs on it. I’m so incredibly proud of you and thank you for letting me love you. Goodbye everyone! Stream hit me hard and soft). You waved bye to everyone and Billie was blowing kisses to the camera and the interview was done. Billie and you went back to y’all’s house and spent the rest of the day there in each others arms.

A/n: holy shit that was a lot. Over two thousand words omg. PLEASE REBLOG, COMMENT, LIKE, SHARE, ANYTHING PLEASE LMAO thank you anon for the request, I hope you love it and I hope the rest of y’all do too. Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y’all :)

#billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x you #billie eilish imagine #billie #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #billie o’connell #french #eilish #billieeilish

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monzabee · 2 years ago

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baby honey – al12

masterlist

Summary: The one where Arthur swears he’s not thinking about you, his best friend, all the time – just today, yesterday, and tomorrow night.

Pairing: arthur leclerc x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: angst, unreciprocated feelings (that turn into reciprocated feelings), hurt, comfort, alcohol consumption, being drunk, idiots to lovers, denial is a river in egypt, charles and his big brain, miscommunication, mentions of drunk driving (don’t drink and drive!), jealousy jealousy, cying, google translate French!

Request: “after reading ur newest cl16 fic i want one where reader always liked charles but he gets a gf and she ends up with arthur (who’s her bff?? bffs to lovers 🤔) just a lot of hurt comfort” + “Hi! Can I please request ballerina!reader with either Charles or Arthur, you can choose to write it or do it as a smau, thank you!” + “can you please write something with Arthur + size/height difference?”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! it is time for the debut of arthur my beloved on this blog. i LOVED all of the requests for this one! i was originally going to name this fic after another taylor song (wink, wink), but then i was listening to baby honey by harry styles and something just clicked, so i hope you guys also agree with me. if anyone is wondering, this is an unreleased song from his first self-titled album. i know the request was a bit different, with reader having feelings for charles first, but i think changing it a little bit and having miscommunication made it a bit deeper. so thank you, anons, for these requests, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Arthur has a problem when it comes to you – and that is not being able to say the word ‘no’. This has put him in some very interesting positions in the past, but whatever happens, it just seems that Arthur is not able to mutter out the word ‘no’ when you ask him of something. It’s always been that way, he supposes. He was never able to deny you when you looked at him with the look in your eyes, and he still can’t to this day. When you call him to ask if he wants to come to a party with you? He’s out the door before you tell him the location. When you suddenly have the urge to watch Barbie movies from your childhood? He brings the popcorn and even sings along to some of the songs he knows the words to. You were there for every one of his races before he got the opportunity to travel around the world to drive on the same tracks his brother and even the legends in the sports did. He came to every one of your ballet recitals until you graduated, and he was kind enough to buy you a bouquet of your favourite flowers each time. Although this might be the situation, the relationship you and Arthur have are based on equal grounds – meaning that you love and adore him just as he does you. It’s one of relationships you value the most in your life, the two of you having each other’s back since a very young age, and it is a relationship that you don’t ever want to lose. So, when the time came for both of you to move out of your parents’ houses, it came as no surprise for anyone that you two decided to move in together. Arthur wanted to spend his free time, when he wasn’t racing, with you as much as possible, and you were just happy to be with your best friend.

Though he’s always been protective over you and it is nothing new, Arthur can’t help but worry every time you go out on a date with a new guy. In reality, he knows you and Patrick have been going out for a while. You’ve told him about Patrick a few times when you called him when he was away for races, and he’s met the guy, but there’s a feeling he just can’t seem to shake off.

“Are you sure you want to go on this date?” Arthur asks behind the door to your bedroom.

You groan when the earring you’re trying to get stuck in your hair. “For the millionth time, Arthur, I’m sure.” You check yourself in the mirror for the last time before grabbing your handbag and opening you door to come face to face with a worried face. “Why are you so stressed over this?” You ask him, rummaging through the handbag in your hand to find your lipstick.

“I’m not stressed, poupette.” doll. Arthur scoffs, watching you with a stern look on your face. “I’m just making sure you’re feeling up to going out tonight.”

“I’m feeling fine, ma moitié, my other half, you have nothing to worry about.” You assure him with a sweet smile on your face while playfully patting his chest. “Stop acting like this, you look like your mother.”

“Fine, then, you look like my mother.” You shrug as Arthur rolls his eyes. Loud cackles coming from the living room suddenly grabs both of your attention, making you smile even wider. “Lorenzo, Charles, hi!”

The two brothers sitting in your living room gives you bright smiles and Hellos. Charles gives you a glance, eyebrows raised as he asks, “Aren’t you going to be cold without a jacket?”

“You’re not taking a jacket?” A voice exclaims from behind, making you roll your eyes as you point towards Arthur with the tilt of your head.

“You happy?” You ask while raising your eyebrows. “A jacket doesn’t go with my dress.” You explain, expectantly looking at the older driver as you open your arms and pointing to the dress.

“Uh, sure, Y/N.” Charles nods in thought.

Lorenzo hits the back of his brother’s head lightly, shaking his head towards him as he speaks to you. “I think you look lovely, have a good night.”

“Thank you, Enzo!” You beam, walking towards the front door as you yell. “Arthur I’m leaving, don’t wait up!” At the mention of his name, Arthur comes running towards the front door, reminding you that you can call him at any point during the night if you feel uncomfortable, which in return you assure him you’ll be fine and leave after giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He sighs deeply as he watches you leave the apartment, and only realises both of his brothers watching him with funny expressions after he closes the door and turns back with the jacket still in his hands. “What?”

“So,” Charles begins when all three of them are sitting on the couch in your living room, getting ready to play a round of FIFA. “How long have you been crushing on Y/N, again?”

Arthur groans, his face contorting up in a grimace. “Not this again, Charles.”

“No, he has a point.” Lorenzo mumbles, siding with his brother. “You’ve had a crush on her since you were seven, Arthur.”

“Exactly!” Charles exclaims, pointing to Arthur excitedly. “Why haven’t you done something about it yet?”

“Because she is my best friend, you idiots.” Arthur shakes his head, choosing to focus on the game which just started on the screen instead of insistent look Charles and Lorenzo give him. “And, stop saying I have a crush on her.”

Charles lets out a disapproving sound as he, too, turns towards the game. “Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“We look each other normally.”

“You look like you want to make love to her every time you look at her.” Charles shrugs, making both his older and younger brother turn to him with disgusted looks on their faces.

“Charles!” Arthur complains. “No!”

“Please don’t ever use the words 'make love' in the same sentence as Arthur and Y/N.” Lorenzo begs, grabbing the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.” Charles shrugs, as he takes the opportunity to shoot his first goal. “But you can’t deny the fact that your overprotectiveness over Y/N doesn’t stem from your feelings for her. You’ve always been that way and it’s impossible for you to not feel something more for her.”

Arthur frowns, not because he is losing by the third minute of the game, but because of Charles’ words. “We’ve been friends since we were babies, Charles, of course I’m protective over her.”

“Which is understandable.” Lorenzo tries to reconciliate.

Charles lets out another disapproving mumble. “So you’d be okay with me asking her out?”

“Excuse-moi?” Excuse me? Arthur looks at his brother, appalled. “You’re going to do what?”

“Ask her out, Arthur. Would you be okay if I asked her out?” Charles repeats himself in a nonchalant manner, scoring another goal.

“Of course not!” Arthur cries out. “Why would you ask her out anyway? She’s seeing Patrick.”

Charles shrugs noncommittally. “She might break things off with him. You know, I always had a feeling she had a crush on me.”

“Charles.” Lorenzo scolds his younger brother.

However, Arthur is busy going through every single interaction you’ve had with Charles over the years; trying to find some actuality to his brother’s words. He pauses the game to turn towards his brothers, his eyes angry as he looks at Charles with a locked jaw. “No, you cannot ask out my best friend, you porc!” pig.

“Why?” He asks, with a fake innocent look on his face.

“Because, firstly, she is not a pawn you can use to prove something to me in some messed up game. And, two, she is mybest friend, my roommate and my–” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he knows how he would end the sentence if he would – which makes him think for a moment that his brothers just might be right.

“Okay, then.” Charles concedes, unpausing the game and taking advantage of the confused state Arthur is in to score, yet, another goal.

Though the game is going on, Arthur can’t seem to focus on it because he is too busy thinking about you, and whether he’s been in love with you his entire life.

It’s a couple weeks later when Arthur walks through the doors of the ballet studio you work at. He noticed over the few weeks that you’ve been down ever since you’ve stopped seeing Patrick, so he wanted to surprise you. He greets the old receptionist who works out in the front, giving her one of the tulips he got for you on his way there. When he gets in front of the classroom you usually teach in, he watches you with the kids as a soft smile find its way onto his face. He watches as you fix the techniques of some of the girls who are struggling, but instead of appearing upset, they are smiling as they try their best to fix their postures. When you move towards the old stereo on the corner of the room, he knows that the class is about to end – because something you do at the end of every class is letting the student dance freely to the music on the radio without giving them instructions. He watches as one of the smaller boys in the class shyly approach you, motioning you to bend to his height with his hand and then whisper something in your ear. You talk for a while, and he watches as the boy leaves with a smile on his face, which wasn’t there before, after giving you a hug and a small bouquet of flowers. Arthur waits until the class is over and all the kids have left the small studio to walk in.

“I was wondering if you offered any private lessons?” He asks with a boyish smile on his face.

You turn towards him, fast, when you hear your voice. Laughing as you cross the room and throw yourself into his waiting arms. “You couldn’t dance even if Marianela Núñez gave you dance classes herself, Turo.”

“Well I don’t need classes from her,” Arthur rolls his eyes. “All I need is you.”

You purse your lips, trying not to smile too widely, at the hidden meaning behind his words – the one which you somehow convince yourself that you’re imagining ever being there. Lightly leaning your head against Arthur’s chest, you begin talking. “You’re awfully sweet today, did you know that?”

He presses a light kiss onto the crown of you head, mumbling in thought. “Well, I missed you because I was alone at home all day. So I thought I’d come surprise you.” Pulling away slowly, he gives you the bouquet of tulips he is holding. “Speaking of which.”

“They look like the ones you used to get me after my recitals!” You squeal, taking the bouquet from his hand and inspecting it closely. “I love them, Arthur, thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked them, poupette.” He smiles. “Although, it seems that I have some competition today.”

You smile and shrug at the mention of the other bouquet sitting next to your bag. “Oh, that’s Leon. Some of the older kids at school’s been bothering him because he’s taking ballet classes.”

“You made him smile,” Arthur recalls, one of his hands cupping your cheek, which makes you look up to him. “Probably made his day, too.”

“I hope so.” You tell him, honestly. “He seem to like the classes; I would hate to see him leave just because of bullies at school.”

“You are a very good teacher, you know that?” Arthur murmurs, watching as a rosy colour takes over your cheeks.

“Stop it.” You huff, trying to push him off of you in a faux attempt. “Did you come here to make me blush, ma moitié?”

He shakes his head. “No, no. I thought we could go on a walk? At the marina, before it gets dark.”

You pretend to think for a moment, but smile, nonetheless. “Can we also get burgers?”

Arthur tries to profess his feelings for you when the two of you go on your ‘date’, he really does. When he sits down and thinks about it, rationally, he can convince himself that you have feelings for him, just the way he does for you. He can see it in the way you glance up at him every time he makes a joke, or the way you lean into his touch every time he touches you, which is a lot. He thinks he sees something every time you end up too close to each other; even convinces himself that perhaps you are expecting a kiss with the way your eyes slide to his lips a couple of times. But every time he tries to force himself to kiss you or tell you how he feels, an apprehensive doubt takes over his entire brain, somehow convincing himself otherwise, that doing so would only end up in you two getting completely messing up your friendship.

There’s also a part of his brain which consistently reminds him that it is Charles you have feelings for and not him. He doesn’t have a reason why he came to this conclusion; you’ve never explicitly told him about having feelings for his older brother, but there’s a part of him that still clings to Charles’ words – even though he didn’t actually mean anything by them. So as any person his age, who is going through what he’s going through, he takes a step back to observe. It all starts when the two of you go out for grocery shopping. It’s not a common occurrence that Arthur accompanies you, mainly because he is on the road most of the time, but he tags along because “He doesn’t want you to carry the bags on your own.” The two of you are busy fighting over cereal when you run into Charles, who provides a solution by offering that you buy both of the boxes. While you tell him it is probably the only way you and Arthur are going to agree on the fact, he is too busy picking apart every part of the interaction to see whether there could be any possibility of you having any feelings for his brother. The worst of them come a few weeks later, when Arthur and Charles come back from a race. All four of you, including Lorenzo, are seated at your dining table, enjoying takeover pizza when Charles announces that he started to see a girl. You all congratulate him, but after the conversation dies down, Arthur notices a familiar look of longing in your eyes. And that’s when he realises that you have feelings for Charles, and not him, and he absolutely needs to get over his feelings for you before it blows up in his face.

A couple of weeks later, one of his friends from racing invite you to a party. Arthur follows you, of course, because he doesn’t want you to go alone. He know it’s a terrible idea, though, once he sees you in the dress you chose for the party. It’s feels as if it’s impossible for him to keep his eyes (or his hands) off of you. He manages to let out a strangled answer when you ask him if you look okay, “You look good, Y/N.” The smile you give him return is so sweet, that he suddenly remembers that he should schedule an appointment with his dentist when he has the time. Though he doesn’t manage to convince you to take a jacket with you, he picks up his own as a precaution. The party is in full swing by the time the two of you arrive, which you light-heartedly scold him because the two of you are late. He considers apologising at first, but when he sees the smile on your lips, he just lets you drag him towards the bar without any objections.

“What do you want to drink?” You ask him, leaning over the bar to take a look at the limited menu. You know he wouldn’t want to drink if he was driving the two of you back home, but since you took an Uber to the night club, Arthur decides to drink as well.

“I’ll have tequila.” He answers after looking at the menu thinking about it for a second, and then turns to you. “You want to do shots?”

“Yes, please.” You nod, giving him your ‘prettiest’ smile. “Five?”

“Three.” He shakes his head and gives you a stern look. “And no mixing alcohols, either.”

You pout as you watch him order your drinks, your arms crossed over your chest pushing your breasts together. “You’re no fun.”

Arthur’s eyes fall down to your chest for a moment but he promptly fixes his gaze up to yours, as he places his hand on your hip to draw you close to him. He leans down towards you to whisper in your ear, “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

You purse your lips, choosing to play with the buttons on his shirt as a distraction. “We haven’t gone out to party in a while, sue me for wanting to have fun.”

“We will have fun.” Arthur contends as his thumb starts drawing circles on your hipbone. “Just not by doing something which will cause you to wake up hungover tomorrow.”

You give him a sarcastic smile. “Hm, mon chevalier en armure brillante.” my knight in shining armour. You turn to the bartender who brings over your drinks. “Thank you.”

Arthur eyes the bartender up and down, his look over quickly morphing into a side-eye once he realises where his eyes are looking at. He somehow pulls you closer to himself, caging you between himself and the bar, and lifts your chin up with two of his fingers to gaze into your eyes. “Be good, baby,” He tests. “Honey.” He warns.

“I am always good.” You counter, eyebrows furrowing in confusion because of his sudden possessive streak. “Are you okay?”

He waits until the bartender is tending to other customers to answer your question, his voice is in a lower octave but still somehow audible to you over the loud music in the club. “He was looking at your chest, poupette.”

“My boobs look great in this dress.” You reply while shrugging, the aloof look in your face making Arthur frown. “You didn’t need to act like a caveman, you know. The poor guy was probably scared.”

“Well, it’s too late now.” He replies, aloof, and downs one of his shots. “Are we doing this or not?”

It’s a bad idea, after all, tequila shots. Because after you’re done with the first three, you somehow convince Arthur that you need more, which means the both of you end up drinking six shots in the span of half-an hour. The bright side of this situation is that you convince Arthur to dance with you on the dancefloor, which he wouldn’t have done if he was sober. At some point throughout the night the two of you end up getting separated, which has you going around the night club looking for Arthur. You decide to ask some of his friends he introduced to you earlier, who tell you that he’s probably out taking some fresh air. He’s by himself outside of the club, leaning against a wall when you find him.

“What are you doing here all alone?” You ask him, tilting your head sideways to take a good look at him.

“It’s quieter out here,” Arthur shrugs, opening his arms and motioning you to come closer. “You’re going to freeze.”

You find yourself in his arms in record time, not that you could say no to his hugs anyway, his sway making you frown. “Are you okay, Turo?”

He smiles lazily at the nickname as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m drunk, ne devrait probablement pas conduire.” probably shouldn't drive.

“It’s okay, I’ll order an Uber.” He keeps his arms around you as you busy yourself with your phone, entering the address of your apartment.

Just like at the bar or when you were waiting for the Uber to arrive, Arthur doesn’t let you go completely when you’re in the backseat of the car. He makes you wear his jacket before you get into the car, though the oversized clothing doesn’t stop him from managing to make contact with your skin. He has a hand on your thigh, which is exposed because your dress keeps riding up. You make sure to keep an arm around him when you stumble through the door to your apartment.

You tell him to wait for you in his room and that you’ll be right over after you take your heels; however, he responds by throwing you over his shoulder as he walks through the corridor which leads up to his room. “Arthur, you’re drunk, put me down!”

“This doesn’t count as drunk driving.” He provides as an excuse, only putting you down when he enters his room – thankfully without any accidents.

You sit on his bed to take of your heels just as he jumps onto it, making it teeter because of his movements and makes you laugh at him. Shrugging off the jacket he gave you, you walk towards his closet to hand up the garment before the two of you forget about it. Arthur watches you move around his room with dazed eyes, trying very hard not to laugh when he sees you struggling with the hangers and cursing under your breath. His eyes move down your body when you kneel to get to the last drawer to get out a pair of sweatpants for him, which makes him silently groan at the sight. You walk towards him when you get out the sweats and a shirt for him to change into, poking his stomach to make him sit up straight. “Take off your shirt.”

“Are you trying to get me naked?” He asks, a smirk playing on his lips. “At least take me out to dinner first.”

“I cook you dinner all the time, Arthur.” You drawl, holding out the clothes for him to take.

He takes them while mumbling, “And I try my best to eat and enjoy all your attempts.”

“Casse toi, go away, asshole.” You snap, starting to walk out of the room.

“Where are you going?” He calls out.

You scoff, calling out back at him over your shoulder. “To get you water and Advil, you better be changed by the time I’m back or I’m putting you under the cold shower.”

He is, thankfully, changed by the time you get back with a glass of water and the painkillers you promised, You place them onto his nightstand, and face him. “Off to bed, you go.”

“Stay here tonight?” He asks you, but his voice is devoid of his previous playfulness.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, chéri.” You press a kiss against his cheek and then, feeling bold, you press another kiss to the beauty mark right above the corner of his lips. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, no matter how hard he tries to fall asleep. He keeps trying to convince himself to go to sleep, telling himself that the quicker he does, the quicker he’ll see you in the morning, but he is unable to do so. At some point in the night, he finds himself slipping through your door. He ends up slipping under your covers too, and pulls you against his chest, causing you to stir in your sleep as you cuddle his side.

“Go back to sleep, honey.” He whispers as he closes his eyes, and he finally drifts off to sleep when he finally has you in his arms.

You’re sleeping on top of him when he wakes up the next morning with his face buried in your hair. Your closed eyes and even breathing indicates that you’re still asleep, which causes Arthur to do his best to stay still not to wake you up. He soaks up every moment of it until your eyes flutter open and you let out a low whine, asking, “Why are you in my bed? How’d you get here?”

“I sneaked in.” He replies, pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Good morning, baby.”

“I’m loving the new nicknames; baby, honey?” You mumble, nuzzling your nose against his jaw. “Why’d you sneak in?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He confesses with a strained look on his face, and then he announces. “You’re not my girlfriend.”

You pick up your head so quickly, you think you’re going to break your neck. “I’m aware of that fact, Arthur.” You manage to get out in a clipped voice.

“And I should probably be thinking about protecting our friendship first, but I have to say this even though you have feelings for my brother.”

“Your brother?” You look at him with your mouth agape. “You think I have feelings for your brother? Lorenzo? He’s like my brother!”

He’s taken aback by your question. “No- not Lorenzo! Do you have a crush on Lorenzo?”

“No! You idiot, why would I have feelings for Lorenzo?” You ask him as you scramble to get off of him, letting yourself fall to the bed and pick up your pillow to hit Arthur over the head with. “I don’t have feelings for either of your brothers, other than being friends, you disgusting pig!”

“You don’t have feelings for Charles?” He asks you tentatively which earns him another hit on the head with the pillow. “Okay, would you please stop that?”

“No, I don’t have feelings for Charles, either! Oh my god, Arthur, what is wrong with you?” The look you give him reflect how much you’re hurt, your fingers occupy themselves with the edge of the pillowcase as you ask, “Do you honestly think I’d be in bed with you like that if I had feelings for your brother?”

He’s careful as he asks, “…No?” He lets out a frustrated groan as he pushes himself to get to a standing position. “I don’t know what to think, anymore. I like you so much that somehow you’ve taken over my entire brain!”

“You… like me?” You ask him, breath hitching in your throat.

“No.” Comes his reply.

“So, you don’t like me?”

His hands grasp the roots of his hair. “No, I adore you, I am utterly infatuated by you, I am so besotted by you that every moment of my waking days are filled with the thoughts of you, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I even think about you when I’m on the track–”

“Arthur, breathe.” You warn him, your hands quickly going over his to try and get them off.

“You really don’t have feelings for Charles?” He asks in a small voice. You answer him by shaking your head, which prompts him to ask, “Then why were you sad when he announced he was seeing someone?”

“He told me you’d confess your feelings to me before he ever found someone to date for himself.” You shrug, the corners of your mouth dipping as if you’re trying to keep tears at bay. “I guess I somehow made myself believe you would.”

“Baby–” He stops himself. “Honey, please don’t cry.” He reaches over you to wipe away some of the stray tears that have escaped your eyes, taking a deep breath. “I am stupid.”

“Very much so, yes.” You agree with him as you lean against his touch. “Though, I’m surprised you didn’t notice me flirting with you over the past year.”

“You’ve been flirting me for a year?” He asks you, baffled.

You fix him with an unamused look. “Do you think I go around talking about my boobs with everyone?”

“You better not be.” He scoffs as he draws you closer to him.

“I just might do so if you don’t do something about it.” You egg him on without changing the expression on your face.

You squeal as Arthur picks you up and gently throws you down on the bed, quickly changing his position to hover over you as he presses kisses all over your face. “Mine,” He announces. “Mine, my girl.”

“I like the sound of that,” You breathe out. “But I liked the others more.”

“Which ones?” He asks while letting his finger trace over the outline of your lips.

“Baby, honey, I don’t even know what you were trying to say.” You giggle.

“Mine.” He whispers. “I was trying to say that you’re mine.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #arthur leclerc smut #arthur lecler fluff

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goldenbuckyyy · 2 years ago

Text

IT’LL BE OKAY

Summary: After your Halloween hookup with Eddie Munson, it never really ended from there. Now it’s Valentine’s Day.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word count: 6.3kish

Warnings: SMUT (!!), oral (f!&m! receiving), vaginal fingering, raw sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, cream pie, making out, dry humping, some angst, crying.. anything else?! Let me know!!

A/N: I had been wanting to write some Eddie for a while now and a lot of people loved part 1! So, decided to write another part to it! I had originally wanted to post it on Feb. 14, but as always.. life and work happens!! So, hopefully you all enjoy. 🥹 I’m tagging whoever asked to be tagging in the first part! Song title inspo: “It’ll be okay” by Shawn Mendes.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts! Love reading them. 🫶🏻

Part 1 | Main Masterlist

Eddie usually hated Valentine’s Day.

He hated the whole pink and red hearts vibes, the way the word “love” was splattered on every open surface, and the way he would see couples left and right.

He had never celebrated Valentine’s Day with someone. Not in his eighteen years of life.

He doesn’t think he’s ever even had sex on Valentine’s Day either.

Maybe that’s why he hates it so much.

But, man… you love Valentine’s Day.

You never specifically said it out loud, but he knew you loved it.

You loved pink hearts and your clothing sure showed it. You had cardigans with hearts all over them, you had a bag in a heart shape, you’d draw hearts all over him and his tattoos when you guys would lay down naked in bed, and he loved the way you looked lately as you walked down the decorated halls of Hawkins High School.

He loved seeing your wide smile as you admired all the decorations, the way you’d reach out to touch them with your fingertips with your bright red painted nails, and he especially loved the way he noticed your cheeks blush when someone would ask you who you were going to spend your Valentine’s Day with.

You’d blow off the question with a laugh and a shrug knowing damn well you had already said no to over a million of guys who had asked you out.

And when your friends weren’t looking, your eyes would slowly travel to where Eddie was. Where he always was. Leaning against his lockers that were across from you, he was surrounded by his friends, and your eyes would lock with his.

You’d blush every single time you noticed that he was already looking at you. You’d get flustered and proceed to look away with a shy smile on your lips.

Eddie wondered how you were the same girl he fucked recklessly in that bathroom at Kassidy Norway’s house that Halloween night.

That night lived in Eddie’s thoughts for ages. Shit, it still does most nights.

Nowadays, Eddie had wayyyy more images than he ever thought he’d ever get a chance to see. He was a lucky, very lucky, man.

He’s seen every inch of you. He knows every inch of you.

He’s also seen you bent down against a wall in the back of the old movie theater. An image of your skirt bundle up over your ass and your panties shoved to the side flash in his thoughts.

He’s seen you down on your knees, peebles scraping the skin around them, because you couldn’t wait to get into the car to get him in your mouth. The way you moaned as he fucked your mouth with his cock and the way you shoved your fingers inside your panties to touch yourself.

He’s seen you spread out in the back of his van, naked as the day you were born, and completely blissful. The way you’d lay out after he’d fuck you would send him chills. He’d fuck you anyway you liked it. Anything you asked of him, he’d do.

He’s seen you bouncing on his thighs, sitting on his face, riding his fingers, legs behind your head, back arched with your ass up, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s sporting a semi right now as he thinks about all of this.

Eddie smiles once you wave bye to your friends and that’s his cue to do the same. He tells the guys he’ll see them later and he strolls towards you.

You spot him walking towards you and you smile lazily.

The same smile you wore last night when he dropped you off at your house after some mind blowing sex and some deep talk at his trailer. And maybe a little dancing in your underwear on his bed as he played his guitar.

He always had fun when he was with you.

“Hi,” you say with a hip tilt and batting your eyelashes. Your fingertips reach toward his face to push his curls behind his ears.

“You don’t gotta do all that for me, sweetheart. You already got me wrapped around this,” he grips your hand in his and bites your index finger with a smirk, “little finger.”

You roll your eyes as he reaches for your bag and proceeds to hold your stuff while he walks you to class.

Eddie indulges you on whatever topic of the day, giving his input when needed, and then you’re outside of your home room.

You smile as Eddie hands you your bag and you both look at each other sheepishly.

It’s always like this between you guys. Shy smiles and teasing grins at school, but completely different in private. Eddie loved it. He loved seeing you squirm in school because of his attention on you and then seeing the complete vixen that you truly are.

“See you in the last block?” You question curiously, letting your fingers intertwine with his, not really caring who sees. You always said it wasn’t anybody’s damn business.

Eddie kisses your cheek delicately, “I’m skipping.”

“Eddie,” you scold as your eyes widen, but Eddie’s already jogging away from you with a smile on his face.

“You won’t be scolding me tomorrow!” He yells at you and he doesn’t miss the way you break out into a big smile. His favorite smile.

At 7:30 am the next morning, right as you're walking out your front door to walk to school, you are standing on your porch when you see Eddie standing there with a big grin on his face.

Your face immediately breaks out into a grin, “Eddie? What are you doing here?” Your eyes darting all over his body to simultaneously check him out and wondering why he has his hands behind his back.

He’s grinning so hard that his dimples are showing and he looks so handsome. He’s in his regular attire, but you love it. He’s wearing his black jeans with his dangling chains, white chucks, his DnD long sleeve underneath his jean jacket, and his curly hair is messy. Curls framing his adorable face with his cut bangs covering his forehead. You want to run your hands through them.

You walk up to him and place a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I got you something,” Eddie says with a whisper and slight hint of mischief behind his tone. You raise an eyebrow, following his arms as he untucks them from behind himself, and you gasp when he pulls out what he’s hiding.

Eddie watches you as your eyes swell up with adornment and you sigh so lovely that it’s almost sickening the way his heart flutters at your expression.

He holds onto the fluffy pink teddy bear he had gotten you that has a big heart in the center of it with the words, “Kiss me” splattered in the center.

He holds it out for you as your expression goes from surprised to amusement to completely grateful in the span of fifteen seconds. You reach for it and squeeze it into your chest.

“You shouldn’t have,” you quickly say with a breathless smile and Eddie swears he sees tears in your eyes.

Eddie pulls you into his arms, wrapping his around your torso as the bear gets squished between you guys, and he leans down to kiss your sweet tasting lips.

He kisses you easily and softly. Almost like it’s second nature to him already. His warm hands grip the sides of your cheeks as your lips move against his in a rhythm that feels natural.

It’s almost unfair how soft and sweet your lips feel against Eddie’s. Eddie almost wants to come undone right here on your front steps.

Your free arm, the one not holding your brand new and favorite teddy bear, wraps around Eddie’s shoulders with ease and you pull against his back to move closer into you.

He chuckles into your mouth and you can feel him smiling which causes you to smile and to slowly pull away, but before you do you give him a million pecks on his lips as you both giggle childishly.

“You’re sweet on me,” you whisper into his lips as you slowly shove away some of his loose curls that tickle your cheeks.

“Always am, sugar.”

In your last class, which surprisingly was the only class you had with Eddie, you were already anxiously waiting for the school day to end. You had already been wanting to give Eddie his gift and you were in your headspace about it when you heard multiple people calling out your name.

You snap out of your thoughts and immediately sit up straight when Mrs. Johnson is walking over to you with a big bundle of red roses in a glass vase.

Your mouth parts open in shock as she hands you the vase and you set it down on your desk. You can feel yourself blushing as the girls around you are giggling and asking who sent you the roses.

“They’re beautiful, honey. You are a lucky lady,” Mrs. Johnson says with her sweet smile and honey voice. You whisper a quick thank you as you easily look over your shoulder at Eddie who’s sitting in the back row.

He’s staring right at you with a smirk on his face which causes you to break out into a cheeky smile.

You inhale the sweet scent of the beautiful roses in front of you and sigh in contentment. How did you get this lucky? And who would have thought that Eddie Munson was a secret romantic?

“Thank you for my roses,” you pant out above Eddie as your arms wrap around his shoulders and your hands go into his curls. Eddie moans as he starts kissing your neck, running his hands up your naked thighs and underneath your pink skirt, and when he reaches your core, he groans with his head tilting back to meet your eyes.

You smile as you pull his lips to yours once more, “I forgot to put them back.” You whisper teasingly into his mouth.

Eddie almost cums at your words as he moves his fingers to your pussy, which is already soaked, and he loves that you do stuff like this. Always doing something that shocks him. He fucking loves you.

Wait..

Does he love you?

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you.

He thinks he wants to tell you that tonight. Maybe make whatever this is between you two official.

He slips one of his fingers into your warm heat and you whimper as you feel your walls tightening around his digit. Your nails dig into the skin behind his neck and you start grinding your hips against his own. You feel how hard he is underneath his jeans and you can almost feel him throbbing.

Eddie grips your neck with his free hand, kissing you roughly as he slips in another finger, curling both of them in you to hit your spot, and the feeling of him stretching you out makes shives run down your back.

Eddie moves his thumb to your clit and starts moving his fingers together, trying to get you to your peak, “Fuck me, sweetheart. You’re absolutely dripping.”

You lick his lips to taste him, “All for you.”

After a heated almost sex almost orgasm make out sesh in Eddie’s van, you had told him to come back around nine pm once you knew your parents were asleep in bed and thankfully they were both deep sleepers.

You told him to go through the window and now here you are.

Waiting for him in only your babydoll pink outfit.

It shouldn’t even be considered an outfit by how it was basically mesh and didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

But you knew Eddie was going to go feral over it. He’s seen you naked plenty of times, but never in anything like this.

The lingerie was baby pink in color with matching underwear. The little dress fanned out on your waist which you loved. And you looked at yourself in the mirror once more.. just to admire the cute outfit before Eddie ripped it off of you.

You hear a soft knock on your window which causes your heart to race immediately and you rush to open it. The cold Indiana air rushing over your skin and making goosebumps arise all over you.

You stand back as Eddie makes his way into your room. You quickly settle into the bed, crossing your legs, and leaning back to make your body look appetizing and wanting for him. You adjust your hair to fall over your shoulders and you hope you look as good as you feel right now.

Eddie is adjusting his jacket over your empty chair and ruffling his hair as he looks over at you for the first time and he stops in his tracks.

His lips part open, baby brown eyes going wide, and he puts his hand on his chest dramatically. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, baby?”

You giggle, “Maybe.” You hook your toe into one of his belt loops and pull him into you as best as you can. His cold hands touch your burning thighs and it feels amazing.

“You look breathtaking,” your lover says as he cups your face in his hands and leans down to kiss your lips.

Eddie crushes his own lips against yours, moaning at the taste of your sweet chapstick, and how you always seem to reciprocate to him in the best way.

He loves the way your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders and the way you lean back to spread your legs wide open for his own hips to mold into yours.

Eddie pulls away slowly, your arms unlinking from behind his neck, and falling down to your sides as you watch him watching you.

His eyes take in your flushed cheeks, to your already swollen lips, the straps of your lingerie are falling down your shoulders, and it makes Eddie want to groan.

He looks at your perky breasts covered in the mesh and your pretty nipples are pointy. He rubs his thumbs on both of them over the lingerie and you gasp as the sudden contact. Your thighs rub together as he thumbs your nipples in between his fingers.

“You’re a fucking dream,” Eddie whispers as he licks his lips while he moves his hands down your full breasts and to the opening of the lingerie. He lets his hands go under the opening and holds onto the curve of your waist.

“A fucking dream,” he mutters again as he moves his hands down to your matching mesh underwear and he slips his hands underneath the sides.

Then, Eddie slips down to his knees and he’s pulling your underwear down with him.

You feel the cold air hit your already soaked area and you whimper as Eddie removes your underwear from your legs. He starts kissing you from your ankles to your inner thighs and that’s where he starts leaving small bites of kisses all over you.

You adjust yourself onto the edge of your bed, soft goosebumps covering your body as you wait in anticipation for Eddie to touch you, to do anything to you, and you close your eyes when you feel his warm breath against your pussy.

You feel his fingers slowly start to spread you open and you feel his tongue flick your opening slightly.

You gasp in pleasure, your belly tightening in want, and your breathing is rising as Eddie licks a strip from your aching hole to your pulsating clit.

And Eddie feels obsessed with you. He’s obsessed with your pretty legs, your pretty thighs, and your fucking pretty pussy.

He’s obsessed with the way your body responds to his touches. The way he can spend hours kissing and marking your thighs. And how he loves the way you respond to the way he eats you out.

He buries his face into your pussy as he starts eating you out as a starved man. He licks your folds, his fingers moving to open you up, and then proceeds to lick your aching hole once again.

A tingling sensation runs through your spine which causes your back to curve upwards into the air, a pleasurable moan escaping from the back of your throat, and one of Eddie’s strong hands holds you down by your hip.

He moves his lips towards your clip, sucking and licking it, and simultaneously inserts one of his fingers into your hole. You gasp as you grind your hips into him.

Eddie moans into your pussy, sending vibrations into your core, and he starts to move his finger into you. Slowly opening you up. “Fuck, almost so fucking tight for me. All for me, right baby?” Eddie rushes out as he lays his tongue flat against your pussy, letting your juices coat his mouth and his chin, and when you look down to meet his eyes… he smiles so hard, his dimples show.

“You’re a dream, baby.”

Eddie continues to maintain eye contact with you as he sucks in all your juices. He pulls away, licking his lips messily, and watching your pussy clenching down his finger. He inserts another, your soaking walls clenching down again as you feel his other finger inside of you, and you grip onto the sheets underneath your body.

Eddie starts panting a little as he watches you squirming underneath him, spread out in all your glory for him. Just for him.

He watches the way you grind your hips into his fingers, the way your pussy soaks his fingers, and the way you confidently touch your body with your hands. Twisting your nipples in between your fingers and biting your bottom lip in want.

The knot in the bottom of your belly is getting tighter as pleasure is seeping out of your pores.

“E-Eddie,” you moan out as you reach down to wrap your hands into his curls and before he can say anything, you shove his head back down to your aching pussy. Needing him to finish you off.

You hear Eddie chuckle as you shove him down and then he continues to eat you out, just the way you like it. His free hand moving underneath your hips and squeezing your ass in his hold.

Eddie continues to pump his fingers inside of you, curling them in your walls, and sucking on your clit which makes your toes curl in anticipation. Your hands tighten around his curls, tugging generously, and he never stops.

“Oh,” you moan out, back arching a little bit to move your center to the perfect angle that will help you achieve your orgasm, and Eddie only goes faster and harder. The knot in your belly starts to tighten and you feel almost over the edge.

“Eddie, Eddie, E-Eddie,” you continue to moan out his name as you clench your eyes shut as you feel your orgasm take over your entire body. His fingers pump inside of you, his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit, and you bite onto your forearm to try and conceal your screams.

Your toes curl against your bed as your orgasm washes completely over you as Eddie licks up all your juices until you're shaking and laying down limp on your bed. He removes his fingers from your sore pussy and you look down at him with a lazy smile, he sucks his fingers into his mouth with a moan.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispers as he leans over to you and kisses you, open mouthed, and lazily with tongue. You taste yourself as you kiss him, both moaning together, and you bite his bottom lip.

You moan as you wrap your arms around him, “I need you.”

Eddie whimpers at your words and pulls away from you. He quickly starts to strip out of his clothes as you giggle. You sit on your calves as you both watch each other. He stumbles out of his boots, trying not to fall, and shoves off his jeans.

You slowly pull off your babydoll outfit and toss it to the floor, watching Eddie as he yanks off his shirt, and you lean back on your elbows.

Eddie slows down as he watches you spread out for him and he bites his bottom lip. He shoves down his boxers and his red-tipping, almost aching thick cock bounces up and down. He palms himself as he watches you, “Ready for me?”

“Always am,” you whisper into the quiet room as you do grabby hands for him as his big, lean body towers over you.

He slips his hand behind your back and one behind your head as your lips move messily against his own. He moves his hips against yours which causes his pulsating cock to move in between your folds and he allows himself to rub against your swollen clit. It sends bolts of electricity all over your body as you had just orgasmed.

You both moan into each other’s mouth at the sensation, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer into you, and you spread your legs wider to allow him easier access. He pulls away from your mouth, kissing your neck with small licks, and sucks a little bit near your collarbone.

“You want me?” He whispers into your ear as he sucks on your earlobe. Chills run down your spine as a memory fills your brain when he asked you the same thing a couple months ago on Halloween night.

You follow the same movements you did that night, pulling his face towards you as you cup his chin, eyes locking together, and you nod as you reach down to grip onto his length. Eddie lets out a shaky breath as he feels your warm hand wrap around him and you can feel him twitching in your hold.

You thumb the tip of his cock, coating it with his pre-cum, and you rub him in between your folds. Eddie feels the same way he felt that night when he first had you underneath him. He’s aching for you, like he always does. He still feels like he’s going to explode just by being above you.

You rub his throbbing cock along your soaking pussy and center him with your opening, “Take me.”

Eddie almost cums at your words as he kisses you again. He feels your opening against his cock and he pushes into your tight, warm, fucking delicious pussy.

You both whimper together as he pushes into your tight hole, bottoming out, and feeling you stretching around him. It burns slightly, but it feels blissful. Never truly accommodating to his size and it always feels just as amazing. The stretch you feel when he enters you almost feels unexplainable. Every. Single. Time.

Your limbs mesh together in sync, legs intertwined together, and hands touching everywhere they possibly can. You’re kissing each other with open mouths, tongue playing against each other, and then Eddie starts to move. His hands gripping your breasts roughly, twisting your nipples in between his fingers, and moving his mouth to suck bruises into each one of them.

His thrust are slow and tender as he slowly moves in and out of you. His rhythm going easy and taking his time as he fully feels you around his cock, your pussy clenching around him, and your nails raking down his back.

“Always so wet for me, huh princess?”

“Always,” you whimper out as he starts to increase his speed above you. Your lover's hands move down to caress your belly and then he settles them onto your waist, holding down tightly as he tilts his own hips higher as he thrusts inside of you.

You moan out loudly when you feel him hit the area that sends you the most pleasure, your mouth hanging open with your whines, and Eddie moves one of your legs up to your chest which causes his cock to enter into you at a different angle.

You grip onto Eddie’s arms as he starts thrusting into you at a rapid, almost animalistic, speed. The wet sounds of his cock entering you fill your bedroom sweetly and you lean down to kiss his collarbone. The sweet smell of sex slowly filling your bedroom and you look up to admire Eddie’s.

Eddie’s skin is flushed from his cheeks to his chest, tinted pink and beautiful, and you run your tongue on his neck as you reach his soft spot. You let yourself kiss and suck for a second, making sure you linger enough to mark him up. Just the way he likes it.

“Fuckk,” Eddie whimpers out, “You always feel like fucking heaven. Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. M-Made just for me.”

You twist your hips a little bit as you move your leg from your chest to rest above Eddie’s shoulder, tugging him by his arms lower into you, and you both gasp as you feel him fall deeper inside of you. Your pussy clenching around his cock trying to suction him in more.

Eddie chokes on a moan as you squeeze your walls to grip onto his cock, knowing he loves when you do that, and he moves his hand in between your bodies.

His fingers ghost over your pussy and he kisses your lips, open mouth kisses with his tongue tasting you, “Fuck, baby. I’m not even touching you yet and my fingers can feel your hot pussy aching for me.”

You whimper as you tilt forward to catch his lips again while he moves his finger over your swollen clit and you cry out from the instant pleasure you feel.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, clenching his eyes shut for a second, and he laughs. “I’m trying not to cum so hard right now.”

“I’m close,” you whisper as you feel the aching feeling starting up at the pit of your belly once more and Eddie breaks out into a smile.

“Thank fuck ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can hold it,” Eddie says as he kisses your lips while he continues to move his finger against your clit. You feel the familiar sensation start to creep up in your toes, you wrap your arms around Eddie’s shoulders, and you start moving your hips against his to cause greater friction between you two.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Are you ready to cum with me?”

You nod frantically as your fingernails start to dig into Eddie’s shoulder blades as his free hand grips onto the plush of your hip.

“Eddie,” you cry, “Fuck! Right there! Don’t stop! I’m about to—“

“Cum for me,” Eddie cuts you off with a demand.

You gasp out at his demand and you quickly grab his face with both of your hands, your fingers caress his cheeks and his lips, and you both stare into each other in a breathless mess.

“Together,” you whisper as you both keep moving together in sync.

And then it happens.

You choke on your moans as you feel your body explode with pleasure as your stomach tightens and your toes curl into your mattress. Your ears start ringing in white noise as you clench your walls around Eddie’s cock.

Eddie swears he’s fucking a goddess right now because there’s no other explanation for the absolute dream that’s underneath him right now.

Eddie watches you come undone under him and it completely triggers his own orgasm. Your tight walls clench around his throbbing cock and he lets himself release into your heavenly pussy.

Eddie starts to thrust into you harder and faster as his cum fills your walls. You pull on his cheeks to make your lips meet his in the middle and you both are trying to find your breath through the kiss.

Eddie rests his forehead against yours, softly pulling his lips away from yours, and he admires you as you smile blissfully up at him. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glossy, hair a mess, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone more beautiful.

But he’s always felt that way about you.

He holds your ankle on his shoulder as he slowly pulls out of your cum filled pussy and you both hiss at the emptiness.

Eddie reaches over to your bedside table and gets a couple tissues. He spends the next couple of minutes cleaning you up, slowly to not hurt your sore pussy, and it almost makes you ache for him all over again.

Once he’s done cleaning you and himself, he relaxes next you and you pull the covers over your bodies.

You smile sweetly at him, your heart rate finally slowing down, and you stretch for a second to twist and look at him.

You admire him from his long, curly hair to his long dark eyelashes that coat his beautiful chocolate brown eyes to his pouty red, kissed out lips and when he catches you starting, he breaks out into a smile.

You reach out to put your index finger in his dimple and he blushes under your touch. Eddie turns his body to also face you

“So, babydoll.. who was your first?” Eddie asks nonchalantly as he twirls his fingers through your hair.

Your eyes immediately go wide with shock at his question and you burst out into fits of giggles. You tug your covers over your naked chest, twisting to look at him, and you settle on your side.

You can’t stop giggling as he joins in with you.

“You can’t ask me that, Eddie!”

“‘Course I can, baby. I’m in your bed naked after we just had mind blowing sex. I think I can ask you anything I want,” he teases with a sly smile that shows his white teeth.

“You can’t get mad, okay?”

Eddie’s eyes light up with interest as he proceeds to push himself up on his elbows, “I’m listening.”

He watches you as you bite your bottom lip, your flushed out face and neck is calming down, and your hair is laid out messily all over you.

But Eddie still thinks you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

That’s why when you say the name of the lucky bastard that you gave your virginity to.. Eddie lets out a choked gasp intertwined with a barking laugh.

His eyes go wide as he watches you, “Did you just say Steve fucking Harrington?!”

You cover your face with your hands as you smile widely behind them and Eddie can’t help but laugh so loudly that he’s clutching his belly.

“Don’t laugh at me!! It was back in freshman year when we were dating, but it was very short lived and we moved past it.”

You giggle with Eddie as you both clumsily sit down on the bed, facing each other, and then you suddenly see a look come across Eddie’s face that halts your laughter.

His laughing dies down, his eyes downcast, and he’s frowning for a second. He quickly shakes his head from his thoughts and ruffles his hair to distract himself.

“Hey, Eddie. What’s wrong?” You ask as you reach for his hand to hold in your own, your eyebrows furr down in confusion at his sudden change of mood.

Eddie bites his bottom lip in thought before he moves his beautiful big puppy brown eyes to meet yours.

“It’s just.. I’m not mad that you lost your virginity to Steve Harrington. I’m sure he was a good fuck or what-shit, ignore that! It’s just—fuck,” he blubbers rapidly and you squeeze his hand for him to continue as he sighs loudly, “it’s just.. Steve Harrington.. is Steve Harrington. He’s the popular guy. The handsome guy with the nice hair and cool car.”

You tilt your head when Eddie watches you with expecting eyes as if you’re supposed to understand what he means, but you don’t get it. What’s so good about Steve?

Not that there’s anything wrong with him. But you’re confused.

“I don’t get it?” You say with confusion and a slight pout.

Eddie looks down, rubbing his thumb on your hand, he says, “Steve is Steve and I’m.. well… I’m just me?”

His voice sounds small and suddenly you feel your heart tighten in your chest.

“Oh,” you let out a shocked little sigh as you see a side of Eddie that he’s never shown you before.

A side where he feels inferior to Steve Harrington and he’s showing how he’s insecure about it.

“It’s just.. I’m just Eddie the weirdo that lives in a beat up trailer park with his uncle and I sell drugs for a living.”

“Eddie,” you whisper as you try to reach for his face, but he pulls away. He’s suddenly shut himself down completely.

He almost looks upset.

“I’m nothing, god… I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to realize this.”

Eddie is suddenly shaking his head and jumping out of your bed. You sit up in the bed, holding your sheets to your body, and Eddie is tugging on his clothes.

“Jesus Christ,” he says with an exacerbated laugh and another shake of his head.

“Eddie, please stop. I’m so confused, what’s going on?” You try to beg him as he simultaneously shoves on his boots and you shove off the sheets.

You stand up, naked and without a care, and you stand in front of him as he adjusts his jean jacket over his shoulders. You put your hands on his shoulders to stop him and he curls into himself almost as he’s ashamed.

He tries to avoid your eyes as you look up to him in confusion, your heart is racing, and you don’t know what’s happening.

He finally looks down at you, his sad eyes taking in every inch of you, and he looks suddenly miserable.

His fingertips slowly touch the curve of your waist and he quickly pulls his hands away as if your skin burned him.

He slowly reaches down to your lips and kisses you slowly. You try to kiss him back, but he pulls away swiftly.

“I’m nothing,” he says again with shame.

“Eddie, you’re not—“

“I am,” he cuts you off. “And you’re.. god, you’re everything. You’re smart, funny, so fucking caring, and beautiful. You’re so gorgeous that it's honestly insane,” he chuckles as he meets your worried eyes, “You’re everything and you deserve better than me.”

“Eddie, stop. You don’t—“

“I do,” he cuts you off again. “This was never going to work. We aren’t even really together. We’ve just been messing around for months, but we all know where this is going. You’re going to New York or LA to follow your dreams and I’m staying here. You’re going to become someone and I’ll always be a nobody. You don’t need me dragging you down.”

Tears instantly fill your waterline, “Eddie, what are you talking about?” You beg him as your voice shakes and your lips quiver.

He shuts his eyes for a moment as if the mere sight of you hurts him.

“Don’t waste your tears on me, doll. I’m not worth it. You’re leaving in a couple months, so might as well end this before we get too into our heads.”

He gets the blanket off your bed and quickly covers your body with it before he walks over to your window.

You watch him, not knowing what to say, and you’re frowning deeply with tears staining your cheeks. What the hell is going on?

He looks at you as he raises the window up, letting in the wind, “It’s easier like this, doll. Trust me.” He tries to smile, but his lips waver.

You rush to him, gripping onto his hand that’s holding him steady as he eases himself out the window and onto the roof, “Don’t do this to me, Eddie Munson. Why are you doing this? Please.”

He almost hesitates, but then he only tugs his hand away from your hold and you let out a whimper.

“Sorry, doll. Guess you were just into this more than me.”

He quickly rushes out the window, slamming it shut, and leaves you there with a shocked open mouth and a gasping breath.

You cover your face as you scramble to sit on your bed. You hold the blanket over your naked body as you cry over what he said to you.

Had you been more into this than him?

Did he never really feel the same way you did? Why was it so easy for him to just end whatever this was?

You grip onto the blanket as you quick step towards your window, looking at the overview you have of the street, and right under the tall street lamp is Eddie.

Standing underneath the light, smoking a cigarette, kicking his feet on the ground, and then proceeds to get into his van.

You watch every movement that he does, begging that he looks up at you, but he doesn’t. He just drives away.

You wonder if he can hear your heart breaking.

Eddie drives away in his van and his stereo is off.

Eddie’s stereo is never off. It’s always the first thing he does when he gets in his van. He always turns it on and shuffles through millions of cassette tapes he has and goes through them until he picks the perfect one.

But right now, he doesn’t want to hear anything. He wants to be alone with his thoughts.

His stupid fucking thoughts. His stupid insecurities. The stupid ones that made him fuck off from you and ruin everything he had with you.

Eddie slams the steering wheel with his palm as he rubs his eyes with his free one. He’s beyond frustrated with himself and is cursing at everything he sees.

He’s such a fucking idiot.

But he knows he’s right about one thing.

You’re everything and he’s nothing.

How could something like that possibly work?

He scoffs as he feels a small tear run down his cheek, he grips the steering wheel even harder, and yells loudly. Trying to silence the thoughts in his brain.

He knows it will never work.

Now he just has to stay away from you and once school is over, he’ll never see you again.

Taglist: @theshabbygiftofdisillusion @duuhrayliegh @munsonficdump @lelifesaver @avalon-wolf @mcumorningstar @likeficsinthewnd @frootvelvet @optimisticallygarbage @lokis-army-77 @hes-a-rainbow @freakhellfire @roanniom @sunnysaid @freeshavocadoooo @see-were-laughing @lovelyholland02 @ilikechocolatemilkh @buckmepapi @adequate-superstar @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @sydneylaufeyson22 @quixscentsposts @aphr0d1teh @secretdryrose @ooo-protean-ooo @hereforshmut @eddiemunsonthoughts @m1lfptrl @sweetcrechy @alana4610 @tjbabe33 @hesvoid34 @daydreamerblues @bookshelf-dust @bitxhbeforreal @ihatepeanutss @1weirdbitch @lagataprrr @spread-the-hope @aimeephobic @slutfor-keery-quinn @boomhauer @catherinnn

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dropthedemiurge · 10 months ago

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Love for Love's Sake | Things You Didn't Notice #3 | Learning Korean with the boys

I have (barely) emotionally recovered after the ending of this series, and so I'm back with my usual translation notices and cultural specialties posts ^^ Long post ahead!

// Read previous posts with translations & comments I pointed out //

This time I'll look at the Episode 3 [Yeowoon's Affection level from 0 to -99]. Disclaimer: I'm not fluent in Korean but I've been learning it for years and I've lived and studied in Korea for a while. However, in particular Sangwon and Sia annoyed me so much this episode because their banter is so funny but I cannot decipher their wordplay 100% by ear without KR subs so I have to skip over their dialogues %)

Anyway, there's still some fun language stuff to point out!

- "You're late, Senior (hyung)" - "Senior? (Sunbae?)"

Fun fact: Sangwon, who's the same year as Yeowoon, addresses Myungha as "hyung". Meanwhile Yeowoon addresses Myungha only as "sunbae". Hyung is a term guys call their older male friends (if you're familiar with Thai BLs as well, it's same as "Pi"), meanwhile gender-neutral sunbae means senior, someone who's been longer than you in the industry or some institution (like school).

If I remember correctly, Yeowoon keeps calling Myungha 'sunbae/senior' until the very end of the show. Even when they are sleeping over in the same house after school hours, Yeowoon doesn't call Myungha hyung but sunbae only. In Korea, you use titles or formal full names to people older than you or acquaintances, and you usually use names with the people younger than you. That's why, if you think about it, there wasn't a moment in show when Yeowoon says Myungha's name :D Only sunbae. And that's normal. (this is also why Myungha never mentions Writer sunbae's name at all)

Also, we'll return to Myungha's usage of Yeowoon's name a bit later.

"Keep doing it if you want to die young, Sangwon-ah." "*gasp* You call me by my name when you're mad?"

But Sangwon is talking to Myungha in a very familiar way, using 'hyung' instead of 'senior' every time, making it feel like they are friends (and most of their interaction this episode revolves around Sangwon trying to make Myungha talk to him like a close friend as well xD).

Why is Sangwon so thrilled every time Myungha calls him by his name? Because there are many other Korean words you can use for people, especially if you're angry with them (ranging from the impolite 'this guy' to swearwords). But every time Myungha gives a casual warning to Sangwon who's annoying him, he still says "Sangwon-ah", which is how you'd call your younger friend who's just being a brat. No wonder Sangwon keeps pushing Myungha to get his attention and affection^^

On the topic of names and intonation: I noticed Myungha uses aegyo (acting cute) often when he talks to his grandma. However, with other school students, like I mentioned in my previous language posts, most of the time his speech feels like a patronizing talk of a 29-y.o. adult.

But! I found that one scene when Myungha is deliberately using aegyo with Yeowoon! The reason for it is that Yeowoon finally responded and wanted to meet up after avoiding him for so long, and Myungha is extremely excited.

"Yeowoon-ie, you're waiting for hyung?~" "Don't use that voice".

Two things: Myungha calls himself Yeowoon's "hyung" which feels closer than "sunbae", he wanted to take the next step and make their communication less formal. And instead of saying friendly "Yeowoon-ah" like he always does, he changed the pronunciation of his name to "Yeowoon-ie" — which is, together with the playful intonation in his voice, is so. fucking. cute. However, Yeowoon instantly rejected his aegyo and Myungha returned to the way he always spoke x) RIP.

I already pointed it out briefly in another post but – Myungha cooked a curry rice for dinner with Yeowoon. It might not seem like anything, but I thought it was an amazing detail to show later in the series that even when Yeowoon almost forgotten about Myungha who disappeared, he kept bulk buying rice with curry (yellow packages) for his dinner.

"You act like you're my parent (guardian)." "Well, you're not wrong."

I thought that Myungha telling Yeowoon he's not wrong about him being his "parent" was a bit weird, and indeed, the word they are using here is 보호자 (bohoja), which is "guardian". It can be said about parents but also about anyone who's protecting something or someone as well. Which is exactly what Myungha is striving to do in this world and in this game. To protect and take care of Yeowoon.

"My mom split (ran away) but my dad said she died." "I wish I could split (run away)... I kept running around the field because I felt frustrated. But how could I run away?"

Here I'll need some help from native English speakers, which I'm not, can 'split' be used in this dialogue with the same connotation? Because in Korean, Myungha clearly says "My mom ran away", to which Yeowoon responds "I wish I could run away" and immediately remembering about the reason why he became a runner. And I just loved the accent the show made on this word, which got lost in Gaga subs.

"Don't slack off because you think no one sees." "Maintain your image (Do some mental training)"

This one is surely a mistranslation. The coach says "Do Image Training", in Korea and in some other Asian countries, as far as I encountered this term, this basically means "mental training", or "meditation" and has nothing to do with maintaining one's reputation.

Think "breathe in, breathe out and think how well you'll do and imagine yourself running that race before it starts".

Yeah, probably no one cared about that dialogue or scene anyway, but I hope you're still enjoying my hyperfixation on this show xD Anyway, it's been a long post and I'm done for Episode 3 — but as a bonus, let me share bonus with one of the Sangwoon x Sia scenes.

I tried hard to figure out the word that Sia uses when Myungha pleads her to get rid of Sangwoon, and the closest I could get was 분력 (the power of Buddha), but one thing for sure — following Myungha's begging, Sia cross-sprayed Sangwoon with perfume like holy water and ordered him like "Begone, demon!". Lmao :D

#love for love's sake comments #haha i hope I won't fixate over every moment in the next episodes otherwise I'll never end #but there is such an interesting scene in Episode 4! It'll take me another long post for sure #love for love's sake meta #korean language #language #love for love's sake #kbl #korean bl #kdrama #bl series #korean drama #love supremacy zone #dropthemeta

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resowrites · 6 months ago

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Special Brew - oneshot.

Summary: Henry’s interview gets gatecrashed…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Reader/Wife!OC, Interviewer

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, fake interview, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript reader/OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2221

A/N: Hi folks I know it’s been a while, work’s nuts these days. This is very rushed and was meant to be longer (I wanted to base it on something I’d written previously) but for the sake of just getting something uploaded I decided to post as is. Sorry I can’t post regularly anymore but I hope you enjoy all the same - R x

Remember, this is pure fiction (as in completely made up), and not in any way meant to reflect reality. My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Gifs/pics not my own. Thanks for visiting!

Special Brew - oneshot.

The following is an excerpt from an article that can be read in full here.

— It's at about the halfway mark in my interview with the 41-year-old Hollywood actor, Henry Cavill, when I notice his attention is caught by something offscreen.

"Where did you get that?" I think I hear 'the fridge, you dickhead,' in reply. He grins. But instead of resuming our discussion about his upcoming role in the rebooted 80's classic, Highlander, he starts gesturing for someone to join him. It fails. So seconds later his partner is pulled onto his lap despite some very loud protestations. He tells her it's her fault for taking his last tin of lager. She tells him she needs it more. What then follows is an almost a four-and-a-half minute squabble - yes I actually timed it - which ends with Henry relinquishing the can on the proviso that if he has to be interviewed, she does as well. I don't take offense but soon wondered if that was premature:

"Who's interviewing you? The Telegraph?"

"No, The Guardian--"

"Wouldn't the Telegraph be more interested?" He gestures in my direction.

"Well, I assume Mark is all the same!"

"And how long have you been keeping this poor bastard?"

"We've not even been chatting half an hour!"

"Oh… have you got a second question for him?" I smile. The 35-year-old financier first met the actor in 2015 and they were rumoured to have married in 2022. Not that either of them, his publicist, or even various social media accounts provide much in the way of confirmation. This seems to stem more from a desire for privacy where possible than anything else. Though it must be said, at first glance they make for an incongruous pair. She catches me peering at her still towel-wrapped hair, Celtic jersey, and joggers combo and wastes no time striking first:

"That's a nice shirt--"

"Don't be cheeky, just 'cos you could have made more of an effort--"

"It's my day off! At least I don't look like an undercover policeman." Is she referring to Henry or myself?

"I don't know, stand up," I laugh but he just rolls his eyes. "Has he apologised for Aryglle yet? To be fair that was actually my fault, I wanted a new kitchen." This lays the ground for what is arguably one of the most chaotic interviews I've experienced in a while.

"Do you see what I mean, Mark? It's not that she wouldn't be media trained, it's that she couldn't." Now she rolls her eyes.

"See, he thinks he's being slick by making me look bad--"

"I'm the one who does that?!"

"So he looks better by comparison--"

"Is that right? And what was wrong with Aryglle?!"

"Nothing! It's the best thing you've ever done. Even if you didn't mean for it to be." She coughs to try and cover a laugh. I ask for her thoughts on his most recent box office offering (Guy Ritchie's spy action comedy, The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare) but for a split second, the title escapes me.

"You mean The Manly Ministry of Something?" Henry tuts and grabs back the can. I dare to question if she has a low opinion of the profession in general. "No, it's more to do with the actors themselves." How so? "Well, considering they're usually the biggest gobshites you'd think it'd be great craic hanging out with them--" he quickly interjects.

"Who are you calling a gobshite?!"

'What do you mean?"

"You know fine well what I mean!" Henry turns back towards me and continues. "Even her own mother took me aside a couple of weeks after we started dating to try and warn me--"

"She never! What did she say?"

"Do you really want to discuss that right now?!" It can't be that bad then, I respond. He shakes his head, despairingly. "Oh no, just that she once walked on stage at a school assembly and instead of graciously accepting an award, pretended to trip so she could drag every single trophy off the display table!"

"… Can you tell he went to a private school?" I almost spit my drink out.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not realise how tame that sounds?!"

"But that was just the first month you were there!"

"Then I deserved an award--"

"Hang on, she also told me that when you had an after-school detention on your birthday, you climbed out the window of the room you were being supervised in--"

"Normally I'd just get on the bus and go home so that time they gave me a personal escort--"

"And then refused to come down from the roof unless they gave her a birthday cake!" Laughter rings out between our two screens. "In the end, they had to call the fire brigade and she became the reason why their school couldn't properly open their windows any more--"

"I also got a ride home in a fire engine so, hands down one of my best birthdays." Henry sighs. I wonder aloud how this contrasts with his own experiences of school.

"Er, I mean I was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, so I felt a bit intimidated by that sort of thing."

"He still is." He now chokes on his drink. Does this mean they wouldn't have crossed paths as kids?

"Nah, she'd have bullied me then as well." They both laugh. So she hasn't mellowed at all in the intervening years?

"I would say I have, yeah… you do as you get older." Henry's eyebrows hit the ceiling.

"Oh right, so I just hallucinated that night at the Bafta’s then?" She clears her throat and takes a large swig from the can. Is this why she doesn't typically attend red carpets with him?

"Ugh, I'd rather shit in my hands and clap--"

"That and the fact you're a fucking liability!" She shrugs as he explains. "A few years ago, I made the mistake of dragging her along to the after-party--"

"Well, that explains why I didn't fucking remember. Why did I have to come? You didn't win anything you were just presenting--"

"Oh fuck off! I even promised to take her on holiday for a couple of weeks if she at least tried to behave herself--"

"'Cos that's a good incentive--"

"And Jesus Christ, never again. If I wasn't blackballed in this industry before, I was that fucking night--"

"No, it's 'cos you won't take acting lessons." Henry smirks and tries to cover her mouth this time.

"At least I didn't go up to a circle containing Judi Dench, Helen Mirren--"

"Look at him dropping names! And it's Dame Judi…"

"And last but not least, the Meryl Streep--"

"You know, of Mama Mia…" A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

“Only to ask them where their cauldron was!"

"But that's the great thing about being a nobody, you can say whatever want--"

"You're not a nobody--"

"No, I'm your plus one…" They howl with laughter. "The best thing is to underdress slightly as well so they think you're staff, the reactions are even better." And what was the response? "None of them heard me." He snorts.

"Judi just burst out laughing--"

"Judi! Like they're friends! Yeah, well she saw us arrive together so I think she was onto me."

"Luckily she's got a robust sense of humour…"

"Not like that other one. Oh, what's his name? You know… the one that says he'd rather be making shoes?" Sir Daniel Day-Lewis?

"Yeah, she asked him if he wanted her to go look for his top hat." I can feel my own jaw drop.

"That's how he reacted! Oh God, I'd give my left tit to relive it…" I ask where Henry is when these interactions go down. "Usually trying to find the nearest exit--"

"Is it any wonder!"

"But we were only there twenty minutes--"

"And he wasn't even the first Daniel you managed to piss off!" And who was that?

"Dan Snow." The broadcaster? Henry glances heavenward, exasperated.

"No, Jon Snow - and she means Kit Harrington. She got talking to him and somehow things managed to go south even quicker than usual." I can see how referring to him instead as the 50-year-old historian might have that effect. "No, it wasn't that, it was when he asked whether she was enjoying Game of Thrones--"

"Which is presumptuous isn't it?" For once even I'm at a loss for words.

"And so she asked him if that's the show with dragons and when he said 'yes,'" he starts cracking up, "she went 'then, no.'" I don't think I've ever seen a man look so crestfallen - not even when you accosted Sam." Mr. Rockwell? I'm assuming that took place while Henry was still on the Argylle press tour?

"Oh yeah that was a gas, I waited until we were a bit better acquainted--"

"So the poor sod had his guard down--"

"And on the last day, I asked if he'd sign a picture for me. I think he assumed it was for a friend or something so he wasn't expecting me to thank him for gifting Henry his picture to put above the toilet--"

"What's worse is that it was that still from The Green Mile, you know? Literally, the first one that pops up on Google!" This anecdote puts me in mind of a similar story I heard on the grapevine during the first season of Netflix's The Witcher. Against my better judgment, I ask him if knows what I'm talking about and immediately his eyes flash in recognition.

"Yeah, and it pains me to say that's also true."

"What is?"

"Your stunt at the Witcher premiere…" For a moment she looks genuinely confused. "Don't pretend you can't remember!"

"Remember what? I wasn't even there!"

"And even that didn't spare me!"

"Oh I can't fucking win Mark, all I did was try and bring a smile to his face 'cos I knew he was sad about me having to work that night--"

"So naturally you had an 8x10 still printed of me with Orlando Bloom's head (as Legolas), photoshopped on top? Which, by the way, you could have just messaged me. But what did you do instead? You made dozens of copies and had my bodyguard hand them out to fans for me to sign." She waits for a beat.

"But how long did it take for you to notice?" Gentle reader, when I tell you this is one of only a handful of occasions I've ever laughed so hard in an interview, it's because I want you to know how rare that's actually been over a 35-year career in entertainment journalism. Still, I imagine that if she was brazen enough to taunt some of Hollywood's most influential stars, far worse shots have since been fired.

"Oh yeah, why don't you tell Mark how you recently mouthed off to Aaron Taylor Johnson?" Even she begins to look sheepish.

"Yeah, but I was only trying to make conversation." Henry's head falls into his hand. She snickers. What on earth happened? "Honestly, nothing. I just said I hoped he really was being considered for Bond ‘cos he looks great in a suit." I hardly know how to respond. "Now that I think about it, he probably just thought I got you two mixed up--"

"Stop it right now!"

"What? You bought me in on this interview!" This of course is true and seems to serve a more serious purpose the longer our conversation continues. That he adores her is plain - his eyes never leave her. But it's the fact she can keep making him laugh, even under the scrutiny of being interviewed, that seems to make all the difference. Is that the key to the success of their relationship? "Well, that and the fact he's gone for six months out of any twelve--"

"So all the messages saying you miss me is just lip service?"

"Oh alright, it's cos he's got a huge… heart. Almost as big as his bank balance." Henry's legs are suddenly thrown in the air. At first, it seems he lost his balance, but judging from how quickly he then chases her from the room, I assume it was she who pulled the lever on his office chair that sent him hurtling to the floor.

A couple of days later, I received a brief email from her which apologised for them both having 'christened more than a couple of ships' that day and explained how she was grateful that even though she 'had a lot of baggage' before they met, Henry refused to give up on her. She signed off with the following; 'His biggest problem is his limited self-belief. But seriously, he's admired because, in a professional and personal life full of arseholes, he's still, as Virginia Woolf said of her husband right before she died by suicide, 'entirely patient and incredibly good'. I'll never be drunk enough to say that to his face so I've cc'd him in.' I double-checked and saw that she had indeed emailed him as well. It's an oddly moving, albeit characteristically funny postscript and one that underlines her devotion to him no matter what. We should all be so lucky.

The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare is on Amazon Prime Video.

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#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x reader

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magicalbuttertarts · 2 hours ago

Text

Damian Priest x f/Reader (18+) (AU)

WWE Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: unprotected sex. P in v sex. Anal sex. Cum oral (m & f receiving) use of dildo. Creampie. Marriage.

WC: 2335

Gifs & photos do not belong to me: 1st gif: @fireflyeditzz

©️magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Idea came because @floofysashimi shared the title photo.

"Okay, okay, that is enough practice for today." Our drummer & backup singer, Rhea called out as I sighed, hanging my head as I gripped my guitar a bit too tight for my liking.

"We still have a few hours left until we should call it quits." The electronic keyboard player, Dominik said as he wrapped his arms around our other backup singer, Liv's waist, pulling her against his side.

Our Bass player, Finn was only walking off with some groupies.

"We will be back here tomorrow for the music video." I called out, already regretting doing this music video.

I didn't want too, but our manger insisted that our band Judgement Day, should.

"You good Damian?" Rhea asked me as she walked up to me.

She is the only one who knows me better than I know myself.

People thought we were together, but we are actually just really good friends. Her husband is a good guy, and will randomly travel with us on the road.

"Just don't think those three give a fuck about this anymore. Finn is always late and wondering where his next lay will come from, and don't get me started on Dominik and Liv."

"Okay, calm down there big fella. Let's go out and have some fun. Maybe a few hours at the club will ease your stress." Rhea suggested.

"Buddy meeting us?" Knowing she only goes out when he is in town.

"Yeah, got us in the VIP section at XS Las Vegas."

"Fine. I'll go. Just to see what the fuss is about with it. I have heard about it."

The music was loud, the woman were all over me like usual, but I know what they are after. Just one night with me to brag to all of their friends about spending the night with Damian Priest, lead singer of Judgement Day.

Rhea and Buddy were all over one another, as were Dominik and Liv.

The four of them were making me almost nauseated, so I decided to leave tbe VIP section and head outside to grab some fresh air.

But as I did that, I walked right into someone, my arms wrapping around them to keep from falling.

Their hands are laying on my chest and I was about to ask if they were okay as I looked down and for once in my life, no words came to me as I looked down at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

I saw them mouth, "Are you okay?" And all I could do was nod my head yes.

I leaned down to whisper in their ear, "Can I buy you a drink?" They nodded their head yes, and the two of us walked back to the bar for me to replace the drink I spilled.

◆

I brought her back to the VIP section, and the only thing I caught was her name before we started to make out.

I pulled her into my lap, not caring for once if people were taking photos of me, as I wanted everyone to know that I have the most beautiful woman in my arms, kissing me as she grinded her body on top of me.

"Come back to my hotel room." I muttered against the kiss, making her whine my name before agreeing.

The two of us left my band members behind, her hand in mine as walked us out of the club and to the Uber that is waiting outside for us.

◆

I woke up the morning, with her gone, with only a few things to remind me of her.

Her lipstick stained against my skin.

The indents of where she dug her nails into my skin.

I licked my lips, groaning at the faint taste of her pussy still lingering on my lips, as I ate her out until she pushed me away, begging for me to fuck her.

Her gasps and moans echoing in mind as I started the shower.

I looked over my body, looking over all the little marks she left on me, and then my eyes were focused on my cock.

Her bouncing in my lap flashed before my eyes and I groaned at the thought of how tight her fucking pussy was. How it felt like it was trying to strangle my cock.

Then I noticed the red stain on my cock, remembering how she applied her lipstick once more just before she sucked me off.

Her eyes closed as she took me down her throat and then how her eyes teared up as I fucked her face until I came, groaning her name as I felt her swallow it all.

When I pulled back from her mouth, she smiled at me, opening her mouth to prove that it was all gone.

All I could do was moan as I picked her up to throw her on the bed, crawling between her thighs and fucking her into the mattress until her body wash shaking and my cum leaking out of her abused pussy.

The alarm on my phone brought me back down to earth, making me swear under my breath as I hopped into the shower, washing away our night together.

◆

"Places everyone. We will film just the band, and then the model will come after." The director called out from his seat.

"Not even the makeup crew could get rid of that hickey on your chest huh?" Rhea teased me as she walked past me.

"I see someone had a good time." Finn said next to me, lifting his sunglasses and wincing at the lights, before placing them back on.

"Okay, yes, I had a good time. Not let's get this done and over with." I said, loudly.

"You gonna see her again?" Liv asked me, as she stood next to Dominik.

"Most likely not. Only caught her first name."

"Once again, please people. Good good. Dim the lights. Good, good, action."

Time to get this day started.

◆

"Okay, bring out the girls." I gringed when the director called them that.

I could hear the sound of their heels and boots walking this way, and I was talking to Finn about what we are going to do next, when I heard the Director call for us to take our places once more.

I was assigned one model who would I would jump off the stage for and pretend to dance with as the music played around us.

"Damian, you see her, the one right in the middle, you were jump down and walk to her, okay."

I looked over at who he was pointing at, and I almost chocked on my spit.

It was her.

The woman from last night.

Her and I made eye contact, and her eyes got real wide as she saw me standing there, looking at her.

"She is gorgeous. Your manager picked good." The Director whistled, but stopped when he saw me turn my gaze to him.

He cleared his throat and told us to start.

I stood in my spot, watching her, to make sure she didn't disappear like she did this morning.

◆

The music was playing as I mouthed the words to the song I wrote.

It is time for me to jump off the stage and walk towards her, the other people fading into the background as the room went dark, except for her and I.

She pretended to walk away, but I pulled her back towards me, her hands landing on my chest just like yesterday when we met.

I placed my hand under her chin for her to look at me, as my other arm pulled her flush against my body.

Her perfume making me groan to myself before I kissed her, which wasn't in the script for the video, but the director kept rolling until the music faded away, the two of us still making out with everyone around us.

"I think we got it. All done for the day everyone. Good job."

People clapped around us, as I pulled my lips away from her, her eyes were half-closed as she looked up at me.

"Damian? We will meet up with you later." Rhea called out, pulling Dominik and Finn with her, with Liv most likely giggling.

"Come back with me again, or if you are hungry, we can go out to eat." I asked her once more.

"Damian, it was fun for one night, but it wouldn't work between us." She said.

"Why not?"

"You travel and I do as well. We wouldn't see eachother."

"Then come back for one last night together. I can't get you out of my head." I was honest with her.

"One more night, Damian."

◆

As I sat on our private plane, I looked out the window as I watched the video I recorded of us, the sounds of our love making going directly to my ears through my headphones.

"Just like that Damian. Fuck." She cried out as I rutted into her from behind, my cock buried in her pussy as I pushed her head into the mattress, her head turned towards the camera.

Her screaming out my name as she came, her pussy fluttering around my cock as she pulled an orgasm from my body.

I watched myself reach for my phone to zoom on her pussy, which was leaking my cum.

I watched another video of me between her spread thighs, her hand gripping my head as her other hand held the camera to record me eating her out.

Soft whines of my name I could hear as I ate her out, my eyes focused on her face, that I could not see on the camera.

Her body arched as she came, moaning loudly as ate her out and fingered her. I pulled my mouth away, and I could see my chin coated in her juices.

I licked my lips imaging the taste of her was still there.

Video after video played, and I had to go to the washroom to jerk off.

I watched my favourite video of all as I jerked myself off.

My phone was facing the bed as she rode me, her back arched and my hands on her hips as I helped her bounce in my lap.

As she came, she collapsed against my chest, her ass still bouncing in my lap as she used my cock to get off.

Then she got off of me and wrapped her lips around my cock just as I shouted out her name, my cum filling her mouth once more.

Her eyes were focused on my phone as she swallowed, kissing the tip as she moved her head away.

With grunt of her name, I came, not caring if anyone heard me. Wishing she was here, and not me jerking off on some private plane.

◆

I invited her to our concerts, and she showed up whe she could.

Her backstage, watching me the whole entire time.

Us going back to whatever hotel I am staying at.

Until I was able to convince her to go out on a date with me.

Which brought the paparazzi, which I should have known would happen.

It was all over the internet and even in magazines the next day.

'The Rockstar and The Model. Will it last?' Seemed to be main question, which had me fuming.

"Come on Damian, who cares what they think. Come back to bed or I will have to start with out you." She teased from the bed.

"You wouldn't dare." I put down my phone just as she flung back the blankets, and I could see she had a dildo in her hand.

But not just any dildo, but the one I had made just for her, the exact copy of my cock.

"Go on baby, fuck yourself with it."

My hand wrapped around my cock as I watched her insert it in her pussy, her whining my name.

"That's it baby. Keep it there and turn around, hands and knees. I want to stuff you full." She did exactly what I asked as I stood.

Grabbing the lube from my bag and quickly lathering my cock with it, her spreading her ass as I got closer.

I groaned at the sight as I have already fucked her there today.

I slid into her ass, inch by agonising inch until I bottomed out.

"How do you feel baby?" I asked her as I kissed her between her shoulder blades.

"Full. So full Damian."

"Good." Was all I said before I started to thrust in and out of her ass.

◆

Been four months of us dating and five months of us non-stop fucking.

We were once again in Vegas, and I was driving around with her next to me.

"You wanna get married?" I asked her, knowing she is the one for me.

"What? Right now?" She asked me, turning her body to look at me.

"Yeah, we pick a church and we get married."

"So romantic Damian." She teased. "But of course I will marry you."

We were married 45 minutes later, us driving off to the secluded cabin I rented, but I first had to pull off to the side of this empty, dirt road as I held her back of her head, as my hips thrust up into her mouth as she moaned around my cock.

"My wife is taking my cock so well down her throat. Like she was meant for me." I groaned as she was licking up and down my cock as I fucked her face.

My loud groan was her only warning as I came down her throat, the two of us moaning as she made qucik work to swallow.

I was breathing heavy as I let go of her hair and she sat up.

I smashed my mouth against hers, moaning at the fact that I can taste my cum on her lips.

"I love you my darling wife."

"I love you too, my sweet husband."

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @madhatterbri @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @tahiri-veyla @terrortwinunicorn

#wrestler x f/reader #wrestler x female reader #wwe fanfiction #wrestler smut #wwe smut #wwe imagine #wwe fiction #damian priest x y/n #Damian Priest x female reader #Damian Priest x f/Reader #Damian Priest x you #damian priest fanfic #damian priest smut #Damian Priest fic #damian priest #wwe damian priest

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saltsicklover · 1 year ago

Text

Part Five

You guys, thank you so much for all the love on this series! I see your comments and tags, and I just want you to know that I do! Thank you for interacting. I want to reply but I don't know how to do so without using my personal blog. Anyway, just know that I see you and I appreciate you! Happy Reading!

Title: Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3100+

Rating: R

Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Pining Hangman, Crying, Nat throwing herself from a moving vehicle, Sunny finding out about The Bet.

Second Chance Romance!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bob Floyd, or anything related to Top Gun Maverick within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

---

Hangman watches Sunny for a few moments, taking in the soft features of her face as she watches the point where the sunset meets the waves. He notices the numerous earrings that decorate the expanse of her ear, the jewelry glittering in the sunset. He traces the jewels with his eyes, fighting the urge to move the piece of hair that has fallen in front of her ear.

Hangman sighs, running a hand down his face, attempting to regain some composure. He continues to remind himself that this is not a date, Sunny is not here for him. Jake wonders if Phoenix would ever forgive him for making a move- the thought of thinking before acting on impulse almost new to Jake.

He gives her another moment to sit before breaking the silence- he tells himself it's for her, but really, he wants to sit there and look at her for just a moment longer. Jake doesn't know what it is, but he can't seem to take his eyes off of her, something resonating from her aura that just draws him in without her even trying.

He almost reaches over the bench seat to take her hand in his, just to feel the heat of her soft palm in his again, but he shoves the desire down, letting it sit deep in his stomach almost aching. So, he speaks, to keep himself from doing something stupid- something he can't take back.

"You ready to get the party started?" He smirks, fingers unbuckling his seatbelt. She follows suit, the seatbelt unclicking before retracting behind her right shoulder. Hangman slides out of his side of the truck before winding around the front and over to her door. He pulls it open and offers a hand to Sunny. She rolls her eyes, sliding out, then hitting his out turned hand on the back with her own, smacking it away.

"I was trying to be polite," Jake rolls his eyes, nothing but playful jest behind them, though he aches to feel her skin against his again, "My Mama would smack me if I was anything but polite to a lady while she gets out of a vehicle,"

"Looks like she raised you right," Sunny moves around him and down the bed of the truck. She grabs the side of the bed before planting one foot on the tire, pulling herself up into the bed with one swift motion. Hangman watches her with delight, taking note of the mismatched piercings that cover her other ear. "Too bad I was raised by my Uncle Remy, who taught me to never trust a man, "'cuz he's never met a man who wasn't playin' games","

"I never said that I wasn't playin'," Hangman watches as she roots around in her duffel. He takes in the way the tip of her tongue juts out from between her teeth, her eyes drifting to the side in concentration while she searches through the bag by touch alone. When she pulls her hand out, she grasps a magic marker and a handful of red "Hello My Name Is" stickers.

Jake quirks a brow, watching as she balances a nametag on her knee, marker cap held between her front teeth as she scribbles something across the tag. She quickly peels the tag from its backing before slapping it to her chest, smack on her left breast, her name and a small doodle of the sun adorn it. She moves to the next tag, the beginning of an 'H' being written before Jake speaks again.

"You do realize we wear our names on our uniforms, right?" Sunny's eyes drop Jake's chest, his last name printed in crisp white letters on the black plastic tag.

"Seresin, huh?" Her words are muffled a bit by the marker cap that's still placed between her teeth. Her hands move, eyes still locked on him. He beams with pride, smirk a little larger than before.

"Yes, Ma'am, that's me," Sunny caps the marker as she pushes herself to stand again, "That's why it's on my chest," He lets his finger trace the underside of the perfectly placed nameplate.

Sunny takes the chance to throw herself over the side of the pickup, landing loudly next to Hangman. He jumps back a bit at the suddenness of her movement and how she moved with such ease, eyes darting around her form, checking for any sign of distress. As quick as his eyes snap to her, a sticky nametag is pressed crookedly over the already pristine one on his chest. It reads "Hanged Man" in sloppy letters, a little doodle of a stick figure in the space next to it, the same kind of stick figure children use for the game Hangman. It's clever, really, but he glares down at it anyway.

"That's more correct, I think," She pats him again on the chest, right in the middle of his sturdy frame, a proud look on her face. There is a playfulness behind her eyes and it drives Hangman a bit more crazy. He hopes that she didn't feel the quickening of his heart under her palm.

She pulls her hand back as quickly as it was pressed against his chest. He almost reached out to grasp her wrist, to bring her hand back up to rest over his heart. Thankfully, he catches himself mid movement, instead, bringing his hand up to run through his hair.

Jake knows this woman will be the death of him, from the way she throws smirks around, to the red of her dress and down to the worn in cowboy boots. He's smitten, more than enough to put his best game forward for a chance at taking her home. He almost forgot she was there for Phoenix, almost, until a loud shriek pulls him out of his Sunny induced daydream.

He turns to see Phoenix practically throwing herself out of Rooster's Bronco, the vehicle still in the process of slowing down as she throws herself out of it. The nametags and marker are thrust into his hands as Sunny moves to round the bed of the truck.

The women move quickly, embracing each other with too much force. They would've ended up on the ground if Sunny hadn't braced herself for the impact of Natasha's body against her own. There is a mess of laughter and tears, the women pulling back to look each other in the face before pulling each other close again.

Hangman watches as tears spill down Natasha's face, her eyes scrunched together. This is the first time he has seen Natasha cry. It humanizes her. Her hard exterior breaking apart, glimpses of her true self now visible through the cracks.

The women rock back and fourth, spinning themselves around in a circle. Natasha is whispering to Sunny- Jake is too far away to make out the words. Then, his eyes catch Sunny's face, slick with tears but the look on her face is nothing but pure contentment. This is the first time Jake has ever seen a woman cry without pain marking the face. This repeats for a couple minutes, Hangman standing there next to the truck, watching women he barely knows, cling to each other like they might float away if they let go. Rooster's clapping Hangman on the back to signal his presence, pulling the Aviator from his thoughts.

"Let's go get some beers, give them a minute," Rooster speaks, motioning towards the door. Hangman nods an agreement and they move towards the front door, leaving the women to embrace in the parking lot.

"Oh my God, let me look at you," Phoenix cries, pushing Sunny back to peer into her eyes. They are full of tears, threatening to overflow as Phoenix's own dart around her face with her watery gaze before she is quickly pulling Sunny right back into her chest whispering 'oh, come here'.

"Nash, you are gonna kill me if you squeeze me any tighter!" Sunny almost has to claw Natasha further away from her body, but when they finally separate, Sunny brings her hands up to wipe tears from her best friend's cheeks.

Sunny lets her eyes dart around her friend's features, taking in the darkness of her eyes first. They are richer than the soil, with so much life within them, glittering gold in the sun. She brings a hand up to run her fingers over the slicked back hair on the side of Nat's head, right over her ear. Sunny traces the hair a few times, taking in the sharp corners of her brows, letting her eyes travel down to the sharpness of her jaw.

"You're beautiful, Nash, you know that, right?" Sunny compliments, giving her friend's shoulders a squeeze.

"Oh shut it," Nat laughs a bit, her cheeks tinted with a slight blush, "You are too,"

"Of course I am, what do you expect?" The women both stifle laughs, the joy continuing to bubble out of the pair.

"Come on, lets get some drinks and I'll introduce you to Rooster," Natasha grabs Sunny's hand firmly, lacing their fingers together and pulling her towards the door, "How was the ride down with Hangman? Did he behave himself?"

The women push into the bar and Sunny barely gets a chance to glace around before she is being pulled to the back of the large room, near an expansive set of windows with a perfect view of the sunset. Sunny lets her eyes catch the sunset for a brief second before turning back to Natasha.

"He was fine, kept his hands to himself. I can't say the same thing about his eyes, but a fine man like him can look at me anytime," Sunny laughs as Natasha's face crinkles up in disgust.

There is no awkwardness between the women. They behave like they have known each other for a lifetime, and in a way, they have known each other for some of the most important years of their lives. Sunny was there for every deployment and rank change and every course Natasha passed. Nat was there for Sunny when her first book got published, and then again for the next two. She has them on her book shelf, displayed proudly.

"Hangman, seriously?" She fake gags, grimacing.

"What? I said look, not touch," She nudges her friend's shoulder with her own, earning a half laugh from the other. "He's not my type, but it's nice to be noticed by a conventionally attractive man, okay! Even if he does look like some Mattel reject for the Ken Doll,"

"Who looks like a rejected Ken doll?" A voice breaks through the laughter. Sunny looks away from Natasha to see a sandy haired man, clad with a porn 'stache, looking too hot for his own good. He is looking up from the tabletop, magic marker in hand.

Sunny leans over to whisper in Natasha's ear, "Oh, my God, what is with all the hotties?" The comment makes Natasha turn a light shade of pink as she stifles a laugh behind her hand.

"Hanged Man does," Sunny replies simply, turning her attention back to the new man, earning a hearty snort from him in return.

"Oh, Darlin', you wound me," Hangman places a hand over his heart, feigning pain with a hearty grimace. All he earns is three distinct eye rolls from the group as he turns to walk towards the bar.

"I'm Bradley," The new man interrupts, holding a hand out towards Sunny, a wide smile on his face.

"Sunny," She shakes his hand, making sure to squeeze it tight. 'Folks remember good handshakes', the words play in her head.

"I gathered as much," Bradley sends a look to Nat, a small smirk on his lips, "This one hasn't stopped talking about you since she found out you were making your way to Fighter Town,"

"That's okay," Sunny smiles brightly, "I talk about her all the time too, I'm sure the guys at work are tired of hearing about her."

Natasha chuckles a bit, pulling Sunny in for another hug. Bradley puts his attention back to the tabletop where he is making his own nametag. The sight makes Sunny's smile a thousand watts brighter.

"I can't decide if I should draw a mustache or a dick on this," He speaks, gesturing down to the nametag, his cheeks sucked in in concentration. Sunny peeks over his shoulder, the nametag already reading "Rooster" in bold strokes. Nat looks too.

"Dick, definitely," The ladies respond at the same time.

"Oh my God, you better not do that all night," Hangman speaks, stealing the attention away from Rooster's new artistic endeavor. He holds four beers, two in glasses and two in cans, as well as a glass with dark liquid fizzing away inside.

"I can't make any promises," Natasha informs, taking the glass and a beer from Hangman. She hands Sunny the glass, her hands working before her brain, almost like they have done this exact thing a thousand times before. Probably because she is used to handing the glass to Bob.

"I didn't know if you drank, so I got you a beer, and a Coke," Hangman gestures to the glass, "It's a Pepsi, sorry, its San Diego, y'know?"

"Didn't you just say it was a Coke?" Sunny quirks an eyebrow, bringing the beverage up to her nose to give it a sniff. Definitely not a coke.

"Ignore, him," Bradley interjects, "He's from Texas so all Soda is a Coke to him, then they specify. It's stupid,"

"Well, I don't drink, so the thought was very sweet, thank you Jake," Sunny nods, raising the glass to him, "However, the 'Coke' first thing is dumb," and then she turns to Bradley, "And counterpoint, so is 'soda', where I'm from, we call it a 'pop'!"

"A pop?" The three Aviators speak in unison, sharing slightly bewildered looks with one another.

"The only other lunatic that calls a soda a 'pop' is Bob," Rooster reminds the group, his explanation complete with air quotes.

"Yeah!" Sunny is equally as bewildered at the thought, "Because the can makes a pop sound when you open it?" She explains it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The Aviators "ahh" in unison, but at very different pitches, Sunny isn't sure anyone believes her explanation. "I'm just glad it's a Pepsi, honestly,"

Hangman looks offended, his mouth slack, eyebrows down.

"Texas," Rooster and Phoenix chime, each shaking their head side to side, much like one would while disciplining a child.

"So, Nash," Sunny slings her arm over her best friends shoulders, bringing the cup to her own lips with the other hand, "Where is this famous Bob I am supposed to meet?"

"Oh! He offered to stay back and finish the maintenance on the jet so I could get out here and meet you! He should be here in an hour or so,"

"He better be, he's usually the D.D.," Rooster sends a wink Hangman's way before he is reprimanded by Natasha.

"Nope, don't even think about it, boys! He is our ride, remember? That was the deal, breakfast burritos in exchange for getting him off of D.D. duty this week,"

The boys whine about it, mentioning that the burritos better be worth it, and that's when Nat leans into Sunny's side, whispering that they just might have to make the boys breakfast burritos now. Sunny agrees with a roll of her eyes, pleased to be getting roped into the shenanigans right off the bat.

"Or maybe, you guys can use your portion of the bet winnings to buy some burritos for yourselves," Nat speaks, the idea popping into her mind. "I really don't want to cook for your asses more than I already do,"

"Bet?" Sunny inquires.

"Oh right, the bet, I almost forgot," Bradley speaks, a wide grin falling over his lips.

"I hadn't forgotten," Jake interjects, "I knew from the moment I saw her that we'd won,"

Sunny is even more confused now, looking at Natasha for some sort of clue.

"You didn't tell her?" Jake asks, a bit surprised. Phoenix just shakes her head, a blush coming to life on her cheeks and over the tips of her ears. She hasn't blushed this much in a long, long time, but the warmth that spreads over her features also warms her heart a bit.

"What did you do?" Sunny asks, grabbing her friends shoulder. The gesture is playful, but Sunny attempts to make a serious face. It cracks when the corner of her lip quirks up just a bit, alluding to the smile she is holding back.

"We- the squad- sort of bet on if youwouldbehotornot" The last few words come out all together, mumbled under Nat's breath. She tried her best to cover them up, but Sunny wears a stern expression that reads 'try again'.

"We took bets on if you would be hot or not, since we didn't know what you looked like," Natasha explains a bit sheepishly, feeling a bit ashamed about it now. "In my defense, it was Rooster's idea."

"And you won?" Sunny asks. The group nods. "Great, then what's my cut?"

"Your cut?" Jake's a bit taken aback, his eyebrows jumping to his hairline. A wide smile has broken his usual smirk, the joy he is feeling no longer tucked behind a well rehearsed exterior.

"Yeah, my cut. You bet on me, and you won, because I am hot as fuck, and I think I deserve my share because I delivered," Sunny's explanation is nonchalant as she sips on her Pepsi. The Daggers break out into fits of laughter, their eyes squeezing shut, each wearing a bright smile.

Sunny worries for a second as the Daggers stare at her, smiling. She worries she might have said the wrong thing, gone too far with a group who doesn't know her humor.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Natasha wraps her arm around Sunny, bringing her close yet again. The words comfort Sunny instantly.

"You like me for a lot of reasons," Her elbow meets the space between Nat's ribs, "Including the fact that I have continued to put up with your shenanigans for the last ten years. Remember when you were twenty-six and you met that couple outside the-"

Hangman and Rooster's eyes snap up to meet Sunny's, Natasha's hands coming up to conseal the words coming out of her friend's mouth. She is shaking her head violently, begging Sunny to quit talking, her eyes wide. Sunny tries to lean away from the hands on her face, a couple of words coming out unmuffled. 'Chevy' 'Cherry Flavored' and 'Inches' are the only words the boys could clearly make out, leaving them more confused than they began as Natasha's whole body flushed a deep raspberry, no doubt reliving the memory in her head.

Sunny sat there laughing, her hands around her friend's wrists, keeping her upright as she began to cackle, her whole body shaking with laughter. Everything feels right between the four, the laughter ringing out through the air.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd #bob floyd #best friend natasha trace #bob floyd angst

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softguarnere · 1 year ago

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Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 21: Datalesvi Anina

Summary: “Bill may be our smartest NCO, but he doesn’t know everything.” A/N: The moment we've all been waiting for: Bastogne (Chapter title translates to "they are sitting in holes") Warnings: improper binding, language, war Taglist: @latibvles @lady-cheeky @liebgotts-lovergirl @mrs-murder-daddy @ithinkabouttzu @mads-weasley @lieutenant-speirs

Belgium, 1944

After a few days, Zenie comes to the conclusion that if she keeps her eyes shut tight, lets her brain remain fuzzy with sleep, and leans into the warmth beside her, she can almost – almost – trick herself into thinking that she is a little girl again, back in North Carolina, curled up under her blankets on a frosty morning while she waits for the smell of Granny’s warm biscuits to draw her downstairs for breakfast. The shaking of the shattered earth, the groans and cries of men, and the heavy cold always shatter the illusion the second that she becomes a little more awake.

Holland’s water-filled foxholes felt like hell. Clearly none of them understood true hell until they walked into Bastogne. No wonder the men who were here before them were retreating so quickly.

There is no room for secrets in a place like this. Where would they put them? You can cling to them in your foxhole, but someone is there with you, and they’re bound to find out at some point, to see the real you, made up of everything you’ve tried to hide. At least in Holland they could get up and move around. Here, in Bastogne, they have to be ready to dive into a foxhole at any second.

They are only safe inside the earth. And that is where their secrets start to become known.

With the line stretched so thin, it’s hard to keep up with friends. Word travels fast, though, in the way that rumors always do. That’s how the rest of the company finds out that Shifty talks in his sleep, that Perconte has practically an entire drugstore in his bag, and that Liebgott and Toye both like to sing to pass the time.

Every day that they spend in this place makes Zenie feel like she’s holding onto her own secret for dear life. Her fingers ache from the effort. Her determination isn’t slipping, exactly, but her frustration is rising.

There is no aide station for Gene to take her back to whenever he insists she loosen or change her bandages. She tries to share a foxhole with him when she can. He’s so busy running around the line, though, that her other friends often fill his place, insisting that she shouldn’t be alone. They all learned in Holland that loneliness is no way to survive. Shifty is further up the line and gets sent on too many patrols for her to share a foxhole with him – the only other person she can trust with this secret of hers. That’s how she usually finds herself sitting beside Bill, or when he’s making his rounds, Babe and his old friend, John Julian.

Babe and Julian went through training together. Even though they go way back, she never feels excluded when she’s with them. They tell her stories of jump school shenanigans that make her feel like she’s part of the joke instead of watching two friends reminisce about the good old days.

“You know he’s a virgin?” It’s one of their first days in Bastogne. Julian hasn’t made it back from the pitiful excuse of a chow-line yet, and Babe’s question comes out of nowhere.

Zenie blinks. “Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence washes over them as they watch the line. As she stares ahead, Zenie can feel Babe very pointedly trying to not look at her from the corner of his eye.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Babe shrugs. “Just thought I’d let ya know that it’s okay, I guess. You ain’t the only one. Although I don’t know how you guys do it. I’d be afraid of dying without experiencing true heaven.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about me, Babe.” The confession slips out before she really grasps the weight of what she’s just said. Funny, realizing how much things have changed. She bites her bottom lip to keep from giggling at it all.

Her friend balks. “What?! When?”

Well, if she’s already confessed – albeit by accident – there’s no use in lying. “Paris.”

“Out on your pass?”

“Yep.”

“Unbelievable.” Babe shakes his head. “Bill said you were a virgin.”

Why would he need to tell Babe that? Unless, she freezes at the thought, he was telling his fellow Philadelphian about her embarrassment with the pin-up of Beckie.

“Bill may be our smartest NCO, but he doesn’t know everything.”

“He doesn’t know?” When Zenie shakes her head, a small cloud of steam escapes from Babe’s mouth as he huffs a warm laugh into the cold air. “Unbelievable,” he repeats.

Without him, Zenie thinks back to the hotel room in Paris – all the ways that she and Shifty caressed each other and the way that he smiled at her the next morning, beaming, like the sun glittering over the dew-crowned trees on a fresh spring morning.

Yes, she’s inclined to agree. Unbelievable.

Back in Holland the days bled together, each as miserable and wet as the last. At least there she could find apples anywhere she looked. Here, in Bastogne, she’s once again in a hole in the ground, surrounded by trees, but there is nothing to eat, and the endless precipitation is the snow that seems to fall without fail every night.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whack! Whoosh! Bill is brushing the fresh snow from the tarp they’ve been using to cover their foxhole at night. It doesn’t do much in terms of keeping heat in, but at least it keeps the snow off of them while they sleep.

Zenie’s joints pop as she stretches. It draws Bill’s attention, and he stops cleaning off the tarp.

“Mornin’.”

Zenie grunts in response. No “good” before the word. Simply a statement of fact: this is another morning that they have reached.

Bill folds the tarp back and sits back in the foxhole with a sigh. “Why don’t you go check and see if there’s any breakfast?” He suggests.

There won’t be. There hardly ever is. It just gives Zenie something to do other than walking from foxhole to foxhole, visiting with the other men in between the shellings that the Germans send their way. At least Bill has an actual excuse to walk around. Checking the line and checking up on the men might be what got him hurt back in Holland, but he still takes his duties as an NCO seriously.

It almost makes Zenie wish that she would get promoted. Then no one could say anything if she wandered a bit too far in the woods looking for third platoon – (looking for Shifty.) On their second day here, she got lost after trying to find somewhere to loosen her bandages. She stumbled across a frozen pile of German bodies, frost thick on their winter coats. After that, she decided not to stray too far from her foxhole anymore.

With a sigh, she pulls herself out of the hole, the crunch of snow greeting her when she stands and stretches.

“You want anything?”

Bill’s lips are pressed together as he stares at the line. After a moment he breaks his focus, nodding up at her. “If they’ve got it.”

They don’t. Not even the pitiful cup of water with two beans floating in it that they served at midday the day before. (Well, it felt like midday, at least. It could have been any time of day, and only the men with watches would be the wiser.)

She stops to greet Luz and a few other men on her way back. George has a few quips about their situation. Other people have a few choice words about the cold. They all laugh, and it sounds warm and out of place in this frozen land.

“Nothing?” Bill asks when she returns.

“Not a drop.”

He sighs, starts to stand. “Well then. Looks – “

Boom! The ground shakes under Zenie’s feet as the first explosion of the morning signals the start of the day.

“Incoming!” Someone’s voice announces. It sounds like Sergeant Lipton that yells, over the successive series of booming explosions that pierce the air, “Get in your foxholes!”

“Get in!” Bill demands.

The ground still shaking, Zenie lurches forward, trying to dive into the foxhole with her friend. Her feet hit the bottom of the pit and she’s starting to crouch down when she hears a whizzing noise nearby. The air shakes as the Germans fire at them. It feels so close that she freezes, like a deer that’s been stumbled upon in the woods. She feels Bill’s hand clench around her right shoulder and drag her the rest of the way down.

She lands so roughly that for a second, the pain in her side from landing on Bill distracts from the horrible slicing pain that races through her left arm. Foxholes are supposed to keep them safe, but once inside them, it feels like the whole world trembles endlessly. This time it knocks the breath out of her, making her gasp as white-hot electricity races through her arm. Her whole body feels hot – which seems incongruous, considering where they are – and despite all her wishes, she knows the truth: she’s been hit.

Summer heat takes hold of her body. She wished for warmth, and boy, has she got it now. Late July afternoons, full of humidity and sweat, have found her in this frozen place. No ice cream and running through the fields, though. This is the worst parts of summer – the Dog Days, with their high temperatures and mosquitos eating her legs. All that’s missing is the screaming of the cicadas. To prove its presence, a sheen of sweat overtakes her as a side effect of the heat.

The only reason she knows the shelling has stopped is that no more deafening explosions thunder through the sky above them. The world still shakes – except, it’s actually just her shaking. And the echoing in her ears is from the blood pumping through them, fast as a train.

“You alright, Tommy?” Bill asks.

Slowly, she pushes herself up. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut when the movement sends new jolts of pain through her left side. Maybe it’s not actually that bad. Maybe it’s like a bee sting in that it just feels bad, but it actually very small. She just needs a minute before she looks.

It’s a minute that she doesn’t get. Bill curses under his breath beside her. Something is wrong.

Warm blood leeks from gashes in her sleeve. Most of it is coming from her arm, in a steady trickle that begins at her shoulder. But thank God, she realizes, her arm is still attached to her body, like it should be. And, as an added bonus, when she chokes back the bile burning her throat and tries to inspect the damage, she can still move it, as well as her fingers.

“Medic!” Bill hollers.

The word drags her out of her temporary solace. She’s been hit and she needs a medic, to patch her up, to send her to an aide station. Those don’t exist here, though. And they’re running low on medics as well.

“No,” Zenie hisses, despite the pain in her arm. “Don’t!”

Bill’s eyes go wide as his brow furrows. “Are you crazy? You need a – Medic!”

What if Spina is the nearest medic? What if they have to remove her jacket in front of everyone?

“Bill, I’m fine. Stop!”

The Staff Sergeant doesn’t listen. In fact, he outright ignores her as he reaches into his pockets, muttering to himself. “I got some left-over sulfa power in here somewhere. Where the fuck – ? Aha! Tommy, hold still, will ya? Medic!”

He moves towards her then. There’s nowhere for her to go. It would be hard enough to drag herself out of the foxhole with one arm, and even harder when Bill looks like he’s ready to chase her down. She presses herself against the frozen earth behind her, trying to dodge her friend as he comes closer.

“Bill, stop!”

“Tommy, you gotta let me – “ Bill takes hold of her jacket and rips it open. Cold air hits her chest, although it doesn’t stop the heat that’s still coursing through her. A new wave of it rushes over her in both embarrassment and pain as Bill fights to remove her jacket from her shoulder. When it’s free he clenches the packet of sulfa powder between his teeth, ready to tear it open . . . He pauses, his eyes taking in the full extent of the scene before him. “What the fuck?”

Maybe it’s the way that Zenie manages to push him away and tug her jacket up to cover her bandaged chest that gives it away. Or maybe it’s the way her face burns with shame, how she can’t look her best friend in the eye. Besides, Bill is smart, and he knows that she’s never been hit. It doesn’t take him very long to figure out what the bandages are for.

“Oh Christ,” he whispers, his eyes still fixed on her bandages. They’re the size of saucers when he finally manages to move them to her face. “You’re a broad!”

A broad. Huh. So that’s what someone from South Philly would call a girl. Back on the ship that brought them to Europe, she had once wondered about it. She had wondered about the reactions of her friends, too, if they were to learn her secret.

Well, now she knows.

“Sorry,” Zenie whispers, because it’s the only thing she can think to say.

“Since when?!”

“Since birth.”

“Jesus, this whole time? And I never knew!?” His face pales. “Ah, Christ . . . I’ve told ya too much. Shit! I gave you that pin-up and everything!”

The crunch of snow announces a new presence behind them, coming in fast. “Who’s been hit?”

Eugene jumps down into the foxhole, landing so that Zenie is between him and Bill. His medic brain kicks in first as he reaches out to move her jacket so that he can inspect the damage. He freezes, his hands only just grazing her jacket when he glances over at Bill.

“Tommy got hit. I think mostly in the shoulder.”

Gene looks between Zenie and their sergeant. Reluctantly, she nods. He already knows; the damage is done.

She hisses in pain when Gene peels back her jacket to inspect her. He mutters something in French that’s as smooth and slow as molasses. An apology, maybe. How many of those will this foxhole hear? Despite all that’s happened, he’s a soothing presence. Now Zenie knows why he’s Easy’s preferred medic.

“Shrapnel,” Gene announces. “Peppered your arm. Missed the arteries, though. Nothin’ deep, except one cut that’ll need to be stitched up. Maybe get some little pieces removed. I can do it back in the town.”

“Got lucky, huh?” Bill asks. His voice is full of a tone that Zenie has never heard before. He sounds lighthearted and troubled all at once. “Missed your tits, thank God.” A grimace that might be an attempt at a smile appears behind the beard he’s started growing.

“She did,” Gene agrees. Gently, he helps her adjust her jacket, and then both he and Bill help her to her feet and out of the foxhole.

“He – I mean, is she gonna be okay, Doc?”

A pause.

“Yeah,” Gene replies. “Yeah, she should be.”

He escorts her away then, talking about catching the Jeep before it heads back into the town with Skinny Sisk, who’s been hit in the leg. Zenie casts a glance back over her shoulder at Bill, who stands in the foxhole, watching her go. Maybe for the last time, now that he knows her secret. His expression is inscrutable – so unlike him.

She’s come all this way. Starting in her bedroom, ending in Belgium. And now she’s being taken away from the line. Gene will patch her up . . . And then what? Damn!

Gene helps her up into the Jeep, keeps his fingers wrapped loosely on her good shoulder as they ride so that she doesn’t topple off their precarious perch on the back of it. The medic catches her eye and offers her a nod. She can only wonder what it means.

#screaming crying yelling #idk if this one's any good but I've been sitting on it for a while omg #shifty powers x original female character #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x ofc #band of brothers x oc #oc zenie mcglamery #like a girl (like a man)#my writing #bill guarnere

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hahahahahangst · 1 year ago

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10 Things I hate about you (Be The Young 29)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, SELF H*RM, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily Reed, born and raised in Portland, is preparing her admission papers for Stanford, medical school. Little does she know, her life is about to change forever.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

A/N: idk guys, call it the musical episode, it kind of is

MASTERLIST

10 things I hate about you

Sometimes I miss when we were in it

So I made a list so I never forget

All the things I hate about you

10, your selfish

“So, did the angels bring you back in time? Was it Castiel?” Asked Emily, hanging out in the back of the Impala, skimming through a book. They were traveling towards Missouri to help another hunter with a case.

“Yeah, I saw my parents and my grandparents.” Dean had just finished talking about how Castiel brought him back in time to explain to him what Azazel wanted from them. Of course Ramiel had not lost the chance of bringing Emily back as well.

“What did you see?” Asked Dean, not taking his eyes away from the road.

“You really want to know?” Emily scratched her nose.

“I’m actually kind of curious. Is dad involved?”

“Oh- trust me. He is.”

“So?”

Emily started telling her brothers how her whole story began. “Basically, my mom got pregnant with me out of revenge and spite.” She said. “She had a wonderful husband, caring, and they were perfectly normal. Her hunting life was behind her, for good. But there was just one problem.” Emily pretended to be the narrator of a movie and gestured in front of her mysteriously, leaning in between the front seats. “A problem that would change her life…“ She paused. “FOREVER!” She screamed and Dean and Sam smiled, clearly enjoying her scene. “That problem was… me, or better, the lack of me. She really wanted a child, but could not get pregnant.”

“Wait, how did she go from no kids to two kids?” Asked Sam, interrupting her imitation.

“Samuel, too much rush, you feel.” She suddenly switched to Yoda from Star Wars. “Shutting the fuck up, you must.” She cleared her voice and went back to talking suggestively. Sam seemed very amused. “I was saying… She could not get pregnant and so, desperate, she summoned a crossroad demon, expecting a normal deal. Ten years were more than enough for her to disappear and never be found again by him. Or at least, that’s what she thought.” She paused and looked at Sam and Dean, waiting for a sign of approval of her performance. Dean gestured to her to keep going. “HOWEVER!” She said, a little too loud for the size of the car. “The demon did not offer her ten years. He asked for her permission to come back to her house. He promised that nothing wrong was going to happen if she let him be. He did not specify how many times, and my mother didn’t ask.” She made another pause. “So, her wish was granted, but it was too late. When she came back home, she saw something nobody would ever want to see! Can you guess what it was?” She pointed to Dean, who shrugged. Sam, instead played her game and tried to guess: “Her husband was dead?”

“No.”

“Her husband was a shapeshifter?”

“No!”

“He was… a demon?”

“What?!” Laughed Emily.

“Ghost?”

“Absolutely not-” She tried to continue explaining but could not contain her laugh anymore. ”...no, no, she found him with another woman!” Emily finally explained.

“Ouch!” Finally Dean intervened. “That's not good.”

“Oh, and that's nothing.” Continued Emily. “My mother followed them for the rest of the night and found out he had a whole other family with this woman, who was, coincidentally, pregnant again. So all her work was in vain, as her marriage was destroyed.”

“So…“ Sam encouraged her to keep telling.

“So!” She snapped her fingers in front of him. “This is where John Winchester comes in. My mother was enraged, vengeful. So she went out for a drink. Or many. She met dad and my mother found out he was a hunter. They exchanged opinions and theories about a local case and kept seeing each other for a while. Apparently my mother had more experience than dad, who had just been hunting for a couple years. They liked each other, they slept together and-” Emily pointed at herself. “Nine months later I popped out of her.” She stopped suggestively gesturing in front of her face and went back to her normal voice. “When I was six months old Azazel came to turn me, and my mother let him be, as they had agreed, but when he came for Alex she had probably forgotten or thought she could fight him aaaand, that’s how I ended up here.”

“Did you really have to make it so dramatic?” Asked Dean.

9, you’re jaded

“Shut up, you loved it.” She smiled. Sam seemed pretty amused.

“What about the demon blood?” Asked Dean, curious. “I'm guessing you got your healthy dose?”

“Oh, I wish I could tell you it was just one dose. Son of bitch gave me a whole bottle. I don't think my mother ever knew something like that had happened.”

“Well, that explains a lot of things.” He sighed. “Including what he meant when he said you were in a control group.”

“I'm a demon guinea pig. Very fun experience.” She said, sarcastic.

Sam looked at her through the rearview mirror, but didn't say anything. Emily raised her eyebrows and he immediately looked away.

You alright? She asked Sam, telepathically.

Yeah- just figured out what Ruby meant when she said you could have helped

Yeah, about that, sorry I snitched

It's alright, it was probably for the best

They quickly smiled at each other and then Emily leaned back in the seat.

Can I say something else? Sam's voice reached Emily.

Of course.

In the last two years… didn't you and Dean figure out yet how to get along? Really?

We tried- did he not tell you about what happened while you were away?

He's been very secretive about it.

Emily quickly gazed at Dean. Figures.

What do you mean?

“You guys talking about me or something?” Dean's voice distracted Emily from her mental conversation with Sam.

“What makes you think that?” Asked Sam.

“Emily keeps moving her hands as if she was talking and you keep staring at me.”

Emily and Sam exchanged a quick gaze before the younger just gave out a deep sigh and confessed. “Did you not tell Sam about what happened after he died?” To those words, Dean peeled his eyes away from the street and looked back at Emily for a second. Then, his gaze went harder and he went back at staring an indefinite point in front of him.

8, the dumbest guy I dated

“Can we not talk about it?” He asked.

“Dean, we have to talk about it. It doesn't have to be now, but at one point we-”

“Who says that?” He interrupted. “Who says we have to talk about it?”

“I do!” Snapped Emily. “I don't even understand why you would hide it!”

7 talk a big name, ‘til you’re naked

“I don't exactly come out of that story looking good, you know.” He pointed at himself.

“Ah, sorry- didn't mean to destroy your reputation with your own brother!” She said, sarcastic.

“Sure, whatever you say.” He tried to dismiss her, but Emily had other plans

“Whatev-” She was about to go at him with bad words, but Sam started talking.

“Wait, Emily, wait.” He raised his hand to stop her. She rolled her eyes. “What could ever be so bad you don't want to tell me?”

Dean glared at Emily again. She sighed and leaned back in her seat. She quickly gestured at Sam that they would talk later and went back to looking out the window.

only 6 seconds and I had to fake it

But Sam deserved the truth. Emily knew she had to tell him.

Halfway to Missouri they stopped to rest and to eat. Sam and Emily went inside a supermarket to get some food while Dean drove away to get gas.

“You should try a salad for once. Who knows, maybe you’ll discover you like it.” Commented Sam, pointing to a pre-packaged salad similar to the one he was about to buy. Emily took it and read the label. “It actually doesn’t sound that bad.” She looked back at the sandwich she was still holding. She shrugged and put the sandwich back on the shelf and exchanged it for the salad. “You have a terrible influence on me.” She commented. Sam laughed.

“What should we get Dean?” He continued, skimming through the shelf.

“A whole bottle of ranch dressing? I’m sure he’d like it.”

“Let’s get him this.” He pulled out a turkey sandwich.

Dean was waiting for them outside the shop, impatient. They started eating while sitting on a bench. “What is that?” Dean pointed to Emily’s salad. “Since when do you eat rabbit food?”

“It’s good! Want some?” She offered him a fork full of vegetables with a smile. He refused with a disgusted grimace. “Your loss, dude.” She shrugged and turned to Sam: he was staring in front of him, lost in his thoughts.

“Hey, earth calling Sam!” Emily waved a hand in front of him. “Are you okay?” Sam seemed raised from his trance-like state.

“Yeah, sorry, just-” He paused a second to look at him and Emily, who gestured to him to keep talkin. “Nothing, it's all good.”

“Are you sure?”

Sam hesitated for a second before answering. “It’s just I noticed something and-”

“What is it, Sam?” Intervened Dean. From Sam’s gaze Emily knew that whatever he was about to say, they would not have liked it. “So, Emily, how come everytime you interact with Dean you feel a- like rush of adrenaline?”

“A what?” She scratched her nose, confused.

“I don’t know, at the beginning I just thought it was a coincidence, but it’s every single time you talk to each other.”

Emily glared over at Dean and exhaled. She didn't answer and kept eating.

“Guys, what-”

“Alright, Sam, I know where you’re trying to go and we are not going there.” Intervened Dean. “This is not the time to talk about what happened while you were dead, okay? Drop it.”

Emily kept staring in front of them, thinking that if she ignored them, eventually they had to stop fighting.

“Why?” Asked Sam. “What the hell must have happened to make it so hard to talk about?”

“Nothing, I- I just don't want to talk about it, okay?” Emily closed her eyes, quickly running our of patience.

“I'm your brother, there's nothing you can't talk to me about, you-”

“I know that, but I still don't want to-”

“SHUT UP!” Screamed Emily, covering her face with her hands. She combed her hair back. Both her brothers quickly closed their mouths. “This is not a decision you get to make alone!” She pointed to Dean. “There were two of us living in that mess and I say he has to know!”

“So what, so he can worry about me? About you? Come on, it's just gonna bring more problems!” He answered. Emily could feel words she was going to regret slowly taking place in the back of her brain, but she was not fast enough to stop herself.

“Is that what this is about?! You don't want Sam to know how messed up you are?” She stood up and placed her lunch on the bench.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you’re messed up!” She yelled. Dean stood up in front of her. “What are you gonna do, uh?! Are you going to punch me?” Emily looked at Dean and raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “It can't hurt more than it used to hurt when you were blacked out drunk, can it?” After looking at Emily for a second, clearly angry, Dean sighed, rolled his eyes and turned the opposite way. Emily glared at Sam, who seemed shocked. “Right, turn around. Keep running from your problems, see how they solve themselves.”

Dean sharply turned back facing Emily. “You're talking about running?” Seeing the situation was not defusing itself, Sam stood up as well.

5, you're toxic

“Don't you get started again with-” Emily tried to say, but Dean cut her short.

“You left when I needed you the most! So don't come here judging me about running from my problems!”

“I left? Really?!”

“Well, it wasn’t me who walked out of Bobby’s house on a random Tuesday morning!”

“On a random morning? What are you even talking about? I was forced to leave!”

“You didn’t even try to stay!”

“I tried for MONTHS! I was there for you even when you tried to push me away, I listened to you cry and I let you punch the shit out of me and-” He words were interrupted by a sob Emily had not seen coming. “I- I tried to understand you, okay? I tried to get behind the violence and the being drunk, but I could not be there anymore, it was- Dean it was fucking dangerous!” Emily tried to send away the tears who were about to erupt from her eyes. She sniffed.

4, can’t trust you

“And has it ever occurred to you that I needed someone too? That, for your fault, I had to deal with everything by myself?” Dean didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to tell me that I didn’t try!”

“You were not a saint either, you know? Or did you forget what happened after he died?” Dean pointed at Sam.

“Do you mean when I was about to kill myself because of you or when you were about to kill yourself by selling your soul?” She asked, bitter.

“You know what I'm talking about!”

“Yeah, sure, I'm sure just talking about it would have worked just fine, right? You were going to kill yourself, for god's sake!”

“You can't point all the faults on me!” Continued Dean. “Do you ever accept any responsibility?”

“I don't accept responsibility?” Scoffed Emily. “I spent months of my life thinking of you, you and only you, if you had eaten, if you were too drunk, how to stop you from drinking- What did you want me to do, spoon-feed you?”

3, you still got mommy issues

“I didn’t need you to play mom with me, I can take care of myself!”

“And it shows!” Emily said, sarcastic. “Of course! You always have it under control, don't you? Tell, me did you have it under control while you used me like a punch bag or-”

“Stop bringing it up!”

2 years of bullshit I can't undo

Emily took a deep breath, trying to recollect herself. She knew far too well that Dean and her trying to get out of a fight was almost impossible if none of them backed out.

“Alright, you know what…“ She exhaled, calmer. “You're right. As I said, there were two of us, it's not your fault, it's…“ She glared at Sam, who was standing in the middle of the siblings. “We screwed up. We both did. But you can't pretend it didn't happen.”

1, I hate the fact you made me love you.

#be the young #supernatural fanfiction #spn ff #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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jungkook97 · 2 years ago

Text

decision to leave;; jjk

pairing: canon/idol!jungkook x hollywood socialite!female reader

word count: 5.8k

rating: 🔞 / mature audiences only

genre/tropes: angst, lots of pining, missed connections, forbidden love (they're literally fated to NOT end up together), emotional reunion, jungkook is selfish and a bit ✨ toxic ✨ (v cynical towards being a star)

trigger warnings: allusions to emotional trauma and explicit details of mental health issues, smoking, controlling entities in the form of the press, public opinion and hybe, hints of homophobia and blatant sexism, light allusions to sex

synopsis: being an idol is never easy. they work endlessly, and "fans", the media, and the company follow and critique their every movement. they're not strong enough, one could feel very trapped and suffocated.

jungkook was used to all of this.

what he wasn't used to was finding the right person at the wrong time.

notes: this has been in my consciousness for quite some time!! i always wondered if these men ever had moments where they found someone they could see a future with, but due to their current lives, they cannot be with them. maybe it's in fear of the company's reaction or rather, the world's approval.

this is set in the future where bts are even bigger than they are now, and their wealth is excessive. it explores jungkook's potential struggles with fame from the perspective of a guy who was 15 aka a kid when he debuted.

taglist: @bighitfics, @babymochipj, @minienglishofficial, @starscloser, @nathanscottscaptaina

spotify playlist

There she was.

"Jungkook."

He stiffened up at the sound of her voice, the carefully beaded ivory organza train glided through the plush deep red carpet. Instinctively, his hands extended forward to ensure her dress was intact despite his mind screaming at him not to.

If her dress gets utterly destroyed, maybe I could stop this wedding from happening.

Jungkook knew he was being selfish. He felt bad for being incredibly and stupidly selfish at these thoughts. It ruminated in his mind for months on end, ever since the first appearance on his private Instagram feed of her gleaming on his phone screen with her hand decorated with the most intricate engagement ring he'd ever seen. Her fiancée, the soon-to-be husband in a few hours' time, is a Grammy-winning producer and knew exactly her taste.

That was supposed to be my ring. I'm supposed to marry you.

Like usual, the loud, combating voices in his head lowered to an inaudible whisper as she extended her arms for a hug, now formally a tight squeeze around his shoulders, something that felt so foreign to him. His arms went for her waist, but his brain corrected itself to somewhere around the top of her back.

They weren't like that anymore.

We're not like that anymore.

"I'm so glad you could make it," he could hear her say. It was genuine, innocuous. As if they were simply friends, colleagues at best. As if...they didn't really know each other.

She let him go prematurely he felt, looking into his eyes with a sparkle that he had yet to find again.

His heart ached even more as he cleared his throat to prevent from getting even more overwhelmed. How could this happen to him like this? What exactly did he do in his previous life that led to experiencing Taeyang's "Wedding Dress" in this reality? Is it really that evil and that cruel to allow him to have so much fame and success at the expense of happiness in his romantic life?

Jungkook never asked for too much. At times, he felt like he was asking too little. Open communication, good sex, growing together. Hell, he looked past all of his exes and situation-somethings' body image, self-esteem, generational and familial trauma, etc. The list was never-ending, but he endured because, after all, these people chose to be with him despite being Jungkook of BTS.

That title. He learned to tolerate it, but at this very moment, the resentment was impalpable. As much as he loved ARMY and how much they gave him and the other members space for them to grow and be with other people, he felt trapped in his situation the other 80% of the time. If it wasn't a scolding about his tattooed arm, it was him drinking awfully too much for their liking, attending too many club events, or just breathing the wrong way.

Dating was near impossible as his so-called "fans" bombarded anybody he was interested in with death threats in every communication channel on the planet, scaring off potentially serious prospects. Jungkook couldn't be very casual if he wanted, because for some reason, being "too" sexually active go against the company's carefully crafted image of him as the youngest. It wasn't that they prevented him from fucking around (they organize secret parties and one-on-one gatherings for him to "have fun"), but how could he effectively be intimate with anybody if the company texted an NDA right after, or checking on them periodically to make sure they weren't pregnant. After all, as the company would say, you could never fully trust a woman's intentions.

It felt so transactional. Why did it have to be that way, Jungkook would ask. The company would simply reply, To protect you and your interests.

Yeah, my interests. My interest in getting married and having children would disrupt the flow of income for all of you and your shareholders.

It seemed time passed long enough to where there was an awkward silence between the two and so, Jungkook spoke.

"You seriously think I wouldn't be here?" he scoffed, making an effort to smile, even if it was one of those smiles for show. "This is the biggest day for you! You also rented me for 3 minutes," he joked as he chuckled lightly. Her fiancée had asked him to sing during their first dance.

"Stop," she laughed, slapping him playfully on his chest. His stomach turned at the sudden touch, biting his bottom lip. She caught on immediately, her eyes looking down toward the floor.

Fuck, I fucked up.

"You know, you don't have to do it," she whispered, her perfectly manicured fingers fiddling with her veil. It was gorgeous, but that was unsurprising. She always looked radiant in everything that she wore, an effortless well-dressed woman, Jungkook's type.

"Ah...no..." he stepped a bit closer, closing the gap. Unconsciously, he lifted her chin up with his fingers. "I want to...."

She pursed her lips at his sudden intimacy, her body tensing up. Jungkook noticed immediately, but he didn't care. He was being selfish. He knew what he was doing, making his eyes purposefully more doe-like just to mess with her emotions. He knew from the past few weddings he attended for his members that brides are highly emotional on their wedding day and have the highest chance of cold feet. All he needed was for her to get a serious case of it.

If you're gonna be selfish, just fucking say it. Say you don't want this for her.

"Jungkook..." she said softly as his finger rubbed at the base of her chin oh-so-slightly, innocuous really.

Just kiss her. Go all the way.

Before Jungkook could fully lean into his toxic boundary-breaking tendencies, his beloved pushed his fingers away. Shocked, they fell back on his side. She looked up, her eyes starting to well up in tears.

"Jimin was right. You really are trying to ruin this wedding."

Fuck.

"No," Jungkook pathetically denied, his breath hitched and body tensing up. "That's not what I'm fucking doing." That's exactly what I was fucking doing.

She was walking away at this point, a reversal he semi-knew was coming. He didn't bother to chase after her because what else could he do? He knew he was wrong, and it wasn't like he could fix her makeup, something he knew took forever to do.

She stopped in the middle of the room to turn around, taking a big inhale. Jungkook's eyes couldn't meet hers at that point, afraid to see the pure anger in her eyes. He could sense how much she hated him, how much she wished he changed a bit since they last spoke, since they last were anything but this.

"I'm going to let you stay and still sing, but I swear to God if you do anything else..." she paused, sniffling. "We're never going to see each other again, and there will be no way of me forgiving you."

How important was she to Jungkook? Nobody really knew, and Jungkook genuinely didn’t either. He wasn’t the type to articulate such deep feelings until well after, his mind always lingering in the past. It haunted him surely, as almost-relationships would happen on a semi-regular occurrence, pissing him off greatly.

What was his deal, he thought. If his other members could find someone so easily, why couldn’t he? He felt the odd one out, being that member who was always chronically single. It wasn’t that he was trying (he very much was), but nothing ever seemed to work out. It was either he was bored or they couldn’t take it anymore.

In some ways, Jungkook felt like he was a member of the British royal family, something that originally felt like a gag from a Twitter meme, but it couldn’t feel any more real to him. The public began questioning what was wrong with him, speculating that he was too much to handle (somewhat true) or gay (not entirely opposed to the idea).

With all of these thoughts circling around in his brain, he wasn’t entirely paying attention the entire night. Surely, one would think winning a Grammy would snap someone out of their insecurities, but the win was a guarantee according to his staff, with the U.S. PR team relentlessly running “For Your Consideration” campaigns for months on end. Jungkook didn’t care much about the logistics of it: after all, he’s merely a musician like the rest of the group.

And so, Jungkook found himself in the corner somewhere with an unspecified drink in his hand at an intimate afterparty with the members. The company wasn’t privy to send them to the official one as it would cause some controversy with the amount of press there. None of the members cared: they were quite against what goes on with these Hollywood parties. They were, after all, Korean men.

One would think that the members would recognize everybody in the room at these private parties, but not every time. She was there, a friend of that Grammy-winning producer (he helped produce their single). Jungkook barely noticed her before they stood next to each other at the latter half of the night, people watching their colleagues.

She was wearing a mid-length gold laced gown, probably designer, hair did just enough to be formal, but still relaxed. He could smell a hint of her perfume, a dark sweet scent like toasted marshmallows, probably Rihanna’s favorite perfume (he, the perfume enthusiast, was a die-hard fan of Kilian).

Eventually, she broke the ice and to Jungkook’s surprise, they spoke the same language. His tense muscles finally relaxed at the sound of her Korean with a slight American accent. Jungkook always felt anxious whenever BTS were abroad because, well, he never learned any other languages, much to Namjoon’s dismay. The constant nagging would get him highly strung, burdened by how complex the language was.

Soon, they found themselves laughing with each other, finding some things in common. Her dad was from Busan so she was used to his Busan male energy, the countryside bad boy image that everyone knew pretty well. Jungkook suddenly felt two times bigger, subconsciously widening his broad shoulders and flexing his muscles.

If there was anything Jungkook felt quite confident about, it was how incredibly good looking and extremely fit he was. He took great pride in it, and frankly, it never failed to bag anybody he wanted. And he knew, he wanted her.

Soon, the giggles and chuckles became physical touch, innocuous at first. Then, it became suggestive and sensual as his hands found her hips as he urged her to dance along with whatever R&B song was playing. They got very cozy, their eyes locked and bodies intertwined. It was a safe space: the company vetted through everyone with NDAs and several warnings prior.

It wasn’t long before he asked her:

“Do you want to get away with me for a bit?”

She felt good. Real good.

She felt safe. Very safe.

He nearly forgot what he was thinking about all night, all week, really. Their Grammy win came a week after Namjoon announced to the entire world he was engaged, writing the longest letter known to man on Weverse to profess his love for his partner of four years. The fans took it incredibly well, after all, they had four other proposals before to get used to it.

Yes, that was right: he wasn’t the only one. Hoseok was just as single as he was, but his older close friend had come out a couple of years ago. It was met with a bombardment of love and support from everybody, a step forward for LGBTQIA+ people back home. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the room when they all came together a month prior as Hoseok pitched the idea to the company for this public announcement because he felt strongly to “speak his truth”.

Speaking the truth was all Jungkook ever wanted to do. In fact, he has gotten in trouble several times for being too honest, like making a witty, snide comment about the company’s easy acceptance of Hoseok's decision. His manager pulled him aside after all the male executives begrudgingly hugged Hoseok in support.

Jungkook hated it. They spent years trying to prevent him from coming out and it ended with his hyung losing his long-term partner as a result, a pain point that was remedied in their eyes by making it easier for Jimin to come out six months later.

Hoseok may be single now, but he was never chronically single for that long. Jungkook, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky.

And so, he found himself lost in his thoughts again as she was finishing washing herself up in his bathroom. Fiddling with her gown left on top of the bed, he sat up, exhaling deeply.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, emerging from the bathroom. She had enwrapped herself in the other pair of robes that he didn’t use already.

At this point, they had spent a few hours talking about their lives. It turned out they had even more things in common. Although she was never a child star, her close friend was one, a Disney Channel one, to be specific. This fascinated Jungkook: Namjoon always pointed out the similarities between BTS and them whenever he got too meta after several rounds of whiskey, with Yoongi nodding in complete agreement before asking to clack their glasses together to cheer for that.

What was there to cheer for, Jungkook wondered. If he remembered anything from those conversations, these stars end up being so fucked up. He, along with the members, were lucky to have a good head on their shoulders, avoiding unfavorable and distasteful situations.

She understood this lifestyle, allowing Jungkook to rant endlessly about it. Just when he thought he couldn't articulate as well as his meta-filled hyungs, he went on for an hour about it. At that point, he was no longer being that press-friendly and cute maknae Jeon Jungkook, but a late twenty-something with a degree in broadcast media and over a decade and a half of experience in the industry. He felt old just thinking about it, which strangely comforted him.

For once, he felt older and wiser. No longer was his young age being seen as a gauge of nearly-impossible success being possible. Perfection, as Jungkook saw it.

Man, she’s so good.

“I don’t know, just thinking about Namjoon-hyung,” he exhaled through his nose, his head leaning back against the plush headboard. “He’s gonna get married soon and have kids. I know this because he told me last week he started looking into names.”

She laughed softly, sitting down on the bed lightly. The smell of the hotel soap smelled so intoxicating on her. There was a continued sweetness, a warmth that felt familiar and comforting to him.

“He’s just excited, Jungkook-ah. It’s his first.”

Jungkook sighed.

“I know, but…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. He was baring his whole soul to this woman he barely met, an impulsive and rather stupid decision to make. Jungkook always had the problem of saying way too much after the first fuck. “What if…what if I don’t want him to have a kid yet?”

She frowned. Didn’t seem very pleased about that.

“And why do you feel that way?”

A question Jungkook’s therapist always asks him. Surely, it was a question that popped up quite often in his ramblings to them too. He had been going to see them for two years at this point at the request of the company.

“It’s for you and your health.”

Code: your depression and unearthed trauma is getting too annoying for us to deal with, so here’s a mental health professional.

Maybe I don’t like seeing people getting their life together because I’m not put together. Like, Namjoon has everything: brains, body, a lifetime term partner, rich, famous, etc. The list never ends. Although I respect him as an older brother, I could never be him, not even a little bit. I lack so much compared to him, and how dare he be happy before I am?

“I don’t know.”

LA had become their official second home. The company had decided to buy a home somewhere secluded enough for them to spend long periods of time in the U.S., a city that Jungkook barely remembered the name of. One would think he’d remember more of his new home’s backyard, but it wasn’t his hometown no matter how long and how often he stayed there. The home was also bought for their own good, because as the company’s therapist pointed out, prolonged time in exclusively hotel rooms can deteriorate an artist’s mental health.

As the members returned back to their new home, Jungkook invited her to come along. They had a few weeks to decompress, a well-deserved rest. It was BTS’ Balmoral Castle, a large piece of property along the ocean line with a personal private beach. The company paid top dollar for it, and to the press to prevent them from sneaking into the property for some juicy photos.

Jungkook loved it at first sight, not for its grandiosity or the sheer wealth the company continued to flex, but for the scenic violet, reddish-pink sunsets it provided. It reminded him of Busan, except this was where the 1% lived and not his local neighbors who, at a time long ago, just knew him as Jeon Jungkook from Busan.

The members slowly vacated the property to leave the two alone, mostly taking trips up the coast with their significant others (except for Jimin, Jimin’s partner, and Hoseok, who were heading over to Palm Springs for some R&R with a rich white gay couple they met last week). Taehyung had planned a whole horseback riding adventure with his fiancée, Seokjin and Yoongi, and their wives heading to a winery in Napa Valley, and Namjoon and his newly engaged beau to look and stay at some ancient castle (Jungkook couldn’t recall, but Lady Gaga raved about how incredibly gorgeous it was).

And so, the two spent the entire time together. In between spontaneous fucking and strolls down the beach and plazas, it was quite literally the Balmoral test, an infamous initiation ritual that the Royal Family had for those who wanted to be in The Inner Circle.

Well, in a few weeks’ time, she was in Jungkook’s.

Jungkook could feel his teeth grinding loudly in his ears, pounding at the same beat of his ever-growing headache. He hated it, all of it.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, he could stomach it once he got a few drinks in, but he was terribly wrong. The youngest was jealous as fuck, and he did not make any efforts to hide it.

His hands were balled in fists as she and her newly married man made it toward the dance floor, waltzing and laughing in each other's arms. She looked stunning in her ivory mermaid wedding dress, her veil entangled around her sleek frame and her new man.

That should've been me, he thought. I'm supposed to be that happy.

Jungkook heard a sigh from his left, a warm tinier hand extending out to caress his.

"Jungkook-ah, you need to let it go," Jimin leaned in to whisper. He had been checking on the kid all night, or rather, all year.

He wasn't the only one, of course, Namjoon was excessively checking on him almost every night. It was annoying of course, despite the fact that Jungkook deep down appreciated it. Even if they're not as close as they used to be, the team was his found brothers, a family away from family.

However, if there was anybody who kept Jungkook in check, it was Park Jimin out of the members, as his tender voice seemed to get to him somehow. As Hoseok once quipped,

"Jungkook never listens, but he sure is handsome."

Let it go...how could he let it go? Jungkook spent the past couple of years trying to forget her, only for her to not only find someone new, it was someone who he knew.

It was natural, as Yoongi would say. They had been friends for quite some time and their Grammy hit was a love letter to her. Jungkook and him wrote it together, unaware that they both had feelings for her.

Surely, it had to be because of money, he thought. Producers will always get royalties no matter what it is, and the guy was on his way to being inducted into some hall of fame for it. Meanwhile, boy band members like him had an expiration, aging like milk depending on how problematic or fast you aged, whichever came first.

Although Jungkook was fortunate enough to be well-loved, the newer generation was becoming the new "It Boys", something that Jungkook had relished in for quite some time. It was his Leo Moon after all that loved the spotlight, whether he liked to admit it or not.

Perhaps it was the loneliness he felt when he was younger that got him to crave the spotlight, the years he spent being alone in Seoul while his parents were back at home, praying every night that he'd do well, but couldn't reach him due to differing schedules. As the phone rang too long to voicemail on very late nights trying to call his mother, Jungkook felt almost abandoned, unsure if this path was meant for him. Of course, he didn't give up as he became the center of the biggest boy band in the 21st century, but that loneliness was never filled. Just his arm filled with ink and his stomach filled with alcohol.

Talk about mommy issues.

Soon enough, Jungkook was snapped out of his daze and pulled up on stage. Of course, the song that his "friend"/newly married groom requested him to sing would be one of Jungkook's favorite songs too, and would describe how he felt about her, but whatever. This isn't his night.

As the predominantly white crowd of industry folks and company people cheered on, he began singing:

"It's like you got superpowers Turned my minutes into hours You got more than 20-20, babe Made of glass the way you see through me"

All Jungkook could do was close his eyes to get through it, trying his best to restrain himself from breaking down. Maybe it'll sound more beautiful if he channeled it the right way.

Wherever that is.

"You're so fucking selfish."

Maybe I am.

"I'm not," Jungkook lied.

Her eyes glittered with tears at this moment as she sniffled, wiping up her nose hastily as she shook her head in disbelief. He knew he fucked up at that point, standing there silently hoping that this wasn't it.

At this point, they had been "seeing each other" for two and a half years, but even that is questionable. It was too much chemistry to be just a fling, but too surface-level to be dating, but Jungkook didn't know how else to describe it. Jungkook hated situationships with his entire being, and he swore to her that it wasn't gonna be that (it ended up being so).

And so, they fought regularly, sometimes more eruptive than other times. This time, it was a lack of physical touch, something Jungkook desperately needed at this point. He was trying to curb the habit of mysteriously disappearing to America just to see her every other month in 3 week spurts when the “coincidental meetups” during the tour wasn’t enoug. At this point, the company warned that TMZ was on him. Unlike Dispatch, TMZ wasn't keen on getting paid off to not leak some photos of their rendezvous.

This time, Jungkook gathered all of his courage to ask her to get hired by their company in some unspecified position. It was how the company could protect her, and they would see each other often, or that is, that’s what he thought it was. She had been resistant to the idea, mainly because it sounded like a very roundabout way to appoint her as Jungkook’s main escort.

“I’m not your fucking whore,” she emphasized again, sitting down on the white leather couch, setting her wine glass on the glass table and crossing her legs. “That’s literally what HYBE was going to hire me for.”

“You’re not gonna be that,” Jungkook reassured, unsure of the position himself.

The company could’ve put her somewhere in the executive positions with her Masters in Business from USC. She was, after all, a nepotism baby, a stark contrast to Jungkook’s humble beginnings. Her father owned a chain of Korean pubs in Los Angeles, and the company had planned to expand their reach out to the food service industry (using BTS as their main driving force, as usual).

But, like clockwork, the company didn’t see her as a strong fit compared to her older brother. An odd choice he felt, considering that the guy was a loose cannon, spending the family’s money away with cocaine and prostitutes. He was, at some point, affiliated with Seungri’s people before the guy’s imprisonment, which for some reason, the company glazed over.

Anyway, the details and the politics seemed rather hazy and confusing to Jungkook, but there was a compelling reason why the company wasn’t completely shutting their relationship down. After all, Jungkook was the Crown Prince of the company, the guy who you could find a well-positioned wife to inherit the throne.

Jungkook hated this. After all, he was as rebellious as Princess Diana and couldn’t be controlled that easily. This wasn’t like acquiring a whole country or keeping good relations. This was his life, and he was losing more and more of it as time went on.

“If that isn’t it, then what are we then?” she pressed once more, her lips pursed. “What the fuck are we if we’re not dating?”

There it was again. The question that Jungkook dreaded hearing.

It wasn’t because he didn’t want to give her that label. In fact, he very much wanted her to be his and maybe, just maybe, be serious about marrying. At this point, Seokjin, Namjoon and Yoongi were married. Even Jimin and Taehyung have long-term partners and on the fast pass track to getting married. He was losing out on time, as his goal was to have kids by the time he hit his early thirties, but it seemed like with every passing year, the chances of that happening were getting slimmer and slimmer. It also didn’t help that the company didn’t want him to confirm the relationship despite everyone and their moms know they were together.

It isn’t the time, Jungkook, they say. The fans would be really upset if you did.

But they didn’t for the others. Why was it just him?

It’s different. You’re…Jungkook.

Right. Like that makes any damn sense.

“Jungkook, answer me.”

He turned his head slightly at her to see her eyes stained with tears. At this point, she stood up to walk over toward him, bag in hand. It seemed like their already short meeting was coming to an end. The last thing Jungkook really needed was to fuck it up to the point this might be their last time seeing each other.

“I…” Jungkook trailed off as she rolled her eyes, his fingers fidgeting his own jean pockets. “I don’t know…I don’t know what we are. I don’t…” he laughed nervously, “I don’t even know who I am.”

Trauma dumping wasn’t what Jungkook had in the books for this conversation, but it was true. He felt like an empty vessel of a human being, but not in the same way as fans would fill him up with all the personalities of his members, but rather, unfulfilled, exhausted, done with everything.

What is there to do once you have accomplished everything? The other members seemed to have an answer for that, but Jungkook never did.

She was walking out at this point, exhaling sharply as her heels clicked against the tile floor. Jungkook was losing time, and it was the point of no return.

“Don’t leave.”

She stopped, letting out a small laugh. Turning around with the hand on the door knob, she delivered the last blow.

“We’re done, Jungkook.”

It was getting late. His cover of “pov” garnered a standing ovation lasting several minutes with tens of people with teary eyes. He captured the lyrics so well, they said.

Well, it’s not that hard to relate to the material and singing to the love of his life that he lost.

Jungkook found himself sitting by the end of the hill in the grassy field, his eyes watching the riverbed ahead. Her taste truly never failed: a destination wedding in the island of Sicily. He wanted to marry her in Jeju and if he wasn’t wrong, he mentioned it to her once.

He needed to take a breather, but more so, a cigarette. For the longest time, he was against tobacco after his dad reeked of it every waking moment of his life. But as he got older and more jaded, Jungkook found himself reaching for all the vices that were legal, smoking and drinking just enough to not cause concern. He was careful to be right under the radar. After all, all eyes are always on him.

The cool air was fogging up the vision in front of him as he exhaled, his hands slowly buried into his hands. Although he felt buzzed and danced through the night, it wasn’t enough to be angry about the wedding, about losing her…about everything, really.

Where did he go wrong? Did he make the wrong choice in choosing this life? Was he doomed to not be with anybody or have happiness? Or is it the reincarnation curse that he was fated to live a life so unhappy just like his supposed first life did, minus the tragic car crash?

Or maybe, just maybe, there was something else that he isn’t getting…something that has been in front of him all along…

“Need a cigarette?”

He looked up, his lips curving into a bittersweet smile.

“Hey,” he greeted her. She was wearing a shorter dress without a veil this time, a modern ivory hanbok to dance easier.

“Hey you,” she smiled warmly, kneeling down.

“Ey, you’re gonna ruin your dress!” Jungkook held his hand up in protest, but she continued to plop herself down next to him, laughing.

“You know I don’t really give a fuck about that,” she chuckled, putting her arms on her knees, mirroring him.

She really didn’t. If it was anything Jungkook knew, she was just as rebellious as he was, something that he loved the most about her. In fact, she said no to the merger between her father’s restaurant chain and the company, causing a major rift in priorities. It was also the time when the two broke up, which made it even more suspicious for the fans to think it was all a PR relationship.

It wasn’t. Not that it mattered anyway, the fans don’t know everything about him, regardless of what many wished to be.

“Here.”

She gingerly took out a cigarette from her dress pocket. Without hesitation, Jungkook took it, pulling out his own lighter and lighting it up. With one slow drag, the warmth of the tobacco hit his lungs, instantly calming him down.

Exhaling, his fingers fiddled around the wrapping paper, his head tilted back. There was a serene silence between the two, and for once, it wasn’t awkward like it was the other times with lingering glances during the engagement party and the wedding rehearsal.

“Thank you,” he said, although it felt like the thanks was more than just for the cigarette. He was thanking her for everything, the emotional support, the sex, the healing. Although their time was cut short, he felt like he knew himself a bit better now, progress in his eyes.

She nodded in acknowledgement, taking the cigarette to take a huff of her own. He dropped his hand down to touch hers. This time, she didn’t flinch.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make it work.”

Tears started welling up in his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he sniffled, trying his best to blink the tears away. “I mean…it wasn’t meant to be and it’s fine.”

He turned to her with a weak smile and to his surprise, a more distraught look on her face. His stomach lurched forward, butterflies filling up in his stomach. He knew it. She still loved him even after all this time, perhaps just as much as he did.

She leaned her hand on his shoulder as she gripped his hand tighter, the tobacco smoke engulfing the both of them. They took turns to finish it off to the end before doing a couple of more in silence. There wasn’t much to say, they both thought, as they already said enough.

After the third cigarette, Jungkook finally broke his silence.

“I think I’m going to leave.”

Her head lifted up from its resting position to look up at him. God, her eyes were beautiful, so full of life. He wanted to kiss her, but he restrained himself. He didn’t want to be selfish in that regard anymore.

“Leave?”

“I’m going to end my contract and retire. I’m leaving the industry behind.”

Her eyebrows scrunched up in shock as they pulled apart. The contract renewal had been a looming topic amongst the company for quite some time. While the group had been less active in the recent years with the birth of Seokjin’s firstborn, it has been the general consensus that the group would continue to perform until they all passed away. At first, Jungkook was open to the idea, but as time went on, he felt tired, exhausted.

Done.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know what I’d be doing after, but I want to find myself. Maybe, I’ll find another you,” he grinned, a tear leaving his eye.

She inhaled, her lips pursed into a small heart. She sat up, blinking furiously before exhaling sharply and laughing.

“Well then! I support it, Kook,” she smiled, patting him on the shoulder. It was a pang to his heart, but it had to be done. They weren’t lovers anymore, but rather, formerly intimate lovers turned lifetime companions.

Jungkook was unsure where it would take. Surely, he just thought about it on the spot. He wondered how the fans would take it. After all, he spent twenty years as a member of BTS, a successful solo artist and actor and was one of the most well-loved celebrities from his home country. He was seen as The Pride of Busan as he never once got into a scandal despite having an arm littered with tattoos, face piercings and a drinking habit. His fans were fiercely protective of his privacy against stalkers and delusional fans alike, and a move like this would piss off the company for sure.

He didn’t care though. After all, he never listens but he sure is handsome.

It was time to take his life back.

“Me too.”

[END]

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #pls don't kill me for this lmao i wanted to explore how cynical he would be #if y'all are interested in reading them actually fighting then lmk!#mine #writing #dtl

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come-down-that-tree · 3 years ago

Text

Prologue Previous

Come down that tree! (An aftermare story)

Chapter 8: Hindi ka pangit mahal kong kaibigan!

Something was tingling his nose. Nightmare groaned before cracking open an eye-socket and falling nose to nose with his twin's face, far too close to his. He somehow looked really smug and was holding a blade of grass, he probably used that to bother his nose and that's what woke him up.

"What…"

Dream instantly shushed him, smile going wide and body almost vibrating from barely contained energy. What was happening? The dark twin tried to remember the last time he was greeted from sleep in such a strange way. His fuzzy mind summoned some distant memory about a "really cute squirrel who somehow fell asleep on his lap and that should not be awakened" and he glanced to his lap. There was resting the snoozing head of their “guest”. Gears turned slowly inside his mind and due to an inability to properly compute any information so early in the morning, Nightmare just huffed and looked back at his brother as if everything was normal.

“You think you can get us something good for breakfast ‘m kinda hungry?”

Dream just nodded and went his merry way to the village but he still saw the shine in the goldenish eyes. That little-

He will let this slide because the other guardian finally looked happy again and maybe also because he was beyond exhausted. Maybe. He didn’t even remember falling asleep last night.

Now about his lap’s situation… Should he move him?

He didn’t move him.

What would be the point? All he risked was to wake the other up. When he was probably just as tired as him. What if he somehow woke up half panicked again? Would he be able to be left unharmed this time? There was no cute animal on his lap.

A menacing ticking bomb at best.

The future exploding engine stirred a bit and Nightmare tensed.

Do not move.

May the train of panic go back to its station without his passenger.

“I GOT DONUTS!”

Nightmare silently cursed his twin and surveyed the result of the shout with a wary eye. The sleeper uncurved from his asleep posture and gazed upon the surroundings.

Geno didn’t even seem to react upon realizing his position and just sat up against the tree, all while rubbing away the tiredness of his face.

Dream sat in front of them and started to share the various pastries stored in a basket he brought back from down the hill without a care in the world.

They ate together, ignoring for a blissful moment all the turmoil from the last days. Nightmare cut half of his sugary treat to nimble on it, pondering over his feelings over the whole situation. He could see on one side his brother eating far too quickly as usual -he was going to choke anytime soon now- and on the other side Geno treated the food as if it was something incredibly precious… Was he eating enough? Spirit guardians didn’t need that much food to go on. Honestly, a sunny day was almost as filling as a big meal and they only ate sometimes as a treat.

The monsters in his books seemed to eat at least once a day, unless they were on some sort of adventure. He eyed up and down their guest. Hard to say when a skeleton was malnourished. But his bones’ dull color and… “melted” eye socket didn’t offer him the image of a healthy individual…

A part of him refused to even worry about the one who scared and endangered him so much recently. How dared he call him soulless… It hurted. A lot. It wasn’t the first time he had been accused of such a thing and he would have lashed out -or fled- if not for the sad sight he had had before him. Geno had all but crashed down, unresponsive to the outer world. Memories of weeping down in a dark alley after a literal breakdown had made him do what he’d wish someone had done to him then. Get him back to reality, maybe a bit harshly, and ensure he calmed down fully before anything. His anger had dimmed along the ordeal.

It had disappeared completely when the other went back on his words.

Still, he was still waiting for a genuine apology. But confronting the other about that didn’t sit well with him. He will wait. He was sure now. Geno was strange, not mean.

A shiver on his neck made his head turn around. He caught Dream staring at him with a frown, some donut crumbs lingering around his mouth. His brother almost instantly smiled at him brightly as if the frown had been nothing more than a hallucination upon noticing him watching. Uh? Was something worrying him? Maybe a conversation will be needed later… He didn’t like the face he saw and liked even less what it could mean.

Later.

When he’ll no longer be so exhausted from all this touchy feelings stuff. Urg.

He’ll ignore it for today, just today.

Ignorance was bliss and he sure was yearning for some…

It was not as blissful as he'd hoped. Not for him. They stayed in an awkward silence for days!!!

Dream seemed to spend an awful long time in the village. Geno kept silent and Nightmare didn't know what to say.

Awkward. Silence.

The time suddenly felt so long. He was used to silence but not that kind. A heavy one. He tried his best to distract himself with books. Why couldn't he focus properly on the stories? He already read that line three times and that was one of his favorite books he specially went to pick up at the library -he also finally apologized for the wet book, thankfully the old librarian was one of the few to not dislike too much so his precious book's supply hadn't been cut off- in the vain hope it could distract him.

But no. He kept thinking about the other resting in the grass not far.

It was the 4th time he read that sentence.

"What are you readin' ?"

Geno was all of the sudden right next to him, glancing at the words he was trying to understand. The surprise made Nightmare let go of the book that hit the grass with a flap. The monster calmly picked it up and handed it to him. The guardian took it with much more precaution than needed and secured it against his chest before even thinking about answering.

“It’s “La nuit des enfants rois” by Bernard Lenteric…”

“Oh? I don’t know that one, what’s it about?”

He turned fully towards Geno and cocked his head on the side, wondering if the other genuinely wanted to hear about the book’s plot or was just… What?

“Come on, don’t be shelf-ish! Share with the class!”

“If you insist… Wait a second.”

The realization of the attempt at a book pun made him wheeze. It was bad! Truly! But he did not expect it and now he just. Couldn’t. Stop. Laughing! They ended up talking for a while about this book, then other books, then weird scientific experiments about waffles… Geno tried to pun his way through the whole conversation, talking faster and louder with each one succeeding in making the guardian react.

It had been… fun.

He glanced at Geno who was trying to tell a story with the more fish puns possible in it. The monster was grinning brightly. He sure was prettier with a smile on.

Geno suddenly dropped the smile and looked at him with a strange shine in his eyes.

"I'm no pretty."

Oh. Oh! He said it aloud. Warmth went up his face as shame flooded his system. Whyyyy!?

His bashful act disappeared as soon as he registered how serious Geno seemed. He stared at the other for a second before saying out loud and clear:

"You're not ugly either."

"No. I am."

"Why are you being so stubborn about it? Can't accept a little compliment, can you?"

At this point, Nightmare was just irked by the discussion and stopped thinking altogether about what he was sputtering about. He would think later about how utterly silly the argument was and maybe swallow a bit in shame once alone. But now what was important was winning the argument.

"Sure, you aren't a beauty princess but going as far as calling yourself ugly is stupid. Why are you doing that?"

“Hypocrite!” was shouting his mind but he pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for that.

Geno sighed and shaked his head. Was the fool going to argue such a dumb fact?

Nightmare squeaked as he watched the monster slowly lift his shirt. Nope. Automatically his hands flew to his eye sockets. Ah! He can’t see anything now. Not good if the need to run arised…

“What are you doing?”

…

No answer, nothing. Should he try a peek?

His fingers moved slightly to allow himself to see.

His hands dropped.

In front of him, Geno was looking away, a hand holding his shirt up, revealing a sight the negative guardian wasn’t prepared to see. Ever. He tentatively itched closer, not daring to turn his eyes away.

“Does it hurt?”

A shiver runned through the most damaged ribs Nightmare has ever seen.

“No. Not anymore.”, breathed Geno.

The bones looked like something all but gnawed on it right after stabbing it all over. What was strange was the absence of cracks. Almost as if, the missing bits had not been torn away but just decided to stop existing. What could cause such “wounds”?

“How did you…?”

“I rather not talk about it.”

And with these words, the fabric flopped down, cutting short the fragile conversation. They fall back into silence.

But with the thoughts raging through his mind, Nightmare didn’t feel really “quiet”.

He didn’t know what to say so he said nothing and went to sit a bit further against a tree, cracking open his book. Not once did he cross Geno’s eyes during the process.

It was the 5th time he read this sentence.

End of chapter 8!

Go to chapter 9?

------------------------------------------------------------

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont @zu-is-here

Dreamtale, Dream and Nightmare belong to @/jokublog

Geno to @/loverofpiggies

#chapter 8 #aftermare #come down that tree!#Hindi ka pangit mahal kong kaibigan!#I wonder if some of you guys look up the translation of the titles X)#by ''you guys'' I mean the 4 (sometimes 5) persons reading my story XD #I'm not very fond of this chapter #kinda hate it #just a bit #but I hope dear readers that you'll enjoy it!#the twins really need to talk at one point #but nothing like fleeing from a difficult conversation uh?#both sides #here a lil' thing I wanted to write more about but didn't #about the food thingie (a headcanon of mine for this story)#Night' rarely asks Dream to go search for food unless it's to celebrate something #when he is in a very good mood or when he wants some confort #(or to distract his twin)#which one is it here? :)

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royalcabinet · 3 years ago

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ㅤㅤDrunk In love

fandom: dc

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader (there's mentions of reader being curvy, but besides that no other aspect of physical appearance is cited)

rating: this chapter doesn't contain anything ssxual but I still shouldn't be viewed by minors since it's my blog general policy

content warning: brief mention of physical violence, a man being creepy. summary: Bruce goes to a famous strip club after hearing the rumors of a new drug hitting Gotham.

word count: 1.5k

do not repost or translate my work, even with credit. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed, it shows that you liked my work and it inspires me to continue writing.

It's a rainy day in Gotham which means most people are rushing to get home, but not Bruce he is far from home walking down a mostly silent alleyway. Hands in his pockets and head hung low he doesn't need directions for the path he is walking. Bruce stops when the reflection of the neon sign hits the puddle in front of him, he finally raises his head to read the sign "The Zoo". Without much hesitation he walks to the entrance where two bouncers stand, they both look at him head to toe and after whispering something to each other they open the door and let him in.

Bruce chooses a seat by the bar closest to a corner that way he is barely seen while watching everyone in the club, he asks the bartender for a whiskey in order to look less like a creep. His eyes are scanning the room looking for any suspicious behavior, that's when he finds you sitting on the lap of some man, you instantly awaken something in him. He isn't sure what's the reason behind it but it's enough to make his cheeks get warm. Maybe it's the smile you flash while laughing at a joke he assumes it's unfunny, after all a man that pays for company surely can't make a beautiful woman like you laugh that much but who is he to assume something like that, he is the least flirty man of Gotham. Despite being titled The Prince of Gotham no one has earned his "royal" heart which makes the tabloids write some quite awful headlines he doesn't really care about. His transit ends when you get up and carry the man you were seated on by the hand taking him to a badly illuminated hallway far from the club's main stage.

"What happens back there?" He asks the barman, "Depends on how much you pay. Cheapest thing is a lap dance but if you got the green the girls will do anything" the word anything sticks into his head, he tells himself that the guy you were with is a cheap one at least that's what he wants to believe the idea of someone else touching you messes up his brain in ways that never happened before. "Did any of them catch your eye?" the barman asks interrupting Bruce's thoughts, when he doesn't respond the barman opens his mouth again "The boss has a good selection y'know, there's something for everyone. Even for you I suppose" Bruce decides to finally respond just in the hopes of regaining his silence back "There was a girl just here, she took a guy back there. Who is she?" it takes awhile for the barman to think but he finally responds "Oh the panda, she is on the thicker side but she's really pretty. The boss has a good taste" the response makes Bruce's face involuntary frown in disgust. Despite a few seconds ago being desperate for silence Bruce decides to use the barman's need for constant chatter to his own advantage after all he is here for a mission not to see the girls dancing. "I heard the bar offers a special drink, is it true?" the man on the other side of the bar swallows and looks around before opening his mouth, but even with his mouth agape words come out. It makes Bruce wonder if he just made a mistake by asking it so casually, once again his thoughts are interrupted by the barman "Look I don't know much about it just that the boss serves it to special clients, big paying ones." the man looks around again before taking a deep breath and continuing talking "As far as I heard it's not made here so it's really hard to get. It has a bunch of side effects. The men love it, the girls? Not so much. That's all I know". Bruce nods he is content enough with that answer, all he can do now is wonder how he will talk to the boss the barman talks so much about. After all everything about this said man is talk, no one seems to know him and those who do prefer to pretend they don't.

While taking the last sip of his whiskey Bruce notices the man you were with coming back and sitting down on the same chair again, you to his dismay are nowhere to be seen. He could wait for you but his brain reminds him of the purpose of this visit, deciding that he should go home to conduct some more research. He pays for the whiskey slipping in an extra bill as a tip for the barman as a thank you for the information. He gets up and walks to the front door, before making it far a voice behind him speaks "Hey Mr. Wayne" this is enough to make Bruce turn around when the bouncers notice they got his attention one of them says "It's a pleasure to have you here. Come back anytime you want, we will tell the boss you came and I'm sure he will have something special for you" with a stoic look on his face all that Bruce can do is nod and flash them a smile so minimal you can miss it with the blink of an eye.

He then proceeds to follow his way once again with his head hung low, that's until he hears a noise coming from the side of the club. Even with a terribly lit street light he is close enough to see who came out, you that's who he sees. You're wearing much more clothing than you were just a while ago, but it's still tight enough for him to form the shape of your body. When you start walking he does the same, this time rearranging his posture to look less creepy in the hopes of not startling you. The two of you barely go down the club alleyway when both notice a noise coming from behind, it's the sound of footsteps, many of them in fact hitting the puddles in the street every so often. You both watch the man from opposites sides of the streets, you in a much more light up and him keeping up with his usual behavior in the darker one. The man, who happens to be the same one that was at the club, is finally able to catch up with you which makes Bruce tense up, but he doesn't want to blow his cover so he decides to hide further into the darkness and just watch what is about to go down. "Shit you left so fast I had to run really fast" the man says out of breath "I really liked you and I want to you know take you out, get yo know you more" when Bruce hears that his fist clenches making it turn white with the amount of force he is applying on himself. "I appreciate the thought but I don't do business outside of the club, it's policy" you reply, that answer obviously makes the man disappointed. "There's no business just me and you having a great time, think about it" you let out a deep breath while thinking of ways to form a phrase polite enough to not anger the man but still be assertive "Look I really can't talk to clients, everything we do with the people in the club stays in the club, ok?". Deciding that that's enough you turn around and go back to walking, you do so until you feel a strong arm holding you "If we don't do it in a nice way then it shall be in an unpleasant one" the man says. That's the final straw for Bruce he runs to the other side of the street launching himself into the man throwing him into the wall "When someone tells you no, you better listen", despite the shoving into the wall being enough to leave the other guy hurt Bruce holds the collar of his shirt leaving his face exposed just the right way for Bruce to start throwing punches at his face. He has no idea how many times he hit the guy, he only stops when a soft voice behind him says "Please stop, that's enough already". Bruce steadies one hand into the concrete wall in front of him and lets the other go "If you say so" he responds. "Thank you for doing this. We're all used with creeps at this point so we know our ways, either way thanks" you say flashing a small smile at him. With his head hung low enough in order for you to know he is listening while still protecting his identity, Bruce mutters out "You're welcome" before watching you disappear into the streets of Gotham.

On the way home his head is filled with flashes from tonight, your smile, the talk he had with the barman, the bouncers and most importantly the fight. His logical side wants to focus on the mission while his emotional one can only focus on you. Either way Bruce knows one thing, he has to go to the club again.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #pattison!batman x reader #batman x reader #the batman #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x you #batman x fem!reader #ch: bruce wayne #ch: batman #robert pattinson #fic #fanfic #original content

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therunawaykind · 3 years ago

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She looks like fun - Part I

Pairing: Fratboy!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Alcohol, kissing, drugs. (I think that's it lemme know if I missed anything)

Author's Note: SURPRISE! This idea came up in my mind simply because I couldn't get fratboy! Wanda out of my head. It's probably rough as I wrote most of it on my phone. Probably spelling and grammar mistakes. Anticipate more parts at some stage, I just don't know when.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

You somehow ended up at a frat party with your group of friends…. Not somehow because a handful of your friends was in the frat, they always begged you to go to parties so you pleased them and went every time you could. Albeit there was a lot of people you didn’t know but hey you were all college students going to parties and getting drunk was what you did. However, this party felt different and you couldn’t figure out why. You knew the head of the frat was the twins, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff to be exact.

You were just relaxing in the garden out back with Natasha and her girlfriend Maria Hill, having some beers and relaxing from all the studying and stress. It always felt like someone was staring at you, but, you couldn’t see anyone staring whenever you turned around. Natasha seemed to notice you were fidgety and nudged you with her elbow “hey L/n you alright?” You glanced up at her and nodded “yeah totally probably just the alcohol getting to me.” From behind you heard one of the twins shout “hey Romanoff beer pong tourney, grab a partner!” She turned her head to Maria and raised her eyebrow and Maria immediately shook her head “not tonight Nat I’m way too drunk to win this tourney with you.” Natasha instinctually turned towards you “what about you L/n? You up for taking down the competition?” you downed the rest of your beer and nodded “let’s do this, nothing wrong with getting a bit drunker. Also, we were great beer pong partners before why not claim that title again Romanoff.”

You threw your bottle into the bin as you walked into the house again. As you were setting up your beer pong table you never noticed the two twins staring at you hard and Wanda whispered to Pietro “Piet, who’s that girl with Natasha?” He looked at his sister suspiciously “Wands that’s Y/n L/n, she’s been here quite a lot before, I don’t know how you only noticed her now. She and Natasha were great beer pong players but stopped playing together once Nat got with Maria. Wanda just hummed in response and mumbled “hopefully we get to play against them then.”

As the night went on you and Nat were basically unbeatable in beer pong, Nat’s baseball cap somehow ended up on your head and you wearing it backwards. Whenever you both had won you both jumped and ran around the house and high fived. Once you both had calmed down Maria would kiss Nat in celebration and good luck for the next round. It was only once the Maximoffs had kept eyes on you they realised just how good you and Nat were as a pair. The twins started mumbling underneath their breaths “fuck.” You were somehow still standing maybe it was due to the glasses of water you were downing between rounds and making sure Nat was as well.

The guy that everyone knew liked Wanda kept coming up to her and kept flirting with her but Wanda was having none of it she was too enamoured by you tonight. She was wondering how she never noticed you before. Looking at you, she would’ve thought you were a quiet student who wouldn’t go out of her way to parties...especially frat parties. Vision started kissing Wanda but she turned so when she looked over his shoulder she could see you. Just as Wanda started pulling away from Vis, to her you had somehow poured a drink all the way down the front of your white shirt and could see the outline of your black bra and her breath hitched and walked back to Pietro. Pietro gave her a knowing smirk “so you and Vis huh?” she immediately shook her head “not even remotely gonna happen if that kiss was anything to go by, besides I think he just wants me because I’m one of the leaders of this frat.”

Pietro nodded and hummed agreeing. Pietro cleared his throat “come on let’s get back to the tourney and we have one pair left to play.” Wanda’s head whipped around to her twin “who?” Pietro smirked and pointed over at you and Nat “them.” Pietro and Wanda smirked.

You and Natasha were basically sitting on the floor from laughing, to anyone else it’d look like you spilt the drink all down your front but actually, it was Natasha that chucked it at you to try and wake you up because you were getting sleepy. “Come on sleepyhead, we have one more pair to play and that happens to be the Maximoffs then we can get you home and sleep.” You stared up at her with your eyes narrowed “who’s these Maximoffs you speak of?” Natasha looks across at you “y/n/n you can’t be serious, they’re the head of this whole frat an….” Just as Nat was going to continue she got interrupted “we would be those Maximoffs she speaks of.” You lean your head back more and exclaim “oh you two guys! I’ve seen you around before, hey!” Natasha laughs at you and helps you up “come on L/n we gotta show these Maximoffs who the superior pair is!” You hear the pair scoff as you stand up.

It was possibly the tensest match of the night. The whole party was basically circled around this one tiny beer pong table. You and nat have never been so focused on a game in your entire beer pong careers. Nat leaned over and whispered to you “I’ve never seen the twins more nervous and focused as they are right now.” You glanced up at Nat and looked over at the twins and exhaled. You were twirling a ping pong ball around your fingers as you watched Pietro easily get it into the second last cup. You picked up the cup and downed it, once you finished it you threw your ping pong ball into their second last cup and the whole crowd gasped. Nat clung to your arm.

Wanda glared at you she threw her ping pong to get it into your last cup, it hit off the lip of the cup and bounced off the cup onto the ground. The crowd gasped and everyone’s jaw dropped. Natasha shoved her ping pong ball into your hand “you have to do this, you have to win this I don’t trust myself.” You glared at her and said through gritted teeth “Natasha!” She glared back at you and Maria winked at you. You stared down at the ball and took a deep breath. As you looked over at the twins you saw Vision come up and put his hands around Wanda to try to relax her but she just shoved him off of her as she kept her eyes on you. You held your breath and threw the ball and saw it land into Wanda’s cup and everyone stood there in shock. Wanda picked up her cup and downed the drink while keeping her eyes on you.

You jumped around in celebration with Natasha and she whispered into your ear “looks like you have an admirer.” You turned around and shook your head “not even close Nat, she has no interest in me.” She chuckled, “say that to her deadly stare.” Pietro mumbled to Wanda “told you sis they were a good pair before.” Wanda simply grumbled in response, then an idea hit her and she yelled “alright everyone out apart from the people actually in the frat.” You were just about to leave out the front door saying goodbye to Nat when all you heard was “and also the winning beer pong pair can stay.” Your head turned and looked at Nat and she shrugged, took your hand and dragged you back over to her. You were all sitting down in a circle. What was left of the party was Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha, Maria, Vision (surprisingly), Wanda, Pietro, Bucky and a few others you couldn’t think of their names at this moment in time.

You were sitting on the couch with Natasha and Maria when Wanda came out of nowhere and squished in beside you. You glanced over at Nat and she raised her eyebrows at you and quietly laughed. Wanda threw down a bag of weed “help yourselves.” You leaned forward making yourself a joint leaning back on the couch with your head back smoking it. Whilst your eyes were closed Wanda was staring at you and subtly bit her lip when all of a sudden she said “looks like the quiet, mysterious girl isn’t so innocent after all.” you opened your eyes and Natasha started laughing and mumbled more to herself but Wanda heard her say “You have no idea what that girl gets up to.”

Wanda looked down at you and put her fingers onto your chin and you looked up at her and hummed. Wanda could see Vision out of the corner of her eye glaring at her, she smirked to herself and took a pull from her joint, holding the smoke in her mouth. You looked at her knowing what she was going to do, you opened your mouth slightly and Wanda blew her smoke into your mouth. As soon as that happened you and Wanda started kissing and both slid your tongues into each other's mouths as you grabbed onto each other's shirts. As you both started to pull away Wanda saw Vision walk to get another drink somewhere and smirked to herself. Pietro was grinning knowing what she was doing. Natasha tapped your shoulder “c’mon y/n/n time to get back to the dorm.” You looked between Natasha and Wanda knowing you could stay here with Wanda for the night but not knowing if it would be genuine and loving the added factor you’d be forcing her to wait for you and making her want you more. You saw Wanda raise her eyebrow, you took another pull of your joint and placed it into Wanda’s mouth. “Alright let’s go Nat.”

Wanda’s eyes went wide as you left with Maria and Natasha, after you left the rest of the party started to leave. It was just being left with Wanda and Pietro and he let out a boisterous laugh “oh my god I can’t believe you just got denied and forced to wait for the mysterious y/n l/n.” She held the joint you gave her between her fingers and mumbled “two can play at that game.” Pietro snickered “you can play that game, but I’ve never seen you so determined to get a girl before in my life, she’s different Wands and you know it. You’re gonna be the one going after her.” Wanda looked up at him and nodded “I know, it just looks like we’re gonna be throwing more parties and I’ll have to seek her out throughout the college day.”

Wanda went to sleep that night still having the feeling of your lips on hers and determined to get to see you once again. Needless to say, you were in the same boat you were wondering what possessed you to kiss Wanda tonight, but all you knew was that you wanted to kiss her and see her again.

#elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x you #wanda maximoff #marvel imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff au #wanda marvel #wanda x you #Fratboy!wanda maximoff #She looks like fun #College Wanda

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abimess · 3 years ago

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Another Day of Snow

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Masterlist | Library Blog

Summary: You and your girlfriend have a lovely day outside in winter.

Warnings: none

Pronouns: not used || Word count: 1.147

Okay this request was absolutely adorable, hope you guys enjoy it too!

Note: in case you're wondering if the title is a reference to La La Land, you're correct

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

For this request | Christmas Special Masterlist

───── ⋅ ⋇ ❅ ⋇ ⋅ ─────

When the weather gave a respite and finally stopped snowing, you decided to spend some time outside.

According to the news, today is one of the coldest days of the year. But luckily, your ability to manipulate ice and cold enabled you to feel less than a shiver as you walked through the door.

The day is as beautiful as it is cold. Snow piling up everywhere highlights the colors of the trees and flowers that surround the Avengers facility.

Sitting on one of the benches, you admire the landscape. Everything was peaceful and quiet until an impact against your face startles you. As you let out a surprised groan, a giggle is heard beside you.

"This is not fair." You complain, but as soon as the last word comes out, a second snowball hits you on your shoulder.

"Really?" You ask, looking at your girlfriend with an unfunny expression, but Wanda casts you an amused smile. "Oops." She says innocently but is already preparing the next snowball, and you chuckle. "May the war begin, Maximoff."

And like that, you start a snowball fight. You laugh out loud as the balls hit one another, from time to time sending threats to each other.

For some reason, Wanda is much better than you at this and makes snowballs much faster than you. You keep complaining about it, and she keeps making fun of you.

Then you decide to use your powers, using the surrounding humidity to conjure snowballs. Wanda notices and is not at all pleased by it. "Hey, you can't use your powers!"

"Who said that?" You ask challengingly, and Wanda raises her brows. "I did." She answers, and you smirk. "That's not very convincing."

You keep using your powers, and soon Wanda's using hers as well. And like this, you take the war to another level.

Lots and lots of snowballs start being thrown much faster than before, and you and Wanda use your powers to create protective barriers.

At one point in the game, you both decide to build forts and determine that whoever gets to the other's fort first without being hit wins.

The competition becomes milder after this, but the tension only increases. You see Wanda preparing several snowballs, and decide that this is the best time to try to invade her fort.

As soon as you start running, however, a sequence of snowballs fly towards you. You manage to dodge them all by projecting a snow shield in front of you.

"I can't believe you made all those balls and didn't hit me with any of them." You taunt, laughing at her disappointed expression. But then she raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips. "You sure?"

Before you can even ask, Wanda flickers her fingers, and you feel the ice hitting the back of your neck, making you groan.

And so you go back to playing, and things go back to the almost monotonous war while you both try to think of plans to invade each other's forts. Wanda tries a few times, but you always manage to stop her at the last second. In your turn, you have an idea.

Instead of advancing along the front line, you decide to go around, near the trees. Luckily, Wanda didn't try to intrude on your fort in the meantime, and when you were close enough to her, you jump on her. With the brunette's fright, you both fall, you on top of her.

"I win," you say, smiling victoriously as you rest your hands beside her head, and Wanda pushes you lightly in the chest, "better luck next time, witchy." You tease, and in response, Wanda rubs snow on your cheek.

"Hey! Why did you do that?" You complain, and the girl laughs. "Because you deserved it." She replies with a raise of her eyebrows, and you scoff. "Why?!"

"Because I'm your girlfriend, you should've let me win." She explains, shrugging, and you giggle. "I'll remember that next time... For now, I want my prize for winning."

"Okay, and what prize do you want, winner?" The brunette asks amusedly, and you pretend to think for a moment. "A kiss." You answer finally, and Wanda raises an eyebrow. "Just one kiss?"

"Did I say one? I meant a million." You retort, making the girl giggle, the sound warming your heart. "That's a lot of kisses." She remarks, and you shrug. "Good luck to you, I'll be counting."

"I'd better start now, then." She says, and before your smile can even finish growing, she is pulling you down, connecting her lips to yours.

"You guys are disgusting." You hear Yelena's voice a few minutes later, and the two of you break apart amidst giggles. "Come on, Nat made hot chocolate."

You stand up then, offering your hand for Wanda to take, and she does. As soon as she is on her feet, she wraps her arms around your neck, and you smile as she kisses you again. The two of you start walking toward the compound after that.

"Just for the record, I let you win," Wanda says before you reach the door, and you laugh through your nose. "Yeah, right." You reply, unconvinced. Then you use your powers to conjure a small lump under the brunette's feet for her to trip over, but you stop her from falling by holding her arm.

Wanda elbows you in retaliation, and you laugh as you continue walking.

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Later, you and Wanda cuddle in front of the fireplace, chocolates in hand. Everything is peaceful and quiet until Wanda decides to rest her feet on your shin.

"My God, woman, are you even alive?!" You ask, looking at her in shock. "I'm cold." She answers before taking a sip of her hot chocolate, and you smile, thinking she looks like the cutest thing alive.

"Come on, my little cadaver." You tease, pulling her closer to you, and Wanda grimaces. "Geez, Y/n, don't call me that!" She complains but snuggles into you anyways, and you smile.

"Warm up those feet then." You hit back, arranging more of the blanket over her frozen feet. "I'm trying, you're my heater."

"Lucky me." You reply in playful irony and Wanda raises her eyebrows. "Are you complaining? I can find someone el-"

"No!" "Not at all." You interrupt, and Wanda giggles. "That's what I thought." She says as makes a cocky expression, but can't hide her shy smile, and you smile.

You spend a few minutes of silence after that, the only sound in the room being the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. Eventually, Wanda hugs you tighter.

"I love you, babe." She says softly against your chest and an ear-to-ear smile makes itself present on your lips as your heart flutters in your chest, the feeling of completeness spreading through your entire being.

"I love you too, witchy."

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#Day 12: A sucker for you (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

Taglist: @yuhloversxx @madamevirgo @an-evergreen-rose @helloalycia @wandas1mp @cantcontroltheirfear @diaryoflife @cristin-rjd @ensorcellme @aimezvousbrahms @natasha-danvers @purplemeetsblue @randomshyperson @peggycarter-steverogers @b0mbdotc0m @ethereal-pxradise @stephanieromanoff @tomy5girls @gingerbreadcookieforlife @imapotatao @musicinourlips @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @allfiguredout @olsensnpm @magicallymaximoff @nothing-isimpossible @mionemymind @itsmionet @xastrydx @sxfwap @nicole-rayleigh-hot @wellsayhelloaagin @midnight-lestrange @1-800-depressedlesbian @b-5by5 @blackwow34 @nervoustrack @somewhatgreatexpectations @yeetus-thyself @chelleztjs18 @franfineashell @mrromanoff (if you wanna be tagged check the form on my BIO)

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #christmas special

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