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deadsetobsessions · 5 months

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Danny always knew tax evasion ran in his veins. His parents hadn’t been the most… morally sound of people, and less so as ecto-scientists.

He just didn’t think their lessons would ever result in a criminal empire that spanned the entire city and then some. Danny hadn’t seen it coming. His parents definitely wouldn’t have.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Fox.”

Danny ‘the Phantom’ Fenton sat down across from a rather tense looking (to Danny’s enhanced senses, anyways) Brucie Wayne and his right hand, Lucius Fox. He smiled pleasantly, matching Brucie’s vacant smile with that touch of Midwest suburban mother smile.

With his acquisition of multiple Gotham companies, his rather newly established Fentom Co. became one of the largest holding companies in Gotham, the first being Wayne Enterprises and the second being Drake Industries. After months of constantly working his butt off while fending off assassins, reforming Gotham’s slums and cleaning up some of the streets, and taking care of his nest of street kids, Danny garnered enough power to even stand close to Wayne Enterprises in terms of financial powers.

The topic of this meeting was, of course, the proposed merger of Wayne Enterprises’ Medical R&D division with Fentom Co.’s pharmaceutical department. Usually, Wayne Enterprises wouldn’t even consider such an offer, as their Medical R&D division was the most well funded and least likely to be part of a Rogue’s scheme- and therefore most beloved- department of the same nature in Gotham. However, Danny had something the other offers didn’t.

Blackmail.

His overly polite smile widened as Bruce’s mask twitched. His eyes slid over to Lucius Fox.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve heard much about your genius in… research and development.”

By that, Danny meant that he knew Lucius Fox helped develop Batman’s tech.

He did a lot of stalking that week. It felt rather… invasive, even if he did get a bunch of juicy secrets.

You know what they say: dead men tell no tales… but halfas are generally blabbermouths.

“Is that so? It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Fenton.” The man quickly glanced between the youngsters, accurately predicting that this might have something to do with Bruce’s active nightlife.

“Yes, it is such a pleasure to meet you.”

Wow, Danny didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone sound both so perky and dead inside at the same time, except for Susan at Gotham High’s bake sale.

Bruce wishes he could be a Susan. He’s at best a Becky.

“Will you be staying, Mr. Fox? You’re the head of the R&D department, correct?”

“Ah, yes-”

“Oh, Lucius! I think you had an appointment with the finance department right now! I heard Sally talk about it, you know!”

Lucius Fox sent an unreadable look at Bruce before rallying.

“Oh, it must have slipped my mind. My apologies, Mr. Fenton, it seems as though I can not skip this appointment.”

“That’s alright. I suppose it gives you… plausible deniability… should things go wrong, haha!” Danny allowed his smile to widen a little further than natural. Bruce tensed but Lucius Fox simply politely smiled and left the room.

Ignorance is bliss and all that, Danny amusedly thought.

As the door shut with a click, Bruce dropped the vacant Brucie smile and sighed.

“What do you want,” he gritted out. Danny wasn’t about to let that slide, not after he spent the better part of this month wrangling Bruce’s problem children.

“Ah, it must be because I’m from the Midwest, Brucie, but where I come from, we value these things called manners.”

You uneducated jerk, he doesn’t say.

Danny leaned back in his chair, loosening his smile into something relaxed and sharp.

“…” Oh, boy, Danny could just hear the other man’s blood pressure rising. “What is the purpose of your visit, Mr. Fenton?”

“Relax, Brucie,” Danny sing-songed in a non-relaxing way. “I’m just here to discuss a possible merger that I’m sure you’ll agree to, and give you a couple of updates on your… wayward bird.”

He heard Bruce take a slow, controlled breath. “Very well. Where. Would. You. Like. To. Start.”

Danny ignored the gritted out sentence. He passed a contract to Bruce, who took it like he was handling a live bomb.

“Here’s the proposal, Mr. Wayne. Please, look it over.”

He watched as Bruce looked over the contract with an eagle eye before lowering it, scrutinizing Danny.

“This is… very fair.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. Of course it was fair. Danny wasn’t interested in exploiting the Waynes, despite them being very able to afford it.

He’d brought fifty manufacturing sites for pharmaceuticals, and offered up a building where both companies could send their workers. He provided top notch security- that definitely didn’t have any talons on staff, what were they talking about?- that came from his own security division. Granted, most of them were reformed and trained goons, but hey, creating jobs can only help Gotham’s economy and help break the cycle of poverty, right? Guaranteed by the Wayne name and, most importantly, uncompromised medicine that was accessible to everyone would be a damn good start. He’d also have Penguin’s empire to distribute it to those who couldn’t make it to a clinic or a store, and there were plans in there to work with and establish contracts with Gotham’s welfare department. Well… once Danny finished replacing them with people who wouldn’t try to take a cut of the funds and actually cared about the people. He was thinking… the multitudes of poor grad students and parents that need income. He’s in the process of building childcare centers and…

It’s a good thing he managed to save money from the taxes (thank you, Gotham’s morally ambiguous tax experts that were in desperate need for clients! He could do it himself but having a team of accountants at the ready was seriously so helpful.) because ancients knows the government weren’t about to step into Gotham and help the people here. He needs so much money to pull all of this shit off and a lot of it has to be clean.

Danny inwardly sighed and marked another thing onto his to do list.

Make money laundering fronts.

“Of course, Mr. Wayne. You didn’t think I’d come in here demanding money, did you?”

“I considered it.”

“I am, in fact, trying to help Gotham. You might not agree with my methods, but I’d rather not damage Wayne Enterprises when it’s doing so much to help the people.”

Ugh, he was doing too much work. Danny just wanted to- hah- chill at home and read bed time stories to his kids.

Bruce Wayne, the specific blend between Brucie and Batman, regarded him silently. Danny felt like he went up a few notches in the respect ladder.

Nice.

“You’re a criminal.”

“Says the man in the bat-suit breaking into places and assaulting people.”

Bruce’s hands spasmed around the contract. Danny smiled at him, taking a sip of the coffee they’d prepared. Oo, nice!

“Ah, I heard you’re adopting- pardon, fostering- Tim Drake. Getting empty nest syndrome, Brucie?” He slipped back into using Bruce’s first name. The proposal was formal. This… was very much not.

“What about it?”

“That’s very kind of you. Speaking of which, well, of your birds, I was wondering if you remembered what I asked you to do.” Danny continued, not giving Bruce a chance to reply. “Didn’t I ask for you to keep your birds in line, Brucie?”

The CEO straightened even further, form filling out to be Batman’s imposing figure. “I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Do you know where your charge is, right now? No, not the formerly dead one,” Danny tilted his head, smile shrinking.

“Don’t you dare do anything to Tim. I swear, if you even lay a hand on a strand of his hair, I’ll-”

“Sit your Armani clad ass down, Bruce.” Danny snapped. “Your son’s in your office. I don’t harm children, and your assumptions are deeply insulting. Threaten me again, Bruce, and I’ll make sure you know exactly how much I know about your birds, your cousin, and the commissioner’s daughter.”

Bruce snarled but leashed his anger just enough to sit back down. He itched to go check on Tim, but leaving a threat like Phantom unwatched felt inherently wrong.

“Your other son,” Danny continued. “Is doing quite well. He’s learning that he has hobbies again. He’s actually working under me, you know.”

“He’s what.”

Oh, yeah, that tracks. It figured that Jason wouldn’t tell Bruce about anything. He’s still conflicted about his death. Danny got it.

“Ah, that’s precious information. You’ll have to offer something of equal value if you want to know. There is, on the other hand, a piece of information I’ll give you for free.”

Danny paused for the dramatic effect. It was lost on Bruce, the ultimate drama queen of this world.

“The League of Assassins are hanging around Hotham lately. It’s getting tedious, getting rid of them. I suggest talking to your old flame, you know, with words and what little communication skill you’ve got rattling around in your noggin to get them to pull back. Her interest is… unnaturally focused on Jason.”

Danny read the dark agreement swimming about Bruce’s face and inclined his head. “Should negotiations fail, rest assured that Jason will be protected.”

“…Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Go ahead and discuss the contract with Mr. Fox, I am sure you’ll find little problems with it. Ah,” Danny stood up, fixing his suit jacket. “And you should probably check up on Timothy. He’s probably having a great time in your office, Mr. Wayne.”

“I’ll see you out.”

“Of course.”

Having Batman escorting him out should probably be more intimidating.

Danny stood in the elevator, waiting for Bruce’s contemplative silence to put itself into words.

Sure enough, “What… what kind of hobbies does Jason have now?”

“I’d tell you to ask him, but you two aren’t on speaking terms, are you? He likes books, of course, but recently, he’s found an interest in glass blowing. He made quite a bit of progress on his attempts at sun catchers.”

“I see.”

Well, Danny’s not about to step on that landmine any more than he has to.

——

“Danny.”

“Oh, hey, Jason. Sit down, we were about to have dinner.”

Jason clambered into the window. Danny sighed. He had a door, but by the way Jason never used it, it was like the door didn’t exist.

“Mind telling me why the old bastard showed up on my rooftops with a bunch of glass and glassblowing tools?”

Danny smiled. “No idea.”

“Uh huh.”

Danny placed a hand on his chest and put on his best woe-is-me expression. The teen’s face twitched in annoyance. “Doubt? At me? Why, I never!”

A bread roll thwacked him in the face.

#dpxdc #danny phantom #batman #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #dc x dp #red hood #bamf danny phantom #crime lord Danny #accidental crime lord Danny

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lisired · 6 months

Text

change your mind yet?

pairing: haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, enemies to lovers-esque, choking, spit kink, haechan’s lowkey a cocky piece of shit, he calls you a bitch Lol

summary: You’re going to kill him. You swear, You’re going to kill him. how did Liu Yangyang accidentally tell Lee Donghyuck—your greatest enemy—that you think he’s hot and that you’ve been in a dry spell recently? Now you have to avoid the inevitable confrontation, and worst of all, deal with the most stubborn person alive (who ironically thinks that you’re the most stubborn person alive).

word count: 4.6k

a/n: very much an oldie… not so sure about a goodie but i do love the ending. i had written this for a friend lol

You love him to bits, but Liu Yangyang is not your favorite friend right now.

Fairly, you one-hundred percent blame him for the predicament you’re currently in. You know he can be a blabbermouth at times and wouldn’t do it on purpose, but there’s no way you’d let him get away with quote-unquote accidentally telling your mortal enemy that you think he’s hot, and that you’ve been having trouble getting off.

It was yesterday evening that you were on FaceTime with your best friend, simply conversating as per usual. You were ranting comfortably to Yangyang about your troubles and how sexually frustrated you are, and he suggested you getting laid. That’s how the topic of Lee Donghyuck came. He was suggesting people, and when he asked you if you thought Donghyuck was hot, you replied yeah, but I wouldn’t touch his dick with laboratory safety gloves.

Fast-forward some hours later, he’s consentfully telling your mutual friend Renjun about your conversation, in hopes of playing matchmaker and finding someone for you to fuck. The problem? Donghyuck was around, and somehow overheard everything except the part about you saying that you’d never touch his egotistical dick.

So now you’re on campus, avoiding your egotistic mortal enemy like the plague.

Why do you dislike Donghyuck? The answer’s simple, he’s one of those guys. The ones that think they own the world, and that it revolves around them. The ones that think they can have any and every person they want, and treat people’s hearts like dirt. In short, you don’t think he’s a good person, no matter how hot he is.

When your final class rolls around, you think you might’ve successfully dodged him. You had another class with him today, but for some reason he was a no-show. Not that you care, his lack of presence was relieving. Then, you see him stroll into your Language Arts class, and the bright red cherry on top? He’s quick to snatch the seat directly next to yours. Oh, brother.

“Hey,” Donghyuck whispers. “Let’s talk.”

Your heart is racing, but you think you manage to conceal it. “In the middle of class?”

He shrugs, “Afterwards.”

You’re running out of here the second your professor dismisses you.

So, Donghyuck cornered you.

There’s no going anywhere as long as he has you like this, backed up against a wall, his hands on either side of you, and his gaze practically rooting you in place. You feel like you’re being stared down by Medusa, still as stone as you look into his eyes.

“So, let’s talk,” he grins, tilting his head. “A little birdie tells me you think I’m hot, you’re under a dry spell, and that you’ve been having trouble making yourself cum lately.”

“Did you hear the part where I said I wouldn’t touch your egotistical dick with laboratory safety gloves?”

“Then it’s a good thing that I don’t need my dick to have your thighs shaking, huh,” you’re blushing, actually blushing, cheeks aflame and your skin all hot. To make matters worse, Donghyuck’s hands move from beside you to sitting pretty on your waist, not moving lower or higher, cool texture of his rings pressing gently into your skin. The contact has you in an internal frenzy, but you chalk it up to you simply being touch-starved. “Don’t you see these lips, baby?”

Alas, you do see them. With his face as close as it is to yours, you can’t help but see them. They’re pretty and plush, kissable, and kind of do look like they could eat—no, no, no, no. You’ve been with your share of guys like Donghyuck, ones that like to talk about how good they are, yet are severely disappointing in reality. For you to even be considering sleeping with him just goes to show that you’ve struck rock bottom.

“D-don’t call me that,” you curse yourself for stammering, because he only finds it amusing.

“Why not? I think you like it, baby,” Donghyuck teases, “is that the problem? You like me, but you don’t want to like me? You don’t like that you know I could make you feel good?”

You loosen your gaze, unable to bare eye contact with him any longer, “Fuck you, Donghyuck.”

“Fuck me your fucking self,” he grabs your chin, making you look at him. If you can see anything in his eyes, it’s the unmistakable gleam of lust, so dark yet so tempting. “You want it, don’t you?”

God dammit, you do want it. But you refuse to have your name crossed out on his checklist, to be another notch in his belt. You know it would only boost his ego to have seduced the most stubborn person alive into fucking him, and you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

“No.”

Donghyuck raises his eyebrow, “No?”

“No,” you repeat.

You don’t know how you expected him to react, but he takes it coolly, dropping his hands and stepping away. Aw no, did you hurt his ego? The thought almost makes you laugh.

“Okay, but you know where to find me when you change your mind,” He smirks, and you hate how confident he sounds. Not if, but when. When you change your mind.

He strolls away, and you let him. You have bigger fish to fry, and you refuse to let some grade A fuckboy get in your head.

Unfortunately, you are not as in control of your thoughts as you’d like. This is bad, really fucking bad, you think. Last night, you actually successfully managed to cum on your own. That should be a good thing, but the reason you came is absolutely humiliating. An embarrassing, taking-it-with-me-to-the-grave secret.

You may or not may not have came to the thought of Donghyuck. How his fluffy hair would look clamped to his forehead, or how his forehead would look dripping with sweat. Imagining his fingers replacing your own, fingering you with his rings on, the coolness of them against your skin. But what really did it was probably the image of him between your thighs that was planted in your brain the second he offered himself to you. You thought of what good his lips could do, and how they’d look dripping all wet.

This is fucking terrible. You haven’t came in god knows how long, and the one time you do after forever, it’s because of the man you’ve sworn to hate until the day you die. Usually this is something you’d rant to your best friend about, but after what happened the last time you told him about your sexual frustrations, you decide you’re going to keep this one to yourself. If Donghyuck ever heard you came to the thought of him eating you out, he’d literally never in a million years ever let you live it down.

Today’s a new day, but you haven’t been able to shake off the shame, particularly because tonight’s Renjun’s party, and being one of his best friend’s, Donghyuck will undoubtedly be there. He’s posted it on his story and everything, not that you were checking. You overheard Yangyang talking about it. But either way, you don’t know if you’ll be able look him in the eye again.

“It’s a good thing you’re going out again,” Yangyang assures, walking next to you as you two stroll into the party, “maybe you’ll meet someone else to help you get out of your dry spell.”

He’s right. This is your chance to get laid, get over whatever that was with Donghyuck, and move on. You’re like, ninety-nine point nine percent convinced you’re only attracted to him out of sheer desperation. The measly zero point one percent comes from you being aware that you’ve thought he was attractive long before yesterday happened, but whatever. Forget it.

So you nod in agreement. Soon enough, you’ve settled with the party atmosphere. You’ve had a drink but you’re not drunk, and you’ve tried socializing but everyone seems so not your style, which is insane, because Donghyuck isn’t your style either. You don’t think. No, he’s not.

This is worse than you initially suspected. You can’t find anyone, and Donghyuck’s still running through your mind, being a complete and utter distraction and he’s not even here—

Speaking of the devil himself, “Hey.”

You spoke too soon.

“Ohmygod, if you’re here to try and seduce me again, I’m not interested,” you groan, hoping he gets the message and leaves you the fuck alone. At the same time you really don’t, but you definitely think you should.

Donghyuck raises his hands, “But I’m egotistical. I just came here to invite you to a game of truth of dare with the gang, lighten up a lil, won’t ya?”

You sigh. “Where?”

He leads you to the room where everyone is, and you make sure to scoot next to Ningning and Jennie, refusing to sit anywhere besides Donghyuck. All you hope now is that the bottle doesn’t land on you after him.

A couple of rounds fly by, and you’re still safe. You’re having fun, and the thought of him escapes your mind with ease. Even when the bottle does land on you, he doesn’t dare you to do anything crazy that you thought he would.

After Yangyang’s turn, the bottle lands on you. You’re not worried, because Yangyang’s your best friend, he wouldn’t dare you to do anything stupid.

Then he does exactly that.

“Seven minutes in heaven with Donghyuck!”

You’re going to kill him. You’re mentally plotting his murder right now. How you’re going to do it, when, and where you’ll hide his body. If he suspiciously winds up missing, you’re more than likely the reason why.

“Pucker up, buttercup,” Yangyang blows you a kiss.

You spit back, “Shut up, bubble guts.”

You hear him gasp in offense, but whatever he says is cut off by Donghyuck.

“Come on, babes. I can hear your lips calling my name,” he teases, and you groan, clutching your fist. You guess there’s no way out of this. Well, technically there is, but Renjun let Yangyang choose the punishment and he decided to make anyone who refused to do a dare eat a spoonful of sour cream. Mind you, sour cream by itself is disgusting, and this is probably why he and his stomach are frequently at war, so your safest option is getting in that room with Donghyuck for seven minutes. You don’t even have to kiss, you can just let everyone think you did.

So you follow him into the bathroom connected to Renjun’s room, and the second the door shuts, he has you backed into yet another wall. He grins, “Change your mind yet?”

You stand your ground. “No.”

“That’s fine, we can make out in the meantime and then see how you feel after seven minutes.” he replies nonchalantly.

Even though you’ve been thinking about it, you grimace. “Gross.”

“What? It’s not my dick, why do you act like you hate me anyways? Not that I’m really complaining, I like when things are hard.”

“Bet you do,” you grumble. “And if I’m acting, then I must be Viola Davis.”

“Eh, I’d give you Keanu Reeves.”

You glare. “On second thought, I’m almost willing to kiss you if it means you’ll keep quiet.”

“Well you’re in luck,” Donghyuck grins, “because that and giving head are the only ways to silence me.”

You cave in soon later, letting him pin you to the wall, your hands above your head as he kisses you hungrily. It kills you to learn that he’s a great kisser, because that means he’s actually good at something other than running his mouth and being the bane of your existence twenty-four seven. Though you don’t know how that’s possible, he’s gentle yet rough. Caring in his movement, though passionate in them too. The way he’s kissing you, you’d think he loved you.

In spite of your obvious attempts to try and touch him, to maybe run your fingers through his hair or hold his cheeks in your hands, Donghyuck doesn’t let you move. You can feel the teasing grin bloom from his lips, and conclude that it’s intentional.

Never in a million years did you think you’d be french kissing Lee Donghyuck of all people, yet here you are. You can’t say you don’t like it, though. That would be lying. While you’d never admit anything like it, the roughness in the way he kisses you has you throbbing.

Donghyuck’s lips are like a drug. You stop for a moment to inhale, and then you’re lips are latched back onto each other. Exhale again, then you take another drag, and the cycle repeats. You could do this for fucking ever.

Then, the timer chimes.

“Time’s up!” Chenle yells from outside the bathroom, and Donghyuck pulls always almost instantly, surprisingly readier than you are.

He looks hot as he pants, chest rising and falling then rising again. He smirks, “Change your mind?”

God fucking damn it. Time went by a little too fast for your liking. Your lips are swollen, but you want more of him, to feel him, to touch him, especially because he didn’t let you. You’re finally admitting to yourself that you want him, and you can’t ignore your cravings anymore.

“Donghyuck,” you whimper, not caring in this moment who hears you, “w-want you.”

He smirks. “I know, baby. You wanna prove to me how much?”

You nod. It’s pathetic, truly, but you need this at this point. So you let Donghyuck lead you out of the bathroom, and essentially the bedroom, ignoring the curious sounds coming from your friends. He leads you down the hall into a different, emptier room, closing and locking the door behind the two of you.

“On the bed,” he instructs.

You comply, the desperation that accompanies having not slept with someone in months and orgasming in weeks making you leap into action in an instant. Then there’s this raw part of you that has lusted after him before you fully came to terms with your desire, making you feel the way blood courses through your veins.

Donghyuck walks up and kisses you again, this time allowing both of your pairs of hands to roam freely as you strip one another almost bare. In an eager motion, you peel away his shirt and jeans, and he matches your yearn, leaving you naked. He pulls away from your lips to eye your body in awe.

“You’re a bitch,” he says, “but a beautiful one.”

“Really turned me on,” you deadpan.

He laughs yet pushes your back flat against the mattress, wasting no time in hovering above your body. The proximity has your heart racing a little quicker, a little faster than it was out of something like anticipation. Donghyuck dips his head but doesn’t kiss you like you anticipate him to, at least not on the lips. His lips scout your neck, soft and sweet against your flesh. He sucks at your skin, and your mouth gapes a little, sounding the most sweet gasp before he digs his teeth in suit. It makes you whimper aloud his name, which he clearly enjoys from the way he smiles.

Donghyuck repeats a course of similar actions as he mouth scoots lower, kissing and sucking and biting at your collarbone. Then he proceeds after some time, traveling lower and taking your breast into his mouth or his tongue swirling over your nipples. He trails kisses at your sternum, your stomach, all the while your breath getting caught up in your throat the more his mouth falls down your body. He’s so obviously teasing you, you know that much. He has a destination yet no rush to get there, taking his sweet, precious time as though he’s rich of it. And maybe he is, but your patience is running thin, and there’s only so much more of this you can take. “Hyuck,” you cry out of sheer desperation, “hurry up.”

“For someone who claimed not to want me up until ten minutes again, you really are desperate for me,” Donghyuck replies, drawing his mouth away, and hence all contact there was.

Refusing to simply take that, you retaliate, “For someone who claimed they could make me feel good, you’re doing a whole lot of nothing right now.”

“Keep running that sharp mouth and I’ll have to put it to better use,” Donghyuck answers. It isn’t like you’re against giving head, and it wouldn’t sound so bad if you weren’t so painfully deprived of the same satisfaction Donghyuck’s offered to give you. Sure, the speed—or lack of the—heightens the anticipation, but you need him to quit teasing or you’ll actually go insane.

“You keep acting like you hate me,” Donghyuck moves between your legs, and you aren’t prepared for what he does next. Something about the way he slowly smooths his single finger through your folds and draws it into his mouth for a taste is hot to you, thus making you wish he’d finally get on with it. “But your cunt is telling me that you love me. Love this.”

Well it isn’t like he’s wrong. You haven’t been this wet in ages, the dry spell you’ve been under being extreme and severe. Touching yourself has gone absolutely no where up until last night, when you somehow managed to cum harder than you have in a minute. You’re starting to think that having Donghyuck as your muse changes things.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh. You’d love this more if he stopped making you wait, but you don’t say that aloud, starting to suspect that the more you complain the longer he silently decides he’s going to test your patience. After what feels like an eternity of touching you everywhere but where you desperately need him to most, Donghyuck’s tongue draws a line between your thighs. Then another, and another. It progresses into more with no particular rush, despite the inevitable whines you can’t prevent from falling out. “Hyuck,” you cry again, wishing he’d stop playing games.

Donghyuck teases, “What’s the magic word?”

“Please,” you beg, “Please, please. I-I want, fuck no, I need this. Please, fuck—”

Your pleas are cut short the moment Donghyuck gives in, lapping at you with an unquenchable thirst and insatiable hunger. It’s so sudden that it gives you whiplash, and he has to grip your thighs to keep them spread a safe distance apart. He’s unstopping once he begins, tongue maneuvering as it pleases, roaming around freely though expertly. Had you known Donghyuck was as much bite as he was bark, you may have gave in to this much sooner than you did. Not only is he making you feel good, but he’s making you feel great. If you could taste heaven, it would be this.

Some moments pass, and the humiliating part is that it isn’t a lot of moments. Your thighs are trembling more with every lick, resulting in Donghyuck’s grip around your thighs to tighten out of consideration that you might successfully slip out of his grasp. You stomach turns, flips, and you’re vision is being clouded white, so close to an orgasm that it hurts. Donghyuck senses it, you know that he can, you can feel the arrogant smirk spreading across his lips once more. Just as you’re getting so close, as your orgasm is right there in arms reach, being dangled in front of you by a string, he snatches it away.

There’s yet another whine from you, but he answers your question before you even get the chance to ask, “Want you to cum when I fuck you, baby.”

Donghyuck removed his boxers, leaving them on the ground to be cared about later. His erection springs flat against his stomach in a way that makes you so suddenly inhale a breath, and you clench around absolutely nothing at all. You’re gawking at him as though you want to eat hm, and in a sense you do, but you can’t be blamed. It looks better than you could’ve ever imagined, decent length, decent girth. The real brag-worthy factor, however, is if he knows what to do with what god has blessed him with.

His dick nudges your slit. “Ready?”

Without wasting an eighth of second you give him the go-ahead, nodding your head at instance so fast it almost hurts your neck. He reacts equally as fast, prodding his dick between your folds and eventually your walls. It stretches you out perfectly, and the moment he’s in you Donghyuck’s moaning about how tight and wet you are. He takes a moment for himself before he starts to move, gliding in and out of you in an effortless motion.

So far, Donghyuck has lived up perfectly to your imagination and expectations, much better, even. You never would’ve thought he’d actually have the right to brag about how good he is in bed, but you see it now. He’s a god even, not that you’d ever tell him that to his face.

“So pretty, wish I could have gotten to you sooner. Always telling me that you hate me yet letting me fuck you like this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve always wanted this,” Donghyuck says into your ear, and pecks your neck. “Are you always this needy? So desperate that you’ll let even me fuck you?”

“G-god, yes,” you don’t care about overpriding him anymore, just saying things because you aren’t in the right mind to care about anything other than his dick right now.

“Yeah?” He smirks. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

You’re almost too fucked out to speak, just moaning and whimpering in a way you never thought you would for him, “Feels good, so… so good. Love it.”

If you were in the right mind to have shame, you’d be embarrassed by the way your number-one enemy is making you moan, and not just because of the volume, but because it’s his name your moaning so pathetically. Choruses of “Hyuck” sounding from you in plethoras, calling his name with no actual reason. You’re breathing in little shallow, quick breaths, too, mouth agape as your whimpers tumble into the air. It helps that Donghyuck’s also surprisingly vocal, calling your name back. To say the least, the way he moans your name is hot and gets you off a little more, in spite of you not needing the help. He has it all on his own, fucking into you deep and hard.

Donghyuck gropes your body too, heightening your pleasure by fumbling with your breasts or rubbing your clit with one of his free hands. He doesn’t focus on one particular part of you, showering your figure with pleasure and attention that makes the sex a billion times better.

“Can I choke you?” He asks, and the question catches you a little off-guard, but once you shake off the surprise, you give him permission.

Donghyuck’s hands slither around your neck, and he presses into your jaw with just enough force to make you look at him, and silently communicate that he wants you to keep your eyes him and his actions. His fingers press onto the sides of your throat, and you’re not sure what is a bigger turn on, the fact that he knows how to properly do it or the action itself. You think it’s a bit of both, you enjoy the thrill as you look defeated by your inability breathing, and the dark look in his eyes tells you that he enjoys it too, staring straight into your soul, watching you fail to take a breath.

He doesn’t loosen his grip on your throat as he commands, “Open your mouth.”

You aren’t in the mind to question anything, simply following instructions. His mouth hovers above yours, lips parting to spit in your mouth. The action takes you by surprise yet again, but you swallow almost instinctively, never looking away from him as you do.

He backs away once satisfied, smiling. “So good for me, baby.”

That makes you clench around him, which also brings Donghyuck the satisfaction of a moan or two. He loves the way you clench around him when he says things to you, a telltale sign that you’re enjoying this more than he knows you’d probably like to admit. This whole thing between you and him, him and you is that you’re too stubborn to admit your desire. It prides him that he finally managed to make you confess it, to admit that you’re no different from anybody else. That he can still get under your skin, and does a fairly good job at that. Not only does it make him feel good about himself, but it makes him feel good right now. Your reactions, all your moans and your fucked out face, the whimpering and the begging, it all gets him off more.

That knot in your stomach is forming again, and he has you clenching around him regularly soon afterwards, and he can tell that this time, it’s not because of his words. It’s because you’re about to orgasm. “I’m close,” you announce, once again feeling all the flips and turns twisting about in your gut. It’s a good thing Donghyuck’s close too, being obvious from the way his thrusts aren’t as smooth as they initially were.

“Me, too. C’mon baby, give it to me,” he urges you on, and you let him drive you to the edge.

He makes you see white again, vision fogging the color and your voice a high-pitched moan of his name as you climax, grinding your hips into his as you intend to ride out your orgasm. In some high, trance-like state, you’re not sure when he cums, but you know that it wasn’t that much longer after you did, and then he slid out, flopping beside you on the mattress. You lie there in near-silence that consists of nothing but heavy breathing, wondering to yourself if this actually happened. You don’t regret it, not now anyways, and it was definitely a satisfying way to break your dry spell, but now you’re starting to question if it was a bad decision. He hasn’t even asked if—

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asks, seemingly needing a moment to catch his breath before he could gather words.

His words cut through your thoughts, leaving you to accept that maybe he’s not that much of an asshole. It’s the bare minimum, so he’s still an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m good.”

“Good,” he grins. “So, you wanna ditch this party and go get some Chinese food? I’m starving.”

“You want to go get food with me?” you say, sounding wholly and utterly surprised and unconvinced. This man spends every other day of his life bothering you, and now he wants to pick up some food with you?

“I mean, if you don’t want free Chinese food that I’m paying for with my money, then fine, suit yourself, I’ll just get it by my—”

“No!” You interject, sitting up immediately as you scan the room for your clothes. “I’m down. Kinda hungry, too.”

“Good,” Donghyuck says. “Chop, chop. We don’t have all night, they close in like less than an hour from now.”

Standing out of bed to put your clothes on, you consider to yourself that maybe you’ve assumed a lot about him without getting to know him. He’s definitely got an ego on him, that a blind man can tell, but he’s not really an asshole.

“Yo, I just realized something.”

“What?”

Donghyuck smiles bashfully, “I don’t have my wallet on me.”

Nevermind. He’s one-hundred percent definitely an asshole.

#lee haechan smut #haechan smut #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct

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reminiscingtonight · 5 months

Note

arsenal, hoodies and hickies for tobin! (bonus if shes still playing for them and maybe dating someones sibling)

Spill The Tea (Alessia Russo x Press!Reader)

A/N: changed the req a bit bc there is no Tobin without Christen so I made the reader Christen’s sibling

“Is this something I’m going to need to tell Christen or can I trust you to be a responsible adult?”

There’s this thing with Tobin. Ever since she started dating your sister all those years ago, she’s really slipped into the role of the fourth older sister you don’t need.

While she isn’t as nitpicky as Tyler and Christen or as interrogative as Channing, Tobin still liked to harp on you quite a lot. So you’ve heard this question come out of her mouth more times than you can count. And by now you know better than to expect Tobin to keep a secret from Christen.

You tilt your head towards her, a singular eyebrow raising up in question as your arms stay halfway through your training shirt. Of all times Tobin could’ve started a conversation of course she had to wait until you were quite literally trapped with nowhere to escape.

“Why do you think I have anything to tell you?”

“You have a hickey the size of Maine on your neck.”

You follow her eyes down to your skin. Your still very bruised skin.

The memory of mischievous eyes sparkling as you tried to sneak out this morning flashes clearly through your mind as you hastily pull on a neck warmer from your cubby.

You can still feel Tobin’s eyes on the side of your face as you try to busy yourself pulling on the last of your clothes.

“You’re seeing someone, don’t lie.”

“And why do you think so?” You look up to see Tobin giving you a look. You roll your eyes. “Apart from the hickey.”

“You’re really going to make me play detective today?” When you don’t respond Tobin lets out an annoyed grunt. “Where to start? Well you’ve been sneaking in at 6 in the morning for the past couple of weeks.”

It’s not your fault you haven’t been given a drawer yet. Frankly the number of times you’ve stayed over should’ve already gotten you a place to store your things but Alessia’s been extremely paranoid about letting you leave traces of yourself at hers. Something about how her England teammates like coming over unannounced. A lot. Better to keep no trace of you at her place lest a blabbermouth blabbers too much.

“And changing your phone password? Not cool, dude.”

You cringe at the memory of Tobin storming into your room at half past twelve the other day, exasperated at the fact that a). you weren’t up and making her breakfast yet, and b). she couldn’t get into your phone to doordash some food.

You and Tobin shared everything. Cooking duties. The occasional snapback. Your phone passwords. But that last one was the first thing you changed when you started seeing Alessia.

“And finally, this,” Tobin pokes at the light blue hoodie peeking out of your duffle, “is not yours.”

You try ducking under her arm to get out of the locker room but Tobin grabs a firm hold of your training top, jerking you back towards her.

You’re nose to nose now and the forward has no problem using her height advantage to stare you down. “I’ll ask again. Who have you been locking lips with?”

You scowl. “Well you’re playing detective today right? Guess.”

Tobin’s lips pinch shut, a displeased look on her face.

Before she can retaliate, a brief call of her name by Kim has Tobin turning away. When her hands loosen their hold, you bolt, taking full advantage of Tobin’s brief dip of attention.

Unbeknownst to you, a pair of blue eyes follow you out of the room.

It isn’t until you’re already stretching on the sideline that long legs catch up to you. A soft smile breaks onto your face at the sight of other girl, hands opening and closing as you mime at her to come closer for a kiss.

For a second you think Alessia's going to crumble to your demands.

And then you see her panicked expression.

“Did Tobin figure out we’re dating?”

Sighing, you push yourself off the ground, taking care to brush grass off your legs. “No, Tobin’s smart but she isn’t that smart.”

Alessia gives you a look that has you wondering if she’s offended on the behalf of the striker.

You roll your eyes before giving her a light shove. “Relax, all she saw was your hoodie. She’s not going to know it’s yours.”

Alessia’s eyes widen at the mention of the sweatshirt you snuck out of her house this morning. Usually it’s cute and all and she really does love seeing you in her clothes, but faced with the fact that it’s branded with the UNC logo on the front? Or the fact that Tobin knows you followed in Christen’s footsteps and went to Stanford instead of Chapel Hill?

“My hoodie? Babe! Of course she’s going to know it’s mine!”

“Relax,” you repeat, hands coming up to rub at her tense shoulders. “There are four of you who played at UNC who are on the team now. She’ll be too busy trying to figure out if it’s you, Lotte, or Foxy to ever find the real culprit.”

If anything, your words only seem to agitate her more. Alessia slaps your hands away, arms crossing over her chest. “You’d rather Tobin think you’re dating Lotte or Em over me?”

Safe to say, any words you try to defend yourself with only digs you deeper into the hole.

Tobin’s pleasantly surprised to see you moping on the couch later that night.

It doesn't take as long as you’re expecting for Tobin to figure it out.

You’re doing your weekly check-in with your sister a couple days later when Christen’s face suddenly widens into a teasing smirk.

“So Tobin tells me you have a new girlfriend.”

You resist the urge to fling your phone across the room. Instead, you do the mature thing and hang up the phone.

Christen doesn’t look impressed when she calls back and you pick up.

“Oh don’t be a wuss. There’s nothing you can do without me knowing. So spill. Tell me all about her.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Really, Chris? This is what you want to talk about?”

Even from a continent away you can see the megawatt smile being sent your way. “Couldn’t take my number so you had to take out a girl who has it too, huh?”

Tobin cringes in her room when she hears the telltale sound of your phone crashing against the wall.

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #3wp #Ace writes

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msschemmenti · 1 month

Text

Blabbermouth Junior

Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Prompt: Reader is Henry’s Fifth Grade teacher and at his graduation he puts a little plan into action

JJ smiled softly as she smoothed the tiny gown over her son’s shoulders. She really couldn’t believe her first kid was heading to middle school. It felt like just yesterday a nurse had handed him over in a hospital room. Time flew, and she was honestly just so grateful to experience these moments with him. After ensuring the team wouldn’t have any cases this weekend, she and the team were all piling into the Elementary school gymnasium to watch one of their BAU kids move on to their next step.

“Oh Henry, you look so cute. I can’t believe you’re going to middle school. My baby.” JJ pouted as she smoothed her hands over the boy’s head.

“Mom,” Henry whined but allowed his mom the freedom to fawn over her son. He looked around at his classmates a bit self-consciously but secretly loved having his mother there with him on such a big day.

“Alright, friends! Let’s tell our families ‘see you later’ and start lining up.” A cheery voice called over the room, drawing everyone’s attention. JJ followed the sound of the voice and was shocked to see a young woman dressed in yellow at the end of the hallway. Her arms were extended toward the children in the hall and she had the kindest smile JJ had ever seen. All the other children hurried down the hallway toward the gym and as much as Henry wanted to follow, JJ’s hands had yet to leave his face.

Garcia, who’d come to the back to snap pictures of her godson, studied JJ closely. She watched how the blondes eyes shifted from the woman’s face to her legs and quickly back. She definitely didn’t miss the way she was still holding Henry’s face either. With a knowing smirk she nudged JJ and looked down at Henry with a smile. “Hen, is that your teacher?”

“Yeah, Ms. Y/Ln is the best.” Henry grinned up at Penelope before looking over his shoulder to the smiling teacher.

“I bet so. Sweet, you’ve gotta stop staring at the cute teacher so the boy can go line up.” Garcia grinned, practically shoving JJ out of admiration. She scoffed indignantly before smoothing her hands over Henry’s hair one last time and letting him go.

“I wasn’t staring at the cute teacher. I just can’t believe my baby is growing up.” JJ fumbled for words. Garcia rolled her eyes in disbelief but pinched Henry’s cheek affectionately.

“Henry? You ready, bud?” Ms.Y/Ln asked as she sidled up to the three blondes left in the hallway.

“Yes ma’am, if my mom is ready to let me go…” Henry teased causing JJ to roll her eyes and the other two women to laugh.

“Awe, Henry be nice to your mom. Graduating fifth grade is a big deal. Pretty soon you’ll be off to college.” Ms. Y/Ln spoke pulling the graduation hat from her side on Henry’s head and allowing him to sprint down the hall toward the other students..

“Oh don’t remind me, I’m going to be even worse then.” JJ whined, placing her hand over her heart.

“Let’s take it one day at a time sweet. I’ll take the emotional mother out to the gym so we can watch our little man walk the stage. So sorry for the hold up, Miss?” Garcia asked sweetly.

“Oh where are my manners, I’m Ms. Y/Ln, Y/Fn Y/Ln.” The teacher smiled extending her hand briefly toward the tech analyst.

“Penelope Garcia, the Godmother of all Godmothers. And this is Jennifer Jareau, Henry’s super mom.”

“It’s great to meet you both. I’ve heard quite a bit about you Mrs. Jareau, Henry’s very fond of you.” Y/n smiled, sending JJ a wink.

“Miss,” JJ corrected unconsciously. “And I can say the same about you. He’s been raving about you all year long, it’s really nice to finally put a face to a name.”

Y/n smiled sweetly in thanks before looking to her watch for the time, “That warms my heart. We’re gonna get started in about a minute and I don’t want y’all to miss anything. I’ll remind Henry to smile real big when he walks.”

“That would be great, come on Jayje I need to make sure Morgan got us good seats. Nice chatting with ya Teach!” Garcia called over her shoulder pulling JJ down the hall and toward the gym. JJ sent the teacher an apologetic smile before allowing Garcia to lead her to the ceremony. Both women squeezed through the other parents and family members to sit in their seats between the team.

“There you guys are, what took so long?” Emily asked leaning over to look at the two women.

“JJ was ogling Henry’s teacher.” Garcia answered. All heads turned to face the mother in a combination of shock and intrigue.

“I was not ogling.” JJ protested.

“Oh she so was. Just wait until you see her, you’ll all understand.” Garcia grinned as everyone chuckled at JJ’s expense.

“Congratulations Henry!” Y/n smiled down at the boy as he rushed into the classroom.

“Thank you Ms. Y/Ln.” Henry grinned up at the teacher. He’d always been pretty fond of his teacher. She really made the transition to fifth grade so easy for him and he was surely gonna miss her.

“Are you excited to be going to middle school?” Y/n asked as she watched and waved at parents and children exiting the room.

“Yeah, I guess.” Henry answered.

“You don’t sound too sure bud. What’s up?” Y/n asked squatting next to the the desk the boy was sitting on.

“I’m just gonna miss having you as my teacher.” Henry confessed.

“Well I get that kid, they probably won’t be as cool as me. But if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think I’ll have any students as cool as you either.” Y/n teased ruffling his blonde hair maternally. Henry grinned at the praise and kicked his feet from the desk.

“There’s our graduate!” Morgan called entering into the classroom. The remaining children and parents turned to watch as the team of Profilers filed in with gifts. They all scooped up the young boy with congratulations flying around. Y/n slowly floated over to her desk to give the group some privacy.

As the team fawned over Henry, JJ found herself searching for Ms. Y/Ln unconsciously. As subtle as she thought she was being, she knew she was caught when Emily siddled up next to her sporting a knowing smirk. “She is pretty cute. I see why you were ogling.”

“Oh God, not you too.” JJ groaned turning away from the teacher.

“I’m just saying, she’s no longer Henry’s teacher and from what I’ve heard– Henry is pretty fond of her as well. Wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to her.” Emily encouraged.

Before JJ could even respond, Henry was at her feet with a smile on his face. “Mom can I give Ms. Y/Ln the gift I got her before we leave?”

“Of course honey,” JJ smiled fishing the card and candy out of her purse and handing it to Henry.

“I’ll be quick.” He promised and then made a beeline for the teacher’s desk. “Ms. Y/Ln, I got you this gift and just wanted to give it to you before I left.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in glee as she took the card and candy from one of her favorite students, “Oh Henry, that’s so sweet. Thank you so much and you remembered my favorite candy.”

“Yeah my mom let me buy it.” Henry answered. By now JJ had turned her attention to the two and was making her way over to them slowly.

“Well that’s very sweet of her.” Y/n said catching JJ’s movement in her peripheral.

“She also thinks you’re cute.” Henry threw in causing both Y/n’s and JJ’s eyes to widen comically. JJ was so shocked she even stopped walking briefly.

Y/n blushed and giggled, “Oh?”

JJ jumped into action and placed her hands on Henry’s shoulders before he could continue speaking. JJ and Y/n’s eyes locked and the embarrassment was burning behind both of their eyes. “Henry…” JJ sighed with a grimace. She went to deny and save face but she could hear Emily’s voice in the back of her head. It was already out, what was the harm in at least talking to her? “Well, I’d hoped I could tell you myself but Henry seems to have beat me to it.”

“Someone had to say it.” Garcia piped in from the group now listening.

“Shut up Garcia.” JJ grumbled. “Henry go hang with the team.”

“Of course mom.” Henry grinned going over to stand with Penelope, who highfived him in triumph.

“Well Ms. Jareau, I’m extremely flattered. Even if Henry told me first.” Y/n smiled and leaned her head on her fist.

JJ blushed a bit and ducked her head, “God I love that kid.”

“He is rather special. Oh and if it wasn’t clear, I find you pretty cute as well.” JJ’s head popped up in shock and the blush returned with a vengeance. Y/n grabbed a sticky note from her desk and scribbled her number down. “Summers here and from what I’ve heard you’re pretty busy. How bout you give me a call when your free? I’d love to get to know you a bit better.”

The group of profilers very childishly whistles and ‘oooo’ at the interaction and JJ could only roll her eyes before accepting the number with a promise to use it. They all said their goodbyes and just as they were about to exit the school JJ pulled her son into her side.

“You don’t mind any of that with Ms. Y/Ln right? Cause if you do I won’t–” Before she could finish Henry wrapped her arm around her waist.

“Oh I’m excited. I thought of the plan before the graduation started but I didn’t know if it’d work.” Henry grinned.

“God I love you kid.” JJ sighed and pulled him toward the car. Middle School is not ready for her boy.

#jennifer jareau #criminal minds #jennifer jareau x reader #criminal minds x reader #msschemmenti

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amethysts-tavern · 10 months

Text

So I had this random thought about Astarion eavesdropping on a conversation you were having about him. His big elf ears would make it easy for him. And so I present:

“Sweet dreams.”

“You can’t tell him,” you look pleadingly at Karlach. “Pinky-promise me that you won’t say anything to anyone about this.”

“Sure, sure,” she says, dismissing your demand, but offering you her pinky.

“Are you sharing secrets without me?” Gale says, jauntily approaching your tent. “What about?”

“It’s nothing,” you reply, shooting daggers at Karlach.

“Someone,” Karlach looks directly at you, “may have had a racy dream about someone else,” she turns her head to indicate Astarion across camp.

“KARLACH!! You pinky-promised not to tell anyone!”

“I didn’t mention any names!” she retorts in her own defense. All you can do is bury your face in your hands and scream in sheer embarrassment.

“Don’t you worry, your secret is safe with me,” Gale pantomimes zipping his lip. “But tell me, exactly how racy are we talking?” Gale asks, giving you an interested look. “I need to know all the details. Strictly for academic purposes, of course.”

You let out an exasperated whimper as you watch Karlach whisper in Gale’s ear all the horny details you shared with her about your dream. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as each moment passes. Gale’s eyes go wide as Karlach nears the end of her sharing.

“Oh… oh! My, my…” Gale exclaims. “Tav! You naughty little creature! I wouldn’t have figured you for the kinky type!” He gives you a wink.

“Please, I’m begging you both. This doesn’t go any further than the three of us,” you’re practically on your knees pleading with them.

“Tav, you’re really embarrassed by this,” Gale finally notices. “Think no more of it. Your secret is safe with us,” Gale gives Karlach a death look to let her know he means business.

“Thank you,” you say, quietly. The flush in your cheeks finally subsiding.

“Come on, Karlach, let’s let Tav have some peace,” the wizard says, grabbing the tiefling to lead her away from your tent.

You watch them go. For all of the frustration they give you, they are good friends. As you turn to enter your tent to get out of sight of your party members, else you die of further embarrassment, you hear another voice calling your name.

“So, Tav, I hear you’ve been having some interesting dreams lately.” Astarion drawls, sauntering over.

You feel your breath catch. You look around camp to find the blabbermouth. Astarion cups your chin and turns your head so that you are looking only at him.

“No one has betrayed you, darling,” his eyes sharp and penetrating. “Elf ears. I heard everything.”

“Everything?” you ask timidly.

“Everything,” he repeats, dropping his voice low, and stepping closer to you, his hands now on your hips, pulling your body up against his. He plants a passionate kiss on your lips, catching you off guard. He sighs contentedly as he releases you and steps back.

“Sweet dreams, Tav,” he says seductively. He flashes you a sultry smile before turning on his heels and heading back to his own tent.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion romance #astarion x reader

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eluminium · 2 years

Text

Impulse is the least smooth mf I’ve ever seen. Man basically went: "Oh I have to goooo earlier then normal...usually i share all i do my life with you guys but not today today is a secret....lets raid Martyn then- OHHHH he's ending?? Same time as me??? how weird...how strange...totally not related...Tango isn't streaming either huh...welp we'll raid joker and call it a day ;)" This man is a blabbermouth who can’t lie for shit and we love him for it. No wonder he comitted so hard to the homewrecker bit. “This is why my wife married me. Because I’m bad at lying” <- idk this is just funny.

#HE'S SUCH A BLABBERMOUTH #HE CANNOT SHUT UP FOR 1 SECOND #AND HES SUCH A BAD ACTIVE LIAR IEGJOEIGESGHSE #WE LOVE HIM SO MUCH #ANYWAYS FREAKING OUT ON THE DASHBOARD I SEE #SAME MAN. SAME #impulsesv #trafficblr #traffic series #3rd life #last life #double life #life series #new life series HYPEE #dose of impulse

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httpscomexe · 1 month

Note

Please make an uncomfortable elevator one where she’s trapped with Logan, but she’s got Wades personality

Blabbermouth

Logan Howlett x Avenger!Reader

1339 words.

Warnings: Blood, mention of child death, sadness, hiding emotions.

(Wade, Logan, and reader are all Avengers in this)

I don't know I think this was horrible but anyways

“See ya.”

“See ya honey cheeks.” Wade walks out of the elevator, leaving you alone in the little box.

As soon as you’re alone, you let a single tear fall, and you look down at the ground, kicking at nothing with your blood covered boots.

Another successful, bloody, gruesome mission complete.

You were relieved your next mission wouldn’t be until next week, but it wouldn’t be any better than today's mission which was packed with blood, only the presence of your favourite mercenary was there to keep you comforted.

Your only friend.

The only one who really knew you.

The elevator door opens five floors before it should reach your floor, and as you throw on a smile, a rather grumpy face is there to greet you. Wolverine. Or Logan, as he’s told you to call him. Of course, you have a different nickname.

“Hey Wolvie, how’s it going?”

“Stop calling me that.” Was all he told you, stepping into the elevator, keeping as far away from you as possible. He’s never liked you. Apparently, you’re like a spitting replica of Wade's personality. What makes it worse is he couldn’t stab you when you were annoying like he could with Wade, unfortunately you aren’t exactly able to regenerate limbs.

“So grumpy.”

“Shut up.”

“Wade did tell me it’s that time of the month for you.” Your eyes move to his, and he looks even more pissed than before. But it was true, he’s been more pissed than normal today.

“Should’ve taken the stairs.” He mumbles to himself as the elevator doors close. Now there was no escape for him.

“And miss out on little old me?”

“That exactly.” He growls.

“Oh I ain’t that bad.”

“You’re fucking horrible.”

“Wade’s worse.”

“Sometimes you are, and right now, you’re the worst.”

You turn away from him, the elevator number rising by one floor.

“You're lucky you missed Wade then.” You tell him, staring at the wall. “He wouldn’t stop talking about Mario.” You shrug. “I guess that’s his interest today.”

“Haven’t I asked you to shut up?”

“Not nicely.”

“Please, shut the fuck up.”

“That wasn’t much different.”

Then the elevator shakes as it stops, jolting you both backwards against the furthest wall from the doors. It fucking stopped? You were in a multibillion dollar building and the elevator breaks?

“Oh you’re fucking joking.” He growls, then walks to the doors and puts all of his strength in to pry the doors open. Of course, all that was there was a brick wall.

He looks up, and the ceiling of course is metal.

Then the lights turn off, and the little area is only illuminated by the bright buttons with numbers on them. Of course, there also wasn’t a fucking emergency button. Damn you Stark.

“I’m sure it won’t last long.” You tell him.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I’m just being optimistic.”

“And I’m thinking optimistic, make it true.”

You purse your lips together, today wasn’t the day for you to bother talking to Logan.

“Of course, the one fucking time the elevator breaks down it’s with you in it.” You bite your lip a little, a stupid joke comes to your mind, and you open your mouth to say it, but instead, a broken sort of cry comes out, a knot forming in your throat.

Pulling your phone out, you try to text Wade, hoping he could call security to let them know the elevator is down, but of course, you have no service.

“Are you able to call someone?” You shake your head, knowing if you speak that you’ll start to cry, so you just shove your phone back in your pocket, your hands following. “Doesn’t Wade know you’re in here?” You nod. “You gonna fucking talk?”

“You told me to shut up.” Your voice is quiet, and in the darkness you see his eyes squint in confusion.

“Yea and since when the fuck does that work?”

“I think it’s your turn to shut up Logan.” You don’t face him, knowing one more word would make your tears fall. You did not have enough energy in you to sustain another insult today.

“Logan?” Your eyes found him again, and he could see you weren’t pissed, rather something else. “You don’t ever call me that, what’s wrong?”

“Please stop talking to me.” Your voice cracks when you say please, and you play it off by clearing your throat. Then you notice how he looks you up and down, studying you. Covered in blood from neck to toe, with some generous splashes of blood on your cheek as well. But you were careful not to get any in your hair. It wasn’t fun to wash out when it bunched up.

“Did Wade piss you off?” You don’t answer him. “Was it me?” You continue not to speak, your eyes staring into the wall. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It wasn’t you.” You tell him, hoping to shut him up.

“Well I doubt it was Wade.”

“Please-”

“Don’t.” He interrupts you, then walks closer to you. “Tell me what’s going on? Was it your mission?” You swallow. Then you nod. Might as well since you’re stuck with him.

“Didn’t go to plan…” You breathe out.

“I was told it went perfectly.”

“Maybe from the agent's point of view, it wasn't so pretty from mine.”

“Since when has blood bothered you?”

“Since it was a childs…”

He snaps his mouth shut. Yea, you were just like Wade, but you were just a kid. Not even twenty years old, but you were forced to work with the Avengers anyways. According to Fury, you had too much power to just casually wander the streets.

You jump a little. His arms wrapping around you in a hug.

“Lo-”

“Shh…” He continues to hold you, and you hesitate for a moment before returning the hug. Your arms loose around his waist at first. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what had happened.”

You squeeze him tighter, the side of your head pushed against his chest as tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“I know how you feel.” He tells you, his voice so soft, it was something you’d never expect. “You might’ve won the mission… but it all feels so wrong when someone innocent…” He pauses, holding you tighter as you cry. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

You’re both quiet, just hugging in the dark as you wait for someone to find out the elevator was down. Neither of you knew how long that could take.

“I was coming up to see you?” What? You didn’t even think about it before. He was five floors under you, but he was going up. He didn’t have a room on your floor.

“Why?”

“Just to talk…” He admits, and you’re so confused.

“You don’t like talking to me though Logan…”

“Yes, I do.” He tells you, leaning back a little as his hands cup your face. “I love talking to you, it’s Wade that’s the damned blabbermouth. But I know there’s more to you than that. You’re not all jokes.” He gently moves some of your fallen hair behind your ear. “You actually know when to take things seriously unlike him.” You chuckle a little. It was true.

“I still annoy you.” You remember him telling you it one day, and it’s never left your mind.

“Everyone does. But for some reason…” His thumb moves across your cheek, wiping a tear from your face. “I hate to admit it here and at this moment, but you’re the one person who I don’t mind annoying me.” He tells you, making the corner of your lips curl a little in a soft smile.

“Oh…” You sniffle a little… “I thought- I thought you hated me.”

“I can never hate you, Y/N.” He pulls you in again, another hug, it feels lighter, more heartfelt. “And don’t ever call me Logan again.” He whispers, the elevator lights turning on again as he speaks, making you look around a little.

“It’s Wolvie to you.”

#marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #wade wilson #xmen #avengers

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chchanging · 2 years

Text

I’m not gonna lie, for almost the entirety of my first playthrough I could not stop picturing Roach as Seth Green

#the passenger #tp roach #blabbermouth #I think it’s just their vibe but even now sometimes I notice it happening #I’m like not entirely mad at it because I had a crush when I was a kid but still it’s funny to me #spent the entire time rattling my brain like a piggy bank trying to get the image OUT

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interstellarlyinlove · 4 months

Text

Established Relationship (May 20th)

word count: 683

@wolfstarmicrofic

“What do you mean? What’s there not to like about summer?” Sirius asks, looking at Remus from above the book he’s reading. The book the both of them are reading, actually, except Remus is a quicker reader so now he has to wait until Sirius finishes to be able to talk to him about it.

“The stickiness of it all,” Remus says, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder and closing his eyes. They’re sitting under their favorite tree near the Black Lake and today is their last day in Hogwarts until next September. Sirius is spending the summer with Remus and his family.

“When else am I going to spend my days eating ripe fruit and wearing too-short shorts? Summer is great.”

Remus smiles. “Sure. If you say so. You're burnt for three months straight, though.”

“I would’ve been too powerful if I had the ability to tan and not burn.”

Remus laughs. “Yeah, that does make me feel better about you being unfairly gorgeous. At least you can’t tan.”

“The universe gave me a boyfriend that tans beautifully though, so I’m not complaining.” Sirius looks at Remus. “You’re unfairly gorgeous.”

Remus’ favorite thing in all the universe is Sirius complimenting him. Still, he makes a face. “Gross.”

Sirius closes his book. Remus raises an eyebrow. “You are never going to finish that book, Godric. I swear you have until tomorrow before I spoil it for–”

“What do you want to do?” Sirius asks, kissing Remus’ cheek.

Remus blinks. “Like, right now? I want to read to you, maybe make out a little bit, you know how it is.”

Sirius laughs Remus’ favorite laugh. “Sure. I mean, I’d love to. I just meant, like, later. Like, next summer.”

“Next summer?”

“There’s no more Hogwarts after next summer.”

“Ah,” Remus says. Next year is their last at Hogwarts. “That’s a little terrifying, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“I think I’d like to teach,” Remus says, then he flushes. “I mean, if I could. A werewolf teacher sounds pretty horrible, doesn’t it?”

Sirius flicks Remus’ temple. “I hate it when you say things like that. You’d be an amazing teacher. Academia looks too good on you, moonstone.”

Remus might die. Having Sirius believe in him even more than he believes in himself is something that is so dear to his heart. He wants to tell Sirius this but he flicks Sirius’ temple instead. “You’re sweet. You’d be an amazing healer.”

Sirius looks at him funny. “How do you know what I want to do, and I don’t know that about you?”

“I’m a better boyfriend,” Remus says, grinning. “Also, everyone knows everything about you because you are a professional blabbermouth.”

“I am not.”

“It’s cute.”

“I do not talk a lot,” Sirius says. “I will take a vow of silence right now.”

Remus laughs. “Don’t! Your blabbering is my favorite thing about you.”

“How romantic,” Sirius says. His voice is monotone but Remus knows he’s trying not to laugh.

“I’m excited about living with you. After school”

“You want to live with me?” Sirius asks, and he sounds sincere.

“No, I don’t, actually,” Remus says, and he flicks Sirius’ temple again because how can he not? “Don’t be stupid. Who else would I live with?”

Sirius’ smile is the sun. “I love that you love me. It’s my favorite thing.”

Remus’ heartstrings tug. “Why do you say things like that? Godric.” He pauses. “You loving me is my favorite thing, too. Whatever.”

“We need to learn how to break into vaults.”

“Sure.”

“I need to steal some of my family’s money. Really. I wasn’t thinking about buying a flat before getting disowned. I should’ve toned it down a little bit. Did you know I officially got disowned on a stupid Tuesday night while making new paper from old scraps of paper? It’s a whole thing where you shred it and then dunk it in water and wet tiny scraps of paper have such a weird texture. Anyway, It came out of nowhere, really. The disowning, not the paper making.”

Remus laughs. “You are such a blabbermouth.”

#I love them together with allllll my heart like how cute they're made for each other <333333333333 #I am a healer!Sirius truther at my core #I forgot to post this on the 20th lol but it's here now :)))#remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #wolfstar drabble #marauders era #my writing

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waratah-vroom · 1 year

Text

Question Mark (ln4)

✨ join waratah's (over) 100 follower celebration ✨ Made to order for sweet anon

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content, implied smut

Tagged: yourfriend Liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 15,481 others ynrussell00: happier than ever

Lando didn't drink during the season, he never had. Which is why you were so surprised to see him at the hotel bar the night before the race, settling himself onto the barstool next to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“A girl can’t get a drink alone?”

“She can, but she shouldn’t. What are you drinking, I’ll get you another.” He waved the bartender over and you told him your order.

“That’s awfully nice of you, Norris. They must be paying you the big bucks if you can afford to buy a $12 vodka tonic at the drop of a hat.”

He grined. You’d always liked Lando’s smile, the way it was slightly lopsided and showed the gap between his front teeth. It was the same smile he’d had since he was a kid.

“Alex told me you and Jack broke up.”

“Alex is a blabbermouth,” you didn’t look at him, too focused on stirring the ice cubes in your empty cup.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“I’m fine. I broke up with him. There’s no hard feelings.”

He nudged your shoulder with his own, “I bet he has some hard feelings.” You raised your eyebrows at what must have been an intentional joke and he quickly said, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean he must have been a dick to lose you.”

“He was dick. Or at least he was sticking his dick in places where his dick didn’t belong so-”

“What a wanker.” You both thanked the bartender when he put your drink on a coaster in front of you and took away the empty glass.

“If you want to be nice then sure he was a wanker. I’d call him a cunt.”

Lando huffed, resting his chin on his hand. “Well I never liked him.”

“George said the same thing,” you took a sip of your drink and saw him watching you.

You’d known Lando for a long time, as long as George had been racing against him, but you’d never say you two were friends. He’d asked you for help getting his ex-girlfriend a present once, but that’s as far as your friendship stretched. “As much as I love talking to you, you don’t usually come to me unless you want something.”

“I feel like that’s a little unfair,” when he saw your blank expression he folded. “Okay, fine. I was thinking since we’re both single.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe we could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words inside your head before you turned your body so you’re fully facing him. “Just so I understand you correctly, you're wanting to have sex, right?”

“Yes.”

“Because we’re both single.”

“Yep.”

That was not what you had been expecting him to ask when he’d sat down next to you. “And I’m how far down the line of girls you’ve propositioned?”

“You’re the first.” When you didn't respond, he added, “I was planning on hitting up Charlotte if you didn’t work out- ow!” His lips fell into a pout and he gripped his shoulder where you’d hit him. “I’m joking, I’m joking.” He dropped his hand back onto the counter and begun twisting his bracelets. “At least tell me you’re considering it.”

You bit your lip, thinking. It’d been a couple of months since you’d had sex and you were getting frustrated. You knew Lando so it wouldn’t be awkward, and he was cute. You’d also never had any complaints when you’d seen him shirtless. “I’m considering it.”

“One night,” he said. “I promise I’ll make you come.”

As much as you’d like to have thought your standards were high, apparently that simple promise was all it took for you to say “fine.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Lando had kept his promise and then some.

When you’d come out of the shower after round three you had expected him to have gone, but instead you’d found him fast asleep in your bed.

He was still there when you woke up; his arm slung over your chest and most of the duvet covering his body. His face was pressed against the pillow as he snored softly.

You hated to break his slumber when he looked so soft, but you were cold. “You’ve stolen the duvet.”

He mumbled something incoherent, his eyes still firmly shut.

“I’m freezing,” you tugged the duvet away from him and he startled, his eyes shooting open

“Huh? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You pulled the blanket up to your chin. “You’re just a blanket hog.”

“Oh, sorry,” he seemed to be a bit more awake, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the light streaming through the curtains. “What time is it?”

You tapped your phone on the nightstand and read “7:20.”

“Shit,” he jumped off the bed, fumbling to find his clothes. “I’m supposed to meet Carlos in ten minutes.”

“Downstairs?”

“He loves a hotel breakfast,” his laugh was shaky as he pulled his tee-shirt and hoodie over his head. He suddenly stopped when he saw you watching him. “Uh, so I had fun last night-”

You flattened your lips, trying to stop your smile. He was cute when he was flustered. “We don’t have to do this, Lando.”

“No, no, I want to. I really did have fun-”

“I mean we don’t have to do this right now. Go meet Carlos. I’ll see you after the race.”

His body relaxed. “Okay, okay. Good.” A strange look passed over his features, as if he was wrestling with an idea in his mind. He seemed to decide it was a good one because he reached across the bed and kissed you softly on the lips. “Wish me luck today?”

“Go,” you pushed his chest away, but you couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. “Good luck idiot.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Lando had barely shut your hotel room door when he came face to face with George Russell.

He dug his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and hoped he looked casual and not like he’d just woken up in someone else’s bed, “hey mate.”

“Hey,” George’s eyes darted from Lando to the room number on the door. Putting two and two together he said, “that’s my sister’s room.”

There wasn't much Lando could say apart from, “yeah.”

“What were you doing in my sister’s room?” George’s voice was oddly calm, he even managed a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

There are a few ways Lando could answer George’s question. He could say he was dropping something off or he was stopping by to ask something. Instead Lando chose to confirm George’s worst suspicions. “I don’t think you wanna know.”

George’s face dropped. “What?”

“I’d love to stay and chat, mate, but I’m meeting someone so-”

“You fuck my sister and now you’re leaving? That’s so typically Lando, isn’t it. Is this your way of trying to get into my head before the race?”

Lando really shouldn’t have but he couldn't help laughing at the ridiculousness of what George was implying. “You think I slept with your sister as some sort of mind game to try and psych you out?”

George’s fists balled at his sides. “It’s not going to work.”

Lando nodded, wildly confused as to what was going through the other man’s brain, “alright.”

“My mind is an impenetrable fortress.”

“Is that a quote Lewis sent to your group chat?” When George didn't answer, Lando patted his back and said, “I’ll see you on the grid, mate.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

“You fucked Norris?” Your brother didn't wait for you to answer before he pushed past you into your hotel room.

“Good morning to you too.”

“How could you do that? He’s my enemy!”

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” You’d heard him complain about Lando hundreds of times, and almost every time was an overreaction. Like right now.

“You don’t understand, he’s my biggest rival. He’s always been. This is the worst thing that could happen to me-”

“Me sleeping with a driver that has less points than you is the worst thing that could happen to you?”

“It’s not about the points, it's about him trying to mess with my head! That’s the only reason he’s done this. He’s using you to get to me.”

You loved George, you really did. But it was times like this, when his ego was so overinflated, that made it difficult. “You sound insane.”

“No, listen, you don’t get it-”

“Oh I think I get it alright,” you crossed your arms, wholly unimpressed with your brother’s attitude. “You think the only reason someone would be into me is to get to you.”

“Not someone. Him!”

“You don’t think there’s a chance that Lando just likes me, without it having anything to do with you?”

He shook his head, “why would Lando like you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Wow, thanks George, thanks a lot.”

“It’s Lando!” If you weren’t fuming, you’d have found his flailing hands funny.

“Yeah, Lando. I’ve known him since you’ve been karting. We’re friends.”

“I don’t trust him.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. “I think you should go. Get ready for the race. I’ll see you in the paddock.”

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The race didn’t go in George’s favour. He blamed Lando, but you knew that George had a habit of working himself up without anyone’s help. It was a mechanical issue that led to his early retirement, but George was convinced Lando was at fault.

Lando did well, managing P6 with the help of a cascade of retirements and restarts, and he was in a great mood when he found you at the hotel restaurant later that night.

“I didn’t catch you in the paddock.”

“George has been refusing to talk to me so I left early.”

His smile dimmed and he pulled up the chair opposite you. “I didn’t think he’d react like this. I didn’t think he’d find out at all, actually.”

You fiddled with the napkin on your lap and sighed, “it’s not your fault. He’s just being childish.”

“He really hates me, huh?” Lando never thought he and George were best friends, but he never thought the other man hated him.

“He’s intimidated by you.”

“By me?”

If George wanted to have beef with Lando, the least you could do is tell Lando it existed. “Yeah, he has been for ages. I don’t know if he still does but he used to have google alerts set up for your name.”

“Really?”

You nodded, “I think it started when you got the McLaren seat and he went to Williams, even though he won F2. He thinks he deserved a better seat than you.”

“I knew he wanted the Mercedes seat earlier than he got it, but I didn’t know he was jealous of me.”

“It’s stupid. The whole thing is just this stupid rivalry he’s imagined up in his head to try and justify his shitty rookie season. I love my brother, but god he’s dramatic,” you huffed and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You know what he said to me when I left your room this morning? My mind is an impenetrable fortress.”

“That’s one of his favourites.” You both stared at each other before you burst out in laughter, only stopping when your cheeks finally started to ache.

Silence eventually fell over the table and Lando broke it with a croaky “about this morning. I had a really good time with you, but I don’t want to come between you and George-”

“I don’t care what George thinks,” you cut him off. As much as your brother’s words dug into your gut, you knew they weren't true and you definitely weren't going to let them stop you from seeing Lando again.

“Okay good,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Because it would kill me if I never got to fuck you again.”

“Romantic,” your eyes sparkled and something inside your stomach sprung to life.

“You want romantic? Let me take you on a date.” He grinned when he added, “that’d really piss George off.”

If he wanted to play, you could play. “That’s the only reason you want to take me on a date?”

His grin turned sheepish, apparently he wasn't actually as good at this as he thought. “No. I also maybe kinda like being with you.”

You nudged his foot beneath the table. Smirking, you said, “careful, Norris, someone might think you’re falling for me.”

Lando was in trouble.

“Would that be so bad?”

read more of my writing here

ﾟ｡ ⋆ mags' radio: this one got away from me girlies... way longer than I expected but I had so much fun writing it! I am actually obsessed with the Russell!reader x Lando dynamic⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

taglist: @fulla02reads @lazybot @rd14 @camillalarke @cool-ultra-nerd @xeliaaaa @azxulaa @hrlzy @ghosttwit @booksobsess @formulakay3 (if you're not highlighted I couldn't tag you. If you'd like to be removed from the tag list please send me a message.)

#waratah-vroom perfumes #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris drabble #lando norris instagram #lando norris smau #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic

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ursuburbanmother · 5 months

Text

I’m On Fire, But I’m Trying Not to Show It || Chapter Three

Pairing: Angus Tully x fem!reader

a/n: Mothers and daughters?? Fathers and sons?!?

Word Count: ~4k

Find: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Enjoy!

December 23, 1970

You’ve been stuck in your own mind all day. It's decided to shut down like a panic room and you can see Angus try to crack it open with his attempts at small talk. Mary and Mr. Hunham share uncomfortable glances at each other, slightly humored about the quiet lunch they are having that would usually be filled by chatter from you two.

Angus leans in close to your ear, “You said we would talk today.”

“After this,” you murmur, sinking into the wooden chair.

“If this is about yesterday, it was just a weird moment, it didn’t mean anything.”

“Stop talking,” you say as nicely as you can when you see Mary's eyebrow quirk up at Angus’s comment.

“I have a surprise,” Mr. Hunham suddenly announces. Your eyes snap to him, embracing the distraction. He brings out a platter full of Christmas cookies and places them on the table. “These were a gift to me, and I would like to share them with both of you.”

Angus is unimpressed and by the way he is scowling, he's upset too. “Look at them. Look at all the festive shapes. Snowflakes and gingerbread men. A tree. A little mitten,” Mr. Hunham picks up the red and white frosted cookie and takes a bite. “Mmm,” he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you, Mister. This is really nice,” You reach for the snowflake. You’re not sure how well sloppy joe and sugar will settle in your stomach but you're willing to gamble on it. Mr. Hunham gives you a thin smile.

“May I go to the bathroom, sir?” Angus asks, already pushing away his dish and getting up from his chair.

“You may,” he sighs, watching the boy walk away.

“Well, I’m trying,” he says to the group, defeated.

You give him a weak grin, “These are good cookies though. If that means anything to you.”

Mary chuckles at your exchange. Mr. Hunham gets up and goes the same direction Angus had exited. Your eyes follow him until it is impossible for you to see him without breaking your neck. You turn to Mary who is close to finishing her cigarette. She blows the smoke away from your direction and pushes the packet towards you.

“Want one?”

“Oh. No thanks. That's Angus’s thing.”

“Alright. But don’t go asking for one later.”

“I won’t,” you laugh quietly. You hear voices in the hallway get louder. Angus shouts something you can’t make out and Mr. Hunham's response follows shortly after. Their noise fades away and you rub your tired eyes to snap you awake. You never could get enough sleep. You swear you could sleep for twenty-four hours and still feel groggy.

“What's going on with you two?” Mary asks.

“Angus and I?”

“No. You and the ghost that haunts the infirmary,” she took a sip of her coffee while shaking her head in amusement.

“My mother says I'm a bit of a blabbermouth. I don’t know if you want to hear the details,” you warn.

“Give me the reader's digest,” she pats the seat next to her. Bringing your coca-cola with you, you go cross over to her side of the table. “Okay. Tell me if you think I’m crazy-”

“I will.”

“-But Angus has been acting so weird. One second, he's all moody, a regular Holden Claufield, and the next he’s nice and being the Angus I’ve known all my life. I don’t know… Maybe he’s at the stage where his feelings swing around like a pendulum.”

“That's all-teenagers sweethearts. Even at adulthood, that pendulum never stops swinging. At some point it may slow down only for a gust of wind to return it into motion.”

“I mean he’s always been a little short-tempered, just never towards me. Yesterday,” you wonder if you are getting too personal now, “he called me selfish.”

“Selfish? The girl that just scarfed down a cookie to make an old man feel better.”

You shrug. You never knew how to take compliments. “I know I should just ask him what's really going on, but I don’t want him to blow up on me again.”

“If he does come to me. I’ll whip him into shape for you.”

“Thank you,” you giggle. “What do you think happened out there?” You tilt you heard towards the doors.

“Their usual bickering. That boy is probably paying the price for cursing Hunham out right now.”

“How long have you known Mr. Hunham?”

She paused before answering, “A while now.”

“Has he always been this… strong-willed?”

“Stubborn as a mule you mean? Yes, he has. Although the years have certainly hardened him more.”

“Why’s that?"

“Not sure. He’s a private man. I haven’t been able to pry anything out of him.”

“Not even when he’s,” you make your hand into a fist, extending the pink and thumb. You move it back and forth to mimic drinking from a bottle.

Mary cackles. “Not even then.”

…

The stupidest thing Angus had done was what he had done to you yesterday. He doesn’t know why he said it, why he had called you selfish. It just tumbled out. It was like he was a man possessed. But launching off a springboard in the gym in an act of rebellion was a close second.

He numbed the pain thinking of you. Granted if you were here, you would be lecturing him non-stop and telling him how he should have known better. But at least you would have been here, and he wouldn’t have to watch Mr. Hunham marinate in his misery. At least you would have been there to hold his hand as they popped his arm back into its socket.

Although his mouth had gotten him in trouble the last few days, it had been helpful in getting them out of the hospital insurance issue. And it was about to get him a free burger now too.

They had arrived at the local watering hole. It was jam packed with people getting tipsy with beer. He could hear the clink of billiards and the white noise on the TV.

“I think I’ll start with a beer. How about you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Tully. Get your cheeseburger.”

“They’ve got Miller High Life. The Champagne of Beers.”

“Oh?” Mr. Hunham said, but Angus could tell he was just trying to amuse him.

Angus shut the menu as their waitress came up the stairs to their little booth. “Okay, you ready to order? Oh!” she gasped as she turned to his teacher.

“Miss Crane,” Hunham touched his chest, “As I live and breathe. What-, what are you doing here?”

“Oh hi guys! Yeah, I always pick up a little extra work over Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Miss Crane explained.

It looked as if Mr. Hunham had been snapped awake, “Well, um, this is Mr. Tully,” he motioned his hand towards him.”

“Sure, I know you and your little girlfriend. You two are always glued together like gum on a pole,” Miss Crane said teasingly.

“Y/n L/n," he beamed, "she goes to the girl's school and we’re just friends. But um, we met outside Dr. Woodrup’s office. I was wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet,” he smiled as innocently as he could.

“I didn’t know about the wrongly part,” she shares a laugh with Hunham.

“He’ll have a cheeseburger,” he orders for Angus.

“And a Miller High Life please,” Angus adds quickly.

“Uh. No you will not,” Hunham says sternly.

“Where do you stand on Miller High Life, Miss Crane?”

“Well, like they say, it’s the Champagne of Beers.”

Angus turns to Hunham, “And she’s a professional.”

“Okay, one cheeseburger,” Miss Crane waits for him to fill the blank.

He relents and orders reluctantly, “And a Coke.”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger as well,” Hunham smiled.

“Two cheeseburgers,” she jots down the order on her notepad

“And a Jim Beam. On the rocks. Please.”

“Okay, you got it guys,” She smiles at them before exiting. Paul watches her go and Angus grins at the scene.

“Ouch. You two have chemistry,” he shakes his hand like he had touched a hot plate.

“Okay. That’s the Percodan talking,” Hunham dismisses.

“I don’t know. Seeing her like this, I think she’s pretty attractive,” he hopes his teacher will take the bait.

“Listen, you hormonal vulgarian, that woman deserves your respect, not your erotic speculation.”

Angus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Well, may I at least go to the bathroom? Sir?”

“You mean the payphone?”

They have a stare off before he runs off to the back of the restaurant. Angus scours any leftover change in his back pocket of his jeans. He finds enough to make a call. He scans the room, making sure that Mr. Hunham isn’t hunting him down like last time. He dials the number to the Barton infirmary and hopes you are lounging in your room.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he chants under his breath. Instead he gets the dial tone. He curses and slams the phone back to its original place.

…

You haven’t seen Angus since the morning. You've been spending all afternoon with Mary instead. You helped with the lunch dishes and are preparing the potatoes for supper later. Mary had a radio in the kitchen which you happily hummed to. Christmas music flooded your ears and reminded you of the holiday. In the halls of Barton there were no decorations, and one could probably convince a kid that the Grinch had stolen them in the dead of night.

“Mary, I'm done,” you proudly show her the bowl of potatoes. In your house most of the cooking was done by private chefs who came in and out so irregularly that you could never learn their names. Understandably, they didn’t have time to entertain a ten-year-olds insistent questions about what it meant to julienne a vegetable.

“Great. Why don’t you start boiling them and get started on chopping those mushrooms.”

“Okay,” you add water to a pot before adding the chomped potato. You find the mushrooms and cut them as thinly as you can. After you place them on the counter next to Mary who has already prepared everything else.

You admire as she adds them to a pan of melted butter. She drops salt, pepper, Italian dressing and other spices you can’t name, without even having to use measuring tools. “You’re Julia Child!” You praise.

“Just years of practice.”

“Hey, when do I get to sauté and mix things?” You get on your tiptoes to get a better look at the mushrooms turning a dark brown.

“When I know you won’t hurt yourself doing it,” she gave a pointed look at the bandaids on your fingers. You may have cut yourself in your first attempts at handling a knife. You hide the hand behind your back. “Sorry.”

You go to sit in a stool by the oven. You open a borrowed copy of a Kerouac book that Angus had in his suitcase. The Subterraneans, written in three days apparently and no offense to Jack but it shows. Mary notices your squinting as you go try to make sense of the writing, inching your face closer and closer to the paper.

“Are you planning to do something with that? The books.” Mary stops her stirring and lowers the heat of the stove. She walks over to you and glances at pages.

“What? Like with writing?” You ask, “I’m not sure. I know I should have figured it out by now but I just never got one of those woosh moments,” you sway your hands in the air.

“Woosh moment?”

“It's like what we talked about with the pendulum. I feel like I've been hanging still and waiting for the wind to send me on my way. I wait for it to push me with the strength of a tornado. Woosh. Almost to flood me with a feeling of knowing? I’m not the best at words…” you trail off.

“You're telling me nothing interests you?” She raised her eyebrow.

“No, a lot of things do. I want to do everything. Right now, for example, I feel like becoming a renowned chef,” you pick up a random bowl and start stirring it slowly.

“Try learning how to handle a knife right first,” she tuts.

“Practice makes perfect Mary,” you smile and look down into the chocolate substance you were messing with. “Cake or brownies?”

“Neither actually. It's more doughy than liquid honey,” she lectures you kindly.

“Right,” you say sheepishly, “I swear I’m smarter when it comes to other things. You should see me in civics class.”

“I believe you,” she winks, “Now get to preheating the oven, Betty Crocker.”

…

Angus goes off to play a game on the Pinball machine and to take his mind off you. It certainly helps him. Avoiding the prospect of getting beat up by locals and injuring another part of his body allows him to momentarily forget the stress he feels when he remembers how pissed you are at him.

Mr. Hunham and Angus eat their burgers quickly. To repay Mr. Hunham for saving his ass, Angus keeps his mouth shut every time he orders a Jim Beam. They leave after Hunham drops a rather generous tip for Miss Crane.

They're walking towards Hunhams car and Angus can’t resist the urge to ask, “Why’d you buy those guys beer? They’re assholes.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Hey. Catch,” he tosses his keys at Angus, who catches them on instinct.

“How many boys do you know who have had their hands blown off? Barton boys don’t go to Vietnam. No, they go to Yale or Dartmouth or Cornell, whether they deserve to or not."

“Except for Curtis Lamb.”

“Were you ever in the military?” Angus’s curiosity peaked.

“I tried to enlist in ‘41, but was rejected,” Mr. Hunham pointed at his eye, as if to say obviously. He tries to unlock the door of the driver's side to no avail. He points towards Angus,“I have to get in through there. Anyways, they made me an air raid warden. Gave me a whistle and everything. Helmet. Arm band.”

Angus opens the door, handing the keys off as Mr. Hunham slides in. He catches a whiff of Mr. Hunham unmentioned scent.

“Before we get going, can I be candid with you?”

“Mm-hmm,”

“You smell,” he states bluntly and Mr. Hunham deflates. Angus joins him inside the Nova, “Like fish. And it’s really noticeable toward the end of the day. I even smell it on your coat. Mind if I crack the window?”

“Trimethylaminuria.”

“Huh?” Angus frowns.

“Trimethylaminuria. Means my body can’t break down trimethylamine. That’s the smell. And, uh, yes, more toward the end of the day.

“Wow. Your whole life? No wonder you’re afraid of women,” he concludes.

“I am not afraid of women,” Hunham says, clearly offended. “Jesus H. Christ.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. Dr. Gertler says I don’t always give consideration to my audience,” Angus exhales.

“Who’s Dr. Gertler?’’

“My shrink,” Angus wants to disappear.

“Has Dr. Gertler ever tried a swift kick in the ass?”

Angus figures he ought to level the playing field. “Okay, all right, now your turn. Go ahead, tell me something about me. Something negative.”

“Something negative about you?”

“Sure. Just one thing.

“Just one?”

Angus nods and he probably should be offended that he is taking an awful long time to say anything.

“You’re obtuse about your social relationship.”

“What the hell is that supposed mean?”

“You didn’t say I had to elaborate Mr. Tully.”

“Okay well now I want you to. Spit it out.”

“No,” he backs out of his parking spot and hits the road.

“Come on! Explain,” Angus tugs on Hunhams jacket.

“I hope you don’t plan to pester me all the way to Barton. It'll be an awfully long ride.”

He presses down harder on the gas pedal.

…

You had burned the cookies. Not that you could tell when you took a bite of it. The cocoa had disguised it and you had just finished patting your back when you had to spit the whole thing out into the sink. Mary relishes your misery and apologizes through her laughs, wiping the tears in the corner of her eyes.

So your two-course meal had been reduced to just an entree. After thirty minutes of searching and waiting on Angus and Mr. Hunham, you ladies decided to leave the capacious mess hall and have a TV dinner. If your mother could see you now you were sure she would have you arrested by the etiquette police.

Mary was flipping through the channels to tune in to her daily rewatch of the Newlywed Game. You stopped her suddenly, your hand on top of hers to stop her from operating the remote.

“Cactus Flower! I love this movie. Please can we watch it?” You beg, clasping and shaking your hands together.

“What’s it about?” She asks hesitantly, clearly wary about abandoning her favorite program.

“You’ll love it! Ingrid Berman has to pretend to be her boss's wife because he lied to his lover about being married and having kids and shit-,”

“Language.”

“-Sorry. And so now he has to pull off this big con, so she won’t leave his lying as-, butt,” you correct yourself. “Goldie Hawn is sooo good in this. She won an Oscar I think.”

“I supposed I could give it a try. If it bores me we are switching right back though.”

“Deal,” you giggle and scoot the plate balancing on your lap closer so you can dig in.

For the next hour, Mary seems content in watching the characters in the movie ignore and miscommunicate their feelings. Even shaking her head when they do something she finds ridiculous. Your eyes get heavy as the ending nears, your stomach warm and content with the meal you had and the glare of the television tiring your vision. You lean your head back into the couch cushion and close your eyelids. Distantly you hear Ingrid Berman and Walter Matthau confess their love before your world goes dark.

Slumped against Mary, you wake up for the second time that week by the same hands. Angus is shaking your shoulder gently. Your gaze falls immediately to the sling his arm is in.

“Angus! What the hell?” You whisper- shout, fixing your posture and wiping the potential drool off your face. You check to make sure you didn’t wake up Mary.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he reassures. “It’s not broken, or anything just dislocated.”

“What happened?’’ Your arm trails down from where the sling starts to where his hand hangs lazily out. "Is this why you weren’t at dinner tonight? Hunham too?”

“Uh yeah. I jumped off a springboard in the new gym,” he answers bashfully.

“Wow… you are so stupid sometimes.”

“I prefer spontaneous thank you,” he sits down next to you on the couch and lets out a sigh. Using his good arm, he lifts a plastic bag. “We went out to eat and I got you something.”

“Ooh,” You snatch the bag and open it as quietly as you can without crinkling the plastic. Inside the Styrofoam box there's a half-eaten burger with some cold fries. You snack on it anyway offering some to Angus who shakes his head.

“Mr. Hunham thought buying another would be wasteful. He assumed you and Mary would have probably eaten by then so I saved what I could.”

“We did and,” you motion to the plates, “I helped cook it!”

“Really?” Angus's eyes widened, “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I saved you some cookies,” You pick up the dish of the burnt dessert. You have brought them over believing you had been exaggerating the taste.

You hadn't.

He takes one, clueless, and bites almost half the cookie off. You see him wince but still he continues to chew. He chokes it down and nods, “Not bad?”

“You’re such a liar,” you shove his head lightly. “I forgot to turn on the timer.”

“Yeah I can tell,” he takes your confession as his cue to spit the rest out into a nearby napkin.

“Thanks for this though,” you take a bite of the burger, “I had forgotten what fast food tasted like.”

“Don’t tell him I let you have it. Or that you saw me in fact. The whole arm thing is supposed to be secret.”

“Got it,” you extended your pinky for him to intertwine. He takes it but doesn’t remove his pinky after, instead he lets your connected hands fall between the both of you.

The TV is still on, except the volume is lower and an old black-and-white movie is on. You finish the burger and put the trash aside to throw away in the morning.

“Where is Mr. Hunham now?”

“Crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow.”

“So you want to talk now?” You look up at him.

“Umm, somewhere private though. Incase Mary wakes up,” he gets up, still connected to you by your fingers and pulls you alongside him. You pick up a discarded blanket along with you

“Okay. Where do you want to go?”

He walks you two out of the staff common room and you let him take the lead. Barton is cold even without all the large windows closed. It’s like walking through a haunted mansion, passing by old dusty trophy cases and pictures of past alumni. When you enter what you recognize to be the auditorium, thanks to the plaque next to the door, Angus strolls you two over to the stage. You sit on the piano bench and when he joins you, you cover him with your blanket.

You hear Angus let out a shaky breath and then see the winter air turn it into a small cloud of smoke.

Angus starts to speak, a tremble in his voice, “You’re the only person who thinks of me first know? Even when we were little, and we had a free pass to be totally self-centered you still never-. Like in middle school when you’d give me biology answers, or just now with the blanket! I have a jacket! I should be giving you the entire blanket. In fact, let me give you -, your just-.”

“It’s alright Angus,” you stop his rapid rambling, holding his face between your hands. “I already forgave you a long time ago.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” he chuckles, trying to divert his gaze but the soft hold you have on him keeps him still.

“I forgave you the second you walked in looking like a kicked puppy.”

He laughs at your words.

“Although I just want to ask what has been going on with you? I know you hate school and you're not incredibly fond of Stanely marrying your mom, but I feel like something has been bothering you. Something big.”

“I need to go to Boston Y/n,” he admits, hitting some random piano keys. The notes echo around the room.

“Okay,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “why?”

“It's snowing outside but it doesn’t feel like Christmas. But my dad, he would make it feel that way. So I need to see him and my mom had promised but you see how that turned out.”

“Oh Angus. This is why you kept bringing it up,” you gasp. “Jesus. And I had called you stupid, I’m the dense one for not connecting the dots.”

“No no. You’re not. I was being evasive. I guess I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I would have stolen Jason Smith's car keys had I known! We could be there by now, eating Clam Chowder by the bay. ”

“Nuh-uh. You’re way too of a goody-two shoe for that.”

“Well I would have followed you. Given an hour's notice, of course, to build my confidence.”

“I don't know,” Angus hits a few more keys, “Maybe this was fate like you said. It definitely didn’t deal me a cruel hand having me holdover here with you.”

“Yeah, the universe was certainly on our side for this one,” you move closer to him and put your head on his shoulder. “Hey, you think you can still play even with only one working hand?”

“I’m willing to try it,” he stretches his fingers, “What shall I serenade you with?”

“Something Beach Boys. In My Room?”

“You got it L/n.”

He plays much slower and his jaw is sharp, fully determined to get through the song for your enjoyment. He plays so gracefully you don’t even notice when he slips on occasion. You don’t mind it. It’s almost as sweet as a lullaby.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #the holdovers

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