#and i go to work so early that drunk people are leaving the bar around that time and guys keep hitting on me and im alone and small and weak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

werezmastarbucks · 5 months ago

Text

the girl with expensive earrings

masterlist - part 1 of 6

in which you get what you deserve for saving Namjoon's sister

yoongi x clueless!f!nonKorean!reader

i gotta start adding tags because these stories literally come to my head like: dogsitting; party; girl code; confusion; shy!yoongi; setting ppl up; hurt/comfort

author's note: for the sake of being a better person i changed Namjoon's sister's name. not my fault they ALL have siblings already. also as usual i thought it'd be a oneshot, but the story turned out longer. sorry for the beginning: it drags out a little, but i had such a blast writing Minji and also I had to establish... stuff

word count: 4135

warnings: language, mentions of a car accident, overcoming trauma, mentions and depictions of abusive relationship

music: intro: ringwanderung by bts, delicate by taylor swift, girls by the 1975, meanswear by the 1975

You lived hard. Allowing yourself to celebrate sometimes was easy, especially now that you moved to Seoul. Still kind of new to the city, to its spicy food by default, with no warning or label; to its bity weather in December, to its people who never laughed hard in the streets, to the 'take off shoes everywhere' rule, and to the breathtaking beauty of Seoul in early spring. The latter was an ever pleasant awe: seeing the sun coming back again, seeing trees wake up. Seoul was good like honey for the soul that's been shredded to pieces.

The differences in cultures kept you busy, together with your new tight work schedule, so you didn't have a lot of time to ponder on your sad moments. The differences in cultures, that is, some of which shocked you to your core.

The complete absence of girl code on the streets. It became especially evident in Itaewon every weekend. Girls left alone, passed out on the sidewalk, their friends hopping into taxis to go home; the indifference of passing people when a girl yelped in pain as her boyfriend pinched the soft skin on her forearm; friends retreating when a smug and unknown guy approached a drunk lady to try and chat her up. This all made you feel uneasy. As a solo drinker on a Saturday, you noticed these things every time, and always tried to insert yourself into the situation, to an extent. You'd sit on the ground with a sleeping girl and wait for her taxi with her, not even sure she managed to mumble you the right address. You'd call her a made up name and wave your hand from across the street as if you knew her and see her eyes light up in relief, and the eyes of her pursuer go darker. You didn't think yourself a hero for that, mostly you were kind of terrified in those moments.

But there happened only one moment when you got so absolutely furious that you forgot fear.

This little girl, dollfaced and well-dressed, with her long shiny hair, against her supposed boyfriend. The guy was about three times bigger than her, with that kind of pig face that always told you about the character. The golden chain around his neck on top of white tee was nauseating to look at. He was stretching the wovels in his curses towards her, grabbing her by the hand, by the shoulder. The girl wasn't panicking yet, but was attempting to fight him off which he barely noticed. He was probably intoxicated as it was eleven at night in Itaewon. Neon orange, pink and red lights above your heads, noisy torrents of people pushing through to disperse into bars and karaoke places. And nobody paid attention to one girl struggling to get away from an abuser swearing like he stepped out of a cheap drama they produce in bulks every year. Opening his mouth wide, showing teeth. Textbook TV show villain, thinking that nobody would help her anyway.

You were about to leave the street when you spotted them, and, tuning your head around, realized you found yourself in the same pickle as the last time, when you watched a woman jump out of the fifth floor window. Street full of people but everybody is blind. You shrugged your shoulders, pumping yourself up. You're drunk, Y/N, you urged yourself, and when you're drunk you can kick anybody's ass. The fear gets an elephant dose of anesthesia and checks off. There's only them fighting next to an ice cream parlour, and your three cocktails bloodshot eyes. You made your move, bumping into bodies as you tried to cut the short distance. Spotted a bottle half empty on an unoccupied table. Itaewon was beautiful. Cherries in full bloom with wine red light shining through their petals, giving them an ethereal halo, and the distant small pecks of stars, like the girl's earrings. The last second before you intervened, you thought, she's too well dressed and they might be rich, and you might get in trouble. But your mouth was already open.

"Get away from her!" you barked, bottle in your hand, and as you twisted it, the alcohol sipped onto you hand. The guy moved his swollen red-drunken eyes on you and continued his rant with a different recepient. Korean language normally treated you well because most people who spoke it to you were doing it gently, with a mellow hiss, not chewing up their words. The way this person was expressing himself was far away from the romantic murmur you were used to hearing so you didn't understand a word. Except a couple of curse words that usually get memorized first in any language.

The girl though. She immediately moved towards you and stood at your side (but not hid behind) and her eyes stared with slight surprise and undying gratitude.

She replied to her boyfriend in a confident tone, as if you were any taller than her.

The guy reached for you two, and you stroke him on the arm. Your new companion yelped and barged into the fight, crashing down on him with her small and swift fists, the gems in her rings throwing flashes of iridescent fire.

You became friends after that night. Her name was Kim Minji and she was exactly the person deserving to be saved: exhaustingly happy, jovial, enthusiastic, a l i v e. She was going through that breakup with the force of all that was female in her. Drinking on her kitchen at nights opened up all the sides of her: she'd laugh hysterically, remembering the night when you met, calling you the paragon of solidarity, and then she'd throw herself onto your shoulders, squeezing you with all her surprising might, and then break into tears, because she used to love that man. She'd get serious while telling you about all the abuse she'd suffered at his hands, then get hysterical again thinking about it, thinking what it meant for her to break free. Then Minji would look at you with her huge watery eyes, light shivering inside the pupils, and whisper,

"If it hadn't been for you, who knows how long more I'd stay with him".

She was going through her emotions in circles, slowly healing, for three weeks, and almost every night you came over to console her, and it was beautiful. Perhaps the freshness and loneliness of a new country weighed on the closeness you felt for Minji: for a whole year people around you were reserved, collected and formal. And this insane girl reciprocated all the hidden desire to connect in less than a month. She needed her hand held; and she needed a hug every other hour; and she needed an ear to listen. At times she'd repeat herself, and you'd just nod. It was an unusual position for you because you weren't the background dancer. In life, you were usually the one who came to your best friend for help and she'd be forced to listen. But here, you were the new Y/N. Life had slapped you on the face so hard that everything before burned. You inhaled, exhaled, and went with the flow, forming this tight, unexpected and very intimately understanding, very unlikely friendship with the girl from Itaewon.

Minji had a flat in the Gangnam district and wore nine hundred euro earrings. When you admired them, saying that the glow was throwing sunspots onto the table, she smiled in the sweetest way and said that she just-

"ADORE Pandora. I don't know what's with me, but I am obsessed with their jewelry. My brother gave these to me for my birthday. Do you wanna see the others?"

You weren't by any means poor. The offer for a job came straight from Sogang University and made it possible for you to rent a reluctantly cosy apartment in Seodaemun. Yet you didn't have an array of diamond earrings in silk-bound little boxes in the drawer of your desk. You had a glimpse into Minji's wealthy life by looking at her jewelry. Not all of it was to your taste, but Minji was unapologetically in love with all of them and even tried to see if some would match your face. She was sincere, simple, emotional, and she completely won you over. The natural lack of curiousity and caution stopped you from asking who the hell her brother was, and what she did for a living, although you probably should have.

Finally came the time to open up to Minji, after you learned half of her life story during the long Gangnam nights.

You told her about the reason you came to Korea which was, except for the job offer you broke all your bones for, the death of your best friend. Minji could be very collected and quiet when she needed to; for about twenty minutes at a time. She had a big heart, really, and never made you feel small, and never pulled the blanket of attention on her when it wasn't her turn to pour her soul.

She probably realized why you two clicked so well and what even made you stand up for her in the first place; her tears of sorrow as she empathized with you were as rainbowy as her expensive earrings, as clear as her ceiling-high windows overlooking a busy intersection and the skyline; as melodic as the confident and telling purr of her Porsche Macan. You got yourself involved with some rich people, you were thinking, on the way to yet another coffee and gossip girldate, and you were highly suspicious of Minji's unwillingness to speak about her family.

"Oh, they are great, you know", she'd sing, "but you know, I am not a fool myself. I landed a great job at Samsung. I know, maybe my connections helped, but, ugh, and I might not look like it, but I am smart".

You'd never told her she didn't look smart. She looked expensive, and sweet, and high maintenance for any guy who'd take a burden of listening to her every day.

"What do you do there?" you finally asked her.

"I make ads. I'm in marketing", she replied shortly and you didn't mistake this for sheer shyness. Maybe she didn't want to make it awkward between you, maybe she found it plain boring. Minji liked talking about boyfriends and your job more. She'd ask about the kinds of projects you do at university and always make the landmark adorable face - Ö - when you told her funny stories about your students.

Friendship like this was probably unbelievable, but cinematographic cirucmstances collided you together, and the ultimate action you'd undertaken had to have certain consequences, right? Not even once did Minji act unpretty or smug; she didn't do drugs like you imagined rich young people did, who have a lot of pressure at work; her drug was gossip, and who sleeps with who, and what they wore, and what they posted on twitter seven years ago during a rain on a Monday. She had excellent memory for drama and no patience for self-belittlement.

"My brother always tells me that girls like you and me should live with our heads up high", she said. You snickered.

"How does your brother know I am like you? I am quiet and you're extraverted".

Minji shook her head furiously and pushed the chewing gum around her mouth with her little tongue. Her pearl-white teeth sucked in the air.

"No, I know who you are. You were the only person in the whole fucking Itaewon to care about little me getting smacked around. You're the person who listened to my bitching and moaning about a short dick of a douchebag for a whole month-"

"Three weeks", you corrected her. She waved the correction away like it was cigarette smoke.

"You are one fine ass woman with a steel core. After what you've been through; and still you choose to help fools like me", she gave you a strange, deepening look that was too momentous for her usual self.

You shrugged. She was right. That was the moment Kim Minji has decided your fate.

Minji called on a Sunday, a little distressed, and you felt scared that she got into a drama again. But she sounded reserved and somewhat business-like while having this sickening finality to her voice. So, maybe something even more serious. There we go, you thought while dressing up in front of the mirror you scooped up in a second hand store in Seochon (very beautiful, reminded you of old Seoul). There we go, her and her rich ass got into trouble with mafia and now she wants me to wield a half-empty soju bottle into the mafiosi faces. As you left the building, to the sound of the train rushing above your head matching your steps, you were creating wild scenarios in your head where the whole time Kin Minji was evil after all and she is going to sell you instead of herself to the black organ trafficking market; or she'll sell you into sex slavery to the people she owes money to; or to one of the K-pop idols; what if she is involved in a Burning Sun type of scheme? Sometimes you had to pull your mind by the reins and shut it up. The apocalyptic tales it spun in the moment of hesitation scared you to no end. You looked at the late summer Seoul sky while waiting for the taxi. Something /still/ was so important that Minji didn't want to speak about it over the phone.

You were biting your lips as you pushed the door of a coffeeshop and spotted her at the table, furiously writing something on a piece of paper, a phone pressed to her ear. She nodded at you; no need to say in what manner. She did everything furiously whereas you did things spontaneously. You were written in different fonts.

"Heeey", she stretched her back, clutching her little fists. You looked at your own nails, freshly done, to avoid going first. But Minji didn't seem too pressed about it.

"So", her eyes were searching your face, "have you seen the MAMA yesterday?"

You frowned,

"What is that?"

She shrugged like it didn't matter.

"The music awards ceremony".

"Oh. Did anybody fall off stage? Did that hilarious guy perform? The one who always gives joke performances?"

Her face twisted in a giggle,

"Oh, no, but there were some funny moments. Not enough drama, though. No secret touches, you know. I scanned the twitter like a hound for fancams, and nothing. BTS swept all the awards, as usual".

You nodded. You've seen the celebrity faces occasionally on the streets; the buses usually had their cutesy images slapped on the sides, and that's how you knew that a certain SUGA had his birthday in March, and that you all loved Lisa. Sometimes Minji mentioned something about the turbulent and never-ever scandal-dry world of K-pop, but you listened to different music and just got used to hearing their upbeat melodies on the background wherever you went. In fact, if you strained your memory, you could recall a couple of explosive controversies in the year and a half you've been living here. But they all looked the same to you; glitter and shiny clothes, dancing in synch, melodic voices, songs about... jeans? You were sure you were on the right track.

You sucked on the straw of your drink, thinking about it, then caught Minji staring at you with a smile.

"Anyway", she said, "don't get mad with me, okay? Promise".

Your frown returned and you felt the hairs of your eyebrows stand a little.

"What did you do?"

She put one arm on the table and started working her fist, nervous.

"My family is not the most ordinary, and we are usually cautious about new people, we have to be. It's not easy for me to warm up to someone like I did to you. I just", she puffed, "like you so much that I really wanted to give it some time to see how... you were?"

She winced with the last words.

"So far I have no goddamn clue what you're talking about", you replied, the bubbles in your drink flowing up. "Unless you're telling me your family is famous".

She sighed with relief.

"Yes".

"Don't tell me you're related to the North Korean leader or I'll flip the table", you said from under your lowered lids. This was horrifying and equally exciting. All you wanted was to start anew, and a good friend.

"No", she laughed.

"Kim Nam Gil?" you asked with hope. The only actor whose name you knew because he was your official crush of the year.

For some reason Minji blushed a little.

"No, but my brother, the one who..."

"The one who gives you diamond earrings because you're his little sister", you said, internally tender about it.

"Yes, he's an idol".

This didn't make much of an impression as you could name about two of three of them. You were a little embarrassed about not knowing more, but again, your world was so different from Minji's; and a year and a half is not nearly enough to completely assimilate into a country when you work every day except Sunday, from morning until six. Not much time for pop culture left.

"I only know Jungkook", you said with resolution. Minji giggled.

"Well, close. Anyway, I'm saying this to you so that there's no unspoken secrets between us".

You shrugged and smiled.

"Thank you. Um. It's cool. I think you get to see shows for free? I'm not mad about it. I hope your idol brother buried your ex's body somewhere in the sea?"

This provoked a short laugh.

"God, I barely ever spoke to him about Taejeong, because he'd lose his freaking little mind. Nam is way too protective of me, I don't know where it's coming from, but he was usually livid when I told him we fought".

She pushed her empty coffee cup around the table.

"I did tell him about you saving me, by the way. I had to explain why and how we broke up".

You got hung up on the livid part. Holding your chin with your fist, you said, dreamily,

"Wow, you're the forever baby sister. That is so marvelous. I always wanted a male twin when I was little".

Minji tried to comfort you, as always,

"It's not all that great. He was an ass to me when we were growing up".

"Still", you looked at her and saw that she wasn't finished. She bit her lower lip seeing your raised eyebrows:

"I also had to warn you about it because I wanted to beg you to come with me to his birthday party".

Before you could answer, she went on, using her weapon: throwing her head into her hands like she was a dying servant from a sixteenth century royal household.

"Oh, Y/N, it's such a boy club every time. They never take their sisters with them, and I am alone, or like if someone is dating at the moment, he brings along this girlfriend, and what's the point of partying with her, if she's going to be gone in a week, you know? I just know they will drink all the whiskey on the boat and start doing the maknae throw again..."

Her eyes were begging you.

"What's a maknae throw?" you whispered, horrified.

"You'll see... if you come with me", she promised. Minji was so good at this subtle manipulation. She left just enough of the information hanging so that you'd get interested. Your nostrils flared. You weren't of their kind. Frankly speaking, you didn't think much of the celebrities in flesh: you believed them to be jaded, dangerous and boring. You had no ultra expensive clothes to matched their lush lifestyle. You didn't know how idols celebrated birthdays and what presents they were used to receiving.

Looking at Minji, you probably looked more and more scared, so she reached across the table and grabbed your hand with her warm, moisturized palm:

"They are good boys. But they are that... boys, you know? I need a gal to save me again... please come to Nam's birthday with me... you'll have fun, I promise".

You pouted.

"We're not even dating and I can't resist your whining, Minji. How are you even real".

She threw her hands in the air.

"What does your brother like? Except you", you asked, tired already of the upcoming thought battle you'd have to engage into. Not even a small part of you wanted to see idols. Might seem insane, but life was just beginning to look stable again: you started sleeping half a night, every other night. You had someone to talk to, like a normal person, about your normal human life. A small part of you was hoping that, since Minji was so down to earth and kind, maybe her brother was, too. Maybe - just maybe, idols are also humans and not sillicon, flesh eating, brain consuming monsters?

"He is artsy. Likes... fine things. Collects vintage prints and figurines".

"What a delicate flower", you approved, "there's this antique store I found in Seochon where I think I saw cool looking old Japanse vases".

Minji nodded confidently:

"Grab them. Grab all of them".

Minji said it's a boat birthday. You settled with your favorite high-waist jeans, a comfortable top and a jean jacket in case it gets cold. September was still a summer in full swing, even if with a moan. The skies were getting more and more orange every day. The dude was a Virgo which meant nothing to Minji since the Koreans didn't care about the Western zodiac.

"He's a dog", she said with the feeling and held the taxi door for you as you managed out of the car. You nearly forgot your jean jacket inside, balancing the three vases wrapped in colorful paper in your arms.

"What does it mean to you?" you inquired. Minji hummed something. The embankment was empty save for a couple of slick unoccupied cars and a mid-sized boat of brown wood, glistening in the late afternoon sun, her bow proudly poking in the direction of the western side of the harbour. This baby could easily contain around thirty people, you thought, and your stomach dropped. You regretted not having cuffed yourself to Minji because you were so uncomfortable thinking about such gatherings. The parties. You were too much of a yes person. You really didn't want to go, but Minji said 'boys club' and made these pity eyes, and you couldn't in good conscience leave her alone. She must have other, more glamorous girl friends, no? you thought, looking at her from the side while she folded your jean jacket in her hands. Maybe not. She did say she has to be cautious of people.

"So", she said, inviting you onto the dock.

"So?" you repeated, a bit feverishly. The boat was getting closer and closer. You could already hear the muffled music coming from the inside.

"You never asked me which band", she said, too excited, in your humble opinion.

"Wait, you're not gonna pimp me to them, are you?" you demanded, and Minji burst into snickering.

"Oh, you really hate all the idols, don't you?"

"I don't hate- I don't know them. Dude, I only heard about the Burning Sun stuff!"

Minji sighed, somewhat tragically, and at that instance, a guy emerged from the boat and ran down the gangway.

"Minji-ya!" he screamed. Didn't yell or call her out, he outright screamed when he saw her. This tall guy, heavy blinking watch on his wrist, in a light, Hawaiian-style shirt on top of a beige tee, ran towards you with his arms outstretched and grabbed the whole of Minji so that for a second she completely drowned in the hug.

"Namjoon", she uttered, fighting him off in small, goofy motions. You tried to hide your huge clunk of a package behind your back, with no visible success. A second Nam spent looking at his sister and mingling with her hair, and then turned to you and said, with strong American accent:

"Y/N, thank you so much for coming".

You couldn't really contain the good mood you got into upon seeing this family reunion. Maybe it's not that bad, you thought. The guy kept respectful distance and didn't say anything else, waiting for your move. You just stood there, smiling.

"Happy birthday, Nam..."

"Joon", he bowed slightly, like a very luxurious, dreamy waiter. You bowed in return out of habit.

"Joon?" the smile was growing stupid.

"Namjoon".

"Oh".

Someone's head poked out of the boat entrance and immediately disappeared. Namjoon laughed the way people laugh, when they give their sisters nine hundred euro earrings for holidays.

"She's a little gobsmacked, because she thinks you'll eat her for dinner..." Minji explained.

"Minji, you and your fucking mouth", he suddenly said, and dimples appeared on his cheeks. You sighed internally.

"She doesn't even know who you are", she continued, giving you a partner-in-crime cheesy look.

"You don't know BTS?" Namjoon gasped, with an air of playful mockery.

"I know Jungkook", you reported faintly.

The Kim siblings laughed in unison in their wealthy ha-ha-has.

#yoongi imagine #bts imagine #yoongi x reader

182 notes · View notes

spacecola7 · 5 months ago

Text

The Years - Ghost x Reader

Ghost who met you well into your military career, an expert strategist and even better with guns, Price had added you to the team after a year of working on various missions with you.

You weren’t simple though. After joining the military to help pay for med school, you had found out that you were better at killing people than you were saving them. They’d offered to transfer you and just have you work as a medic, but you continued on and eventually found your place in the American special forces.

Price had seen your cunning, your tactical brilliance, and your speed in the field and claimed you for the 141. For the past four years you had worked with them, never not by their sides unless you were on leave.

It was in these time periods, away from you, that Ghost sat in his flat and did nothing but think of you. The way you keep your hair braided and the breath you take before firing your rifle. The fact you hate the color yellow and love Chinese takeout. Think about when a year into your time with them, right before Price had asked you to join, that your husband had cheated on you.

You had told him this story in the dark confines of a bar as Gaz, Soap, and Price had a vicious game of billiards. He hadn’t spoke the whole time, watching you with a focus not on your face but on the rage he had to keep in check

They had finished a mission early and were allowed to go on leave for the holidays, or until you were needed again. The car in your driveway had been the first sign. Upon opening the door, the moans trailing down the hallway and the clothes strewn on the floor told the story. You hadn’t bothered to go in crying, simply grabbed your handgun and kicked open the door. The bitch looked just like you.

“Did you kill ‘em?” was all Simon asked as you had trailed off, fist clenched around a heavily nursed glass of bourbon.

“No. I think back and I wish I had, but no. I could have got away with that back in Texas, but here, you brits don’t have justified murder.”

So you had joined the team, growing reckless in the field. It took a bullet to the thigh and a knife wound to the abdomen, along with four ripped stitches, for Ghost to wrestle you to the ground and demand. Demand for you to care enough about yourself to not die. To not leave him.

You came back from that final leave of absence stronger. Smiling even, as Gaz had pulled you into a hug so tight it made Ghost twitch thinking about the jagged wound in your stomach.

For those next years you had grown closer to your team, learning to rely on them and they you. Things become simple. But you aren’t simple. And so things get complicated when Soap mentions bringing in some girls after a particularly successful mission.

You tolerate the strippers for all of thirty minutes before you storm out, the sight of one of them eyeing Ghost like he’s not Simon Riley but instead a way to get an extra fat tip.

The boys are too drunk to notice him immediately follow, except Price, whole smiles to himself before turning back to the girl prettily sitting on his lap. It takes Ghost a few moments to catch up to you as you walk out of the barracks.

“Ghost leave me alone.” you shout before he can speak.

“Why did you leave?” he calls out after you, grabbing you by the shoulder and turning you to face him.

“Because I’m not in the mood to watch you all oogle women in four inch heels and minimal clothing all night.”

He curses below his breath.

“You’ve never ‘ad a problem until now. So what the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

You can feel the way he searches your face, mask doing little to conceal the desperation in his eyes. His hand on your shoulder tightens imperceptibly, every inch of his body wired to the way your expression shifts.

“Ghost.”

He chases the centimeter you back away from him, sensing the way you recoil from the honesty he’s asking of you.

“Tell me.”

You sigh.

“That girl wanted to fuck you.”

“She did.”

Your lip curls and you turn once again and stalk to your room, fully intending on slamming the door in his face. Except he doesn’t grant you that pleasure and shoves himself through after you.

“Ghost what the hell do you want from me?” you practically snarl at him.

“I didn’t want to fuck her.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“You do.”

This makes you pause, looking him up and down. Standing in your room, chest heaving from chasing after you and eyes practically blazing. He breaks the silence first, taking a step forward as his hands clenched at his sides.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what.” you ask, more confused than before.

“For not being good at this. Not…not good at any of this. I didn’t think it was worth trying to learn. I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” you cry, closing the distance between you two.

“You feel the same.”

He says it as a question, not a statement the way it should be. The way he intends it. He’s not brave enough to say that like he knows what’s right and wrong. Not after he’d spent years in love with you and hadn’t said a damn thing.

“I do.” you let the anger out in your response to hide the tears in your eyes.

Ghost pulls you into his arms. The tears fall. Your body trembles in his grip. He hushes against the hair of your scalp.

“I’m sorry, love.”

Your arms lift to wrap around him, burrowing your face into his chest and breathing him in to calm the shaking that racks your body. When you finally calm, he lifts you gently and places you softly on the bed. It takes a few seconds to get comfortable, but he soon has you curled into him as he strokes long lines down your back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he whispers.

“Me too, Simon.”

#cod simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #cod #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod gaz #cod john mactavish #cod price

178 notes · View notes

bbydoll18xx · 1 year ago

Text

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 3)

You get drunk off Paige, and confessions come out.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Word Count: 2k

Themes: mentions of self pleasure, idk thats really it i think, still prob 18+

Masterlist

Part 1 - You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her.

Part 2 - Paige continues her assault on your innocence, leading you to spiral.

A/N: sorry this took longer than expected lol but we got here (also i wrote this while watching Shrek LOL) Let me know what you think. If you want a part 4 let me know but i think 5 parts total would work!

Also I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who commented/reached out regarding me talking about my struggles with my sexuality on part 2. You guys are so kind, and as someone who never really talks about my feelings, I appreciate you giving me an outlet to do so :)

Here we goooo

The music was pounding in a way that would typically give you a headache, and the way people at the bar couldn’t seem to mind their personal space usually would’ve pissed you off. But you were floating on a cloud from Paige’s touch and the drink you’ve been sipping all evening, and all thoughts of worry had vanished from your mind.

Your hips swayed in time with the music, moving in a way you did not think you were even capable of. You had done several things, though, the past few days that were completely out of character. You liked this new you. The newfound confidence was refreshing, leaving a satisfying tingle lingering on your skin.

Paige’s touch was fucking intoxicating, and in the moments since the electrifying kiss, the confidence you were feeling had grown substantially. Her hands had yet to leave your body, alternating between your hips and your waist, swaying alongside you as your butt grazes her pelvis.

She spins you around, so you’re face to face once more. You attempt to avoid glancing down at that plush bottom lip of hers, pink and glistening with the sparkly lip gloss you had reapplied early in the night, but to no avail. Her mouth beckoned to you, lips turned in a smirk that made your knees want to buckle, and you grabbed onto her waist to steady yourself.

The effects of the alcohol were palpable, and your inhibitions were nearly gone as you pulled Paige closer to you, desperately needing more. The tension was thick as you look up at her, batting your eyelashes with a coy look that had Paige’s stomach rolling with unquenchable want.

Little did you know, though, that the second Paige had seen you tonight, she knew she would have to have you. Your innocence was intriguing, and she knew you weren’t putting on a show.

Paige always had to be a little wary about who she was letting into her life. People were freaks, and she had been burned before by people trying to take advantage of her fame and her kind persona. But your own disposition, one of pure goodness, made her believe that things were going to be different this time.

“Hi,” you beamed, nose crinkling in a fond smile as you look up at Paige, who is unable to hold back a smile of her own.

“Hey, yourself,” she answers, enjoying the closeness that you were initiating, finally feeling more comfortable around her.

“Not that I have much to compare it to, but that was a really good kiss,” you mutter before even thinking about the words that were now leaving your mouth, and a blush blooms across your cheeks as you hear yourself.

“Think I need a reminder,” Paige says seductively, pulling you in by your belt loops to connect your lips in another searing kiss.

It was nearly impossible to hold back a moan from the pressure of her lips sliding across yours. And while the earlier kiss had been almost tentative, as if Paige was afraid to break you, this one was filled with unbridled passion and sheer want. Her tongue swipes across your bottom lip, causing you to slightly gasp, your mouth opening to invite her deeper into you.

It was raw, hands grabbing at her shirt to ground you, as you move your lips in unison with hers. Your belly is fluttering, and the neediness inside you ignites like a fire, the flames licking at your insides and sliding down to your most intimate area.

You had been horny before. You were a perfectly healthy college girl, but this was something new, and the irrepressible want was taking control over your carefully curated image you had worked so hard to maintain.

The two of you eventually pull away, chests heaving and heads spinning from lust and the alcohol.

“Yeah, definitely good,” Paige affirms, pecking your lips once more, and you giggle. “What did you mean when you said you didn��t have much to compare the kiss to,” she asks, her head cocked to the side cutely.

Oh fuck. She hadn’t let that slide.

“That…was my first real kiss,” you mumble, looking down at your feet, too embarrassed to look Paige in the eyes.

She moves her hand to your jaw, gently forcing you to meet her soft gaze. “Hey, no shame in that,” she says, stroking your cheek soothingly. You lean into her touch, getting drunk on it, and nod your head. Of course she understood.

She guides you away from the crowded dance floor, seeking solace in the less congested perimeter of the bar and she sits down beside you.

Her hand never leaves your soft skin, and she rubs small circles onto your flesh. Her next question has your cheeks flushing in embarrassment once more, blooming down your chest in a not-so-subtle display.

“So if that was your first kiss, I’m assuming you haven't done anything else?”

You shake your head, not trusting your words at the moment.

“That’s okay, baby,” she reassures you, her eyes boring into yours. “Have you just not met the right person or…” she trails, trying to gauge why a 21 year old as pretty as you was so inexperienced.

“I have a bit of a habit of liking people who are wildly unavailable,” you mutter, thinking back to your celebrity crushes and the wildly humiliating encounters with the football players at your high school.

“And I’ve always just been terrified of rejection. So it’s been easier to just keep to myself,” you explain. “But now I’m getting older, and the thought of dating when I’m so inexperienced makes me even more nervous.” You bow your head to avoid her gaze, playing with your bracelet to self-soothe.

Paige listens intensely, wheels turning in her head as she does so. “What if you had someone to walk you through it?” She asks.

Your head shoots up, eyes widening in surprise at her question, and your heart rate skyrockets.

What the hell was she even asking?

“Someone meaning…you?” You clarify, and she nods her head, a small smile stretching across her face.

“Why don't you think about it,” she says, not wanting to make you feel pressured. “And if you want to, you know where to find me,” she adds with a wink.

The rest of the girls of the team quickly flock over to join you and Paige, pulling you from your musings, and the night ends soon thereafter.

You had always prided yourself on being in control. You were in control of your grades. You controlled your environment to absolute perfection. And you certainly had control over your behavior and emotions.

That was until Paige Bueckers came into the equation and sent you absolutely fucking spiraling.

In less than 48 hours you had abandoned your previous stance of trying to remain rational and grounded, almost irritatingly logical in favor of floating on a mercurial high.

You had skipped through your door after being dropped off by Paige, the taste of her chapstick still lingering on your lips. And you were still riding that high a week later.

Your roommates took great pleasure in your recap of Saturday night’s events, and the look of glee never left your face as you recounted Paige’s intoxicating touches and the effects of her kisses.

You were programmed to be the tiniest bit cynical, though, so you had woken up Sunday morning, mentally preparing yourself to be let down easily by the tall blonde. You knew someone who was as adored as Paige had many options, so you were prepared for the worst. But it never came.

She had welcomed you into her circle with wide arms, and that was becoming even more glaringly obvious as you checked your phone after your night out. Drunk messages littered your home screen, and your heart soared at the outpouring love you felt from your new friends.

The week passes quickly as the new school year begins. The classwork is unrelenting, but it was a nice distraction. Your thoughts had been clouded with images of Paige’s eyes and her hands. You could close your eyes and almost smell her perfume, and you could nearly feel her touch, leaving goosebumps scatter across your sensitive skin.

You consider Paige’s proposal for the millionth time. Was it completely ridiculous to want to give in and do it? You were worried that the friendship you had built with Paige and her friends the past week would get ruined in the weirdness that would inevitably develop, yet the idea was so gloriously tempting.

Your mind floats back to the kisses you had shared last weekend, and a building ball of want stirs in your belly. You groan, flopping back into your mound of pillows, your hand resting on your bare stomach. You trail it lower, grazing over your panties, causing a jolt to run through you. Your hips stutter as your middle finger dances over your clit, experimenting with the pressure. You had dabbled in self-pleasure before, but typically avoided it out of embarrassment and a general lack of knowledge.

Pulling aside your panties, you run a few fingers through your folds, gathering your slick and carrying on with tight circles. Pressure starts to build before you hear your roommates outside your door, effectively killing the mood.

You sigh, pulling your shorts back on and head into your bathroom to wash your hands. As you dry them, you gaze at yourself in the mirror. You had decided.

Paige Bueckers was going to teach you everything you needed to know. And while the thought absolutely terrified you, the temptation of Paige’s touch gave way to any fears. You knew that you could not continue being the shy, timid girl forever, and someone who you liked actually liked you. The thought of remaining innocent and untouched any longer was nearly unbearable. So before you could talk yourself out of it, you send a quick text to Paige, letting her know that you had finally decided.

She quickly sends back an enthusiastic reply, sending a wave of butterflies through your belly in anticipation.

‘Of course, I will help! Aubrey will be gone tonight. Want to come over around 8?’

‘Sounds good :)’

Shit. Things just got real.

The day flies by, and before you know it, you are once more standing in front of Paige’s day, struggling to gather the courage to knock. You do so, hesitantly, and she wrenches the door open with a huge grin, pulling you into a hug.

“Are ya ready?” She questions, waggling her eyebrows at you to lighten your nervous mood, and she takes your hand, pulling to sit on the couch.

You sit down next to her, the warmth of her closeness clouding your senses. You bite your lip in anticipation and play with a lock of hair with your free hand.

“Hey,” she whispers, wanting you to meet her heated gaze. Her bright blue eyes were ablaze with desire and determination. “You still want to do this? We can go as slow as you want. You’re in control, baby,” she reassures, the tone of her voice lulling you into a calmer state of mind.

“Course I do, P,” you say, already moving forward to pull her in for a kiss.

Paige’s eyes widen at your sudden boldness before she smirks and pulls you in, meeting your lips with the delicious fervor you had grown accustomed to. She lets you take control this time, and as you reach up to cup her jaw, she lets out a quiet moan. It adds fuel to the fire, and you detach your lips to place hot, open-mouthed kisses down the base of her throat.

“Fuck, baby,” she mumbles hoarsly eyes still closed in pleasure. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Books,” you giggle, hands covering your mouth as you laugh at the hilarity of it.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You gonna let me teach you all of my tricks now?” She asks smugly, fingers dancing across the exposed skin of your upper thigh.

“Please do,” you nearly whine, the build up leaving you breathless and needy, and Paige pulls you in, determined to show you the many benefits of being with an experienced woman.

And boy, were there a lot.

Thanks for reading I love you guys!!! Hope you enjoyed :)

xoxo katy

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x you #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies

983 notes · View notes

oatmealwrites · 6 months ago

Text

A Night To... Forget? Ch. 3

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 2 | Part 4

(A night to forget masterlist)

Synopsis: You relay what Toshinori tells you about Friday night to Keigo, and finally meet with Aizawa for coffee and to pick up your jacket. Deciding to follow through on your drunk dinner plans, the both of you make a... date? Just two working adults planning dinner, nothing more.

Tags: It's getting NSFW, masturbation (m and f), mentions of alcohol, use of vibrator, horny thoughts, shower masturbation, cumming, mentions thoughts of: oral, creampie, tied up, degradation, p in v, car sex, and hickies; 18+, MDNI, plot & porn

Word count: 6.4k

(finally part 3! and it's getting steamy hehe. im planning for pt 4 to be absolute filth)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Last Friday Night - 12:13 am [Toshinori’s Recount]

The bar is blaring music while patrons are scattered around the property: the bartender is busy with orders, drunk couples are swaying to the beat, and a handful of people are smoking outside and enjoying some fresh air. Toshinori is shuffling through the jackets littered on your group’s booth seats looking for his coat while Keigo and Tsukauchi play darts, Kayama and Yamada are making song requests, and you and Aizawa are lingering at the billiards table.

King’s Cup ended around 15 minutes ago, and when everyone left the table to scatter around the bar, Toshinori was left people watching. Keigo hasn’t landed a single dart on the board since the game began, the college-aged employee in charge of the bar aux seemed to not recognize any of the songs Yamada was asking about, and you and Aizawa were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t even notice the small and annoyed queue of people waiting for the pool table.

Even if Toshinori wasn’t sober, it would take a painfully oblivious person to ignore the synergy going on between you both. Unlike your other friends, who hover and talk amongst each other, you have an arm wrapped around Aizawa’s bicep like you need it to stand and his eyes never leave yours as if you’d disappear if he blinked.

“Those two sure are friendly~”

Toshinori looks up and laughs airly at Kayama who has returned from harassing the employee and left Yamada yelling his ear off about a band. She watches the way Aizawa holds your arms and stands behind you to assist in lining up a shot on the table while letting out a low whistle.

“Young love I suppose?”

“Young? That would make you old,” Kayama cackles and shoves the deflated man’s shoulder. “Cut yourself some slack.”

Toshinori shakes his head and laughs, silently wondering if Tsuakauchi would also want to leave, or if he should order a ride.

“...it’s the best Italian restaurant nearby.”

“ –Let’s go.”

The sound of your and Aizawa’s voice is loud enough to break him from his thoughts and he turns to observe your interaction once again. Leaning against the pool table and swaying the cue stick from hand to hand, you stare up at Aizawa with stars in your eyes. Only a blind person could miss it, and the tinge of red on Aizawa’s cheeks is enough indication that he’s effectively starstruck.

Toshinori laughs once again with a genuine smile and moves to slip on his winter coat and tug the zipper up to keep warm. Kayama leans against the table with a different kind of smile and nudges her friend’s shoulder.

“Who would’ve thought it would only take months for either one of them to make a move?”

Toshinori hums and throws a scarf Midoriya had gifted him around his neck. “Wel,l given their careers it makes sense. Heroes know how dangerous it is to love anybody… it makes them a target for villains to leverage.”

Kayama nods that she heard him, but it’s clear she wasn’t really listening. As philosophical and correct as Toshinori was, she was looking for a juicier answer. The two now watch you yelling at Keigo for nearly hitting you with a dart after he tried to do a ‘360 bullseye’ and spun around before letting go of the dart wayyy too early.

Both Toshinori and Kayama don’t miss the way Aizawa’s hand slides from your back to your waist the moment Keigo enters the conversation. While to them, your bickering with Keigo is nearly familial, Aizawa’s gaze on the man has Kayama and Toshinori wondering if he was about to use erasure again this evening on him.

“Well,” says Toshinori, looking at Tsukauchi who has wandered to the bar to join Yamada in ordering another round, “I’ll be heading home now. Let me know when you all do the same.”

“I can do you one better.”

Toshinori looks up from the rideshare app and raises an eyebrow at the woman; she slides her cell phone from her purse and opens the camera feature.

“It’s a bad idea–”

“–It’s a favor! What if they don’t remember the name of the restaurant they said they wanted to go to?”

Toshinori knows that isn’t the real reason she wants to film and take photos; blackmail and torment seem much more in line with her motives. Regardless, he makes no effort to stop her and shakes his head while heading for the exit. Even if you and Aizawa happen to forget the evening due to alcohol, surely you’ll make up and resume where you left off. Right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Current Day: Sunday, 11am

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Keigo sits lazily on your apartment couch while cuddling one of your throw pillows into his chest; he raises an eyebrow at the abrupt end to your story.

“Soooo… all Toshinori said was that you guys were grinding on each other while playing pool?”

You pause from your anxious pace around the coffee table and roll your eyes. “No. He said we were kinda touchy and made dinner plans.”

Keigo shrugs and lays down further on the couch; his back rests against the arm rest and his legs are spread with one on the cushions and the other dangling to the floor. Your hair steadily drips from your shower earlier and you’ve finally changed out of sweatpants and into a pair of jeans.

“I just don’t get why he wouldn’t bring up the dinner plans if he did remember last Friday.”

Keigo throws the pillow up above his head before catching it and throwing it in the air again. “Maybe he doesn’t remember after all?”

You continue pacing again and bite at the edges of your cuticles in anxious thought. “I mean that’s possible…but he was acting so weird yesterday. He ended the conversation immediately after I said I didn’t remember anything.”

With another bite at your hangnail your heart drops. “What if he remembers and completely regrets it?”

Keigo catches the pillow and turns to you. “Then he wouldn’t text you to make sure you’re ok. He also wouldn’t offer coffee when he returns your jacket tomorrow.”

The reasoning makes sense, but Aizawa’s behavior didn’t. Why wouldn’t he just come forward and say he was drunk and didn’t feel the same? Or if he did feel the same, why not remind you about your poorly planned dinner date?

“Ugh,” you groan, sitting on your living room floor and placing your forehead against the cool glass of the coffee table. “Men are so confusing.”

Keigo laughs and places the pillow on his abdomen while remaining in his comfy position. “Ha! Not really. Even if he is a total stick in the mud, he’s still a guy. So he’s probably after….”

You look up and place your chin on the coffee table; Keigo lifts his hands up to mimic the ‘p in v’ motion with his fingers and cackles when you throw the tv remote at him.

“You’re NOT helping.”

The man shrugs and grabs the pillow off his lap before sliding it under his head and relaxing further onto your sofa. “Yes I am. Just fuck it out of your system and move on. I’d rather talk to you about other stuff that’s not about him.”

You deflate and rest your chin in your hand while you lean against the coffee table again. “Why do you care so much if it’s Aizawa anyways?”

Keigo stretches his hands back and groans at the sensation before sitting up. “I don’t really care that it’s him–” he stops and thinks for a moment. “Ok that actually is the reason.”

You watch and wait for him to elaborate.

“I dunno…You’re like my best friend, and seeing you so hung up on a guy that is the worst at conveying any kind of emotion is fucking annoying. It’s been months without any progress too…”

You sigh and suck the flesh of your cheek between your molars and think about everything. While yes, you normally would move on from a guy that shows zero interest in you, there’s something about him that makes you wanna hold out just a little longer.

“Listen,” Keigo says, pivoting and patting his thighs, ready to stand up. “If he makes you happy then do whatever you want. I still promised I’d help you get in his pants, and I’m a man of my word.”

He shoots you a stupid wink and you roll your eyes, but feel slightly better. While getting in Aizawa’s pants would be amazing, you would still like to actually date him as well. Assuming he actually wants to date you as well.

“Be upfront when you meet with him, yea?”

Keigo stands up and stretches from side to side before padding over to the coat closet by the front door. You watch as he shimmies on his hero jacket and places his usual shades over his eyes.

“I’ve got some meetings and parole so I won’t be around today. Call me after your coffee date~.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday - 12:45 pm

You and Aizawa haven’t texted since Sunday, so when he messages you the location of a nearby cafe to confirm your plans, you nearly considered canceling. To be honest, you had even considered pick-pocketing Keigo’s wallet and stealing his black credit card to just buy a new blazer rather than face Aizawa. It’s not like you were avoiding getting some sort of closure… you were just avoiding him.

Boots rocking on the escalator, you exit the metro station and peer down at the map on your phone before continuing down the street. The anxiety in your gut has been building all morning; forgoing breakfast from the nausea.

Keigo had sent you a simple ‘good luck’ text in the morning and reminded you his phone would be off until the evening when he was finished with work. Your fellow law student friends had also reached out and said they’d be in the area for lunch if you needed a quick escape if things turned south.

Wind picks up and you hug into yourself at the feeling, the temperature dropping drastically over the past few days and causing you to wear your winter coat. Overcast clouds create a dreary atmosphere though people on the streets don’t seem to mind, walking in and out of stores and restaurants on their usual routine.

You notice Aizawa immediately when you turn the corner; dressed in a gray winter coat and black slacks with dark boots, his face immediately softens when he notices you. He slides his phone into his pocket as you walk; turning away slightly, he adjusts the fabric of his pants through his pockets for a brief moment.

Now or never…

You quicken your pace and approach the man, hating the way your heart tugs at the sight of the wind pushing his hair back. The light stubble on his face is gone, indicating he recently shaved, and there’s a light sandalwood scent in the air from his cologne. Despite this being a casual coffee and jacket drop-off, he cleans up nice.

Aside from the way your heart rate picks up, you can feel yourself clench pathetically around nothing. Maybe you really do need to get laid.

“Sorry if I made you wait long.”

Aizawa turns to open the door with the hand not carrying a paper shopping bag, and smiles gently. “No, you didn’t. I just got here a minute ago.”

A hostess from behind the coffee bar immediately greets the two of you and points to an open table to seat yourselves at. When Aizawa walks in front of you towards the table, you miss the way he calms himself with a quiet breath. With shaky hands, he pulls a chair out for you and then takes the one right across; awkwardly, you grab one of the laminated menus from the holder and stare down at the words.

“So…how are you feeling?”

“Oh, better. Not hungover, and considering sobriety for the rest of my life.”

Aizawa scoffs lightly at the joke and peers down at his own menu, the silence heavier than either of you want to admit. Nervously, you shrug off your coat and place it behind you on the chair; you tug at the collar of your sweater once before looking at the menu again.

“How are your cases going? I heard from my students you swung by and spoke with Tokoyami.”

“Yea, Keigo had sent him to pick up my files by accident.”

Aizawa looks up and hangs on to every word, a slight furrow in his brows. “Oh. Do you and...him, work on cases a lot?”

You shake your head lightly while glancing out the cafe window to watch the wind pick up and a light drizzle hit the pavement. “No, not really. He was just wayyy too fucked up Friday to tell left and right apart.”

“I see.”

Aizawa nods and waits a beat before looking back down at his menu and thumbing the edge of the lamination side to side in thought.

“I’m working on the case with Vlad King though,” the forced nature of the conversation lifts slightly to something more casual, “so I’ll be at the conference tomorrow to run over everything before the prosecution starts next week.”

Aizawa hums and nods once again before looking back down. It’s painfully obvious you both want to discuss what was really going on between you both. Though, while you sit in your chair anxiously wondering how to accuse him of remembering Friday night, he sits across from you internally preparing for a humiliating rejection. Aizawa sucks in a deep breath and places his menu on the table.

“Listen, I want to–” “Have you decided on anything to drink?”

The waitress cuts Aizawa off and fishes out a pen from her pocket while holding a paper notepad. He coughs lightly and orders a black coffee and pauses for you to order your preferred caffeinated beverage.

When she returns to the counter to prepare the drinks, you turn your gaze back to the man across from you. “Sorry, you were saying?”

Aizawa looks at you a beat longer than natural, and blinks before turning out the window and shaking his head slightly.

“Oh, nothing.”

You swallow thickly and wince while Aizawa sits in self-deprecation for making the scene even more awkward than before. Now. Or. Never.

This is the only moment you have to get clarification, and while your ego may be bruised for 10-15 years, you can’t take another anxious sleepless night.

“Do you remember something about an Italian restaurant… from Friday night?”

Even though this is the moment Aizawa’s been preparing for since Saturday, it doesn’t calm his heart rate at all. He’s imagined this moment a million different ways for the past two days, and each outcome has him feeling more dejected than the previous one.

Guilt weighs in his gut heavier than he anticipated, and with a defeated sigh he locks eyes with you. “Yes. Yes, I do remember that.”

You wet your lips and nod gently. “I see…so why didn’t you mention it before? When I visited the school campus on Saturday?”

He knows exactly why he didn’t bring it up, though in effort to spare his already deflated self-image, Aizawa shrugs lightly. “I didn’t want to make things awkward. Or…more awkward than they probably are.”

It’s not an outright rejection, but the uncertainty of his intentions doesn’t help you relax at all. Judging by the way he’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window, he’s not showing all his cards.

“I mean…Toshinori told me vaguely about Friday. He said we spoke about going there, together.”

“Yea,” he takes a long sigh and drags his eyes back to yours. “We did.”

There’s a pause between you both as you collectively acknowledge the implication of that proposal, but neither one wants to be the first one to call it out. You pick at your nails for a moment beneath the table, palms beginning to sweat.

Aizawa takes a breath and collects himself, silently wishing this topic could’ve happened after he gave you the jacket and paid for coffee. At least that way he could leave promptly after humiliating himself. But this conversation needed to happen, he needs to get you out of his head already.

“We can still go,” you say, breaking the silence and feeling your ribs about to crack from your heartbeat, “if you want to.”

Your proposal is obviously not what he was expecting to leave your mouth. Instead of staring out the window partially aloof, he holds your gaze with his mouth open slightly and eyes open so wide he’s unsure if he even heard you correctly.

“You want to go…?”

“I mean if you don’t want to–”

“–No!” Aizawa coughs slightly afterward, cheeks twined pink in the embarrassment of his outburst. “I mean.. I want to go there, but I’m just surprised.”

Good surprised? Or bad surprised?

Regardless, you nod slightly and try to make the proposal as casual as you can muster given the situation.

“Yea, why not? I mean, you said it’s really good and I’m curious to try it.”

Ok, casual. So casual.

Your internal pep talk qualms your anxiety a bit while Aizawa continues looking at you in awe the proposal. His silence makes you squirm a bit and prepare to take back the offer if he didn’t want to before he finally musters a response.

“Yea… ok. Let’s go.”

A slight heat on your cheeks, Aizawa blinks a few times before his mind finally catches up with what is currently happening.

“When are you free? I’m usually out of classes by the early evening, grading papers and exams are something I can move around more easily.”

With a hum, you both take out your phones and begin examining your own schedules and the moment diffuses to a more natural conversation. Small talk about your own classes, his busier weekends when hero training happens with field trips, and your collective efforts in fighting villains flows smoothly between you both. It's the longest you’ve both gone without one of you finding an excuse to leave; well, besides last Friday night.

“We’ve got the case debrief tomorrow… Maybe Thursday?”

“Ah, I have an evening seminar that day with a guest professor… Does next Wednesday work?”

Aizawa scrolls to the next week on his phone and nods in approval. “Yea that works. I’m finished teaching by 5pm.”

You open your ‘events’ tab to insert the meeting. “Ok! Maybe we can go at 7? 7:30?”

The man across from you hums and begins typing. “Yes, 7pm works perfect for me.”

“Ok, nice! It’s a dat–”

“Your drinks! Sorry for the delay, we had an influx of to-go orders.” The waitress places two drinks in front of you both and bows slightly in apology before retreating once again.

Despite her interruption for a second time, you’re extremely grateful for it cutting you off. Date? It’s not a date right?

If Aizawa heard your Freudian slip, he makes no effort to show it on his face. Instead, he lifts the ceramic mug to his lips and blows the steam away slightly; his shoulders are relaxed as he leans back in his chair for the first time since you’ve entered the coffee shop.

“I had your blazer dry cleaned by the way. I think some of that mystery liquid from the drinking game got on it at some point.”

You lift your drink to your lips and mirror his relaxed position. “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!”

Despite your words, you are actually extremely grateful he did so; law school students aren’t exactly the most financially liquid.

He shrugs and takes a sip. “It’s no worry, really.”

The conversation flows naturally for another 30 minutes before Aizawa checks his phone and tilts his head as his lunch break is nearly over. Despite the rocky start at the beginning of the meeting, the two of you have left little silence between each other. From discussing plans you had with other friends over the weekend to sharing his life-hacks for getting better nights sleep, time had escaped rather quickly.

Before you can shimmy on your coat and dig in the pockets for your wallet, Aizawa walks over to the counter and explains your orders to the employee. Seamlessly, he offers his credit card and signs the receipt all by the time you finally make it over to him.

“Thank you! Come again!”

The wind is brutal on your face the moment you step out of the cafe with Aizawa holding the door open. You zip up your jacket better to keep warm and tuck your hands in your pockets despite the handles of the paper bag awkwardly jutting out.

“You didn’t have to pay by the way.”

“Hm?” He tucks up the collar on his coat and brings his shoulders up to cover his ears from the wind. “Just… buy mine later?”

The suggestion brings a pink to your cheeks, but the wind piercing your skin provides an excuse for it. You both walk about a block down the road before parting ways with a slight wave; even if Keigo was busy, you pull up his contact anyways and hit ‘dial’.

~~~~~~~

The rest of Monday passed as it usually would; two afternoon and evening classes had you returning to your apartment just in time for dinner and Keigo had already inquired about everything after his last meeting ended. Sitting on your sofa and rubbing your eyes slightly from a late night study session, you consider calling it an early night.

During both of your classes you couldn’t sit still at all. Phone under the table and texting your friends updates on what happened made you feel like you were in high school all over again. Of course, neither you nor Aizawa confirmed what next week’s… meeting really was. There was no mention of it being a date, so part of you wanted to simply label it dinner with a colleague.

It made sense rationally. Both of you adults with your own schedules and work life; it’s not like either of you had asked the other out. He had ended the jacket-drop off promising to send you the restaurant information tomorrow, needing some time to make the reservation before getting your hopes up and sending you a copy of the menu.

The only thing weighing you down was that Aizawa had remembered the initial plans and chose not to say anything.

Sliding your textbook off your lap and standing up from the couch with a stretch, you pad over to the kitchen still considering everything. It made sense he would want to avoid mentioning it, especially if you didn’t even remember the plans. The main question you now wondered was if he remembered more of Friday than you have currently figured out.

You chew on your lower lip with your canines and open your cupboard to take out a wine glass and blow away any dust from the inside. Toshinori’s recommendation of asking Kayama still hangs in the air, but you’ve had enough stress for one evening.

Opening your fridge, you pull out a cheap bottle of pinot grigio and tilt your hip to shut the door. You have no plans of getting shitfaced, but a glass of wine to end the evening seemed to be calling your name. Undoing the screw cap, you pour a generous glass before returning the bottle to the fridge and heading into your bedroom.

Door shut, warm floor lamp on, and wine on your night stand, the scene stirs a feeling different from sleep. Slipping under the comforter and top sheet, you lean against the headboard and pillows and consider ending your evening a bit differently than initially planned.

You lean over and grab your current book from its spot next to you on the bed and place it on your nightstand before opening the top drawer. A familiar pink shade of silicon greets you as you reach down and pick up the vibrator from its spot. Running your hands over the buttons, you power it on and feel the vibration gently tremor in your hand with enough force to give the impression of it being half charged.

Nodding in approval, you power it off for a moment and turn to take a few long sips of wine and relax back into your pillows. Cheeks feeling flush from the alcohol and serenity of the moment, you place the glass back down and pinch the waistband of your sleep shorts between your fingers and pull the fabric down along with your panties.

Sighing at the sensation, you reach over and power on the vibrator before lowering it to kiss your clit. Fuck, you really needed this.

Keigo is the last thing on your mind, but he really wasn’t wrong when he said you needed to get laid.

Shutting your eyes and imaging the scenario in your mind, Aizawa’s face flashes into perfect view. Long hair tousled in every direction, a body sculpted from marble from years of physical work, and dexterous fingers exploring your body have you arching your hips in anticipation.

Just envisioning the scenario has you grinding into the vibrator to increase the stimulation on your puffy clit. Lowering the device to take some of the wetness from your cunt as lube, you bring the vibrator back up and rub smooth circles on your clit.

It’s wrong to imagine him so objectively, but at this point you don’t really care. Would he be gentle? The strong, silent type to make love with passion? Or would he be just as sexually pent up as you? Bending you over and fucking you hard and rough while nasty words left his lips?

You’re sure he has fans and admirers; or even fellow heroes that had a much better chance of experiencing this fantasy than you. But the image of him splitting you open on the mattress while his lips suck possessive bruises into your neck make the worry instantly dissipate.

Gentle sighs leave your lips as the scene becomes clear in front of you. Normally when you have sex with anyone, it’s relatively tame and vanilla; in your head, it becomes so much more disgusting. Would he tie you up? Leave you at his mercy while he pounds into your cunt and fills you with cum? Erase your quirk and give you a mind shattering orgasm; then splay your thighs open once again because he can’t let you leave forgetting it?

The degrading thought creates a bigger gush from your pussy than your ego can ever admit. Flicking the button on the vibrator, you increase the intensity setting and grind your hips down again. Even if it was all in your head, you intend to end this evening with the pleasure you’ve been needing for too damn long.

~~~~~~~

Monday evening: Same time

AIZAWA POV

Tired eyes shut as Aizawa yawns and pushes away a stack of papers that remain ungraded. Moonlight pouring in from the windows, a single table lamp illuminates the room with a warm glow while the man leans back in his chair with exhaustion. The rest of class went as expected, his students yelling and competing amongst each other while he had to use all the willpower in his body to remain calm despite being anything but that.

Lazily opening his eyes and looking around the lonely apartment that he occupied within the dorm building, Aizawa can’t help but pull out his phone to confirm once again, you both had scheduled a date. Well, neither of you had agreed it was a date, but he swears he had heard you call it one back at the cafe.

Of course, he would still be seeing you in between then and now; a case debrief tomorrow and most likely bumping into each other on UA campus while you worked with other heroes. He was more surprised you had wanted to actually go anywhere with him. It’s not like he was the most conversational guy out there, and considering your best friend was adored and extremely popular, it made little sense you’d want to accompany him to dinner.

Aizawa had been a nervous wreck this morning, giving his students group tasks to keep busy and arriving at the coffee shop 20 minutes early just in case. His students had even noticed the slight change in his appearance, but chose not to say anything out of fear. It’s not like he shaves or tries to clean up very often.

He pushes his chair back and heads to the sink to fill a glass of water, his throat feeling dry and a heavy weight lingers on his shoulders. He still should’ve come clean when you first approached him on campus; he knows it. He also knows it’s only a matter of time before you figure out the rest of what happened that evening, and get frustrated at him for once again not being 100% honest.

Though that’s a bridge he’ll cross when the time comes.

For now, he’s more than delighted by the possibility of there being a chance. A chance you may actually reciprocate a fraction of the feelings he’s been harboring despite his cold shoulder to you for far too long.

Aizawa sips the water and wipes off the drops that escape his lips and glide down his chin. He should shower and try to clear his mind before seeing you tomorrow; take the rest of the evening to relax and sleep.

Placing the glass in the sink, he resolves to do exactly that; walking to the bathroom and sliding open the glass door of the shower to start the water. Leaving it to warm up, he carefully strips down and places dirty clothes into the hamper before opening the sink cabinet to look for a new bottle of shampoo.

Without thinking, he pulls out the spare bottle, but his eyes catch and linger on the familiar clear container that sits in the back of the cabinet. Immediately, his cock twitches slightly and the bathroom begins to fill with steam as hot water pours from the shower head.

He reaches back and pulls it out along with his shampoo before standing upright and thinking it over. Though his body doesn't need any convincing, Aizawa always feels like shit after jerking off to the image of you. It’s more than your body that he’s attracted to, but late evenings and long periods of not getting any action leave his cock slowly stiffening like clockwork.

Immediately, his mind drifts to you and the array of images he’s cultivated in his mind despite his best intentions. The times your blouse has separated at the buttons and given him peaks of your lace bra, the times you’ve leaned over a desk to reach documents and showed off the swell of your ass, and the entirety of Friday night leave Aizawa sucking in a breath as his dick hardens in arousal.

Opening the glass door of the shower and lowering the heat of the water, Aizawa furrows his eyebrows together and rubs his face. He felt like a horny teenager when it came to you. It was so fucking wrong considering you were essentially just work colleagues, who happened to agree to getting dinner.

Aizawa doesn’t appreciate your company simply because you sexually interest him; your charm, wit, and intelligence were more than enough to have him completely at your beck and call if you ever tried. Though the way you purse your lips in thought make him wonder what they’d look like around his cock, the way you tug at the neckline of your sweater make him imagine his own hand around your throat, and the way your thighs look in that professional knee-length pencil skirt leave him envisioning bending you over and hiking the fabric to your waist while he pounds into you.

It’s the same thoughts that pollute his mind more frequently than he could ever admit, and running his head under the water doesn’t dull the painful ache in his cock for relief. Letting the water fully saturate his hair, Aizawa slicks it back from his forehead to remain out of his face while he opens the clear bottle cap.

Reaching up, he pushes the shower head to face the wall slightly and negate the amount of water hitting him before pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand. Snapping the bottle shut and placing it on a ledge within the shower walls, Aizawa reaches down to give himself a few slow pumps.

The sensation makes him sigh and a few pearls of pre cum ooze from his tip as the image in his brain comes into a clear view. It’s the both of you in the back seat of a car, your lipstick smudged from making out, pupils blown with desire, and windows so foggy no one can see inside. Aizawa unbuckles his slacks and tugs the material down to his thighs along with his boxers while you hoist your dress and move to straddle him.

“Fuck..”

Giving attention to his swollen tip, he rubs the large vein on the side of his cock and moves to pump himself more steadily. Hand tight, but not too much pressure, he tugs at an even pace and tries to envision it’s anything but his hand making him feel good.

In his mind, you’re whimpering as he stretches you out so nicely. Tits basically pouring out of the fabric you dare to call a dress, Aizawa keeps his hands steady on your waist to set a rhythm the same speed of his hand right now. That sweet and friendly smile is long gone as you furrow your brows and grind up and down like a needy slut.

“Haaa… nngh”

Shallow pants leave his lips as the vision gets clearer and his hips jerk forward to meet his strokes. As degrading as it was to envision you as sexually desperate as himself, the image was too hot to shake from his brain. The idea of you being as needy and deprived as him, makes the image that much better.

Using him to get off while he enjoys the view of you being so desperate for him and his cock make Aizawa bite his lip and increase the speed of his hand. Fog still pouring from above the shower walls, he moves to better massage the tip and increase the pressure a tad. Balls feeling heavy and hips twitching slightly, the familiar coil in his abdomen begins to build.

Where would you let him cum? In your pretty hands that he’ll pay to have manicured if you ask? On your face; cum staining your cheeks and strands of your hair? Or maybe your mouth? Sticking out your tongue to prove you swallowed it all.

“Oh… f-fuck… y/n..”

Your name leaves his lips in messy mumbles while hand moves to increase the speed and focus on his tip as pre cum drips down pathetically onto the tiles. Maybe you’d let him cum inside? Let him be the only guy that gets to stuff your little cunt and see it slowly seep out while you lay in a fucked out haze.

“Haaaa…. Shit–”

With an almost pained sigh, Aizawa twitches his hips erratically to meet the thrust of his hand and cums. Hard. Hot ropes of semen ooze from the tip and paint his hand, part of his thighs, and the tiles of the shower floor. The heat from the cum is noticeable despite the warm water temperature, and the sensation of his orgasm leaves him leaning against the wall.

Cool tiles bring comfort to his skin while he catches his breath and tries to ignore the guilty post-nut clarity washing over him. He never felt relief or contentment after jerking off to you; it only made it worse. Aizawa couldn’t be satisfied with his imagination, he needed to know if you were just as amazing in real life as in his horny fantasies.

Coming down from his high and reaching up to tilt the shower head back onto his body, he sighs and washes off the evidence from his skin. Once it’s all effectively drowned down the drain, he reaches for his usual body wash and suds up while exhaustion washes over him.

Scars and bruises litter his torso, and washing off the soap makes him momentarily self conscious for the state of his own appearance. The thought passes, having no solution to remove scars and accepting them, but his gaze lingers on his softening cock.

Dark hairs litter his navel and descend into a relatively untamed bush that spreads around the base of his shaft and balls. He doesn’t expect to get lucky at all during this dinner ‘date’. But…he supposes cleaning up wouldn’t hurt and makes a mental note to purchase a new razor for his body.

Finishing up his routine, he shuts the water and steps out in the bathroom to dry off and wrap a towel around his waist before stepping into the bedroom. Steam pours out of the room and creates a slight fog while the overhead lights from above the sink illuminate his room in a dull glow.

It’s not messy, though several dishes, coffee cups, and papers litter his desk and floor. Once again, he doesn’t expect anything from this dinner, but the moment leaves him a mental note to also clean up and change his sheets. Stepping to his dresser, he tugs out a pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs and sleep pants before stepping into them, forgoing a shirt.

Flipping the towel over and shaking out the remaining water from his hair, Aizawa throws the cloth over his bathroom door and shuts off the lights. Crawling into bed and shivering at the cool temperature of the sheet on his bare skin, guilt still gnaws at him.

You would never see him in the same pathetic way he was mentally tortured to see you every evening. You were friendly and respectful, giving him chance after chance to explain himself despite his dishonesty. He sighs and leans into the pillow before wrapping the blankets around him similar to the way a sleeping bag would.

Be professional. A case debrief and casual dinner the following week. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

Sleep finds him easier this evening than he would expect; relief on his shoulders as he imagines the reason you offered dinner was because maybe you did feel the same.

Ty for ur patience on this series! I have the plot and smut all planned out, but traveling and laptop issues have delayed it a bit ;-; also the next chapters will keep getting steamier so buckle in ;)

lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist! & happy new year!

comments/likes/reblogs are all appreciated! ╰(´︶`)╯♡

-oatmeal

Tag list: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351

#aizawa shōta #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa shota smut #aizawa smut #aizawa shouts x reader smut #aizawa shota x reader smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #oatmealwrites #oatmealwordsaizawa

163 notes · View notes

springismss · 16 days ago

Note

hi! do you think i could get a reconciling story between afab reader and present mic meeting as adults. they dated briefly in ua but broke up on semi-bad terms (his grief after oboro’s death took a toll on their relationship) but they never really stopped loving each other even after they graduated and she moved away for uni (featuring post makeup sex lol)

ᱬ⛧ i miss you ~ present mic

pairing: present mic x afab ex! reader

content: 18+ mdni. drinking, club environment, not quite drunk yamada, cunnilingus, implied multiple orgasms, p in v, reader gets called princess/good girl/sweetheart, implied multiple rounds, general NSFW content.

word count: 1.8k

links: request materlist | bnha/mha masterlist | masterlist

a/n: thanks so much for the request anon! i'm not going to lie, i've never written for mic before, so i apologise in advance if this isn't as good as my other works (i'm not a mic girl 🫣). fingers crossed this is what you wanted, sorry it took a little longer than i'd like to get out but i hope you enjoy! as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

The heavy bass thumped through the room, bodies huddled together in a variety of different dance moves. Lights flickered and moved, adding to the atmosphere around.

Resting against the bar, you held a glass in your hand as you scanned the room, a contented smile tugging at your lips. It was another night since you finished your set, another night where you spent time watching the next DJ.

Shuffling could be heard beside you, something not out of the ordinary, so you paid no attention to it, figuring it to be one of the clubgoers. That was until you heard his voice as clear as day.

A voice you thought you had long forgotten about.

Casting your gaze to the side, your breath hitched as your grip tightened on the glass. "Hizashi?". The name slipped easily past your lips like it did a lifetime ago.

At the sound of their name, the person froze slightly, taking a moment before turning their head to face you. Those eyes you'd forced yourself to forget stared back at you. "Is that you, little note?". Humming out, you nodded your head and smiled, fighting back the hurt feeling you felt stirring deep in your gut.

Years prior, both of you had attended U.A. High, forming not only a close friendship but a loving relationship. You were practically inseparable at the best of times.

Whenever Aizawa or Oboro wanted to find him, they only needed to look for you. Wherever you were, there he was always glued to your side. A relationship that seemed to defy the odds.

Then came the death of Oboro. Of course, you took it hard; you had grown quite attached to the energetic boy. But no one took it as badly as Aizawa and Yamada. Their close friend was taken too early while out on his Hero Work-Studies.

The pair of you grew distant, not wanting to be around the other while you came to terms with what had happened. The strain beginning to show the cracks in your already doomed relationship.

Snappy words and harsh comments caused you both to call it an end, a sour taste left in your mouths. "How dare you say I haven't been there for you, Hazashi? I've tired my damn hardest and you keep pushing me away. I can't do this anymore!".

No sooner had the words left your mouth, he broke it off with you. He said he didn't want the constant nagging, and you were becoming overbearing. Yamada walked away that day as you screamed at him to come, to face you properly, hurt clear in your voice.

Once you had finally graduated from U.A, you made the choice to leave. Leave the city and move away to where no one knew you. Starting a fresh once you set foot through the doors of the university you'd been accepted into.

While you welcomed the change, a chance to finally be someone you always wanted to be, you couldn't deny the fact that you missed your old life. The people you grew up with and the memories you'd made.

Most of all, part of you still missed Yamada. Sure, you two may have ended things on bad terms, but he was still a part of your life. Part of you still craved him, to have him tell you everything was alright while you were cuddled up in his arms.

He made you feel safe. Like everything wrong with the world was suddenly alright.

Bringing the glass back up to your lips, you took a sip while blinking back the tears. The memories still painful at best. "So what brings you here then?". Letting the glass fall from your lips, you let the liquid run down your throat, trying to give yourself more time to calm yourself. "Me? Oh, I've just finished my set, wanted to stay and watch the others".

Casting your gaze to the side, you saw him nodding his head. An awkward silence fell between you both as neither of you dared talk. A silence that was soon broken when Yamada spoke. "Why don't we go and sit down? I've got a lot of apologising to do".

Slipping into the booth, you placed your glass on the table, foot tapping on the floor while you waited for what he had to say. "I'm sorry, little note. I was a fucking idiot and I shouldn't have taken it out on you".

Closing your eyes, you sucked in a breath, taking a moment to calm yourself. "Hizashi, you broke my heart. You neglected me and made me suffer. I get it, you lost your friend, but I was your girlfriend. I was hurting too, I needed you....".

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you steadied yourself, heart beating erratically in your chest. "...I fucking needed you. You weren't the only one who was torn apart by what happened to Oboro".

"I know, I was selfish. You took it just as hard as me and Shota. You were there for both of us while you were grieving yourself, and I couldn't even be there for you...". You heard him pause, calming himself as his voice cracked.

"...I called you overbearing and said you were nagging too much. I realised not long after that you weren't. You were trying to do what any amazing girlfriend would do, making sure her boyfriend had all the support he needed. And I fucked that up by letting you go, I'm sorry".

Sniffling, you blew out a breath, tears pricking at your eyes as you looked at him. All the heartbreak and pain you felt melted away when you caught his eyes, stray tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked at you.

He looked just as broken as he did that day, the day that made you hate being at U.A. Reaching your hand forward, you placed your fingers to his cheek and wiped away the droplets, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Only took you this long to admit your were a fucking idiot, Hizashi".

From that point on, the conversation flowed as easily as it ever did. Heart to hearts finally out in the open, and a friendship reconciled.

Bodies soon shifted from the club, and the numbers dwindled until only a few remained. Letting out a small laugh, you stood up and grabbed hold of Yamada as you helped him stand. The male was a little too tipsy, even for your liking. "Come on, let's get you back to mine. You can stay the night and pull yourself together".

The sound of the door clicking shut sounded as you placed your keys to the side, peeling off your jacket and shoes with a sigh of relief. Turning around, you stepped forward towards the man you brought back, lips parted to speak.

Only the words never left your mouth. It all happened too fast, in a blur of colours, you found yourself pulled into a body, arms wrapping around you as lips crashed onto yours. Your breath caught in your lungs as you felt yourself slowly losing any restraint you had, tongues seemingly dancing together.

Breaking the kiss, you panted softly, cheeks flushed as you looked up. Gripping hold of Yamada's top, you tugged him with you as you stepped back. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable".

Clothes lay scattered across the floor as whimpers echoed around the room. Arching your back, you covered your mouth with your hand while the other was tangled in blonde hair. "Hah, Hiza, feels so good".

Letting out another whine, you moved your hand from your mouth, running it down your neck until you reached your chest. Closing your eyes, you placed your hand on your breast and began to roll the palm across your nipple. The feeling causing you to arch your back more. "So needy".

Open your eyes, you looked down and smiled before chewing on your bottom lip. You could feel yourself slowly losing it, nearly on the cusp of that beautiful euphoria that would zap through your body. "Please, please".

"All in good time, princess". The way his voice had dropped caused you to shiver, lips parting to speak again before you moaned out, the feeling of being stretched taking you by surprise. Slender fingers tapping against that spongy spot deep inside. "Come on, sweetheart, let go for me".

The bubbling feeling kept building in your gut until it overflowed. A strangled cry passed your lips as you felt your walls tighten around the fingers nestled deep inside. "Such a good girl, now, let's turn that volume up, shall we?".

Body pressed closer together, the feeling of the mushroom head of Yamada's cock pressing against your cunt, prodding slowly for a few seconds before he pushed his hips forward. The beautiful stretch of your pussy walls a welcoming feeling to you both. "Fuck, baby, you take my cock so well".

So began a dance to an invisible beat, fingers intertwined together as hips thrusted. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled his body closer to yours. Normally, you would have taken your time, gone through the motions, but right now, you were more than happy to just have him buried deep inside.

Movements were sloppy, kisses were rushed, but you didn't care. Neither of you did as you found your body in a different position. Hands gripping your hips as you let your hands fall onto Yamada's chest, steadying yourself as you began to bounce. Moving in a steady rhythm that had that pleasure slowly build up deep in your gut.

"I know you're close, little note. Fall apart for me". The feeling of thrusts matching yours made your head fall back, moans of desperation passing your lips. The way the head of his cock was thumping against that spongy spot made your body heat up, teetering on the edge, ready to fall to your pleasure at any moment.

"Hah, Hiza, fuck, need all of you". Letting your head fall forward, you shifted your position and lay on top of his. The new angle cause his cock to slip deeper inside, stretching you a little more. "Need you to fill me so full".

Hands squeezed your hips slightly, helping you move faster. Lips crashing on yours once again in desperation. Tongues dancing once more, hungry for more as you felt that knot tighten. Tighten until it snapped, moans swallowed up by the kiss you both shared.

Kiss getting greedier with harsher snaps of Yamada's hips until he came to a stop, cock twitching as he flooded you with his cum. The heat causing you to shiver as you pulled apart, panting as you both basked in the afterglow.

Despite what you had both been through, neither of you forgot about the other. There was always a place in your hearts for the other. Mistakes were made, things were said, but right at this moment, all that mattered was being together again.

You didn't know where this would lead. What would happen when reality sets in, but right now, you were together as one. Reunited at last, fate bringing you both together once more.

73 notes · View notes

billspaid · 2 months ago

Text

Langdon goes back to work after 10 months. This is what I think happens during that time.

First, after Robby finds out, he sits in his car and tries to convince himself it’s not that bad. He drives around for a while and then parks a few houses down from his own because what the fuck is he supposed to say to Abby? He then gets an alert about pittfest and decides fuck it, they need my help I’m going back.

After him and Robby have it out in the ambulance bay, he goes home. Kids are asleep but he checks on them anyway before showering. Abby wakes up when he slips into bed and asks him if he’s okay. He nods, mumbles something like “I’m okay. Go back to sleep.” He doesn’t sleep.

The next day, he tells Abby he’s got a few days off and tries to convince her to take some days off work so they can go into the countryside. She tells him she can’t at such late notice and tells him to take the kids to school/daycare. He goes crazy sitting at home.

The fourth day he ends up at Robby’s door because he knows it’s his day off. Robby tells him he physically cannot come back to work unless he fixes up - he will not allow Langdon into the doors of the ER unless there’s proof of sobriety.

Langdon hides the fact that he’s not going to work buy waking up early and spending his day at the park. He decides to just go cold turkey. It’s only benzos, he can do this himself. Not reason to land somewhere as serious as rehab, it’s not even that bad of a problem.

His own try at sobriety lasts maybe 2 and a half days. He ends up dipping into his emergency supply of pills because he can’t get them at the hospital anymore.

He runs out of them in about 4 days. This is when he starts to get really pissy. Arguing with Abby, every little thing sets him off, he even raises his voice at Tanner. Abby tells him to piss off until he’s calmed down. He leaves the house and tries to suppress the itch with alcohol. It doesn’t work but he does end up tracking down Louis, the drunk that he stole drugs off. Langdon knows the bars he frequents so when he meets him, he tries to ask, very casually if he has anything on him and to his disappointment he doesn’t.

He ends up back home and downs some of Abby’s Xanax. He wakes up in a pile of his vomit with Tanner shaking his shoulder asking if he can have a banana.

Later that night, after he realised what a fucking idiot he was being, he tells Abby that he hasn’t been to work in two weeks. She doesn’t seem surprised by this. He tells her that he got into trouble for stealing. Stealing what, she asks. So he tells her, stealing benzodiazepines. Why did you steal them, Frank, she asks but he’s sure she knows the answer. Because I think I have a problem, he says and it’s the first time he’s ever said it out loud.

Abby helps him book himself into rehab. She tells him that she’s proud of him and that they’re going to get through this.

He lasts maybe a week. He gets home and tells Abby it was like hell and how he can do it from home, he can become sober at home.

It takes him 2 weeks to realise he can’t. It takes a very serious phone call from his sister and panicked phone call to Robby because he just needs something tonight, just tonight and he’ll fix up tomorrow. He just needs something tonight.

Robby picks him up and takes him home after seeing the look on Abby’s face. Frank cries himself to sleep and the two of them go back to rehab the next day. Robby watches him sign his name and then tells him it’s going to be hard, it’s supposed to be. He tells him that there are people counting on him on get better. He tells him about the people they see everyday, good people who have families but can’t seem to get better. Robby tells him he has to try because after this, he’s not sure he can help again.

Langdon hates rehab but he sticks with it. He does the 30 days and it gets a lot harder before it gets better. It doesn’t even really get better. He comes home after 30 days and has a panic attack when he sees Abby’s Xanax pills. He goes back to rehab.

After another 60 days, Frank feels just good enough to leave. He’s been sober about 3 months. But going home is more difficult that he realised. He’s constantly on edge, constantly shaking and constantly wondering if this is all worth it.

He goes to NA meetings every day, sometimes twice a day and they suck but listening to the 60 year old man talk about how his kids don’t talk to him freaks him out just enough to make it through the night.

Abby’s great about the whole thing. He can tell she’s entirely upset and overwhelmed but she tries to hide it from him. It makes him feel like shit. He does the kids night time routine and drops them to school in the morning. He ignores Robby’s phone calls. He messages Cassie and asks her how the fuck she does this. They get coffee and she tells him she just does because seeing Harrison smile is better than any drug. Frank hopes he finds it in him to believe that.

He goes stir crazy at home and he declutters everything which is terribly inconvenient for Abby but she bites her tongue. She’s not very happy these days. He listens to medical podcast whilst going on long walks, just close enough to the hospital to see the ambulances pulling in but never close enough to see any of his colleagues.

He cooks, cleans, learns to garden and hates everything about it but his kids giggle when they play dinosaurs before bed and Langdon slowly starts believing what Cassie said.

They get more coffee and she, unprompted, tells him about life at PTMC. He smiles when he learns that Mel is doing well, that Whitaker is keen on doing his first year at PTMC.

There are a few meetings about his return to work. He’ll have to redo part of his residency which is expected. Still kills part of him though.

His therapy reduces from twice a week to once a week. He tells his 56 year old bald therapist named Bobby that he’s sure Abby is staying with him because she feels like she has to. He tells him that he’s scared he’s only sober for his kids and that when they get older he won’t be able to control himself anymore. He tells him that he’s absolutely shitting himself thinking about going back to work, for more than one reason.

He schedules time to meet Santos because he has to apologise to her. He goes into the coffee shop with no intention to do so, instead he just wants to know why she did it. And to his surprise, it was never about him. It wasn’t a personal attack - he was high at work. That was all. He isn’t happy but he understands. He apologises for shouting at her.

July feels long away but it creeps up on him. He starts sleeping in the guest room unless Abby wants him. Even then it feels all too emotional, like she’s scared he’ll crack under her grip. Langdon hates it. He’s nearly 6 months sober now.

A few weeks before he’s due back to work, he has dreams that he walks into the ER and finds his body limp against their pharmacy supply. He doesn’t tell anyone about that. Robby keeps messaging and he reads them without replying. He sees him at the disciplinary meetings in June. Frank avoids his gaze whilst agreeing to the random drug tests and locker searches. It’s humiliating but he still has a medical license.

On July 4th, 6:50am, Langdon stares at the no parking sign in the ambulance bay whilst smoking a cigarette. His chest hurts and he’s not entirely convinced he won’t die here. But then he hears the voice of someone cheerful. “You’re back!” Mel’s grinning up at him. Frank exhales loudly and presses his cigarette against the brick wall. “I’m back.” And then she starts going on about some patient she saw yesterday and he ends up following her in, listening attentively. He ends up by the lockers and realises that it wasn’t so scary after all.

#frank langdon #the pitt #abby langdon #billie’s rambling again #microfic?#I don’t know what to class this as #I think Frank Langdon deserves the world #mel king #cassie mckay #character study

95 notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 2 years ago

Note

Hiii!!! Can you do some phone sex with dbf!joel? I’ve seen it around but I’d love your take on it 😈

Pillow

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: I love you, anon. This is so fun to write! Keep it coming.

Summary: Leaving for college after fucking your dad’s best friend a whole summer is sure to bring along some withdrawals symptoms.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), pillow humping, f masturbation, daddy kink, phone sex, dirty talk, m masturbation, mutual masturbation, somehow also a bit of fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48953992

Pillow

Physically, Joel is annoyingly far away from you when you finally leave for college again, but in your mind, he is very much present all the time during classes. He floods your brain with filth, sweet nothings, a sudden memory of how it feels to kiss him and how his fingers feel inside you.

You miss him and it’s frustrating.

Frustrating to a degree that you haven’t quite experienced before, one that makes you want to say a naughty word just to see him drive across the country to tell you off. It must be withdrawal symptoms, you think, as a result of spending a whole summer being so close to him. Every day bouncing on his dick with his hand on your throat, able to see him, have him, whenever you wanted.

Yes, you have his number in your phone’s contacts, but so far all you have messaged him is that you’ve arrived safely, and his dry response of a simple smiling emoji and a thumbs up tells you that he is not the type to text regularly. You’re surprised he even knows how to use emoticons.

It’s Friday night after your first week back and you are alone in your room. The dormitories are quiet, empty of students who have gone out to celebrate the so far successful survival of being back to having their noses in the books again. Even your roommate has gone out despite her being notoriously known for staying in to read ahead. You wonder if something’s happened to her over the summer that’s changed her — just like you have changed from enthusiastic to filled with dread, unable to say why to anyone.

“Just don’t feel like going out to get hammered,” you’d said instead, head in your pillow as you had tried to hide your blues. Is this heartbreak?

Your face is still squished into your pillow, arms wrapped around it to feel something close to an embrace. All the other decorative ones have been thrown onto the floor. Your blanket has been discarded too since it’s still warm at night. You have one leg tucked under your body as you scroll mindlessly through your Instagram feed and watch stories of people in bars, singing loudly and drinking beer.

It’s been an hour since you texted Joel, the famous non-texter, that you missed him. The radio silence is driving you insane, even more so because you do not wish to be the person who demands constant attention.

But the text has sent your heartbeat skyrocketing. Yet the pulse isn’t just evident in your chest; it’s moved down south so quickly. You miss him, yes, but fuck, you miss his mouth, soft tongue on your clit, pads of his fingers rubbing against that little spot inside you that made you a believer. Though above all, you miss his cock that fits perfectly inside of your, now wet, cunt.

Eyeing the floor, your gaze falls upon your new silk pillow. It was a birthday present from your roommate, something about the silk covering being good for your hair’s health, but right now, it’s going to serve a greater purpose.

You snatch it from the floor and haul it onto the bed, impatiently getting onto your knees to pull your hoodie over your head, exposing your chest, and tug your underwear down to your knees. It’s not like you’re in a hurry since it’s still early, but you are too lazy to take your panties all the way off.

You consider getting up and locking the door for a moment, but you should be able to hear if your drunk roomie stumbles towards your shared room, so the need to get off wins over your laziness once again.

From previous experience, you bunch up the pillow how you like it. The silk is tricky since it’s smoother than your normal pillow, but you manage to straddle the fabric how you want it after holding it in place. It’s so soft and comfortable against your very sensitive skin, cooling against your wet heat.

You reach down between your legs to spread yourself open a little, letting out a soft sound as the bunched-up stuffing of the cushion settles right where you need it the most. Your heart is beating out your chest as you start rutting your pussy against the silk, seeking out some kind of disappearance act for the constant ache and dread in your body from being exposed to missing Joel fucking Miller.

You get lost in the sensation quickly. Warmth spreads across your chest as your breathing becomes heavier. Your sensitive clit throbs, earning friction that gets you humming in pleasure. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel his lips ghosting along your neck and you imagine that he is the one touching you between your legs, chest towards your back, and arm around your waist, so he can cup your mound and plunge two fingers into you. Your walls clench, a higher-pitched moan bouncing off the walls.

You grind harder against the pillow. Your thighs tense a little as you rock back and forth, cunt fluttering as you feel closer to the edge by the second. Oh, how you wish to have his face between your thighs right now. His warm, thick tongue fucking you open as his nose bumps against your swollen nub.

Your hips stutter. Not yet. You wonder if you could wait long enough for a reply. Probably not.

You move to get on your hands and knees, looking down between you and the pillow. There’s a stain on the silk, your arousal having seeped onto the fabric and made a darkened wet patch. Your cunt clenches once more, and another sticky drop of slick drips from you.

“Shit,” you moan quietly at the sight. You are about to reach for your phone to cheekily snap a photo of your mess to send to Joel, but before you can open the camera, a message from Joel ticks in.

You almost come at the mere sight of seeing his name on your phone. It’s still coded in as Joel (dad’s buddy). There’s no need to open it as you read it at the top of the screen.

I have some time. Can I call you? -JM.

You don’t reply. Instead, you call him without a second thought. The beeping sound of your phone ringing has you shivering, but he picks up on the third ring.

“Joel,” you breathe shakily into the receiver.

You hear Joel’s breath hitch in his throat at the tone of your voice. You imagine that he has tensed up since there’s a pause on the other end of the line. Then, “What're you doing?”

“Thinking about you.”

“What are you wearing?” From his tone, you can hear that it’s meant as a joke with a tinge of mockery too. You suppose that you deserve that, but you won’t let him get away with being snarky about this. He needs to know this isn’t just to get adventurous with him, but rather to relieve you of misery.

“Nothing, Daddy, I miss you… It hurts,” you pout despite him not being able to see.

“Where does it hurt?” He plays along. All mockery has vanished. He clears his throat, it sounds dry.

“My little pussy. She needs you,” you make sure your bed squeaks as you start moving on the pillow again. Joel is quiet except for a deep exhale as he listens. It has your head swimming once more in record time, clit throbbing impatiently as you’ve already edged yourself once.

“Fuck, baby. I can hear ya. Got anythin' between those pretty legs?”

“Not my hand,” you say truthfully. You put your phone on speaker to grip the edge of the pillow, snapping your hips forward in your seat.

“What then?”

“My pink silk pillow,” you moan softly as heat starts pooling below your navel again. You want him to join you, but you’re not going to ask.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel breathes deeply in through his nose, a half sigh and moan, “We’ve been apart for a week and you already do this. Gettin' out of hand, baby girl. Don’t ya think so?”

“I can’t function without your cock, Daddy” you feed his ego. It won’t harm anyone because you’ve found your statement to be absolutely true, “Miss being sore. You made me hurt so good, Joel.”

“And now you’ve replaced me with… bedding?” Joel teases, but you hear him shuffling around like he is moving through his house.

“Yeah,” you giggle breathlessly, bunching the pillow up even tighter. You wiggle your hips to seat yourself against the silk as before, a little crease of it nudging against your clit. It makes you push your pelvis harshly yet slowly into it. An idea pops into your mind, “Wanna see?”

You hear the sound of sheets, the clinking sound of his belt being unbuckled, and then the pull of his zipper. That was quicker than you thought.

“Hold on,” he replies and moves his mouth away from the receiver. You prop up your phone against the wall on the floating shelf above the head of your bed, listening to the faint sound of pants being shoved down.

When he finally calls you and the FaceTime logo appears on the screen, you press the green answer button and stare right into the camera. If this was a planned call, you would have thought about your looks and your pose, but Joel will see you just how you are right now.

He isn’t disappointed.

“Fuck, look at you,” he says instead of hello. You cannot see his cock, only his broad naked shoulders, mouth that’s slightly agape, and his eyes, which have become a darker brown with his arousal.

“Daddy’s so potty-mouthed,” you reply innocently, sitting up a little straighter to show off to the camera. You move slowly up and down on the pillow, back arched to push out your chest and one hand curled around your breast.

“How long have you been draggin' your cunt all over that pink cushion, young lady?” He asks in a low voice. His shoulder is moving in a way that tells you enough, and if you could close your eyes without feeling rude, you’d be able to see how it looked when stroked his dick.

“A while, a little after I texted you,” you reply. In the corner, you can see yourself moving on the pillow as your tits bounce slightly. It turns you on to see yourself masturbating more than you’d like to admit, “I’m so horny for you.”

“Bet you are,” his eyes roam hungrily over the screen, “So what are you waiting for?”

“What do you mean?” You pant.

“You want me to see you come, ain't that the plan?” His breathing is accompanied by the sound of his fist pumping his cock, “To show me how good you can treat her when I’m not around to do it?”

You nod as you moan loudly. Sweat has started to form on your chest and breasts, glistening prettily for him as you thrust your hips faster to chase your climax. It climbs steadily, like a coil tightening in your abdomen, starting from behind your cunt.

On the other end of the line, Joel’s heavy breathing is slowly turning into moaning as well. He is getting closer as well, trying his hardest to get to where you are.

“Daddy,” you cry feebly, “I’m gonna fu— come.”

A tingle is creeping up your spine. You’re so close, letting go of your breast to pull the fabric taut with both hands as you rock against it. Where you’ve been panting before, you hold your breath right before you come.

Every single drop of tension in your body seeps out of you as the coil finally snaps. Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train. Your world fades from view for a few seconds, your mouth hanging open in a loud groan. You ride it out without hiding your pleasure from the world, hoping that you truly are the only person in your dormitory right now, concentrating on staring into the camera lens as you gain your vision back.

Joel swears at the sight, speeds up his hand. He scrambles for his phone to angle it towards his dick.

“I’m gonna wreck that little cunt when I see you next time,” he promises through gritted teeth, suddenly letting out a deep grunt of satisfaction as he comes. He paints his hand, nearly dropping his phone amid the intensity, “Fuck, sweetheart.”

You’ve collapsed into your bed, pulled your phone down to hold it away from your face, and stare lovingly at Joel as the camera returns to his face. He looks a little flustered, cheeks slightly pink from the blood coursing through his veins.

“Stay on the phone with me for a while. I promise not to fall asleep,” you plead, swinging a leg out over the edge to pick the blanket up from the floor with your toes. You throw it over yourself, suddenly chilly when the air hits your sweaty skin. It’ll be easier than hiding the evidence by cleaning up too.

“Alright, lemme go wash my hands first,” he says, leaving the frame. You hear his feet patting across the bedroom floor, but then you hear nothing else.

When Joel returns, he gets under the covers as well, “So, how was your first week at—“

You’re snoring ever so slightly. He smiles to himself but doesn’t end the call just yet, watches you fall deeper into slumber for a while before deciding it’s enough. He shoots you a text before plugging his phone in for the night.

Fell asleep on me, Sleeping Beauty. I miss you too. Props to you for not getting foul-mouthed like me. I’ll remember that. -JM.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal characters #the last of us #joel miller x you #my writing #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller smut #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel tlou #dbf!joel

1K notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Staking My Claim Part 1

Hello! Because of my flu, I've been working on low stakes stuff to help with my foggy head. I promise this week to be back on to the WIPs I have going to be build up my backlog again.

This started off as a silly "let the boys be goofy" and turned into a "found family with ONE goofy moment in it". Sorry about that. I blame the cough medicine honestly.

***

Eddie and his friends were enjoying a rare night where they didn’t have to play at Cora’s Den in Indy when it happened.

Now, Cora’s Den wasn’t gay bar per se, but as it was one of the most inclusive places in Indy, the normies considered it one.

So when he came back from going to the bathroom he leaned into the center of their table so he could whisper. “Tell me that’s not Steve Harrington at the bar in a crop top and cutoffs.”

All three of his friends turned to the bar as one.

Gareth smacked his lips. “As much as I would love to, man, no can do.”

“And is he really flirting with that dude?” Eddie asked with a wince.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “I’m seriously doubting that. Looks like Stevie could use a rescue.”

Eddie turned and looked over. Sure enough the guy that had been flirting with Steve had been replaced by a new guy. And one that didn’t look like he was getting the hint to fuck off.

“Go on,” Brian said. “You know you want to. He’s clearly got a thing for the guys and you might even get laid for the first time in months.”

Eddie nodded curtly and slapped the table. “Right.”

Steve was having a good time until this guy came along. He just wouldn’t take no for answer. He wasn’t looking to go home with anyone. His parents had just blown out of town again and Steve was looking for a way to blow off some steam. Relax after the last week of sheer exhaustion of dealing with them and their judgments. He usually went with Robin so that people would leave them alone. Only she had the late shift tonight and the early shift in the morning.

He was going to wait until the weekend when they could both go and have fun, but Robin insisted that he go, otherwise he’d be moping around Family Video all week. So he came out tonight, not really out to get drunk, or laid, just to have a good time.

This was not that.

Suddenly an unopened bottle of his favorite beer was being pressed into his hand as a warm arm wrapped around his waist.

“There you are, baby,” a soft voice cooed. “Sorry I’m late, work was a nightmare.”

Steve let himself relax into the man’s side. “I’m just glad you made it, Eds.”

Eddie grinned at him. “I swear old man Thacher is getting worse in his old age.”

Steve laughed. “I know, right? I went in for an oil change and he berated me for twenty minutes on why couldn’t I just do it myself.”

Eddie frowned. “Don’t you have a BMW that requires a special oil?”

Steve pursed his lips and nodded. “Yup!”

Eddie turned to look at the guy who was standing there with his mouth open. “Are you still here?”

The guy bristled. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I was here first.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Steve said, straightening up, but still remained plastered to Eddie’s side. “Eddie Munson. Lead singer and guitarist for Corroded Coffin. You know, the band that plays here every weekend?”

“Yup,” Eddie lied easily. “So where’s Birdie tonight? Working the late shift?”

“Ha!” the man snapped. “That’s not his friend’s name. His friend’s name is Robin! I knew you were a fake.”

Eddie blinked at him as if the man had grown three heads. “Robin Buckley. Robin is a bird. Bird plus Buckley, ergo Birdie. I have nicknames like that for all my friends. And any friend of Stevie’s is a friend of mine.”

Steve rubbed his nose along Eddie’s jaw affectionately. “And how did you know what her name was?” he asked, not even looking at the guy. “I don’t think I recall seeing you around before.”

The man’s face paled and he turned on his heel, storming off in a huff.

“Thanks for that,” he murmured into Eddie’s ear. “I’m usually pretty good at getting assholes to lay off, but he wouldn’t take no for answer.”

“Your inner mean girl couldn’t make him go away?” Eddie whistled. “That is persistent.”

Steve giggled. Then he blushed and looked down. That was when he remembered the drink in his hand. “So what’s with the unopened beer?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was another creep by bringing you an open bottle.”

Steve looked up at him and blinked a couple of times. “Wow, you really are my knight in leather armor tonight.”

Eddie took the bottle and popped it open with his bulky ring on his middle finger. “There you go.”

“That was so hot,” Steve said stupidly.

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “Duly noted.”

Steve was invited back to their table and had an absolute blast.

He was coming back from the bar with a couple of drinks in his hands when someone bumped into him, almost making him spill the drinks.

“Hey, watch it!” he hissed.

Immediately Eddie was at his side in an instant.

“You okay?” he asked taking a couple of the drinks from him.

“Yeah,” Steve groused. “Just some asshole not watching where he was going. I didn’t even get a drop on my shoes.”

Eddie snickered. “Yeah, okay. You and your jock reflexes.”

Steve leaned over and whispered, “I’m also very flexible in bed.”

“As in top or bottom or are we talking positions?” Eddie asked, running his tongue over his bottom lip slowly.

“Both.”

Eddie threw back his head and laughed. “No need to go so hard, baby. I was already wanting to take you home with me tonight.”

“What about your friends?” Steve asked grinning back. “It sounded like you all share the apartment.”

“We have a signal for if we bring anyone back,” Eddie assured him. “Also we know to keep it down because the apartment walls are thin and not just inside the apartment.”

Steve’s mouth formed an O. “I got you.”

He knew there were pros and cons to living in an apartment. Having your neighbors that close were definitely a con.

“You still living at home?” Eddie asked as they made their way through the crowd.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It’s not like my parents are ever there. Though it would just be my luck that they’d come home while I’m out the queerest bar in Indy.”

“Not a fan of queers?” he asked once they reached the table.

“They’re fans of Reagan,” Steve said with a grimace. “I’m pretty sure that automatically puts them on the opposing team.”

The entire table recoiled in sympathy.

“Fuck, that’s harsh!” Jeff said. “Thankfully my parents aren’t Reagan supporters, though they have raised many an eyebrow at Eddie here.”

Eddie face turned into a feral grin.

Brian shrugged. “My parents don’t care as long Eddie doesn’t shove it down their throats.”

Steve rolled his eyes. That old nugget. Walking down the street holding hands with someone of the same gender was shoving it down their throats as far as they were concerned.

Gareth looked at his friends wide eyed. “Um...sucks to be you guys I guess, but my parents adore Eddie, don’t mind him or I being gay and threatened to sue the school over the devil worshiping allegations about our D&D club. So...”

“Three cheers for the Hughes family!” Eddie said.

They all cheered and clanked their glasses together. They downed their drinks and roared with unrestrained joy.

Steve could feel a rush of blood around his ears. The room faded in and out and it sounded like Eddie and his friends were under water. He staggered off his stool and nearly stumbled to the floor.

Then the world went black.

***

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Also I'm not sure if this post canon or no monster AU. I can't decide, but it's ambiguous either way.

Permanent Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailitha writes #tw drugging #corroded coffin

594 notes · View notes

that-basic-simp · 8 months ago

Text

Shut The F**k Up

Vi x Fem!Reader CW: Swearing, angst WC: 1.3k+ A/N: This is the censored version. The uncensored version is linked below! (It's because I am a bit uncomfortable with posting NSFW here on Tumblr.)

"Just shut the fuck up!" I pounded my fist onto the table.

The entire bar went silent as the loud thud overpowered the thunderous music. It even caused the jukebox to lose alignment on the record. Scratches could be heard as the song skipped a few seconds ahead. My breathing was heavy as I was just staring at the counter.

"You alright there?" someone reached over and tried to place a hand on my shoulder.

I turned and smacked their hand away, "Just peachy."

I grabbed the bottle of alcohol and stood up. I threw down some coins and stumbled out of the bar. Words fell from my mouth as I mumbled to myself. They were just incoherent mumbles until memories of what happened crept back into my mind. Were her and I something? Or was I just her fling? Just a hook up every now and again to forget her ex? Or did we actually have something? It was never brought up, never spoken between us. She just came into my apartment, drunk and bloody, and we spent the night together. She was rough, hard, something I couldn't get elsewhere. She made me feel alive in a long time. She gave me a reason to believe that life was worth living. Now with her gone, what is the point?

I took a long swig from the bottle and let the contents slide down my throat, heating my stomach up and making my entire body feel like it was on fire. I wiped the droplets from the corner of my mouth and let out a belch. Others turned, disgusted, while I just stumbled past them. I burst into my apartment and slammed the door closed. I didn't take one step and I stumbled onto my bed.

"Jeez, and I thought I would get bad."

I shot up and looked around. That jet black, poorly dyed hair, that stature and build, that tone of voice. Was she really here? Or was the alcohol making me hallucinate?

"V-Vi?"

She turned and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hey, little dove."

It's been a while since I heard that pet name come from her. One of our drunken escapades resulted in us going towards topside one early morning to watch the birds. While I was still conscious of my thoughts, I pointed out the birds to her and told her what kind they were. I told her I loved doves and that was where the nickname came from.

"You're still here? In Zaun?"

"Yeah. I am."

"I would have figured you went back up top when your ex came down here."

"Well, things were figured out and turns out, our paths diverged from one another's."

"I could have told you that. You're running around with a Piltie and you thought it was going to work out?"

"Like what we had was something."

"Was it? Or was I just your rebound? Someone to make you forget of your troubles?"

"We never established anything."

"You're one to talk, leading me on and then just leaving without so much as a goodbye."

"We never had anything."

A knife to the heart. In her case, a fist to the face. I bit my inner lip and let out an exasperated sigh.

"So," I tried not to let my voice crack. "What we had, was nothing?"

She shook her head, but then shrugged.

"I-I don't know."

"You just said we never had anything."

"I'm starting to doubt that."

"Did you have something going on between you and that Piltie?"

"I don't know about that either."

"Then what do you know? I can tell you," I stood up and walked towards her. "All you know how to do is get into someone's face, get into someone's business, and just fuck shit up."

I was mere inches from her now.

"I thought you were going to be a great person, you know. You were hard to like at first, but after we went around and screwed over some people for fun, and now you're here screwing me over, that's just sad, Vi, even for you. All I can see now is you don't think with this," I jabbed my finger harshly against her forehead. "But with these," I reached down and grabbed her bandaged fists.

"Sometimes, I wonder if you think at all," I scoffed.

A scowl appeared on Vi's face as she just stared into my eyes with those powder blue eyes. Some remnants of that black face paint were still on her skin.

"Maybe that's why you can never keep the people you love and care about around."

That was what caused to break the camel's back. In a flash of black and a bit of red, Vi's hands grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the bed. Her lip was pulled back in a growl as her face was just mere inches from mine once more.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

"Make me," I said.

She harshly pressed her lips against mine. I let her in like the night she accidentally came into my apartment thinking it was hers. She let out a bit of a moan, probably tasting the alcohol on my tongue. My arms wrapped around her neck as I dug my hands into her hair. I grabbed a clump of it before I yanked it a bit too hard. In return, she bit on my lip a bit hard to where it drew blood. I pushed her away and ran my index finger over my bottom lip.

"What the fuck, Vi?"

She just smirked and ran her tongue along my bottom lip before she placed her lips back onto mine. I couldn't deny her. That was probably my problem in this situation. She gave me attention and was good to me now that I think about it. She never once tried to hurt me when I was intoxicated. She tried to sober me up before we started anything so she knew I was aware of what was going on. And I took care of her. After her matches I would wash the blood from her knuckles and anywhere else she got blood on herself. I'd make sure she ate and drank before and after each fight. On nights she would indulge a little too much in the alcohol, Loris and I took her back to her place. Or if it was just me, I brought her back to mine. We were more than this, weren't we?

I pulled away and furrowed my eyebrows at her. She caught on and pulled away, sitting beside me. We both let out disappointed sighs. Not at each other, no. Just at ourselves for letting us get like this. So heated with emotions that it drives us to be near one another.

"What are we, Vi?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I-I don't know. I-I'm sorry I can't answer that."

"Of course you can't answer it," I reached down under my bed and grabbed another bottle of alcohol.

I pulled the cork off and started to down it. Vi reached over and grabbed it from me mid drink.

"H-Hey!" I wiped the liquid from my chin.

She took a long swig before she spit it out.

"The fuck is this?"

"Don't complain about the alcohol since it's not yours," I snatched it back.

"I can't go back to my place."

"Why? Someone else take it?"

"Yeah," she said shyly.

"O-Oh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe if you actually took care of yourself for once--"

"This again?"

"You left me, Vi!"

"I left a lot of people. I left the people I cared about and look what happened. I fucked up."

"No shit."

"Gee, thanks for rubbing salt into the wound."

"We all fuck up, Vi."

"You don't know what fucking up is," she shook her head.

"Actually, I do."

"Really? Do tell."

"I fucked up the day I let you into my life. I took you in because I thought you were just lost and broken. Turns out, you're just fucking stuck in the past and running away from the things you can't beat with your fists."

Vi went silent. That was when I knew I made things worse. There would be days where we'd argue and she'd leave and not come back for almost a week on end. Then I'd find her in an alley slumped over with bottles beside her. And a stream of vomit.

"Vi, look I--"

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" she turned towards me.

"Only when you make me," I smirked.

"I'll do more than just that," she pinned me to the bed once more.

Link to the uncensored version

#vi arcane #arcane vi #vi x reader #vi x fem reader #arcane

80 notes · View notes

monsterswithimagines · 10 months ago

Text

Undisclosed Desires - Part 14

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 696

Masterlist

My Joe is kind of like Netflix!Joe and also like Book!Joe, who kills people and then goes "So anyway..."

I thought you'd notice how distracted I am, considering the amount of time we've been spending together.

But no, you are fighting with your grandparents and your mother isn't answering your calls and you don't want to talk about it so I am giving you your space. It's that easy.

You are thankful. You promise you'll make it up to me later.

You don't have to make anything up to me, (Y/n). You are giving me the time I need to rid the world of a pest.

It's surprisingly easy to get Jasper alone. His polygamous relationship is unfulfilling (shocking), so he spends most of his free time running around New York with his ‘friends’, who probably wouldn't notice if I walked up and stabbed him right in front of them. His evenings consist of getting drunk at shady bars and buying drugs from shady people. It only costs me three days to figure out his entire pattern.

How this man manages to be so put-together at work every day is one of life's great mysteries.

On day four, I spend the early afternoon at a thrift shop. I buy a tracksuit that looks sufficiently used and a baseball cap that looks sufficiently new. At the end of the work day, I wait around outside your office (making sure you don't see me when you leave) for Jasper to come out.

And then I follow him.

Jasper doesn't drive. He's the kind of asshole who takes the train because he thinks it makes him look down to earth. Good thing for me, because it makes it so much easier to stay on his tail.

First, he goes home, but he only stays there for an hour. Just long enough to appease his wife. Then, he leaves again.

Tonight's shady bar is actually near your apartment, but I don't think Jasper knows that. All he knows is this is the wrong kind of neighborhood, which means it's the right kind of neighborhood for his purposes.

I really need to get you to keep your windows closed.

Jasper meets three guys outside and they all shout-greet each other and slap each other's shoulders the way these types often do, and then they go inside.

You know how you can tell that I love you, (Y/n)? I spend nearly six hours waiting inside the disgusting alley, leaning against the wall with one leg bent, foot against the brick, like drug dealers in movies do. I've got my cap pulled low over my eyes and I pretend I'm texting frantically. When the wrong people approach me, I glare at them until they walk away.

It's after midnight when Jasper stumbles outside. He is alone. He is either so drunk or so uninterested that he doesn't realize he knows me. He wants cocaine and I tell him I have some.

There's a woman smoking at the mouth of the alley, but her back is to us and it is so easy to lead Jasper around the corner to where there's a dead-end and knock him out. There are no cameras here, no doors. There is a dumpster, but nobody's going to come out and throw anything away until two am, when the bar closes.

Jasper should be grateful. He dies without anyone noticing - including himself. It's easy. Painless.

When they find his body, it will be a drug deal gone wrong and everyone will pretend they never thought something like that would happen to him even though they really did think it would. They were waiting for it. People like Jasper always end up like this in the end.

Nobody will ever think to connect either of us to his death. Why would they? You would never come to a place like this and me? I barely know the guy.

As I leave, I check my phone for texts from you. There are none because you don't know what I just did for you, so you don't know to thank me. But when you find out about Jasper's death, you will pretend to be sad and secretly thank whoever is responsible, which means you will be thanking me anyway.

#joe goldberg #penn badgley #you netflix #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg x reader #imagine #joe goldberg x female!reader #joe goldberg x y/n #joe goldberg x you #x reader

110 notes · View notes

seobnity · 5 months ago

Text

⚉ characters: intak x reader

⚉ wc: 1,2k

⚉ genre: angst, slight romance(?), drama, hurt/no comfort, tragedy

⚉ theme: boyfriend!intak, partner!reader

⚉ warnings: grief, character injury, coma, death briefly mentioned, heavy topics, hospital setting

|pt.2| while your lips are still red <-

⚉ a/n: welcome or welcome back! For this story I used some of the lyrics from a Nightwish song called Sleeping Sun (yes, I even named the story after it <3). If you can find the lyrics, you are amazing! Also thank you so much for reading, leaving a heart or even reblogging - it means a lot to me! If you see any mistakes, please feel free to kindly correct me ♡

You slowly opened the door and quietly stepped into a small hospital room. You carefully closed the door behind you and moved closer to the bed, still trying not to make any sound. "Hi, honey," you whispered and gently brushed some hair from his forehead, noticing that it was a little smoother than it was yesterday.

There wasn’t any reason for you to be this cautious about making a sound or talking too loudly because Intak had a room all to himself, so you weren’t bothering anyone by your visit. Yet, it felt like you had to be quiet. It was a hospital, after all, and it was nighttime too—many patients were already asleep, and hospital walls aren't exactly soundproof.

"I see they washed your hair today," you smiled softly and looked around the room to spot a chair. One was right behind you, so you pulled it closer to the bed and sat down on it. Your first thought was to sit on the edge of the bed, to be closer to him, but you didn’t want to disturb him, and that’s why a chair was a better option. "I need to thank them on my way out. I really couldn’t do it myself this time. I had a lot of things to take care of." A small sigh escaped your lips.

You had no idea why you were explaining yourself to him when he wasn’t even aware of your presence. Intak had been in a coma for several weeks and still hadn’t shown any signs of improvement. The doctor told you it could—and would—take a lot of time to see any changes, positive or negative, but it was still hard to see him like this. His body was just lifelessly lying on the hospital bed, with different machines attached to his body to keep him alive, and all the bandages around his body and head—it really wasn’t the easiest sight.

And all of this was happening because of some drunk idiot.

Intak is (or was, depending on how you look at it) a rally driver. He started when he was sixteen years old and immediately caught the public’s eye. Sure, he wasn’t the first to start this early—some start even at a much younger age—but there was just something about him that people liked. And not just the public; people in the industry also saw how talented he was. Thanks to that, he got opportunities and, when he finally got to compete as a driver, he soon became a very well-known and popular rally driver who was always on the winners’ podium. It didn’t matter what place—gold, silver, or bronze—he was still among those who won the race.

You met him after one of his races in a restaurant, where he was celebrating his second-place win alone. He wasn’t of legal age at that time, so he couldn’t go to a bar with others for a proper celebration, but he didn’t seem to mind when he had you as his waitress. At that time, you didn’t know who he was—you were never really interested in rallying or cars in general—but of course, you had to ask about the trophy he had on full display on the table. Intak gladly told you, and after some small talk, you two exchanged contacts to stay in touch.

Long story short, you two got close, and even while knowing the difficulties you would face, he became your boyfriend. It was hard at first, with him traveling constantly and your parents insisting you not throw your life away for a boy—which was understandable. Luckily, you and Intak made it work without too many obstacles, and when you were out of school and finally of legal age, you decided to take a year off from everything and travel with Intak for his competitions. To be there for him and support him.

Everything was great, perfect even, until it wasn’t. At one of his races, a drunk man decided it would be fun to run onto the track while a car was coming at him. What he didn’t take into account was that he tripped over his legs and fell in the middle of the track. People in the crowd tried to stop him but to no avail; the damage was done, and there was nothing to do. The man tried to get up again, but he was too drunk to do so.

Intak noticed the man in time and moved the car to the side, but because of how fast he was driving, he crashed into a tree at full speed. The loud noise it made silenced everyone in the crowd. All that could be heard were sudden gasps from the witnesses who were slowly realizing what had happened.

The drunk man survived, and so did Intak’s navigator, who had a broken leg and some scratches, but Intak... Intak suffered several head injuries that caused him to fall into a coma. Of course, there were broken bones, scratches, and bruising too, but most of those injuries were already almost healed. You also couldn’t understand how such a reckless person could walk from that scene on his own two feet while Intak, who didn’t do anything wrong in his life, had to suffer all the consequences.

"I will probably sound crazy right now, but..." you paused for a second, taking his hand gently into yours. "I wish for this nighttime to last for a lifetime." You chuckled at how absurd you actually sounded to yourself when you said it out loud, but you truly felt like this.

You didn’t want to think negatively, to let the bad thoughts win, but you just wanted this night to never end because you were scared of what the future held. Yes, it would mean Intak would never wake up, but he also wouldn’t get worse, which was the thing that truly terrified you. It had been so long since the accident, and the doctor hadn’t said anything new either. So, in your head, having this peaceful night with Intak "just sleeping" on repeat did not sound so bad after all.

"I know," you looked at him. "You would’ve told me that losing faith makes a crime." You smiled and squeezed his hand lightly while trying to hold back tears. "Oh, how I wish to hear you say that again. You have no idea how much I miss those cringy words." You chuckled once again but had to bite your lip afterwards to suppress a sob.

You moved one of your hands to his face and carefully, not wanting to hurt him more, placed your palm against his cheek. You moved your thumb over his cheekbone while smiling sadly at him. He still looked so handsome, even in a hospital bed after a horrible car crash.

You had to swallow in order to continue. "When will you come back to me?" you took a deep breath. "Will you ever come back to me, Intak?” Tears streamed down your face. You clutched his hand a little tighter, holding onto a small hope for a miracle to happen while the sun was still sleeping quietly leaving you consumed by the night.

52 notes · View notes

renren-006 · 1 year ago

Text

Y'all did know? - Daryl x fem reader

Anon: i absolutely fucking love your fics, i read so many fanfics i don’t always remember authors but i for sure remember and recognize you and your work partially bc i reread it often❤️ after reading your last daryl fic at 4 am bc i couldn’t sleep i had an idea for a fic for him. what if it was slightly the opposite thing, like daryl and reader got together early on, maybe the knew each other before hand like reader was a bartender at merle’s favorite bar bc we all know daryl takes time to warm up to be ppl, and the cdc happens, while drinking they make their confession and get together officially, but readers like daryl with the fact they’re kinda shy and take a while to warm up to ppl so they don’t do pda and stuff publicly, not really intending to hide it but also not wanting the attention, and maybe they assume their ppl from their group know (this is where the set up for that last fic got me bc i can see this being a long timeline)......

original ask: Ask

a/n: hey anon!! i decided to copy some of what you wrote here but it was a massive request and I absolutely enjoyed reading it and writing it!!! thank you for the kind words!! you guys are why i love writing and helping make your stories become reality! hope you all enjoy reading it! word count: 3107

taglist: @rosecentury

Before World Ended:

You met the Dixon brothers a few years before the world ended. You were a bartender at a small driver's roadside bar off Atlanta I-85. You started working there after you graduated from college, hoping to make some money to put away to get out of Atlanta.

Merle was always a loud drunk and a loud customer throughout the day. Daryl, however, was a kinder soul, apologizing for his brother before seating himself directly in the center of the bar area. The two of you chatted through your shift, mostly about who comes in, how his day was, and what the weather for the week would be like. It was small talk, but with the other rednecks checking you out, you felt comforted by him. Daryl never made any plans to put any moves on you in the three years he knew you, but when the world ended, and you almost got killed, he knew he had to.

"I like ya," he said aloud. You looked over at him. He was gazing up at the sky, a beer between his knees. You just sat there watching the man.

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked, slightly annoyed. You not only had almost died by an undead customer, but also it was an undead customer. The idea that people could die and come back to life as something unlike themselves was utterly unbelievable. You watched blow you as that undead walked around without noticing you and Daryl on the bar's roof. Merle was blocking the rest of the bar to keep everyone out. All three of you knew you would have to leave soon, but it didn't matter; the summer breeze was still blowing, and the beer was still cold for now.

“It means…ya almost died and the shit of the world, so… I like ya.”

“You are a master with your words,” you told him sarcastically. You've known Daryl for years now; the two of you spoke the same language with people. You were always shy, and Daryl just took a while to open up to people. You both were a lot alike, and that's what kept you together and attracted you to one another. “I like you too.”

GEORGIA:

The two of you never addressed your relationship with each other, not that anyone really needed to know. Nor did the two of you showcase it. Since both of you were shy and had a bit of a more rigid exterior about letting people in, you just figured when you were alone with each other was the time to be closer, but out in the world hand, holding, loving looks, and conversation were the way to go about it.

Merle knew, of course; he figured it out quickly. He was the only one learning about the two of you and not caring. Daryl acted the same as he had, except he didn't dare flirt with you. Daryl had given him one look on the road when you walked ahead, and he was staring at your ass that he never tried again. Merle may be mean to Daryl, but he never would cross-touch what were his brothers. Everyone thought it was a word.

“He doesn't flirt with you, does he?” Andrea asked you a few months into living together. You shook her your head. “Weird, he never stopped with me.”

“Maybe you're just his type, Andrea.”

“And you're not? Anything with tits and an ass and Merles all over it,” she said to you, not noticing the slight touch of hands with Daryl as he walked by and the smile you gave. She kept running on about Merle's annoyance, not noticing anything else around her.

FARM:

“You crazy bitch” you yelled towards Andrea. She had run over far behind your form and Ricks. The two of you dashed towards the fallen man without a second thought in your mind. You ran towards your man, who was lying in the grass, groaning in pain. Daryl was barely speaking in Rick's arms as they carried him off.

“Don't worry, your man will be fine,” Shane said, keeping you from absolutely bashing Andreas' face in. She took one look at your anger and held her hands up, walking backward towards Dale. “Don't bite her head off for this.”

“Whatever,” you said, shoving him off and walking up towards the house, where Daryl was now being brought inside. You didn't even consider Shanes's words that day, “your man.” it never crossed your mind that he was teasing you. Shane was a dick; everyone knew it more recently. You could see Shane's vacant eyes glancing at everyone in a way that made your skin crawl. You thought the only reason he was acting like that towards you was this asshole was flirting. He knew you were taken, right? You were mistaken.

ROAD AGAIN:

You handed over a can of soda to Daryl. You had only found two in the house you searched. Surprisingly, the can was left in a cabinet, meaning you could drink it if you wanted to. Daryl and Rick approached you once they entered the house. They both came to help you in the bigger house. You placed the soda in Daryl's hand.

“It's not beer, but I know you'll enjoy it anyway,” you said to him before heading up the stairs.

“She's sweet on you,” Rick said with a smile, teasing the man beside him about you as you skipped the last few steps.

“I know,” Daryl said as he went to look for other things inside the house. Rick looked back and forth between the stars and where Daryl had gone off, too. He laughed slightly.

“Those idiots,” Rick said, thinking they both had no clue about the other's feelings when everyone else was oblivious to their known feelings.

PRISON:

You stood on the watchtower, scouting the land ahead. Daryl and a few others had gone on another trip to look for supplies. You had your rifle on the railing as you watched, and then you set up their gear and trucks. Maggie slid in next to you. She watched you watch Daryl move around in the ground, setting up his motorcycle. He looked good down there; the way his body moved, his mussels, and even the way his hair was falling was driving you wild. Maggie caught a glimpse of you checking him out.

“You're so obvious,” she told you. You laughed slightly.

“Sorry,” you apologized; you knew you were obsessed with watching him, but how could you not? You’ve known Daryl for so many years now it was impossible not to watch or admire the man before you. You loved him, and he knew that. Daryl was also quite aware of your joys of watching him, sometimes he would put on more of a show of stretching or giving you those lustful eyes you knew would mean the two of you wouldn't get any sleep that night. It was his favorite thing to do to get you worked up throughout the day.

PRISON:

Daryl knew he was forgetting something before he even shut the truck's door. He heard her voice before she even reached the hill in the Prison.

“Wait.” Daryl glanced out the window of the truck, putting his arm out and waving. He knew she was smiling from that before her face popped up in his vision. “You forgot your water bottle!” Smiling up at him was you, his girl—Rick snickers from the seat beside Daryl.

“Thanks,” He said, grabbing the water bottle from your hand, “saving my ass.”

“Always am,” you responded, giving him a wink. Have a safe trip out.” As you said it, you turned with a wave and walked back up the hill. Swaying our hips bit as you did, you gave Daryl a show that you knew would make him come back to you tonight with a mission.

Daryl and Rick headed off on their scout to a new town they had spotted on the map, a few miles away from the other town they had picked clean. As the two looked around the houses, Daryl went through many jewelry cases for anything that might seem like something you would wear. Rick came in on him, picking through when he had found the perfect thing.

“She would love this,” Daryl said. Rick came up next to him, observing the (silver/gold) necklace with a bird on the end of the chain swinging in the air.

“Do you think about anything but her?” Rick asked, laughing as he exited the room to look in the one next to it. Daryl chuckled and shook his head. No, you were always on his mind.

Little did he know, Rick assumed Daryl had a massive crush on you, not that he had any suspicions you two were already together.

When they returned and Daryl was back sitting next to you on that mattress on the floor, he pulled out the necklace.

“I found it,” he told you, handing it over to you so you could see it. “I know how much ya miss these types of things.”

“Haha, did you know I missed jewelry?” You asked him, shocked he somehow knew how much you missed having something to wear around your neck. He nodded his head.

“I knew, ya mentioned it a while ago. Been looking for something for ya”

“Daryl,” you said with admiration. He put it around your neck; the man who you had met in a bar all those years ago was now putting a necklace on your neck in a run-down prison at the end of the world.

AFTER PRISON FALL:

“Daryl?” You said, besides Carol, who had just completed her job of destroying a massive facility of cannibal people. You had been with her, the girls, and Tyreese since the fall and had been so scared that Daryl didn't make it out of the prison. You had run out of the hut and left Tyrese once you heard the explosion. You had found Carol and walked over to the others and saw him.

Daryl didn't hesitate to run straight for you. You hugged me so tight you felt the air in your lungs stop for a moment, but you didn't care.

“I miss ta. I thought ya died,” Daryl said as he clung to your body. He had gone through hell to fight and find you, and here you were, not a scratch on you and in his arms again. That necklace still hung around your neck, a form of commitment to the both of you about who you were with.

“I'm alive. I'm alive,” you said as you held the man in your arms. The others stood and watched your reunion, no one thinking anything- “Wow, they must care for each other a lot.”

Once he broke off the hug, it was like looking into the eyes of the world again. You could see color, purpose, and meaning. He was everything to you.

AFTER TERMINUS:

After the terminus, Daryl stuck to your side. The two of you walked together, ate together, slept near each other, and went on runs together. When Carol and Daryl went to Atlanta, so did you.

“How long have you two been together?” she asked as you walked through another building in Atlanta. Daryl casually answered as he passed an office door with a walker trying to get out.

“Since Atlanta fell,” he answered. Carol stopped, turning back to the two of you.

“You've been together for more than three years?” She asked the two of you. “How did no one pick up on it?”

“Wait, what?” you asked, shocked, “How does no one know Daryl and me are together?”

“You two have never been very…affectionate,” she told the two of you. Darly glanced your way. The two of you laughed a little at that.

“Yea, that makes sense,” Daryl said. This was the moment the two of you started looking towards the others for any answers if they knew you were together. For the last few months on the road, getting to Alexandria yielded you the response that no one knew a thing. It caused a bit of agitation for the two of you about how maybe your attitudes about being affectionate were causing more harm than good.

ALEXANDRIA:

Once you all had gotten settled in and jobs were assigned, you all started to try and live a normal life again.Since moving into the two houses, you shared a space with Miccone, Rick, Carol, Daryl, and the kids. You and Darly took a room downstairs along with Carol down the hall, and the rest were split in the rooms upstairs. No one questioned you staying with Daryl or even looked at the fact that there was only one king bed in that room with the two of you.

While Darly was assigned to go on runs to look for people, you were assigned daycare and teacher duty at the house designated for the school. It kept you busy while Darly was away, and on the days you had off or no one showed, you hung around with Crol or took watch. Many days, you walked around the complex, taking in the signs and the ability to walk in peace. That was until one day.

“Hey, you're one of the women from the new group, right?” a man asked as you walked back to your shared house. You could see Daryl on the porch talking with Carol, but he had not seen you yet.

“Uh yeah,” you said, continuing to walk back; the man pulled your arm to face him.

“You know it's rude to keep walking when someone is talking to you. Or did you forget that after living in the wild for so long?”

“I didn't forget anything; I just don't want to talk to you,” you told the man, shaking your arm out of his grasp and walking faster towards the house. Finally, you made eye contact with Daryl. The way his face looked, you knew it was because he had heard. The man didn't stop trying.

“Hey, don't walk away from me,” he said, running back up to you, grabbing your arm so hard and pulling and making you stumble back. “What if I'm not good enough for you? Can’t a man ask a girl for some action or what?” he said, pulling you closer to him.

“Stop it,” you yelled back, but you didn't have to fight hard. Daryl was a flash before being by your side, and the man's face was flush against his fist.

“Touch me woman again, and that's the least I'll do to ya,” he said. The man froze as he looked up at you from the ground. That was the day you realized the longer people didn't know either of you was together, the more people would try and come up to you, assuming you were not.

Daryl went to bed that night, angry. You knew it wasn't towards you, but the coldness in the room made you feel like the world was ending if you and him couldn't be more open.

ALEXANDRIA:

‘What if you two just got married?” Carol asked as she was cooking in the kitchen. You paused your reading from the chair in the living room to look into the kitchen at Carol.

“What?’ You asked, shocked by her expression. She turned away from what she was cooking on the stove to talk to you.

“Well, since the people in Alexandria won't take the hint you've taken, and Daryl's upset, and also the issue of our own family not knowing…maybe you should just go out, find some rings, and get married.”

“I…hadn't thought of that,” you told her. “You think Daryl would be okay with that?”

“I think Daryl is more on board with that idea than you think, y/n,” Carol told you. She knew about the distance that had been caused by the repetitive men hitting on you. The guy whose nose was broken never once tried to come up to you and denied anything happening with you when others asked. No one knew what Darly had said that day apart from those there. The decision was made, at least on your part. You stomped your way over to Aaron's house. When he answered the door, you stomped in.

“Need Daryl,” was all you said before heading to the back of his house to the garage. There, Daryl's bike sat as he tinkered with it. You slammed the door open, causing Daryl's head to look towards the door. A shutter went through the house.

“The hell, woman..” Darly almost got out.

“Marry me,” you said when he was almost done speaking. Daryl's mouth closed, looking at you. “Do you need me to repeat myself? Daryl Dixion, marry me.”

“Ya no, I heard ya y/n,” he said, standing up, “why?’

“Why? Because I love you, and no one can even tell I do or that we have been together for more than four years,” you told him, frustrated by the string of events of the past year.

“You want to marry me?” Daryl asked, taking your face in his grease-covered hands.

“Yes,” you told him, smiling.

EVERYONE'S REACTIONS:

Rick was holding a dinner for the family that night. Carol completed a large spread, and everyone showed up. You and Daryl were late. When you showed up, the two of you were holding hands. Michone was the first to welcome the new development.

“You guys waited long enough,” she joked, causing other heads to turn. Daryl looked down at his feet, and you just let out a sigh.

“We didn't, though,” you told them. Everyone looked twords you two in confusion.

“Didn't what?” Michone asked, clearly confused by what was happening.

“We've been together for four years,” Darly said, “And we just got married to prove it.” He lifted his hand to show the gold band on his finger, and yours lifted as well, showing the (silver/gold) band with a few small diamonds on it. The two of you had found a jewelry store and had fun picking out your ring, while Darly wanted something simple.

“Holy shit,” Abraham said.

“Wait, what? '' Carl shouted, clearly confused about how his uncle had been together with you for so long, and he didn't know.

“Congratulations,” Carol answered. Everyone else was shocked. “Oh, I've known about them for a while.”

“Tonight's dinner story is how the two of you got together,” Rick said as he motioned for the others to sit, “And no one is leaving out any details.”

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #daryl dixion #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixon #fanfic #daryl x reader

162 notes · View notes

upat4amwiththemoon · 2 years ago

Text

The stars

Summary: I see my lover when I look at the stars.

Pairing: Carol Danvers x female!reader

Warnings: sexism, men, it’s the 80s, some angst

Word count: 3902

a/n: second chance romance trope, I’m so happy with this you guys!!

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

1985

Pancho’s bar wasn’t the fanciest place to work at as a young woman, especially because most of the customers are men from the air force. Their favorite past time besides drinking is trying to seduce Y/N, and get her number. But she isn’t interested in them, and never will be, though that’s something she’ll keep to herself. At least the constant flirting leads to good tips, which will eventually help her get out of the bar.

Y/N dries a glass with a rag now that she has some downtime. The rush time will start soon, so she wants to prepare for it to the best of her abilities. There are few regulars sitting either at a table or by the bar, but she knows they’ll let her know if they need anything, otherwise they like to quietly drink to their sorrows.

When the bell by the door rings, Y/N quickly glances at the new customers way, she only sees the air force logo on their clothes, making her roll her eyes. They’re out early today. She sets the cleans classes to their places and washes her hands, taking a deep breath, she gets ready for the onslaught of vulgar words.

“Hey, could we get two beers?”

Her head snaps up when she hears the feminine voice. Two women are standing in front of her with the air force clothes on and friendly smiles on their faces. Y/N stares at them with wide eyes for a moment. Sure every now and then women wonder into the bar, but she has never seen air force women come in.

Y/N regains her composure and grabs two beer glasses. “Sure thing! Which beers would you like?” Her customer service voice is cheery and slightly more high pitched than her normal one.

“Sierra Nevada, please.”

“Coming right up.” As Y/N moves to the taps to pour the beers, the two women start whispering and throwing looks between each other. Without Y/N noticing, the blonde woman’s gaze moves to places her eyes shouldn’t go. “Here you go.” She sets the beers in front of them.

“Thanks,” the woman glances at Y/N’s name tag, “Y/N. I’m Carol.” She hands some bills to pay for both of the drinks. “And this is Maria.” Carol states when she gets nudged to her side by the other woman.

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N says, her voice slower as she tries to figure out her intentions. Carol’s tone is similar to the multiple men who like flirt with her, though more genuine sounding, but surely that’s not what she is doing with her. “Here’s your change.”

“Keep it.” Carol winks before she and Maria go over to a table and sit down, leaving flustered Y/N at the bar.

She pockets the tip and start rearranging the dishes, trying to occupy her mind from wandering to incredibly good looking Carol.

When the clock strikes midnight, the bar is already at full swing. People are dancing to the loud music coming from the jukebox, and occasional bursts of laughter can be heard from the tables full of men, drunk men.

Y/N has been moved from behind the bar to the floor, bringing back empty classes and taking people’s drink orders. Because the other workers are men, they believe having a woman on the floor is better for business.

“Hey, sweetheart!” A drunken air force soldier shouts from a table full of them. He is waving his hand around in a come here motion. With a sigh, Y/N puts on her best smile and makes her way over to their table. “How much for a pretty girl like you to sit with us?” He waves a wad of cash in the air, his mouth formed in a grin that show his teeth. The others are staring at the two like it’s the best entertainment they’ve ever seen.

“Unfortunately I don’t have time to sit with customers. Is there anything else I could get you?” She smiles, holding a tray under her arm. She wants out of the situation, not liking the feeling of all the men’s eyes on her.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart.” The way the man says sweetheart makes Y/N want to gag. “Aren’t you supposed to do anything the customer want, eh? Besides, girls love money, don’t they?”

“I have to go help other customers, let me know if you want more drinks or something to eat.”

As Y/N goes to walk away from the table, the man grabs her arm. “Well hold on a second,” he slurs his words, “I ain’t done with you yet.”

Huffing, she glares at the man. She’s starting to get annoyed. “Listen, mister, I’m working right now, and have to attend to other customers as well.” Her voice has lost its cheery tone. “So, let me go.”

“Ooh, feisty!” One of the other man at the table comments. It makes the other laugh loudly, and enrages Y/N. She is aware this is a man’s world, but she is not going to be their entertainer.

Before Y/N can retaliate, someone else steps in to her rescue. “Hey. She said to let her go.” Carol stands next to her with her back straightened and shoulders pulled back. “So let her go.” Her voice is low, and her eyes are cold. She looks like someone you don’t want to mess around with.

“Well look at you,” the man scoffs, “it’s the wannabe soldier.” He sneers.

“Let the lady go, I’m warning you.”

“Oh, you’re warning me?” He stands up, still holding onto Y/N’s arm. All the humor has left him. “And what are you going to do about it?” He stands slightly taller than Carol, but it doesn’t seem to deter her.

The tension between the two start to grow. Y/N stands there, frozen, keeping her eyes on Carol. She doesn’t want to deal with this right now, her shift is supposed to end soon.

Suddenly, Carol raises her fist, and punches the man square in the jaw. He stumbles backwards into the chair he was sitting in, finally letting go of Y/N. “You bitch!” He shouts, wiping blood away from his lip. He goes to stand up, but before the situation escalates any further, one of the other bar workers come to escort him out.

“You okay?” Carol turns to look at Y/N once the men are out of the bar.

“Yeah,” she rubs the spot the man was holding onto, “thanks for helping.” Her mouth grows into a small smile. “That was kinda amazing.”

Grinning, Carol shrugs. “I have a things for saving pretty ladies who happen to work at this bar.”

Y/N lets out a small laugh as she shakes her head. “Okay, superhero.” Her voice is playful, but she can feel her cheeks flushing. “I have to get back to work now.”

“When do you get off?” Carol follows Y/N around while she picks up empty glasses.

“In twenty minutes.”

“I’ll walk you home,” she states, “me and Maria, I mean. You shouldn’t walk alone this late at night.”

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek. She glances at Carol, feeling warmth rush over her body when she sees the hopeful look on her face. “Alright. I’ll see you in twenty.” Giving her a smile, she returns back behind the bar.

Carol has a huge grin on her face as she stares at Y/N work. “What did I miss?” Maria walks over to her, having been occupied by beating a man’s ass in pool.

“We’re walking her home.”

Maria glances at Y/N, and nudges Carol’s side with a smirk. “You like her.”

“Maybe.”

1987

The front door of Y/N’s small, crappy apartment slams shut as she comes home from her shift at Pancho’s bar. It’s late at night, Y/N is exhausted, and she is sweaty, and she just wants to fall asleep without worrying about anything.

She throws her keys somewhere on top of the dresser she has next to her front door, and kicks her work shoes out of her feet. “Jesus!” A shout leaves out of her mouth when she turns around. Carol is standing there with a sheepish smile and a bouquet of flowers. “You scared the crap out of me.” She mumbles, holding a hand on her racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry.” Carol sets the flowers next to Y/N’s key. “You gave me a key, so I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t remember you were working so late.” Her voice isn’t radiating the confidence it usually is. It’s softer and nervous.

The bouquet is big, it has more flowers Y/N has ever gotten before, and it’s wrapped with pink paper. “Thank you.” She smiles, picking up the bouquet and going to her so-called kitchen to put the flowers in a vase.

Carol follows her, staying close by, but still giving her space, she can see how tense Y/N’s body is. “Tough day at work?”

“Something like that.”

It turns quiet while Y/N fills a vase with water from the tap. The apartment doesn’t have any separate rooms besides the bathroom. All the kitchen appliances, a bed, small couch and a television are within reach of each other. It’s definitely not something Y/N wants to spend her whole life in, but she can survive in it, and that’s enough for now.

“How long were you waiting?” The vase gets set down to the single counter she has in the kitchen area.

Glancing at the clock, Carol hums. “Like, a couple of hours, maybe.”

“Carol,” Y/N sighs and rubs the space between her eyes, “you should’ve gone to sleep, don’t you need to be at the base tomorrow?”

“I took a day off.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To spend time with you.” The way Carol’s voice is so gentle makes Y/N want to cry after the day she has had.

Today’s shift felt ten times worse than any other shift in the past, it was full of drunk men and angry customers who genuinely believed in the fact that customer is always right, even when they aren’t. On top of that, her manager thinks the customers are more important than his employees, so he always found a way to satisfy the angry customers, which made them see Y/N as the bad guy.

“Hey,” Carol’s hands go to her cheeks, rubbing them softly, “why are you crying?”

“Sometimes I can’t handle it all.” She gets pulled into a warm embrace. “I was supposed to get out of here ages ago and see the world, but I just can’t get out of here.” Y/N sobs quietly, trying to hold herself back so she wouldn’t ruin Carol’s clothes with her tears and snot.

But Carol doesn’t care. One of her hands is rubbing Y/N’s back, while the other rests at the back of her head. She stays quiet, letting Y/N sob it all out in peace.

The two have been officially seeing each other for a while now. For the first year and a half they mostly danced around each other, both too anxious to make the first move in case they got the wrong impression, and the other person wasn’t interested in women after all. However, during that time, they became very close friends, so when Carol finally did do the first move—thanks to Maria—they moved forward pretty quickly.

Once Y/N tears start to subside, Carol whispers, “take a shower, I’ll make you a snack and ready your bed for us, okay?” Y/N nods, gives her a small peck to the cheek, and makes her way towards the bathroom.

Carol and Y/N are laying on top of each other on the bed as they watch a random movie that’s on one of the night channels. They should be asleep, but they really wanted to spend time with each other, as they don’t have a lot of opportunities to do so.

“Can i ask you something?” Y/N’s quiet voice almost goes past Carol.

“Yeah.”

“Why air force?”

“I’ve always wanted to fly.”

“Isn’t it scary?”

“No.” Carol smiles. She loves the feeling of being free in the air, having the possibility to go anywhere in the world she desires. Y/N hums quietly, not saying anything. “Why do you ask?” Carol tries to move her head in a way she’d be able to see Y/N’s face in the light coming from the television, while not disturbing her position on top of her.

“I just think it’s dangerous is all.”

“Are you worried about me?” She grins.

Y/N’s hand is resting under Carol’s shirt, tracing different shapes on her side. “Kind of hard not to be when i’m in love with you.” She whispers. The grin on Carol’s face falls at the words. She isn’t sure if she even heard her correctly, but she really hopes she did. Y/N moves her head up to see her. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The sentence assures Carol she heard correctly. “You won’t lose me, because I’ll always come back home to you. I love you.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

They kiss, both feeling the smiles on each other’s faces. Carol tightens her arms around Y/N as they pull away. She closes her eyes and listens to the soft sounds of Y/N’s breathing melting in with the sounds of the television, as they fall asleep.

1989

Y/N paces around her house, ruining her nails by biting them. Her eyes are locked on her phone. She is waiting for a call, from anyone, as long as someone calls her and tells her she is overthinking things, that Carol is okay. She has called Maria three times by now, and the air force base once, but none of the calls have been successful.

Carol was supposed to come over four hours ago, straight from work, but she hasn’t arrived yet, nor has she called Y/N to let her know she’ll be late, that’s what she usually does.

Groaning, Y/N picks up the phone and punches in Maria’s number, calling her again. “Come on, come on.” She mumbles, tapping her foot to the ground in a rapid pace. “Damn it!” The phone drops to the table with a crash, few plastic pieces flying off of it from the impact.

No one is answering.

She sits down to the couch, it creaks slightly every time someone moves on it, which had led to some uncomfortable make out sessions with Carol.

Most of her nails are already too short to bite, so she moves to the skin around her them, biting them until she bleeds. Her eyes are locked onto the muted television, desperately trying to distract herself from her thoughts. She is aware of her tendency to overthink and catastrophize things, she always thinks Carol is dead if she hasn’t called by the time she promised to, but that was never the actual situation. This is the same case. Carol isn’t dead, she just got caught up at the base. Nothing horrible has happened.

A knock on the door makes her body relax. Carol is finally here. She lets out a relieved laugh and goes to open the door, however, her face turns to a frown once she notices Maria standing behind it.

“Hey, where’s Carol?”

Maria looks tired. “Can I come inside?” As Y/N nods, she steps in and looks at the floor. “I think you should sit down.”

“Maria-“

“Please,” she looks up at her, “sit down.”

Y/N sits back down on the couch, while Maria stays standing up. She is gathering her thoughts while trying to take deep breaths. “Carol volunteered to pilot with Doctor Wendy Lawson on something important, and the plane, uhm..it-“

“Don’t you dare say it, Maria.” There are tears gathering in the corners of Y/N’s eyes. She knows where this is going, but she wishes she didn’t.

“The plane crashed.” Maria sits down next to Y/N when she starts properly crying. “They couldn’t find anyone, Carol is classified dead. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wanted to come tell you because no one else would’ve.” No one else knows about their relationship.

Not being able to say anything, Y/N just leans against Maria, who has started crying as well. The person they both consider closest to them, is dead.

1995

It has been a week since Carol helped the Skrulls to get out of the Kree’s line of fire, which means it’s been a week since she got her memories back. Ever since then, only one thing has been in her mind, her lover.

It’s early morning as Carol and Maria drink coffee in the latter’s kitchen, Monica still sound asleep upstairs. “What happened with Y/N when I disappeared?” Carol asks, her voice quite hesitant.

Maria sets her cup down. “I’m not sure. She was obviously pretty devastated when I told her what had happened.”

“She doesn’t still work at Pancho’s, does she?”

“I don’t think so,” Maria frowns, “but Carol, I haven’t talked to her in a long time. She stopped answering my calls three years ago. I don’t know where she is, or how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Carol stands up. “I have to find her.”

Naturally, the first place Carol goes to is Y/N’s apartment, though she really hopes she won’t find her there, that she moved on and started travelling the world like she planned to.

She knocks on the door and waits. Nothing happens, so she knocks again, just in case. She’s almost ready to let out a sigh of relief, but soft sound of footsteps coming from inside the apartment stop her. As the steps grow closer, a small, selfish part of her wishes it’s Y/N who opens the door.

Somehow she feels more pain than relief when the door opens, and Y/N stands before her.

They stare at each other, both stunned by the sight in front of them. Y/N has bags under her eyes, and her hair is messy. She is wearing an old t-shirt that once belonged to Carol, her legs are bare.

She goes to slam the door closed, thinking she has finally gone mad, but Carol’s hand stops it from moving. “You aren’t real.” Y/N’s voice is shaky. Her eyes are closed, she doesn’t want to see the person standing in front of her, because it can’t possibly be Carol.

“I’m real.” Carol whispers, but Y/N only shakes her head as an answer. “I didn’t die, I was captured by Krees after we crashed.”

“You aren’t making any sense, you aren’t real.”

“Can you let me in, please?” Gently, Carol sets her hand on top of Y/N’s hand, that is still holding onto the door. The touch makes Y/N open her eyes, and turn them towards Carol. She stares at her for a long while before opening the door wider.

As Carol walks inside the familiar apartment, she looks around for any changes, but it looks exactly the same as it did six years ago. She hates it. While Carol walks deeper into the tiny apartment, Y/N stays by the front door. Her arms are crossed over her chest in a protective kind of way.

“You weren’t supposed to stay here.”

“I couldn’t leave y-“ she stops herself, “Carol.” She isn’t entirely sure if the woman in her house truly is her Carol. “What happened? Who are the Kree?”

“It’s a long story.” She has a gentle grin on her face, one that reminds Y/N so much of the way Carol used to look at her. “You might want to sit down for it.” Y/N shakes her head, staying right where she is. Carol frowns, but nods, sitting down to the couch. It still creaks anytime weight gets put on it. “Shorter version of it is: when we crashed, Dr. Lawson told me the truth about her mission before he was shot by a Kree. Before he could kill me too, I destroyed an engine, which made me absorb energy of a Tesseract, so the Kree took me with him to their planet Hala. I was integrated to their society, I had no memories of my human life. A bunch of years later, I crashed back to Earth, a lot of fighting happened, I discovered my true power and my memories, and helped the Skrulls.”

“I don’t know what any of that means.” Y/N whispers. Any time Carol used to talk about air force things with her, she felt dumb, but all of this is making her think they aren’t even speaking the same language anymore.

“I was in space, and I have powers now.”

“Like a superhero?”

Carol smiles, nodding. “Yeah, I’m a real life superhero now.”

“You already were a superhero in my eyes.”

Standing up, she takes a few tentative steps towards her. All she wants to do is hold her, kiss her, tell her she’ll never leave her again. But Carol can still see the hesitation in Y/N’s eyes, she can see the years of pain and exhaustion in her expression.

“But then you died.”

Carol stops. She’s close to Y/N, but too far away to touch her. Oh, how desperately she just wants to feel her soft skin under her palm again, even if the years without her have hardened it. “I’m here now.” She pleads with her eyes—please believe me.

“You won’t stay,” Y/N states quietly, “if you’re a hero now.”

“I can take you with me, wherever I go. I won’t leave you again. I’ll help you get out of this place.” Carol takes another few steps forward, reaching her hand towards Y/N. “Please give me another chance.”

Y/N stares at her hand. It’s more calloused than before, rougher. She grips the skin on top of her ribs tightly, trying to ground herself, she feels like ripping herself apart.

“Please.” Her voice cracks. Her eyes are wet with unshed tears. “I can’t live without you.”

Y/N grabs her hand with her own shaking one. Carol squeezes with a smile, pulling her close slow enough that Y/N can stop her if she wishes to. Once they are chest against chest, she pulls her into a full embrace. The waterworks start from the both of them the second they’re in each other’s arms. Carol letting out all of the pent up grief she wasn’t even aware she had, and Y/N still trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

“I missed you.” Y/N chokes out between her sobs. “I missed you so much.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Carol holds onto her girl so tightly, pressing her against her body like she’d disappear if she let go. “I’m going to show you the world now, because you deserve so much better than this place. I’ll never let you go.”

Although, Y/N doesn’t trust in promises anymore, some small part inside of her sparks hope, that she’ll truly never be separated from Carol again. She’ll even go all the to the stars for her if she has to.

482 notes · View notes

amyelevenn · 8 months ago

Text

I cried like a baby coming home from the bar

PAIRING ; Max Verstappen x reader

SUMMARY ; after losing your wallet during a bar crawl, you and Max go on a drunken adventure to find what has been lost.

WARNINGS ; drinking, drunk!reader

A/N ; not really sure how i feel about this... is it proof read? no. do I care? also no!

also 20 second penalty? fair but oh my god my poor heart can’t handle this!! 💔💔

2.8k words masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

This wasn’t how your night was supposed to go.

Your plan was to drink away the stress that had being weighing down your shoulders the past couple weeks. A bar crawl wasn’t exactly your scene, but any excuse to get as hammered as possible with good friends was an excuse that you were more than willing to take.

It was a nice, albeit temporary, escape from reality. Your life had recently turned into a never-ending cycle of work, rent hikes that could rival a blockbuster plot twist, and family drama that would make a soap opera seem mundane. You had a list of worries so long that it could wrap around the block.

Somewhere around bar number eight, you’d promised the table the next round was on you. Reaching for your wallet, you felt only the smooth emptiness of your jean pocket. Sheer panic set in almost immediately, coursing through your veins despite being almost completely plastered.

Stumbling back to your table, you barely make it before tripping over your own feet.

“Molly, I can’t find my wallet!” you exclaim, your voice slightly slurred as you rummage through your bag again.

Molly, your closest friend, leaned in, concern etched on her face. “Are you sure you had it when we got here?”

“Of course I did! I had it when I bought those nachos!” You gesture wildly, nearly spilling your drink. “They were amazing, by the way.”

“Focus, love,” she said, trying to suppress a smile. “Let’s retrace your steps. Did you check your pockets?”

You pat down your jacket, frowning. “Nope. Just my phone and... gum.”

You hadn’t even realised you were crying until Molly had bunched her sleeve up in her fist to gently wipe the tears off of your cheeks. You manage to whisper a ‘thank you’ through your soft sobs, wishing for nothing more than every piece of your stress to just leave you alone.

This was supposed to be a night away from it all. A night of drinks, laughter and warmth. A night with no anxieties, only carefree joy. This is exactly the opposite of what you needed right now.

Someone handed you a glass of water which you gratefully accepted, skulling it all in one go. You let out a heavy sigh, instantly aware of the uncomfortable heat creeping in as the fog begins to clear and you start to sober up. It makes you even more nervous having everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your next move.

“I… gotta look for it, right?” you asked, more to Molly than yourself.

“Yeah. But you can’t go alone. You’ve had too much to drink. I’ll come with you.” Her tone was certain, but her expression betrayed disappointment at the night’s early conclusion.

Guilt gnaws at your chest. “No no no s’my fault, I don’t wanna ruin your night Mol Mol!” you slur as you grab her hand, giving it a squeeze as a form of promise. “I can take care of m’self, promise.”

“Mmm, no, honey, you can’t go alone,” she said, smiling reassuringly. “I’ll come. It’s okay—”

“I could go with her.” A voice cut through your little bubble. You turned to see Max, the one who had suggested it. “I’ve only had one drink, and that was over an hour ago.”

You didn’t know Max very well; you had been introduced to him once at one of Molly’s parties and had a couple conversations since, but that was all. It wasn’t odd to be at the same events, but you just happened to never find yourself around the same people as him. You turn to Molly for her approval – he was one of her friends after all, and you were putting all of your trust into her.

She hesitated. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, Max. I’m happy to go.”

He smiles, nodding. “It’s all good, Molly, I was planning on heading out soon anyway. I promise I’ll take good care of her,” he laughs, brightening the mood a little. It’s the first time you notice just how contagious his smile is.

You gathered your things, bidding your friends a hasty goodbye and pulling Molly into a tight hug. “I really appreciate you, my love,” you say, giving her a teary wink. She laughs, giving one final squeeze before letting you go. “I promise to make it up to you another night, and I won’t ruin that one!!”

“You could never ruin my night baby girl!” she giggles, laying her head on your shoulder. “Please message me if you find your wallet and when you get home, okay?” You nod, vowing to do so as long as she does in return.

Blowing her a kiss, you and Max make your way over to the bartender, who looks bored out of his mind. “Hey, what can I get ya?” he asks, moving to start mixing up some concoctions.

“Nothing for me, but a water for her. Thank you,” The bartender, Ollie, as you read his name tag, hums as disappears to get a clean glass and some water for you. After a few minutes, he comes back and hands you the cup, and you give him an appreciative smile in return. “Have you guys had any lost wallets handed in tonight?” Max asks whilst you guys still had his attention. He shakes his head, and you both thank him anyway. Your glass gets left on the counter, and you make your way out.

The early spring breeze hit you like a splash of cold water. “It’s freezing! Let’s find the next bar quickly,” Max joked, noticing your goosebumps. “Do you want to walk or catch a cab?”

Taking a deep breath, you consider your options. “Um...I dunno?”

“I think walking will be our best option for now,” he suggests, gesturing you to follow his lead. You fall in step with him, but the drinks you had earlier inhibit you from walking in a straight line. Every now and then you accidentally bump his shoulder, murmuring a quick ‘sorry’ and moving to the other side of the sidewalk for good measure. He laughs it off every time which makes you feel a little bit better.

Before you can even form a coherent enough thought to start a conversation, he is holding the door of the next bar open for you. You thank him, stepping inside and immediately soaking up the warmth radiating off the strangers inside.

Max leads you over to the counter, asking all the questions for you. He gets another water and some fries for you to eat whilst you walk. He isn’t stupid – he knows you won’t be able to stomach much, but you need to eat to help sober you up. It’s fair to say that this isn’t his first time sobering a friend up.

The waitress comes back from lost and found empty handed, but the hot chips help you ignore the sense of impending doom that is weighing on your shoulders.

“Do you want to stay here and eat for a bit, or keep going?” Max asks, guiding you towards the exit but not outside just yet.

“We can keep going,” you say, holding the door open for him this time. As he searches for the next bar’s location, strangers push you into his space, and the heat radiating from him nearly overwhelms you, stirring an intense longing to cling to that warmth. If you were as intoxicated as you had been just half an hour ago, you would have done it without a second thought.

He steps forward, seemingly oblivious to your flushed cheeks—though perhaps he noticed and chose to overlook it, wanting to spare you the embarrassment.

You move onto walking to the next bar, the chill of the night clawing under your skin and into your veins.

“Do you like to drink?” is the only question your drunk mind can come up with as a distraction from the frozen breeze.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” he answers, almost perplexed at how random the question was. “I would ask if you do too, but i feel like i don’t need to.”

“Nuh uh this isn’t ‘bout me,” you giggle, wanting to make it obvious you are interviewing him here. “What do you like ‘bout drinking?”

He laughs a little, amused at your state. “Well, I guess I like being with my friends and having a good time with them-”

“-oooh what else??”

“Uh, I like when-”

“-Look at those lights!” You giggle, swaying slightly as you point at a nearby neon sign. “It’s like a carnival exploded!”

Max chuckles, steadying you with a gentle grip on your arm. “Yeah, it’s very... festive. Just keep walking, okay?”

“Festive! Just like me!” You lean into him, your words slightly slurred, a wide smile spreading across your face. “You’re my designated fun friend!”

“Designated fun friend?” he echoes, smirking with a laugh. “You’ve had a burst of energy, huh?”

“I’m just trying my best not to cry!”

“Well, we are at the next bar, so hold onto those tears for another couple minutes!, yeah?”

But you are met with nothing by disappointment as the bartender shakes their head, confirming they’ve had no wallets handed in tonight. It was starting to feel like an impossible mission.

You and Max leave the bar, the cool air wrapping around you like a chilly blanket. The streets are buzzing with late-night energy, but all you can think about is that elusive wallet.

“Okay, next stop,” Max says, pulling out his phone to check the map. “There’s that dive bar a few blocks away. They might have seen something.”

“Dive bar? Sounds fancy!” You giggle, the thought of it making you feel a bit more adventurous. “Will there be karaoke?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Let’s focus on finding your wallet first, then we can talk about exotic pets.”

After a short walk, you arrive at the next bar, its entrance adorned with twinkling fairy lights. You push the door open, a wave of warmth hitting you instantly. It’s cozy inside, with a mix of laughter and music filling the air, just like every other place you had been to.

The bartender, a friendly woman with colourful hair, raises an eyebrow at Max. “What can I get you?”

“We’re looking for a lost wallet,” Max says, cutting to the chase. “Has anyone turned one in?”

She shakes her head, her expression sympathetic. “Sorry, not tonight. But I can help you with drinks if you’d like!”

You sigh, your shoulders drooping a bit. “Well, that’s like 4 bars down, and still no wallet.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find it,” Max reassures you, his tone bright. “How about we take a quick break and sit for a minute? It’ll help take your mind off it.”

You take a sip of the water he had gotten you, and he raises his glass to toast. “To the next adventure!”

You clink your glasses together, laughter bubbling up, easing the tension in your shoulders. “To finding my wallet!”

As you sip your drink, the conversation flows easily. Max shares funny stories about previous bar crawls, and you find yourself laughing harder than you have all night.

“Okay, so if you could have any drink in the world right now, what would it be?” you ask, leaning in with curiosity.

“Hmm, maybe a classic gin and tonic, but made with a specific gin that costs an arm and a leg. Simple, but effective,” he replies, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Boring!” you tease. “You’ve got to spice it up!”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, well what would you suggest then?”

“Oooh too many options to just pick one!”

You laugh together, absorbing the warm atmosphere on the pub.

After a few more sips, you notice the bar starting to get busier. “What’s the plan now?” you ask, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety about the wallet.

“Let’s hit one more place after this,” Max suggests, a determined look on his face. “We can’t stop until we find it!”

You skin was beginning to crawl as it started to sink in that you might not find it. It made your palms sweat and your head throb; the thought of losing nearly everything that mattered because of reckless drinking was suffocating. But Max seemed to notice the thoughts forming in your head, placing a soft hand on your shoulder in consolation.

“We’ll find it,” he soothes, rubbing a gentle circle on your skin before letting go. “That’s a promise, yeah?”

He seems genuine, but you just chalk it up to pity.

The last bar that you go to is once again unsuccessful, having had wallets handed in but none distinctly yours. Heaving a heavy sigh, you feel the weight of the past couple weeks’ stress returning to your shoulders, pulling you down into a mental spiral. You don’t even bother wiping the tears away as the roll down your burning cheeks, making the throb in your head pound even harder.

“m'sorry we didn’t find it,” he murmurs, offering a sincere smile that you don’t even glance at.

“s’fine. Can you take me home? I don’t want to be here anymore,” you say, already moving to leave the bar before getting an answer from him.

He leads you to his car, which was conveniently parked less than a block away. The ride there was silent, the only words exchanged being you giving him directions on how to get there. You pull up to your apartment block, moving to get out but noticing that Max does as well.

“What are you doing?” you ask, the words harsher than you intended.

He sighs, moving to help you out of the car. “Can i walk you to your place? I feel bad leaving you alone.”

You pause for a moment, feeling bad – he was just being nice, trying to help you. “Oh, no that’s okay, you don’t have to do that.”

“No, no i want to. I promise Molly I’d take care of you. If you don’t mind, of course.”

Considering it a moment, you revel in the soft smile he gives you when you agree. Locking his car, he follows you past the doorman and up towards the elevator. It’s quiet, but not awkwardly so – it’s the kind of silence that’s comfortable, between two friends, if that’s what you were.

The light ding tells you you’ve made it to your floor, and you turn to him before he can walk out.

“I can go from here,” you say, gently nudging his elbow with your own as if to reassure him you’ll be alright. He nods to himself, watching intently as you slowly walk backwards and away from him. “Thank you for all of your help tonight. I most definitely couldn’t do it on my own so… I guess I owe you.”

“Yeah, I guess you do. How does dinner sometime sound?”

You grin, taken aback a little by how forward he was. “That sounds very nice.”

He laughs lightly, and it makes your heart flutter. Theres something behind the smile that he gives you, as if he knows something that you don’t. “Your wallet will make it back to you, I promise,” he remarks.

The doors start to close before you can say anything in response, so you just laugh a little until he can’t see you. Yeah, right! you think, I’m never seeing that wallet again.

A week or so later, Molly and some others are over for dinner at yours. It’s a nice, intimate evening with your closest friends when Molly jumps out of her chair to run to her bag. Someone must have said something that caused a sudden epiphany because damn you have never seen her move so quickly.

She comes back into the room, holding a chunk of pale green with a little note on top. “It’s for you,” she says, placing it in your hands. You realise then that its your wallet, the one you had lost on that fateful night.

You squeal in appreciation, leaping out of your own chair to give her a big bear hug. “Thank you! Oh my god Molly how did you get this?!”

She laughs, enjoying the happiest she had seen you in a hot minute. “It wasn’t me. Max wanted me to give it to you.”

You scoff, not believing her for one minute. She insists, pointing to the little note scribbled on top. It reads:

“I pulled some strings.

Hope this is yours and not some strangers!

-Max”

You are in awe, and the conversation moves on too quickly for you to process what had happened. You spent the rest of the night unable to fully participate in a conversation, too wrapped up in your head.

He had gone out of his way to continue to look for your wallet. It astounded you; a guy you barely knew before that night spent time trying to help you, and didn’t ask anything of it.

You knew you would have to return the favour by getting him some of the over-priced gin he told you so much about.

.・。.・゜✭・✧・✫・゜・。.

as always, feedback is appreciated!

#x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #fluff #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 fic #mv33 #ames writes ! ☽

72 notes · View notes