#dudes only chatty when hes been drinking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cowgurrrl · 2 years ago

Text

BWFW

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: You and Joel call a truce [3.8k]

Author’s note: dude I’m having so much fun writing this (PS this song is named after BWFW by Blunt Chunks)

Warnings: smoking (don’t smoke kids (drunk cigs don’t count)), Joel being an asshole momentarily, spicy thoughts (no smut), enemies to ???

Joel Miller Caught Kissing Actress After Date: Everything We Know About Her

Hollywood's Newest Power Couple?

Joel Miller Has A New Boo, And We're All A Bit Jealous

Who is Joel Miller's Newest Girl? Everything Their Waitress Told Us About Their Secret Romantic Date

Pictures of you and Joel making out against your front door are everywhere. You can barely log onto Instagram without being bombarded with DM's, comments, and tags in news articles about you two. Melanie even texted you with several headlines attached and a "Great job, kid!" Even your mom texted you about it. Granted, it was a screenshot of a Buzzfeed post, and all she sent you was a bunch of question marks, but she texted you. You try to put it out of your mind by leaving your phone in your trailer when you go to set instead of handing it off to a PA.

You decide that Joel Miller isn't worth more brain power than absolutely necessary. He has his own life, and you doubt he's thinking about you, and if he is, it's probably plotting his next reputation-saving move. The only thing you can do is work, make the best movie possible, and move on with your life until he summons you for another contractually obligated date. It's only a few months. You can make it, right?

You were asking the director about a scene, script in hand, when Ryan strolled up to you with a mischievous look. You ignore him and listen to Greta give you notes and ideas for the next movie sequence. He waits for you to be done with the conversation, like a third grader, before grabbing your arm and pulling you toward him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing Joel Miller?" He asks, and you laugh. He walks you to a more secluded part of set, hiding from eavesdropping extras and chatty interns as they set the sound stage for the next scene.

"It didn't seem relevant to work."

"Not relevant? This is huge," he says, somehow more excited about this than you are, and you cross your arms over your chest. "You haven't dated at all since you made it big."

"Okay, that's not true."

"Really? Before last night, when was the last time you went on a date with anyone? Famous or not?" He asks. You open your mouth to answer, but your brain short circuits as you search through your memories. You're ninety percent sure that your last date was with the guy you had a showmance with before you moved to California. He was tall, handsome, and full of himself just like every other actor. You vaguely remember telling him you booked your first movie with A24, and he said you didn't have the "right look" for A24. Last you heard, he was living with five other roommates in the Meatpacking District back in New York.

"Okay, so maybe it's been a while," you admit, and he raises his eyebrows at you. "Please, don't make this a thing. I've already had enough people clawing at me for answers about it, and I'm exhausted."

"Fine, fine, but you have to promise you'll go out for drinks with me and Carolina on Friday. She's been dying to make couple friends, and I need to make sure he's good for you."

"You don't need to do anything, but sure. I'll talk to him and see what he thinks." You say, and he smiles. Before he can grill you any further, your names are called over the intercom, announcing that they're ready for you, and you silently thank whatever god is out there for getting you out of that situation. You and Ryan walk back to the sound stage and get flanked by people from makeup who need to touch you up and frantic ADs who repeat the same notes the director already gave you. You swear if their heads weren't attached to their necks, they'd run around looking for them at all hours.

You do several takes of the same scene, yet another scene of your characters arguing, this time about what they'll do now that your character is pregnant. Ryan progressively gets more despondent as he sinks into his character, frustrating you as his scene partner and the pregnant woman you're playing. After about two hours of running the same scene over and over again, you're at your wit's end and need to do something different. Everyone on set freezes when you shove at Ryan's shoulders and force him to look you in the eyes for the first time since you started filming. The entire scene shifts as you continue to push at him, tears unexpectedly falling from your eyes as you beg him to say something. It hurts more when he walks out the door without looking back. When Greta cuts, Ryan all but runs back in the door and wraps you in a big hug.

"You're gonna break my heart if you keep doing that!" He says, and you laugh as you wipe away your tears. You watch the scene back together, and jump up and down at how much better it flows. It feels like you're watching magic. Times like this remind you why you became an actor in the first place.

You film a few more scenes before breaking for the night. Your body hurts from carrying so much emotion as you walk into your trailer to gather your things to go home. You barely grazed the door, dinner plans already filling your head, when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. It's a text from an unsaved number, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it's from.

The lipstick on the collar was a nice touch, he writes, and you sigh.

That almost sounds like a compliment, Miller, you shoot back.

You're not even halfway to your car when your phone buzzes with another text from Joel.

Paul is really happy with how everything's going. He said he wants us to see each other again before I go back to Texas.

Good timing because my costar practically begged me to go on a double date with him and his wife.

We're already in double-date territory? How official.

Har har. How's Friday night sound?

Sounds like Paul is going to be very happy.

That makes one of us.

The rest of the week flies by with you dodging the online chatter about you and Joel somewhat successfully, but Ryan keeps reminding you how excited he is to hang out with you and your new "boy toy," as he has affectionately nicknamed Joel. You hate it, but he thinks it's funnier that way, so he just keeps calling him that. You swear Ryan was your annoying older brother in another life.

You're curling your hair when he texts you a cute picture of him and his wife in the car with the message, "Ready to interrogate JM." You laugh and return to messing with your hair, mentally going through every possibility that tonight could bring. You're wearing a pink tank top and jeans with pink heels. Nothing super fancy, but it's definitely more dressed down than your first date with Joel. You debate on which necklace to wear and wrap the final piece of hair around your curling iron when your front door opens.

Joel calls your name as he shuts the door behind him. You almost throw the hot iron down as you step into the hallway to face him. He's wearing a black shirt with a matching black leather jacket and jeans. He looks you up and down unapologetically, and you roll your eyes.

"Who told you you could just walk into my house?" You ask as you duck into the bathroom again. He leans against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you spray your hair to help it withstand the California heat.

"Hello to you too, darlin'."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."

"So, what can I call you?" He asks with a smirk pulling on his lips. You grab your bag off the counter and move to leave the bathroom, but he doesn't budge. You huff as you look up at him.

"Move."

"Answer the question." He says. You think about pushing him out of the way, but he's broad and has those strong guitarist arms and probably wouldn't even flinch. You copy his stance as you rack your brain for an acceptable answer.

"Well, you could start with just my name," you say, and he laughs. "But other than that, I don't know."

"Baby?" He suggests, and you almost gag.

"Absolutely not."

"Which do you hate more? Darlin' or baby?"

"Baby."

"Alright, then, darlin'," he says, stepping out of your way. You scoff and walk past him into the hallway. "You know, you really should get a dog or somethin'. It's not safe for you to just leave your door unlocked like that."

"Oh, with all the psychos running around my neighborhood? I can handle myself but thank you for your input." You say, and he laughs as you do one last sweep of your living room to make sure you didn't forget anything. Once again, Joel opens your front door and the passenger side door of his car for you. You can say many things about Joel Miller, but one thing you can't say is that he's not a gentleman. You think it has something to do with his Texas upbringing, or it might just be a testament to the kind of woman his mother is. You don't say anything the whole way to the restaurant, saving up your mental energy to deal with him for the whole night, and he doesn't fight you on it.

When you get there, you can see Ryan waiting near the host stand through the windows, obviously ready to escort you and Joel to the table. You're surprised that the sidewalk isn't flanked by photographers, but you take it as a good sign. Joel parks the car and reaches for your hand as he locks it. You almost smack it away before remembering you're in public and take it in yours. The smooth ring on his middle finger is cool and smooth, a stark contrast to his calloused palms. Ryan lights up when you two step through the doors, and he quickly wraps you in a warm hug. He introduces himself to Joel and holds his hand out for a handshake which Joel reciprocates.

When he walks you to the table set for four, Carolina smiles and stands to hug you and Joel in true Carolina fashion. Joel doesn't hesitate to pat her back and smile as Ryan jokes about having two of the prettiest women in the restaurant sitting at his table.

"Sorry, I'm a hugger," Carolina says as you sit across from them. Joel lays an arm across the back of your chair like this is a perfectly normal thing he does all the time.

"That's alright, ma'am. I don't mind." He says, and Carolina gives you a look.

"Ma'am? I like him already." She says, and you laugh.

Joel settles into the dynamic between the three of you easily and listens as Ryan tells stories from set and press events. It's no small feat that you let Joel meet two of the most important people in your life, and even though you didn't tell him to be, he's on his best behavior. He doesn't try to annoy you or do anything inappropriate in front of them. He compliments Carolina, calling her ma'am even after she told him he didn't have to, and exchanges dude-bro stories with Ryan all night. Except for the arm on your chair, he doesn't make any affectionate moves which you're grateful for.

With Ryan and Carolina there, it almost feels normal. It could also be your third glass of wine helping you relax too. Ryan makes a snarky comment about your drinking, to which you flip him off. "I'd be drinking too if I had to work with you all week!" Carolina says. Ryan feigns a blow to the chest, and she smacks his shoulder. "Did he tell you that Elizabeth started calling you Ryan's movie wife?" She asks, and you laugh.

"God, I hope she doesn't repeat that at school. Otherwise, you," you point at Ryan. "Are going to have a lot to explain to that poor teacher."

"Who's Elizabeth?" Joel asks as you take a bite of food. You hum to let him know you'll answer in a second, but Carolina beats you to it.

"Elizabeth is our daughter."

"And my goddaughter," you jump in. "She's the best kid in the world."

"Well, of course, you think that because you're not there for bedtime," Ryan says, and you roll your eyes.

"You're just mad because she's as stubborn as you are."

"That is... not entirely untrue."

You spend the rest of the dinner laughing and messing with each other. You even catch yourself leaning into Joel's side because he's so warm and comfortable, and the wine is making you deliriously happy. When the bill is placed on the table, you all fight over who gets to pay until Carolina chucks Ryan's card at the waiter. Joel holds his hand over the table, and Ryan shakes it in a form of masculine affection. "You really didn't have to do that, man," Joel says. "Next dinner is on me, alright?" He could be saying it to save face, but the idea that Joel likes Ryan and Carolina makes something in your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

Ryan practically carries Carolina to the car so they can relinquish the nanny for the night, but you and Joel go upstairs to the rooftop bar. You reason that it's high enough to hide from paparazzi, and you also needed an excuse to get some fresh air. You both order water and perch on a couch in the corner. At first, you don't say anything. Not because you're mad at him but because you're worried you'll ruin the night if you do. However, you don't need to exchange words for Joel to see you shivering and put his jacket over your shoulders. You smile and turn to look at him.

"This is the second time you've given me your jacket."

"Want me to stop?" He asks, genuinely curious, and you shake your head. A soft smile takes over his features, and you have to look away before you get sucked in.

"What'd you think of Ryan and Carolina?" You ask as you take a sip of water. His arm rests behind you again, and he adjusts to get more comfortable.

"I really liked 'em. They seem like good people."

"They are. Ryan and I were friends before I even moved to LA," you say. "I think they liked you too."

"Yeah?" He asks, and you nod. You meet his eyes again and hope he can see your sincerity.

"Yeah. Thanks for not being a total dick to them." You say, and he laughs. He puts his water on the table in front of you before reaching across you to dig into his jacket pocket. This close, you can smell the detergent he washed his shirt with and see the freckles faintly littering his skin. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter out of his jacket before relaxing into his spot again. Maybe it's the wine in your system or the joy from the night still filtering through your skull, but you don't take your eyes off him as he lights a cigarette. The ember glows brighter as he takes a drag and turns away from you to exhale. His jawline is sharp, and his neck looks especially pretty as he takes a breath.

"What're you thinkin' bout, pretty girl?" He asks, breaking your train of thought, and you smirk as you lean forward. His eyes drop to the neckline of your tank top, giving you the perfect opportunity to snatch the cigarette out of his hand and put it to your lips. He watches as you take a drag, your lipstick staining the filter, and exhale with a sigh.

"Thinking bout you."

"Me?" He raises his eyebrows as you pass him the cigarette back. His thumb traces your lipstick stain before he puts it back in his mouth. "What about me?"

"About how stupid this whole situation is," you gesture vaguely around you. "About how we really shouldn't be so mean to each other."

"You're a sentimental drunk," he says, passing you the cigarette without acknowledging it, and you smile. It really wouldn't be that hard to pull another cigarette out of his pack for you, but he doesn't. Your fingers graze his as you take it, flicking the ash to the side. He waits until you blow smoke out of your nose to mess with the sleeves of his shirt and nod. "But, maybe you're right."

"Oh, say it again." You say, and he gives you a look. You pass the cigarette back even though about half of it is burned down from you two sharing it. His long drags don't help salvage it.

"I really shouldn't have said what I said bout you sleepin' with people to get famous. That was really fucked up, and I'm sorry."

"It was really fucked up. And unoriginal. And fucking stupid. And completely untrue," you say, and he looks a little worried. "But, thank you for apologizing." He nods and offers you the last little bit of glowing cigarette.

"Can we call a truce?"

"A truce?"

"Yeah. We'll stop goin' out of our way to make each other's life fuckin' miserable and move on. Maybe at the end of this, we could even be friends." He says, and you take a deep breath as you take the cigarette from him.

"You always make peace agreements with nicotine?"

"You're my first, pretty girl."

There's that fucking nickname again. It's better than darling, and you should hate it, but the way he says it makes your head swim. You inhale the last drag and stub it out in the ashtray next to your water as you try to get your thoughts under control again. You catch the bartender looking over at you and Joel, and an uneasy feeling crawls up your spine. You swallow it down and look at Joel.

"I'll agree to a truce." You say, smoke leaving your mouth as you talk, and he smiles.

"Should we shake on it?" He asks. You glance between him and the bartender and scoot closer to him. His eyes flick from yours to your lips and back up to your eyes.

"I would say yes," you whisper. "But, I think that bartender figured out who we are."

"So, what should we do instead?" He asks, his voice so low that you almost miss it over your own heartbeat. You want to roll your eyes at how stupid his question is but kiss him instead. His hands come up to your jaw, and you wrap your hand around his wrist to keep him there. There are traces of nicotine and tequila on his lips, but you can't focus on it too hard before his teeth graze your bottom lip. He swallows your gasp and soothes the sudden pain with his tongue. You would push him away and yell at him if it didn't feel so good. You can’t help but wonder what his mouth would feel like on your neck or your thighs. You wonder what pretty girl would sound like in between pants and broken moans. You wonder if he’d leave bruises on your inner thighs for you to find in the morning. The thoughts startle you out of the moment, and you pull away from him, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist.

"'M getting tired. Can you take me home?" You ask. He looks like a kicked puppy but nods anyway. He holds your hand the whole way down the stairs, through the restaurant, and to the car. You make shitty small talk the whole way back to your house like nothing happened, but you're grateful to have moved past the suffocating uncomfortable silence. He taps on his steering wheel again and changes the station when his own song comes on the radio, making you laugh. When he pulls into your driveway, you linger for a moment and look at him through the darkness. "Thank you for being so nice to my friends."

"I really did like 'em," he says. You pick at your nailbeds as you try to find a way to apologize for abruptly ending the evening. You feel bad for some reason. You were actually having a good time together, and then you made it weird. "Can I walk you to your door?" He asks, and you take a deep breath.

"I think I can get myself inside. Thank you, though."

"Welcome." He says as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. Joel's jacket shifts around you, and you suddenly remember that you're still wearing it.

"Oh, here. Let me give you your jacket back before I forget."

"Don't worry about it." He waves you off, and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"What do you mean don't worry about it? I'm not gonna steal your jacket, Joel."

"You're not stealin' it. You're just borrowin' it, right? I bet tabloids will eat it up if they see you wearin' it," he says. "Besides, it looks better on you anyways." You laugh and shake your head as you adjust your purse on your shoulder.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"G'night, pretty girl." He says. You shut the door and walk up the sidewalk to your front door, secretly cursing that stupid fucking nickname and how weak in the knees it makes you. His car lingers in the driveway until he sees you unlock the door and flicker the front lights at him, letting him know you got in safely. He honks twice before pulling away and driving off into the night.

You make a point to lock your door behind you and lean against it. You let out a shaky breath like it will expel his voice from your head and jump when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. When you pull it out, a bright text from Melanie stares back at you.

Two dates in a row?! You're killing it! This will be over before you know it <3

And attached to her scarily cheerful text is a picture of you and Joel kissing. It's blurry and obviously taken from far away, but it's there nonetheless. You pinch the bridge of your nose and send her a thumbs-up emoji before sending Ryan a "made it home" text and turning your phone off. The image of Joel's teeth scraping your bottom lip burns into your eyelids as you close your eyes and try to figure out where the fuck you go from here.

#one for the money two for the show #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #the last of us au #tlou au #joel x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x female reader #rockstar!joel miller

237 notes · View notes

restlessmaknae · 2 years ago

Text

love roulette | p1h hyung line

It's a casual uni party, and you meet three very different guys that night: Keeho, the chatty bartender; Jiung, the cute vocalist of the band that's playing that night; Taeyang, the guy who's there for the gig just like you.

Who ends up walking you home depends on your choice.

🎲 Are you ready for the love roulette? Spin it & see it!

♦️ Pairing: female!reader/you x p1h hyung line

♦️ Genre: fluff, romance, uni au

♦️ Warning: mentions of alcohol, a dude who doesn't understand no

♦️ Word count: overall 9.9k (each boy's own story is around 2.5k)

♦️ A/N: This series is like a 'choose your own ending' kind of series that starts out with a general setting, but you can decide which boy's story you would like to read further as each boy has their own seperate ending.

♦️ Dedicated to: @dat-town ❤️

♦️ P1Harmony taglist: @tranquilpetrichor, @laaylaazyy, @americanokisses, @kuleo26, @hyu-won, @bamboongi, @syrxiee2, @wccycc, @littlestartonightsposts, @sunooslover, @chang-ryul

🎲 READ FURTHER TO START THE GAME

You knew that this was a bad idea.

You knew the moment your friend slash roommate said that it would be a nice little university party. University parties were neither nice, nor little. Not that you had ever been to one. It's just what you had heard of. Someone always overestimated their drinking capabilities, girls were frequently hit on by rude guys who didn't understand no, and wild stories were going around campus even weeks after the little gatherings.

However, Gaeul's boyfriend, Intak, would be performing with his band at this music venue that was somewhere between a club and a bar. She didn't really beg you to come with her, but she also didn't want to go alone because a douchebag had tried to hit on her last time, and almost ganged up on her with his friends. If it hadn't been for Intak showing up right then, things might have gotten out of hand. So after that experience, you willed yourself to accompany her, at least until her boyfriend's band would finish, and you could go back to the dorms. That was the plan, at least. However, just like with everything at university parties, this didn't work out quite like you had imagined.

Not that the band was bad or anything. In fact, they were pretty good. At least, according to your standards, they were. You didn't really know a lot about music theory, but they were said to be a punk-rock band, and you had your punk-rock phase once.

"They don't really like to identify themselves as only one genre. Just like their name, Evergreen, they are trying out all genres that are well-loved by the people. Punk-rock, pop rock, British pop and so on," Gaeul had explained to you after you had arrived at the venue, and you had been standing by the stage, waiting for the band to start. She had sounded like their manager or PR person or something. She liked to pride herself in the fact that she had done their logo and helped out with their social media sites, so it was no wonder she was so up-to-date with such stuff.

The problem wasn't with them. What's more, standing so close to the stage meant that you had a good enough view of them. Intak was the bassist and rapper, Jiung was the guitarist and vocalist, Hyunsuk was on the drums and Doyum was on the synthesiser. Your eyes kept going back to Jiung with his fluffy, chestnut-brown hair, cute dimples that popped off whenever he was smiling (and he was smiling a lot!), velvety voice that seriously touched your heart when they played a ballad song, and his shy interactions with the audience. At one point, you felt like he was looking at you, right at you. They were singing a song called Lovestruck which was about a boy confessing to a girl that caught his eyes, but he was afraid to approach her as he had never done anything like this before. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, you told yourself, but matched with the lyrics, it felt oddly... fluttering?

Either way, when the band took a break, and Gaeul went backstage to meet up with Intak, you told her that you would go and get some drinks. There was a bit of a queue for the drinks, and you didn't want anything strong either way (one of the reasons you didn't go to parties was that you didn't necessarily indulge in alcoholic drinks).

No wonder the bartender looked a bit bewildered when you asked if they had plain water.

"Uhmm... I mean, yeah, we do have. But if you're bored of plain water, we have some non-alcoholic drinks, too. Not that I want you to have them, but you know, if you're here, it would be a shame to miss out on my very own Winter Wonderland cocktail," the bartender chattered gleefully, and he leaned closer on the counter as if he was telling you a secret when he continued. "Don't tell anyone, but I just call it the Elsa cocktail in my head," he admitted, donning a boyish grin, and you couldn't help but follow suit, your lips curling into a genuine smile.

"Okay, I guess I have to try that Elsa cocktail."

"Sshh, I've told you it's a secret name," the boy shushed you, but there was mischief in his eyes and childish excitement in his smile, so you knew that he was joking.

"What is in it though?" You asked before you would say your final call. You could only guess that the cocktail had such a name because it was white and maybe blue, too.

"Oh, there's some curaçao for the blue, and it also has elderflower syrup, sparkling water, some mint extract and coconut flakes.”

"Oh, okay, that sounds intriguing,” you noted, quite impressed that someone came up with the combination of these ingredients. While you were waiting for your cocktail to be ready, the chatty bartender introduced himself as Keeho, and shared with you how he had come up with the said cocktail himself. He and his friends had this chill sleepover at some campsite after their first semester where there was this do-it-yourself bar, and that's where he had made his Elsa cocktail for the first time.

"It's a good proof that you can have pretty good things when you least expect it," Keeho concluded after winding up his story and finishing your drink.

"Yeah, I agree," you nodded with a friendly smile, not even expecting to bump into such a fun stranger at this place. Even though Keeho seemed like the jokester type, he took his job seriously, and you saw it in the way he was ever so precise with his measurements. However, he couldn't miss the opportunity to do a little shake dance when he was mixing the ingredients in his cocktail shaker.

When you tried the drink, you were pleasantly surprised. It was a bit sour, a bit sweet, but it had such a nice aftertaste, you actually really enjoyed it. Even the blue stuff didn't throw off the balance.

"It's really good," you smiled at the bartender genuinely. He did a little courtesy, then laughed it off, telling you that he was glad to see you enjoying the drink, especially after your plain water request.

You did actually start feeling yourself at this point, but you knew that the break for the band was about to end and there was already a queue behind you too, so you paid and thanked the bartender for your drink. After manoeuvring between sweaty bodies for quite a while, you managed to get back to Gaeul.

"What's that? It looks super cool," your friend immediately beamed at the sight of your cocktail, and you shared both your drink and your funny encounter with the bartender with the girl. She got so pumped up that she asked you to remind her of ordering one for herself once the concert would be over.

As you looked at your watch, you noticed that you still had a bit of time until the break would be over, so you asked Gaeul to hold your cocktail for you because you needed to head to the restroom. There was a bit of a queue, but you managed to finish just in time for the first song. Or you thought so...

"Hey, honey. Are you lost?" A random guy by the wall asked as you were craning your neck to see above the heads of people around, to see if Gaeul was still around the same area of the dance floor or she moved closer. Given that your best friend was quite small (she would behead you if you said that she was adorably petite), you didn't have too much luck this way.

"No," you shook your head confidently, hoping that the guy would get the message. However, instead of doing so, he grabbed your wrist and made you turn towards him.

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"I'm heading towards my friend, so if you excuse me..." You tried your best to stay composed, but the guy's grip didn't loosen around your wrist, and the noise around you with the band starting on their song heightened, so it was more difficult to gain anyone's attention around you.

You tried to yank your arm away from the stranger, but to no avail. You had all kinds of thoughts going through your head, one more frantic than the other. Should you scream for help despite the loud music around? Should you kick him? Should you bite his arm?

However, in the next second, a tall, similarly unfamiliar boy with clearly dyed, slightly longer burgundy hair stood by you, and peeled the other guy's fingers off your wrist. It was in such a swift moment that you didn’t even have time to think or to protest. Not that you would have protested, to be honest.

"Who the hell are you?" The first guy hollered, quite frustrated, but the burgundy-haired one stayed calm.

"I'm the friend she was heading towards, so if you don't want me to file a complaint for harassment, I advise you to leave," he suggested with a semi-warning tone, but before the other could speak up, he continued. "There are CCTVs operating in here, and you can bet that anyone seeing her clearly wanting to break free from your grip would take her side."

Despite the fact that he wasn’t the friend you had been referring to, his tone was so firm that it didn’t leave room for any doubt. You didn’t even know if there were CCTVs around, but given his unwavering confidence, you wouldn’t have dared to go against his words. Neither did the rude guy, it seemed, as he backed off without apologising, but at least, he was out of sight in the next minute. Your shoulders immediately easened, and you let out a long, long sigh that you had been suppressing so far.

You turned towards the stranger with the chin-length, burgundy hair. Under the neon lights of the club, and with the catchy beats of the love song that was blasting through the speakers as the background music, he seemed like a dream. A dream that came suddenly and a dream that would go away all too soon, slipping through your fingers before you could hold onto reality.

“Are you okay?” He exclaimed over the music around, and despite the stern edge to his voice from earlier, his voice was gentle this time. He also had surprisingly soft features when he didn’t throw daggers with his almond-shaped eyes and when his lips weren’t pressed into a thin line.

“Yes. Thank you so much. For both the question and for helping me out,” you justified after clearing your throat, looking up at him expectantly. You didn’t know why you just stood there still, but your body wouldn’t budge, and due to the loud music around, you needed to be close to each other to understand what the other was saying, so you should have felt a bit nervous so close to someone like him.

Yet, you weren’t nervous.

“It was nothing. Guys like him need to learn a lesson,” he huffed, semi-annoyed, and your heart did a little somersault. It was silly, you knew that all too well. He probably said so out of courtesy, but still, the fact that he had been willing to step in and help you out meant a lot to you. “Are you actually with a friend or alone?”

“Oh, I’m here with my best friend for real. She’s probably close to the stage because her boyfriend is playing in the band that’s on, I’ve just gone to the restroom, and I bumped into this guy when I came out,” you answered him, probably unnecessarily long-winded, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he bobbed his head rather seriously, looking around for a moment before his eyes settled on you again.

“I’ll help you find your friend. It’s best if we go together after this. The crowd is also pretty tight closer to the stage,” he offered nonchalantly, and if it hadn’t been for him helping out before, you might have thought that he had ulterior motives. Given the circumstances though, you merely nodded, and made your way to Gaeul while squeezing yourself between sweaty bodies and checking over your shoulder every once in a while to see if the boy was still following you.

When you arrived beside Gaeul, she was so into the current song that she barely realised you were there, so you tapped her shoulder to gain her attention.

“Oh hey, you’re back!” She shouted over the music, and gave you a wide, dazzling smile. Happiness indeed looked good on her, you thought, as you smiled back.

When Gaeul’s chocolate-brown eyes darted from you to the boy beside you who just looked back at her, probably noting the fact that she was the friend you had been referring to without saying anything, you felt like the beat pulsating through the room and sending waves under your feet was in stark comparison to the atmosphere that fell upon the three of you.

The thought crossed your mind that the stranger would definitely leave because he was done with what he had offered to do, so he probably had no reason to stay, and it was awkward either way. You meant you showing up with a total stranger, and coming up to Gaeul as if you had known each other. Yeah, it was for the better if he left…

“Oh hi, I’m Gaeul! I’m her friend and dorm roommate,” the bob-haired girl introduced herself, still shouting over the music to get her message across.

“I’m Taeyang,” the burgundy-haired boy replied in an instant, his voice coming out stronger and more hoarse now that he was also raising his voice to be heard. Your friend nodded, then directed a knowing glance in your direction. However, before you could ask what was that for, a roar of applause reverberated through the place as the song came to an end, the band halting to talk a bit about the next song.

If you thought that was it for the unexpected events happening that day, you were in for a surprise. The rest of the night was even more surprising.

🎲 NOW, CHOOSE YOUR OWN ENDING:

🍀THEO

🍀JIUNG

🍀KEEHO

#p1harmony #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony x you #p1harmony fluff #p1harmony fanfic #keeho scenarios #theo scenarios #jiung scenarios #keeho x reader #jiung x reader #theo x reader #keeho imagines #theo imagines #jiung imagines

181 notes · View notes

liamrrys · 1 month ago

Note

your modern sotcn headcanons are giving me LIFE i need to hear all of them forever actually eva and rame being lawyers just makes SENSE it's like you got a vision from the characters themselves

anyway: modern sotcn where they're at a gala for their firm and they meet the characters from Laws of Attraction (and Thomas Mendez cuz why not) 😭😭 who are from a rival firm and chaos ensues maybe Livius was invited as a friend of a friend, and Amen was there to investigate Eva and Rame's firm

yay!! i'm so glad you like them!! i've been putting them out into the void for my own guilty pleasure, so it's so fun 2 see others enjoying them too!!!

YES!! i love a gala sideplot unfortunately i don't remember much of laws of attraction im so sorry </3

funnily enough i like to think that livius was invited as rame's unofficial +1 😭

eva's +1 to these events will always be isman. that's her brother, that's her boy, roomies 4 life. however, isman doesn't really want to be in a room filled with stuffy lawyers (which is fair enough) and asks if he can bring a friend from work.

eva asks who he's bringing, and if it's anyone special. she makes fun of him for working so hard, that the only friend he's made so far is his boss.

livius also finds it amusing, but because he's a bit of a material girl and enjoys a bit of glamour in his life — he'll never turn down a gala. he might even use this time to make connections on behalf of the hospital.

eva grits through her teeth when she shuffles to rame's work cubicle, coffee in hand, looking unbearably and uncharacteristically sheepish.

she places the coffee down gently on his table.

he looks up at her, slightly confused, and back down at his work. "who the hell are you and what did you do with evthys."

"ramesses... we're friends right?"

"not really." (he's smiling)

she asks if he could pretty please give his +1 invitation to her so that isman doesn't have to go by himself. rame pretends to think about it. he wasn't going to use it anyway. he just wanted to see eva squirm a little bit.

(dia and isman meet here for the first time. eva and rame are too busy checking each other out bickering outside of work hours to notice.)

as for amen:

being in a room full of people who wanted him dead was not the way he wanted to spend his saturday evening, but when duty calls, it calls.

when the mayor wants a representative from the police department, it's not easy to decline, so much to his protest, he attends with his second-in-command, titian.

titian's chatty abrasive (though surprisingly charming) attitude saves him from having to do any real socialisation himself. the con is that he gets along with them too well, and kind of leaves him stranded for the rest of the night.

literally nothing this dude hates more than lawyers and pleasantries — and yet here he was.

it's a little funny to see someone so imposing as amen look so out of his element. livius sees amen from a distance. recognises his white hair and alabaster skin. an old patient of his.

(livius helped perform extraocular muscle surgery on him to alleviate some of the pain he experiences due to his ocular albinism during his first year of medical residency.)

he taps him on the shoulder and hands him a drink. "i take it you recovered well."

"doctor pella." amen's rbf softens at the sight of him. there's even a hint of a smile if you look hard enough. "it's good to see you again." he takes the drink offered. "i trust you survived your residency?"

"by the skin of my teeth, detective." he clinks his glass to amen's. "tell me what you've been up to lately."

#surprise amen livius sorry #i have amen and livius routes for an eva romance but tbh im always going to default to rame/eva + a bitta amenlivius im just a girl im sorr #also yeah livius' last name is pella #last names have proven 2 be a surprisingly difficult addition for this verse but w/e #modern!sotcn

6 notes · View notes

littlegoldfinchh · 7 months ago

Note

If the dude never texted your friend the details, and his gf who was off-put around you wasn't even going to be there, then I feel like that fucker was just setting you up for drama (if not worse). Fuck that guy; I hope other friends around are better and that they respect what you and your bf have going on. Also hope you have an immensely good and worry free day to make up for it.

Like dhdhhs yeah there was definitely something weird going on. And i genuinely feel like im way too old for this highschool drama thing

But just to give you the whole story:

Guy invites both me and my friend to a house party in person on Monday, we both say yes

Guy only texts me about plan changes (which i didn't know), but i kept updating my friend as well

Me and my friend both get pissed off because the Guy changed plans like six times and i straight up told him that im not sure if i can make it anymore since everything changes from the location to the time

Guy immediately gives me a concrete plan of the night and even asked me if i wanted to reschedule the whole party

And mentions that we could totally continue the party at their house and i could totally sleep there if i end up missing the buses home - i straight up just said no and didn't give it a second thought

Meanwhile my friend still doesn't get any info on the party even when he asked, which makes him super upset since the Guy is his friend, not mine (i've only been talking to him for a single week now) and he also needed a concrete plan since he was hanging out with his girlfriend all afternoon/night so he wanted to know when he had to leave obviously

We agree on a pub at 10pm

Guy texts me at 8pm that he and his crew are already there (no girls apparently!) and how i should join them (actually texts me like at least three times about this and i declined each time)

He never texts my friend about them being already there and how he should come earlier too, my friend only realized this because i texted him immediately

He gets pissed off understandably and cancels the whole thing, i was already getting a bad feeling about this so i texted the guy that i won't come since my friend isn't coming either and i refuse to drink with people i literally do not know

Guy gets pissed off

Meanwhile i asked my friend if the Guy actually invited him to shop for plushies last week (because he asked if i wanted to join him and help him choose a present for one of his friends since my friend wasn't available and hw didn't want to go alone)

My friend says no the Guy never asked him

My friend's girlfriend took his phone and fhhd for the rest of the night i was texting with her which i found a bit fhjdj but apparently my friend went to the bathroom and she was too invested in this little detective play we had going on

So turns out that the Guy isn't really chatty with other people but he always texts me like every two hours or even more frequently

We (my bf, my friend, his gf, me) came to the deduction that the Guy might be hitting on me even though i explicitly stated many many times that i had a boyfriend, like i even told him about how excited i was to finally go to the states this summer for a visit

So now i feel awkward as hell because idk if he's hitting on me or he's just super friendly with me, this is the first time i actually have male friends in person because i've always been a bit too anxious and paranoid to approach them before. Like i was so happy that im slowly getting over my fear since my friend is super nice and the Guy was pretty nice too (he even gave me his copy of ghost of tsushima to play) but now idk. Fhjd

I've always been extremely uncomfortable with people hitting on me, again, might be because im aspec but i just feel disgusted/uncomfortable just from the thought alone and the only person who is more than welcome to do anything he wants to me is my boyfriend obviously. Like i just jfjf can't comprehend that people can find me attractive when im incapable of developing those feelings myself (again, obviously my boyfriend is an exception) . Bht yeah i just dont want anyone (but him) to perceive me like that ever . Babe if you're reading this wake up and start perceiving me immediately please

So uhhh yeah that's it! The whole story. Gf turned out to be nice, i might go drinking with them sometime!

#so yeah it's long and hdhd im so old for this you know? .#but yeah my day should be chill #gonna go to the gym and then back home for a long weekend hehe #and im gonna play ghost of tsushima!!!!!#mwah. thank you for sending these asks btw:)#ask #anon

7 notes · View notes

janatm · 3 days ago

Text

the way that we movin' is reckless, baby || BRAKE

tagging: Jake Puckerman & Bree Brown

date & time: August 9, 2024 at night

location: Puck's Place

warnings: jake being a drama queen and bree not communicating effectively

summary: What started off as a much needed conversation about the breakdown of their relationship turns into something that feels very final.

word count: 4,363

BREE never thought she'd be spending the night with Jake where the main objective wasn't sex. At least, not since they broke up. Even though they hadn't been alone alone, this still felt intimate. Being apart of his time with his niece, like she was family too. Between this and Jake going around implying he wants to marry her, Bree felt a surge of affection, of love, for her ex, and it made her furious and hopeful. It was confusing and as she sat on the couch, she waited for Jake to come back with some water for her. Maybe she was just dehydrated and that's why her brain was short circuiting every time she looked at him. As he walked back in, she smiled and took the water. "Don't get any ideas. We are not hooking up with your niece in the house." She said swinging her legs over his andbgetting comfortable.

JAKE was killing two birds with one stone here with Maya and Bree, which was kind of a relief. Defending himself lately and trying to convince his ex that he hadn't been doing anything other than hanging out with Puck and Maya was much easier now that the chatty teen could co-sign his story, and show Bree the embarrassing TikToks they'd made before deciding she needed to go talk to her friends. Grabbing Bree's water, Jake handed it over and flopped back down. "Babe, I wasn't gonna make a move while baby Puckerman is in the house. Give me some credit. I'm actually a great uncle." He laughed. "And besides, those texts the other day seemed...like you needed us to talk some shit out anyways."

BREE laughed as her ex praised himself for being a good Uncle. She wasn't going to bring up the fact that he'd only been one for a few weeks because seeing him and Maya together, she could tell he was actually having fun having a family. Plus, she had to agree, he was a pretty good uncle. Drinking some of the water she figured if he was gonna open the door for an actual conversation then she'd give it a try. Looking at him, she found herself moving into him a little more, bending her legs so she could scoot in a bit more. "I know we weren't..." A pause. "That I wasn't perfect but-" she just needed to ask it for fuck sake. "I didn't let you explain and so I've spent the last couple of months assuming the worst and I just need to know why you cheated on me. Even if it hurts to hear."

JAKE hated doing the whole talking thing when feelings and shit were involved, which he was sure he'd gotten from his mom and Gabe, but it had been almost four months since their break up and he decided that she deserved the truth — even if he wasn't fully ready to get into that whole thing. As soon as she started speaking, he sighed as he gently ran a hand along her thighs. "Neither one of us were perfect, but that's not what we expected anyways." He pointed out before exhaling a deep breath. "Being your secret, or on campus only, boyfriend was kind of fucked up. I ain't using that as an excuse, but being this boyfriend you couldn't post about, take around your folks, tell anyone who wasn't at PSU about wasn't easy to deal with. Especially when I had to see you out at your little events and shit with other lil' content dudes. I sucked that shit up as best as I could, but then it just started bothering me more and...I went to a party that one night, met some girl who didn't mind posting me on her Snap and shit, and I just let things go too far. Wasn't 'cause I didn't want you, but it was just nice to be with somebody who wasn't afraid to be seen with me like that."

BREE liked to think of herself as a rational and mature person. Generally, when people spoke she listened and processed to the best of her ability, asked clarifying questions if needed and nothing had to get out of hand. Unless, of course, her feeling were involved, in which case she was pretty damn immature about things and struggled to see different perspectives and actually listen to what's being said. Which is definitely why when Jake spoke, instead of hearing him she was just thinking of a retort. "So it's my fault? You knew what it was going to be when we got together, if that wasn't going to work for you, then you shouldn't have been with me." She was riling herselfup and she pulled awway from him a bit. "And you could've come to me, could have talked to me instead of 'sucking it up' and fucking the first bitch who posted you on her snapchat." She said, her voice slightly raised because she was still upset about all of this, more so than she thought.

JAKE had expected this sort of reaction from Bree, which was why it had taken him so long to get into this before. He knew the kind of pressure she was under to live up to her parents' bullshit wants for her, and he had known what he was getting himself into here yet he had still gone into this because he'd wanted her. He still wanted her, that hadn't changed obviously, but he was at least able to think about it more rationally than his ex. "I didn't say it was your fault, Bree." He pointed out, deciding to stay calm since them both getting worked up wasn't gonna help. "I know you, and I've heard you every single time you've complained about having to do whatever your parents want you to do. I know you're under a lot of pressure to be this perfect daughter that they want you to be, so that's why I didn't say shit. You had enough on your plate already so I didn't want to add to it." Jake shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "I fucked up, okay? It's not like I even wanted that girl, I just...I needed somebody to want me and to not be ashamed of being with me, even for just an hour or two. It was wrong, and I am sorry."

BREE was ready for things to escalate. That is what she had been prepared for. For him to say it was her fault and that she wasn't enough for him or that he got bored or he just didn't care. That he hadn't loved her or wanted her and most of all she expected him to get angry, maybe tell her to get out, but he didn't. He didn't say or do any of those things. Instead he was calm and it broke her heart. Not that he was calm but that he thought she had been ashamed of him because that was so far from the truth but how could he have known that? It just hit her in a wave and she didn't cry but she could feel tears welling up, all the same. Biting the inside of her cheek, she stopped those tears from falling. "I was never ashamed of you, Jake. I wanted you with me at every event and in every photo, every video but my parents they just, they didn't approve and I can't.... I can't disappoint them." She wiped at her cheeks where a tear had managed to escape. "I thought you just... didn't want me anymore. I didn't know I was hurting you. I'm sorry." It wasn't everyday Bree apologized, but she meant it.

JAKE furrowed his brows when he noticed Bree soften at his words, and while it hadn't been his intention, he was at least glad that she was receptive to what he had to say. Arguing and snapping at one another wasn't gonna get anything accomplished, and he noticed the way she was fighting back tears and could only nod along as she spoke. He had heard all of this before and while he did appreciate it, it wasn't gonna magically change anything either. "I know you can't disappoint them, which is why you disappoint yourself and the other people you care about instead." He pointed out, reaching a hand out and placing it on Bree's thigh, giving it a small squeeze. "Baby girl, there was never a moment when I didn't want you. I always did — I still do." He admitted before he was leaning in closer to his ex. "Look, I get that we weren't perfect, and that I made shit worse, but Bree, you can't think that I fucked up because I didn't want you. I fucking love you."

BREE had been holding it together pretty well considering how she actually felt. Neither one of them was the best when it came to just saying what they felt, but it was a particularly rare occurrence for Jake, who, for the most part, came off as a rather unserious man. But the tone of his voice, the way he was looking at her, she knew he meant every word he said and it was getting harder and harder to not just let every single wall down for him. To not just melt into him and let him hold her together. It would be so easy, it was always so easy with Jake. Then her brain processed exactly what he had just said and she felt her heart stop as she looked at him. Really analyzed his features, replayed the words in her head. He had never said that to her, I mean she thought - she hoped but he had never said it. God he was so close and he smelled good and he loved her. He fucking loved her. Leaning forward she closed the distance between them and did exactly what she said she wouldn't do again and kissed him. Before she knew it she was straddling him and her breathing was heavy when she finally pulled away. Her arms around his neck, she put her hands on his chest to give them some distance. "You've never said that to me. Why'd you say it now?"

JAKE hadn't meant to say it, not at all, but he also wasn't able to hold himself back with Bree. She knew him too well, even when he hadn't wanted her to, so there was no lying to her, and he'd hidden his true feelings for a while. Not intentionally, but it kinda took him a while to even accept it, and by then, he'd already fucked up and lost her — or so he'd thought anyways. He noticed her leaning in and he didn't move, deciding to let her make the moves here, though he still managed to inhale a small breath as she kissed him. His hands immediately went to her waist the second she was straddling him, and the heavy breathing only left him desperate for more. He was sure that his face showed just how disappointed he was that they'd needed air and had to pull apart. As soon as Bree asked the question, he was sure that he died a little on the inside yet again. "By the time I realized that's what I felt for you, it was too late. And it's not like you talk to me much aside from yelling at me and telling me to fuck off, or trying to make me jealous with that white boy, so I couldn't just tell you any other time." Jake sighed. "And I ain't say it now 'cause I want it to fix shit and we get back together right at this moment. I just needed you to know how I felt."

BREE lightly smacked his shoulder after his comment about Shep, but didn't comment, deciding to let him finish answering her question. Leaning in again, she planted a quick kiss on his lips. "In my defense, you're a very aggrivating person." She said playfully putting a hand around his neck before kissing him again. "And I'm not trying to do anything. I've told you, we're just friends." Again she kissed him and it was a dangerous game she was playing here. This was not a good position for her to let herself get into with her ex. Her ex who is an ex for a reason, it's just in this moment, she doesn't care why, because he loves her and she loves him. "I -" Uh oh, she wanted to say it back but when she tried the words just wouldn't come out. Instead, she just looked at him and contemplated hooking up and hoping he could just tell, but that was definitely not the right move. Or she could get off of him and leave because she never should have been here in the first place but that was also a hell no. "So now what?" She asked, opting to just hope it went unnoticed.

JAKE smiled as Bree kept planting quick kisses on his lips, deciding to just let her have her way...for now. "I only aggravate you because you want me." He teased, though they both knew it was true. It was also why she kept insisting that nothing was happening with Shep yet any time they were talking shit, she'd made a point to try and talk the dude up as if he were hitting it at all. "At one point you said he was tapping my ass, so which is it?" He asked, raising a brow as she eyed her. Not that it mattered either way, since she'd proven that even while intoxicated, Bree came to him, not to her little fake boyfriend. Staring at his girl's face, he could see the internal struggle going on between her mind and her mouth, and he just nodded. "I know, baby girl." Maybe he should have just challenged her to say it, but he wasn't in the mood now, and he figured she'd get there was she was ready. Moving his hands to her ass, he squeezed it firmly as he shrugged. "Any other time, I'd whip my dick out and tell you to strip and sit on it, but my niece is just one room away." Jake groaned. "But you can stay right here, and we can talk about the wedding your parents are gonna pay for in a few years. I'm sure you're gonna want something over the top, but I want an open bar, chicken sliders, maybe some fireworks, and Kendrick Lamar has to perform at the reception."

BREE wawnted to disagree and say he aggrevates her being he's annoying but it was be a lie he'd see through immediately, so what was the point? Besides, he'd just admitted to loving her and that earned him at least ten minutes of nice Bree time. "I just think there's a lot of tension between you two that could be alleviated by hooking up and if I'm there as a witness then it's a win/win." While her feelings for Shep might be what the public thinks they are, she does find herself attracted to that charming smile and southern twang. She wouldn't be mad at seeing two good looking men make out. Giving Jake a genuine smile as he let her off the hook for the whole, I love you, she felt her love for him grown. He understood her in a way no one else did and loved her anyway. It made her feel seen. Unable to hold back the giggle as he grabbed her ass and she scrunched her nose at his vulgarness and then before she even had time to say anything about it, he had her smiling again just to have her rolling her eyes two seconds later. "It's out wedding, not a Wendy's we're not doing chicken sliders. And I want Beyonce singing Halo as our first dance song, so if I can manage that then I can definitely get you Kendrick." Sighing as she snuggled into him, adjusting herself so she was sitting on his lap more comfortably. "But that's not what I mean, I mean what about us now?"

JAKE furrowed his brow's at Bree's suggestion, and he was sure she'd fallen and bumped her fucking head. "Is he gay? Cause I ain't, but even if I were gonna let some dude suck me off, it wouldn't be him." He huffed, and he couldn't even believe that Bree would suggest such an atrocious idea, yet of course she wanted to see it. "And you're one to talk. I see women flirting with you too, so why don't you bring one back to my place some time and give daddy a little show?" He suggested, and he was mostly just saying it to get back at her, but he wouldn't turn it down if she wanted to follow through. With the way she'd reacted the last time he'd mentioned their future wedding, he was at least glad to see that she could joke about it now, even if he fully meant that they were getting married in the future. "Listen, I don't want some fancy ass caviar or whatever you rich people eat, okay? It's my day too so I think we have to mix your bougie tastes with my...affordable ones. And sadly, I don't think Beyonce is taking wedding performance gigs unless you know her personally, which we don't." Jake pointed out. Locking his arms around her tighter, he didn't really have to think about her question before he was sighing softly. "As much as we both want this, I can't do the whole dating thing again until you're ready to stand up to your parents. It's not fair to either of us, and honestly, I just can't do that shit again."

BREE raised an eyebrow at Jake's protests and she wouldn't say it, but again she thinks both of them protest a little too much for there to be no tension at all but that could just be the smutty book reader in her. Rolling her eyes at his suggestion, she didn't even want to respond. "Because daddy hasn't earned a show." Which of course implied that he could, which maybe if they were 100% more stable in their situation she would maybe, possibly consider it. The use of 'we' was not lost on her and her heart kind of melted at the idea of them being a we again. "There's time, I could meet her and she could love me and be honored to sing Halo for us." Okay, so she wasn't actually delsional, as much pull as her parents had she doubted even they could make that happen, but truthfully so long as she's marrying the love of her life she doen't care. That's not true, she's going to be a bridezilla. She'll be lucky if she doesn't get left before the big day. Nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck as he spoke, she didn't love what he was saying but she understood. "And I don't trust you not to hurt me like that again and getting back into a relationship with you knowing that, wouldn't be fair to either of us either." Nervously biting on her bottom lip, she stopped and looked at him again. "So are we just.... friends?"

JAKE rolled his eyes right back when Bree didn't immediately agree with his suggestion, because of course she wouldn't. That would be too easy and Bree Brown didn't do anything easy. "But what I heard is that the option could potentially be on the table? Good to know." He nodded, figuring that was a little payback of his own. But they weren't in a place for a threesome regardless, so he wasn't going to dwell on it too much. he let her ramble off about Beyonce and just nodded in support of her delusion, knowing damn well that Beyonce would never make an exception for them, no matter what connections the Browns had. But they had years to pick out what they wanted for their wedding. Sighing when Bree mentioned him hurting her, he did agree there, and they weren't going to get any better without fixing their issues, so Jake was willing to be mature for once. "We're more than friends.." He hummed, squeezing her ass as he met her gaze. "It doesn't matter what we label this. We both know what we want, we just have some work to do so for...we're exes who are figuring things out." That probably sounded just as messy as their situation was, but he didn't care. "Let's just take this one day at a time?"

BREE would pout and maybe she did a little bit, but at least for now, they both knew a threesome was definitely not a good idea. There is no way she'd have fun in a threesome with Jake. Listening to her ex try and describe what they were to each other now, was slightly painful for her. It was just too loosey goosey, not enough certainties or boundaries. A part of her wanted to just make this a clean break like she had attempted in the first place, but well, we see how successful that was the first time. So, maybe there was a middle ground between cutting him off completely and sitting in his lap talking about their future wedding. "You know I'm not a take it one day at a time kind of girl, Jacob. I need clarity. So for the sake of clarity can we agree that we are not in a relationship. And even if we still have feelings for each other, we are free to date and sleep with who we like but maybe we just don't talk to each other about it."

JAKE being left to define or label what they were now was dangerous, given that he'd been the one to ruin an already fractured relationship anyways, and he could tell from Bree's body language that his words weren't what she was looking for. Not that it mattered much since the alternatives weren't great either, but he was open to other suggestions. Or he was until Bree tossed out an alternative he had at the bottom of the list, for obvious reasons. "Are you sure about this? "Cause you're the one who's always chewing me out about sleeping with other women, even when it's been weeks and the only person I've had sex with has been you." He hummed, though he was sure he'd probably get chewed out for that too. "And that's not really clarity. We just keep doing what we've been doing, but fucking other people too? And what if feelings for other people get involved too? We just..carry on?"

BREE was aware that her grilling Jake on his sexual exploits had less to do with her thinking he was out there fucking whoever, whenever and more of a projection because she was the one having sex with other people. She was also aware that her not wanting them to discuss who else they're sleeping with was because she didn't want him to know that she was out here fucking other people. Especially, Shep. For some reason, he specifically got under Jake's skin and she simply refused to believe that had anything to do with her. However, he was right. It wasn't really clarity, it was her way of getting everything she wanted. It was selfish but she also wasn't entirely sure what the solution was. "We're not together anymore. We're not getting back together. Isn't it normal that we see other people?" Truthfully, she had felt somewhat guilty the past few weeks and maybe she was looking to be absolved of that guilt. "We should stop this." She motioned between herself and her ex. "No more sex, no more flirting, no more making out, no more intimate moments. A real break up."

JAKE was slightly expecting them to work out some sort of condition that worked out well for them both, so his mouth went dry when Bree started talking and implied that they were completely over. Sure, she'd said this same stuff before, yet this felt different. The whiplash he was getting from her shifting from one decision to the next was even too much for him now. "Are you serious?" He huffed before he gripped her waist tighter and moved her off of his lap. "Fuck it, we're done." He decided as he stood up. "You can see yourself out. I'm sure Shep is probably waiting by the phone for you to call anyways, so have fun with that, and don't fucking show up at my place the next time you're drunk and horny for something other than a mediocre stroke game. You keep your distance, and I'll keep mine." Jake stated as he started to head for Maya's bedroom. "I'll tell my niece you said goodbye, now get out."

BREE kind of saw this coming. Eventually, maybe not tonight but at some point she was going to piss him off enough that's he'd be over it. She'd been punishing him since she found out he cheated. Felt entitled to do and say what she wanted to him to try and hurt him the way he hurt her. While she hadn't expected to manage that tonight, she did and unsurprisingly, it didn't feel good. Could she have tried talking to him, sure but if she had hurt him even a fraction as much as he hurt her then it would be pointless and likely just piss him off more. So she gathered what she had brought over, left her birthday gift for Puck on the table and pulled every ounce of strength she had not to turn around and beg. Once he was outside she felt a tear run down her cheek. And then another. And another. Already, she missed him and she wished she had been able yo say the words. To tell him she loved him. Just so he would know. But she hadn't and now she might never get to.

#threads ( bree brown )#character tag ( bree brown )#bree ( ft. jake puckerman )#ship tag ( brake )

0 notes

princessdreamie · 2 months ago

Text

DBH part 73

C got a call from his dad that today he would get him from the school grounds. C was kind of annoyed bc he was actually planning on checking up opon Sa & La. He hasn't heard from them in a while and wanted to make sure his pen pal is doing Ok.

But it is not like he is used to have his plans pushed back from time to time but he was a teenager.

He has a life outside his family. But whats done is done. He would just go tomorrow to their apartment. E arrived at his school with his driver and called him in. As per usual, E was on his phone doing some business with the person in the other end.

C meanwhile goes back to his own phone, checking his messages. Fa had been on a trip with Mel for some well deserved Break. They showed off some incredible stuff that they saw while they were on the road.

C envied them. Being a star gives his pal a lot of excuses on missing some school days. And Mel is no exception.

Both of them worked hard on eachother of their jobs (including Mel's jewelry designer job). All that thinking made him question what he actually wanted to do. Over the years he started to think that taking over his dad's place as the next CEO wouldn't be the right thing for him.

He hasn't even found a decent side job. Not like E would approve,being a Ferguson and all. His aunt, which he had barely any memeroies of, didn't seem to work either when he was a child. He was thinking of working as a dog walker or even a home trainer. He is pretty fit and he would make a good instructor in his opinion.

E finished his phone call and asked about his day. Taken aback by his parent's sudden question he gave a curt answer and went back to his phone.

But the man still wasn't satisfied and kept pushing with random questions.

If C didn't know any better he would have though that his dad actually cared for his private life. It is true that the 2 of them get along just fine. But it was still so weird that his cold & emotional distant father made an effort to keep up a conversation.

After answering all his questions he had some of his own: „Dad, where are we going? Thats not the way home.“ E told him to be patient and so they drove on until they reached a newly opened coffee shop. With an outside bar & a band of 2 playing a song inside the building.

After getting into the shop, E mentioned to his son that one of his partners will get here to talk about a new product. This coffee shop is actually owned by his sister & was very proud to show it off.

C listened to him as he took in the smell and music of the establishment. All of a sudden a guy called out to them.

E grimaced as he recongized the voice. It was Keith (Ke). Unlike E, C didn't mind that man. He met his daughter once or twice. One time at the party (he thinks) but other than that he only keep a good relationship with his 'uncle' Ke.

C & Ke greeted eachother like normal but once he came to his pal the dude just kept on rambling on & on about random stuff. C found him hilarious. But we all know how E feels about his pesky friend.

Ke told the duo about the new drinks they should try as a young gentleman stepped inside. E didnt try to stop his chatty friend and led his son to the petson who just arrived.

#billionaire heiress #chance #eric #eric ferguson #better ending #alternative #alternative ending #divorced billionaire heiress #dbh

0 notes

blckbarbree · 3 months ago

Text

the way that we movin' is reckless, baby || BRAKE

tagging: Jake Puckerman ( @puckjake ) & Bree Brown

date & time: August 9, 2024

location: Puck's Place

warnings: jake being a drama queen and bree not communicating effectively

summary: What started off as a much needed conversation about the breakdown of their relationship turns into something that feels very final.

#jake puckerman ― 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓪𝓰 #f2f °( ft. jake )#°𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓽𝓪𝓰 ↳ f2f #― interaction tag

1 note · View note

decadentpaperduck · 3 years ago

Text

Happy Accidents - TASM!Peter x Fem Reader

Words: 2.2k Warning: Fluff! Summary: You and Peter meet entirely by accident and from that moment, all that follows appears to be happy accidents.

You wonder if a dress is too…dressy for what is essentially a study session. Its just plain black,��so not exactly raunchy, but you didn't want to make no effort at all. Besides, what if your study partner has some cute roommates?

The last year of college was notoriously known for lecturers asking students to complete tasks that should have been set in the first semester. Your lecturer had asked you, and class clown James Johnson, to put together a powerpoint presentation on some of the literary theories you’d been studying. It was a box to tick on the syllabus, but you don’t mind, if nothing else, it would be a laugh.

When the door to James' apartment opens, it wasn't him standing in front of you. James had blonde hair and a nose ring. This boy had brunette hair and a lopsided smile you could just devour.

“Are you here for James?” His voice is soft, smooth and comforting, a total shift from James’ personality. His eyes seem to scan down your body but there is nothing lingering or uncomfortable about the look, it was welcome.

“Yeah.” You feel your throat drying up and swallowed hard, trying to regain some composure. He stands back and holds the door open for you. "Thanks."

"Any time." You wonder how many other times there might be.

Someone else strides in from what you assumed to be the kitchen, also not your powerpoint partner.

"James, my dude. Parker has had to let your girlfriend in, so stop fucking about with your hair already!" And with that, Nameless Nomad disappears towards the back of the apartment.

The one known as Parker was now sat down on the couch, in a divot he must occupy frequently.

“Maybe take a seat, I really don’t know how long he’ll be.” You timidly take a seat, close enough to be friendly but not overbearing. He picks up a large blue book from the coffee table, something science related strewn across the cover. As soon as the pages fall open, he seems entranced. A smile spreads across your lips, perhaps even a grin. You reach up to your face and scratch your nose, hoping to obscure the view. He notices, but pretends not to, clearing his throat and shifting his position on the couch to get a better look at you out of the corner of his eye.

James eventually jogs out of the hallway, slightly red in the face. "I'm here. I'm here." He holds up his hands and bows his head, as though you had been waiting hours for this moment. "I'm sure Pete was chatting your ear off." He winks and chuckles at his own joke. The blank look on your face tells him it went right over your head. You hadn’t even known his proper name until that second. James over explains. "He isn't a chatty dude."

Pete shrugs in response, he knew he wasn’t. He was simply selective in his word choices and who he spoke freely with. He wasn’t sure himself how much of it was his personality or how much of it was secret identity related. "Are you okay to do this out here in the living room?"

"Course I am." You laugh. "It would have been weirder if you'd asked me to go with you to your room, don't you think?"

"Okay…you’ve got me there. Haven’t had enough sleep.” God only knew what he got up to at the weekends. ”Want a drink?"

You agree to a water. Remembering the sudden dehydration that overcame you when you arrived.

When James comes back he pops your water on the table and takes a swig of a fresh bottle of beer. "Never too early." James remarks before you can even nod a thank you.

You and James make a semi-formal routine of these study sessions for the following few days until one day you arrive and there was no James. Nameless nomad, now known as Tom, opens the door.

“Hey!” He yanks the door open wide. “He’s not here at the minute, not sure where he is. You’re welcome to come in and wait.”

“Sure.” You agree without much thought and step directly into the living room and sit at the spot on the couch you had claimed as your own.

“I’m just in the middle of a game right now so I have to shoot, but I’ll catch you later maybe?” You wave him off and pull your phone out of your bag to check the time. Maybe it was too late in the day. Maybe he had other plans. Oh well. It crosses your mind that if you don’t see James, you may well see someone else. Someone you had been looking forward to seeing.

Out of the kitchen walked Peter Parker himself, the man who had been featuring in all of your dreams since you met. You hated to admit that. You had only met him like three times prior to this moment, it felt unfair to have him occupy so much space in your brai-

“Penny for your thoughts?” His voice breaks through your messy thoughts as he drops himself down on the sofa. You are sure he is sitting closer to you each time there was an opportunity. You hope you aren’t just making it up.

“I think I would have to charge you more than that I am afraid.” He tilts his head, urging you to continue. “I have student loans to pay.” Peter’s laugh is a delight to your ears. He is great at laughing at your jokes. He either sincerely finds you funny or has exceptional social cues.

“Okay,” He pauses and leans towards you, “Indulge me.” There is a moment of panic as you realise that you want to tell him but now is not the right time.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Deal.” That was easier than you thought. “Why are you here to work on a presentation that’s as good as done?”

“I wanted to be sure it was okay.” You start to wonder why you are here. Is it the project, is it Parker?

“James must think it’s okay if he isn’t currently here trying to work on it with you. No?”

“So you are saying my study partner stood me up!” You huff jokingly. “You could have said earlier if he’s made other plans!” He smiles.

“Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean you’re not welcome.”

"Oh yeah?"

"You're just not welcome anyway." You can tell he is trying hard not to laugh. He is pinning his mouth closed at the edge with his teeth and his eyebrow is definitely twitching.

"Oh I see how it is.” You make a dramatic move to get up but his hand grips around your wrist and pulls you back down next to him.

“No need to make any hasty decisions.” His hand is still around your wrist, just loosely. You look down at them together. He doesn’t take his hand away until your eyes meet his again. “Sorr-”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Good.” He nods. “I don’t actually want you to go.” Internally, Pete questions if that was the most ridiculous thing he has ever said to someone he met not even a week ago.

“Okay, I’ll wait till his royal highness shows up.” You don’t get to share what you are thinking, but something told you he knew.

James doesn’t show up, and Peter knows this a couple of hours before you do. Whilst you took a quick bathroom break to refresh your hair and lip balm, James had sent a message to the flat group chat saying that something had come up, so if his study partner was to arrive at the flat, they were to send her home with an apology. The something that came up was a girl, Pete and Tom both understood that, but they didn’t say anything about it.

Peter figured that, in this instance, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you, or at least he hoped that would be the case.

It turns into a different type of studying session. The topic? You. You are not typically one to talk about yourself but Peter makes it so easy. He wants to know, it’s like he is studying for a test, one he intends to get full marks for. Both of you are feeding into one another’s attraction and it feels premature and a little rushed but it is reciprocated.

In addition, Pete can’t stop staring at your legs. You had opted to wear a dress this morning, on purpose of course. He indirectly addresses his glances, not wanting you to feel as though he is being creepy about it.

“Do you always wear dresses?” He asks, breaking a train of thought on something entirely different.

“Special occasions.” You play.

“What’s so special about this occasion?” His demeanour had certainly shifted from the first day you met him. His elbow is draped over the back of the sofa and his stance is open and inviting, had it been a different situation you would have crawled into his lap and kissed him.

“Before you let it go to your head, I didn’t even know you’d be in today Parker.” You did, as did he.

“Ah so the target was our leading man, Mr J Johnson?”

“I wouldn’t say that. Honestly, it was more of an accident.”

A few hours pass and Tom walks out of his den and raises his eyebrows at Peter. He knows about the text message, you don’t, so the look is lost on you. The man you had spent the past few hours with seemed to switch up again when Tom was in the room.

“How about I walk you home?”

“It’s not exactly late.”

“Call it compensation for having to spend the afternoon with me instead of working on your project.”

“You really don’t have to.” You find yourself being sincere with him in that moment, instead of the sarcasm you have been responding with since you got there.

“I want to.” Seems the sincerity is flowing both ways.

“Okay.” You stand up and brush yourself down, suddenly feeling the tension rush to your head like alcohol.

Pete follows suit, pulling on a pair of scuffed up trainers before opening the door for you. “Always the gentleman.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes before checking his pockets for his keys. He shuts the door behind you and scampers closely after you.

“I just realised, I have no idea how far away you live and I could have just agreed to walk you nine miles across the city.”

“Lucky for you, it’s like, five minutes.” Pete stops himself from saying that that sounds like the opposite of lucky for him. It’s only five minutes to work up the courage to ask for your number.

When you reach your door, you turn to him and smile. You will him to ask you out, to kiss you. Something. He clears his throat.

“I have a…well there is an exhibition of some of the photographs I’ve taken, next week.” Your interest is piqued. “The exhibition is next week, not the photos I’ve taken, I already took those.” You try not to laugh at the way he fumbles his words. “I eh, thought you might want to come take a look at them with me next week?”

“Sure.” You don’t care about the date, time, or location. You want to be there.

“I, eh.” He didn’t think you would be so up for it. “You don’t have to commit now. I can’t remember the details so if I give you my number and you just shoot me a yes, or a no, or nothing at all,” he laughs nervously. “I’ll uh, get back to you with details. Or not.” He grins that lovely, lopsided grin and you have to stop yourself swooning on the spot. You will absolutely send him that text. You will undoubtedly be there.

You see Peter, standing where he said he would meet you, underneath the smallest oak tree at the edge of the University campus. He has two disposable coffee cups in his hands and a camera strap slung over his shoulder. He meets your eye as you are but ten steps from him and reaches out his hand to give you one of the cups.

“Latte, two sugars?”

“It’ll do.” You jest, taking it from him as you come to a stop.

“Thank you so much Pete, what would I ever do without you?” You giggle as you start walking again, towards the exhibition hall.

“Hey Pete,” He turns his attention towards you, the pair of you still moving forward. “I was chatting with James the other day, recapping the project,” You can see he is trying to predict where you are going with this, “and he said he told you guys he wouldn’t be back, that day you walked me home.” A smile dances across your eyes. “Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

“Oh, of course, damn. I must have forgotten.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. “An honest accident.”

“Ah, an accident.”

“You’re familiar with accidents.” You give a questioning look. “You know, what you said about wearing a dress the other day. Just like you are now.” He gestures to your outfit and winks. You’ve been caught red handed. “So is this an accident or a special occasion?”

#tasm #tasm!peter #peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #fluff #love #cute #spiderman #the amazing spiderman #fic #one shot #peter parker one shot #tasm! peter parker one shot #fem reader #no real warnings #tjwrites

524 notes · View notes

digital999placebo · 2 years ago

Note

This is out of the blue and I apologize but how do you think the nations act differently when they are drunk vs sober (if you don't mind me asking). Idk how to word this but like ... We see Germany as super serious but easy to bother usually but the one time we see him drink he's all :-D :-D :-D in that one photo. Meanwhile I'm pretty sure a drunk Italy would just be more chatty and flirty i.e. an exaggeration of his usual self.

i wanted 2 answer this with a drawing but ive had so little time 2 just sit down n draw lately so you get a wall of text. im sorry.

I do think Ludwig loosens up when he's drunk, loses the stick in his ass for once, n he's v easily entertained n physical touch becomes his number one love language when actual language fails him. He has learned from his past black out drunk mistakes to not speak so much bc he always says some unhinged shit that every1 remembers n brings up (nobody actually cares they only bring it up bc he gets so embarrassed over it), so the entire time he's drunk he's like "ok i only speak when necessary. the less words the better". And also he only really cuddles up to Feli when drunk, before he would do it to just anybody who didn't mind, but some night he put his head in Alice's lap n she braided his hair or whatever n Vene n Francoise wont stop bringing it up (again not that they care but its funny how embarrassed he gets) so yeah, he sticks to Feliciano now bc they're dating so it's easier to explain away. ALSO he’s the best dancer ever thanks to his extreme muscle control, he does the split on beat he can jump he can spin he can do it all, it’s an amazing sight to see.

Feliciano when drunk just wants to dance or fuck. He's either dragging his partner to the dance floor or to the toilet for a quick blowie, whichever is most convenient at that point. or he n Francoise lock themselves inside the bathroom n talk shit while fixing their hair or Francoise is touching up her makeup. Francoise n Feli tgether drunk is the loudest most obnoxious annoying thing ever, they talk loud and fast and with their hands n third parties can never ever keep up with their convo bc they switch subject all the time, n they go out to smoke like 15 times in one sentence. They’re like the *talks shit about a person for 2 hours* “but in the end….. if that’s what they wanna do then it’s like their body” “yeah we’re so open minded and nice” meme. Vene n Françoise r also like “I would literally eat u out if u asked<3” “omgggg<3 I would blow u if u asked<3”

Lovino is the drunk guy at the party sitting at the couch when he's not dancing, he's just trying to enjoy his buzz. He gets in fight with Gilbert over the aux cord.

Alice has never been at the perfect stage of drunkness, she always go above n beyond. Impressively tho she has never thrown up n she takes great pride in this. She’s not much for dancing but if Baxter Dury or some 90s britpop comes on?? She might…. she might…. she WILL

All ends with Ludwig having to carry home Lovino, Feliciano, Alice n Francoise.

Lukas, Matthias n Berwald r the type of drunks who leaves the group to go explore the neighbourhood or the city or just wherever they feel like. They go onto the subway and take whatever train comes first n just rides. They're also kinda like kids when drunk, in the aspect that if they're entirely quiet they're up 2 something they shouldnt b up to, and most likely Netherlands is there to watch the entire thing go down. Mattias is the annoying dude at a houseparty who goes through ur fridge n freeze; he'll start cooking shit at like 12pm n not even edible stuff. he just begins frying ur frozen hamburger patties in rum n coke, explaining why it's a superior dish that everyone should eat to Lukas, Berwald, n Lars (Netherlands). Berwald begins pouring leftover drinks into the frying pan to see what happens.

Berwald also teaches everyone the dirtiest pre-drink melodies (snapsvisor / shotvisor) ever n then mistranslates the lyrics like "uh yeah fitta means uh...... trees in swedish yeah its a song about nature" fitta means pussy smh

Gilbert is either traumadumping or screaming that he needs to queue EPIC songs for the dance floor, but they're all protestant psalms or like teutonic knights hymns. He's alone on the dance floor losing his shit to Psalm 148.

#PHEW LONG ANSWER IM SORRY #but thank uanon!!!!! v funny ask lmao i loved thinkin about it #asks #hetalia

35 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

Text

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

masterpost

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

226 notes · View notes

arrowflier · 3 years ago

Note

It’s canon that Ian always talks about Mickey with other ppl,for example:his siblings,Sue and some of his place holders,and he also share their sex life with them.So here’s my prompt:

Ian always shares too much information and his family/friends/coworkers complain about it in front of Mickey and he gets embarrassed and blushed.Thank you!

"Mickey," Joseph said as he wandered into the bar, "You have got to control your husband."

Mickey snorted, and slid a pint glass across the booth to him as he sat down on the opposite side.

"What's my better half done now?" he asked, taking a sip of his own beer. "He start showing clients pictures of his fucking garden again?"

"No," Joseph answered. "Otis is selling that special strain again soon, and Ian got...excited."

Mickey raised his eyebrows.

"No shit?" he asked. "The stuff he let us try out last time? I'd be excited too, man."

Joseph grimaced as Mickey took another drink.

"I know," he said glumly. "Ian said you made sounds that night he'd never heard before."

Mickey spewed beer onto the table.

"What?" he croaked out a second later, as Joseph frowned and shook beer and saliva off his hand.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Turns out he's real chatty when it comes to what you guys do in the sack."

Mickey's ears felt hot.

"That fucker," he muttered under his breath.

Joseph's lips twisted, and he took a long drink.

"Apparently," he said after he swallowed. "He mentioned that as well."

Mickey gaped at him from across the table, at a complete loss for words. He knew Ian had poor boundaries sometimes, but this...

"Everything good here, guys?" Carl asked, approaching their booth. He wiped his hands on his apron, already stained even though the Alibi had only been open for an hour.

"No," Mickey answered, finding his voice. "I'm going to murder your brother."

"Yeah? What's he done now?" Carl asked, sounding completely unconcerned.

"Nothing," Mickey gritted out. "Just told our clients about our fucking sex life."

"And your employee," Joseph added morosely. "For at least the third time this week."

Carl just laughed, and slapped Joseph on the shoulder.

"Welcome to the club, dude," he said. "The only thing worse than hearing them go at it back when they lived with us was listening to my brother retell the highlights."

Mickey closed his eyes rather than look either of them in the face. His cheeks were warm now, too, and he hadn't had nearly enough alcohol to warrant it.

"Please tell me," he begged, "that you never fucking listened when he talked."

When he opened his eyes again, they were both just staring at him, and he groaned, and slid out from the booth.

"Gonna kill that loose-lipped fucker," Mickey complained, grabbing his jacket on his way to the door.

"Funny," Carl called after him, "He always said you liked his mouth!"

Mickey flipped Carl off with both hands, and wondered if the kitchen grill was working. If not, they could, he was sure the back of his burning neck was hot enough to cook on.

#daily speedwrite #mickey milkovich #carl gallagher #gallavich #fanfic #silly and random #got a tension headache from dealing with terrible drivers today so kept it short

126 notes · View notes

hartigays · 3 years ago

Note

Rafebarry from the POV of outsiders like the pouges and kooks who notice their relationship develop<3

doing this one out of order bc it called to me <3 the following povs include: jj, pope, kie, topper, and sarah!

side/minor pairings are jjpope and sarahkie

fic under the cut :-)

the sun is hot on jj’s forehead as he sits in the passenger’s seat of luke’s truck, idling in front of barry’s trailer.

he hates these days. it’s never been jj’s favorite activity, coming along with his dad while he buys drugs with money they should be spending on food.

not to mention, it takes for-fucking-ever. luke tends to get real chatty after his first high of the day, and barry is the type of dealer who’s always just fucked up enough to allow it.

today, however, jj’s forehead is only mildly burnt when luke exits the trailer.

actually, he’s being ushered out by barry, who looks irritated in a way that jj has never seen before. though, to be fair, the only times jj has been around him are when barry’s high or when they’re trying to mutually kick each other’s asses.

luke is grumbling to himself as he climbs into the driver’s seat, fumbling with his keys. obviously already fucked up.

jj eyes him warily, before flickering his gaze back towards the trailer. he’s only a little surprised to see rafe cameron suddenly standing in the doorway with barry, looking like they’re arguing about something.

okay, maybe jj is a lot surprised to see the scene playing out before him. because despite the seemingly heated tone of their conversation, barry has a hand resting on one of rafe’s elbows. it’s almost a tender gesture, and jj has to look away, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something.

barry touches rafe the way jj touches pope. and that’s… that’s a bit much to take in, to be honest. because jj sure as hell doesn’t touch pope the way friends are technically supposed to touch each other.

it’s an information overload, and he has no idea what to do with it. jj decides to file the racing thoughts away for later, when he inevitably spills his guts to pope about just exactly what he’s seen at barry’s today.

luke finally gets the truck started, pulling off of barry’s property without even noticing the moment unfolding before them.

jj takes one last look at rafe and barry, crowded in the doorway of the trailer while looking at each other like everything around them has fallen away, like it’s just the two of them left in the world.

interesting.

pope

it’s a sunday afternoon when they come in.

they’re arguing about something, barry looking thrilled by it whereas rafe just looks like he wants to smash his head through the nearest window.

“you ain’t really fished, country club,” pope hears barry saying when they’re close enough, “not til’ you caught a gator.”

pope suppresses a snort. there isn’t a soul in the OBX who’s caught a gator and didn’t come away with a chunk of themselves missing, and typically always empty-handed.

not like he’s going to tell two dickheads like barry or rafe that. if they want to go get chomped to bits by alligators, by all means.

pope is curious about the nature of their relationship, though. it’s interesting, and interesting things never cease to draw him in. (see: jj maybank).

jj had mentioned a few days ago that barry and rafe have seemed… different, recently. ever since then, pope has wondered about it. it’s a curious relationship, so he doesn’t think it’s that weird that he’s been desperately trying to understand it from all angles.

pope also just wants to know if jj is right. if barry and rafe really do have a thing going on. because like he’d told jj, he’ll believe it when he sees it.

it’s not like jj needs to know that he’s been secretly agonizing over it for absolutely no reason for the last three days.

pope stays seated quietly behind the counter, casually flipping through a magazine without really reading it, glancing up every now and then to spy on barry and rafe.

they’re standing by the bait selection, quietly conversing back and forth. pope can’t make out what they’re saying, but based on their expressions, they’re probably just talking about bait.

that is, until rafe passes barry a certain kind of bait with a questioning glance, and barry accepts it with a proud smile. rafe’s cheeks turn bright pink, and when their fingers brush as rafe passes off the bait, his face takes on a nearly scarlet hue.

so, okay, yeah. jj was definitely on the mark. it still makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever, but at the same time, they seem to operate in sync. it’s almost natural, whatever flows between them.

pope watches them walk up to the counter, feigning wariness to hide his curiosity, internally noting that he has a lot of homework to do later.

kie

the wreck is unusually slow tonight. it’s a thursday evening, and usually more patrons show up, pre-gaming their friday night bash with a thursday kickoff.

there are only three families and a few scattered couples seated here and there.

that is, until they walk in.

kie can’t really say that she hasn’t been expecting this. she wishes she could say that, to be quite honest, but jj and pope have made it their personal mission to torment her with information about barry and rafe that she truly never needed or wanted to know.

not that they’re more than likely gay as hell - kiara doesn’t care about that. she’d be a bit of a hypocrite if she did, if she’s being honest. it’s the fact that they’re rafe and barry.

two people who’s fates the cosmos should never have aligned. if what pope and jj say is true, anyway.

somehow, kie hasn’t come up with any reason to doubt it. rafe is crazy, barry is pure chaos in physical form. she imagines they’re like a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but she also sees how it works.

kie really, really hates that she can see how it works.

there’s another waitress working tonight, and she’s the one to seat the couple. or pair. or whatever they are. kie can’t remember her name - she’s only here for the summer, anyway. nevertheless, she has the inexplicable desire to drag the poor girl away when she attempts to flirt with rafe.

not only because rafe is liable to stab her in a parking lot or something, but also because rafe and barry are clearly on some sort of date.

she doesn’t know why, but after the waitress finally walks away, kiara keeps waiting on bated breath for more people to show up and join rafe and barry’s party. despite the fact that they’ve been seated at a table for two.

no one else shows up.

they spend the evening conversing quietly back and forth, their voices occasionally raising when they get into a little spat about something.

which happens about every ten seconds, if kie has been accurately keeping track.

not that she’s watching them, necessarily. it’s just a bit of a shock, seeing what jj and pope have been telling her for days play out right in front of her, in real time.

they don’t operate like the other couples in the restaurant, that’s for sure. or any sort of couple kie has ever seen before in her entire life. but pope was right, whatever flows between them is freakishly natural.

and that’s why kiara can’t stop watching. she can’t stop honing in on every movement - the way they steadily shift closer throughout the evening, first putting their elbows on the quaint table, scooting them closer and closer until they’re nearly touching, leaning into each other like they’re being pulled together by some magnetic force, unable to stay apart.

it’s like when kie knocks on sarah’s window and watches her come close, pressing into the glass as if she’s being sucked in by some invisible force, the same one that drives sarah across the room towards her, pulling her into her orbit.

kiara shakes her head, trying to shake off the thoughts. she really doesn’t need to be going around equating her relationship with sarah with whatever the fuck is going on between rafe and barry.

whatever it is, though, kie can’t help but note that it’s something light rather than dark. something almost like happiness - something she never actually thought rafe was capable of feeling.

but with the way rafe is looking at barry, their hands now linked together beneath the table where they think no one else can see, kie is starting to rethink just about everything she knows about rafe cameron.

well, maybe not everything. but some things. enough that her head will be full for the foreseeable future. all because of barry and rafe fucking cameron of all people.

what the fuck.

topper

“you’ve been gone for like, weeks, dude,” topper says, eyeing rafe from across the table.

they’re at the figure eight country club, having drinks (on topper, of course) and a light lunch. it’d been topper’s idea. rafe had merely reluctantly agreed, claiming he had nothing else going on today.

he’d sounded almost like he was pouting about something. now that he’s seated across from topper, he can clearly see that rafe is definitely pouting about something.

which isn’t unusual, per se. but it is unusual that rafe isn’t bitching about whatever it is.

to be fair, rafe has been different these days. topper doesn’t really know what’s going on with him at all, their lives having suddenly and unexpectedly diverged for reasons topper still doesn’t understand.

it’s not like rafe was his best friend or anything - the guy’s a dick more often than not. but they had been friends at least, and confided in one another from time to time. guy to guy.

topper still wonders what happened, to this day. he doesn’t think rafe will ever tell him, though. not fully. and that’s okay, topper isn’t, like, desperately interested or anything, but a bit of an explanation would be nice. even a half-assed one.

“i’ve had shit going on,” rafe finally answers, as vague as can be.

topper rolls his eyes. “obviously. come on, man. i just want to know what’s been up with you lately.”

“you mean you want to know what’s been up with sarah,” rafe corrects, taking a long sip of his beer.

and okay, yeah, maybe topper’s desire to get back in touch with rafe has a little something to do with wanting to know what sarah’s been up to. but he does want to know whats been going on with rafe, too. that wasn’t a lie. he’d just omitted some details, sue him.

“yeah, okay,” topper agrees, not bothering with lying. “but i’ve also been wondering about you, man. you just kinda. disappeared.”

rafe picks at his burger, before pushing it away with a sigh. “shit happens, top.”

it’s so far from an explanation that topper kind of wants to throttle him all of a sudden, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance. his phone starts ringing, and he pulls it out with a triumphant smile, like he’s just won something.

something he’s definitely very, very smug about.

topper thinks he hears something along the lines of ‘m fuckin’ outside you little shithead brat coming from the person on the other end of the line.

rafe just smiles wider, putting on an innocent look even though whoever he’s talking to can’t see him. “coming!”

listen. listen. rafe fucking sing-songs it. topper feels like he’s been punched directly in the solar plexus. his mind reels.

topper is nowhere close to catching up, but rafe is already standing up and excusing himself, saying he has somewhere to be and thanking topper for the lunch half-heartedly, not contributing anything towards the bill.

typical rafe.

topper latches onto that familiarity to get his brain working again, shoving himself back from the table and racing out of the club, tossing a few too many bills on the table as he runs out. he practically chases rafe down, tumbling out the front doors as rafe is crossing the parking lot.

rafe comes to a stop next to some guy on a motorcycle, and neither of them have seen topper yet, clearly. because in the next moment rafe is pulling off the guy’s helmet and kissing barry the fucking coke dealer right on the mouth, tongue and all.

topper almost blacks out on the steps.

instead, he steadies himself on the railing of the staircase, shouting across the parking lot, “what the fuck, rafe?”

the reaction topper gets is not the one he was expecting. rafe just grins like a shark, then climbs on the back of barry’s bike. he wraps his arms around barry’s waist, then he taps barry twice, and they’re speeding out of the parking lot.

“we are so fucking talking about this!” topper yells after them, his head still spinning.

the roar of the motorcycle drowns out the noise.

sarah

she isn’t sure what wakes her up at first.

for a moment, sarah thinks kie is at her window. she frowns in confusion, still half-asleep, wondering why kie would be here without texting or calling first.

they always text or call first.

when sarah sits up and looks over at her window, there’s nothing there. but she knows she heard something, something that roused her from her peaceful slumber.

there it is again. it sounds like a squeaking noise, like an old window or a screen door opening. a moment later, quiet voices, drifting through the vent in her bedroom.

sarah wonders if it’s ward, if he’s having some secret meeting that would be truly invaluable to overhear.

she scrambles out of bed, tip-toeing to her air vent and sinking down to her knees. she leans closer, then closer still. all she can here are soft voices - she can’t make out any words. whatever the conversation is about, it’s interspersed with giggles and gasps.

oh. oh my god. ward is cheating, he has to be. and wouldn’t that be such sweet justice? catching ward in the act of something he can’t deny? something that could potentially keep rose from continuing to feed his endless greed?

sarah stands up and races across her room as quietly as she can, poking her head out the door and looking around before creeping into the hallway. she quietly makes her way to ward’s office, stopping just outside and leaning close to listen.

silence.

if they’re done already, that’s pretty pathetic on ward’s part, sarah thinks. but then she hears it again, the soft cacophony of sounds, only louder this time.

sarah follows the noise, her curiosity getting to the better of her. it leads her straight to rafe’s bedroom.

she really should’ve known better than to open the door.

“oh my god! oh my god? oh my god.” sarah slaps her hands over her eyes, already trying to scrub the image of barry on top of her brother from her mind.

she just walked in on rafe. having sex. with barry.

sarah feels a little faint.

“jesus christ, sarah, would you get the fuck out?” sarah hears rafe snap, and she fumbles for the doorknob, slamming the door shut quickly.

she backs away in horror, practically bolting back to her room and flinging herself onto her bed. sarah grabs her phone, firing off a few texts to the group chat.

sarah: SOS!!! walked in on barry and rafe…

sarah: oh god

sarah: i can’t even say it

jj: were they? y’know

jj: like

jj: brokeback mountain style or

pope: jesus christ jj

pope: that’s disgusting

pope: ………

pope: but for real though were they?

john b: i’d also like to know

kie: you know what count me in too

sarah: oh my god.

sarah: i hate all of you.

sarah has the most useless friends on the planet, and the drug dealer is fucking her brother. frankly, she’s had enough for one night.

sarah tosses her phone onto the floor and puts a pillow over her face, drifting back into her blissful state of unconsciousness. she’s not awake to hear rafe and barry start up again.

thank fucking god for small mercies.

#rafebarry #outer banks #pov alternating #anyway i’m really proud of this one soooo i hope u enjoy!!!#mwah thank u for requesting 💓#my fics #ask #anon

88 notes · View notes

romyowusu · 2 years ago

Text

task three. ↳ get to know you, (but through cursed uquizzes)

gif credt in the source

which member of the mystery gang are you daphne you're slaying, you're serving, you're girlbossing, etc.

what type of timeless space are you the week between Christmas and New Year You have eaten well and been merry. You are surrounded by gifts from your loved ones. People come and go from your house. Calories don't count here. You don't brush your hair here. Children live here, in this space. Imagination is the key to the passage of this week. You're in your pajamas. It's Tuesday, or Wednesday, you check the calendar, it says Date Currently Not Available, Please Try Again Later. The present rolled from your hand, you dropped it, it's somewhere under the fridge but you can't quite reach it. The future looks on, eager for its time to play. You've worked hard this year. You've made it: it's happening again. This week is for you, not for Time. Time is on Holiday. Eat, drink, and be Proud for making it this far.

which unhinged female character are you Needy Lesnicki (Jennifer's Body) you're a little bit too sensitive and probably cry a lot. you became unhinged after years and years of trying to keep it together, but everybody else's bullshit just got to be too much. you're not afraid to get creative when it comes to keeping yourself safe, and you have a habit of pining after the wrong people. i love u though <3

what frog are you silly fella woah dude… ur rlly shiny. interesting nose u got there. u definitely look like you’d tell killer jokes tho. rock on little man

how will you kill god god thought you were so annoying he killed himself impressive. admirable. i love your work. which gay shakespeare character are you beatrice (much ado about nothing) congratulations!!! you're the coolest person on this list. you're a bisexual spitfire who loves/tolerates one (1) man. you'll always stick up for your gal pals and you will wear a tux to prom and look hot as hell in it. you're smart and a little stubborn and you come up with the SICKEST burns. what is your inner stuffed toy knitted mouse you're talkative and intelligent, a chatty friend who people feel like they could talk to for hours! you make an amazing friend and always manage to say the smartest things. people admire you for your wit and quick mind!

if you were a witch from pseudo-medieval times, which animal would be your familiar Fox Foxes can be real tricksters! They like to crack jokes, and they tell stories that leave you asking questions they only ever answer cryptically. Underneath all that cleverness though, foxes are brave and industrious. They’re good at thinking on their feet. A fox would have bonded with you because you're willing to put real effort into projects and you persevere when things get difficult. You're also creative, experimental-- you enjoy trying new things and taking some risks. And perhaps most importantly, you also have a good sense of humor, which a fox values in all their friends. Together, the two of you are some of the most famed prophets of your age. Are your prophecies always intelligible? Who’s to say. What riddle is a riddle if it’s clear?

choose some spooky things and i’ll tell you what cryptid you are fresno nightcrawler

how would you be perceived if you were a fictional character hot antagonist that everyone makes edits of i know they murdered innocent people... but look at that smile (character egs - klaus mikkaelson, tom riddle, loki, crane)

#phantasm.task

5 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #ironstrange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

puckinghell · 4 years ago

Text

Why (Won’t You Love Me) | Elias Pettersson

Summary: Time and time again, Elias watches you get your heart broken by guys who aren’t worth your effort, and he just can’t help but wonder why you can’t love him instead. Words: 3,5k Note: Based on the 5sos song with the same name.

There’s a glow on the pavement, fresh from the rain. Dark clouds are still packed together in the sky when they arrive at the plane, but the rain is mere drizzle now, and Elias doesn’t bother with an umbrella as he hauls his bag over his shoulder.

Brock, of course, has the hood of his jumper pulled tight around his face, and he looks absolutely miserable. Normally Elias would tease him – probably something about his hair – but today he’s not in the mood.

He’s pretty miserable himself.

“Petey, hey.” Brock runs to catch up to him, as they approach the plane. Elias should’ve known Brock would notice: his best friend always seems to know when he shouldn’t be alone. “What’s up, dude?”

Elias huffs out an indignant sound that’s not resembling any English words, and not really any Swedish ones, either. He pulls his eyebrows together in a frown and makes a frustration motion with his hand.

“Y/N…” he says, your name falling off his lips a little rough. “She’s having guy trouble.”

“Ah,” Brock says, like he understands. He probably does.

It’s not the first time Elias is in a mood because of your ‘guy trouble’.

Now it’s not really fair to you, he knows that. You’re not actually aware of the fact that you’re hurting him, by talking about other guys, so he can’t hold it against you.

It’s just…

“Why won’t she love me?” he finally says, as they stand in front of the stairs to the plane, waiting for the others to go in first.

There’s no use pretending, not with Brock. Brock knows him better than anyone and he knows how far gone for you Elias is, how much it hurts that you don’t feel the same way.

Brock shrugs. “She loves you,” he says, but he doesn’t sound quite so sure.

“Not like that.” Elias can’t help sounding a little mopey, and Brock slaps his hard across the back to show his support, in the way that bros do, sometimes.

“Sorry, man,” he says, and he sounds genuinely remorseful.

Elias met you right after he arrived in Vancouver, and he knows it’s cliché to say, but he immediately knew that you were it for him. You made him laugh with some snarky remark at a rude customer in the coffee shop, and that was it. He was sold.

It’s not become anything but friendship, though. And sure, it’s a friendship Elias holds dear to his heart, but he’s not afraid to admit he’s always wanted it to be more. It’s just, he’s never been able to find the words to tell you that.

In the beginning, he blamed his lack of English, but now he knows it’s just you.

You render him speechless. When you look at him with bright eyes, when you say his name. And whenever he thinks about telling you, and thinks about the look of pity on your face and how you would say “Elias…” like you’re the bearer of bad news, he feels like his throat has swollen to the point where talking is impossible.

So he says nothing. But he hates himself for it, every time you sit on his couch and tell him about your failed dating endeavours.

He sits down and takes his phone, to put it on airplane mode. Brock is humming under his breath next to him, and it’s distracting enough that he nearly misses the text notification.

Nearly, but not quite.

Sorry for crying on your shoulder again the text reads.

Elias thinks back to last night, when you’d showed up at his apartment, nearly in tears because the guy you’d gone on a few dates with had cancelled your date and said he’d rather be friends.

“When they say that, they never actually wanna be friends, Petey,” you’d sighed, your bottom lip trembling.

And he’d pulled you inside, parked you on the couch and made you tea, and then you’d watched MasterChef together, your body curled into his, until you weren’t so sad anymore.

He always tried everything to stop you from being sad, and he usually succeeded, too. Taking care of you is one of the things he’s best at, in his opinion.

“I guess finding a decent guy to love around here is just too much to ask,” you’d said, after at least an hour of comfortable silence. “Well, at least I’ve got you, right?”

And Elias had to bite his lip so hard he can still feel where it’s sore, only to stop himself from asking:

Why won’t you love me, instead?

He stares at your text now. Behind it, his background is still visible: a picture of him and you, that he likes to look at when the road is a little too lonely.

“You gotta turn it off, Pete,” Brock says, and that’s when Elias notices the plane is already about to take off.

He quickly texts back “No worries” and switches his phone to airplane mode. The glass of the little round window is cold against his cheek when he leans against it.

It’s gonna be a long road trip.

The bar isn’t busy, but there’s a constant hum of chatter around you, and you try to use that to quiet your mind.

It doesn’t really work.

You’re a few drinks in, and there’s tears burning behind your eyes.

Normally, you would’ve called Elias. But now you don’t feel like you should, anymore.

Elias has been different, since he got back from what felt like the longest road trip in history. He’s been dodging your calls, not texting as much, and you have only seen him once since he got back a week ago, which is not normal for you two.

If you knew why he’s been avoiding you, you could fix it.

But you have no idea.

“Excuse me, can I borrow this chair?” a voice asks. A girl has her hand on the empty chair opposite you, and she smiles at you when you look up.

You open your mouth: something inside of you says no, but you know that’s ridiculous. This is a table for one, tonight.

“Sure.”

It’s not like that guy is gonna show up three hours after he was supposed to.

It’s not your supposed-to-be-date, that you’re thinking about though. Maybe you should be sad about him, because he just stood you up, but instead you’re thinking back to the last time you saw Elias, when he’d just come back. They had won two out of three road games, so he’d been in a good mood, and when you went to his house for pizza and Netflix he’d been chatty and filled with laughter all evening.

His good mood dimmed, when you mentioned you had a date planned.

“Do you know this guy?” he’d asked, and there was a hint of judgement in his voice that instantly got you defensive.

“No, my friend set us up,” you said. “But it’s not like I have a choice, Elias. Time is slipping away from me, and I can’t just sit here and wait for the love of my life to show up while everyone is getting married. It’s no fun being lonely.”

“No,” Elias had said, a strange look on his face. “It’s not fun.”

You would’ve asked him what he meant by that – surely he wasn’t lonely, being Elias Pettersson in Vancouver – but there was something about him that stopped you.

For the first time since you met him, it felt like there was a wall up between you, and it felt like for every stone the wall was made off there was a matching stone in the pit of your stomach.

It felt like you did something wrong, but you can’t put your finger on what. You hadn’t lied to him, although it hadn’t quite been the full truth either. You can’t tell him the full truth, because the full truth is too pathetic.

The full truth, of course, being that when your other best friend Liza got engaged, you realized that everyone had someone, except for you. You just had Elias, and that has always been enough: until you sat there staring at the giant diamond on Liza’s finger and realized that Elias was never going to feel that way about you.

He’s your best friend, and although you’d want him to be everything, if he was interested in more, he would’ve done something by now. And so you decided you had to stop waiting for someone who would never love you like that, and find someone who would.

You haven’t found that person, yet, and you haven’t gotten over Elias either.

You look at your phone now. It’s 2am, and you probably shouldn’t call him, but…

But it’s Elias. He’s your best friend and you know he cares for you, even if he is mad about something.

You just got stood up, and it’s late, and you’ve had a bit too much to drink, and you don’t really want to have to walk yourself home…

“You can always call me if you need anything,” Elias said all the time. “Even in the middle of the night.”

So you call him.

There’s no answer. There’s no answer the next time, or the next, either.

You throw some money on the table. It’s time to take yourself home: after all, you’ve always been able to take care of yourself. There’s no reason for this burning feeling behind your eyes.

He’s just a friend.

The next morning, there’s two texts waiting for you when you wake up.

3 missed calls? Everything OK?

Sorry I missed them. Have to go to practice now, talk later.

There’s no smileys, no familiar XO’s that Elias has been using since Brock forced him to watch Gossip Girl, no love you at the end.

So that’s how you know something is really wrong.

Creating some distance between you is harder than Elias had thought.

“She hates me,” he grumbles. It’s probably not the right time to do this, in the middle of practice, but he’s been distracted and since this is all Brock’s fault, he figures he should just say that.

“She doesn’t,” Brock says. “Also, how is this my fault?”

Elias leans on his stick. They’re both waiting until it’s their turn to do the drill. Jake skates past, shoots on Marky. Scores.

“You said I needed some distance. You said to put my phone on airplane mode every now and then. Last night she called me three times and I didn’t answer, and now she hates me.”

Brock rolls his eyes, ever so slightly: but enough for Elias to see, and he glares at his best friend.

He feels a little vindicated when Brock flushes red and shuffles a little away from Elias.

“Look, bud, I said that because you’ve been miserable.” Brock’s face is gentle. “But since this is clearly not working, have you thought about just talking to her?”

He has thought about that. A lot.

“Absolutely not,” Elias says. “She’s not interested in me, she’s made that clear by dating half of Vancouver.”

Brock laughs. “I didn’t know Vancouver had 6 people living in it.”

“Shut up.” But there’s no heat behind it, and Brock shuffles closer again.

“Petey.” He sounds remorseful. “You haven’t scored even once today. And Marky’s not even trying. You need to fix this.”

At that moment, his name gets called, so Elias shoves Brock aside and skates up to the puck, taking it with him towards the goal.

He shoots wide.

Fuck. Maybe he does have to do something about this.

Elias may have decided he needs to talk to you, but he sure as hell doesn’t have to do it right now. He’s allowed to go home and get changed first, because he’s not going to confess his love and get his heart broken while wearing a Canucks tracksuit.

Unfortunately, it ends up not really being his choice, because when he walks into the hallway of his apartment you’re sitting on the floor, leaning against his front door.

Elias stops dead at the end of the hallway.

You’re doing something on your phone, not noticing him right away. You look tired, and your hair is a mess, and it squeezes something in Elias’ heart.

You look… kinda like shit, and whereas Elias knows he probably doesn’t look much better himself, it’s worse when it’s you.

Suddenly, guilt washes over him like a tidal wave. You needed him last night, and he wasn’t there for you. It was 2 am when you called him: you could’ve been anywhere, anything could’ve happened, you could’ve gotten hurt.

Suddenly he’s walking, faster and faster, until he reaches you.

You look up, and when you see him, there’s a small smile curling at the edge of your lips. But you don’t look happy, and Elias’ worry only intensifies.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out his hand. You let him help you pull you to your feet, but then you drop his hand right away.

It stings.

“Can I come in?” you ask. Your voice is small and you’re fretting with the edge of your shirt.

“Of course.” Elias opens the door, lets you walk in first. Normally, you would kick off your shoes at the door and throw yourself on his couch, or immediately dive head first into his fridge. You don’t do that now, and it’s wrong: everything feels wrong, and Elias hates it.

If he could make it go back to the way it was, he would do anything for it to stay that way. He would ignore his feelings, he would push them away. He would answer the phone.

He wouldn’t hurt you like this.

“Are you okay?” he blurts out. He regrets it instantly, because your face falls even more.

He should’ve eased into it. He should’ve let you say what you came to say, first.

“I’m so sorry for not answering the phone,” he continues, helplessly, because you’re not saying anything and the silence is too much for him to take. “I put my phone on airplane mode and I shouldn’t have done that, you needed me and I should’ve been there for you and…”

“Elias.” Your voice is soft, but stern. Your hand reaches out, fingers curling around his wrist. “Calm down. I’m fine, nothing happened last night.”

Something heavy dissolves in the pit of Elias’ stomach, and for the first time that day, he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m just…” you pause, sigh. Then you stand a little taller, something determined settling over your features. “I just want to know what I did wrong.”

“Huh?” Elias can imagine he must be staring at you pretty blankly, but he truly just doesn’t get it. “What you did wrong?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t play dumb. I know you’re mad at me. So tell me what I did wrong, so I can fix it.”

Elias can feel it: the energy shifting in the room. There’s something harsh in your eyes, and he knows you came here looking for resolve as much as you came here looking for a fight.

Fighting, he figures, is a way to feel things, too. But he’s not about to let you do that to yourself, especially when it’s his fault.

“Y/N,” he says, softly, and then he shakes his wrist out of your grip and takes your hand in his, instead. Your hand is cold, skin soft, and he immediately decides he wants to hold your hand for the rest of his life. “Come sit with me.”

You let him lead you to the couch, and sit down next to him, body turned away from his.

Once again, you’re sitting on his couch, on the verge of tears. But it’s different, this time. You’re not crying over guys that aren’t worth your time, you’re crying over him, over Elias, and he has to fix this one even more than he did all the other times.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Elias starts. This time, you don’t fight him on it. “It’s me, actually. I think I did something wrong.”

You look up. There’s a hint of fear in your eyes when you ask: “What?”

Elias sighs. It’s hard, to get out the words, even harder than he was worried about. He doesn’t know what to say, how to say it, or how to make you understand.

“I made a mistake,” he says, carefully. “I thought I needed some time away from you, but that wasn’t right.”

“Away from me?” The look of hurt on your face doesn’t pass by Elias. “Why?”

“Why?” Elias repeats. “Because it’s too hard sometimes. It’s too hard to hear you talking about all these guys you’re dating, and how they always hurt or disappoint you.”

Your eyes are fixed on the floor. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” you mutter.

“You’re not, that’s not what I meant.” Elias takes another breath. There’s something about the way you’re sitting here, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around yourself, that gives him the courage to say: “You talk about them, but you always come back to me.”

You look up at him, eyes swimming with questions.

“Whatever guy you’re with, no matter how lonely you say you are, how many dates you go on; you always end up coming back here, to hang out on my couch. Why?”

“I mean,” you start, then stop yourself.

Are you really gonna tell him?

You think back to months ago, when Liza had asked you to picture your perfect guy.

“I can’t set you up if I don’t know what you want,” she’d said. “So, close your eyes, and picture yourself happy, in the future. You’ve got a house, and a dog, and a job. You’ve got a partner. What do you picture when you think of the partner?”

Elias.

You hadn’t said it, you’d said something about blond hair and kind eyes and someone who always makes you laugh, but you’re not dumb enough to deny that it was Elias that you were describing to her. That you pictured, when you closed your eyes, an alternate reality in which Elias was yours and you were his.

But you clearly can’t say that to Elias, because he’s not interested in you like this, and you don’t want to ruin this friendship. Not when it means the most to you.

You’d give anything to be able to hold onto Elias, and have him hold onto you.

So you say nothing, just stare at Elias’ hand, which has come to rest on your thigh. His fingers are long, slender, and you miss the feeling of them tangled with your own. You wonder if you could get away with grabbing his hand, every now and then, just as friends.

“Y/N,” Elias repeats, and this time he sounds a little desperate. “You’re always saying you’re lonely, and you want someone to love you, and you need a decent guy, and I don’t know what you’re waiting for but…”

I’m waiting for you, you think.

“But I’m right here.” Elias sits up a little straighter. There’s determination in his eyes, a quiet conviction that he usually reserves for hockey. “I’m right here, and I’m a decent guy, and I love you, so why won’t you love me?”

Time freezes.

You’re pretty sure if Elias had a clock you could look at, you’d find the hands of the clock not moving. If you looked outside, the cars would be stationary, the birds would be frozen in the air.

But Elias isn’t frozen. He’s somehow closer than he was before, and he’s moving closer, still.

“Stop me,” he whispers. “Stop me if you don’t want…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

Doesn’t have to, really.

Because there’s a million things running through your mind, things like because I’m scared and he loves me and we’ve wasted so much time but at the end of the day they all lead to one single conclusion.

It’s him. It’s always been him.

So you launch forward, crash your lips against his in a feverish desperation to finally, finally make it right. He moves back from the force of it, but then his arms are wrapped around you and he’s pulling you closer, into his lap.

He slows down the kiss, softens it. The way he kisses you has your toes curling in your shoes, your heart beating in your throat, because he kisses you like no one has ever really kissed you before.

He kisses you like he loves you.

When you pull away, gasping for air, Elias’ eyes are soft when they lock with yours.

“Yeah?” he asks, and it’s hesitant, careful, like he’s still waiting for you to close the metaphorical door in his face, to take his heart and break it in two.

“I thought it wasn’t possible,” you admit. “I thought you would never want this.”

“Always,” Elias mumbles, and he leans a bit closer, presses a kiss against your jaw. “I’ve always wanted this.”

Always. He’s always wanted this and you were both too dumb to see it, both too dumb to connect the dots. You can’t believe you lost so much time, and you can’t believe it took so long.

Why did it take so long?

“Why didn’t I…” you start, but Elias cuts you off, kissing you once more. Gentle and short, this time, but still just as loving.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “What matters is that I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, allow yourself to press your lips to his collarbone.

Maybe the why, or the how, or the when, doesn’t really matter in the end. Maybe it’s about the happy ever after.

And you think you found that, now.

#elias pettersson #vancouver canucks fic #nhl fic #elias pettersson fic #elias petterson one shot #elias pettersson imagine

314 notes · View notes