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undermattsun-archive · 4 years ago

Text

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii + @sugardaddykenma for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on.

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest.

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course.

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost.

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone.

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes.

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward.

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort.

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him.

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck.

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door. You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat.

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him.

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine.

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you.

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut.

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit.

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.”

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air.

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you.

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back.

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?”

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin.

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you.

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.”

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt.

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.”

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man.

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

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novamirmirsblog · 3 years ago

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Mission gone right

Hi guysss. This is 18+ ty :3

Word count: 1596

Genre: Smut, kinda dark? R is bad basically

Request: no

Warnings: Wanda sex magic, swearing, alcohol (think that's it)

A/N: we got votes for both angst and smut so I kinda combined both? I feel like this isn't angsty enough so imma write something super angsty next. Then I'll go back and do some more spidey duo xxx

"What to do, what to do, what to do..." You paced back and forth around your living room. "Ugh!" throwing your hands up in the air, you flopped down on the sofa, leaving your legs dangling over the arm. Switching on the TV, you saw that there was a new display at an art gallery. You looked around your walls and saw nothing as pretty as the painting on the TV.

"I guess one more couldn't hurt..."

The TV then changed to show that the Avengers were making a special appearance considering Tony Stark owned the gallery and it was it's opening night.

With newfound determination, you got dressed in a red dress with a neckline that dropped all the way to just above your navel and a slit that went all the way up to the middle of your left thigh. The dress gave you the freedom to move but still looked like it was just something pretty to wear. You grabbed your clutch (because god forbid a woman has pockets) and headed out.

~~~~~

Soft music played as people with more money than sense wandered around the gallery. Women wore pearls loosely and men had watches just begging to be taken. You had to focus. You were there for one reason and one reason only. The oil painting apparently cost millions. You didn't really care about that - it was a nice touch, sure - but not the reason you wanted it. You told yourself it was because it was a pretty picture but maybe it was more to do with the fact a pretty mindreader was going to be there tonight.

So far, you had done well to avoid the guards and cameras. You had stolen from this place a few times before and you knew that they rarely changed their security because you had cameras on them. You had seen a few of 'Earth's mightiest heroes' and had tried to ignore the disappointment you felt when it wasn't Wanda.

It's not like the two of you had history, but you were at HYDRA when the twins were too. You were a failed experiment. Your powers were useful, but not useful enough. They also took a little time to form. Time that Strucker didn't want to waste. You, Wanda and Pietro spent about a year together before they went to the 'good side' and you delved deeper into what your powers could do for you. You'd think that HYDRA would love the fact you could convince people of anything and erase all traces that you had ever been somewhere, but apparently they weren't looking for spies, they had enough of those.

You strolled around until you made it to the bathroom, waiting there for the rest of the evening. You had everything planned, walk up to the picture, take it from it's frame and leave out the front door. Everything was going according to plan until you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey! What are you doing there!" You opened your mouth to speak but you were grabbed and dragged round the corner and into a storage room.

It was Wanda.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Wanda whisper shouted as guards jogged past our hiding place.

"Same as you apparently." You realised Wanda hadn't noticed how close the two of you were, cupoards were very small...

"You just fucked up my night out."

"Sorry darling, at least my night is going splendidly." You winked and leaned in closer, watching as the anger transformed to lust on her face.

You were taller than Wanda by maybe half a head so she had to look up at you as she tried to formulate a reason to get out of there. Technically, she didn't even have to be there. She could walk out right now and the guards wouldn't even bat an eye and yet something was making her stay.

You moved slightly and Wanda groaned ever so faintly. It was so quiet that you would have missed it if you hadn't been so close to her. You then realised that your leg was conveniently placed between Wanda's, and what can you say? The storage cupboard was small. It wasn't your fault.

Okay, it was maybe a little bit your fault.

"Oh darling, has no one been taking care of you?" You mocked, leaning in and whispering over the shell of her ear "Want me to take care of that?"

Wanda froze even more. Her mind was racing so fast that there was no possible way for her to read yours even though she was desperate to do so. She hadn't seen you in forever but when she glanced over when Tony was telling her a particularly boring story, she couldn't help but gasp at how beautiful you were. Wanda had hoped that you were just there to admire the art work but she knew, deep down, that that would be too good to be true.

"Cat got your tongue?" You were unaware of the turmoil you caused for Wanda. Too focused on your own fun and the way her suit hugged her in all the right places. You wanted nothing more than to fuck her there and then. You didn't want a meaningful relationship with Wanda, just something physical. The two of you were occasional fuck buddies when you were both at HYDRA - the relationship turning slightly toxic very quickly.

You both liked to see how quickly one could get the other jealous. Whether that meant flirting with other people and making sure the other one saw, or just outright sleeping with whoever was nearest. While it seemed that Wanda had grown out of that toxicity, finding love with a glorified Alexa, you never had.

"Why save me darling? I can handle myself."

"You were two seconds from being caught" It was a little disheartening to hear her accent slipping, the last little piece that reminded you of the Wanda she used to be.

"No. No I wasn't." you lifted her chin up and spoke into her neck "I don't need you to save me."

Wanda let out another groan, much louder this time as her hips bucked on your thigh.

"Shhh" You chuckled lowly "We don't want anyone to hear you, right?"

You grabbed her hips and kissed her. It was rough and fast. Wanda whimpered and began grinding harder, trying to get more friction. One hand traced lightly on Wanda's thigh and the other tugged at her waistband. Wanda got rid of them instantly with her magic and you slipped your hand into her panties.

"Shit sweetheart, your toaster not giving you the satisfaction you need?"

"I don't want to think about him" Wanda let out with a slight growl, her accent getting heavier again, like how it was when you knew her.

"Sweetheart when I'm done with you, you wont think of anything else for months."

"God you're a cocky bitch. You're all talk and no action."

"No?" You pushed two fingers into her. You weren't feeling nice enough to start off slow and she was wet enough for it anyway.

Wanda's back arched as she let out a moan and you kissed her chest, her blazer falling open to reveal an extremely unbuttoned shirt. She tried to push your hand further, desperately chasing her release but you pulled away, taking your hand and licking your fingers, watching as Wanda gulped.

"Please..."

"But darling, I think the guards are gone." You smirked as the witch basically threw a temper tantrum.

"So? I haven't felt this good in so long" Wanda shoved her own hand back to where yours was. It was strangely extremely hot to see her try and get back to her high. She suddenly opened her eyes and looked at you. You could see the red wisps surrounding you before you nearly doubled over, looking up at Wanda who wore an evil smile.

"Now you know how I feel. Are you going to get back to it?" Wanda had never done this before. When you had known her, she had little to no control over her powers, only being able to control things with her mind and read others thoughts. She had been practicing.

"Fuck you."

"Well yes, that's what I'm trying to get you to do."

You dropped to your knees and took the rest of her underwear off, slowly licking her as she swung a leg over your shoulder. "Shit y/n, just like that."

You worked your fingers in and out of her, feeling everything you were doing to her on yourself thanks to her magic. You got slightly sloppy as you both neared your climaxes. You suck and bit along her thigh and on her clit until you felt her clench around your fingers. You both saw stars as her magic continued to fuck you, drawing out your orgasms until you were both sweaty messes.

~~~~~

You never did get the painting that night. You didn't really get anything you wanted that night. You sat on the top of your building, one leg swinging and a bottle of something strong in your hand, just watching the city buzz at night. As you sat there watching the tiny people come home from their jobs to their loving families, you wondered if you could have had something like that with Wanda. Then you laughed as you remembered that she was probably wrapped up in the arms of Siri, taking another swig from the bottle, you got up and prepared for your next job.

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #gay smut #smut #dark?

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its-nebula · 4 years ago

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K1-B0, Shuichi, Kokichi, Nagito, Makoto x S/O Who's Afraid of Men

This poor boy...

He just doesn't understand why you're so afraid to be around him. He can barely get close to you without you wanting to recoil...

"Do my robotic features really scare them that much...? Am...Am I really just... a monster?"

He goes home every day thinking of ways he could gain at least your friendship.

When he tries to research about it, all the websites say to put his hand on your shoulder, or look into his eyes.

But whenever he does any of that, you simply just seem to be terrified, and it always makes him feel upset.

One day, he just couldn't take it any longer.

"S/O, I'm sorry that I scare you so much. It's clear to me now that I'll probably never be seen as normal like everybody else..."

You quickly explain to him that it has nothing to do with him being a robot, but instead you simply get a little scared around men.

"O-Oh! Really?"

He gets a little excited before he realizes what you said.

"Wait, what did you say?"

When the two of you start dating, he makes sure to be as cautious as possible when he's around you.

He makes sure to always make sure you know when he's about to touch you, even when it's something as small as touching you oncthe shoulder or arm.

He lets you initiate any hugs or hand holding.

Understands that this will take some time for you to come out of your shell. It won't just happen overnight, and he's okay with that.

Subtly guides you away from anybody who he deems as a problem, especially if they get even as close as a centimeter too close to you.

As a robot, he feels it's his duty to be your personal bodyguard of sorts.

"Don't worry, S/O. I promise I'll make sure nobody ever harms you ever again."

He doesn't really know what to do.

Automatically knows what's happening.

From his detective work, he's seen cases where victims end up like this. It was never pretty, and it made him frown when he thought of what could've happened to you.

He also notices you seem to be weary of other guys you're around, so he's at least a little assurred that it's not just him thatcmakes you uncomfortable.

Still, he had a fat crush on you, and he didn't know how to approach you.

It wasn't until he was walking through the halls that he saw your familiar face, but he saw that someone was seemingly making you uncomfortable. They had you cornered, and it looked like they were trying to flirt.

"Hey! Stop it!"

Once the person in question left, you thanked him before breaking down into tears, almost instinctively leaning into him.

"You're welcome and...oh!"

He was a little surprised, and hesitated a little before raising his arm up to pat your back.

Once the two of you become official, he lets you warm up to him before he thinks of asking to hug you or hold your hand.

He feels bad whenever he subconsciously puts his hand on your shoulder or something. Once he sees your face, he quickly realizes his mistake.

Gets super happy whenever you feel comfortable enough to hold hands with him, it makes him super happy.

It also makes him blush quite a bit.

"I-I'm so glad you feel more comfortable with me, S/O."

Scowls whenever he senses that someone is making you uncomfortable.

"Leave them alone."

Instinctively holds you close to him, and comforts you when the person is gone.

"As long as I'm here, S/O, you can bet that I'll never ever let anyone put you in harms way. I love you..."

"S/O, what's wrong?"

He's used to people being a little uneasy around him, but never just flat out scared.

His eyes widen once he sees you shield yourself once he reaches out to you, and he freezes.

A twang of guilt hits him right in his stomach, and he instantly takes his hand back.

He gives you a small smile.

"You know, not all of us are the same as whatever douchebags you've encountered."

You felt bad for making assumptions, but you just couldn't help it.

Seeing you in such a fragile state saddened him, and he could even feel himself getting angry at whoever did this to you.

"I bet they must've been so horrendously ugly that nobody could even stand to look at them. You really let somebody like that hurt you?"

You try to defend yourself, but you eventually end up telling him your whole life story.

He doesn't mind, though. It's exactly what he wanted.

When in the relationship, he actually touches you a ton, claiming that it will help you get used to it.

He never ever does it without your knowledge, though. He doesn't want to make you have a heart attack.

Just simple things like hugs.

"See, S/O? You deserve to have loving touches too, and besides, I'm way better than that guy anyways."

If you tell him his name, he sends D.I.C.E after him.

Walks up to him with a sadistic grin on his face.

"So. I see you're the culprit. Well, if you ever even think about going near my precious S/O again, I'll make sure it's the last person you'll ever want to go near! Do you understand?"

The guy is terrified and calls him crazy.

"Crazy about S/O, maybe! Are you scared, like how you scared them? Hmmmmmm?"

The guy runs away in fear, and Kokichi chuckles to himself.

"Glad that's settled."

He was already skeptical of being around you in the first place.

"I understand... I mean, who would want to be around me in the first place?"

It's just his luck that the person he really admired seemed to absolutely hate him.

He kept his distance from you, just watching you silently.

Hajime asked him what was wrong, and Nagito only laughed.

"Hajime! Don't worry about me, it's just my insignificant feelings getting in the way again..."

Haji made Nagito spit it out, and Hajime only shook his head once he found out what was wrong. You and Hajime were actually friends, so he knew exactly what your situation was.

When he explained, Nagito frowned at him, thinking that he was just trying to cheer him up. However, as the days passed by, Nagito came to realize that was not the case.

He did notice that the only guy you seemed to be comfortable with was Hajime, and it made something spark inside of him. His eyebrows furrowed every time he saw the two of you together. Could it be possible that the two of you were together...?

"S/O, is it okay if I talk to you for a second?"

You were a little skeptical, but you went with him and he sighed deeply.

"I'm a friend of Hajime's and I think it's lovely how you seem to give him hope!"

As soon as he realized he was mistaken, he felt a bit sheepish.

"Oh..."

After you started dating, he's very supportive of you.

"Don't worry, S/O! I have hope that you'll get through this!"

Makes sure you're very comfortable whenever the two of you go somewhere, opting to keep you close to him.

Whenever you cry, he can't help but hug you. He wants to make sure you're shown the love that you so deserve.

"The despair you feel now will never compare to the light of hope you'll see once you're better, I promise."

Confused as hell.

Nobody's ever been scared of him before, what's going on?

He didn't say something to offend you, did he?

Kyoko has to "kindly" ask him to please stop, because he's scaring you.

"Makoto, please think about things a little differently. Haven't you noticed how S/O acts around all the men we know?"

"So...they like girls?"

Sigh.

Kyoko was right, he hadn't thought about it that way. He noticed how you always seemed to avoid them, and how you practically braced yourself whenever they came near.

He decided to formally apologize to you.

"I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, S/O. I'm really sorry. Just know that I would never think of hurting you like that."

When you two get together, Makoto is a little bit impatient when it comes to your healing process, but he fully understands and would never do something to hurt you.

"I'll wait for you, S/O. No matter how long it takes, I'll be right here for you."

If you hug or cuddle with him, it lets him know that you trust him, and it makes him very smiley.

Kisses your hand if your cheek is too much for you right now.

"I just want you to know that I love you, S/O. I don't want you to feel alone anymore..."

#danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #imagine #headcanons #kokichi oma #nagito komaeda #makoto naegi #shuichi saihara #k1 b0 #kokichi x reader #nagito x reader #makoto x reader #shuichi x reader #k1 b0 x reader

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liddolwhynot2000 · 4 years ago

Text

Unprecedented Reactions: Part 2

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Summary: He likes you, scratch that, he's more then half way in love with you. And if you keep this up, he's not sure he can control himself and keep these feeling bottled up for much longer.

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Pairings: Levi/Reader

Genre: Romance, longing, Soldier!Reader, Levi deserves happiness

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Please read part 1 to understand this better => Unprecedented Reactions

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Growing up in the underground, Levi had learned a very different way to navigate life then normal people did. If you stole a loaf of bread and got caught, you got beat up and starved. If you pick pocketed and didn't get much, you should have picked your target better. If you played nice and thought for anyone but yourself, be prepared to be used and discarded.

When Kenny had left him to fend for himself, Levi had survived on his own just fine. In order to not get caught stealing food, he ran faster. To pick pocket well, his sharp eyes picked out whose pockets had more in them. He didn't make any friends, didn't let anyone join him, so there was never any need to worry about getting stabbed in the back.

Until he met Farlan.

Farlan had been an exception to all his rules, an addition to his life that he hadn't anticipated. Levi had been nervous of course, and not very trusting at the start. But the man had won him over, and secured a soft spot that Levi didn't think his heart even had.

Farlan had not just been his friend, but his brother. The man he only had to look at to ask for a solution to their problems, the man who made jokes that had him hiding smiles, who didn't hesitate a second in defending him from everyone in that hell hole.

He had accepted their brotherhood, feeling a little anxious, but mostly at peace with his decision. And then he had met Isabel.

Sweet, kind Isabel. She had just been a starved, homeless kid when he had found her. His heart hadn't been able to accept the idea of just leaving her there, of walking past her and ignoring her like he forced himself to with all the others. Farlan had only smiled at him when he brought her home and had given her some bread. It had been his way of saying he agreed with Levi's decision.

Since then, they had been a trio. They'd wreak havoc in the underground together, working hard to sustain themselves. Levi, knowing his superior strength, took up more work. He didn't mind it, feeling more safe ensuring their well being with his own hands.

It eventually became a pattern, of leaving it all to him. Sometimes it made him feel pressured, most of the time he pressured them to keep it up. He was too nervous, too scared that he would lose his self made family if he didn't protect them.

His worries hadn't been for nothing, his fears of losing them hadn't been unfounded. Unfortunately, his own actions had been the root cause of it.

If only he hadn't insisted that they believe in him. If only he had kept them close and hadn't gone off on his own. Farlan would be alive right now, and so would Isabel. Had Levi not pushed them to pick, his family would be safe and sound, with him.

Instead, here he was, lying in bed, covered in blankets, and unable to to do anything but mourn.

He would never be the same again, for he would never have his family back. All the positive emotions he had accessed in the years of being with them, had died, leaving behind a shell of a man.

It was like the candle lighting up the room had been shut off by wind. One strong breeze cut off the entire light source, leaving all the darkness in the room what it needed to thrive and spread. Levi didn't think that candle could ever be lit up again, that he could ever experience care for another human being again.

It felt like his heart had been effectively killed.

And that's when he heard the door open.

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He heard you put down the tray, but could tell you hadn't immediately left after. You were still there, staring at him perhaps. Probably ridiculing him for his depression, like he could tell everyone else was.

It ignited a fury in him, an anger he had felt leave his body once he had butchered that titan to pieces. He suddenly wanted to be violent, to destroy everything that crossed his path. Anything that could serve as outlet for his grief. Just as he thought to get out of the blankets and confront whoever had dared to enter his room-he heard the door shut.

Levi sits up, frowning. His hair is all over the place and his uniform direly needed to be cleaned. But he didn't care, he wanted to know why you had dared to enter his room. What gave you the right. He didn't care that you had come to give him food, he just wanted to pick a fight.

Throwing the covers off of him, he ignored the voice in his head that chimed at him to clean his shit up. But he would do that later. Right now, his hands were itching to unleash violence on something. Or rather, someone.

He followed you out, noting that you were a female. His stealth abilities were top notch-a novice like you couldn't even hope to notice him, walking along like nothing was happening.

You paused, and Levi stopped short, thinking he had been found out. He didn't bother to hide himself, after all, he was here to face you. His eyebrows furrowed as he distinctly heard a few male voices chattering.

‘H-Hey did you see that midget from the underground?’

Levi tensed, having a good idea of where this was going. He couldn't help noticing the way you had done the same.

'Yeah. You see the nerve he has, locking himself up in that room like he’s actually mourning. That fucker didn’t even join for the cause.'

He frowned, so what if he hadn't joined the suicidal corps for their cause. Isabel and Farlan had been alive, just like any other person. They had loved and cared for him, and he had done the same for them. Only ungrateful surface dwellers would think he had no right to mourn his friends.

It made his fist clench. You were the furthest thing from his mind now, these men would be the fight he needed ot sate his blood lust.

'Let’s.. Let’s teach that midget a lesson. I bet he’s putting it on. He’s just scum from the underground, he doesn’t even belong here.’

Levi was long accustomed to being called words like that. He fucking hoped they would approach him to 'teach a lesson.' As they all decided they would 'counsel' him on the death of his friends, Levi wanted to laugh. The underground and the surface really did have the same type of scum on it.

Their voices got louder as they approached, and Levi prpeared himself to kick their asses to hell and back-

--Only for you to grab one of the mens arms and smash him against the wall.

Confused, he kept himself out of sight, watching as you took on all three of them. He couldn't understand why you were doing this. Were you like him, frustrated and needing a way to let loose? It made sense, those drunk ass men were good target practice. But he couldn't help feeling that there was more to this.

'Have a little compassion you jerks! He just lost his friends!'

You were defending him? Him? The scum of the underground? Against your precious cormades? Levi could feel the fight in him dying out, being replaced by emotions he had thought that he would never feel again.

'If anyone of you dares to approach him, I swear I'll get the Commander on your asses!'

You were holding one of them in a choke hold, confident that they couldn't overwhelm you.

Levi was in awe of you, watching you lecture and beat up the men that planned on attacking him. The last time someone had defended him like this was Farl-

His breath seized, and he closed his eyes, feeling an abundance of emotions he just couldn't identify. He couldn't word them out, not today.

But he knew he felt grateful to you.

Once he was sure you wouldn't get hurt, he went back to his room. He took the soup and the bread from the tray you had left, and began to eat, allowing himself to not think about anything.

Unbeknownst to him, the candle flickered back on.

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He takes note of you after that, his eyes seeking you out whenever you were in vicinity. He's accepted his role in the corps, his responsibility as a soldier, but he can't help gravitating towards you.

You remind him of Farlan, but it's different. Farlan had wanted to be his friend, but you? You came to his defense, solely out of the kindness of your heart. You want nothing in exchange.

You don't boast about it, don't flaunt it, not to him or anyone else. If Levi hadn't seen you defend him with his own eyes, he would have never found out about it. Those men don't even look in his direction, not after what you did to them.

He feels curious about you, and allows himself to keep you in his radar.

He settles into his job well, climbing the ranks quicker then he thought he would. But Levi is quick to realise why--there just aren't enough people in the Corps. They need him, and if it means having to put aside their reservations about his origins, then so be it.

It makes his day a little better to watch Erwin sweat over keeping him around. He doesn't plan to leave, but it's nice getting a little special treatment. Especially all the free tea he gets.

He doesn't know how to approach you, and even if he did, he has no idea of what to say. Should he tell you he knows what you did? Thank you for it?

He's not used to making friends, so he doesn't know how to be friends with you. Rather, he contends himself with watching you from afar, keeping an eye out for you just in case.

You're a strong, capable soldier, and it brings him a little relief to know that. As his time in the survey Corps piles up, Levi notices how easily some of his comrades get slaughtered. How helpless he is to stop it all.

He selfishly celebrates your safe return from each expedition in his mind.

He can't help noticing you, how kind you are. You put everyone around you at ease, making jokes. He remembers the first time you talked to him, how flustered he had felt afterwards.

'Levi I'm beginning to think the walls were built to protect the titans from you. Not us from them.'

Everyone had laughed, and Levi had felt heat creep up his cheeks at it. It had launched an entire debacle of comrades lauding his strength, one he hadn't been able to shut down. Everyone had been too drunk to be scared of him, and he had been too lost in his thoughts about you to be terrifying enough.

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His following interactions with you are cordial and meaningful at the same time. Ranging from drinking tea together, to practicing with your gear at the same time.

Even though he can't quite explain it, he finds himself making exceptions for you. You're not that good at cleaning, just average, but he doesn't have the heart to scold you for it like with everyone else. He finds himself turning a blind eye to it, blaming your mess on others and letting you off the hook.

It doesn't make much sense on his part, but it happens without him even planning it. There's just something about you that makes him automatically nicer. Levi doesn't question it much, instead opting to simply follow his gut instincts without regrets.

He's too tired of having to think on the battle field, feeling exhausted in his efforts to keep everyone alive. Being around you has a powerful effect on him- for just being your vicinity makes him feel at peace.

Maybe it's because he just misses his friends, and has latched on to you. Or maybe he's too worried about the others still judging his background, thus making him cling to you, the only person he knows doesn't give a damn.

Or maybe it's just that he's very much interested in you- and it's so foreign that he can tell it's not just friendship.

Friendship was when he wanted to help Farlan not die carrying crates that are too heavy for him. He's sure it's not him snatching them away before you even look at them.

Friendship is being okay with his friends talking to other people, not feeling possessive about the low lives who flirt with you. It's certainly not imagining different ways to teach them how to keep their hands to themselves.

Friendship should be being okay with the bare minimum physical affection, not day dreaming being wrapped up in your arms, wondering about how soft they would feel.

He's got a good idea of what he's feeling, but he doesn't have enough nerve to verbalise it. Doesn't have the required courage needed to look you in the eye and say it.

He needs a push, and not the literal one Hange tries to give him everytime she catches him staring at you. He knows he should at least admit what he feels about you in his own mind, but he just can't.

Until he does.

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Ever since he's accepted his position in the survey corps, Levi has made it mission to give it his all. Every order is carried out swiftly, every action is conducted with purpose. He's devoted himself to his job-- no one could link the brash underground thug to the man he is now.

And he likes it that way.

The job isn't easy, of course, especially with all the losses incurred on every expedition. He feels grief for every life lost outside the walls, inwardly chastising himself for not being there, even though he knows its out of his hands.

His hands itch with the urge to do something for his fallen cormades, who gave up their lives to help them succeed. Their young, bright expressions flash in mind, because he was fond of them. He wonders what he can do to honour them, and comes up with two methods.

One, he begins to take their wings of freedom insignia off their dead bodies, keeping them safe and sound for their loved ones. To him, it's proof that they were alive.

Two, he starts making them special graves. It's a laborious task, especially on his own, but he wants to do it. He has to do it, if only to give himself and everyone a way to talk to them, to tell them that they're remembered, even in their deaths.

It's one day he's in the midst of his self assigned mission that you stumble upon him.

He notices you from the corner of his eye, wondering what you think of what's upto. He pretends not to notice the smile you flash his way, knowing that it'll be harder to hold back his blush if he dwells on you too long.

You walk away, and he finds himself slightly dissapointed. He figured you'd at least try to talk to him a little, but shoves his thoughts aside. However he finds himself pleasantly surprised when you return just a few moments later, with a shovel in your hand.

As you flash him a grin and begin to dig as well, he barely manages to take his eyes off of you. Returning to his own task, he finally admits it to himself.

He likes you, scratch that, he's more then half way in love with you. And if you keep this up, he's not sure he can control himself and keep these feeling bottled up for much longer.

He's not sure he can stay away from you for much longer, and a part of him is aching for that time to come.

Now that's he's admitted it to himself, he wonders if he can admit it you.

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The most notable moment he has with you is, unfortunately, when he saves you from a titan. He had hoped that he would never have to see you in this situation, but when has he ever gotten what he hopes for?

He manages to save you in the nick of time, and he's sure he's going to have nightmares about it. You almost falling into a titans mouth, your expression frozen in terror. It's something he'll remember in his darkest moments, a scene right out of his worst fears.

He can't bring himself to keep his distance after saving you, wanting to ensure that you're not injured in anyway. He knows his grip is more delicate then usual, his eyes are more worried then expressionless. But he can't help it.

You mean more to Levi then you think, more then he can even comprehend himself.

He's a little giddy, like a cadet with a crush on his senior, when he finds out your horse isn't there. It means you have to ride on his horse with him, the idea of which makes him feel shy and a little more excited then it should.

You fall asleep on the way back, your head resting on his chest. He doesn't have the heart to wake you up, to the point he sneaks you past everyone in the formation and gently lays you down in the cart. He covers you with his cloak and eyes your peaceful expression, heart sorely wishing for things he's never known he wanted.

There's an urge to brush the strands of hair on your face, he tries to resist it at first but ultimately gives in. His hands are stiff, and he's alert, worried you might wake up. But the moment he manages to brush them aside, he hurriedly moves away from you.

His heart is beating too fast, and he doesn't know how to calm it down.

He's doesn't think he even wants to.

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Dream do come true-especially in Levi's case. He's dreamt of all of his friends dying, and life has served accordingly. Every worst case scenerio that has ever invaded his mind, has the tendency to be brought to life.

It stings really, the injustice of it all. But he knows better then to complain-like always, he makes peace with the situation, and moves on. He refuses to look back and cry, knowing he'll end up in drowning in regrets if he does. He braces himself for the future--likely to be a very dark and bleak one.

He never, in hold widest dreams, expected one of his deeply desired dreams to come true.

He's been digging deep inside himself, trying to find the needed courage to approach you with romantic intentions. To let you know his hearts desires. But so far he's achieved nothing.

So when you approach him one night, eyes unable to look into his own, he's on the edge. He overthinks, expects you to reject him. You probably noticed him pathetically staring at you, and no doubt decided that he needs to be put in his place. He knows he deserves it, after all, what right does a man like him have to even think about someone as pure as you?

He braces himself to be brutally turned down, what he doesn't expect is the words that tumble out of your mouth.

'I.. I'm in l-love with you.'

The words are stuttered, with a red blush spread across your cheeks. He stares at you for a few seconds, mentally commanding your eyes to meet his. When they don't, he takes action with such confidence that he surprises himself.

His hands move to grasp your wrists, and he pulls you closer to him. He rests his forehead against yours, finally managing to get you to look him in the eyes.

Levi smiles, a sight that only you would have the pleasure of seeing for the rest of your life. He chuckles a little, moving even closer to you.

Dreams really do come true in his case. Sometimes, even the good ones.

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A/N: Ta dah! Heyooo here's the part 2! I hope y'all enjoyed this. My asks are open so ask awayyy. Till next time 💕

#Attack on titan #Snk #AOT #Levi/reader #Levi x reader #Soldier! Reader #Levi ackerman #Levi aot

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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better man - m. tkachuk

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

Matthew’s life was a mess. Well, you thought his life was a mess, he thought everything was just fine. You’d watch your friend, or mutual acquaintance if you were being honest, make poor decision after poor decision and you weren’t sure if you could take it anymore. When you’d first met Matthew, after Noah introduced the two of you at a team party, his antics were normal. He’d go out a little bit, but never the night before a game, and aside from the fact that he slept with every girl that walked into his life, things weren’t too bad. You bit your tongue about that one, knowing Matthew would just tease you for being jealous if you’d tried to say a thing about it. But, things were out of control now, it was the night before you knew the Flames had an afternoon game and Matthew was standing across from you at the bar, slamming back a shot with whoever his flavor of the week was.

“Just let it go, if he’s going to ruin his life, it’s not your place to stop him,” Your best friend, Madi, comments, “I’m serious Y/N.”

You watch the girl who’d been under Matthew’s arm slip away and head towards the bathroom, you turn to Madi, “This is the last time, I promise.”

While you didn’t actually consider Matthew your friend, mainly because you don’t think he thought much about you at all, you’d been in this position before. That time ended with Matthew hunched over you for an hour while you prayed to whatever higher power there was that he didn’t throw up in the back of an Uber. You walk over to the bar, a hand on his back while you leaned onto the bar next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Matthew asks, amused with running into you, “I thought you didn’t go places without your boyfriend who’s not your boyfriend.”

“Noah’s not my boyfriend,” You remind him, just like you always did when he accused you of liking Noah. In reality, Noah moved across the hall from you when he’d first got traded to Calgary, and while he’s moved out since, you were still close, “And you have a game tomorrow.”

“I know I do, I’m also a little busy right now,” Matthew smirks, a smug look on his face. His words were slurring together, and the bags under his eyes told you he hasn’t slept in days. Your heart broke, you didn’t understand why he was doing this to himself, the once lively sort of pain in the ass guy you’d met forever ago has turned into a shell of his old self.

“Matt, let me take you home,” You plead, your eyes boring into his, a pout present on your lips, “You need to be home.”

“I’m a grown ass man Y/N,” Matthew argues back, “I can do whatever, and whoever I want.”

“I will march into that bathroom and tell that girl that we’re dating and you’re a cheater, and then I’ll call Gio and tell him his winger is blacked out at a bar when he has an afternoon game tomorrow,” You threaten, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to go. Matthew’s eyes widen, “You wouldn’t call him.”

“I won’t if you go home,” You say, “I’ll pretend this never happened.”

Matthew sighs, closing his tab and calling himself an Uber. He slid off the barstool to head out, and his body hit the ground as soon as he stood up. You turn back to your friends, watching Madi shake her head at you, while you mouth that you were leaving to her.

“C’mon,” You say, grabbing his arm and tossing it over your shoulder. Matthew was a big body, and lugging him out of the bar was no easy feat, but you knew he was in better hands with you than anyone he’d been surrounding himself with lately. You get him into the Uber, sliding in next to him. You watch as the city passes you by, glancing over at Matthew to make sure you weren’t going to have a repeat of last time. His eyelids were starting to get heavy, and he leaned his head onto your shoulder.

“You’re too nice,” Matthew whispers, breaking the silence in the car, “Too nice.”

You smile to yourself, you knew you were too nice sometimes. You forgave too easily, and you definitely cared way too much about other people. But you couldn’t stand back while you watched Matthew continuously ruin his own life - it just wasn’t going to happen. The car finally halts in front of Matthew’s building, and you head inside with him. You were going to get him to bed, and you were going to slip down to Noah’s, who lived on the floor just underneath his, to crash in his guest room, that was the plan.

You’d never been in Matthew’s apartment before, but it certainly looked like a more barren version of Noah’s, despite the fact that Matthew lived in this building way longer. The furniture in it was the furniture that was staged in the apartment, and that you knew for a fact, and he was in desperate need of some curtains. You look around, not noticing one remnant of the fact that anyone actually lived here.

“I can get myself to bed,” Matthew huffs out behind you, finally slipping his shoe off, “Unless you want to join me.”

“I just wanted to be sure you were actually home,” You snark back, turning to look at him with an amused look on your face while he struggled to slip off his other shoe, “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No mom, I got it,” Matthew chirps, tossing his shoes in the front of his door and stumbling into his bedroom. You heard a few drawers open and shut, followed by what you assumed was him brushing his teeth. You waited a few minutes, grabbing a water and some pain relievers to ease the hangover you knew he was going to have. You slip in, setting them on his nightstand.

“You should just stay here, it's late,” Matthew mutters into his pillow, causing you to jump.

You knew you should go down to stay with Noah, your key to his apartment was hanging on your keys as you stood there. But, you didn’t want to tell Noah what you just had to do, afraid it was going to become locker room talk that you were sure Matthew didn’t want to be a part of. He trusted you, at least enough to leave with the addition of your threat, and you couldn’t break that. So you nodded, stepping into Matthew’s guest room and opening the closet to pull out a pair of his shorts and a shirt - falling asleep almost immediately.

You woke up the next morning before the sun rose, slipping out of bed after your stomach started growling. You padded out of Matthew’s guest room, hoping he had some sort of groceries in his fridge. Your options were slim, but at least he had some eggs and a coffee maker. You get to work, pulling out a pan as quietly as you could, and brewing a pot of coffee for yourself. Your logical half of your brain screamed to just leave, slip out of his place before he woke up and you learned what kind of hungover monster he probably was, but you couldn’t help yourself. You just wanted to show him some kindness, hoping that could push him a better direction than the one he’d been flying full speed in.

“Are you making breakfast?” Matthew asks, causing your head to snap up from the eggs you’d been making. His curls were a mess, sticking out in all directions while he ran a hand through them as if that was going to help.

“I was hungry,” You admit, whispering because you were afraid to set him off, “I can go if you want-”

“No, stay,” Matthew waves you off, “I’m sorry I had like nothing in my fridge, I haven’t been the best about that.” You watch Matthew walk behind you, throwing open his fridge door and grabbing the orange juice from his fridge, smelling it to make sure it was still good, “I could teach you how to grocery shop you know.”

“I can handle myself Y/N,” Matthew rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and sitting on one of the stools in his kitchen, “Nice shirt by the way.”

You blush, looking down at the USA hockey shirt that hung on your frame. Matthew’s last name printed boldly on the back, you knew it was his, and it had been for a long time. It was soft and comfortable, and it looked like the coziest thing in his guest room closet the night before, “It was the only one in there.”

“I’m sure,” Matthew says, stealing a bite of the eggs you slid in front of him, “Oh these are good.”

“They’re eggs?” You say, confused as why he thought you made a gourmet meal out of the three ingredients he had in his entire apartment.

“I’ve used my stove once since I moved in here three seasons ago,” Matthew admits, shrugging and digging back into his food. You lean against the counter, putting your face in your hands. He was hopeless wasn’t he?

You bit your lip while you rode the elevator, skipping Noah’s floor and heading to the one right above it. You hoped he was home, prying the Flames current practice schedule out of Noah without him questioning it further. You walk up to Matthew’s door, knocking lightly. Hopefully he answered you, and hopefully he wasn’t doing anything too reckless this early in the day. Your mind starts to race, what if you were crossing a line?

“What are you doing here?” Matthew asks, confused as to why you were lost in your own thoughts in front of his apartment door, “Are you lost?”

“No, I just,” You start, trying to find words that sound better than Hey, I think your life is on a downward spiral and I think that I can stop you before things get too bad, “I’m going to teach you how to grocery shop.”

“I told you I can take care of myself,” Matthew reminds you.

“Is your fridge still as empty as it was the other day?” You ask, smirking when you saw his eyes shift. “Fine, I’ll go with you,” Matthew says, grabbing his hoodie that was hanging off his couch, stepping out and following you to your car, “I don’t know what kind of brownie points you’re getting for this, but it’s fucking annoying.”

You smile, you were still getting your way regardless of how annoyed Matthew was, “You came here willingly.”

“I was just hungry,” Matthew grumbles.

Grocery shopping with Matthew was an experience to say the least. He’d found a new way to pester you throughout the entire store. He complained about everything you told him to buy, reminding you that he didn’t even know how to cook. You responded quickly, telling him you could teach him easily. You weren’t a chef, but you had a few tricks up your sleeve that you were proud of. Matthew just teased you, telling you that you just wanted to spend more time with him. He poked your sides every time you tried to reach up and grab something, causing you to giggle while he gently nudged you out of the way to grab it himself. He called you mom in the store with every chance he got, the elderly couple across from you giving you an odd look as to why he was acting like a grumpy teenager. You were straight up exhausted by the time you were done, leaning against the counter in Matthew’s apartment while you watched him put away all of the groceries he’d bought against his will.

“So when are you going to teach me how to cook half this shit?” Matthew asks.

“I can show you now?” You ask, wondering if maybe he had plans that didn’t include for the evening. You saw him debate it internally for a moment, looking down at his phone and typing out a message before he nodded at you.

You started with something simple with him, salmon and some veggies, it was healthy and easy enough for him to cook on his own without you. Matthew was a little chaotic at first, unable to stand still while you tried to show him how to cut the lemon you were using to add to the Salmon. But you worked at it, calming him down enough to watch him searing the fish in his pan, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a little bit.

“Am I doing this right?” Matthew asks, and you peer over his shoulder, nodding when you inspect his work, “So, do you do this with Noah or am I your only project?”

“Noah knows how to cook for himself and stay in when he has to play the next day,” You remind Matthew, “So yes, you’re my only project.”

“Why aren’t you dating him? I mean you, spend enough time at his place and you’re always together,” Matthew pries, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t actually spend all of your time with Noah, but Matthew only ever saw you when you were with him.

“He hooked up with my friend Madi,” You explain, the exact reason why Noah was a no go zone for you, “And then he stopped talking to her.”

It was true. When you’d been neighbors you introduced the two, hoping they’d end up together like you wanted. It worked out at first, noticing that they both had chemistry but then Noah didn’t call her after they hooked up and Madi was devastated over it. The pair had talked it out a few months ago, but that still didn’t mean you were going to date Noah like everyone assumed you were.

“Dick move,” Matthew mutters under his breath, “I mean I’m not better but-”

“I’d honestly prefer to never talk about it again,” You shake your head, tensing up at the thought of the year you had two of your favorite people at war with the other, “That’s done.”

“I can’t believe you’re domesticating me,” Matthew chirps, sitting across from you on his couch because he lacked a dining room table, “This is pretty damn good though, compliments to the chef.”

You roll your eyes at his smugness, “Some girl is going to be very lucky after I’m done with you.”

“So I am your new project?”

Phase two of Matthew’s transformation was that you were going to help him make it seem like someone actually lived in his apartment. You’d walked into his apartment with some plans, mostly a firm belief that it wouldn’t kill to own a throw pillow but you didn’t know what kind of monster you were actually dealing with. Apparently, Matthew’s time at home was spent watching an unhealthy amount of HGTV with his mother and he knew more about home decor than you initially thought. Shopping was actually fun, until you mentioned that you really thought he should get a dining table, reminding him of the empty space in his place that needed it, and now you were bickering in the middle of a furniture store.

“I don’t like have people over for dinner parties Y/N,” Matthew argues, his voice growing louder, and you could feel how tense the poor person who was showing you around the store was.

“What about when your parents are in town?” You ask, “I’m sure your mom would appreciate it.”

“In my experience, your girlfriend is probably right,” The man standing next to you squeaks out and you both turn to him at the same time.

“We’re not dating!” You both yell out in unison, reminding this man for the third time that there was nothing going on between the two of you.

“Just get the table,” You huff, tired of embarrassing yourself in public. You pout, mustering up your cutest face, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Matthew closes his eyes and throws his head back, “I’ll get the table.”

You clap silently to yourself, watching as Matthew scheduled a delivery for the table. You really didn’t think pouting would work, especially because Matthew can be exceptionally stubborn when he wanted to, but you were happy he did.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to buy that table,” Matthew says, leaning over to look at you while you drove back to his place, “Not cool to bring my mom into this, but you were right, she’s going to love it.”

“You’ve lived here for almost four years, your place needed some work,” You say, you wanted to tell he needed a home but you knew the teasing that ensue so you bit your tongue.

“You’re going to like, help me with this right?” Matthew asks, pointing to the things you’d bought in the back of his car, you nod. Silently making a mental note to cancel your dinner plans with Madi, you knew she was going to be mad, especially because your reason was because you thought you could guide Matthew into being a better person. But you wanted to spend time with him, because despite how much of a grouch he was, he wasn’t all bad.

Sometimes you thought Matthew was invincible. You thought nothing could hurt him, especially after sitting close enough to the glass and hearing just how hard he’d taken a hit. But it turns out, a bookshelf was going to be what took him down. It’d been hours since you got back to his apartment, and while you set out some of the other things you’d bought, Matthew insisted he could put together the bookshelf. You leaned against his couch, watching him struggle in the middle of the floor.

“Matthew let me just-” You try and interject, yet again, and offer your help.

“I can do it,” Matthew says, “I just keep losing pieces.”

Matthew’s demeanor was frantic, he had nails and pieces of the bookshelf scattered around him while he read the directions for the hundredth time. You squat next to him, placing your hand on his back and rubbing up and down. You can feel how tense his back was, and how he was calming down under your touch, “How about you order us some food, and I just finish this real quick?”

Matthew lets out a breath, “Why are you so much better than me at everything?”

“I don’t even know how to skate so,” You shrug, there was one thing he definitely had on you.

“I’d teach you, but you’ll find a way to outshine me and we can’t have that,” Matthew jokes, standing up to go get his phone from another room and call and order you food. By the time he came back, you had half the shelf built already. He rolls his eyes, jumping on his couch and picking a movie on Netflix - telling you that was the only other thing he was better than you at.

You sat in the stands with Madi at the Saddledome, cringing as you watched Matthew skate to the penalty box for the third time that evening.

“What the fuck is he doing out there?” Madi asks, “Collect your man Y/N.”

You were too confused to go into defense mode on how Matthew wasn’t yours. He wasn’t. But you spent all of your time together when he was in the city, so you knew he wasn’t someone else’s either. You shake your head, your eyes moving to the penalty while you watch Matthew break his stick against the boards. The Flames were down 4-0 and it just seemed like everything wasn’t going in their favor. With three penalties under his belt, and two of those goals scored against them on the power play you understood why he was so mad but you didn’t understand why he’d kept retaliating against whoever was trying to get under his skin.

When the third period ended, you felt your phone vibrate while you were heading back out to your car. A text from Matthew appearing on the screen.

Come over?

You hear Madi scoff behind you, “If you go you’re never going back and I promise you that.”

“We’re friends,” You argue back, a little annoyed with your best friend's constant disdain for anyone that went near you.

“He’s going to do to you what he's done to countless other girls,” Madi retorts back, “Just like Noah did to me, they’re all the same.”

You roll your eyes, “Then I’ll worry about it when he hurts me.”

You stomped over to your car, leaving Madi to go to hers alone. You take a deep breath, pulling out of the lot and into the direction of Matthew’s apartment. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes while you thought about Madi’s words. You weren’t anything more than friends with Matthew but if he walked out of your life today you weren’t sure if you could recover as quickly as you thought. You slip in Matthew’s building unnoticed, sitting outside of his apartment door and allowing yourself to have a quick cry before you heard the elevator ding, signifying that he was home.

“I’ve got to give a key,” Matthew grumbles, “My neighbors probably think you’re stalking- are you crying?”

“I’m fine,” You rush out, standing up and wiping your eyes, “It’s fine.”

Matthew sighs, his eyes going soft, “Come inside.”

Matthew’s hand landed on your lower back, guiding you into his place. You take notice that he’d moved a few of the things you scattered around his place, making them his own. You also took notice of the neatly folded laundry on his table, meaning he actually did his own laundry instead of taking everything to the cleaners. You watch Matthew stomp around his apartment, still in a mood from his game, and while you were upset you knew calming him down was the first thing you had to do.

“Matty,” You whisper, a nickname you’d taken a liking to, mostly because while he claimed he couldn’t stand it, he never stopped you from saying it, “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew shrugs, leaning against his couch, “Usually I’d go out after a game that bad, but then I could hear your reprimand me in my head.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You suggest, a small smile at his confession, you were getting through to him.

“Do you want to talk about why you were sitting in my hallway crying?” Matthew says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“You first,” You push, hoping you could pry it out of him.

“I’d really rather not relive the fact that I’m the sole reason that we lost that badly tonight,” Matthew mutters, “I’m going to have to watch it all over again tomorrow anyways.”

“It’s a team sport,” You remind him, even though you were there, the Flames may have lost but you know it wouldn’t have been by a four goal deficit if he could stay out of the box, “It wasn’t-”

“You were there, and you’re a terrible liar,” Matthew interrupts, a look on his face that you told you to just admit it, it was his fault.

“I’m not going to pile onto the guilt you’re feeling,” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine, tell me what’s up with you then,” Matthew says, nodding at you, waiting for an explanation.

“I got into it with Madi, it’s fine,” You brush off, you really didn’t want to admit to Matthew that he was the reason you’d been getting into it with her a lot lately.

“You said no secrets the other day,” Matthew reminds you, opening his arms for you to step into him, “That goes both ways.”

“Let me keep this one,” You say, wrapping your arms around his waist, “Please.”

“Just this once.”

Matthew’s family were some of the loveliest people you’d ever met in your life, and it was honestly shocking to you that his parents raised such a pest. Especially now, watching Matthew move around his kitchen while you sat on his couch with his brother who was in town along with his parents and his sister. You’d declined his invitation for dinner at first, not really sure if there was a line that you were crossing having dinner with his family, the whole thing just felt so domestic to you.

“So did you just switch his brain with someone who’s nicer?” Brady asks, pressing you about what you did with this brother, “Or is it like a clone situation?”

“Brady leave her alone,” You hear Matthew call out from his kitchen, showing off to his parents the new cooking skills he’d acquired over the past month.

You laugh, taking a sip of your wine, whispering to Brady, “It was a brain switch.”

Brady nods, whispering back, “I knew it.”

Watching Matthew with his family definitely wasn’t helping the feelings you’d been harboring. You thought it was a small crush, that was probably because you spent most of your time with him, but it’d been snowballing into more as of late. You watched him talk to his sister and about his sister like she was the most important person in the world, and you think to him she probably is. You heard how soft his voice would go when his mother called out to him or how hard he laughed when his dad cracked a joke. This was the Matthew you knew was shoved under a million layers of angst.

“I can’t believe you actually taught him how to cook,” Chantal muses, smiling at you gently, “I’d never been able to stop him from making a mess, even when he was a kid.”

“Mom,” Matthew protests, trying to stop her from embarrassing him with stories from his childhood, “She doesn’t need to know how bad I was as a kid.”

“I think she can figure it out for herself,” Brady calls out, holding his hand for a high five to you. You slap your hand against his, laughing when you see Matthew pout next to you.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Matthew protests, “No loyalty around here.”

“I am on your side,” You remind him, your hand squeezing his thigh under the table. He smiles, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. The gesture was so small, but the electricity you felt through your body was unmatched. Matthew’s hand didn’t leave yours for the entire night - until he’d gotten so mad at Brady for “cheating” at the board game you’d all decided to play that he stomped away leaving you alone with his parents.

“Should we do something about that?” Brady asks, trying to read the room.

“Yes go apologize to your brother,” Keith sighs, as if this was something that happened often. You couldn’t be surprised, in a family that athletic there was no way that they weren’t a little competitive.

You watch Brady walk out of the room to go say he was sorry to Matthew and you feel Chantal’s hand on your arm.

“I know my son isn’t good with his own feelings,” She starts, her voice as warm and kind as it could be, “Just don’t give up on him.”

You smile, nodding, “I won’t.”

When Matthew woke you up on a Saturday morning with a heavy knock on your door, you were worried. You didn’t even know what he could have done in the ten hours since you’d last seen him but he didn’t always do the right thing - so naturally you panicked.

“Are you okay?” You ask, throwing your door open and forgetting the fact that you were still in the shorts and t-shirt you were sleeping in.

“Nice fit,” Matthew smirks, his eyes scanning up your body and you realized you’d been wearing the same shirt you stole from the first night you stayed over at his place, “I’m never getting that shirt back am I?”

“No it’s way too comfortable,” You say, because it was, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m teaching you how to skate,” Matthew smiles, proud of himself for the idea.

“I thought we couldn’t have me outshining you?” You ask, throwing his own words back at him.

“I want you to come to our Christmas skate but I don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of that many other people,” Matthew shrugs, “Please?”

Matthew knew you couldn’t resist his stupid pouty face as much as he couldn’t resist yours. You were eachother greatest weakness and that’s just how it was. You nod, telling him you needed to change before you headed out to wherever he was going to take you.

You didn’t expect much, and when Matthew started to head in a direction opposite of any ice rinks you were severely confused. You pulled up to a park, a large pond that had frozen over ahead of you. You step out, watching Matthew pull two pairs of skates and hockey sticks out of his trunk.

“How did you-?” You start to ask how he even knew what size skate to get you.

“I asked Noah,” Matthew shrugs, “Apparently he knows more about you than you think.”

You laugh, the text that Noah sent you about Matthew being soft as hell making way more sense now than it did the other day. You follow Matthew to a bench, watching as he bent down to tie your skates for you, “You’re not going to let me get hurt right?”

The question was simple, but the glimmer in his eye when he told you nothing would happen to you told you that he meant more than just the skating. Your hands were in his while he skated backwards, pulling you around the ice.

“You know a month ago I probably would have let you fall on your ass,” Matthew comments when your skates started to slip underneath you, “But you’ve really turned me into a better person.”

“If only I could get you to stop getting into scrums,” You tease, even though you secretly loved to watch him defend his teammates the way he did. He always justified it to you after a game, telling you if he didn’t do it, someone would bully Johnny and he couldn’t let that happen. It was part of his game, and it was the way he liked to play.

“I told you,” Matthew says, dragging out his words, “I need to do it. Stay here.”

Matthew skated to the end of the pond, grabbing two sticks and two pairs of gloves for the both you, tossing them to you. You looked ridiculous, in hockey gloves that were four sizes too big and a stick that wasn’t cut to your height.

“Wait stay like that,” Matthew pulls out his phone, snapping a picture while you stood in the standard peewee hockey pose, laughing to himself while you assumed he sent it to Noah, but when you opened your phone you say a tag from Matthew’s instagram story and you knew he posted it for the world to see.

“Matty!” You call out, about to reprimand him for posting it while your phone continued to vibrate with follow requests.

“What? You look so cute right now,” Matthew says, while you started to charge at him, forgetting he hadn’t taught you how to stop yet. You skate right into his chest, unable to knock him on the ground like you’d intended, “Easy there killer, you don’t get to start fighting with people until you learn how to stop first.”

“You’re a bully,” You mutter, crossing your arms at him.

“You love it,” Matthew teases back, but in reality, you think you actually did.

Matthew didn’t owe you an explanation for anything he did, and you knew that. But with him gone on the East Coast for almost two weeks, you were grateful for his daily check ins and silly snapchats. It made you smile, to see he was in bed watching a movie instead of out partying like you knew his teammates were definitely doing. You were internally counting down the days until he’d back, trying to pull off a little surprise for him in the meantime.

You sat in his apartment, using the key he’d given to you before he left, with a bunch of empty picture frames you bought a few days ago, a package from St. Louis right to them. After you had dinner with his parents you’d talked to his mom once a week. Mostly for her to tell you thank you for forcing him to call her more often, but other times it was just to gossip.

But you’d asked a few weeks ago for some pictures to hang up around his place, realizing he didn’t have one picture of his family anywhere in his place. His mother sent over every family photo she had a copy of, slipping in a few photos of Matthew as a toddler that made your heart melt in a puddle. You smile pulling a photo of the Tkachuk siblings together, Matthew probably showing off the loss of his two front teeth. You learned from his father during that dinner, that Matthew didn’t actually lose his two front teeth, instead they were knocked out by his younger brother before they had the chance to fall out.

You set the last photo on the bookshelf that you put together, tilting it so it leaned against the others in a perfect way. You heard the knob of his front door turn, revealing a very sleepy Matthew in front of you.

“I thought I saw your car,” Matthew smiles, dropping his bag to the floor, “What are you doing here?”

“Notice anything different?” You ask, gesturing around his place, his head turns to scan the room, a growing smile on his face. The kind of smile where his dimples were on full display, one you noticed he reserved for his family and for you.

“How did you get these?” Matthew says, picking up a picture that you picked out of him and his siblings at one of his father’s All Star games.

“I asked your mom for them,” You shrug.

“How often do you talk to my mom?” Matthew asks.

“Once, twice a week,” You mutter out, like your calls with his mother had been your little secret.

Matthew laughs to himself, muttering something under his breath you couldn’t quite make out, “Thank you.”

“I’m confident you’d do the same for me,” You say, because at this point you were sure he was at least 50% less selfish than he used to be.

“I’d do anything for you,” Matthew says, looking over at you to gauge your reaction. Chantal’s words about how terrible her son was with his own emotions running through your head.

“Hey Matty,” You say, trying to get his attention while he walked away to change out of the suit he’d been wearing on the plane, “You said no secrets right?”

“I believe that was our agreement,” Matthew smiles, turning around to look at you.

“I love you,” You say, you couldn’t take it anymore, you just needed to let it out. Matthew stood there, his eyes moving to everything in the room besides you, for the first time in his life, he was silent, “Oh my god this is embar-”

Matthew took three long steps over to you, placing both of his hands on your cheeks before he took a deep breath, “I needed you to say it first.”

You smile, connecting your lips with his,

“You’re going to say it back right?”

And in his apartment that you’d turned into a home, Matthew stood in his living room, pecking your lips while he repeated the three sweetest words to you.

“I love you”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

240 notes · View notes

illlumiseven · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Ever Scare me Like that Again.

Joel Miller x Reader

Pt : 1/2

Warnings: Light Angst, fluff(if you squint), swearing

Summary: You’re Tess’ slightly younger sister and you tag along with Joel and Ellie even though Joel insisted you go with Tommy to Jackson.

Word Count: 1.7k

———————————————————

Autumn

Autumn rolled around pretty fast.

We had separated with Tommy almost a month ago now and you could really feel the cold beginning to seep in.

Joel had been particularly quiet this journey barly even scolding Ellie, which to you was unbelievably confusing.

You stared at the back of Joel’s head as he lead the three of you into a new town.

Ellie had decided to give him a break and ride with you for a change.

You didn’t mind, it was comforting with Ellie so close to you she was like a personal heater.

“Hey what was Tess like ?” She asked you loud enough so you could hear her but Joel couldn’t.

You drew in a shakey breath as memories came flooding in from your childhood.

“Tess was great, she was this cheerful, kind of peppy girl, especially when we were in school,” you smiled at the thought.

“See Tess was the popular girl and in turn everyone knew who I was. I was only a year behind her in school,” you explained to the girl.

You glanced back at Ellie and noticed she had a small smile on her face.

“Did she like the attention ?”

This made you laugh slightly which had Joel’s head turning around slightly to peer at the two of you.

“Liked it! She fucking loved it,” you said, your laughter dying out.

“I have no clue why though,” a small smile still eteched on your face.

Ellie smiled proud of the fact she got you to show some emotions that weren’t sadness or anger.

Ellie had noticed from the day Tess died that you had been kind of like a shell of a person and she felt guilty.

She had a feeling that you and her would get along but she just needed to break through the walls you put up.

Ellie was about to ask you another question about life before the infection, when Joel suddenly pulled his horse to a stop.

“Stop with your chit chat and go look for supplies,” he said in a short and clipped tone.

You noticed Ellie roll her eyes and mock salute him as she hopped off the horse. You quickly followed after her, after you handed Joel the reigns of your horse.

Ellie ran into a bookstore while you went into the supermarket next to it.

You quickly picked up anything you found that could be useful.

Your head whipped round when you heard Ellie call your name from the bookshop.

“Yeah?” You replied as you finished putting some food into your rucksack.

“Look,” she said as she held out a copy of a book.

You couldn’t make out the title from where you stood but when you moved forward and saw it you drew in a small breath beofore a smile spread over your face.

“Grimms’ Fairytales!” You said as you took the book out of her hands and inspected what kind of condition it was in.

“How’d you know ?” You asked her as you looked up from what was practically your childhood.

“It looked old just like you,” she said in a joking tone.

You feigned a look of hurt before smiling and looking back down at the book.

“What is it about ?” You heard Ellie ask.

You looked up and opened your mouth to answer but changed your mind halfway.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll read you this book when we take breaks, and then you’ll find out what it’s about.”

You looked over and Ellie had the biggest smile on her face and it warmed your heart.

A sudden thought passed through your mind and it made a small smile appear.

‘ This must be what having a kid feels like’

That thought ran through your head for the next couple of days on your journey when you and Ellie would talk constantly while riding.

She would speculate what was going to happen next in the first story you started with from the collection.

Cinderella.

Joel was still very quiet but you noticed that some days he looked a bit happier than he was most.

You also noticed the amused smile that would appear briefly on his face when Ellie would make a ridiculous assumption about what would happen next.

Over the coming weeks it began to get progressively colder and you all began to search for warmer clothes when you’d stop in old QZ’s or towns.

Everything was smooth sailing until you ran into another group of hunters.

You had finally made it to Colorado and you were honestly a bit upset about the fact you’d be parting with Ellie so soon, but you hid that from her and Joel.

Walking through the science building made you feel uneasy.

That feeling only grew when you heard something on the floor above you.

“What if it’s hunters,” you said to which Joel scoffed.

“The place still looks inhabited,” you tried to argue.

He had simply brushed you off saying whoever lived there probably moved on, which in all honesty confused you because he knows hunters don’t move on from places once they settle.

So here you were shooting two guys in the face as Ellie pulled Joel up off of the rusted metal spike that had impaled his stomach.

Joel was a mess.

He could barely stand and would stumble every couple of metres before you eventually forced him to lean on you as you told Ellie to cover you both.

When you finally made it back outside you helped Joel over to his horse before he insisted he was fine.

You told Ellie to stick with Joel this time and with that the three of you took off out of Colorado and the rest was a blur to you.

You had made it a good bit away from the university and you were coming up to the outskirts of a smaller town before Joel keeled over, off of his horse.

Your mind went fuzzy and you felt yourself breathing heavily as you jumped off your horse and down beside him.

Ellie snapped you back to reality as she picked up Joel’s left arm and slung it around her own before telling you to ‘hurry the fuck up and get his right side.’

With that you snapped into action and and helped put him on the horse before walking the horse to an abandoned cabin.

You helped Ellie a good bit. While she took Joel down off the horse you went upstairs to check for infected. There were two clickers in a the kitchen that you easily took care of.

You went back down to the basement and noticed Ellie had found a mattress and pulled it down for Joel to lie on.

You stared at the man you had known since you were 34 a nauseating feeling spreading throughout you as you did. Joel was always ready to fight, but now just looked so weak and fragile and it scared you like nothing else ever had.

Winter

About a week had passed since you had arrived at the cabin and winter was now in full swing where the cabin was located anyways.

To say you hated being stationed in one place for too long, was an understatement.

You despised it.

You felt like a sitting duck waiting to be eaten by clickers or killed by hunters.

You had been going out on supply runs constantly refusing to let Ellie accompany you or go herself.

Which pissed her off to say the least.

But you knew better.

Joel would have your head if he found out you let her out alone.

You were doing everything in your power to protect the two of them.

Making sure Ellie had food in the morning and evening and making sure Joel got some form of medicine everyday.

It was incredibly difficult to come by but you found a couple of abandoned lodges that had some Penicillin in them.

While you were were on your way back you bumped into a small group of hunters.

You easily picked them off silently before you headed back.

Once you got back you went straight for the basement and injected the antibiotics into Joel’s stitched up wound.

Joel seemed to be better the next morning and that put your mind at ease. You were expecting to be back on the road soon enough.

But what you didn’t anticipate was the fact that you were tracked.

You told Ellie to stay with Joel, that you’d get rid of them and you’d be back soon.

But when you never came back Ellie got worried and followed after your tracks only to find Callus dead.

So instead she just followed after the trail of dead bodies you left behind.

You couldn’t really remember much.

You were taking out one guy and then you somehow ended up battered and bruised on the floor, in a place you didn’t recognise.

You didn’t know how long you were there or when the man with the baseball bat finally stopped hitting you and disappeared.

Voices barely registered in your mind. You thought you heard Ellie but you could’ve just been hallucinating due to the concussion.

What you did recognise though was Joel’s voice.

You swore you heard him yell your name but it was too hard to tell since you were in and out of consciousness.

You felt a pair of warm arms embrace you. You tried to focus on something, anything when you could faintly hear Joel.

“C’mon darlin stay with me,” his voice sounded far away but you knew it belonged to the person holding you.

You forced your eyes open much to the begrudgement of the rest of your body.You realised your right eye was swollen and could barely open but through your left you could see the face belonging to a worried Joel hovering above you.

“You’re okay,” you mustered up as you looked at the man above you.

Joel’s expression softened and he chuckled, “don’t you be worryin’ bout me darlin,” he said softly.

You smiled before turning your head towards his body and closing your eyes.

He let out a breath of relief before picking you up and getting Ellie before walking out of wherever you were.

Before you faded out of consciousness, the last thing you heard was Joel’s voice.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

Authors Note: Hey hoped you enjoyed this for now it’s a two shot but I don’t know how I’m leaving the second chapter so there could be a part 3. But again hoped you enjoyed ❣️

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #twoshot #the last of us imagine #joel miller imagine #angst #slight fluff #i mean i tried #joel miller deserves love and affection #violence #death mention

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catboymingi · 4 years ago

Text

tough shell, soft core

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: mainly angst, a little fluff with a happy ending

word count: 8.4k

warnings: self harm (not graphic, but blood is mentioned), abuse (one description/retelling, several mentions), parental death mention, alcoholism mention, emetophobia/vomiting, suicide/overdosing (the attempt not graphic, the aftermath a little more graphic), explicit language (mentions of a h*ndj*b twice, though no descriptions of the act); generally a quite heavy piece

a/n: i really ask people to be cautious - there is a fairly graphic part in about the middle of it where a lot of warnings come shortly after another, and that part is not for those easily triggered; with this piece especially i would be grateful if people let me know about potential missed warnings, i obviously tried to get everything but it’s long so i might have missed something

not everyone’s as strong as they seem, and not everyone’s as perfect as they seem

you were a fucking idiot to think anyone would ever love you. a complete fucking idiot. there was a reason you were living alone from age seventeen, and that was because not even your parents could love you. because you were inherently wrong, and everyone left as soon as they found out who you were, what you were like. even if they promised they wouldn’t. never again would you allow yourself to think that someone would stay - that was how you’d ended up in this situation, crying on your bathroom floor at 3am as you realised you were unlovable and that there was no use in not hurting yourself when you already had the scars that would make anyone shy away, would make anyone leave you. but still, part of you wished that someone would care and would stay and would want you. and maybe it was because of that that you called whoever had sent a message to the class group chat at 3am asking about if anyone wanted to go to a party or do something else fun, seeing how it was currently weekend and no one would be able to make the “but we have school” excuse.

“hello?” the voice on the other end told you that it was mingi, a classmate you’d never talked to much, who you tried to avoid as much as possible because he screamed trouble, who didn’t seem like he’d care at all. he was the class’ bad boy, though you didn’t want to judge by exterior; with him it was hard not to, though.

“hi.” anything more and he would’ve heard the cracking of your voice, so you didn’t say anything more.

“y/n?” you didn’t think he even knew who you were. “what’s up?”

oh right. it was 3am, you’d never called or even texted him before even during more appropriate hours of the day, and those facts made it obvious that something was up.

“oh, n-nothing.” there it was, that damn crack in your voice that made it so obvious that something was so wrong, that you weren’t okay, that you were trying not to cry.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you knew, logically, that he didn’t actually care. that it didn’t matter to him whether or not you were okay. that he asked just to be polite, though you hadn’t expected him to care about being polite, actually. but still, you wanted him to care. wanted someone to care.

“yeah, it’s- it’s fine.”

“do you want me to come over? where do you live?”

you should have kept your mouth shut, because now it was more than clear that you needed something, someone, whatever. that you weren’t okay right now. still, even though of course he’d be polite, the fact that he offered to come over surprised you. that was more than just being polite. but it didn’t have to mean anything. it didn’t mean anything.

“you can send me your address if you want, i’ll be there as soon as i can, okay? or we can keep calling.”

you wouldn’t be able to keep calling, so you hung up without saying another word. and because you were stupid and desperate and hoped that someone would actually care, you sent him your address, sent the school’s bad boy that had literally just asked about a party your address.

[+82 ---]: ill be there in 30

and seeing how you were a fucking idiot you hurt yourself again while waiting, because you felt guilty about having made him come over at 3 in the night (even though he’d been the one to offer), hoping desperately that your sweater sleeve would do the job at keeping the blood hidden when you heard the doorbell ring.

“hey, it’s mingi” was how he let you know who had rung, as if there was anyone else that could possibly be ringing your doorbell right now. but you didn’t care, your mind was fixated on trying to hide the signs of how fucked up you were, so you just pressed the little button letting him in downstairs and opened the door to your apartment. then, you waited until you heard his steps on the stairs, at which point you began to feel incredibly anxious.

in the few seconds until he arrived in front of your door the anxiety had grown exponentially and your hands were clinging to the hem of your shirt, both in comfort and in an attempt to wipe off the blood that had - of fucking course - travelled down your arm.

“hey.” you were so incredibly awkward, not knowing what you’d thought when you’d agreed to him coming over, because you didn’t know him and you didn’t know how on earth he was supposed to help you get over your first breakup that had left you more shaken than a breakup should.

“hey. are you okay?” maybe it was a stupid question, but he didn’t really know what to say either. the situation was just entirely weird.

you moved to the side instead of replying, because it was obvious that you weren’t, but you also didn’t want to have to say it. your hands were still playing with your shirt, and as he was trying to find something to focus on he noticed, and he noticed the blood, too.

he’d seen some scars on your arms before, even though you were always hiding them, wearing long sleeves whenever he’d seen you. it was when you’d put on the plastic gloves during chemistry class, but he hadn’t said anything - he wasn’t an asshole, not that much of an asshole, at least -, and it wasn’t his place to comment on it. but now he felt like he should say something, not a moral judgment but rather a matter of… practicality?

“can i clean those up?”

surprise was too weak a word for what you felt when mingi revealed to you that he knew. you’d been so careful to hide it, but apparently not careful enough. still, you tried to make excuses.

“i just got hurt when cooking, i’m clumsy. it’s fine.”

what a poor excuse, but the only one you’d been able to think of on the spot.

“i’m not going to say anything, but let me make sure it doesn’t get infected or whatever, okay?”

and because a secret, embarrassing part of you had yearned for someone to take care of your wounds for so many years now you nodded, moving to the bathroom with him once he’d taken his shoes off, sitting down on the toilet and slowly pulling up your sleeve. you’d made a whole mess, it looked much worse than it was because you hadn’t taken care of it and now the entire arm was covered in blood from dragging your sleeve up and down. the boy kept his promise, though, not commenting on it, instead asking if there was a towel he could use and if you preferred warm or cold water.

his movements were careful, the way he held your arm gentle, and he really tried not to hurt you. you told him you didn’t have any disinfectant, nor did you have bandages, and he nodded, doing the best he could with his limited means. he apologised whenever you flinched and you were surprised by his behaviour, both because no one had ever cared to take care of you like this and because you’d expected him to be more… snarky, judging, rough, less careful and gentle, just from the way he acted in school.

“how long have you known that i do this?”

he looked up briefly, surprised that you asked, that you talked at all, but soon resumed his task.

“last year we worked together in chemistry, and i noticed when you put on the plastic gloves.”

it was your turn to be surprised now, because this had been quite the while yet he’d never said anything.

“but you didn’t tell anyone. not even me.”

he just shrugged, trying to make sure that there was no fabric left sticking to anything.

“it’s not exactly any of my business.”

objectively, he was right, but people hadn’t exactly cared about whether or not it was their business before. that was part of why you’d had to change schools when you moved out, the bullying having become unbearable.

“anywhere else?” he seemed done with his ministrations now, and there was more, but you were embarrassed. you barely knew him and you were scared that if he saw your stomach he’d change his mind and think you were gross, weak, a failure. the stomach felt worse than the arms, in a way. arms were normal, from what you knew, but the stomach seemed more off-limits to those that weren’t batshit crazy. or so you felt. and then there was the part of you that was scared he’d make it sexual, because that was what you’d expect from him.

but your silence gave you away, or at least the fact that there was more.

“can i clean the others as well? if it’s okay.”

he was way nicer than someone like you deserved, but you didn’t have it in you to not let him. the little girl inside of you that longed to be cared for, that had wanted nothing more than to be taken care of ever since you were small, was wishing for him to continue. to take care of you some more.

“it’s the stomach. here.” you pointed to your side, still hesitant to pull your sweater up enough for him to be able to clean them.

“can i see?” and when you nodded but otherwise made no attempt to move he moved to pull your shirt up a little, slowly so you could stop him if you wanted to, but you didn’t.

“you’ll have to hold up the shirt.” and you did, held it up with the more okay arm. “thank you.”

then he got back to work, cleaning you up carefully, but seemed a little uncertain once he was done.

“if you put it back down it’s just gonna get dirty again”, mingi explained the reason for his hesitation, and you nodded. you didn’t usually care much, but he’d cleaned you up so carefully that you didn’t want to mess it up again right after.

“i have those… what’s it called. tape? bandaid tape. maybe we can improvise with that, or wrap a towel around me.”

“i think a towel might do, depending on how you usually sleep. you can just keep the shirt pulled up.”

nothing to say to that, so you nodded. though you didn’t want to be alone yet. and, to your surprise, it seemed like he didn’t want to leave you alone yet, either.

“do you want to tell what happened? though maybe not in the bathroom.”

you nodded again and he handed you the towel so you could put it on your waist while you moved to the only other room you had, besides the kitchen.

“you can sit on the desk chair if you want to. sorry i can’t offer much more.” there were a few more chairs in the kitchen (two, to be precise), but seeing how you were going to sit on the bed anyway you wouldn’t need to fetch those.

“it’s no problem”, the boy told you as he pulled the chair closer to the bed, not wanting to sit on the other end of the room when you were talking. then, he asked again: “what happened?”

“it’s stupid”, you immediately tried to shoot your own pain down, tried to dismiss yourself, your hurt, but he neither tried to disagree nor did he agree. you didn’t know how he did it, but somehow he seemed to know what you needed in this moment, and that was to just be able to talk freely without anyone trying to give their own opinion.

“just tell me what’s wrong, okay?” and from the way he looked at you you might think he actually cared to hear it.

“my boyfriend left me today, but it’s so dumb to be so upset over it. but it just feels like another person that’s gotten tired of me and gotten tired of all my issues and i just… i don’t usually let anyone know anything and now that i did he literally told me it’s annoying to always have to be on edge around me and never know if something’s going to set me off and that it’s annoying how i’m always complaining and he literally left me because i’m so shit fucking annoying, he told me to my face, and- i don’t know, that just hurts.”

mingi nodded. something like that would obviously hurt, especially considering how you never let anyone know anything about you in school. you’d come there and you’d not talked to anyone, you’d not tried to made friends, and because it seemed like you didn’t want them to people didn’t try to approach you, either. he was fairly certain no one knew anything about you at all. he hadn’t even known you’d had a boyfriend. but seeing you now, hurt and hurting like this, he thought that maybe he should’ve tried, even if he was not the best company. he could understand the hurt and hiding it all, and he felt sympathy towards you, a weird kind of kinship.

“i’m sorry he did that.” he wouldn’t tell you that it was okay, or that it was just your now ex-boyfriend being an asshole, because he couldn’t know that. he couldn’t know if it would be okay, he couldn’t know if it was a one-time thing or if it was a frequent happening in your life. he didn’t want to give you empty assurances.

“i’m just tired.”

whether you meant physically or mentally not even you knew, but you were tired. incredibly so. you wanted a break from everything, you wanted to sleep and pretend you didn’t have any issues. you wanted to sleep until you didn’t have any issues. so maybe you were tired both physically and mentally - it wouldn’t be surprising considering the fact that it was currently about 4am.

“you want to sleep?”

“yeah.”

he nodded in acknowledgment.

“i guess i should leave, then.”

“i guess”, though part of you didn’t want to be alone yet. and it seemed like he didn’t feel well leaving you alone, either, because he didn’t make any attempt at moving, just sat there and looked at you.

“you don’t look like you’ll be okay”, not exactly a compliment, but it was true. you didn’t look like you’d be okay if he left you alone now.

“i guess”, because there wasn’t much more to say to that.

“do you want me to stay the night?”

mingi didn’t know why he’d asked, it had been an instinct, a random thought that had made its way out through his mouth before he could stop it.

“i guess”, and then, because you realised you didn’t sound very appreciative, “that would be nice.”

“okay”, and then he realised that you were already in your pyjamas and he was wearing the clothes he’d put on in hopes of the night ending much differently than it had now, so he added: “i’ll go get changed.”

getting changed in this context meant taking off his pants and socks along with his jewelry, so that he was left in a t-shirt and his underwear, but neither of you cared about how he looked. you’d already moved so you were laying in bed, facing the room with your bad side up, towel on your waist and another wrapped around your arm.

“can i sleep there, too? there’s not much else room”, not a critique, more a reasoning for his sudden request, and you hummed an okay as he carefully climbed into your bed.

“come here”, opening his arms so you could rest your head on his chest and your arm on his stomach, mainly due to lack of space if both of you were laying as individuals rather than a cuddling unit. it was a matter of practicality, but it made you feel a little better, the thought that there was someone who would hold you while you slept, someone who’d take care of you. so you shuffled into his hold, his hand on your hip - something that might have been suggestive if your waist hadn’t been so entirely out of the question right now -, your arm on his stomach with the towel creating a barrier between you and the fabric of his shirt.

“goodnight”, he mumbled, and you mumbled the same back at him, falling asleep in his arms and feeling surprisingly comfortable and maybe okay, even.

you hadn’t expected for him to genuinely want to spend time with you after this - you didn’t exactly fit in with him, you were the opposite of him, exterior-wise, good grades and perfect behaviour while he was the definition of trouble -, but for some reason he seemed to have taken it upon himself to be your guardian now. it surprised you and left you uncertain at first, but you slowly learned to think that maybe he wouldn’t hurt you the way everyone else had found it necessary to do. he talked to you, he spent his time with you, and though you weren’t okay yet, far from, you were at least a little better. even if just because he told you to let him take care of you when you needed him to, and because you’d been embarrassed to text him on the daily but he’d been able to tell when you did text him that there were times you hadn’t texted him you slowly started hurting yourself less, even if just to get out of the embarrassment and the feeling like a failure that came with having to admit just how often you used to do it.

you hadn’t yet told him about all your issues, though. it had only been a few weeks of talking to him and you felt that if you told him about everything that was wrong with you he’d leave, just like everyone else. if he knew about the long list of diagnoses and problems and if he knew about the past lawsuit that was the sole reason you were allowed to be by yourself right now, if he knew about your endless list of issues.

so that was how you found yourself upsetting him when you talked about your parents during a school break, letting him know you weren’t in contact with them and didn’t miss it, either.

"i wish they were dead", you told him, "they might as well be."

you meant it, too. they'd done nothing but hurt you, your father with harsh words and even harsher hands and your mother in her alcoholism that had made her pretend nothing was ever wrong even when he beat you half to death. you wished they were dead because they'd made you wish you were dead more often than you could possibly count.

but mingi didn't know that, only knew his own pain.

"take that back", glaring down at you angrily, and suddenly you could understand why everyone was scared of him. suddenly you could understand how he'd gotten the image of causing trouble and hurt even though you hadn't gotten that impression after you got to know him. but even when he was scary you wouldn't take it back, not this.

"no."

he stared you down for another moment, but you wouldn't take this back. he didn't know your pain, he didn't know what they'd put you through, and he had no right to demand of you to love them when he had no idea how unlovable they'd made you feel.

"fuck you then", and he turned around and left, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the hatred towards yourself that you were only able to ignore when he was there to make you feel like maybe you were okay. but apparently you weren't, not even to him. fuck you, then.

you didn't attempt to contact mingi after that argument. you didn't see a sense in it. he'd made it clear what he thought of you, that apparently not liking your parents was the limit for him, the inevitable limit, even though they'd never shown you any love, either, but he hadn't cared to hear that. you didn't see why you should explain now, either. he seemed to be of the type "you need to love your parents and be grateful they even let you breathe" (jokes on him, your father had far from always let you breathe), a type you neither had the patience nor the tolerance for.

what you hadn't anticipated was how much it would hurt, though. you were used to being alone before he came, but then you'd felt like you might have a friend, and now you didn't have anyone again. it hurt. it really fucking hurt. and it hurt that he didn't try to contact you, either, even though he knew how to reach you. you really were not worth anything, it seemed, not even a clearing conversation after an argument. your parents had been right, your ex had been right, everyone had been right about you. you were nothing.

and nothing didn't deserve to live.

nothing didn't deserve to go on.

nothing didn't want to go on, either.

so your first attempt at contacting mingi again was "fuck me then", a message you sent him one and a half weeks after he'd told you to go fuck yourself, and then "you won't have to deal with my bullshit anymore, don't worry", and then he got worried. really worried. so worried that he came to your place right away, even though he was still angry, as fast as he could, hoping you were there.

he rang every single doorbell, not caring about the fact that it was 11pm on a weekday, hoping someone would be pissed enough to just let him in, and he was right. he ran up the stairs to your flat, ringing your doorbell, knocking and telling you to open.

“open the fucking door or i’ll kick it in”, something he most definitely could and would, but he didn’t have to, because you opened the door, thinking that since you’d already taken the medication he wouldn’t be able to do shit anymore anyway.

but you were wrong, because he immediately saw the empty pill box on the table next to your bed and dragged you to the bathroom, in that moment not caring about your wrist or really anything, and he pulled you down with him in front of the toilet.

“your fingers or mine, but you’re going to throw this shit back up”, and when you didn’t make any attempt to move he forced your jaw open and put his fingers in until you choked, making you throw up for the first but most definitely not the last time that night.

“you can continue yourself or i keep going. but i’m not going to be soft on you”, and only because he’d proven he absolutely meant it did you lift your own hand and made the motion to let you replace his fingers in your mouth. and because you knew he wouldn’t let half-assed attempts at gagging count did you genuinely force the pills back out, with mingi leaving your side only for a moment as he fetched a glass from the kitchen and made you drink about a litre of water in the span of a few minutes, causing you to get nauseously full so you’d throw up more.

“good”, he told you, “that’s good”, continuing until there was nothing new coming, at which point he helped your weak form up, letting you clean yourself up before he joined you in your room.

“i’m staying the night, so don’t try to pull any shit. if anything weird happens, or if you try to do anything, i’m calling an ambulance, and you don’t want that, so don’t even try.”

“don’t act like you suddenly care”, you spat out at him, angry that he dared to force you to stay when he hadn’t cared about how you were feeling the past week.

“i don’t act like i suddenly care”, he spat back, “i act like i care ever since your sorry ass called me at 3am when i wanted to go out and party to take care of you because your boyfriend broke up. i act like that’s when i first cared. now go to bed.”

but you weren’t letting him go this easily.

“for someone that cares you sure didn’t act like it when i didn’t act the way you wanted me to. boo hoo, i don’t like my parents, enough reason to tell me to fuck myself and not talk to me again after. probably wouldn’t even have noticed i’d be missing if i hadn’t texted you. i shouldn’t have fucking done that, anyway.”

“shut up”, he hissed, “shut up right now. guess i don’t like it when someone that still has their parents tells me they wish their parents were dead when i’d give anything for my parents to scold me even just one more time, to tell me to do my homework or whatever shit your parents did to make you annoyed. guess i’d rather have annoying parents than dead parents.”

“oh my fucking god”, not caring about his revelation in that moment because you were angry and you couldn’t believe he thought you wanted your parents dead over homework.

“when your dad beats you till you can’t breathe and your ribs damn near tear your lungs and all your mum does is drink herself into a half-coma because she’s sick of dealing with this shit so you’re left calling an ambulance for yourself when you can barely still talk then you can tell me again how i shouldn’t want my parents dead. my parents fucking want me dead, i think it’s just fair i want the same for them.”

and now he was silent. he hadn’t known this, he hadn’t known the kind of baggage you’d carried with you, he’d never even asked why you lived by yourself. part of him had forgotten that moving out of a foster home as soon as you were eighteen wasn’t everyone’s reality, that most students lived with their parents until they started higher education and some even then.

“fuck” was all he found himself able to say, and you scoffed.

“yeah, fuck. now leave me alone.”

but he wouldn’t do that, not after what had happened that night.

“if you think i’ll leave you alone now you’re stupid. i’m staying, as i said, and don’t try to pull any shit.”

“i guess”, because you realised he wouldn’t leave you alone at least for the night.

“i’ll get changed, you go to bed.”

there was puke on your pyjamas and you weren’t about to have that, so you picked out a new pair, but he stopped you before you went to the bathroom.

“i go there, you get dressed here. you’re not locking yourself in anywhere.”

sighing exaggeratedly exasperatedly you nodded, doing as he’d told you, and he took the chance to strip himself of most his clothes as well, leaving him to come back in only his underwear, but you just looked at him for a moment with an eyebrow quirked if you knew how to do that before you moved to lay down in bed, enough room next to you for him to fit in as well.

“here we go again”, you said with a tone that was a weird mixture of annoyed and relieved, glad to not have to be alone, glad that he cared even if his words had been so harsh, and he sighed.

“i’d prefer if i didn’t have to sleep over because you’re an emotional wreck, though.”

“i didn’t make you”, you countered, turning away from him because you felt like he was annoyed with your unstable state, much like everyone else had always been, but he wasn’t. he was worried, of course, but he wasn’t annoyed.

“i know, but that’s kind of what happens when you care about someone. you do things even without physical force”, he told you, his arm wrapped around your waist lightly from behind, unsure about if you were hurting anywhere and not wanting to make it worse.

“you don’t care”, trying to be snide, but your voice gave you away, gave away that you feared this rather than you not caring about whether he cared about you or not.

“i just said i do.”

"doesn't convince me when you've ignored me for more than a week."

"it's not ignoring if you don't even try to talk to me", he tried to… what? defend himself? not really, he was mainly upset that you wouldn't believe him.

"oh, so that's how it goes? sorry, i thought the one that tells someone to go fuck themselves is the one to come and apologise, i didn't know it was my job to make the first move", and you were bitter, too, still not looking at him.

"i didn't exactly feel like begging for forgiveness when i was angry", he said, and "maybe you shouldn't have been angry" you replied, to which he couldn't say more than "maybe not".

"i want to sleep", you let him know, but he wasn't having it.

"you're not sleeping yet. i'm going to keep you up until i can be sure you're not going to die in your sleep, no matter what i have to do to keep you awake."

"kiss me then", turning around to suddenly face him when you hadn't tried to face him before.

"what?" completely taken aback by your suggestion. not that he didn't want to, because he did, but he didn't feel like this was the right circumstances.

"you heard me."

he had. so he kissed you, softly at first because he didn't know what you had planned, but it quickly turned hungrier, mainly through your movements, and suddenly your groped him and he gasped into the kiss, and soon after he was whining in your touch, and soon after that he went to the bathroom to clean himself up and you went to the bathroom to clean your hands up and when you came back he was facing the wall.

"mingi…", you started, but he didn't feel like talking about it, now or ever, because for the first time in history it was the bad boy who cared more about something that was just a quick handjob to the perfect student, and he didn't like the feeling at all. he didn't like that this was pretty much his first sexual experience, and he was angry he'd let it come so far. so instead of hearing what you had to say he just ignored that it had ever happened.

"sleep", with a sharpness in his voice he hadn't intended but couldn't be made to correct right now, not when his heart hurt the way it did.

and even though he'd been the one to tell you to stay awake earlier now he was telling you to sleep, and you realised you might have just ruined a friendship you were trying so hard to build up again.

the next morning was awkward, he told you it was a mistake - if he told you you wouldn’t have to tell him, and that would hurt less -, and after that you didn’t talk again, and this time you knew it was your fault. and because it was your fault you took to punishing yourself again, though you hadn’t expected to get so sloppy with hiding it. you didn’t even know how on earth it had happened, but you assumed your bag got somehow entangled with your sleeve as you tried to throw it over your shoulder and suddenly your arm was out for everyone to see. and while you tried to hide it immediately, someone noticed, a classmate you’d never talked to much but that you didn’t think you liked, too fake for you.

“jesus, y/n, what’s wrong?”, with that sickly sweet worried voice you knew she only put on to be a good person rather than because she meant it.

“leave me alone”, you mumbled, and there it was, the change in attitude, as she proclaimed loudly: “so you’re gonna show it for the world to see and then not want to talk about it? just say you’re doing it for the mysterious hurt girl factor and go.”

in that moment you felt your world come crashing down, the accusations all too familiar for you. you’re doing it for the attention, you’re doing it to be mysterious, you don’t even have a real reason because your grades are good, all these people trying to tell you what you could and couldn’t be feeling, all these people psychoanalysing someone they knew nothing about.

except for mingi, who, to your surprise, came to be your saviour.

“leave her the fuck alone”, and because people in school hadn’t seen his soft side when he took care of you they were immediately intimidated, as was this girl, so she left.

“thanks”, you mumbled, not really daring to look at him but unsure where else to look.

“it’s fine”, though he wasn’t exactly looking at you either.

“i’m going home”, you let him know, despite not really knowing why you did that. you didn’t expect him to care.

but he surprised you.

“i’m coming with you”, mingi told you matter-of-factly, and you didn’t have it in you to protest. you hoped you’d finally get to talk.

although that wasn’t his first intention, telling you to go to the bathroom as soon as you were at your place. you knew this meant he’d take care of you now, but you weren’t sure if you wanted him to. you wanted to sleep, maybe, and you definitely wanted to talk, but you didn’t want him to see how messed up you were from not talking to him again and from knowing you’d fucked up.

“the arm. anywhere else?”

“how many days back are still worth taking care of?”, because the more days he told you the more he’d have to take care of, you having developed a near-addiction to punishing yourself for everything that ever went wrong in your life but mainly for driving away the one person that had actually cared.

“let’s start with two, and depending on how those look we’ll see.”

you nodded and started stripping yourself of your pants - your legs were the main victim -, then pulled up both sleeves, and mingi gulped. it was… bad. and he’d make you talk about it, now.

“okay. wait here, i’ll get everything.”

as soon as he had he started his ministrations, taking care of you the way he always did, gentle and careful.

“what’s all this for?”, he asked you, because this time it would’ve been your turn to apologise, by your logic, because you’d been the one to make a mistake this time. this time, he’d been valid in ignoring you. unless you’d changed the game rules.

“i couldn’t stand looking at myself after i… did that.”

he nodded - he’d felt similarly.

“but you didn’t apologise.”

“i know. i was too ashamed to talk to you.”

“then why’d you do it in the first place?”, he asked the question that had been on his mind ever since, even though it had only been like five days. he had barely thought of anything else whenever his thoughts wandered.

“i wanted to be something special”, you admitted. “i was desperate and hurt and i wanted to be something special.”

he couldn’t believe it. that was why? really?

“so you hand-fucked me because you wanted to be special? congrats on succeeding, i guess.”

he sounded bitter even though you’d kind of laid out one of your insecurities for him - never being anything special, being anything worth remembering, never being anything that mattered -, so you reacted with passive-aggressiveness.

“don’t act like it’s anything special or new for you. i’m probably just one in a long row of people to do that.”

maybe he shouldn’t get angry now because you were most definitely insecure, but you’d fucked up majorly because of these insecurities and he wasn’t having it right now.

“big fucking surprise, but you’re the first person to ever touch me there like that. so you’re special, goal achieved. it would’ve just been nice for me if i’d been special, too, but it seems like you can’t always get what you want.”

“oh”, realising your mistake the way he’d realised his when you’d told him just why you hated your parents so much. realising that you’d assumed something about him based on your own thoughts and fears and now you’d really fucked up, except you couldn’t take it back and probably couldn’t make up for it, either.

“yeah, oh.”

he turned around now, not wanting to look at you anymore, and that was maybe the worst part of it. because he was special to you, but you might never be able to convince him of that now.

“mingi…”, you tried again, much like that night where you’d fucked up so incredibly much, and this time he couldn’t tell you to sleep.

“i’m cleaning this and then i’m gone. you know how to reach me if you need something, but don’t try if you don’t.”

he was angry and he was hurt, you could tell. you didn’t have much of a choice - if you didn’t want him to really leave your life, if you wanted to have any chance at saving things, you’d have to come clean about how you felt.

“i need you.”

he’d had only a couple of seconds to continue cleaning your arm before your words froze him in shock. your behaviour had been pretty hot and cold with him, but he hadn’t expected you to say this either way, not even during one of the phases where you did genuinely seem like you cared about him and about having him there.

“let me clean you up. let me think.”

he really did need the time to think, too, so he continued taking care of you like that very first night you’d talked, completely silent this time, and when he was done he still wasn’t exactly sure what to do. because he wasn’t sure he decided to talk to you, see what you meant, see if maybe things were worth trying again, at least trying to be friends.

he moved to sit on your desk chair once he was done, leaving you to sit on the bed half-naked because again you didn’t want to ruin his efforts. then you stared at each other, unsure what to say or do, until you started again.

“i need you, mingi”, you said quietly, shyly, scared of his reaction.

“you didn’t act like it.”

“i know i messed up, and i’m sorry, but… you can see i regret it.”

part of you wanted to hold out your arms, but you weren’t stupid like that, weren’t going to think that telling him that you punished yourself for hurting him was something to show off.

“i guess.”

it wasn’t mingi’s intention to sound as cold as he did, he was more overwhelmed than angry, but you looked away from him as if he’d insulted you, as if he’d been the one to hurt you.

“you said it’s a mistake”, you started again, “and i think so, too, that the circumstances were bad, but… at least kissing you, that wasn’t desperation, that wasn’t a mistake. or, asking you to do it was, in that moment, but not doing it. that was because i like you.”

you hated having to say it, but you hated the thought of losing him even more, and if your revelation would make him realise that he was special to you maybe it was worth it, maybe it was okay. and if it wasn’t, at least you’d tried. at least you hadn’t kept it to yourself, how you felt, at least you’d told him all you could to make him realise that he hadn’t just been anyone, someone that just so happened to be there. that things had happened the way they had because it was him and because you cared about him.

“you like me”, repeating as if he couldn’t believe his ears. maybe he couldn’t, actually, because he hadn’t expected it at all. with the way you’d been acting he really hadn’t thought that you’d like him, not as more than a friend, at least.

“yeah. i’m sorry.”

he avoided looking at you, trying to think of what to say; part of him was still angry, but another, small part of him was relieved to hear that you liked him, even if it made what had happened only a little bit better.

“you could’ve just said something”, he told you, “instead of doing that.”

“and have you laugh at me? no thanks, i was already doing bad enough. it wasn’t like you were even talking to me anymore anyway.”

he couldn’t disagree with at least the latter part of that, though he wouldn’t have laughed at you, of course not. he’d hurt people in the past, but never with purposeful malice. he’d just externalised his hurt because it was so much easier than dealing with it by yourself.

“i wouldn’t have laughed at you. i thought you knew me better than that.”

“i don’t fucking know anyone!”, you suddenly burst out, “i think i know people and then they hurt me because i’m too fucked up, they decide i’m not worth it, and i’m left all by myself again. you literally did that, too, ignored me for days on end because you were angry with me over something you didn’t even have context for. you really think i’d tell someone how i feel when it’s only good for fucking me up even more when people know anything about me?”

“i didn’t want to hurt you”, and now for some reason it was him apologising, because part of him could understand how you felt - he hadn’t exactly told you how he felt, either.

“but you did.”

“i know”, quietly, but he was looking at you with genuine eyes, “but you hurt me too.”

“i know”, and then you were silent, just looking at each other but averting your eyes as soon your gazes met.

“what now?”, you finally asked after seconds, minutes, hours of silence, time passing weirdly for the two of you.

“i don’t know.”

mingi really didn’t, had no idea what to do now, but he knew you had to do something. even if just to agree that you wouldn’t talk again, to agree that situations like these had to be avoided. although he didn’t want that to be the conclusion you’d come to, but he’d accept it if it were the decision you’d make.

“what do you want? if you don’t want to ever talk to me again that’s easy and we can stop staring at each other awkwardly.”

“do you still want to talk to me?”, a question he needed an answer to before he’d be able to think about what he wanted.

“of course i do. i just told you i need you, mingi.”

he nodded slowly, biting his lip with more force than he maybe should have, thinking and trying to figure out how he felt, trying to figure out what he wanted, how he wanted to continue. he cared about you, he did, and he wanted to keep talking to you and he wanted to be there for you and he wanted to be your friend and maybe more, but he didn’t want you to use him to get over your own pain ever again. he didn’t want you to cause him pain just because you were in pain. he didn’t want you to hurt him, and he didn’t want to hurt you, either. he just wanted for things to be okay, as okay as they could be when two deeply flawed and incredibly hurt people came together and tried to make things work.

“don’t fuck up again. if you try that again that’s it. i’m not some toy for you to get out your frustrations or insecurities, so don’t treat me like one.”

harsh words, but he did what he did best - guarding his soft heart through a harsh exterior.

“i won’t”, you promised, staring at your hands that were interlaced in your lap, trying to refrain from picking at your scabs even though it was so tempting.

“sit here and hold my hands, please. it’s hard to concentrate when i could pick around at everything.”

he did as asked, sitting down next to you and taking your hands in his, nervously fiddling with your fingers because he wasn’t as cool as he pretended to be.

“what do you want?”

what did you want, actually? you wanted him, but in what way, to what extent?

“i don’t want you to ignore me” was the only real thing you could tell him. but maybe it was enough; maybe you could figure out the rest together from there.

“then don’t give me a reason to”, he replied, a pretty obvious reply, but he didn’t know what to say either.

he continued speaking, though, letting out how he actually felt: “i’m not as tough as i seem. i’ve been through enough shit, i don’t want my friends to be a reason for even more. i don’t want you to hurt me when you’re supposed to be someone that cares about how i feel. when you’re kind of supposed to make me feel better when someone else makes me feel like shit.”

“i’m sorry”, quietly, trying to squeeze his hands even though he was holding yours, “i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“did it even mean anything to you, though? or was it just a distraction.”

“in the moment i didn’t think enough. i didn’t plan on things escalating the way they did, i just wanted to feel like you care, i guess. but it didn’t mean nothing. it was the wrong circumstances, but it did mean something. i’m sorry, that’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s not fair to you if i’d lie.”

to your surprise, though, he didn’t seem upset by this.

“i know that it wasn’t a big romantic gesture. would’ve been kind of fucked up if it were. i was just scared you would’ve done the same thing if anyone else had been there. that it wasn’t about me at all.”

“no”, you immediately protested, “definitely not. fucked up as it sounds, i did it because i like you, though i probably should’ve done literally anything else about that. but it was about you. now can we please change the topic because i still feel really shitty about it and i don’t want to talk about it any more than absolutely necessary.”

“you like me”, he repeated much like the first time you’d told him that you did, in disbelief.

“i do.”

you were unsure of what else to say to him - there wasn’t much more to say other than letting him know that yes, you did like him.

“like-like or friend-like?”

as if he genuinely needed to ask.

“like-like. and friend-like. but i like-like you.”

“so we’re friends”, he started, and you felt your heart sink because for a moment you’d genuinely had hope that he like-liked you too, but then he continued and your heart was in your throat, “and you like-like me and i like-like you, so… what do we do about that?”

“we can kiss about that”, you told him, “or hold hands about that. or whatever you want to do about that.”

your words sounded confident, but your voice was silent, very much not like that night you’d demanded he kiss you, and maybe it was because of that that he kissed you again even though part of him was scared you’d make him regret it again.

being kissed surprised you, even though you’d been the one to suggest it, but your hands and mouth had a mind of their own as you tried to pull him closer by the hair and kissed him as if your life depended on it, but then he broke the kiss and you were scared he was going to think you didn’t actually care about him based on how desperately you’d kissed him, so now it was you who leaned in, kissing him again but much more sweetly this time.

“okay”, mingi told you as you broke the kiss, though not even he was sure what he was replying to.

“okay”, you echoed, about as unsure about everything as could be.

“you like-like me”, although it sounded more like a question than a statement, so you nodded, “and i like-like you”, not a question this time.

“how about we date about that?”

a reply you couldn’t really fathom, a reply that took you aback, so you just stared at him wide-eyed. it wasn’t exactly romantic, but had anything been when it came to the two of you, really? maybe that was just how things went with you.

“you should at least say no if you think it’s a stupid idea”, he brought you back to reality, seeming insecure about his proposal now, but he didn’t have to be, not once you realised he was serious.

“let’s date about that.”

and this time kissing wasn’t prompted by you saying anything but by him wanting to, by him thinking that if he didn’t kiss you right then he might never get the chance to do it again, for some reason, scared that he’d miss his chance at actually getting to date you if he didn’t act on your words right in that moment. so he kissed you, desperately at first and then softer, and in that moment you felt like things weren’t so bad, maybe. you were dating now.

and you were dating the next day, too, and the day after, for several weeks, trying to help each other heal. neither of you was really able to believe it, not yet, but the other had sparked the hope that maybe you’d be okay. maybe, eventually, both of you would be okay, together.

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sunflowersseemhappy · 4 years ago

Note

can i get a hc for the main six at the beach with a female MC pls

Here we are, sorry (to whoever sent the request) it took a couple of days to get this one done as I’ve made it a policy to do them in order of when I receive them! To anyone else waiting on a request please don’t worry as I will fulfil them :)

I’m taking a two-day break as I need to prep for my D&D group but will be back Wednesday for some new requests! Please don’t hesitate to request and keep it real ya’ll!

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Asra

It is a hot summers day and there’s not a cloud in the sky, you and Asra are travelling the southern coasts, and baking in the process. Even Faust is complaining about the heat, so Asra suggests a nice long soak in the ocean which sounds heavenly.

Relieving himself of his shirt, scarf, and shoes, he is left only in loose gypsy pants. Asra’s chest glows in the sun and you watch as he dives into the water from an outcrop of rocks.

You stumble out of most of your clothes to join him, Faust wrapped loose around your neck as you slide into the water and splash Asra playfully in the face.

Swimming in the water with Asra is so relaxing that you almost fall asleep on top of the surface, the sun flashing on your face.

When you are lying there on the surface of the water Asra will stand above you, water dripping from his hair onto your face. Once you finally open your eyes, he will lean carefully down to kiss you on the face, his hair tickling your nose.

A lot of the day consists of lounging around and talking, the two of you never seem to run out of conversation topics and the beach is secluded and quiet *suggestive wink*.

At the end of the day Asra’s hair takes almost half the beach with it. Just when the two of you think you have finally got all the sand out, more appears. He is not complaining though, because you touching his scalp sends shivers down his spine.

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Nadia

You have to practically drag Nadia out of the palace, she’s worked so hard and needs the break. Even still when you arrive, she is constantly worrying over what is happening back in Vesuvia.

Determined to make her relax you gently force her to sit in a lounge chair, prop a parasol into the sand and hand her an ice-cold drink. Although a bit confused, she sits back and slowly begins to unwind.

When she sees you diving under the water’s surface Nadia wonders what you’re doing, looking up from her book she’s noticed you haven’t come up for some time…

Leaping up she begins to shed the layers of her dress, primed to leap in to rescue you, but your head then bobs to the surface with a grin on your face. Noticing her there you hold up a perfect conch shell. “I got you a shell!”, you don’t understand why her face has gone red.

Seeing as she has now stripped down Nadia quickly enters the water after placing your gift safely aside (promising herself to put it right by her bedside), she asks you to show her how you found such a beautiful shell.

You spend the rest of the afternoon diving down into the waters until she finds the prettiest shell she can. Small and petite she hands it to you, but your face drops as you turn it over and she worriedly asks if something is wrong with it.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, except…” turning it around you show her the small hermit crab poking its head out of the opening, she never realised such creatures existed. You laugh it off, as you place the crab down into the water “it is lovely, but I think this little fella needs it more than I do.”

Nadia laughs too and places a kiss on your cheek, “I’ll find you another one…”

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Julian

Stopping off at an island port, Julian suggests a walk along the beach front as you wait for the ship to stock up and resupply. The two of you walk barefoot along the sand and you comment how nice the water looks, a devilish thought crosses Julian’s mind.

“Then how about a nice swim?” Before you can even register what he said, Julian traps you in his arms and runs with you screaming and wriggling towards the end of a dock. Throwing you and himself into the water.

You give him the death glare but laugh it off all the same, as you tread water and grab him, giving him a fierce kiss… and then dunk his head under the water.

Laughing and wrestling against one another, the two of you slowly transition to diving deep toward the reef lining the beach. Sharks, turtles, fish, all manner of creatures come to check you out.

Out of nowhere Julian appears with a large red lobster in hand, its pincers snapping the air as he chases you around with the creature. “Dinner is served!”

Exiting the water sopping wet in your clothes, Julian rolls onto the sand with his trademark smirk as you sit next to him. Dragging you down to kiss you once more and rolling you beneath him in the sand.

Then you notice the position of the sun, “Julian we’re late…”

“Late for what?” “Maz’s boat it about to set sail!”

The two of you leg it along the beach, before you become castaways…

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Muriel

When you suggested going fishing, this is not what Muriel had in mind. Sitting hunched over with a line resting in his hands, he watches as you and Inanna splash around with one another. Water sparkling in the air as you chase his wolf companion around.

Apart from your undergarment’s you are bare skinned and already covered in water, seeing him watching you wave and smile at him, making him blush.

He notices you whisper in Inanna’s ear but resumes trying to catch a fish. Sneakily the soaked wolf pads over and promptly shakes out her fur, splattering Muriel with water and making you laugh at his scowl.

Catching your eye, the corner of Muriel’s mouth tips upward and he winds in the fishing line. Making his way onto the sand and letting his large cloak fall, revealing his bare chest and causing your own cheeks to redden slightly as he steps closely toward you into the water.

Water up to your knees, he gives you a rare smirk lifts a foot, then brings it quickly down, drenching you with the spray. Chuckling softly, he wraps his large arms around you and lifts you up to kiss you gently on the lips as he wades deeper into the water.

At the end of the day the two of you sit on the beach watching the sun go down. Although he doesn’t quite get it, Muriel lets you pile up sand on his legs as you shape it into the shape of a fish tail and laugh at the thought of a merman Muriel.

Needless to say, you never actually caught any fish to have for dinner that night.

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Portia

After Portia told you about this nice little beach just outside of Vesuvia, you insisted the two of you should go and make a day out of it, packing a hearty picnic and setting off.

The two of you discover a small village next to the beach where a vendor sells something called ice cream… both of you fall in love with it and Portia insists the two of you have to try make it one day (with your magic and her cooking skills how hard could it be?)

Once on the beach you settle down to eat, before long Portia is piling up sand to make a model of the palace, with the inclusion of a moat and a mini yourself, Portia and Pepi. It’s little more than a crumbling pile of sand but you love the effort that goes into it.

Before the sandcastle falls down you use your magic to keep it up and compress it into something that closely resembles the castle in Vesuvia. You also include a little model of Portia’s cottage, which she adores wishing she could pick it up and take it back home.

As you lounge on the beach, Portia is splashing in the shallows finding shells and sea glass to get creative with. Seeing you relaxed and unaware she cheekily hurls some water your way, shocking you from your nap.

You simply smirk and command magic to your fingers. Who’s to say if that giant rouge wave that hit Portia in the back was a fluke of nature or the command of a magician?

Snuggled up in towels you watch as dolphins skim the surface of the water and sigh in contentment as you kiss one another.

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Lucio

Lucio and the beach, don’t mix well, as you soon find out.

He complains about the sand getting everywhere and how dirty the water must be (despite it being blue and translucent), you just roll your eyes and think about the perfect plan to get him to love the beach…

You start simple, digging into the sand with your fingers you begin to draw his likeness with great care, that piques his interest at the very least. He gets slightly offended when the waves wash over it later into the day.

Thinking it over you receive a spike of brilliance, tossing off your clothes with only your undergarments to cover your form. You bring out a long board, guiding it into the water and sitting astride it you wait for the perfect moment and begin riding it along the waves.

Even Lucio has never seen anything like it and watches as you shakily stand and promptly fall into the waves. That in itself is enough to make him rise from his seat as he waits for you to come back up, except you don’t.

Not quite sure what to do he begins to stride into the water searching the waves, you pop up next to him smiling. “Gotcha!”

Annoyed he begins making his way toward the beach before you stop him and gesture to the surfboard, “why don’t you give it a try?” Unimpressed he turns back, “or are you chicken?”

Needless to say, he wasn’t going to leave the beach until he could surf, he won’t admit it but that was the best day he ever had and to thank you he gave you a promising kiss.

#the arcana #the arcana game #asra #nadia #julian #portia #lucio #muriel #request #beach #prompt #ask

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kpop---scenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Just Love Me

Yandere! Kino

Warning: Constains Only YANDERE content.

Commissioned by: @lmaoskz

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This is purely fictional, in no way do I believe an idol would act like this.

You were a good girl. You got good grades in College, you had good friends. You were responsible when you went out and only drank to your limit of where you know you're still able to function. Never, not once have you ever done beyond what you could handle, which is why it didn't make sense tonight that you were so fucked up when you had only had 3 drinks so far.

Usually when you went out, you were good up until 7 or 8 drinks, depending how you were feeling on that particular night. And tonight you were feeling great.

You were, until now.

Your friends had wandered off to the dance floor, leaving you to man the drinks and the table in the relatively crowded club. It was nothing new, the clubs in the Itaewon district were always almost over crowded, packed full of people always wanting something from someone.

You felt hazy as you slid out of the booth. The bartender must have put far too much alcohol in your drinks, made them doubles or triples. There was no other explanation. The friends you had were the ones you were here with, the girls you had known since middle school. You didn't really socialize with anyone else and they would never have paid for you to get extra in your drinks.

As you stumble through the double doors, you're hit by the warm night time air. It's still hot out, the humidity practically slaps you in the face.

"Miss, are you okay?" A man asks as you stumble past him.

"I'm fine. I just need to get.." you trail off, stumbling down the back alley.

"Ahh, there you are." A males voice whispers from behind you. "I've been looking for you." He says. You feel his hands gripping your arms tightly as he pulls you back into his chest.

"What.. who.." you mumble, unable to finish your sentence.

"Shh baby, it's okay." The man coos.

"I'm not your baby!" You yell, trying to wiggle yourself out of his hold.

"Everything okay here?" A group of men ask as they walk by.

"Oh yes, just a fight with my girlfriend, it's fine." He chuckles.

"I'm not your girlfriend!" You cry. "Help me, I don't know this man." You scream.

The men stop walking, turning to the man whose hands were still holding onto you tightly.

"This true?" One asks, as they walk closer to you.

"I.." the man stutters before releasing you by pushing you forward and taking off. A few of the men chase after him, while two others stay behind to help you up from the fall.

They helped you home, only after you assured them multiple times you didn't want to go to the police, you just wanted to sleep. Nothing could have been done, you didn't even see his face.

Unfortunately for you, that was only your first encounter with Kino.

You didn't drink for a while after that.

Kino noticed the dramatic change in your weekend schedule very quickly. He had watched you go to the same club every Friday and Saturday for the last 9 months. He watched you be extremely careful with your drinks, only ever drinking a certain amount, never going home with anyone. That was one thing he absolutely loved about you. You weren't promiscuous like the other girls he had seen, like your friends. They went home with whatever or whoever they could grab by the end of the night and left you to walk home alone. Although you were never truly alone. Kino always took it upon himself to follow you home, always staying a few feet behind you, staying outside your apartment until you were safely inside. He watched your light turn on and off quickly. He smiled imagining you curled up in your bed. Oh how he wished to be next to you, holding you, rubbing your head as you fell asleep in his arms.

One day.

On his way home he began thinking about the first time he saw you. He was waiting in line at a little coffee shop. As he waited he looked around and that's when he noticed you. You were sitting at a table completely immersed in a book. He loved the way your eyebrow furred when you weren't sure if you liked something, or when the small corners of your mouth turned up when you tried to hide your smile.

God he just loved you. You were his perfect woman, all he's ever wanted.

The only problem was you didn't want him. He had already tried to get you the traditional way, well sort of. He had approached you one day telling you how beautiful he thought you were and asked for your number.

You said no.

That was a small shot to his ego.

So he gave you another chance.

You still said no. He began to get a little irritated. He would make you the happiest woman in the world and you were denying him for no fucking reason.

When you told him to leave you alone or you'd report him, that just really hurt his heart.

But it didn't turn him off of you. Oh no, not you. It only made him want you more.

And he would have you, even if he had to drag you away and tie you up.

He decided to let you sleep tonight, one last night in your bed and he would take you tomorrow. He was already ready for you. He had a bed, dresser, clothes, everything you could need, for when you were good and could be trusted. Until then, he had his other room for you ready. Dark, damp and musty. He had a chair set in the middle of the room with restraints for your ankles and your wrists. A gag to keep you quiet, he was set.

He didn't want to hurt you though. He just knew that you would put up a fight and he needed to make sure you couldn't get out until he had you fully broken.

Only then, only when you're a shell of who you were and completely obedient to him would he allow you to roam the apartment freely.

As the weeks went on, you couldn't help but get the overwhelming feeling that you were being watched. Your stomach was constantly in knots as you peeked over your shoulder every time you walked anywhere. You couldn't live with the constant fear, so you joined a small two day self defense class.

When the last class ended, you felt sad. You enjoyed the feeling of being in control and having the power, so you enrolled yourself into an evening class at your local community centre. And as usual, you have no luck this day, the first day of your class. You being late to your class causes you to have to park the furthest away from the centre, closer to the tree line which makes you even more uncomfortable. Shaking off the feeling, you quickly begin to walk to the class, passing by a man walking through the parking lot, hood up with a ball cap covering his face, as well as another man trying to carry boxes with a cast on his left arm.

You felt terrified those 3 seconds it took to pass by him, once you did, you broke out into a sprint to make it to the building as fast as you could.

You didn't feel relieved.

You tried your best to pay attention, but the looming feeling of someone staring at you, watching your every move was very apparent. You felt uneasy in a space that was supposed to make you feel safe and empowered, but at the moment you felt weak and vulnerable.

After the longest two hours, the class finally ended and somehow you ended up being the last person out of the building. Your stomach was tight and in knots, your palms sweaty as you grip your key between both your fingers. You had listened to far too many murder podcasts, not to mention you had watched everything on Ted Bundy's slick ass.

You walk fast through the parking lot, your eyes scanning your surroundings while also keeping them trained on your car. You can hear heavy breathing from behind you, footsteps quickening. Maybe it's all in your mind? You began pressing the unlock button incessantly, keeping yourself reassured your car would be unlocked when you got there.

Your hand is on the handle to open your door when you feel a small prick in the side of your neck along with an arm wrapping around your body.

"Shh baby. I've got you now. I'll take care of you forever." A voice whispers as you fall asleep despite your protests.

Your eyes slowly begin to flutter open, adjusting to the heavy darkness that is surrounding you. You try to move but you can't, your arms are bound behind you, behind a chair, your legs tightly tied to the legs of the chair.

Your mouth is tightly covered with duct tape, you can barely breathe from your nose. As much as you try you're unable to see any of your surroundings. You try to listen for something, car horns, people talking but nothing. All you hear is the sound of a slow drip on a tap. A sound that you know has the possibility of driving you insane.

You attempt to flex your muscles, wiggle your wrists and ankles in any way to try to free yourself from this nightmare you're now experiencing.

You're wildly unsuccessful.

Knock

"Are we awake yet?" You hear a voice call through the door. You can't answer. Instead you try to move as much as you could to make a noise, any noise.

Which you did. You jolted too much in your chair causing it to tip you over onto the hard, cold concrete floor. As you laid there agonizing, you heard whoever was out there unlock at least 4 different locks in a hurry to get to you.

The door opens allowing ample amounts of blinding sunlight into the room. The most you can see is the silhouette of a man rushing towards you, kneeling beside you to lift you up and check you over.

"Baby, are you okay?" He asks worriedly.

"Baby?" You wonder. You didn't hit your head that hard to have a sort of boyfriend you didn't remember. The man reaches up, pulling off the tape as gently as he could.

"Are you okay?" He asks again, your vision slowly becoming clearer.

"Who are you?" You ask, panicking.

"I'm the love of your life! You just need time to catch up to where I am, that's why you're in here. Don't worry, just do everything I tell you and behave and you'll be out of here in no time. I promise, baby!" He smiles.

You stare at this semi familiar man with wide eyes, his eyes urgently waiting for your response.

"Somebody help me! I'm trapped in a closet! Please help me!" You scream as loud as you could.

"Shut the fuck up!" He hisses, fumbling to get the tape back on your mouth. Once he does, he stands up backing away and placing his hand on the door. "Maybe tomorrow you'll be a little more fucking appreciative." He snaps, leaving you alone in the dark yet again.

After three months of Kino's torture, you had finally given up fighting him and instead complied with his wishes. You agreed to everything he said, only spoke when you were spoken too, did everything he asked of you. He thought he had you. He thought he had broken you into being the perfect woman for him, without everything that made you, you.

But he hadn't. You were stronger than that. You were only doing what you needed to do to survive. You needed time, time to formulate a plan of escape and be able to do it successfully the first time because you knew in your heart there's no way you would get a second chance at an escape.

For three months you planned. You watched his routine which was relatively the same each day. You had one plan that you knew might work in your favor the best. Around 2pm every day, Kino goes out for an hour and locks the door before he leaves, but he also turns to you and tells you he loves you everyday. And everyday you avoid eye contact and stay silent, but today you were going to surprise him.

"Okay baby. You be a good girl." Kino smiles. You smile back.

"Yes sir." You say.

Kino opens the door, turning his head to look at you before he closes it. "I love you."

He begins closing the door.

"I love you too." You breathe, your stomach nervous. The door halts as Kino looks at you with wide eyes.

"You do?" He exclaims.

"Of course." You say, forcing the tears back down.

"We are celebrating when I get home!" He says smiling widely before closing the door.

You sit there, holding your breath as you wait for it. You wait for the sound of Kino locking the doors.

But it doesn't come.

It worked. He didn't lock the door.

You ran to the front door, not worrying about shoes or anything, you had no idea how long it would take for Kino to remember his mistake.

The smile on Kino's face was too big as he walked out of the building and down the sidewalk. He now had little bounce in his step because you said it. You told him you loved him back and he was over the moon.

"She loves me. She really loves me." He laughs. Kino replays the moment in his head over and over again and that's when he realizes.

He stops in his tracks. He didn't lock the door.

Shit! Fuck, hopefully you hadn't noticed. He quickly turns around running back to the apartment, hoping you were still there.

He gets onto the elevator, frantically pressing the button to his floor.

The second the doors open he sees a barefoot down the hallway turning a corner as soon as he gets off.

Kino races down the hall, briefly glancing at his door which is left wide open. He picks up his pace, following where he had seen you.

The emergency stairs door closes just as Kino rounds the corner. Smart of you not to wait for an elevator.

"Y/N! Stop!" Kino growls, jumping over many stairs to try to catch you.

You're quick but unfortunately for you Kino was much quicker than you. With your hand on the handle to open the door to the lobby, you try to pull it open but it's stuck. Behind you you can hear heavy breathing. Looking up you see a hand on the door holding it closed.

"Please." You cried as Kino snatched a chunk of your hair. His jaw was clenched as he began dragging you back upstairs.

"You said you loved me!" He yells.

"I do. I'm sorry I just wanted to see my family." You cry as he pulls you up the stairs.

"I am your fucking family. You don't need anyone else besides me!" He screams.

Once the two of you get to his floor, he stands you up, holding onto your body tightly to walk down the hallway looking relatively normal. The two of you stand in front of his door before he pushes you inside.

"You'll love me soon enough." He smiles as he walks in, closing and locking the door behind him.

#pentagon scenarios #pentagon kino #pentagon fanfic #yandere pentagon #kino #kang #hyung-gu #kang hyunggu #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop yandere #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop kino #pentagon imagines #pentagon writing

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advernia · 4 years ago

Text

fic: to be cold like alleyway cobblestones

— just one of the many joys of being young and murderous. - mafia!au: of the things people do in the dead of night.

1: contains death + violence; the former's depicted in one scene only + the latter's all non-graphic, but still tread lightly.

Where are you?

It's not like you wanted to be here, it's more of you had to be here. Yes, here of all places, surrounded by piles of boxes and barrels and warehouses of years know how old. To be drenched in fog and to breathe in the seawater air, rusting copper and thick smoke that passes through your nose now clinging to the back of your throat.

Somewhere in the darkness and under the sickly yellowish lighting there's the shuffle of clothing and thump of shoes on cement. How many are there, it's hard to tell. Your eyes and ears aren't trained for this sort of night life. In fact, not a single part of you is. Maybe that's why you feel even smaller than ever, even when you're standing by in your best leather boots.

It is 10:32 PM.

What is going on?

To be fair, you were expecting this kind of reception. All of you were. That's why there are holsters secured on both sides of your waist and a little bomb nestled in your jacket pocket. That's why you made sure to secure your own copy of the map to drill all the curves, nooks, and crannies of this whole area in your brain hours before the negotiation was to take place. They told you that the memorizing isn't necessary, but you'd like to think that you know better so you practiced 'better safe than sorry'.

Turns out that you're right, and you'll be using that knowledge way earlier than you expected.

It is 10:58 PM.

How did this happen?

Your side could use the classic 'we tried' defense. No, it wasn't a lie or a joke, not even in slightest. You were paying close attention to the conversation, getting all those details in your head while doing your best to observe the surroundings and the non-verbal communication flying about. Gritting of teeth, crossing of arms, stiffening of shoulders, curling of fists. Ah, this wasn't looking good. You can practically feel the air growing stiffer by the minute.

Then some genius pulls out a gun.

It is 11:27 PM.

Why you?

You're stepping on spilt blood, hold the weight of triggers in your hands, hear gurgling cries with the crunching of muscle and bone as accompaniment, and breathe in touches of sulfur and death. You're a pretty thing standing in the makings of a morgue with your skin still unscathed and limbs in all the right positions, eyes able to see and heart still beating. So maybe, just maybe, that's why.

That's why someone's running towards you at full speed, screaming hell's wrath with teeth bared and the sharp tip of an iron blade aimed at your chest.

Shit, a familiar voice hisses. Others follow, but you can't hear what they're saying and suddenly everything's a blur too. The sentiment is fitting, you think. Shit. You're no statue, but your feet are rooted to the ground and you forget how it is to breathe. Shit. Your attacker's coming closer and closer and he isn't stopping for no one, not for you or for anyone else. Shit. Your shaking fingers manage to curl around something solid, and for a moment you think yourself going mad when you actually feel comfort in the touches of cold metal against your skin.

Shit.

When your arms lift themselves up, two barrels are able to take aim.

Shit.

The man and his knife are about to step into your personal space.

Shit.

Your fingers pull at the -

Oh, your lips shake.

It is 12:01 AM.

It is 12:01 AM, and you just killed someone.

........................................................

The third bout that leaves her mouth has lesser chunks and is now mostly saliva. They leave her mouth in lengthy trails, drops falling down, down, down.

Doubled over with her head between her knees, she gasps repeatedly for more air than she really needs and more that she can release in grave huffs. It's almost like she's reminding herself how it is to breathe while emptying the contents of her stomach. Inhale, exhale. Through the nose, then out again. She figures that she must look all sorts of pitiful, some strange girl huffing and puffing with her body dangerously close to the pier's edge.

And while she's watching the remains of her lunch mingle with the sea, the world around her still goes on. Of course it does, because time is not so kind and sensitive enough to stop for every unfortunate soul struck with the impulse to throw up. If it did, then maybe she would go about slower in trying to breathe and getting rid of the acid in her mouth. If it did, then maybe she wouldn't start worrying about the impending blare of police sirens echoing faintly in her ears.

When something warm - a hand - rests on her shoulder, she raises her head slowly before turning it around.

The first thing she sees is a gloved open palm offering a handkerchief. It is pure white. No crease, no fold. The sight makes her lips purse, teeth gnawing at the insides of her cheek. She takes the cloth anyway, with the reluctance of someone who doesn't want their hands to get burned. It's ridiculous. She's ridiculous.

She lifts her head for whoever took pity on her. The ends of her lips pull upwards, urging the shape of a curve. She hopes it looks natural. It feels like it is.

For her efforts, green eyes smile back at her. It's still dark and the lighting around the place is still dim and sickly and the fog doesn't make visibility any better, but she knows those eyes. Most people just call them green, but personally she likes calling them mint. The color, the herb, the taste. A calming cool pastel, a blooming verdant vibrancy, a rush of a fresh sensation in the mouth that lingers long to carve its name on the tongue.

Not too chilling, too cold, too spicy, too menthol-like. There has always been something familiar about those small eyes that has become soothing to her.

"The others have gone ahead. We need to leave too," he whispers. The hand set on her shoulder squeezes gently before moving over to touch her arm. "Can you stand?"

She nods, fingers wiping away the tears that had formed in the edges of her eyes before the handkerchief dabs at her mouth.

"I'm fine," she tries to say, smoothing her voice into something convincing. It doesn't work because the consecutive throwing up session had her throat now running dry and empty. Another thing empty. No food and energy and melody left in her and all that's left behind is a horrid ungodly cross between hoarse and mechanical. Grating and lifeless. Skin, muscle, and blood for a shell but nothing inside. Not the least bit human. Who's going to believe her now?

Even her legs quake when she tries to stand. How embarrassing, her own body won't even listen to her. She's thankful for the hand that keeps her steady, it takes hold of her arm and weight into stride and lifts her up to her feet; not letting go till she's ready and standing upright. The hand goes as far as to smooth the stray strands of her blonde hair back in place, tucking locks behind her ear and keeping them away from her eyes.

How nice. Maybe now she's a bit presentable.

"I can carry you back."

"W-wh-what? Oh no, no, it's okay. It's nice of you to offer. But I can walk, I promise."

A low hum, the peer into her eyes that leaves little space to speak of in between two faces.

"... I'll hold onto your hand to be safe. Is that better?"

Well. Still a bit embarrassing. But maybe she should listen to her shaking knees and stop being stubborn for once.

There wasn't much of her pride worth salvaging right now anyway.

"... All right, then."

........................................................

Car rides can sure brew fun conversations.

"So about the one you killed - "

"The one she shot," the sudden correction is hostile, and it's quickly met with a pointed snort that follows with the turn of the wheel. The van tilts sharply to the left, and through her slightly lowered window, an angry chorus of car horns trumpet their way in.

Watch where you're fucking going, shitty asshole, goddamn kid and other curses also reach her ears.

So much for safe driving.

"Four bullets to the torso, four bullets to the neck - what else is a man going to be but dead after that barrage?"

The facts are laid out by a voice that brought to mind those of television news show reporters: neutral in volume, plain in pitch and timbre, objective in content. She could hear it now: this just in - unknown assailant shoots a middle-aged man multiple times, flees the scene immediately and leaves victim bleeding to death on the pavement; more details after the break. Her eyes turn up to the rearview mirror, finds the driver's gaze away from the road and instead set on her. Silver irises make for pretty jewelry but also sharpened knives, a dangerous mix of allure and pressure. She can't handle it and opts to look away, her insides twisting themselves into knots.

She thinks he hears him laughing.

Beside her, a hiss. "Just because this sorry excuse of a van isn't ours you decide to drive like the ruffian you truly are, how predictable. If you keep going recklessly, we're bound to catch unwanted attention."

"If you wanted to drive so much then you should've said so in the first place, stickler. The police aren't that stupid to prioritize a speeding ticket over a distress call, now are they?"

"Shame on you to assume that there's an extent to stupidity."

The banter would continue to go on without her help so she leans her head against the window, gazing at the scenery outside. A street never dead despite the early hour, cars constantly passing through. Beggars making themselves small in between the crooks of alleys. Drunkards stumbling about the sidewalk. The occasional salaryman making their way home. Teenagers in groups or adults on their lonesome. Bars and convenience stores flashing their bright lights.

Still the same as ever.

"Clean them."

The stern voice pulls her out of her head, and she sees something land on her lap - it's a long strip of cloth and on top of it a thin bottle, transparent liquid sloshing about inside. Right, how could she forget: her hands go to the holsters on her waist and she pulls out her revolvers, cringes a bit when she sees the splatters of dark red across the front sights and barrels.

Ah... those must be dry by now.

She takes the bottle, about to pop it open -

"Again, don't forget to unload them first."

Despite herself, a soft laugh escapes her lips. She glances at him; he who never missed all the small details, he who constantly reminded her of the same thing during these nights. He's watching her with an eyebrow raised, maybe wondering why she hasn't followed his instructions yet.

He's still the same as ever too - it's oddly comforting, in a way.

"I know," she says with a wry smile.

........................................................

When the waves of police cars have gone far far away, they leave their getaway van in some unassuming convenience store parking lot space.

Upon their arrival at the city's center, they split into two groups. Group A reconvenes with the rest of the team; Group B goes back to base.

When they drew straws, she considered being part of Group B a stroke of luck, but -

"So like I was saying earlier, the man you killed..."

They're taking a short break on a park bench, and his sudden quip has her choking on her 250 lin bottled water and it gets everywhere: around her chin, across her shirt, down to her pants. She looked embarrassing, that's for sure; and of course he decides to act like a true gentleman by sitting beside her wordlessly as she tries to get through the worst of her coughing fit, just staring at her with obvious interest.

No pats on the back, are you okays, there, theres - just the chirping of crickets, quiet rustling of leaves, and his soft laughter ringing in her ears.

"Still jittery, huh?"

"If you knew, then you shouldn't have said that in the first place...!"

"Good point."

She flashed him a scowl before letting out a few more coughs.

"Why," she starts a few seconds later, voice warbling at the edges, "do you keep mentioning that man?"

"Oh, just to serve as a usual reminder. I'm sure you know that if you didn't kill him in time, then you would've died."

"... I know."

"You say you do, but it still doesn't give you any satisfaction, doesn't it? Especially for someone like you."

She inhales sharply, hands wringing themselves together on her lap. His pointed emphasis on her state didn't offend her much, possibly because she accepted it to be the truth for some time now: get over it, she told herself multiple times. It comes with the job, it's natural, she sung to herself. You did what you had to do, it was unavoidable, she cried to herself. Those were just the beginning of the many words she'd use the first time, the second, the third, then so on and so forth until she had pushed herself into a cycle of guilt; the next unwanted experience breaking her down just as easy, just as vicious and relentless like the first time she felt blood drown her hands.

It's a terrible, terrible, such a terrible feeling; to be thankful that you took someone else's life just to be able to live one more day longer. To understand that to live; you must plunge a knife on someone's chest, shove poison down their throat, steal the air out of their lungs, and rain bullets on their body.

Eyes close themselves tightly, teeth dig harshly into the insides of the mouth.

If she could wail to the heavens, she would.

... Just where did it all go wrong?

........................................................

2: cleaning tumblr drafts, i stumbled on this and tried to find its main file but... it??? doesn't??? exist??? this was a shame to scrap entirely, so i patched it up the best i could... ran out of steam come the ending tho....（´＿｀） 3: i remember aiming for a no-name drop kind of thing, so i tried my best to hint at who is who solely through description! in order of appearance, alice's companions are mousse (pier scene + hostile corrector), dean (alice's seatmate in the van scene), and dalim (van driver + bench scene) - idk if i managed to pull it off, but dean really got the short end of the stick since his scene's the shortest aha....

#ikemen kakumei #ikemen revolution #ikerev fanfic #ikerev alice #shifting narratives....... working through the transition is fun #now that i think of it this is fic is a chunk of formats i've always wanted to try #tho mafia huh... ugh... i wanna play my piofiore when i get home orz #but wHEN

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years ago

Text

No Time to Die

Trigger Warning: Some heavy stuff and dark things ahead.

It was bittersweet really. Wasn’t love always bittersweet? That’s the way he made it. So sickeningly sweet one moment and so appealingly bitter the next. Perhaps that’s why he was so attractive? It was the chase. The thing we are all taught from a young age – men are wild animals. One must try to tame them. They must be tamed or else they will leave and abandon you. Or perhaps was that just the way you were raised? Hm. Something to think about, no? Does it matter? It doesn’t really change anything at the end of the day. But at the same thing, it could’ve changed a lot. You would like to think that you wouldn’t have fallen for him. That you could’ve resisted it: the beauty, the grace, the way words rolled so smoothly off his tongue. Or are you fooling yourself once again? The way you’ve done so many times before. To be fair, you wouldn’t be the first to fall for his charms. He, after all, was an expert at luring in prey. Seducing them to the dark side. Sweeping them off their feet so fast that they suffered whiplash. It was impossible to resist really. After all, you’ve always been weak for clichés.

Oh, and he was a cliché, wasn’t he? The way he strolled into that bar: dressed all in black with an aura that exuded power – danger. The type you had read, heard, and seen in just about every form of entertainment targeted towards naïve, inexperienced, young women. Of course, you made eye-contact. Of course, he smirked. Of course, he then ignored you and chose to nurse a drink at the bar, that you would later learn he hated. He hated the taste of whiskey, how it burned when it went down, but it was part of the image. Part of the illusion. If he had ordered something else – perhaps the fruity drinks you knew he preferred, would you have fallen for it? The image of him you’d created inside your head. Probably not. It’s okay though, you fit the image inside his. The ideal. Boy, he could probably smell you a mile away: the hard-headed girl with strong opinions, a tough outer shell but such a soft inside. The type that was so willing to bend and mold into whatever anyone wanted. Into anything that guaranteed attention and affection. At an age where a smile or a kind word can be so easily misunderstood. Where one is still under the illusion that “bad things happen, but not to me.”

What was it again? That he said? Ah yes, something about the weather. It was raining and the air outside was so suffocating that you couldn’t stand to be outside for more than a few seconds. But you went, outside didn’t you? He wanted a smoke and asked if you would go with him. You immediately agreed and then tried to play it off, cheeks blushing a bright red due to your awkwardness. “You’re cute.” He said, before leading you towards the front entrance. Remember thinking how you thought that you would be safe if something went wrong because there were people outside? If only you’d known that as long as you were with him, you were never safe. Oh, how you smiled and laughed even as the toxic smoke-filled your lungs. Even when it reminded you of broken bottles, broken promises, and broken families. It didn’t matter, because he was oh so perfect and he would only want you if you were the same. So, you tried to be. You smiled, but not too much. You laughed, but not too much. And you talked, but never more than him. It worked, didn’t it? You exchanged numbers, he promised he called, and he did; two weeks later, but he called.

What was it that he said? “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” It was so stereotypical – fictitious, fabricated, fake – but of course, it was he was feeding you lines after all. Everything that it took to ensnare you in his web. Remember the party? You poured so much time and effort into your outfit and makeup but still went in a pair of ripped jeans and blouse because god forbid it to look like you put effort into your look. He couldn’t know that it was for him. But he did know. Of course, he did. He saw the way your eyes lit up when you saw him sitting on that old leather couch sipping on some shitty craft beer. But he ignored you. All night. Barely even spared a glance your way. Good thing you had brought your friends because you had assumed as much. He may an expert at the game, but you were aware of its rules; enough to last you the first couple of rounds. Hell, didn’t he call you the next morning? Shocked that you hadn’t approached him at the party. Shocked that you hadn’t even texted him when you had arrived. You had won, hadn’t you?

The date was nice though, you can admit that much. You expected some fancy restaurants and maybe a movie. One that was good enough to watch, but not too good that it would absorb all your attention. How was he supposed to kiss you during a scene then? Or do that cringey thing where he asked to hold your hand or leaned into you. He didn’t though, take you to a fancy restaurant that is. He took you to the beach. A moonlight picnic on a private beach. So, the two of you could talk, “without the pretense of small talk or a movie to bother us.” Talk you did, for three hours, the time passed by so quickly. The two of you practically knew everything about each other. He had said that he’d never connected to someone the way he had to you. Oh, how your heart had fluttered, and eyes shined as he stared so deeply into you – too deeply some would say. Remember the joke? Sure, at the time, it seemed funny but now it's not so funny is it? At the time, it seemed like he was playing into a trope, but now that same phrase keeps you up at night.

“I bet we could do just about anything here. Not like anyone could hear or see us.”

“What kind of things are you thinking about, huh? Perv.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to know…they’d probably have you running for the hills.”

“Ooh, scary.”

The images that pop into your head nowadays are scary. Isn’t that why you can’t sleep at night? It wasn’t scary that night though, not with the way the glowed so effortlessly. The full moon capturing his beauty so eerily, you wondered if he was something out of your imagination. He probably would’ve been delighted if you had ever expressed those thoughts. That was his goal after all: to be your knight in shining armor. The one you had waited for all these years. The one that was there to save you. Oh, how you longed to be saved. Who’s going to save you now? You didn’t have to worry about anything with him. He was always there whenever you needed him. Even when it made absolutely no sense for him to be there. Like how he was able to be at your house in under ten minutes when those burglars broke in. Wasn’t he supposed to be out of town with his friends? Or how about that time you and he fought because your mom was hospitalized yet again. It was so sweet when he showed up at the hospital room with a “get well soon” card, balloons, and flowers. So sweet that you forgot the fact that you had never mentioned what room she was staying in, the hospital, or the fact that she was even sick.

He just knows things. Is what you had always said, trying to justify it to yourself. Like how he guessed your astrological sign and then from there your exact birthdate – on the third date. How he knew your favorite sweets and scents; “You just smell sweet. So, I assumed you like sweet things.” Your favorite color? “You seem like a baby blue person.” Your favorite food? “Whoever doesn’t like this has no taste.” Ah, yes. Even that. “My ex was about the same size, so I just guessed.” That one had hurt you a bit. It implied that he had a type, that you weren’t special. He must’ve seen the look on your face for he leaned in real close and mentioned how he couldn’t wait to see it on.

“Just the image in my head has me almost collapsing on my knees.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Funny.”

It was a funny thought: that you would ever get to be in control of that. Oh no, he needed to be in control. He once told you that nothing got him more riled up, then having you submit completely to him. To the point where you placed your life in his hands. Remember when you did that? Just to please him. When you were shaking with fear at the thought of his hands around your neck, but he had asked so nicely that you couldn’t say no. It was only a one-time thing, right? Like the marks? Like the bites? Like the pain? But all of that was better than his words. Then the disappointment in his face when you failed him, yet again.

“Didn’t I say you should call me when you got home?”

“You know how dangerous it is to be out at night.”

“If your boss is that insufferable then just quit already. How many times have I told you I can maintain us both?”

“If your friends are so annoying why do you keep hanging out with them?!”

“I told you it would be cold outside, but no. You wanted to wear that dress.”

It was the dress you’d worn when you first met. Of course, it was special, and you wanted to wear it as much as you could. You did like wearing until “I don’t know it looks kind of suggestive.” You being the fool that you were asked him to elaborate, “Suggestive of what?” He had said so casually as if it was a truth of the matter, “Suggestive of sexual availability.” What? “You look like a slut.” You had locked yourself in your room that night and cried. Not because of what he said, but because of how it made you feel. Mother had always said men didn’t like sluts and here you were dressing like one. You were so foolish. You threw out all your short dresses and skirts in your fit of despair, but you kept the white dress. It was oh so pretty and you couldn’t ponder getting rid of it. So, you tucked it away in a little corner of your dresser, where one would have to actively look for it to find it. It was a hiding spot you had discovered years ago, and it was where you kept all your precious items hidden.

You would come to regret such a decision when he had found it years later. Truth be told you had forgotten about it, but he wasn’t having it all. Even when you explained its significance to you. “So, you want to cling onto your old life, then? The one you had before us?!” It was no use. He would never understand. There were many things he “didn’t understand,” but that was okay because there would be many things you didn’t understand either. Like how he found out about your admission into the university when you hadn’t even told anyone. Or even spoken about it to him. How he always knew where you were. Even though you had triple-checked your phone for a tracking device. You weren’t too sure he hadn’t put one inside you. You still aren’t too sure he didn’t. Which is why going through metal detectors still freaks you out so much. Just another thing to add to the list of ever-growing things that haunt you.

What was it about him? Truly? There had been others. Others just like him, but he was something unique. It was uncanny really; how perfect he was. How perfectly he fit you, almost as if he was made for you. He was Galatea and you were Pygmalion – or was it the other way around? At first, it looked like that, but now you aren’t so sure. You did change. How much was for him and how much was for you, that you don’t know. Perhaps he was so good that every choice was made by him, but just like the puppet on the strings; your choice was an illusion. Doesn’t matter now, does it? All of those years of anguish and pain turn to nothing when he smiles at you. What a beautiful smile it is straight pearly whites framed by cherry red lips, how it crinkled the corner of his brown eyes. You could stare at him forever until the smile left his eyes that is. Then all you’d want to do is run.

Running never helped though, but you couldn’t help it. He never blamed you either, it’s human nature or a fighter you never were. Not until the end. Not until you had to be. It’s funny how a moment could seem so eternal and be over so quickly, in the blink of an eye really. You thought the two of you would last forever, that you would grow old together. The image you had fabricated in your head was so perfect, you should’ve known that you would never be able to reach it. Still, that’s the beauty of dreams. The two of you often shared your dreams: in yours, the two of you would be together in life. In his, you’d be together in death. “Right, baby?” There was only one answer. Even if it was the wrong one. Even if saying the words meant bile crawling up your throat and wanting to gouge your eyes out. “Of course.” It’s a miracle that you lasted as long as you did, but you were his favorite – that’s why you lasted so long. None had been able to reach his standards, able to surpass them. You did that and so much more. Remember how proud he looked when the knife pierced through his flesh and right into his heart? It was the first time he ever looked at you – truly looked at you – and not the image of you he had created in his head. You could almost swear those were tears of joy in his eyes if you didn’t know the pain of being stabbed that is.

“I love you.”

I love you too. I love you so much. Please. Please don’t leave me. Please stay with me. Please forgive me. You remained silent and stoic as you watched the life drain out of him. The smile never did leave his eyes, did it? It’s a shame there was no funeral. You would’ve liked to see him one last time, but you can’t really have a funeral with when the body has been incinerated to the point of not being recognized. It’s what he deserved. That way you were certain he was really gone. That he wouldn’t come back and haunt you. It’s okay though, better to feel this than nothing at all – no? After all what kind of ending could you have expected…you never were one for happy endings.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder. Which as they kiss consume.

#girlmeetsliv3 #no time to die #bts x reader #yandere bts x reader #these violent delights have violent ends #and in their triumph die like fire and water #which as they kiss consume

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ablogcalledrevenge · 5 years ago

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Never Really Over

(a Gabriel O’Malley x Reader Insert Multichapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter One

There’s a knock on your door around 7pm on Friday night. You’re not expecting anyone and you freeze on the couch, knowing the episode of Wonder Woman is loud and clear. You grab your gun from the table and shove it in the back of your shorts, the metal cold against your skin. It might be nothing, but better to be safe than sorry. Los Angeles in 1978 was a seedy place and you weren’t an idiot. It’s also interesting to note because you live in a gated apartment complex; no one can get in without you letting them in first. So whoever’s at your door means business.

You unbolt and open the door, see who it is, and immediately slam the door in their face.

“Hey! Fuck (Y/N), let me in! I gotta talk to you. Open the damn door!” He yells through the wood, not doubt alerting your neighbors. Unfortunately it was now that you regretted living with so many secretive people; they knew not to call the cops. While most of the time that was a good thing, now you wish they would. He deserved a long stay in some holding cell after what he put you through. But you also knew he was stubborn and would probably stay there all night yelling if you let him. So with a sigh, you open the door and let him in.

Gabriel O’Malley steps over the threshold and back into your life like nothing ever happened. Like you’d never told him you loved him, and like he never left you without a word. Like a year hadn’t passed without so much as a phone call. You were a little surprised by how much it hurt to see him, how much you still weren’t over him. It was embarrassing.

He sits down at your kitchen table, quiet and waiting. There is a brief standoff where you just stare at each other. Throwing up your hands, you turn on the stove to boil water for tea. You grab mugs from the cabinet, unthinkingly taking his favorite- blue and green swirled porcelain- without even realizing.

“You know, you got a lotta of nerve coming back here. Everyone knows what you did to me, you’re not going to find many sympathetic friends.” You say as the tea brews. He doesn’t say anything, content to watch you. You’re annoyed that he caught you in your pajamas. It’s a cute set, a pink satin tank and shorts your sister gave you, but he doesn’t deserve to see it. You should plug him full of lead right now, the absolute nerve!

“Yeah well, I couldn’t stay in New York. Shit happened.” He finally says, as you give him his tea. You could doctor it up just the way he likes, you still remember, but instead you place milk and sugar on the table between you. He doesn’t look bad if you’re being truthful. He looks like he gained a little bit of weight, which was good since he was such a beanpole, but he’d lost a lot of the beautiful color he’d gotten working in LA. Everything else is the same. His hair, his stubble, his clothes, the mole on his cheek you used to kiss for luck. It’s all there and you can feel your heart shriveling in your chest.

“Oh I know. We all know what went down in New York. It’s a fucking mess, is what happened. I mean, I’m all for girl power but you completely dismantled Hell’s Kitchen. Apparently the broads you backed couldn’t even keep themselves together. You stole the Hasidim from the Italians, which was a risky move, and you’re gonna hear about it for sure. But then, the girls start to split; one of ‘em died and the other is trying for Harlem? Yeah, good luck with that.” You snort into your tea. He looks pained at the mention of Claire’s death but it’s true. If she were smart, she wouldn’t have died.

“And now you’ve come crawling back to us. You backed the wrong horse and you know if you show your face in Midtown, they’ll cut your throat. I don’t know what’s more stupid; that you came back at all, or that you thought this would work? Did you expect me to open the door and fall into your arms with gratitude? Think you could just walk into Zayde’s office and get your job back? Are you outta your fucking mind? They’ll kill you when they find out you’re back.” You promise, trying to keep your voice down. The walls between apartments were insulated and people minded their own business, but this was still a touchy subject.

“Look I know I messed up! I was trying to help. They’re my people, some of them family and they needed help. The guys in charge were running it into the ground. You should’ve seen the way they treated their wives, it was disgusting! Believe me, even with all the bullshit, the Kitchen is better with the women in charge. But I got too invested and Cathy told me to leave, so here I am. They’re not gonna kill me, I’m no rat. I just, you know, abandoned the family and broke your heart. Sorry by the way.” He shrugs, looking sheepish but not worried. You see red and stand up from the table.

“Sorry by the way? Sorry by the way! You fucking schmuck! You broke my heart! You left without a word, without a reason. I didn’t know what happened to you or where you were. I thought you’d been taken or killed! And then I hear that you’re in New York, helping the Irish and screwing some married bitch! The same one I’ve been in the shadow of since we met! You expect me to be okay with a sorry?” You accuse, the anger practically steaming off your body.

He sips his tea and you almost lunge across the table. Your cat tinkles in from the other room and meows at Gabriel, who peers down with a very soft look. Your heart cracks again.

“Since when do you have a cat? She’s cute.” He asks, picking up Magenta and letting her snuggle against his chest. You glare at the traitor, as if you didn’t cry into her fur about the man holding her.

“I got her about 6 months ago. It helped to have someone around, even if she couldn’t really talk back. I just got really lonely here.” You admit, finger running along the lip of your mug.

“What? You haven’t dated anyone since I left?” He asks, looking genuinely confused. Which surprises you considering he’s here to apologize and possibly worm his way into your heart. But his surprise that you weren’t seeing anyone didn’t add up with the other stuff. Why would he want you to date other people? Maybe to make him feel less guilty?

“No I did, but it was never that serious. I just didn’t feel like getting involved with anyone like that. It felt like I was betraying you, even though you would’ve deserved it.” You can hear the faint sounds of Lynda Carter stopping bullets from the other room. Then a beer commercial starts and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. With him in the apartment, it’s like everything is reminding you of before. Before he left for New York and took your heart with him.

“Yeah well, looks like we’re both back to square fucking one.” Gabe scoffs, draining his cup and letting Magenta jump down from his lap. He glances around your apartment, though it hasn’t changed much in a year, before leaning back in his chair.

“So, where am I sleeping?” He asks and you pull the gun from your shorts and point it in his face. You’ve reached your tipping point with him, clearly.

“Un-fucking-believable. If you think you can just come back here and everything will go back to the way it was, you’ve got another thing coming. Now get outta my house.” Your gaze is deadly and your hand doesn’t shake. Gabe gets up slowly and walks towards the door, hands up in a placating gesture. The barrel follows him. He opens the door and steps out of your apartment and into the warm night air.

“You look real beautiful (Y/N), fuck it’s good to see you.” He says wistfully before you slam the door in his face again. What an asshole. Still, you can’t help but smile at his boldness. Gabriel O’Malley wasn’t a loud man, didn’t care about being in the spotlight, but he was always bold. It was nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

~~~~~~~~

He ends up taking a bus to Tony’s house, happy to still remember where everything is. The house looks the same, pale green siding with blooming flower boxes under the window. It looks like the hydrangeas finally grew, that was nice.

Taking a deep breath, Gabe knocks on the door as the fireflies buzz around him. Shit, it was late, wasn’t it? He should’ve come at a different time. But before he could flee, the door opens.

“Gabey! Oh Gabey, it’s so good to see you! Come inside and eat something, I made stuffed shells. Here, I’ll get you a plate.” Mrs. Petrillo says, ushering him into the house. Even if he wanted to argue, he wouldn’t. You didn’t argue with Mrs. Petrillo. She was 5 feet of pure Italian dynamite and he loved the old broad to pieces.

A huge plate of food is set in front of him, along with wine and bread, and he eats happily as Mrs Petrillo putters around her kitchen. Her house slippers make scuffing noises on the laminate floor and the sound is comforting to him.

“Gabey patatino, how are you? What are you doing back? How was New York?” She asks, sitting next to him at the old diner style table and patting his hand.

“I’m good Mrs. P, I’m good. New York was… well some good things happened and some bad things happened but I’m doing okay.” He explains in between bites. She makes a sympathetic noise and gives him another slice of bread.

“Hey Ma, who was at the door? Was it… Gabriel O’Malley, you sonuvabitch! You know, you gotta lot of nerve coming back here.” Tony says, entering the kitchen with a grimace. Gabe gives a tight smile in response.

“Anthony Michael, is that any way to talk to your friend? Let him eat before you start yelling in my kitchen.” Mrs. P shoots back. Her son looks abashed for all of a moment before rounding back to Gabe, his gold cornicello swinging on his neck.

“Friend? This chooch fucks off for New York without a word and breaks (Y/N)’s heart with it and we’re supposed to let him back like it’s nothing? Ma, he doesn’t deserve the stuffed shells.” He yells, rightfully so; Gabe thinks as he wipes his mouth.

Tony’s mother starts yelling about language and hospitality but the sound of Gabe pushing his chair back makes them quiet.

“He’s right Mrs. Petrillo. I’m a real jerk. I did a lot of things wrong. I was trying to help who I thought was my family and I ended up hurting the real one I had here. I made a lotta mistakes, the biggest one being how I treated her. But that’s why I’m back. I want to say I’m sorry, sorry to everyone, and fix things with her. I know it’s a mess, I don’t even have a place to stay or money.” Gabe sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

Mrs. P makes a soft sound of commiseration and hugs him.

“Don’t worry patatino, everything’s gonna be fine. You can stay here until you get back on your feet. Right Anthony?” She offers, shooting a glare at her son. He glares at Gabe before nodding in concession.

“I can’t stay mad at you, you leprechaun. Stay here and work on getting your life together.” Tony says, joining his mother to wrap Gabe in a hug.

For the first time in months, Gabriel feels safe, he feels comforted. In New York, despite the power he had and Claire in his bed, he always felt so antsy. Like he was just waiting for everything to fall out from under him. When it did, well, it was probably a good thing that no one was in the train compartment with him on his way back to California.

“So what do I do Tony? Got any jobs for me? You know I’m good for it.” He finally says when he sits back down at the table to eat and his throat doesn’t feel so tight.

“Well, there is a wedding next week.” Tony says and he grins over his wine glass and Gabriel can’t help but laugh and raise his own glass in agreement.

Chapter Two Coming Soon...

Tagging: @babbushka, @theold-ultraviolence

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#never really over #the kitchen #gabriel o'malley x reader #gabriel o'malley #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #gabriel o'malley imagines #fanfiction #my writing

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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sober - m.barzal (pt. four)

a/n: hello this is the last repost until the new part!!

Three - Five

Mat Barzal was completely and utterly fucked. There was no way around it, you had him in the palm of your hand and you didn’t even care. Sure, the first time was an accident, and Mat definitely didn’t regret it but he wasn’t sure if he had your number he would have called you again. But, when he saw you running through the halls at Madison Square Garden - Mat was focused on you and you only. The marks he left on her that were uncovering themselves while you power walked past him. In a pencil skirt that was living rent free in his dirtiest dreams. Even then, the second time he tried to get you, it was because he had just lost a rivalry game for the team you work for and your friends were barely twenty feet away. He wanted to be the best, and there wasn’t much that could stop him when he set his mind to it.

After that, things felt different. Mat liked a chase, he was competitive as hell and if you were a prize he was going to win it. He’d never let you know that, especially because if you knew he referred to you as a prize - Mat would be a dead man. You were the poison Mat was dying to drink, and you were intoxicating. You were all the things Mat loved to hate, wrapped up in a bow addressed just for him.

“Let me take you out,” Mat mutters, his lips pressing kisses into your back, still inside you while you both let yourselves relax for just a moment, basking in the glow of a sunny Sunday afternoon. You’d both landed late the night before, Mat from Arizona and you from Toronto, making a Sunday afternoon in bed tearing eachother apart a necessity.

“I will pay you to never ask me that again,” You sigh, internally gathering the strength to push Mat off you so you could leave. A nap and a second round sounded like a dream, but staying too long would mean something - and that wasn’t allowed.

“What if there’s some stakes?” Mat tries again, pinning your arms above your head, much like he’d done when he was balls deep in you ten minutes ago. You hummed in response, waiting for whatever dumb idea Mat had up his sleeve, “We can play a game.”

“I’m listening,” You muse, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of Mat’s lips ghosting over your skin while he spoke.

“We go out, whoever gets the most numbers at the end of the night wins,” Mat suggests, “I’ll go down on you if you win and you’ll give me head if I win.”

“What if I meet someone I want to go home with more than you?” You ask, turning around and giving Mat a smirk.

“You won’t,” Mat smiles confidently, as if he was so positive he really was the best.

“What if you meet someone you want to take home more than me?” You counter, turning around in his arms, “What if you meet someone I want to take home more than you?”

“That big brain of yours works way too hard,” Mat chuckles, his laugh bouncing off the walls of his bedroom.

“Someone’s gotta think around here Mat.”

You were going to win, you were sure of it. It didn’t matter if Mat had years of playing an extremely competitive sport under his designer belt, he’d never met you. You were competitive by nature, maybe it had something to do with your family. Maybe it was because you’re one of three women in your department with the Rangers, and there were only a handful of others. Maybe it was because Mat was smug and you wanted him to just shut his mouth for once. Either way, you were in the zone. Your heels were high, and your head was held higher while you strutted down the street to a bar that was only a few blocks away from your apartment.

“I would have had my Uber swing by you,” Mat suggests, giving a once over while you walked over to him, “I don’t know if we would have made it here though.”

“Like I’ve said before, you’re not going near my building-” You start to remind him, a condensing tone to your voice that was hushed by his hand waving you off.

“I know, I know. Damn,” Mat cuts you off, his voice lowering while he grabbed your hand, “You’re really trying to win, am I that good in bed?”

“You’re one to talk,” You scoff, internally trying to stop the heat you could feel rushing to your cheeks when the words slipped from your mouth. Mat looked good, a pair of jeans that were showing off his incredibly toned thighs, reminding you of the filthy dream you had about riding them. A button down that was missing a few buttons on purpose, a shiny silver chain hanging down that you’d yet to see.

“Was that a compliment? Do you think I’m hot?” Mat laughs, a wide smile on his face that he finally caught you.

“Objectively, yes, I think you’re hot,” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as if it were your armor from letting any other nice things about Mat that you did enjoy to slip out.

“Wow,” Mat says, pulling you into his chest, “You’re pretty cute when you’re nice.”

“And what about when I’m not nice?” You ask, your cheek pressed against Mat’s chest.

“You’re hot as fuck,” Mat whispers, “You going to lose tonight.”

“You’re on Barz,” You say, wagging your finger at him while you disappeared into the crowd to find your first victim.

By the time a few hours had passed by, you had almost fifteen new numbers in your phone, five drinks you didn’t pay for, and a confidence that you were winning this stupid game. You look around the bar, the man in front of you droning on about whatever basketball game was on TV, and you spotted Mat. Mat who had a girl practically hanging off him, but his attention had been directed at you.

“Hey, I’ve got to run,” You excuse yourself, ignoring anything the guy in front of you was saying and walking back over to Mat.

“Oh hey look it’s my girlfriend,” Mat announces, like he’d been surprised to see you. The girl next to him was giving you daggers, as if you were the one who stopped her from her chance with Mat, who’s eyes were begging you to just go along with it, “Babe, we should head out?”

“Yeah we should,” You agree, letting Mat grab your hand and lead you outside.

The moment the cool winter air of Manhattan hit you both, you turned to each other and smiled. Mat’s laugh came first, the laugh that echoed even outside because it was so loud, followed by yours while you both doubled over in laughter. Mat finally stops, catching his breath and staring at you intently for a moment, like he was thinking for the first time in his life, “I think you won.”

“How do you know?” You ask, wondering how long his eyes had been on you.

“Because I got two numbers and then I couldn’t stop watching you,” Mat admits, “It was impressive.”

“I know,” You say simply, it was your turn to be the smug one, “You going to hold up your end of the deal or what?”

The ride back to Mat’s apartment was quiet, at least on your end. Mat spent the entire ride talking about the Isles to your Uber driver, who was over the moon to have Mat Barzal himself in their car. You drowned out the noise, scrolling through your phone until a text came through from Chris.

Are you going to meet us out or are you still with your secret boyfriend?

It was supposed to be playful, not the guilt tripping text it was. Mat wasn’t your boyfriend, not by any means, but he was a secret you were hiding with a lock and key. Chris was probably the only one smart enough to realize something was off, especially when you’d come into work with some awful story about a date to remind Chris just how bad dating was. You sigh, leaving it on read and just ignoring the icky feeling that was in your stomach.

“Something’s wrong,” The words fell out of Mat’s mouth the second you stepped into the elevator to his apartment.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You deny it, but it was clear that text had soured your mood. You’d usually revel in the fact that you beat Mat, and there would be no way you wouldn’t have been a little bit of a sore winner.

Mat sighs, leaning his head against the elevator. His hands were in his pockets while he bit his lip, thinking for a minute, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You ask, because there was no way that Mat, who in the small time that you’d known him, hasn’t just accepted anything you said.

“Okay,” Mat shrugs, opening the door to his place and letting you in, “Listen, you don’t owe me anything, and that’s cool. Besides you’d die before you told me what’s bothering you, so how about you come into my room. I’ll make you cum, and whatever’s bothering you won’t matter until tomorrow.”

Mat was right. Ew, don’t ever think that again. But he was right in the sense that he didn��t mean anything. Mat was a distraction, and you could put anyones head on that beautiful body of his and it would still mean the same thing - nothing.

“I did win tonight,” You say, dragging out your words.

“Anything you want in particular winner?” Mat says, dropping onto his bed and pulling his shirt from behind his head.

You bite your lip, a small fantasy that always lived in your head was pushing its way through your brain. Mat smirks, as if he could read your mind, “There’s one thing, it’s dumb, you know what nevermind let’s just fuck so I can go home and-”

Mat’s eyebrows furrow, “I don’t want to be your fuck buddy Y/N, I want to be your fuck soulmate.”

“Barz, I’m really going to stop coming over if you keep saying weird shit like that,” You threaten, given it wasn’t the first time since your little fling started that you’d said that. Mat told you the weirdest things, and you never knew if it was on purpose and meant anything or if Mat was just a little dumb.

“I mean it, I want to know all the kinky shit Y/N,” Mat says gently, knowing he probably crossed some weird unspoken rule by mentioning the word soulmate to someone he was just fucking on the low.

“I want to sit on, uh, you know,” You say, any bedroom confidence you’d gained over the years went right out the windows in Mat’s apartment.

“You want to sit on my face don’t you?” Mat smirks, crossing his toned arms across his chest.

“Yes, I told you it’s dumb-” You rush out, a blush creeping up your cheeks while you tried to find some invisible shell in crawl into and never have to look Mat in the eyes again.

“Get over here,” Mat chuckles, “I told you, fuck soulmates Y/N.”

And so you did, Mat had somehow managed to take a term that should have disgusted you to your core and made it mean something that was weirdly intimate. Mat was your secret, and that secret was finding new ways to break down the walls you spent so much building around you. You slipped out of Mat’s bed like you did every night, turning around to give him one more look before you headed back to your place. A part of

you screamed to just stay, tuck your head into that broad chest and play with the chain hanging from his neck. The other part, your logical side, was telling you to run away and never come back - but something told you that you weren’t going to do that either. You woke up the next morning with a guilty feeling in your stomach and a text from Mat staring back at you.

You looked so good on top of me babe, couldn’t keep my eyes off you.

You were screwed.

#mat barzal imagine #mat barzal #my writing

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