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streamafterlaughter · 4 months ago

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Soundtrack to Disaster

Prologue

nav | masterlist | playlist | pinboard

fic tags: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, modern!au, angst, time jumps, oc!reader x eddie munson. this fic is rated 18+ MDNI chapter tags: swearing… that’s it for now. teehee

a/n: hello and thanks for reading! chapter one will be posted shortly after this! i really hope you guys enjoy, and please leave me comments!!! reblogs also appreciated greatly!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

taglist (comment/ask to be added!) @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever

—

September, six years ago

Red and brown leaves crunch under your boots as you rush across the commons, phone glued to your ear as your brother’s rants berate you from the other end of the line. You’re missing out on weekend tips to deal with your burn out brother and his stupid friends.

“You didn’t think you’d have to get your story straight just in case you got arrested?!”

“I didn’t really consider it a possibility. I was thinking positively!”

You groan, shoving your key into the ignition of your death trap of a car. “Well, the power of manifestation won’t help you now.”

“Will you please just come pick me up?” You almost tease him about the desperation in his voice, but something tells you it’s a bad idea.

“Yeah, whatever. How much is bail?”

“Ah, forget bail, sis. You’re gonna have to use that money for my lawyer.”

“What the fuck did you do, Chris?”

He stole a car.

Not just any car; a vintage, 1967 Cherry Chevy Camaro belonging to none other than Officer Carver. What a fucking moron.

Carver’s had it out for your brother since he was promoted to Chief of Police, not that Chris didn’t make himself an easy target. At fourteen, your older brother made a habit of stealing from the corner store near your house. He’d come home out of breath, backpack stuffed with a six pack and several candy bars he'd used to bribe you not to tell your parents. You’d taken them with little more than an annoyed huff then, but this wasn’t just cheap beer and a couple Milky Ways. This was the Chief’s car, his baby. You’re pretty sure he loves that thing more than his own son. It would explain a lot. You get to the station as the sun is setting, tinting the sky with orange hues. Inside, it’s mostly quiet save for the phone ringing and the chatter of a couple uniforms. “Hi,” you greet the secretary, who looks bored beyond her years as she types away on her ancient computer. “I’m here to see my brother, Chris L/n.”

She directs you down the hall, where the sole cell in the building holds your big brother inside, sitting on the wooden bench with his head down.

”Hey, idiot.” He looks up, face splitting into a shit eating grin.

”Hey, little sis.”

”What the fuck did you do?”

He snickers, as if this is just another prank, a practical joke! “Thought it would be fun to take Carver’s bird out for a joy ride, sue me!”

“He’s doing worse than suing you, Chris! He’s pressing charges!”

He snorts, then attempts to hide it with a cough. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

You groan at your brother. “How’d he catch you?”

Chris shrugs. “His partner was out on patrol or something, obviously recognized his own car. Caught us red handed.”

”Us? What poor sap agreed to this stupid idea?”

Chris’s smile is seemingly slapped off of his face. “No one. Did I say us? I meant me. He caught me.”

”Chris-“

”Miss? You need to leave, we’re transporting this suspect to the penitentiary shortly.” The secretary hadn’t made a peep behind you, causing you to jump at her voice. She escorts you back to the lobby, where she hands you your cell phone and keys back. You’re about to leave when you hear his voice from across the room.

“You’re free to go this time, Munson, but don’t think I won’t have my eyes on you.”

The boy chuckles as Carver removes his handcuffs. “Oh, I’m sure you will, big guy.”

one year later

The gavel hits the wood. Chris is sentenced to five years in prison for grand theft auto. His fate had been sealed when Eddie took the stand, testifying as a witness. “I was in the car with him. I told him to stop, but I couldn’t convince him.” You watch, stunned into silence, as your brother is taken in handcuffs to the big house, the same cocky smirk still on his lips.

Eddie got one hundred hours of community service, because he’s eighteen with no priors, but you can’t help fuming as you watch him walk free; someone you used to call a friend, someone your brother cherished so much, turned completely against the both of you. How fucking dare he.

chapter I

#eddie munson x reader #fem!reader #oc!reader #modern!au #angst #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends #friends to lovers #strangerthingscentral #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #minimal use of y/n #eddie x you #eddie x y/n #eddie x oc #eddie x fem!reader #SDF

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

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Crossed Wires 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner

Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

As you drive off the former Orson property, your phone rings. You slow to a crawl as you answer, hit speaker and toss it on the passenger’s seat. It’s the same person who only calls. The only one who does.

“So, how’d it go?” Cole asks, his voice patching in and out over the erratic countryside reception.

“Typical,” you answer.

“Been a while since we got a new customer. Were they nice?”

“Eh,” you mutter.

“She friendly?” He prompts further.

“He was fine. Tipped well.”

“He? Interesting. Just one guy or–”

“I guess,” you shrug at the road as you drive. “I’ll bring the check tomorrow.”

“Sure, uh, you going to The Horn tonight?” He asks as you steer along a board curve and rev a little as the road inclines.

You sigh. You were thinking about it but if he’s asking, “no.”

“Oh, alright,” he replies, his disappointment plain.

You don’t mind a nice cold pint at the end of a hot day like this but he’s a lightweight and he gets obnoxious. Sometimes you forget he’s almost forty, more than a decade your senior. He seems to forget too.

“Might get a call for a door opener install,” you break the silence.

“Uh, okay, I’ll keep an ear out. What’re you doing for dinner?”

You stare ahead at the road. You get that the village isn’t very big but you’re not into socializing with your boss and only other coworker. You’re lucky he can’t see the dimness in your eyes.

“Leftovers,” you mutter, “you’re cutting in and out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You pull onto the apron as you reach for your phone. You hang up and drop it back to the seat. He’s a nice guy, you can’t fault him for being just that, but you keep to yourself. That’s how you’re comfortable and you’re not spending your time off pretending otherwise.

✨

The next day, you drive out to the Turner farm. Ethan greets you as he sweeps the porch steps. You apprenticed with him right before he retired and passed on the business to his son. So far, junior has yet to live up to senior.

You get out and decline his offer of a coffee as you climb the stairs. You prefer the elder Turner, he doesn’t chit chat so much. You go inside and leave your boots on the mat, not wanting to draw Beverly’s wrath and press on to the little office behind the kitchen, refusing a second offer of a coffee; you have a thermos in the truck.

You knock and wait for an answer. There’s a groan.

“Honey, you can probably just go in,” Beverly says.

You nod and let yourself into the office. Cole has his head on the desk and winces as you shut the door behind you. You take out the wad of bills you got from Mr. Crayford and the check from that other man, Barber? You put them just above his head and step back to cross your arms.

“Shit,” Cole sits up and rubs his temples, “bit too much fun at The Horn last night.”

“Mm,” you hum. “There’s the money.”

“Ugh, right,” he reaches for the check and squints at the narrow writing. He grumbles and drops it back to the desk, “my head.”

“Any calls?” You ignore his obvious struggle. “I have Lynette marked down for the afternoon–”

“She canceled,” Cole reaches to flutter through the heavy ledger, “but… Odinson called. They’re having an issue with a whole floor. I was thinking we could tag team it, it’ll be a bigger job.”

He speaks gingerly as he cradles his head between his hands. You stare at him dully. He is in no state to do anything more than whine.

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“I just need a coffee,” he says as he rubs his forehead, “I’ll be okay.”

“What time?” You check your watch.

“What time…” he repeats thinly.

“What time are we headed out? I got errands I could run–”

“You’re not going to hang around?”

“Depends,” you huff and drop your arm, putting your hands on your hips as you push back your open flannel shirt, only the button in the middle hooked. His eyes follow the movement.

“In an hour?” He gurgles, “I’ll have to call and confirm.”

“Right,” you take a breath and turn on your heel.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Grabbing my thermos,” you say without looking back.

You leave him, letting Beverly pass as she approaches with a full steaming mug. She does tend to coddle him. His helplessness isn’t very surprising. You stop to step into your boots and tuck the laces in.

Ethan is sitting on the porch bench, a newspaper in hand. You give a small wave as you emerge and head off to your truck. You get in the front seat and roll down the window. You grab your thermos and uncap it. You can wait out here until Cole gets his shit together.

You put the thermos back in the cup holder and look down. You button up the front of your shirt, skin crawling as you recall the way he stared at your hips. He does that sometimes but you’re not even sure he realises. He just watches you…

Whatever. You got a job to do and having him with you will only double it.

#cole turner #andy barber #dark cole turner #dark andy barber #dark!cole turner #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #cole turner x reader #drabble #series #crossed wires #au #backwoods au #defending jacob #ghosted

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untaemedqueen · 2 years ago

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At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 12.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Soft Dom!Jeongguk, Spanking, Riding, Praise, Unprotected Sex, Daddy Kink

A/N: My mouse batteries are slowly dying and I don’t have extra so this chapter is a rush job to publish. I’ll do a tag list next time probably.

Now seated at the table, Jeongguk squeezes your hand as if to let you know you don't need to be nervous.

The air since his two best friends arrived has been thick and hazy, emotions of distrust and awkwardness swimming through the atmosphere. It seems like it's a tangible thing, if you're being honest. Like the distrust from these two is going to wrap around your neck and choke you out.

It doesn't help that their eyes are hazed over with discomfort either.

They're protective.

You know this to be true but they're not putting a foot forward and you being who you are, you're immediately recoiling within yourself and trying to stack a huge wall up just in case one of them tries and offends you.

You've become soft with the escort by your side in such a short amount of time that your brain and heart are trying to make up for the damage.

Guk, who's been looking between both parties, is watching you fight the inner turmoil within yourself now. He's worked so hard to break down your walls and he won't forgive his friends if he has to start all over again.

Taehyung looks you over once more, something he's been doing since he stepped foot in this apartment.

"Dinner's almost ready," Guk announces, trying to start some flow of conversation.

Maybe Jimin's been waiting for someone to speak first but now he sits up straighter, bringing his glass of wine away from his lips.

"Has Gukkie cooked for you before, Y/N? Everything he makes is delicious!" Jimin raves, nudging the youngest's shoulder.

"No, I haven't but he did tell me that he learned to cook from his dad who worked in restaurants so I'm excited to try it," you reveal, adoring the way your boyfriend squeezes your knee affectionately.

Taehyung, who seems to be the most suspicious of you, raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh," he drolls, swirling his wine in his glass, "I'm surprised he told you something like that. His ex-girlfriend Chloe didn't even know that. You do know about her, don't you?"

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, not appreciating the tone his best friend is aiming your way.

"I do," you reply just as equally unamused, "I've even met her. She's… sad."

Jimin snorts into his glass of wine, chuckling at how completely devoid of emotion your voice sounds. "When did that happen?"

"I took Y/N with me to my grandmother's luncheon. She liked her a lot, accepted her faster than Chloe, which is only right because they're so completely different," Guk announces, standing up to check the oven.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look that you can only deem as surprise and they seem to be having an unspoken conversation with just looks.

You understand being protective of your boyfriend. Hell, you're protective of him too. So even though the wall is still building back up within you, you accept his two friends' caution.

"How'd you get into the wine business?" Taehyung asks, his voice a tad less judgy then previous statements.

"I don't know if Y/N wants to tell that stor-" you boyfriend begins, opening the oven.

"It's okay," you promise, cutting him off.

He looks over at you with soft eyes, trying to read your body language and expression but he finds no fierceness within you at the moment.

"I too had a significant other that was really terrible and toxic for me. When that went to shit I decided to build up an empire for myself so that my name would always be out there. I made a name for myself so he wouldn't forget. Wine just happened to be the thing I had the most knowledge in," you tell his two friends, pouring yourself another glass of the deep red alcohol.

Jimin hums in agreement, nodding thoughtfully at your words.

To be honest, when these two men met Chloe, they were immediately turned off. She carried herself in such a way that it was embarrassing to watch. She was spoiled and whiny, completely the opposite from their youngest friend.

You're completely the opposite. Even though you have a rough disposition to you, the friends are already warming up to you.

If Jeongguk is serious about you you're not going anywhere anytime soon and they're going to have to get used to this.

"Guk's been getting bottles of wine from your company for months now, maybe it was destiny," Jimin suggests with a smile.

Taehyung beside him only chooses to stare down into his glass of wine. He only looks up when he's decided on what to say. "We're very protective of him. He was hurt badly by Chloe, almost as if he was losing himself every step of the way. We just don't want to see that again."

You nod understandingly, looking over at your boyfriend who's lost himself into the role of being the host for the evening.

"I would never want to see him hurt," you reply, watching how he takes the lid off the pot carefully, "I care about him more than I care about myself."

The escorts two best friends share a look with one another and Taehyung continues to nod thoughtfully until your boyfriend speaks up.

"Okay! Dinner's ready!" he beams, passing you a new bottle of wine.

He kisses the top of your head sweetly, setting down the hot pot on the table.

When Guk looks over at his best friends while you're consumed with opening the bottle, he simply tilts his head as if to ask if they'll accept you.

Jimin gives him a cheerful wink while Taehyung begrudgingly nods.

"Good," Jeongguk hisses happily, hearing the cork pop forcefully from the bottle.

With a groan, the escort crawls into his bed beside you.

"It's a nice room," you breathe, looking around at the multitude of framed small artworks.

When Hawking jumps up onto the bed, forcing Guk closer to you with how massive he is, your boyfriend only rolls his eyes playfully.

"Thanks, buddy," he breathes, looking behind him with a wistful scowl.

"What'd you think today?" the escort inquires, drifting his lips over your shoulder.

Turning to him, you lay your head on your hand. His arm curls around your waist like needy vines and his chocolate irises bore deeply into yours. The moonlight that streaks through his windows is hazy and bright highlighting all of his perfect features for your eyes to feast on.

"I expected them to be cautious of me," you reply, allowing him to get closer.

Guk runs his finger from your waist to your hip, lifting up the short nightgown you have on.

"They warmed up. They know you aren't going anywhere," he promises, letting his fingers dig sweetly into the globes of your backside.

When you hiss softly and move closer, your boyfriend groans wantonly.

"You don't know what you do to me," he whispers, rearing his hand back to spank your backside.

You writhe beneath his touch, mewling when he immediately soothes your stinging skin.

When he goes to climb over you, Hawking won't budge for a second, already comfortable with the place that he's deemed his own for the night.

The escort rolls his eyes, trying once more before huffing out impatiently.

"I swear this dog sometimes…" he mumbles, lifting your leg over his own and showing you his simple strength by tugging you close.

You can feel how hard he is as it rests against your inner thigh. His cock is throbbing for relief and you can only bite your lower lip with anticipation.

"Tell daddy what you want," Guk hisses, pulling your lip from between your teeth with his thumb.

"You, I want you," you gasp, pressing your breasts to his chest.

"Mmm," he hums, entering his thumb into your mouth slowly.

You swirl your tongue around the digit, feeling your liquid arousal gushing out of you at the loud groan he admits from your actions.

"Fuck, look at you," your boyfriend hisses, watching how your cheeks hollow around his thumb.

When he goes to pull his hand away from your mouth, you gently bite down on him playfully.

His bottom lip purchases between his teeth and he whines softly at the sting. "Be a good girl, baby."

You let him go begrudgingly, giving him a gentle smile as he narrows his eyes at you.

"You're really asking for it tonight," he mumbles, entering you with one hard thrust.

You gasp loudly, grabbing onto his muscled arms.

"Fuck," he seethes through his teeth, dipping his head down to kiss at your breasts, "you're so damn tight."

His lips pluck sweetly at your nipple, starting a smooth, relentless pace with his thrusts.

Your mind muddles with each snap of his hips and you can barely think or string a single thought together.

You can only focus on how his smooth, thick cock fucks deeply into you, gently tapping the mushroom head to your soft cervix folds with ever thrust.

"O-Oh my God," you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

"That's it, baby," Jeongguk whispers breathlessly, pulling away enough to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingertips, "I love to see you so fucked out for me. I love how dumb you get on my cock."

You can only babble in response, pushing your hips down to meet his.

"You're so fucking wet, my God!" your boyfriend groans loudly, flipping you over to ride him.

Hawking lifts his head and huffs out gruffly before hopping off the bed with a yawn.

The escort spreads your knees wider, pushing the comforter off the both of you to see you in your entirety above him. His hands grip at the soft, fleshy globes of your ass roughly and you begin to ride him with as much fervor as you can muster.

"Oh fuck! Good girl!" Guk praises loudly, letting his head loll back at the pleasure.

You can only whimper, adoring how the head of his cock taps against the spongy patch of nerves within you.

"Goddamn, look at you," your boyfriend hisses, spanking your ass with strong hands.

Your skin smarts, only adding to the immense pleasure and your body shivers at the impending explosion that is readying itself within you.

"C'mere," Guk hisses, sitting up and lifting you up slightly with ease.

"I fuckin' feel it. I want you to cum all over this cock. Give it to me, baby girl," he orders, fucking up into you roughly.

You can only squeal, digging the heels of your feet into his terse thighs.

Wrapping one arm around your back, he holds you close. The warmth you feel, the closeness you feel, it only brings you that much closer to your own release.

His golden skin sings with a sheen of sweat and you can't get over how impossibly handsome he is before you. He looks up at your pleasured face as if you hold the keys to the entire galaxy and the vast beyond.

He has three words on the tip of his tongue that he won't dare say because he's afraid to push you away. He adores you in all honesty, you're the first real, tangible thing he's ever gotten the pleasure to experience.

He's falling fast and he has no hope to come up from breath anytime soon.

"Oh, baby," he moans, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

When your lips touch, it's like wildfire. The pleasure, the passion it soars through you like fireworks and you can only grip onto him in hopes of not losing yourself.

The gentle squeaks and whimpers you give against the pretty pink petals of his lips makes him put in all his effort into his thrusts.

"Daddy!" you cry out, feeling the bubble within you about to burst.

"Go ahead, baby girl. Cum on my cock," he grunts, accepting the way you bury your face into his neck.

When your thighs quiver and lock, when your cries become short and loud, your boyfriend's eyes flutter shut. Such peace, such pleasure, he's never known it like this before.

When you orgasm around him, sobbing his pet name, he pulls you down with him.

"Shit! You're incredible!" he praises as your cunt rhythmically clutches around his cock begging to milk him for all he's worth.

His thrusts become slower and harder, shivering below you until his hips stutter all together.

Ropes of his warm seed paint your walls and he whispers your name reverently, coasting his large hand over your back.

"Oh baby," he sighs softly, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

You don't move off of him, coddling to him like some sort of needy animal.

Pulling the blanket up with a tired arm, he covers both of your bodies.

Your hair is splayed all over his chest and your face is so perfectly nestled into his neck that he can't hope for anything else but this.

You're too tired to move, satiated beyond belief. Maybe it's the stress of the day now turning into sleepiness but your boyfriend is the most comforting body pillow below you at this moment.

Brushing your hair back and behind your shoulder, Guk lifts his head to lay it down on his arm. His fingers draw unimaginably soft random shapes to your skin and it's so peaceful to watch your face become highlighted by the moon's rays.

While you can still be deemed a puzzle, a Rubik's cube, he's slowly figuring out the answer.

When your breathing becomes more shallow, he lets himself utter the words he's been holding while he thinks you're asleep.

"I'm falling in love with you," he whispers, holding you closer to him.

Your eyes open, not daring to look up at him but you can hear the emotion in his voice. You can see the way he swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing with every one.

You know he thinks you're sleeping, you know he's speaking openly with hopes that you can't hear him right now so you let his sentence float away in the stagnant air like water down a calm river.

You're afraid to say it back. You're afraid it might be true. And you're even more afraid that you might be feeling the same way.

<------ Last Chapter Next Chapter ----->

#at your service #chapter 12 #chap 12 #ays #jeongguk smut #jungkook smut #jeongguk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook

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2knightt · 8 months ago

Note

hey! thought your writing was pretty awesome. saw your requests were open and decided to take a crack at one

the gang with a trans masc reader? doesn't have to be romantic at all, but that'd be awesome too! really just like he's tight knit with all of em and stuff, but since it's the 60s not everyone likes the reader for being trans you know? so they only have the boys and such

have a nice day and thanks for hearing me out!

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ that’s a kindness you can’t afford. ⋄ 𓍯

tags/warnings: transphobia(no explicit words/threats being said, but the gang just being defensive?), can be seen as both romantic & platonic, kinda short

ೃauthor notes⁀➷ hey boo omg i love your work you’re mad talented

—

Johnny Cade

y’know how after he got jumped by soc’s and he became a little bit shut-in? it’s GONE the SECOND anyone tries you.

“aren’t yo-“

“isn’t your girlfriend cheating in you? go worry abt that and stay outta y/n’s business, you dirty soc😒 tf.”

i feel like he kinda admires you for like being true to yourself and kinda having that ‘idgaf what people say, as long as i’m comfortable i’m alright,’ mindset.

i mean, you’d have to have it in the ‘60’s.

you did, however, have to explain what changes were being made. (if you met him pre-transition.) if you didn’t, he just wouldn’t ask questions.

to your face, of course. he goes to pony for that since he doesn’t wanna make you feel bad.

is very…aware of how you feel. probably more than you are.

like is always wondering/thinking ‘y/n wouldn’t like it here. there’s too much soc’s. i should tell them to stay away.’ or like ‘y/n’s been sleeping more, i wonder if their parents got to them.’

is constantly worrying over you above himself. why? he doesn’t know !!!

genuinely just wants to protect you from everyone

he might see you as an object to be babied but he’s getting to the right mindset it’s okay he’s almost there

Dallas Winston

scary dog privileges !

if someone who thought dallas wouldn’t speak up if they said smth about u, THEY’RE SO WRONG

he’s shoving them, punching, kicking, bodyslaming, etc.

he does NOT play about you. NEVER !!!!

“you’re a-“

“you wanna say that shit louder? huh? you wanna say that shit louder, asshole?😐😒”

he’d totally berate them while like shoving their shoulder LMFAO

was kinda(very) clueless about you being trans. like, he didn’t understand, but he kinda did? it was confusing for him at first, but he got the hang of it at the end !!!!

he just needed a little bit !!!

i feel like he’d give you his old, beat up jackets if you didn’t have much masc clothing.

“here.”

“???you’re giving me your old leather jacket?😞☹️???”

“don’t mention it. or destroy it. destroy it and i kick your head in.”

since ur transition, he probably got a little more…aggressive? but not in a bad way!!! like, you know how dudes like slightly shove their friends or like teasing them and it genuinely sounds mean??

that’s what he does now, not often.

tough love, i guess!!!

ponyboy curtis

asks questions. not in a bad way—never. he loves you too much to be mean to you!

he’s just very curious.

“how’d you find out? how long have you known?”

gets very defensive of you too, but more in a gossipy way. like he’ll just glare at the person and then when you two are alone he’ll lay into them and spill their secrets!

“i don’t know why they were talking. they literally just got caught with mary jane awhile back. they should be worryin’ ‘bout that charge and not what you wanna be.”

gives you hair grease and if you let him do your hair—you’ll NEVERR regret it!! you always leave lookin’ sososo handsome<3

draws you?? you know how he draws dallas?? yeah. yeah…

sodapop curtis

if you EVER and i mean EVER need advice for clothes, hairstyles, shoes, etc—GO TO SODA. he’s the gang’s prettyboy for a REASON.

he’ll make you feel like the most handsome boy on the planet.

however, do not trust that boy with scissors. he WILLL fuck up ur hair LMFAO

defends u like it’s his job. forget the fucking DX—WHAT DO YOU MEAN A SOC CALLED YOU STUPID AND DIRTY!?

“hey, you! the grease with the-“

“CAN YOU BACK THE FUCK UP? WITH YOUR DIRTY ASS POLO SHIRT, MAN HOP OFF HIS DICK YOU DAMN-“

soda’s affectionate asf. no matter WHO it is.

tell him you’re feeling a little insecure and his kissing your temple while telling you you’re the most handsome boy he’d ever seen.

darry curtis

if you’re tryna get all buff, darry is so happy to take you exercising with him lol

it’d be such a cute bonding moment😭🫶

“push to 75lbs, y/n.”

“HOW THE FUCK”

“easy, now. go slow toward it.”

he doesn’t need to shout or yell at anyone. darry just stands behind you with his arms crossed.

mmm personal bodyguard darry is real.

DARRY TOTALLY PUTS YOU INTO A HEADLOCK AND LIKE RUFFLES YOUR HAIR EVERY NOW AND THEN!!

if you wanna be the textbook definition of a manly ass dude, copy darry. he’s fucking him

steve randle

he teaches you about cars because he thinks it’s manly.

if you don’t like cars—HE DGAF LMFAOOO just stand there and pretend you’re listening frl.

HE IS A RABID DOG WHEN SOMEONE INSULTS YOU.

“GET THE HELL AWAY YOU DIRTY SOC!1! HOW ‘BOUT YOU GO CRYING TO YOUR MOM?”

teaches you how to fight. like seriously is acting like this is boxing lessons. steve is making you hit the palm of his hand while going ‘not good.’

even when your punches hurt, he’s gonna be holding back a groan while still saying u gotta hit harder.

gets a little tough on you sometimes, but always fixes it with a little hair ruffle and a, ‘you look good today. real handsome.’

two-bit mathews

HE FORCESSS YOU TO PUT A CURL ON YOUR FOREHEAD LIKE HIM!!

“omg twinning🤭🤭🤭”

“you held me at knife point.”

“TWINNING.”

HE GIVES YOU YOUR OWN SWITCHBLADE FOR PROTECTION!! HE EVEN FORCED SOMEONE HE KNOWS TO ENGRAVE YOUR CHOSEN NAME INTO IT!!!

lol what a cutie😔

he totally gives you his mickey shirts<3 he’s so kind isn’t he…..😊😊

isn’t afraid to stab a bitch for you. he doesn’t care.

“shut your trap before i make you.”

and then he turns around to comfort you, mumbling that you’re so handsome as he plays with the curl on your forehead!!!

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #johnny cade x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #two-bit x reader #two-bit mathews x reader #two bit matthews x reader

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notmozzi · 2 years ago

Text

A Healthy Distraction (Kiriko x Reader)

nsfw

Suffering with social anxiety, you find yourself unable to socialize at a college outing you’d been invited to by your friends. Luckily for you, Kiriko was allowed to tag along as your plus-one. And she has an idea or two for how to get your mind off things.

A/N: apologies in advance if the reader’s characterization here is a bit out of place for you. i wanted to make something a bit closer to home for myself and some friends when writing this. but otherwise, i hope you enjoy<3

———————————

This punch is ass.

You thought with a furrow of your eyebrows, glaring down at the strangely off-colored beverage you sipped at idly. In your opposite hand was your phone, open to Instagram and randomly switching between other social media apps as you absentmindedly scrolled. The bitter aftertaste of your drink continued to make you cringe, but the way your heart raced, complimenting your headache, reminded you that there was a reason you were there in the first place.

You stood alone near the kitchen, leaning against the wall and watching people mingle from afar. You had been invited by some friends from college to a reunion. A party. A very large party. And while the event sounded relatively tame, it was anything but. Women laughed, hollered, jumped and shook their asses to whatever club music the guy in charge of the aux had blaring through the speakers, and the frattiest men imaginable came moseying along- grinding their hips against anyone that let them. And the sight of all of this brought more sickness to your stomach than the punch.

You just wanted to go home.

However, just as you returned to scrolling through your phone, a familiar and comforting voice brought you back to your senses.

“Y/N?” Your eyes lit up softly at the sight of your girlfriend, Kiriko Kamori, approaching while holding a solo cup in each hand. Concern laced her features. She slid past some other partogoers as she made her way up to you, giving you a better view of her casual, yet very nice outfit.

“I got you some water.”

Preparing to compliment her floral jacket, you silently thanked the taller woman by smiling at her warmly, curiously eyeing the cups as you stuffed your phone into your pocket and took one from her. “��How’d you know I wanted water?”

Kiriko leaned up against the same wall you had been up against, arms crossing over her white crop. Looking at you with an amused expression, her tone was almost accusatory, a subtle smirk on her face as she glanced down at your punch.

“You don’t like alcohol.”

Realization hit you like a truck, your now widened eyes shooting downwards to stare at the “punch” in your other hand. Frozen in place, you could only listen as Kiriko let out a flurry of giggles in response, and your face burned.

“I keep forgetting that you hardly go to parties.” Her tone was gentle but her amusement at your predicament was clear as day, making you nearly pout at her as she went on. “People enjoy adding alcohol to the kid-friendly drinks. And often times? It’s vodka.”

Vodka??? You nearly hurled right then and there, your throat burning and cheeks feeling prickly. Kiriko sighed, her grin more affectionate than taunting now.

“Aren’t you a partygoer?” You mumbled, a hint of snarkiness in your tone in retaliation to her laughter.

“Mhm,” Kiriko hummed, still smirking, “but I hardly drink, and when I do, you know it’s not vodka.”

…Fair enough.

“Seriously, though,” Kiriko went on, her expression growing soft, “you haven’t seemed…great, since we got here.” Her gaze shifted back towards the crowd as she leaned her back flat against the wall. “I know you don’t really like parties, but you still said you’d try.” Her voice was hushed as people began to pass, not closely enough to touch, but closely enough to potentially eavesdrop. “And I think you’re doing a great job, by the way.”

The praise made you blush, a soft smile fighting its way onto your lips. Kiriko was a natural charmer; it was a huge trait of hers that had initially drawn you in, and it still never ceased to fluster you.

“Thanks.” You finally managed, your “punch” tossed into a trashcan by now and your arms crossed as you sipped at the cold water Kiriko gifted you. It felt way better against your throat than the burning sensation of the alcoholic drink you’d mistakenly ingested moments before, and you sighed with relief.

“And, yeah, to be honest,” you went on, looking down, “I’m just not feeling it tonight. I don’t really wanna talk to anybody but you.”

Now was Kiriko’s turn to blush, and you found yourself smiling proudly at the silence that ensued.

“…I get it.” Kiriko eventually murmured, comfort lacing her words. “Anxiety’s a bitch, and tonight it nabbed you. It’ll be okay, Y/N.”

The way one of her hands reached up to comfort you through gentle, tender upper-back massages helped you relax, and your muscles sighed in relief as your nerves ebbed away. Your girlfriend stood close beside you, her presence keeping your mind at ease as you two people-watched for a few long, silent but comforting moments.

Kiriko, unbeknownst to you, glanced over at you from time to time during this, her soft brown gaze glistening with curiosity as she observed your stature. You were clearly not enjoying yourself, and staying here would only prove to worsen things even if she had chosen to stick around.

It became obvious to her that you both needed to find an excuse to leave. And she knew that it’d be hard, fighting all of your college and even highschool-long friends to convince them that they were busy at, what- 11pm at night, and therefore had to leave.

Not to mention, they were probably drunk. There was no convincing these guys when they were drunk.

Continuing to watch you, Kiriko remained silent, weighing out her options, when her little ideas began to shift in nature. Her eyes looked over you in your entirety- from your face, down your neck, all the way to your hips, and a vague, musing little smirk made itself onto her features. While you couldn’t see it, her expression read anything but tame ideas.

Her cheeks grew warm, and as her thoughts gradually grew more sensual than ethical, she opened her mouth to speak.

“Y/N…” Her tone was laced with something you quickly recognized as mirth, and you immediately side-eyed her with a suspicious look that read ‘what are you planning?’

“…we should leave.”

Oh? Maybe her idea wasn’t so ridiculous.

“Sure.” You were quick to agree, pushing yourself off the wall and already taking a sarcastically long stride past Kiriko and towards the main entrance of the house (which was a good walk away).

You were stopped, however, by a hand on one of your wrists. All too quickly, your vision went blurry for just a moment as you were pulled in closer by Kiriko’s strong arm, and the surprise at being moved so fast caused you to bump into her front.

She hardly budged, and the front of your bodies quickly ended up flush against one another. You blushed, habitually looking up to see Kiriko’s expression. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed the crimson blush rising up her neck, her eyes dark.

“…I don’t think they’ll let us out that door.” Kiriko’s tone was almost mocking, but given the circumstances (being you having fallen into her), she was likely just teasing.

Whatever it was, it made you snap back childishly.

“Got a better plan, then?” You were by no means angry at your girlfriend, but you’d be damned if she continued to taunt you all night for being flustered everytime she did something that practically asked for you to get flustered.

She glanced down at you coyly, much to your confusion (though it made you blush, shocker), and she responded softly.

“Definitely.”

Having never let go of your wrist, she tugged again, this time more gently, and took a step backwards. You recognized this as her telling you to follow her.

You were unsure at first, but eventually realized that this was probably your best shot at getting out of this shitty party you’d been invited to.

Kiriko, her hand still around your wrist, damn-near dragged you up a set of spiral stairs, making sure to keep an eye out for familiar faces as she weaved through partygoers and dodged the waving elbows and hands of random dancers. Upstairs, things weren’t as chaotic, but you still felt immensely overwhelmed. Kiriko’s presence was the only thing anchoring you in.

Finally, Kiriko got to a room, far from the core of the party and definitely far from any exits. You were confused, and watched as Kiriko hurriedly opened the door and pulled you inside.

The door shut with a faint click and your wrist was let go. You immediately took in your surroundings, seeing that Kiriko had dragged you into one of the many bedrooms in the house, and you opened your mouth to question how she’d known exactly where this was.

But before you could even part your lips, you quickly found yourself being pinned to the very door you’d just entered through, two strong, slender arms planted at either side of your head and a chest pressed flush against yours.

You were stunned, but most of all, you were turned on, eyes locking with Kiriko’s as she stared down at you with an almost predatory expression. Her smirk was hardly hidden now, and it became increasingly obvious what her plan was right then and there.

“We can have our own party up here.” She playfully quipped, though her tone was suggestive as she looked you over with a coy set of eyes. “One with no dress code.”

You wanted to laugh at her ridiculous play on words, but were once again interrupted, this time, by a kiss. It was soft, a ‘warm-up’ Kiriko would’ve called it- and you hummed delightfully into her mouth at the contact. She pulled away quickly after, her expression still smug, and you noticed that her eyes were still lingering on your lips.

Kiriko wanted more, and you could tell. Eagerly, and without much thought, you brought both of your hands up and cupped her face, guiding her back down into a harder, hotter, more feverish kiss.

Kiriko immediately growled into your mouth and your stomach flipped, feeling her stand up to her full height as she brought her hands from the wall to hold onto your hips. She pulled you in, keeping your body flush against hers and ensuring that you were trapped between herself and the door.

Kiriko then deepened the kiss, tilting her head little ways and pressing her tongue against your bottom lip. You registered that she was asking for permission to go further, and you dutifully let your lips part, her tongue enthusiastically exploring your mouth. You couldn’t hold back a soft moan, almost a whimper, and the way her hands gripped your hips tighter at the sound told you just how much she enjoyed hearing you.

When air became a problem, you pulled away, breathing almost erratically as you stared up at your girlfriend with a flushed face. Kiriko’s expression was nothing short of eager now, and she was quick to pull you further into the room with an excited little grin on her face.

Clothes had never been an issue in terms of comfort between you two. Kiriko had always been the most patient, kind, comforting soul you’d been with and it didn’t take you long to feel comfortable stripping in front of her.

The vigilante often took this to her advantage when it came to sensuality, however, and tonight was one of these times.

“Strip.” She purred lowly into your ear before pulling away, going to sit patiently on the bed just a few feet ahead of you.

You quirked an eyebrow at her as she went, only slightly confused, but your face was burning up by the time Kiriko had emphasized her point, pulling her hoodie over her head in one fluid motion and tossing it to the floor.

Of course. She was now left in a crop. More specifically, your favorite of hers, one that dauned laces on the back and a large opening to reveal the majority of her back. Either she’d planned this, or she’d wanted to tease you throughout the night and do this after.

You sly fox.

But you knew better than to comment now. Kiriko was sitting with a patient look, and eagerly, you obeyed her.

By the time you were left in your undergarments, Kiriko was already back to you, pulling you onto the bed as she kissed you excitedly on the mouth, shoulders, and just underneath your jaw. The sensations made your brain run rampant, and you pressed up against her as she went, silently pleading for her to just press your face into the pillows and fuck you silly.

She seemed to read your mind, letting you settle on the mattress before following suit and guiding your chest downwards with her hand. You were flat on your back, knees bent, and Kiriko wasted no time in landing herself between them, gently prying them apart with a single hand. Her smirk sent heat straight to your clit, and she eyed you over with mischief.

“Eager?”

Blushing, you huffed with playful indignation, rolling your eyes and glancing up at the ceiling sheepishly. “You’re the one who planned this, clearly.”

Kiriko quickly understood what you were referring to. “What? I can’t dress up a little for a party?”

You felt a pang of jealousy stab at your heart and you pouted a second time. She only smirked at you, clearly amused, and that only made you angrier.

“Of course I dressed like this for you.” She lost her smug expression for just a moment and smiled warmly, though suggestiveness never left her tone as she leaned in close, hovering over you. “This is all for you. Only you.”

The passion behind those words set your body ablaze, and you were quick to pull Kiriko down by her hoodie into another searing kiss. The distant sounds of the ongoing party outside of the bedroom reminded you both that you didn’t have as much time as you would have preferred. But, of course, you both also knew that the time crunch only made for hotter, faster, rougher sex. And you both enjoyed that.

Kiriko pulled away, panting hotly as she sat up and hooked her fingers around the hem of your pants. You lifted your hips dutifully, allowing your pants to slide off with ease, and Kiriko was quick to remove the second layer of covering you wore as well. Her eagerness was arousing.

You were soaked, and a shy blush crept its way up your neck. Kiriko smiled affectionately at you, though, giving you a look of fondness that was quick to comfort you.

“You’re so cute.” She whispered, taking her sweet time to gaze at your heat with unbridled want, yet also a sense of curiosity that, strangely enough, turned you on even more.

You initially resisted the urge to close your legs, but Kiriko’s hands were gently, yes assertively, on each knee anyways. You shuddered. She was keeping you right where she wanted you to be, and that level of dominance was exhilarating for you.

Suddenly, two chilly, slender fingers dragged their way between your slick folds, eliciting a sharp gasp from you and a satisfied, low hum from the woman above you. You keened as her nails circled your clit, the ends of her fingers already coated in your excitement. Kiriko smiled softly at the reaction, her pupils dilating as she watched you writhe beneath her touch.

“F-Fuck…” You’d forgotten how good Kiriko’s fingers felt. It had admittedly been some time. You were already shuddering at every little move she made, her fingers barely prodding at your entrance yet continuing to focus on your clit. It was as if she were teasing you, but you knew deep down that she was only making sure you were slick enough to take her with ease. Which wouldn’t have been a problem regardless.

All too soon, Kiriko slid her middle finger inside of you, pushing up to the knuckle and slightly further. You arched, your hips gently bucking into her hand as she slowly began thrusting into you.

“Aww…look at you.” The woman above you purred, and you wanted to pout but couldn’t find it in you to do so. The sensation of that single finger against your sensitive walls only had your body aching for more, and your hands desperately clutched at the bedsheets beneath you.

“That’s my good girl, taking me so well. Just like she always does.” Kiriko’s voice was hushed, and the look in her eyes was one of both genuine affection and sheer mirth. It turned you on to an embarassing extent, and you shut your eyes to avoid being victim to such a gaze for much longer. It didn’t do you very well, though.

“You like my fingers that much, puppy?” Kiriko breathed, bringing her lips down to your ear and murmuring into the crook of your neck, “You know how much I love seeing you like this.”

The way a subtle laugh could be heard lacing her every word sent fire shooting up your spine. And suddenly, Kiriko was quick to insert her ring finger into you almost too swiftly, causing an unholy noise mixed with surprise and pleasure to fall past your lips. It made Kiriko giggle, and you flushed deeply.

Kiriko sped up. Your shallow breaths began shifting into long, high-pitched whines. Kiriko’s thumb was expertly assaulting your clit, gently enough to not overstimulate you, but harshly enough so you could feel it just enough.

And you definitely felt it, on top of her slender digits, pumping in and out of you and (most likely) drenched in your slick. It was almost embarrassing, hearing the wet sounds coming from between your legs, but hearing those sounds on top of the ruckus just outside the door was honestly so, so hot. You felt so dirty, so desperate, like a slut, but you were shameless about it. Kiriko had you all to herself, and knowing that she’d do anything to prove that, even in public, made you want to moan at just the thought.

As your core began to twist and churn, Kiriko held herself further above you, her face no longer as close to yours as she stared down at you. You opened your eyes and inhaled sharply as you saw that hungry, predatory gaze in a closer vicinity.

“Look at me when you cum, Y/N.” Kiriko murmured, sounding gentle but most definitely giving you an order. Her hand didn’t show mercy on you; matter of fact, it went even harder. She rocked into you roughly, her thumb harsh against your clit and fingers curling into your most sensitive spots. It was addicting, feeling Kiriko work her magic on you. You were completely and utterly entranced under her spell. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your climax was approaching. You whimpered desperately, feeling the coil within you begin to grow closer and closer to snapping.

“K-Kiriko…mmnnff- fuck, you feel s-so-“

“I know, baby.” She cooed, leaning down to bring her lips to yours, barely close enough for a kiss. You locked eyes with her, feeling the urge to shut yours yet finding yourself unable to.

“Let go for me, Y/N. I’m right here.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck-

White clouded your vision and a broken sob fell from you as your orgasm finally hit. Like a wave, it surged through you wildly and heavily, and your hands reached up to desperately cling onto Kiriko’s shoulders.

She happily let you, kissing you passionately as soon as your climax hit and slowing her hand to a gentle, rhythmic rocking motion. The way her fingers coaxed you through your quick-coming yet heavy orgasm made you let out pathetic little whines, and you could feel Kiriko smile into your mouth in response.

Eventually air became an issue, and so Kiriko pulled away gently when she knew your peak had ebbed into a gentle, hazy ache. Her fingers stopped moving inside of you, and you sighed shakily as you felt her slowly remove them from your sopping wet heat.

Moments passed, ones in which you spent catching your breath. Watching Kiriko, you saw the taller woman take a look at the hand she’d used to tear you apart. And the look on her face, upon glancing at said hand, immediately made you blush. She couldn’t help but smirk a little, slyly glancing over at you and only making you more and more embarrassed.

However, that embarrassment quickly shifted to that of sheer arousal once more as Kiriko suddenly brought her glistening digits up to her own lips- putting them into her mouth and sucking them clean. You audibly gasped, making Kiriko giggle against her fingers.

And she’d put on a show while doing it, too. Her tongue lazily dragging its way between said fingers and along each knuckle, expertly lapping up your own juices within just a few seconds. Kiriko usually did this after your sessions, but again, it had been a little while. And she’d hardly ever been this…lewd, about it. You visibly shuddered, feeling the familiar ache of want ebb at your core, and you sighed a second time.

“Kiriko…fuck, you’re too much.”

“Too much?” She was quick to respond, finally finishing her work with a subtle smack of her lips and bringing her hand flat against the mattress. Still smirking, she leaned in close to you, quirking an eyebrow, “Or not enough?”

You huffed at her with playful indignace, silently hoping that she would just kiss you again. “Both.”

Kiriko took that for an answer and sat back again, rubbing your thigh affectionately with a hand as she gazed lovingly at the mess you’d (she’d) made.

“Let’s wash up and finish where we left off.”

Now was your turn to quirk an eyebrow, clearly confused. Kiriko only looked at you with confidence, though, mirth lacing her features.

“After the party.”

#overwatch #overwatch smut #overwatch headcanons #kiriko kamori #kiriko #kiriko x reader

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year ago

Text

Blind Faith (Ch. 11)

Chapter Eleven: Logic Games

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You start noticing things about Matt you haven't noticed before. Nelson & Murdock receives an invitation to the annual Bar Dinner at the New York Courthouse.

A/N: Here's the next update! This chapter really sets the plot of the story. I guess this is the start of "Act 2." I can't wait to read what you all think is going to happen. AHHH. So much more to come! Enjoy!! :)

TAGS: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse

AO3 Link

Hell’s Kitchen

Another few weeks have gone by without seeing him.

You didn’t dare think of his name, whomever he was. It wasn’t fair you gave him all that time, all that attention, all that affection, just for him to take it for granted and hurt you the way he did. Never again. You solidified it by throwing his burner phone in your apartment dumpster. You really didn’t need him to save you anymore.

At least the last few weeks have been more productive than ever. Instead of going out, you stayed in. You enjoyed the quiet in the apartment. It was just you, your LSAT textbook, and your corner desk that gave you a view of the city. If he ever crossed your mind, it was only for a second. A second that made your heart feel like it weighed a thousand pounds. And the moment he left your mind, the weight was gone.

Well, it was the summer of falling in love with vigilantes, you’d say. A summer you’d never forget—a story you’d be passing down like an urban legend. No one knew of this but only you and him.

Summer was almost at an end, but your studying wasn’t letting up. If anything, it only got more intense as each night went on. You fervently highlighted concepts of logic games, reading comprehension, and logical reasoning. You were on your second notebook now, a notebook filled with explanations of answers and helpful tips to keep in mind. It was satisfying to see how much you’ve gotten done.

You snuck in a few studying sessions before work, too. You started getting to the office even earlier. It was easier to forget him when you weren’t at home. So being at the office was a helpful distraction. It helped you focus on things at hand, not things your mind sometimes betrayed you to think of. Instead of thinking of his hands on your waist, you felt how your office chair hugged your body when you leaned back. Instead of thinking of your lips on his, you felt your lips burn at your first sip of coffee. Instead of thinking of all the times you’ve waited for him on your rooftop, you waited for Matt’s arrival to join you in the office.

And, maybe you never noticed this before, but you certainly were starting to now. One morning, Matt had come in shortly after you. You did your normal morning routine of fixing him up a cup of coffee, to which he politely declined. Slowly putting the cup back in its place, Matt walked by you in the kitchen, and you saw blood dripping down the side of his face. The gasp that left your mouth betrayed you.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked, his brows furrowed behind his dark red glasses.

“I—you’re bleeding,” you said slowly, as you began to closely inspect his wound. It was coming from his temple, poorly covered by a thin bandage. You grabbed for a napkin and before dabbing his wound, you paused.

“Can I help you clean it? It’s pretty gnarly. It might get on your shirt,” you offered in a small voice. “And you’ve got that hearing later today.”

“Yeah,” Matt said after some hesitation.

You washed your hands before removing the small bandage from his right temple. Using the napkin, you dabbed at his wound gently—you couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he hurt himself like this. Then again, he was blind…but you didn’t want to offend him.

“How’d you get this?” You asked as casually as you could.

“I bent down to get something in my bathroom cabinet,” Matt explained, “I hit my head on the door. I must’ve missed when putting my bandage on. Y’know,” he shrugged sheepishly. You dabbed his wound and tried to ignore the small space between you and your boss. He leaned on the counter with his left hand, his head tilted in the dimly lit kitchen for you to have access to his wound. You were so close, you could smell a hint of his cologne.

You found a first aid kit that was nearly out of bandaids in the kitchen. Noted. You would pick some up along with coffee and plates tomorrow.

“I don’t mean for you to take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered a guide dog?” You asked. You placed a brand new bandage that completely covered his wound. Crumpled the bloody napkin and threw it in the trash. Matt let out a soft chuckle.

“You’re not the first who’s suggested that,” Matt answered. “I don’t think I could handle a dog. I get by on my own fine, save for a few head bumps.”

“True,” you felt obliged to agree. “Well, you’re all set. Hopefully, the bandaid lasts all day. If not, I can play Nurse again.” Play nurse. That sounded so wrong, you thought. Dammit.

Matt grinned, tapping his covered wound. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. Matt cleared his throat and left the kitchen for his office. You found your place in your seat, closed your LSAT textbook, and began to work on files for Nelson & Murdock.

Later in the day, before Matt’s hearing, you changed his bandaid again, in his office. Door closed. Karen was on the phone with someone in the conference room and Foggy was locked in his office writing a brief.

You changed Matt’s bandaid. He was silent as he sat in his chair, letting you clean his wound again. You had nothing to say. But you couldn’t shake the strange feeling you got when you noticed how pained he looked, even behind his dark red glasses. It wasn’t as bloody anymore; it shouldn’t hurt anymore. But you were close enough to see how hurt he looked. Jaw clenched, brows furrowed, eyes closed. He didn’t say anything. Did it hurt that bad?

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Another day in the week, you were really starting to go through the motions of forgetting about him. It was so hard to forget how he made you feel at night. Not just the way he pleased you, but the way he made you feel safe. How you felt so much yourself around him, a stranger in the night. Except he didn’t feel like a stranger at all. How could you feel so passionately for someone whose identity you didn’t know?

These thoughts plagued your mind; it was hard to detach emotionally. Emily was a psychology major. What was it she said about physical and emotional attachments? It took longer for emotional attachments to go away? Well, it’s only been a month now. August was upon the city. And still, you thought of the emotions he stirred in you.

Instead of leaving the office at five, like everyone else, you asked if it was okay for you to study for the LSAT in the conference room after hours.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked, scrunching his nose. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I can’t imagine being stuck in the office for more than eight hours.”

“I want to,” you said, “the conference table is big enough for my books. Plus, it’s Friday night, and my roommates will be loud before they head out.”

“As long as you feel safe,” Karen added. “Text us if you need anything. It can get pretty dark in this area.”

“I’ll be fine.” An image of him flashed in your mind. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did.

“I’ll be staying late,” Matt interjected, coming out of his office. “I have a few files to catch up on.”

Karen exhaled a sigh of relief. You appreciated how concerned she was for your safety. “Okay. Okay, good.” After working here for a few months, you understood Karen has probably seen the worst of this city in ways you can’t even imagine.

“Great! Well, I guess Josie’s is off the books tonight. Unless you guys wanted to meet us in an hour or so?” Foggy asked.

“Maybe,” you were open to the idea. “Let me know where you are in two hours. And hopefully, I get enough studying in so I don’t feel guilty.”

“Awesome! Hopefully, we’ll see you later.”

Karen and Foggy left, and Matt returned to his office. You sat at the conference table for a while, completely immersed in your textbook. Your mind felt clear and focused as you took notes and answered practice problems. Copying down explanations, reading passages carefully.

A knock came on the conference door. Of course, it was Matt.

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. “How’s studying going?”

“Good,” you answered, “I’m starting to get the hang of it all. Taking practice tests. Logic games are a little tricky.”

Matt smiled, “Logic games were my favorite part of the test.”

“It’s possible to have a favorite part?” You asked incredulously. Matt laughed.

“Sometimes, it’s not about the analysis of the test, but your mindset going into it. Don’t treat it like something you have to do; treat it like a hobby.”

“Interesting,” you thought aloud. “Next study session, I’ll have to think of it that way. I don’t want to get burned out.”

“Definitely don’t get burned out,” Matt agreed. “You’ll need to be sharp on test day.”

“I know,” you said, “I’m finding a balance.” He leaned against the wall in the conference room, hands in his pockets. Your eyes trailed down to his hands. You saw how red his knuckles were. Bruised, basically.

“Did you fall, or hurt yourself again?” You asked him. Caught off guard, Matt looked confused. “Your knuckles,” you added.

“Oh,” Matt took his hands of out his pockets and kept them behind his back. “You know me.”

You worried, for some reason. But you didn’t press the situation.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind helping you with any LSAT studying,” Matt offered, “if you wanted.”

“I’d like that,” you answered, your mind trailing off from his red knuckles. “I’ll use any help I can get. I don’t want to pay for any tutors.”

“I have some time now?” Matt asked. You thought for a moment. It’s been a while since you’ve done anything else but study, and Foggy’s offer of Josie’s was tempting.

“Maybe we should meet them at Josie’s,” you suggested. “I could use a drink.”

On your way to Josie’s, you walked with Matt, his hand gently on your elbow, cane tapping in front of him. You couldn’t take your eyes off his red knuckles the whole time.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

The following Monday, Foggy got the mail from the box outside. He flipped through the envelopes: bill, bill, Super Lawyers magazine, bill, and then suddenly, a large, tapered envelope with a gold stamp appeared in the bunch. It was from the New York Courthouse. Foggy ripped open the envelope and pulled out another tapered paper, with cursive writing and a gold trim.

The New York Courthouse cordially invites Nelson & Murdock to the Bar Dinner. Please visit us on Friday, August 18th, promptly at 7 PM. Join us for a four-course meal and open bar. Please RSVP by the end of the week, and who will be joining us from your law firm. Maximum two guests.

“Matt! Matt!” Foggy came running into Matt’s office, shutting the door behind him. “We got invited!”

“We? For what? Is someone getting married?” Matt asked brows scrunched, one earplug in his ear.

Foggy sighed, “No, you idiot, to the Bar dinner! Our first invite!” Foggy read the invite aloud, and his face dropped when he realized the date.

“Oh no,” Foggy said, “it’s on the 18th. I’m going to a wedding. Marci’s cousin—damn it! I’ll be gone the whole weekend. Maybe Karen can—“

“The 18th? Karen’s on PTO. Visiting her father in Vermont,” Matt remembered. “There’s always next year, Fog.”

“No, Matt—we have to go this year. At least, one of us! And it’s got to be you,” Foggy demanded. “We need someone to represent us!”

“I thought we didn’t care about these showy things,” Matt argued, “they’re filled with nothing but a bunch of pretentious Harvard grads who only care about rubbing shoulders and money.”

“That’s true but—can’t we just play the part? For one night? Get some recognition, show these chummy lawyers what real justice is!”

“By eating fancy dinners and getting drunk?” Matt scoffed. “Come on, Fog. It’s not that important.”

“Well then, at least take advantage of the free food and make fun of the chummy lawyers. Come on, Matt. Please go. Hey! Take __, too! She would love that, don’t you think?”

Matt’s stomach twisted at the mention of you, the idea of bringing you to a fancy Bar dinner, as his date. It’s been hard enough on Matt to pretend he doesn’t love you, doesn’t care about you like that in the office—to also go to an intimate Bar dinner with you? And pretend again?

“Oh, Foggy,” Matt took his earbud out of his ear, took his glasses off and rubbed his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Foggy questioned, “It would be a great experience for her. Something fun. Get all dressed up, make connections.”

“Make connections with the same chummy lawyers we just talked about.”

“Not all of them are bad. HC&B will be there, I’m sure of it.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird, me bringing her as my…as my date?”

“Matt, why are you even thinking like that? It’s for two associates from every firm. It’ll be coworkers, it won’t look weird.”

Matt sighed, his gaze falling short. “If she wants to go, I’ll go.”

“I’ll ask her,” Foggy quickly said. “Or—actually, you should. Take her under your wing.”

“I’ll ask her at the end of the day,” Matt said lowly, regretfully.

Foggy clapped his hands, “I’m counting on you, buddy. It’ll be a good time. Make us look good.”

Matt forced a laugh as Foggy dropped the invitation on his desk. Matt ran his fingers over the texture of the paper and felt the cursive letters. He flipped the paper and sighed. It wasn’t getting any easier, working with you, talking with you. He was pretending all over again.

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

You and Matt stayed after hours again. Matt wasn’t really working, though—he was building the courage to ask you about the Bar dinner. As you wrote fervently in your notebook, studying the LSAT, Matt listened to you from his office. You whispered to yourself the questions, thought out the answers. Your heartbeat was steady. Calm. It reminded him of how you felt in his arms on your rooftop, safe. Before things went badly.

Ever since, Matt’s completely thrown himself into his work—and not his lawyer work, but his other work. He went out nearly every night and found crime to stop, at the expense of his body. So much, you were starting to notice his bruises and wounds. When you cleaned his wound that one morning, he told himself he shouldn’t let you help him. And it was worse when you actually touched him. Your touch that transported him back to your roof, when you’d let him touch you all over. He craved your touch again. When you helped him again later that day, the thought was so painful, he had to keep quiet. Keep to himself. Not let you know how your touch had an effect on him.

Matt entered the conference room, knocked on the door as he usually did. You paused your writing. By the sound of your voice, he could tell you were smiling at him. A smile he can only imagine.

“Hey,” you greeted him. “Treating this like a hobby.” You said in reference to his advice last week. Matt laughed.

“Good, good. I still want to help you study, but you seemed pretty focused.”

“Yeah," you said sheepishly, “I mean, if you want to join me now.”

Matt felt the envelope in his back pocket crinkle. It could wait. Matt reached out in front of him to feel for the desk. He sat in the chair next to you, his knee accidentally nudging yours—you were that close.

“Tell me what you’re working on,” Matt said.

Logic games, of course. You read through the problems and explained your answers to him. Matt felt like he was half there, and the other half he was thinking of all the hurtful things he’s done to you, as your savior. Talking to you like you didn’t exile him a while ago was hard. It was like talking with lead, talking with a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushed these thoughts away, explained his view on certain logic game problems. It was a good distraction, but not long enough. Your laugh in his ears, your scent in his nose, your presence next to him—all terrible and lovely reminders of what he could’ve had with you if he’d just been honest.

Matt left the conference room as you began to pack your things. He still hasn’t asked you about the Bar dinner.

When he exited his office, you nearly ran into him as you walked toward him. Your chests collided. Matt’s heart pounded as he fought the urge to pull you in close like that.

“Oh,” you jumped, “I’m sorry. I should’ve just waited by the front door.”

“No, no,” he said, “It’s okay.” He didn’t change the distance between you both, which was very close. Matt felt the envelope in his pocket. “Did you need something?”

“No, I just wanted to wait for you,” you said laughing softly.

“Oh,” Matt smiled, “okay. Well, I actually had a question for you.” He reached for the envelope in his back pocket and held it up upside down. You gently took the paper from his hands and read the invitation.

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in going,” Matt said, “with me. Foggy will be out of town and Karen’s on PTO. And he really, really wants our firm to be represented.”

“Wow,” you said in slight shock, “this is pretty legit. I’m allowed to go?”

Matt cocked his head and made a “why not” face. “If you want.”

“Definitely,” you said, holding the invitation in amazement. “I guess I’ll have to get a fancy dress.”

“I’ll have to rent a tux,” Matt chuckled. “Good. Then it’s a date. Well, you know—not a date, but—“

“I know, Matt,” you said softly. His gaze was down, his expression unreadable behind his dark red glasses. You felt the urge to take them off.

He was still standing close to you, but you felt an invisible buffer of tension between your chests. An undeniable tension you wanted to get out of immediately—not because you were scared, but because you were curious—which you thought was worse. You swallowed hard. A warmth spread in your stomach.

“We should get going, right?” Matt broke the silence. You backed away as he grabbed for his coat on the hanger.

“Right,” you agreed.

You and Matt walked outside, his hand on your elbow. When you reached the corner of the street, you turned to face him. You found he was already gazing in your direction, behind his dark red glasses.

“Well,” you began, “get home safe, Matt. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Be safe,” Matt added, holding onto your elbow as you made an attempt to walk away. You gladly fell back in his grasp. Matt’s hand let go of your elbow. His fingers gently traced the length of your forearm, fingertips stopping at your wrist. Your heart fluttered, feeling his fingertips dangerously close to your hand. Matt pulled away, and offered a smile.

“I will,” you broke the silence, still feeling his soft touch. Like his touch, your thoughts lingered on the moment for the rest of the night.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #charlie cox #daredevil #blind faith #charlie cox x reader #charlie cox x you #i wasnt planning on updating but suddenly i had this in me lol #so here it is #ahhhh

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chelseeebe · 2 years ago

Text

i’ll know.

lil epilogue for pick a side or i’ll pick you both. thought it worked best a separate little thing rather than being shoved on the end. this is like five or so years after part two.

part one. | part two.

hawkin’s was a long lost memory. the things you did. the people you knew. they were gone.

it was for the best.

you’d tried your hardest to forget it all. put it all behind and start again somewhere else. somewhere no one knew you. where you could be anyone you wanted to be.

and it worked, for a while at least. a new name, a degree, a job, new boyfriend. even new hair. a completely fresh beginning.

until one awful day at work made everything you’d built for yourself came crashing down.

you’d taken a part time job in a coffee shop, something to pay the bills while you got your masters degree. it was easy. damn sometimes it was even fun.

a regular day, making coffee for inpatient business men and stuffy women who carried purses worth more than your apartment.

‘hiya, what can i get for-,’ you look up at the man on the other side of the counter and your heart stops.

the same shaggy haircut, though now it was actually styled, not so scruffy. same eye bags with accompanying narrowed brown eyes. a mirror image of his high school self bar the light stubble now occupying his face.

‘i’ll take a black coffee, large,’ he nods, eyeing your name tag, ‘thanks tara,’ it sounds almost venomous coming from his mouth.

the bile rises, burning in your throat. you’re stuck in the same position until your coworker bumps your arm, jolting you back into reality.

‘y-yeah.. that’ll be.. uh, three dollars,’ you manage to get out, punching the numbers into the register, not entirely understanding what was going on.

‘keep the change,’ he says, offering over a handful of notes from his pocket.

your fingers brush against his hand and you want to throw up. you’d never quite been able to shake that haunting look he’d given you at the lunch table so many years ago.

like he just knew. like he could see inside of you. see all of the horrific things you’d done. how you’d murdered his girlfriend in cold blood and laughed about it.

you blink, the bright overhead lights burning your corneas and stuff the notes into the draw, slamming it shut.

absent minded you push past your coworker and out of the back door into the alleyway behind the shop. you can’t stop the acid from rising, vomiting all over the stones, splashing against the wall.

you attempt to gain some control, breathing in and out, just at least so you won’t throw up again.

pressing your back against the brick wall, counting to ten, again and again. just as your therapist had instructed.

someone joins you, leaning against the wall next to you. but doesn’t speak.

you look up to find jonathan byers perched against the wall, unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

‘what do you want?’ you speak up, running a hand over your clammy face. flushing even though you were shivering, the chill running through your bones.

‘i just thought i’d say hi to an old friend.. what’s wrong with that?’ he replies, sparking the cigarette.

you shake your head, looking up at the moody grey sky, ‘how’d you find me?’

‘ahh.. that’d be telling.’

you scoff, totally bewildered by his presence. the fact he’d come out all this way to.. what? to taunt you? finally expose what you’d done? expose your murderous past?

‘y’know.. i always thought something was off with you.. you were always cold, always just slightly not there,’ he presses, gesturing to his head.

‘why are you here? i’ve moved on.. i don’t want to think about.. hawkins anymore,’ you sniff, spitting on to the floor, trying to rid your mouth of the disgusting taste.

‘well i haven’t,’ he purses his lips, ‘you can change your hair, change your fucking name.. but i remember. i know,’ he exhales the cloud of smoke in your face, ‘and i’m not gonna let you forget it.’

he pushes himself off of the wall, stubbing his cigarette out and flicking it somewhere in the alley.

he begins to walk off but stops a few paces down the small path, speaking over his shoulder, ‘y’know steve’s in the city.. i’ll let him know about this place, great coffee by the way,’ shaking the cardboard cup as he disappears.

you turn to the wall, once again regurgitating the contents of your stomach. writhing as nancy wheeler’s once forgotten face appears in your head.

#jonathan byers #steve harrington #ghostface!reader #epilogue #steve harrington angst #stranger things x you #ghostface!eddie #eddie munson is dead

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nomoreusername · 5 months ago

Text

Lily of The Valley (Part 7)

Pairing:Aris x female reader

Summary:As Aris and you sit under the stars, you remember parts of your past.

We didn't find where the tracks end, but we did find something a lot better. An actual train.

“It’s kind of weird. Seeing them again,”He said, pointing at the night sky.

“It’s also weird that we chose the roof of the train instead of being inside it.”

“We don't get to see them from inside,”He defended.

“I didn't say it was bad. It's just that it's probably not the most conventional route.”

“Well, I can't kiss you under the stars from there, can I?”

“Because that's definitely what's happening right now,”I drew out.

“It could be, if you let me?”He asked in a way where he actually sounded serious. Leaning over, he got really close. Rolling my eyes at his antics, I looked at him as he made those stupid puppy dog eyes. Pushing his face away, I sat up before carefully putting my legs over the edge. Getting beside me, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Doing the same, I leaned against him back as he rested his head on mine.

“Hey Y/N?”

“What's up?”

“What would you do if I actually kissed you?”He almost whispered.

“Why are you asking?”

“I’m just curious.”

Staying silent, I genuinely thought about it. I took a moment and imagined what I would do if my only friend, my best friend, leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. I thought about what the way they would be slightly chapped, just like mine. Then I realized how soft they looked. How the way his gentle touch would probably mean he was just as gentle of a kisser. As if I knew all about it.

× ~ × ~ × ~ ×

“You're going to actually hurt yourself one day,”I scolded, stopping him from running before he tripped. Trying his shoes as if we weren't both teenagers, I made it a tight knot, doing bunny ears before being satisfied.

“Now the other one-”

“Isn't as tight. I already know,”I sighed, undoing his other lace before redoing it to the same way I did his other.

“I was going to do it,”He insisted as I stood up.

“Well, if you did it, it wouldn't match.”

“How’d you even know that mattered to me?”He pointed out.

“I’m your best friend. I know everything that matters to you,”I grinned.

“Really? Like what?”

“For starters, the most important thing of all, me,”I announced, putting my hands in the air and quickly spinning around. Grabbing them, he spun me once more before almost stepping on my toes. Pulling away from him, I rolled my eyes the way I usually did.

“Hey. I need to become a good dancer,”He complained.

“For what?”

“For the most important thing to me. You,”He said, wearing a cheeky grin.

“I love being right.”

“I know you do. That's why I tell you when you are,”He admitted.

“That sounds like something you would do, but you know what sounds even better?”I asked.

“What?”

“Tag!”I said quickly, sprinting off before he could catch me. After a moment of shock he chased after me. Holding in a laugh, I turned a corner to find our way to the roof. Pushing the door open, I started to open the hatch when he went in before it could shut. Touching my shoulder, he tried to leave only for me to touch his head and shout no tag backs while getting out the door. Going after me, he pulled me into him, his fingertips tickling my sides. Slapping his hands away, I kicked out of his grip before landing on the floor.

“Are you okay?”He asked quickly, kneeling beside me.

“No. I’m dying,”I groaned, lying on the ground while putting my arm in the air.

“Oh no,”He played along, forcing tears. “I shall mourn you forever.”

“As you should.”

“That's not your line.”

“Then what is it?”

“A love confession to make this scene hurt more to our imaginary audience,”He sighed, clicking his tongue as he gestured for me to do so.

“How dare I forget,”I said, clearing my throat before starting. “Aris Jones, before it's too late, before I never see the light of day, I need you to know how much you have always meant to me. So I will now. While it didn't start at the beginning, I still felt a draw to you. I felt pulled in so I let myself go to you. And it was the only good times I’ve had in my life. Was with you. Whether it was on the roof, studying in our rooms, helping you when you're too close to the edge, chasing you like our lives our nothing but each other, holding in laughs when we glance at each other during serious discussions, or when you try to dance with me, the only time life has purpose is when it has you. So that night when I broke for the first time, when I wondered if I was even good enough to be a worker, when I wondered if I was doing the right thing, I ended up at your door. Because there will never be anywhere else to go. And you let me in. You let me cry on your shoulder and promised to always be there. And you have always kept that promise. And you held me too. You promised everything would be okay. And even though I didn't have answers, I believed you. But I was too tired to go, too drained to move. So I slept next to you. And when you laid under the covers with me, still holding me and swearing to never leave me alone, I knew that the reason my heart always went to you wasn't because of how close we were. It was because I wanted us to be even closer. I wanted us as lovers.”

Opening my eyes, I saw how close he was to me. So close that our noses almost touched as his lips were almost connected to mine. Looking up at his eyes, I realized that his gaze was softer than it had ever been, almost as if he was sure the world truly was nothing but us. With him completely fixated on me, his expression could almost be described as blank. His heart though, I could hear it beating too fast. Or maybe that was mine.

And I took in all of this for only a second before he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, his hand on my jaw as he kissed me.

I could kiss back. I mean this wasn't something I hadn't thought of. That I hadn't dreamed of only to wake up too cold with my skin yearning for him to touch me.

But I knew what this could do to us. That our friendship could fall to nothing if I let this happen.

Pushing him off, I lost all words as I stared at him. With his expression dropping in a fraction of a second, he mumbled an apology as he removed his hands from me, leaving me with that itching sensation that could only be fixed by him.

“I don't think of you that way,”I convinced both of us.

“I’m sorry. I just got kind of carried away with the speech, and it just seemed really real. I’m sorry. I didn't think before I did that,”He apologized.

“It's fine. It’s not like it meant anything. We're just friends,”I smiled, sitting up.

“Yeah, yeah. We're just friends,”He uttered, his voice quiet.

“Exactly. So come on. Let's head to bed before you injure me again,”I suggested, standing up and holding out my hand. Accepting it, he didn't let go as we walked back to our rooms, pretending that hadn't happened.

And as I shut my door, I scrubbed my skin raw in the shower to get rid of that uncomfortable feeling without him. I showered until I was sure I had erased that type of touch from him. Then I stepped out and forced it out of my head so that way when I woke up everything could stay normal. Stay the way it has to.

And the tears from my eyes were just because my ankle hurt from when I fell. Not because I kept wondering if I had screwed up by not giving in and kissing him back. Not because I was sure that I had messed up by not touching him, not holding him, not allowing us to be more.

No. I didn't even think about that as I cried myself to sleep, sobbing into my pillow as my body, mind, and heart filled with regret.

Because that would have been really, really stupid.

× ~ × ~ × ~ ×

“Probably push you away and vomit,”I shrugged.

“Oh,”He said quietly, his arm falling from around me as he placed it in his lap. Doing the same, I still kept my head on his shoulder to make sure nothing changed. And he still let me because he knew just as well as I did how important not messing up every wonderful thing that we are is. I mean what was there to even mess up with a silly question?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

All Parts

Because his question meant nothing. So I’ll just go to sleep until we wake up as the same thing we were before that moment.

Next Chapter

#aris jones #aris x reader #tmr aris #aris tmr #aris maze runner #maze runner aris #the maze runner #tmr #tmr fanfic #long fanfic #friends to lovers #slow burn #part 7

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depressedhouseplant · 8 months ago

Text

🔞 Back Door (Chanlix) 🔞

Synopsis: When Chris is dumped the night before his wedding his attempts to cope lead him to what he really needed - a sympathetic ear with a great ass

Tags: First time bottoming, recreational drug use, dubious consent (Chris is high & newly dumped & Felix is sober), lingerie, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unprotected sex, there’s a little bit of plot in here

A/N: Another repost from AO3 - enjoy!

Chris looked at his phone for the 10th time that night. The message was still the same.

Hyunjin: I can’t do it.

They were supposed to get married tomorrow. They’d been engaged for over 6 months. Why couldn’t he have decided this sooner? He had plenty of time to decide that he couldn’t go through with it. Instead he’d sent Chris a text message a few hours ago breaking it off. He didn’t even have the decency to say it to Chris’s face. There were so many people he had to tell. Instead, he’d gone to a club near the hotel. The kind of place no one would recognize him. They’d never realize that the heir to the Bang empire had been dumped by his social climbing fiancé.

“Another one?” the bartender asked. Chris looked down at his glass. The alcohol was hardly doing anything.

“Don’t suppose you have anything stronger?” he asked. The bartender raised an eyebrow, then seemed to realize what Chris was asking.

“There’s a guy in the back. He might be able to help,” he replied.

“Thanks,” Chris paid for his drinks and got up.

“Private room at the end of the hall,” the bartender said.

Chris navigated his way down the hall and knocked on the only door he found.

“Come in,” he heard from the other side. There was a lean blond man sitting in a plush booth. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he scrolled through his phone.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I was told you might have something a little...stronger...than alcohol,” Chris said slowly. The man put his phone down and took the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Depends. What are you looking to forget?” he asked.

“I got dumped,” Chris replied.

“Everybody gets dumped,” the man replied.

“Does everybody get dumped the night before they’re supposed to get married over a text message?” Chris asked.

“Sit,” the man gestured to the seat across from him. “I’m Felix.”

“Chris,” he slid in across from him.

“Uppers or downers?” Felix asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.

“I honestly don’t care,” Chris sighed. Felix leaned over and pulled out a bag.

“Gummy bears?” Chris asked when he examined the bag.

“Weed,” Felix put out his cigarette. “For a rich kid, you certainly don’t know shit about drugs.”

“Am I supposed to?” Chris asked.

“I get people like you in here asking for cocaine and heroin,” the other man told him. “Eat a couple of those and you’ll feel better. If nothing else, it’ll take the edge off.”

“How’d you know I was rich?” Chris asked.

“Your Versace shirt was a good first clue,” he replied. Chris looked down at his shirt. Felix smiled. “And I recognize you.”

“You do?” Chris asked.

“Like your face hasn’t been all over the news? Chris Bang is getting married. I heard anyone who was anyone was coming to your wedding,” Felix said.

“Yeah, well, now nobody’s coming,” Chris stuffed a gummy in his mouth. It wasn’t bad.

“What happened?” Felix asked.

“I don’t fucking know. He sent me a text telling me that he couldn’t go through with it. Whatever that means,” Chris started chewing on another gummy.

“Sure he wasn’t cheating on you?” Felix asked.

“What?” Chris almost choked on the gummy.

“You think he would’ve waited this long if he wasn’t?” Felix shrugged.

“I mean...I dunno...” Chris coughed. Felix slid him a glass of water.

“If he was marrying into your family’s money, he wouldn’t end it unless he was getting a good dicking somewhere else,” the other man shrugged.

“You think?” Chris asked.

“I’m the reason for a lot of divorces. I also know how to read people. If he isn’t fucking someone else, then he never loved you in the first place,” Felix said.

“Both great options,” Chris sighed.

“You might want to slow down on those,” Chris had already eaten four of them.

“Do you want one?” Chris asked.

“I’m good,” Felix laughed. Chris closed the bag. They looked over when they heard a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” Felix called.

“You busy?” a voice replied.

Felix looked at Chris.

“Yeah, come back later,” he said.

“Okay,” came the reply after a beat of silence.

“Who was that?” Chris asked.

“No one who can’t wait,” Felix got up and locked the door. “Some people don’t believe in knocking.”

“Oh. Right,” Chris said.

“I’m not locking you in here to take advantage of you,” Felix replied.

“Would you?” Chris asked.

“Would I what?” Felix asked.

“Take advantage of me?” Chris was starting to feel the gummies.

“Of course not. I’m not that kind of guy. I’m not gonna say no if you want to take advantage of me, though,” the blond grinned.

“But...you’re not...what?” Chris looked at him. Felix laughed again. He sat down next to Chris.

“If it’ll make you feel better, I’m happy to let you ride my cock,” he said. “You are single now.”

“You are really hot,” Chris brushed his fingers down Felix’s face. “And I’m high and getting fucked sounds amazing.”

“I can take you somewhere nicer than my place of business,” Felix put his hand on Chris’s thigh.

“What’s wrong with right here?” Chris asked.

“I don’t keep lube in my office,” Felix winked.

“Oh, yeah,” Chris realized.

“I’ll close up early and take you back to my place. Sound good?” Felix suggested. Chris leaned over and kissed him. Felix tasted like cigarettes and fried food. He felt Felix put his hand on his lower back as he sucked on the dealer’s tongue.

“Come on. Let me take you home and fuck you like you deserve,” Felix pulled him up and kissed him again. Chris stumbled a little, but Felix caught him into his chest. He was stronger than Chris anticipated.

“Wow,” he breathed.

“You’re welcome,” Felix looped his arm around Chris’s waist. “Come on, rich boy.”

He grabbed his phone and keys, locking the room behind them. A car was waiting outside with a bored looking driver.

“What’s this?” Chris asked.

“Our ride,” Felix explained. He got in and Chris crawled on top of him, straddling him. He aggressively ground his crotch into Felix’s lap as he started kissing him again. Felix tapped the back of the driver’s seat with his boot to tell him to move. Safety be damned. Chris had his fingers splayed out on Felix’s cheeks, panting into the other man’s mouth.

“When’s the last time you got laid?” Felix asked, tucking his hands in Chris’s back pockets.

“Hyunjin didn’t want to do anything the week before the wedding,” Chris barely moved his mouth away.

“He was definitely cheating on you,” Felix replied.

“Asshole,” Chris huffed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make you forget everything, rich boy,” Felix kissed the front of Chris’s throat.

“Please do,” Chris sighed. They stopped at an apartment building not far from the bar. “You live here?”

“I’m not just a drug dealer out of a crappy club. I have other streams of income,” Felix grinned.

“Do I want to know?” Chris asked.

“It’s better if you don’t,” he replied. Felix lived on one of the top floors and could’ve just as easily qualified for the “rich boy” moniker. It was only in the light of Felix’s apartment that Chris realized he was also wearing designer clothes.

“I’m full of surprises,” Felix winked.

“Looks like,” Chris agreed.

“You want anything or should I skip trying to be a good host?” Felix kicked off his boots.

“You can skip being a good host,” the other man said, starting to untuck Felix’s shirt.

“I figured you’d say that,” Felix let Chris tug at his clothes. Chris was completely stoned now and his coordination was totally gone. Felix giggled as he fumbled with the buttons.

“You think this is funny,” Chris said.

“Hilarious,” the other man laughed.

“Why are you so meeeeean?” Chris asked, almost pulling the buttons off Felix’s shirt. Felix put his hands on top of Chris’s.

“It’s only mean if I make you work for it and then don’t fuck you,” he said, helping Chris unbutton his shirt. “I fully intend on fucking you stupid.”

“Fucking me stupid?” Chris repeated. Felix took off his shirt and started working on Chris’s.

“Unless there’s another way you’d liked to get fucked?” he grinned, making short work of Chris’s $1500 shirt. Chris considered what Felix proposed before falling against his chest.

“Fuck me any way you want,” he sloppily kissed the other man.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Felix dipped his head back and Chris started sucking a hickey on the base of Felix’s throat. His hands dug into the firm flesh of Felix’s ass through his jeans. Felix hooked his fingers into Chris’s belt loops and steered him toward the bedroom. They somehow made it without Chris crashing into anything and taking them both down. Felix tugged Chris to the bed, the other man landing heavily on him.

“Sorry,” Chris grunted.

“I’ll be on top soon enough,” Felix popped up his head and kissed him.

“What are you gonna do?” Chris’s pupils were dark with arousal.

“Maybe making you come once won’t be enough for me,” Felix reached between them to open Chris’s pants.

“You can do that?” Chris gasped.

“Dear god, what kind of pathetic sex life did you have?” Felix asked as he pushed down Chris’s jeans and underwear. Chris’s hard cock slapped against Felix’s thigh.

“I guess I didn’t know it was...a thing,” Chris sighed as his erection was set loose.

“You’ll sleep for a month when I’m done with you,” Felix’s lips curled into a devilish grin. He pulled Chris’s pants off the rest of the way as he rolled them over. Felix was straddling Chris’s thighs still in his jeans.

“Think you can get these off?” he teased. Chris reached up and barely touched the waistband. He tried to sit up on his elbows and fell backwards in a fit of giggles.

“Why are you so meannnnnn?” he whined again.

“I told you I’m really not,” Felix replied, unbuttoning his jeans. Chris looked up at him. Felix made a production of unzipping then opening up his pants. His dick was evident in his underwear. Chris whined again, but for a completely different reason. Felix dismounted and finished dropping his pants when he stood up. There was a perfect outline of his cock in his underwear. Chris squirmed on the bed.

“Getting a little anxious?” Felix asked, walking over to the bedside table. He swung his hips just a little as he moved. The older man bit his lip and nodded. Felix tossed a condom and bottle of lube on the bed. He took off his underwear and crawled back on the bed. Chris engulfed him, covering him with more sloppy kisses. He rutted his hips up against Felix.

“Easy, babe. You don’t want to finish before I’m even inside you,” he laughed. Chris whined louder. Felix kissed him. “Will you behave long enough for me to at least prep you?”

“I guess,” he huffed.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed. Chris did as he was told. Felix quickly opened him up, watching Chris’s face the entire time. He rolled on the condom and generously lubed it. He pushed one of Chris’s knees up onto his chest.

“Ready?” he grinned.

“Yes,” Chris breathed. Then he felt the pop of the head breaching his entrance and a slight burning. His cock wasn’t long, but god was it thick.

“Oh god,” his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Did you just lie there and think of England when you were with your fiancé?” Felix raised an eyebrow.

“I topped. I’ve always wanted to bottom,” Chris replied.

“Then should I be gentle?” Felix asked.

“No, don’t hold back,” he said. Felix smirked.

“Then I won’t,” he pushed in further, stretching Chris more than any of his toys ever had. He moaned louder than intended.

“Sorry,” he blushed.

“No need to apologize. I want to know if you’re enjoying yourself,” Felix said.

“Okay,” Chris replied. Felix leaned down and kissed him as he bottomed out. Chris moaned again.

“Sounds like we’re off to a good start,” Felix pulled back and kissed Chris’s nose. Chris nodded vigorously. Felix started taking long strokes, hitting every sensitive spot inside Chris.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Chris whimpered.

“Do your best. I want to get at least 2 out of you,” Felix told him. Chris whined louder in response. Felix pushed his other leg up to open him up even more. Chris arched his back against the bed and balled his fists in the sheets.

“Felix...” he moaned.

“Did you want something, baby?” Felix asked.

“Harder,” the other man whimpered. Felix grinned and thrust deeper.

“Fuck!” Chris panted. Felix grinned.

“You sound so nice. I wonder what you sound like when you’re coming,” he said. He began working Chris’s prostate. Chris dug his fingers into Felix’s arms.

“I’m gonna, I’m...” Chris could barely get the words out.

“You’re gonna...?” Felix prompted. Seconds later, Chris was contracting around Felix’s cock. Come shot out onto his stomach as he writhed and keened. Felix didn’t stop working him through his orgasm. When Chris sounded like he finished, Felix reached down and grasped his cock.

“Time to come for me again,” he said.

“I dunno...” Chris panted. Felix was already taking long strokes, using his come as lube.

“You can do it. I know you can,” he grinned. He kept thrusting in time with his strokes. Chris whined and squirmed under him. He felt himself start to shake again. Chris bucked his hips into Felix’s hand as he came a second time. Almost nothing came out and it burned slightly, but Chris didn’t care.

“I’m done. That’s all,” he panted.

“My turn,” Felix kissed him and roughly bucked into him. It didn’t take long for him to finish, filling the condom with all he had. He pulled out, tied off the condom, and lied next to Chris.

“Good?” he asked.

“Good? That’s the best sex I’ve ever had,” Chris still hadn’t fully caught his breath.

“Not all my customers get this as a bonus,” Felix teased.

“So I’m special?” Chris rolled his head to look at Felix.

“Yes you are,” he replied.

“Do I owe you extra?” Chris smiled.

“I’m a drug dealer, not an escort,” Felix rolled over on his side.

“You’re awfully open about your illegal income,” Chris looked up at him.

“It pisses off my parents. They already have a perfect heir. I’m the spare,” his tone suddenly had an edge to it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Chris said.

“My sister is Olivia Lee,” Felix huffed.

“Oh...OH,” Chris said.

“Yeah,” Felix rolled his eyes. Probably the only person with a higher social standing than Chris was Olivia Lee. She’d started as a model, then became an actress on a popular drama, and recently married the son of the Kim family descended from ancient Korean royalty. Chris had no idea she had a younger brother or any siblings for that matter.

“So this is a big ‘fuck you’ to your parents and your sister?” Chris asked.

“Mostly my parents. Liv never did anything wrong,” Felix sighed. “She helps pay for this place. I think she feels guilty.”

Chris wasn’t sure what to say.

“You want a drink?” he asked before Chris could say anything. Chris didn’t realize he’d come down from his high until right then.

“Sure,” he agreed. Felix got up and put on a robe from the closet. He handed Chris the other one. It was silk and he found himself running his hands down it.

“Have you never worn a robe before?” Felix laughed as they walked back into the kitchen.

“I don’t really wear robes,” he replied.

“You walk around the house naked?” Felix teased.

“Mostly old sweatpants,” Chris told him.

“Pick your poison,” Felix said as he opened a cabinet and gestured to the bottles.

“I’ll be classy in my silk robe. A vodka martini with no olives,” Chris replied.

“Olives not your thing?” Felix asked as he put the ingredients together.

“They’re nasty,” Chris wrinkled his nose.

“More for me then,” the other man pulled one out of the jar and popped it in his mouth. Chris made another face as Felix laughed. Chris watched Felix as he mixed the drinks. His eyeliner had smudged during their antics. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been wearing eyeliner. It was hot.

“What?” Felix asked as he handed Chris his drink.

“Just admiring your eyeliner,” Chris replied. Felix self consciously rubbed under his eye. Chris reached out and pulled his hand down.

“No, it’s sexy,” Chris said. “I’ve never gotten to mess up a guy’s makeup before.”

“What about a girl’s makeup?” Felix asked.

“They aren’t my type,” Chris pulled the smaller man into him. “You, on the other hand, are very much my type.” Felix blushed a little.

“Mr Confident Dealer blushes with a tiny compliment from his hookup?” Chris teased.

“Maybe you’re my type, too,” he said.

“Because I’m rich?” Chris asked.

“Because you’re hot and if you like my eyeliner then maybe you’d like some other things I have,” he replied.

“I’m listening,” Chris ran his hands down Felix’s back to his ass.

“I have some lacy things that I never get to wear because the guys I’m with don’t...appreciate them,” Felix wrapped his arm around Chris’s shoulders. Chris’s cock twitched.

“Lacy things?” he breathed.

“Mmhmm,” Felix purred.

“Can I see some?” Chris asked.

“If you promise not to rip them when you take them back off me,” he told him.

“Oh no, gorgeous. You’re gonna fix your makeup, put on those pretty things, and fuck me again wearing them,” Chris kissed his neck.

“Really?” Felix let out a shaky breath.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Chris replied.

“No, no I want to. I really, really want to,” Felix nodded.

“Then I’m going to finish this drink in record time so you can get ready,” Chris squeezed his ass.

“I like that idea,” Felix leaned back and grabbed his drink. Chris grabbed his drink over Felix’s shoulder. He finished it in almost one gulp. Felix sipped his, looking at Chris through his long lashes.

“Should I go get ready?” he asked.

“I think you should,” Chris kissed him.

“Give me 5 minutes, then come into the bedroom. I don’t want you to see what I’ll be wearing,” Felix told him.

“If I can wait 5 minutes,” Chris teased.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth it,” Felix kissed his jaw. Chris shivered. “Five minutes.”

“Okay,” Chris replied. Five minutes felt like an hour. Chris almost ran into the bedroom when the time was up. The bathroom door was closed.

“How are you doing?” Chris called.

“Getting there,” Felix replied. Chris took off his robe and sat on the bed. He bounced his leg as he waited. A few minutes later, the bathroom door cracked open.

“You ready?” he asked.

“So ready,” Chris sat up straighter. Felix opened the door completely. To Chris’s untrained eye, it was cream lace with a plunging neckline that looked like a bathing suit. He turned so Chris could see the back. It barely covered anything and tied at his lower back. He’d done a smoky eye and swiped on light pink lip gloss.

“You. Are. So. Hot,” Chris was convinced he got hard immediately.

“Really?” Felix looked down shyly. Chris got up and hugged Felix.

“Fuck yes, baby,” Chris cupped Felix’s ass.

“Drug dealers aren’t supposed to want to be pretty. I’m supposed to be a bad boy. Or something,” he replied.

“I’m sure you aren’t supposed to fuck your customers either,” Chris told him. He kissed Felix ferociously. Felix pulled himself closer into Chris.

“I’m my own boss. I can do whatever I want,” Felix kissed him again. Chris snaked his hand up the back of the smaller man’s neck and curled his fingers in his hair. Felix dug his nails into Chris’s hips.

“You ready, baby?” Chris whispered. Felix nodded. He tipped them back onto the bed. Felix stretched out on top of him, taking Chris’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging.

“I didn’t know where the condoms were,” Chris said.

“I’m okay with not using one if you are,” Felix replied.

“Sure,” Chris reached over his head and grabbed the lube. Felix took it from him and swiped it up and down the shaft. Chris groaned under Felix's touch. He adjusted the bottom of the lingerie and slowly slid back into Chris.

“Feel good?” Felix asked.

“Amazing,” Chris rested his hands on Felix’s hips. He was beautiful. Breathtakingly, awe inspiringly beautiful and Chris was currently speared on his dick. Again. “You can always be pretty with me.”

“Thank you,” he smiled down at him. “I like that idea.”

“So you’re gonna keep me around?” Chris said.

“I am,” Felix kissed him at the same time he started slowly rolling his hips.

“So good...” Chris moaned into Felix’s mouth.

“I’ve barely started,” the other man replied. Chris grunted as Felix kept kissing him. He moved his hips faster and curled his fingers into the sheets. Chris splayed his fingers across Felix’s ass while he moved.

“Baby, you’re so gorgeous,” Chris panted.

“Thank you,” Felix gasped. Chris’s lips were sticky with the gloss. It tasted faintly of strawberries. He moved his hands from Felix’s hips into his hair as Felix leaned down to kiss him again.

“Should I wait?” he whispered.

“No, baby. Do what you want,” Chris replied. Felix smiled against Chris’s lips. He began fucking Chris as hard as he could. Chris let go and stretched out so he could watch Felix between his legs. The other man threw his head back as he got close.

“Fuck,” he gasped. His cock emptied what little it had left into Chris. When he finally finished, he leaned back panting, his blond hair stuck to his face.

“Chris...” he started.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Chris ran his hands down Felix’s sides.

“Okay,” he nodded. He pulled out and rolled onto the bed next to Chris.

“Thank you,” he grinned.

“Least I could do for the best sex of my life,” Chris kissed him.

“And the best sex I’ve ever had,” Felix hugged him close.

“Oh really?” Chris brushed a lock of hair behind Felix’s ear.

“You let me be myself,” he replied.

“So you’re not a badass drug dealer?” Chris teased.

“Oh I am, but I still want to be pretty,” Felix smiled up at him.

“You’re a mystery Felix Lee,” he kissed Felix’s nose.

“Thank you. I think,” he replied. Chris thought for a moment.

“You know what, tell your sister that she can stop paying your rent,” he said.

“What? Why?” Felix sat up a little.

“I want to do it,” Chris sat up in front of him.

“You’ve known me for 4 hours,” Felix insisted.

“I know, but you know things about people sometimes. Unless I’m totally wrong and this was just a hookup for you,” he said.

“Definitely not just a hookup,” Felix agreed.

“I want someone to spoil. I want to buy you pretty things. Will you let me do that?” Chris asked.

“How do you know I won’t take advantage of you?” Felix smirked.

“Because you already had your chance,” Chris grinned.

“What do I tell her? Business took off?” Felix asked.

“Or you got a sugar daddy,” Chris gave him a quick pop on the ass.

“Oooh, I like that. I’ve always wanted to be a sugar baby,” Felix bumped his nose on Chris’s.

“I’d say I should get dumped more often, but...” Chris trailed off.

“You have a lot of lingerie to see and I’m not letting you leave until you’ve seen all of it,” Felix kissed him.

“Correction, until you’ve fucked me in all of it,” the other man told him.

“This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship,” Felix smiled. “But I’m very sticky. Bath or shower?”

“Bath. Easier to grope you,” Chris replied.

“I love how your dirty mind works,” Felix got up and walked to the bathroom. He took his time to let Chris enjoy the view. He was definitely feeling that he hadn’t finished now. Felix gave him an exaggerated wink before he disappeared into the bathroom. Chris heard the water start and quickly grabbed his phone out of his pants. He opened up Hyunjin’s last message.

Chris: That’s fine. Enjoy the rest of your life.

“You ready, baby?” Felix poked his head out of the bathroom.

“Absolutely,” Chris beamed.

2 Years Later

“We’re so happy to have Chris as part of the family. We never thought Felix would settle down,” Chris and Felix overheard Mrs Lee saying.

“Mom, really,” Felix sighed as they came up behind her.

“It’s true,” she said. Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Then Chris saw who she was talking to.

“Hi Hyunjin,” he said.

“Hi Chris...Felix...” he looked like a deer in headlights.

“Come to congratulate us on our wedding?” Felix asked, not so casually showing off his ring.

“Even if it was 6 months ago,” Chris added.

“I was...out of town,” Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. Hyunjin dumping Chris the night before their wedding was probably the worst kept secret in the country. Mrs Lee was thrilled that Chris had married into their family instead. She would talk about it to anyone who she could corner. Including Chris’s ex.

“We’re gonna hit the bar. Have fun,” Felix looped his arm through Chris’s leaving Hyunjin at the Lee matriarch’s mercy.

“Did you see his face?” Felix laughed when they got far enough away.

“I think he died on the spot,” Chris replied, taking 2 glasses of champagne.

“Cheers,” Chris clinked his against his husband’s. Felix looked at him coyly. Chris knew that look. It meant he was wearing something scandalous under his suit.

“You wanna get out of here?” Felix grinned.

“I wanna see what’s under those pants,” Chris pulled him closer.

“Then let’s go home, hubby,” Felix kissed him.

“I love you,” Chris smiled happily.

“I love you, too,” Felix replied.

#minors dni #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids Chanlix #lee felix x bang chan #bang chan x felix

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solvskrift · 1 year ago

Text

open a bottle up (pour a little out in your memory) | 2.7k | trans jim kirk, modern au

whumptober prompt no. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” | delirium | “They don’t care about you.” also on ao3!

>Morning kiddo< Sent 06:48

The text isn’t that unusual, even for the early hour. But Chris’s typing bubble has disappeared and reappeared about fifty times now while Jim’s stared down at his phone in consternation.

He really doesn’t need the extra nerves. Not today.

Jim’s phone finally vibrates again and he hurriedly swipes at it to wake the screen.

Then he stares some more.

>You need a ride to the hospital?< Sent 06:59

Jim’s thumbs hover over the keyboard, his brain zipping through all the possible replies he could send.

No.

Absolutely not.

(yes please god)

Or, possibly, how the everlivingfucK do you know I have to be at the hospital today???

After a vicious debate with himself in which he tosses his phone away and picks it back up more than once, he taps out a >yeah sure< before he can think any better of it.

—-----

Fifteen minutes later, Chris pulls into the driveway.

Jim hauls himself up off the front stoop and stalks toward the car, shoulders hunched and feet full of lead.

“How’d you know I was here?” Jim mumbles as he’s fastening his seatbelt.

“Called around when your mom mentioned you’d disappeared again. Hikaru caved, but don’t be too hard on him - I may have threatened him a little.”

“You what?”

“I’m kidding,” says Chris drily, throwing a hand over the back of Jim’s seat to reverse onto the street. “He knew I was just worried.”

Jim shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, you worry too much.”

Chris just hums, eyes on the road.

Jim watches the houses and trees fly by outside the window. Eventually the silence grows so thick he can’t stand it anymore. He flicks his eyes to Chris.

“You know where you’re taking me?” he asks, but it’s more like an accusation. A challenge.

You know what you’re taking me to do?

“Yes,” Chris says simply. “Phil told me.”

Jim gapes at him, almost forgetting to be self-conscious in the face of his indignation. “He can’t do that! What about all that doctor-patient confidentiality crap? And he’s not even my doctor!”

Chris glances at him, unimpressed. “He’s not your surgeon,” he clarifies. “But he got tagged to assist, and your paperwork isn’t legit.”

Jim’s stomach flops. Well, shit.

“How the fuck did you get Frank to sign off on it?” Chris asks, glancing at him again with scrunched eyebrows.

Jim shrugs and forces his hands to unclench from his thighs. “Just mixed it in with a bunch of papers and told him it was a disciplinary notice from school. Wasn’t that hard.”

Chris huffs a laugh that’s half-disapproving, half-impressed. “Well that was a risk - what did you plan on doing if he actually read all of it?”

“Frank, reading,” Jim scoffs. “Yeah, right.” After a pause, he ventures, “Are you guys gonna report me?”

The corner of Chris’s mouth quirks up, but it’s a little sad. “No, we’re not. You’re sixteen. You did everything else right, all the therapy - ”

How does he know about that? Goddammit, Phil.

“ - and you’ve always had a pretty good idea of what you want,” he finishes. He chews his lip and taps his thumb on the steering wheel a few times. “But I want you to come stay with us after, while you recover.”

Jim grimaces. And wouldn’t that just be awkward as hell.

“Is that supposed to be blackmail?”

Chris gives him a look. “No, it’s an invitation. And a request. Or do you really want to recover from surgery on the Sulus’ couch?”

“They said I could,” Jim mumbles. Chris doesn’t dignify this with a response. After another minute in which Jim glares out of the window and works through vague feelings of mutiny, he gives in. “Fine, just…don’t tell my mom. Please?”

Chris blows out a breath that ruffles the hair at his forehead. “I’ll have to at least let her know you’re staying with us - you know I don’t have a choice about that,” he adds pointedly at the look on Jim’s face, “ - but I’ll leave the rest for you to tell her, if and when you feel like it, alright?”

“Oh okay, like when hell freezes over?”

Chris just raises his eyebrows at him to punctuate his point.

Sighing, Jim gives a slow nod, crosses his arms tightly over his chest, and counts himself lucky.

—----

It’s a short drive between Riverside and the University hospital (plus, of course, Chris has visited here too many times to count and knows exactly where to park) so before Jim knows it he’s standing in the antiseptic-smelling lobby and the excitement hits him for the first time.

He’s spent months - years - waiting for this, and as really fucking nervewracking as it is, it’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him and suddenly it’s not moving fast enough.

Jim sits filling out the last-minute anesthesia paperwork, leg jiggling up and down and brain circling around and around everything that’s about to happen.

His knee stops bouncing abruptly. He looks up at Chris sitting next to him and says almost accusingly, “Wait…you said they asked Phil to help with the surgery.”

Jim’s guts bottom out at the thought, but Chris is already shaking his head.

“They asked, but he recused himself.”

“He did?”

Chris gives him a lopsided smile. “Can’t operate on family.”

That shouldn’t make Jim’s throat feel tight, so he pretends it doesn’t.

“Oh,” is all he says. But maybe something shows on his face because Chris reaches over and squeezes Jim’s shoulder in that way he always does, thumb swiping over the bone and taking some of Jim’s anxiety with it.

—----

The doctor asks Jim if he’d like her to put on some music while he’s getting his IV set up. The first few notes start to filter through the speakers, and his last thought before going under is that Frank would absolutely hate this song.

Jim sleeps just fine.

—----

He comes around nauseous and disoriented.

There’s a tightness around his chest, and he looks down at himself, eyeing the compression band.

Oh. Right.

A slow, sleepy smile spreads over his face.

He realizes after a minute that he’s not alone. Chris is lounging in a chair next to his bed, but he straightens a bit and grins when he sees Jim’s eyes are open.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

Jim rasps something incoherent and Phil enters his vision armed with a paper cup of water. He pops a straw into it and hits the button to raise the head of Jim’s bed so he’s sitting up just a bit. “Drink,” he orders gently, holding out the cup. Jim makes a clumsy grab for it, but Phil just hangs onto it and supports the back of Jim’s head to help him sip. “You’ll be thirsty for a few hours while the anesthetic works its way out of your system.” When Jim releases the straw, he sets the cup down on a side table. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” Jim mumbles. “Sleepy.”

Phil smirks. “I bet.” He smoothes the edge of Jim’s blanket unnecessarily and exchanges a brief kiss with Chris. “I have to get back to my rounds, I’ll check in on you two later, hm?”

“M'kay,” says Jim, eyes already falling closed again.

—----

The surgeon doesn’t see any reason to keep Jim overnight, so when Phil’s shift ends at four they all head out together. (He’s offered a couple days’ worth of painkillers, but he thinks of his mom and decides he’ll do just fine with ibuprofen, thanks.)

Chris brings the car around and Phil helps Jim into the backseat before sliding in next to him. It’s only when they’re a few miles down the highway that Jim thinks to ask groggily, “What about your car?”

“I’ll pick it up later,” Phil explains, an inexplicable fondness in it.

Jim relaxes into the seat and spends the rest of the drive listening to Chris and Phil talk quietly over the low buzz of the radio.

—----

Jim half expects the guest room to be straightened up and scraped clean of any sign he had ever been there.

It’s not.

The bed’s been made, but other than that it’s the same as Jim had left it the last time he stayed two months ago. Old homework scratch paper strewn about on the desk, the pair of shoes he’d kicked off by the closet, his copy of The Great Gatsby lying on the nightstand.

He sits on the edge of the mattress and breathes in the smell of the house.

—----

He tries not to leave his room much.

(Honestly, Jim spends a lot of the time looking at himself sideways in the mirror and trying not to overexert himself from how fucking giddy it makes him.)

It’s summer, though, so Chris doesn’t have to go into the school and this leaves him with plenty of time to bully Jim into eating something or watching a movie or flattening Chris at MarioKart.

Phil tries to act like he’s not hovering, but he is. Every time he comes home he wants to check Jim’s dressings and his temperature and make sure he’s not lifting anything or moving his arms too much.

Jim should be grateful.

Instead he just feels like he’s suffocating.

They haven’t really talked about it - Jim’s surgery, and all that it means. He gets the feeling they’re waiting for him to bring it up, but each time he tries it’s like he can’t unstick his throat. He doesn’t want any of it to change (even though everything is going to, everything has) - Phil and Chris have been there for him, even though there wasn’t ever any good reason for a high school history teacher and his husband to look out for a kid who did nothing but fuck up approximately three times a week.

Jim knows, deep down, that they won’t kick him out, or say anything nasty to him about all of this, but this doesn’t stop him from expecting it anyway.

—----

Three days after his surgery, he wakes up with a fever.

He pops a few more NSAIDs and doesn’t mention it.

—----

“Feeling alright?”

Chris settles on the arm of the couch and Jim blinks up at him. He shivers again and pulls the blanket more tightly around his shoulders.

“Yeah…just cold.”

Chris frowns and puts a light hand to Jim’s forehead, pushing his hair out of the way. His frown deepens, alarm flashing in his eyes. “You’re burning up.”

“I’ll be okay,” Jim protests, eyes glued to the television. “I took some ibuprofen.”

Chris hums. “I think I should take you back to the hospital.”

Jim grimaces; that’s exactly what he doesn’t want to do. Chris has already helped him enough.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jim insists, and he meets Chris’s eyes. “Seriously.”

“Trust me, kid, this isn’t something you fuck around with - I’m at least calling Phil, we’ll see what he thinks,” says Chris, digging around in his pocket for his cell.

Jim sighs and goes back to watching detectives dig up a skeleton that an unfortunate hiker had just so happened to find.

—----

Phil drags him back to the hospital after all but Jim’s so out of it by then that he doesn’t have the brain power to mind that much.

They put him back in a bed and pump him full of drugs and he’s pretty sure the nurse says something about an infection. Jim’s too busy trying not to throw up to pay a whole lot of attention.

He loses stretches of time and it’s dark outside the next time he manages to be semi-aware. By the light of the dim bedside lamp he can just make out the two shapes of Chris and Phil, both asleep sitting up and curled against each other on the tiny padded bench built into the wall under the window.

Jim stares at them. His eyes burn and he thinks maybe the nurses filled him up with more drugs than he remembers. The thoughts in his head are racing each other around, and he abruptly wishes the television in the corner wasn’t turned off. A glance around the room doesn’t reveal the remote.

There’s a beeping to his left, coming faster and faster, and it takes him a minute to realize it must be his heart monitor.

Chris stirs on the bench and blinks his eyes open, rubbing his neck.

Jim’s chest feels tight - of course it does - but he doesn’t think it’s just the compression vest.

“Hey…” Chris whispers. He carefully disentangles himself from his husband and steps toward the bed. “Hey now,” he says again as he takes a seat on the edge, and it sounds so damn soft.

That’s when Jim becomes aware he’s crying. The knowledge sends him spinning even faster and he can’t hold it in no matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” he says, but it comes out on a broken sob.

Chris’s mouth opens in a horrified sort of disbelief. He settles a hand in Jim’s hair, soothing his fingers through it. “For what, kid?”

Jim can’t think straight. “I’m sorry,” he cries again. Helpless. Desperate. “I’m sorry, I’m - that I - I tried not to be, I swear, I really, really tried - ”

“Tried to what?” Chris asks, with nothing but patience. Something shifts behind him and Jim sees that Phil’s woken up too.

Jim screws his eyes shut.

He can barely get it out.

“To not be a boy,” he chokes, and starts sobbing in earnest, chest aching.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Chris says, and he sounds utterly broken.

He leans down and gathers Jim in his arms, mindful to avoid squeezing him too tightly. The hand on his head shifts, moving in circles near his temple. “Shhh,” Chris calms. Whispers into his hair. “It’s alright. You’re alright…”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I - that I couldn’t - ”

Chris just keeps holding him. Telling him things that can’t possibly be true but that Jim wants to believe so, so badly.

That he’s okay.

He doesn’t need to be sorry.

He’s exactly who he’s meant to be.

That he’s not a problem and a useless fuck-up.

Jim chokes on all the words he tries to find and just cries and cries and cries.

A weight settles at the end of the bed, and Phil’s palm rests over his shin. He doesn’t say anything - lets Chris do the talking for the both of them - but the weight is grounding, and it eases something in Jim’s heart.

—----

He’s cleared to leave eighteen hours later, hopped up on antibiotics and exhausted but more than ready to get the hell out of that room.

It’s ten in the morning, and when they get to the house Chris insists on making his specialty waffles for breakfast.

“That always takes you hours,” Jim gripes, “for some godforsaken reason. They’re waffles. Aren’t they supposed to take, like, five minutes?”

“You would think,” Phil deadpans.

“Hey,” says Chris indignantly, fastening the waist tie of his apron while Jim and Phil collapse into stools at the counter. “D’you want a gourmet breakfast or not?”

Jim and Phil look at each other, silently debating.

“That’s it!” Chris pokes a threatening spoon at the air in Phil’s direction. “No blueberries for you.”

“Me? What about him?” Phil gestures at Jim, affronted.

“He gets whatever the hell he wants,” Chris says easily and starts pulling pans out of cupboards. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” He goes to grab the fruit out of the freezer but stops in front of Jim, hesitating. He sets the baking powder down quietly on the counter, and his expression shifts to an odd mix of curiosity and caution.

“What’s your name?”

Oh.

With a small jolt (and a wave of gratitude) it comes to Jim that for the past few days Chris and Phil have totally avoided calling him anything besides the occasional ‘kid.’

He hasn’t told anybody this. Not even his friends.

As sure as he’s been lately about his identity, and what he wants the rest of his life to be, picking a name had felt…weird.

Silly, even.

Like he was playing pretend, or maybe dreaming, and one of these days he was going to have to wake up.

But he looks at Phil and Chris, and thinks of the room upstairs that’s always kept waiting for him, and he feels safe.

Suddenly it doesn’t feel silly anymore.

It feels like who he was meant to be.

“Jim,” he says, and it fits around him so easily, warm and right and his. “My name is Jim.”

#whumptober2023 #no.2 #lyric #delirium #quote #star trek #aos #jim kirk #christopher pike #fic #top surgery #gender identity #found family #solv fic

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sabraeal · 2 years ago

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Merry & Bright, Chapter 11

[Read on AO3]

Written for @claudeng80 for her birthday! We have been friends so long at this point that my oldest kid is almost the same age as HER oldest kid when we first met. So when birthday comes around, Sarah always knows what she wants-- a few times she’s resurrected old fics that got stuck waiting for new chapters, and a couple times, like this one, she’s kept track of which regularly updated fics have missed their update 🤣

If it weren’t for the way the ghost of Doc’s cheek still haunted his lips, tingling so much he’s sure he still feels the heat, Obi’s sure he would have heard Bob’s casual, “Watch your head, son.”

Instead, he spends far too much time worried about keeping his feet underneath him-- Gayle may think the carpet looks nice, but he’s bit it too many times on these stairs to appreciate it-- and his head out of the clouds to notice that what used to be a comfortable distance had turned into the sort of overhang that would scrape open trucks like tuna cans. Only this time it’s his head. “Ow, Jesus. When that’d get so low?”

“Probably around the same time you got so tall.” Bob gives one of those huffy little laughs that would be right at home in his easy chair. “Now mind your noggin and get on down here. Linger there too long and Gayle’s gonna come ask you to buff your own bruise out of the woodwork.”

“Don’t I know it.” He takes the last two steps gingerly, scrubbing at his forehead. Maybe it won’t swell if he gives it enough attention. A long shot, but one he’s willing to take if it keeps Doc from fussing. “Still remember when she made Toddy-- aw, no.”

He’s been tricked. Bamboozled. Two days in the house Gayle’s kept with hospital corners, and he let himself forget. She might have dominion over every inch-- and a husband in the habit of keeping a workspace so neat top brass called it sterile-- but when it came to the trains...

Well, he can just see Bob’s head and shoulders over the maze of plastic tubs. “Don’t tell me you took these all out on your own.”

“Well.” Not a promising start. “There’s not that many.”

Obi hooks his hands over his hips, surveying the state of the den. “This has got to be two dozen at least! And I know from experience none of those tracks are light, never mind those houses or whatever.”

“Only twenty,” Bob blusters, as if four made anything like a dent in this mess. “And not all of them are mine! Some of this is your-- Gayle’s. Garland and knickknacks and the like.”

He knocks on a tote, too heavy to be filled with tinsel. “She told me you only had ten totes.”

A normal man might show some hint of shame. But Bob-- Bob’s a train guy. He just plants himself in the midst of his mess and says, not a bit contrite, “Well, she may not know about a couple of ‘em.”

Obi may not have stayed long enough in this house to learn much, but he did know: a picture may say a thousand words, but silences spoke volumes.

“It’s the O-scale, you see,” Bob presses. “Wasn’t enough track to get it all around the room. And then it’s got to have its own switches, plus that yard sale just down from the church had a nice holiday train-- lights up and everything-- and I couldn’t--”

It’s an effort not to sigh, not to scrub a hand right over his face and scream, but Obi manages. Somehow. “How’d you get all that without her noticing?”

“Oh, well, Jesse’s partner, he’s got this truck.” Bob slaps the top of one of the totes, too proud. “Took me right up to the drive and helped me load the whole lot in. Gayle was down at one of those garden sales the club puts on, and we just hustled the whole thing down.”

It’s impossible to imagine six-foot-we-stopped-measuring-when-we-ran-out-of-door Shane at a tag sale. Not just stomping down to one of those things, but letting Bob boss him right into a full bed of train parts. Not only that, but then driving him right across town where anyone could see them. Obi may have only known him a couple years, more as an accessory than an actual living, breathing person, but really-- he thought the guy had more sense than to go around Gayle.

“Even helped me stow ‘em.” One arm sweeps out under the table. “Had a helluva time getting them out though. Cal--”

“You brought Cal into this?” His shoulder gives one of its twinges, the kind that won’t come out without a nice, hard talking-to, but he makes do with a pinch of his fingers. If Bob thinks he’ll get less time in the doghouse if he just spreads the sentence between all his accomplices, he’s mistaken. “Coast Guard Cal.”

“Now, son, you know he’s in the Navy,” Bob says, all serious, as if he’s the delinquent here. “And we thought he got all of them, but it looks like there’s still two stuck back there, so...”

Obi sighs, rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll get ‘em.”

The plan’s to grumble the whole time doing it; if he’s going to risk one of Gayle’s looks-- the worst ones, the disappointed kind-- then he should at least get the pleasure of telling everyone how he feels about it. But he gets as far as his knees before Bob smiles so bright it makes the overhead light feel like a firefly in full sun. “Now that’s my boy.”

His fingers curl against the grain of his jeans, bracing him against the flood of warmth the overflows his chest.

“If Gayle asks,” he says, hating how his voice trembles, “I’m going to sell you out for free.”

If anything, that only makes his smile brighter. “Wouldn’t expect any less.”

Bob waits until he’s well and under the table before he springs the question.

“So.” His voice is muffled by the layer of balsa or cork or whatever this thing is made out of, but Obi can hear him just fine when he says, “Just how serious is this whole thing with your girl?”

“Wha--?” He rears back, bumping the table so hard his eyes blur just the littlest bit. Nothing he can’t blink away after a moment or two. “What do you mean?”

Bob hums. “Ah. I see.”

“No, no.” He backs out, boxes forgotten, dust shaking off him as he sits back on his heels. “That’s not-- that’s not an answer or anything.”

Both bushy brows take a hike toward his hairline, though Bob makes a real show of not looking at him while it’s happening. “So.” His lips purse as he peruses the back of a gorilla putty package. “It’s not serious, that’s what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t say that!” Obi’s not sure what he’s supposed to be saying, but implying that anything with Doc is somehow temporary isn’t it. “I just meant...”

It’d be great if he did know what he meant. Instead he just sits there, hands dropped between his knees, and flounders.

“I getcha, I getcha,” Bob says, tone implying he doesn’t ‘getcha’ anything at all. “Just thought I’d ask. Gayle was wonderin’ if we should get her a stocking, and I guess I’ll just tell her...”

He lets the pause hang, the way he always did when Obi talked himself into trouble; like if he let him twist a few minutes the mess of a boy the state saddled him with would sort himself out. Would have been nice if the rest of his life worked out as easy as that, too.

“No dice,” he laughs, squirming back under the table. “There’s no way Gayle hasn’t had one waiting for weeks now.”

Bob huffs out a laugh. “You got me. Bought one right after we got back from graduation.”

“What.” The totes are right in front of him, but he can’t make his hands close around them, not when there’s so much noise in his head. “You guys hadn’t even invited us. There’s no way you could have known I would be coming, let alone...”

The silence that settles between them is answer enough.

“...For sure,” Obi adds lamely, gripping at the lid. It scrapes out of place, traveling across the floor like it’s made of sandpaper, grinding the whole way. “I could’ve had plans.”

“Didn’t, though,” Bob says, like it’s simple, and-- and maybe for once it is. Gayle’s not lucky, per se-- she got him on her doorstep in the first place-- but once she’s got her hands around something, it’s hers. By the time she’d wrapped him up in a hug, Christmas was a foregone conclusion.

Bob bends down, dragging the tote out onto the carpet. “So, what should I tell her?”

“Hm?” The next one’s stubborn, really stuck back in its corner. Even a good shimmy doesn’t knock it loose, and Obi’s got to wonder if there’s some nail it’s caught on, or maybe a side crumpled in from Shane’s enthusiasm--

“About your girl,” Bob says, so casual. “Should I let her get her hopes up?”

“Ah!” Surprise gives him that burst of stupid strength he needs to yank that thing out, careening right into his knees. “Yowch.”

“You all right down there?” Bob squints, stooping down to check in. “If you need help--?”

“I’m all right. Just...” Obi catches his breath, heaving that tote past the finish line. “It’s all pretty new. This, uh, thing. I don’t want to jinx it.”

Bob’s mouth curves, too knowing. “I dunno there, son. Don’t think there’s any chance of that.”

Obi shakes his head, braced on hands and knees. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, if I were you.”

Shirayuki stares down at the radio like it might bite.

Go ahead, Gayle told her, spraying down a fluted pan, put on whatever you like.

If it were Obi, he wouldn’t even spare a second; his thumb would scrub across the dial like it knew the precise groove his station was worn into, just a stretch of static until it settles onto a fast beat and wailing guitar, spitting lyrics that would have Gayle scolding him into the next week. But Shirayuki-- her tastes run to the niche, to the sweet voices that don’t carry well across the airwaves, the ones that can only be uncovered in the back of a music store or hidden in the annals of obscure playlists, with names like the angels that sing me straight to purgatory or we’ll all hold hands and make it through together (if it kills us).

(”Would it kill you to listen to something in a Top Forty?” Yuzuri sighs, scrolling through her Spotify to find something to pump over the lab speakers. “I’m not trying to tell you what genre. Just like...any of them.”

“It might,” Obi offers through the bench. “Maybe if she hears a four chord progression it sends her straight back to the cloud she came from.”

“I like popular music.” It’s not a lie; she enjoys whatever anyone else plays, it’s just... “I’ll hear it on the radio anyway. If I’m going to listen to something on my own, I’d prefer it to be something I won’t hear anywhere else!”

Yuzuri’s head thunks against the back of the chair. “You’re the worst kind of hipster.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Excuse me?”

“The kind I can’t actually hate.” Her breath hisses through her teeth. “All right, fuck it, I’m just going to put on some Marina.”)

Wincing, she guides the needle up the band, pausing at every hint of something between the crackles. It’s mostly commercials, half of them for cars and the rest for personal injury lawyers, but every once and a while she catches a snatch of country, or pop, and even once, a bit of R&B, but--

But none of them feel like the right thing to play for your grandmother. Or your boyfriend’s mother. Not that Gayle’s either of those things, but, well-- she’s supposed to pretend she is.

“I’m making this too hard,” she mumbles, under her breath. “I just need to...”

The last few notes of “White Christmas” waft out of the speakers, appropriately festive for the task ahead, and Shirayuki has a whole measure to pat herself on the back before--

“There’s only rule in this kitchen,” Gayle announces, slipping that cake of hers into the oven, “and it’s that there’s no carols allowed in here. Not until the afternoon.”

Shirayuki’s jaw goes slack. “Really? But...?”

A warm hand clasps her shoulder, leaving flour in its wake. “Trust me on this one, honey. If you start that business before Laila comes, we’re gonna be sick of it before those little men bake through. And we’ll still have the decorating left to do.”

It’s hardly the radio’s fault, but Shirayuki frowns at it anyway. If it’s good enough to bring Obi into line, maybe it might do something for whatever magic turned signals into music.

It doesn’t. But it’s a good try. Better than just scrolling the needle up and down the band until Gayle gets tired of the static.

“I’ll listen to anything, you know.” There’s a smile in Gayle’s voice, a patient one, the kind that’s used to sitting across the table from rounded shoulders and a chip balanced on one of them, big enough to fill the room. “Heard all sorts of things over the years. I can promise you won’t be the one to make me change the station.”

“I-I know.” It’s just important that she does like it, not just because she wants to like her, but because it’s something that she enjoys. Because that’s the point of music, to enjoy it, to feel that it adds something to the moment, even if it’s just running down a list, double-sided and with items scrawled in the margin, until it’s done--

(That music was old when her father was born, Opa snorts, wiping a handkerchief across his brow. Don’t they make anything newer?

Oma only shakes her head. Newer, but never better.)

Ah.

It’s like reaching across time when she puts her hand on the dial now, reaching into a different kitchen, a different Shirayuki. A smaller one, more innocent, and--

And maybe more lonely. But it doesn’t feel like it, not when the static breaks into, for it was I who chose to start. I see no need to take me home, I’m old enough to face the dawn.

It’s so easy for her voice to lift, not quite matching that notes Oma had, but close enough, “Just call me angel of the morning, angel! Just touch my cheek before you leave me...”

There’s an uncertain moment where the muscles in Gayle’s face tremble, where she’s not sure if they’ll curve into a smile or fall into a frown, and then--

Then her hands clap together, her laugh ringing out above the rising tide of the chorus.

“Now ain’t that just the thing,” she sighs, hands falling to her hip. “Let’s get to work, angel. We’ve got a real doozy of a morning.”

Shirayuki doesn’t need to be told twice.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #The Wide Florida Bay #merry & bright #modern au #ans #this was supposed to be out for christmas but things unraveled at the seams #so at least we get this now!!#I was going to put Shirayuki through the wringer this chapter but Obi's bit took center stage #but next time. NEXT TIME. they both won't be having fun #well they will but they're gonna have to answer lots of questions they don't want to 🤣

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theinsanecrayonbox · 11 months ago

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Sabretooth War part 3

Well…it’s better than the first two, and you know why I think that is

Lavalle seems to be helming this one. I went back to check Part 2 and yeah

Percy helmed the first two (and they had a diff artist interesting). So I’m wondering if they’re just gonna switch off issues.

Also

Arkady is once again Sir Not Appearing. Then again, almost all of these characters don’t appear in this issue, so idk what to make of this section anymore. But it’s weird right, that the rest of the X-Force cast AND the guest characters are here, but not him.

Anyways, story time. Geeze let’s see if I can remember because I read it last night but my phone refused to let me post about it, and this story does not have particularly great staying power…

We open on the Team X flashbacks as the previews told us. Savage and Camo call Vic out on not being a good leader

Wait he’s got metal bones again?? Would’ve been nice to have SEEN that happen instead of being TOLD about it. Also Savage knows Weapon X? I would’ve thought being Savageland lady her works might not have had one…huh. But wait, this is alternate reality adamantium; does it work the same, have the same poisoning effects, is that why Vic isn’t using his brain because the metals are rotting it away?? Is that where the adamantium coils came from? Did you melt some of alternate Red’s coils for your bones?? Boy what an uninteresting line of questions glad we skipped that story beat /sarcasm

Uh…what happened next…I think we followed Victor to bed?? Quinten’s head is in the jar like Headpool; it’s Orchis tech that apparently took a long time to learn how to use properly (again great job not showing us a good story). Vic takes a nap…Quinten makes a psychic call…to the Pit Gang

ARE YOU KIDDING ME! I was again JOKING about the whale jumping!! WHY is this a thing??? And oh look I was right, it doesn’t save the story.

Wait you guys had reality hopping too? HOW? WHY?? Yeah ok, we got screwed out of a whole miniseries for this gorefest didn’t we. Two boats reality hopping, earning character development, screwing up so many timelines, THAT’S an Exiles storyline, not…this. Argh.

Pit Gang is annoyed that they have to go back to work, but decide to do it anyways in a scene after the next bit, but I’m just summarizing it now because really, I don’t wanna focus on these guys longer than needed, they really are a distraction from the main focus.

Back with the SabreSquad, Savage and Camo are conspiring

Uhg gross. 1) that’s still a terrible retcon for Laura. 2) you actually are a clone because the respawn team made a second you (you) when the original you (Talon) was thought dead in the Vault, plus you have metal bones. 3) oh geeze they’re using alpha/beta/omega language, uh…not my fault (please don’t be my fault) (*I know it’s not really just laugh at the bit*)

Savage rips Laura’s jaw off, because we needed some ***sExY vIoLeNcE**{tm}. But hey, this and ripping into Camo earlier were the only gore fights this time, so it isn’t as bad as the others (so…Percy is the pointless gorehound…that seems to track). Oh and as a lady who suffers from scruff, Savage having some works fine for me; it was weird she was so smooth before, but I agree some with the tags that she needs some more muscle bulk and a bit of height.

Anyways, after torturing Laura it’s more conspiring to overthrow Victor time

1) No Camo you weren’t there when they fought Graydon, we have no idea where you came from. You might’ve been on the ship awaiting decapitation sure, but you didn’t escape and help beat up Graydon with the others. Lavalle wrote that part, how’d he forget?? 2) well we know from April solicits how this subplot will end, thanks marketing spoilers! 3) Pretty Boy really did have the braincell huh, cause this isn’t a good plan

We kinda bookend the issue with another Team X flashback as Vic is dreaming. He wakes up, Quinten head is also dreaming? It plays some sort of a map that Logan doesn’t like? Idk, but Vic is all “haha lemme derail what little plot there is and go do that instead next time” The End

Overall this issue was better than the previous 2, but it’s still not good. It very much feels like we cut out an important storyline just to do this, and yet now we are already bored of this and are cutting it short to switch to something else completely (gee I feel Ike I’ve said that about Percy storylines before). The flashbacks, though nice and will probably have a forced pay off eventually, feel out of place in this story format. There was less over the top gore and more focus on characterization so that’s good. But then we cut away focus for the Pit Gang and that kinda stalled things out; we already have too large of a cast of characters not getting enough focus (some completely forgotten) and this just adds yet another group that we’re not really gonna care about because they aren’t either of the title characters.

This whole thing is just confuzzling. Still gonna keep with it, but man, it’s still not going good.

#kp reads comics #kp rants about comics #sabretooth war #victor creed #sabretooth

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cadaverdolls · 1 year ago

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Already posted a doll today and I want to post another badly. Decided to draw something else since I want to space it out. Want to keep it to one per day. Might try making some of the LIs or NPCs into dolls if my urge to make more is too strong.

I’ve made DOL pcs but I haven’t made an oc that isn’t an orphan. Since I saw a couple of other peoples I now want to make my own! Working out the details on what the character does and how’d they’d fit into the town. It will change as I learn more about the NPCs and LIs.

Murmur the botanist

Height - 5’5 to 5’6 // Age - 23-26 (haven’t settled on an exact number) // Place of work - Botanical Gardens (I image that this place would be right next to the museum)

Murmur has a lot of energy. It’s almost endless! Like a husky. Her voice is loud and she’s going to make sure everyone knows what she thinks. Doesn’t mean she’s going to be impolite, just doesn’t mince her words.

The drawing is a chibi style but I plan on making another drawing later that isn’t in this style so I can get a better feel on her looks. As in, her jaw line. Don’t know if I want her to have a soft face or a jaw that can cut glass. Though the chibi style does fit with the cute character model in the game.

This drawing is just meant to get the vibe on her eye shape, hairstyle, and clothes.

I’ll make her an official tag later once I make the second drawing.

Under the cut is my long as description about her. What she does and how a pc would interact with her.

Minors DNI

Warning - Drugs and implied non-con? (Its mentioned so I added it just incase.)

(I’ll make another post in the future to explore her better. Make it more concise? Explain the interactions one could have with her and what interactions she’d have with NPCs and LIs. I kept her relationships vague since I’m still not fully sure how others would react to her as a person.)

Murmur the lure

People in this town lunge at anybody that looks attractive. Looking for the weak so they can make them into prey. Murmur doesn’t look particularly strong and looks quite naive with the way she dresses. Choosing to stand out with the bright pastel colors. Easy prey? Ha. Laughable notion.

Dart frogs are so cute and small. The golden dart frog is a beautiful thing, ranging in colors of yellow, blue, and orange. Something that everyone knows about dart frogs is that they aren’t something to be messed with. Those bright colors aren’t stupidity, it’s a warning. If a predator ignores those warnings and eats it then it ends up choking on the deadly poison that is within the dart frog.

Murmur has cans similar to pepper spray filled with spores and medicines made from the strange plants that surround this town. Hallucinogenics, anesthesia, drugs that make you see stars. In that large puffer jacket is where they keep it all. It’s basically a bullet proof vest with the amount she has on her.

Murmur knows that the predators learn by observing the others die trying to eat those frogs. So she uses these drugs to make sure that anyone that attacks her forgets her face. Not forgetting the pain of course! That be no fun for Murmur! She’s cruel to those that attack her first and she’s also a sadist. Just loves to see them writhe in pain. Free test subjects for all the new things she makes!

You know how you don’t get charged with assault if you pepper spray a wolf? Anyone the pc can pepper spray without getting assault added on to their criminal status will face much worse if they attack Murmur.

Due to working so much with these drugs she has an immunity to them. Pepper spray doesnt work on her.

🪻Thing involving a pc🪻

You can build love and trust with her. When I say love I mean she’ll see you like a younger sibling. Trust involves her business. If her love is past 50% you’ll get a note passed to you if you’re trapped in the prison or asylum that will ask if you want help getting out. Checking off yes on the note will result in either a guard or worker escorting you outside the building to Murmur’s car. Above 80% and she’ll give you pepper spray for free every week. Bailey isn’t someone she wants to mess with. While she wants to protect you she knows what their capable of. Things would get a lot worse if she involved herself.

The drugs she makes are sometimes legal. She sells both illegal and legal drugs. Supplying to places like the hospital or brothel. Sure, she’s steps on some powerful people’s toes sometimes but compared to the usual stuff you can get in town her stuff is far better. So she gets a pass.

Her garden is open to the public, plants of all kinds! There is a private section where she’s growing all the plants she using for her business. A pc can approach and ask for work, this leads you to picking one of two options - taking care of the garden or going into around town to collect plant samples.

Both have there own dangers but once you get high enough trust with her she give you the opportunity to test out her drugs on your attackers. You can earn about 1000 per can you test. Why is the pay so much? Well here are the potential results you can get when you use the sprays she gives you to test:

50% - the drug results in your attacker being unable to continue their attack // 25% - the drug results in your attacker becoming disoriented or pained, making it easier to escape // 25% - the drug results in your attacker becoming more aggressive or persistent in their efforts, making it incredibly hard to escape

🌸Thing involving NPCs and LIs🌸

Basically, she does know and frequently talks to NPCs involved with the brothels and hospital. It’s business so she’s not really friends with them.

Remy buys from her as well. She knows a lot more about them than she wish she did. Being polite to Remy is hard for her since she hates their guts.

If she could she’d avoid Bailey as much as possible.

Alex and Eden are the only LIs she has talked with. Done some studies on Alex’s farm and has encountered Eden a lot when she goes to the forest to gather samples. Eden in her eyes is sad and pathetic, but in a cute way.

#lots of text #dol oc #Murmur the Lure

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