#i said this was gonna be superficial and its longer than expected but it still kinda is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kurokoros · 4 years

Text

liar liar | bakugou katsuki

Rated: M

Words: 9.4K

Pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Bakugou is hit with a strange quirk. You reap the benefits.

AN: This fic is 50% crack and 50% raunchy smut. I have zero explanations for this. Also big thanks to @lady-bakuhoe for ranting with me once about the fandoms weird level of hatred towards Bakugou, thus inspiring me to write something for him. I’m so sorry it was this.

Warnings: smut, language, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub undertones, rough sex, degradation, spanking, choking, inappropriate use of quirks

***

Of all the things he’s experienced working as a Pro Hero, Bakugou never expected his dick getting too big to ever be a problem, let alone one in his top ten.

Kirishima glances at him out of the corner of his eye as they step into Bakugou’s office, red eyes narrowing in concern as he sees Bakugou’s gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Are you sure you’re okay, bro?” he asks, a little hesitant.

“I’m fine,” Bakugou practically snarls between his teeth. Fuck. The tingling sensation starts in his gut, heat spreading through his limbs, and he nearly swears aloud as the sensation shifts to his dick, his boxer-briefs getting uncomfortably tighter. Shit, he’s probably up to at least another inch by now. Thank god his pants are baggy.

Unfortunately, Kirishima isn’t so easily convinced. Brows furrowing, he looks Bakugou over slowly, searching for any lasting effects from their earlier scuffle with a few low rank villains. “You’ve been acting kind of… strange,” he settles on after an awkward beat of silence, “since you got hit by that quirk. You know, you probably should have gone to a—”

“I said I’m—” Bakugou cuts himself off as that tingle comes back. “I’ll be fine,” he corrects himself. The tingle goes away, and he almost groans in relief as his dick returns to its normal size. “Drop it, Kirishima.”

Kirishima holds his hands up in front of him, placating his huffy friend. “Okay, okay. I get it.” He backs off, still eyeing Bakugou warily as he pulls his phone from his pocket. He glances at the time. “Look, man, I gotta go. I have a date in twenty, and she’s gonna kill me if I’m late again.” His smile is apologetic, but exhausted.

“Whatever.” Bakugou tosses off one of his gauntlets, letting it clatter against the floor noisily. Breathing slowly through his nose, he peels off his mask as well, setting it down on his desk. It’s fine. Everything is fine. He can handle this. It’s just a really fucking annoying quirk that’ll probably go away on it’s own by the end of the day.

Another tingle stirs in his gut, and then his underwear tightens again.

Fuck. He can’t even lie to himself.

Just as casually as before, Kirishima says, “Yeah, and since I figured you shouldn’t be alone, I called you a babysitter,” as he types out a quick text on his phone. If that wasn’t bad enough, Kirishima calls out your name in a sing-song voice.

Bakugou drops his other gauntlet on his foot and whirls around. “You what?” he hisses, only half because of the pain. The sound of your name definitely doesn’t cause his heart to do something stupid like flutter in his chest. And his pants definitely don’t get snug around his crotch as he blatantly lies to himself. “Kirishima, what the fuck? Why would you call her?”

Taken aback by the outburst, Kirishima puts his phone away and shrugs. “I figured she’d make you feel better.”

“I don’t fucking want her here,” Bakugou tells him. Nothing happens in his pants. Like the bullshit quirk affecting his dick can’t decide if that’s a lie or not. Hell, Bakugou isn’t really sure either. Sure, he likes having you around, even if he’d never admit it. He likes seeing your pretty smile as you come flouncing into his office wearing one of those little skirts that make him want to bend you over his desk and—

He squeezes his eyes shut, banishing the thought before it can go any further and his pants grow any tighter from non-quirk related reasons.

On the other hand, you’re quite possibly the last person he ever wants to see him like this. Too bad the universe seems intent on fucking him over today.

“Nice to see you too, Bakugou.”

The sound of your voice hits him like a lightning strike, still sweet despite the sarcastic inflection of your tone. Bolts of electricity shoot up his spine. In his chest, his heart pounds viciously against his ribs, and Bakugou’s shoulders tense as every one of his senses suddenly becomes a tune to you. Even from across the room, the scent of your perfume tickles at his nose—something floral or fruity that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s heavy and enticing and he tries not to shiver as it wraps around him.

He doesn’t dare turn to look at you as you take a step further into his office, determinedly staring at the wall and hoping you’ll leave with Kirishima. Yeah, un-fucking-likely.

When his silence persists, you roll your eyes and turn to Kirishima instead, the pinched expression on your face relaxing into a pleasant smile when you meet the eyes of the more friendly half of the duo. “Thanks for calling, Kiri,” you say, smoothing out your skirt.

A wide grin is the response you get. “Of course,” Kirishima says, stretching out and linking his fingers behind his head. “Figured he’d listen to you over anyone else.” He ignores the glare Bakugou sends his way, his lips twitching in amusement at the stark silence coming from the explosive blond.

You scoff. “Hardly, but I’ll try.” Casting a glance at Bakugou, you’re a little glad he seems intent on ignoring you, because it gives you the perfect opportunity to give him a slow once-over—for injuries, of course. He looks fine to you, a few superficial scrapes and bruises, but nothing severe enough for Kirishima to call you.

The tension in his shoulders is the first thing you notice. Bakugou is awkwardly hunched over himself in a way that isn’t like him at all. Usually, the Pro Hero exudes confidence that would border on cockiness if he didn’t have the skills to back it up, but right now he just looks... uncomfortable. What little of his face you can see is pinched, but not in annoyance; it’s more like pain, you realize, but then his expression melts into one of relief and you’re left baffled once again.

Before you can think too hard about it, your gaze wanders lower and you’re promptly distracted by his bare arms.

Kirishima clears his throat when you stare at Bakugou’s biceps a little too long.

“What happened anyway?” you ask, turning back to Kirishima. Your face feels warm, and by the way he grins you can tell he notices your faint blush. “You didn’t say much on the phone.”

He sobers a little as you bring the conversation back to the other Hero. The humor bleeds from his eyes, his shoulders drooping. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t have much time. We ran into a couple of villains on patrol. One of them caught Bakubro off guard and he got hit with their quirk. Wouldn’t let anyone check him out after.” He shrugs halfheartedly, looking at you apologetically. “You know how he gets.”

Don’t you ever. You’ve never met someone as stubborn as Bakugou before in your life. He can be a real pain in the ass when he wants, and you can’t blame Kirishima for his best friend being a dumbass.

You prop your hands on your hips, eyes narrowing in on Bakugou again. “How long has he been sulking?” you ask just loud enough for Bakugou to hear you.

Ruby eyes pin you with a heavy glower that would probably make anyone else piss themselves. Bakugou’s lip pulls back in a snarl, his teeth bared, and you ignore the pleasant tingle that shoots down your spine. “I’m not fucking sulking!” he snaps at you, making your eyes roll.

“Sure you aren’t.” Before he can start arguing with you, you turn back to Kirishima. “What do we know about this quirk?”

“Nothing. Cops are questioning the guy now, but he’s not talking.” Kirishima gestures to Bakugou with his thumb. “And Ground Zero here keeps saying he’s fine.”

Across the room, Bakugou grumbles to himself under his breath, noticeably displeased with your lack of attention, but like hell he’s going to say anything about it. Jealousy is a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, and for once he can’t even pretend that’s not what it is as his glare shifts to Kirishima. Fuck, he wants you to look at him again. Pay attention to him.

The honesty is surprising to him, but he keeps his mouth shut and definitely doesn’t pout as you and Kirishima continue to chat like he isn’t even there. When it becomes clear that you aren’t going to end the conversation immediately, Bakugou huffs and turns around, glaring as he leans back against his desk, watching the two of you. His gaze skips right over Kirishima and lands on you, and he swallows back a frustrated groan when he finally gets a good look at you.

Fuck, you look good today. Unable to help himself, he’s absolutely shameless as he stares at your legs, your short skirt and high heels making them look even longer than usual. Bakugou grits his teeth as his mind drifts to those legs wrapping around his hips and yanking him closer. For once, he allows the thought to linger, lost in his own head.

“I see,” you murmur as your conversation with Kirishima comes to a close. With your lips pursed in thought, your gaze shifts back to Bakugou, only to find him already staring right back at you, watching you intently. Your pulse jumps under his piercing gaze, and it takes everything in you to break eye contact with him and smile at Kirishima instead. “I’ll take care of it. Have fun on your date, Kiri.”

Kirishima shoots you a megawatt smile and a thumbs up.“Will do! Good luck with this guy!” He pays no attention to Bakugou’s grumbling as he heads out the door, closing it quietly behind him, leaving you and Bakugou alone together in an office far away from other people.

Yeah, this should be fun.

You twist on your heels so that you’re facing Bakugou directly. Trying for a charming smile, you prop your hands on your hips. He glares at you and crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not planning on cooperating. And boy does it give you an excellent view of his muscled forearms, all tanned skin and silver scars from years of hero work. You wet your lips, suddenly thirsty.

“Okay, Ground Zero,” you start, giddily noticing the way he puffs up at your use of his hero name, “are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do we have to do this the hard way?” Your voice lowers at the end, coming out as a husky whisper.

Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow, and he grits his teeth against the pleasant warmth that curls in his chest. “Piss off,” he bites out, a low and dangerous edge to his voice that you easily ignore.

If you hadn’t known him for years, maybe it would be intimidating, but despite his gruff attitude and biting tone, you know he would never lay a hand on you. “Come on, Bakugou,” you try again, taking a step towards him as a small pout forms on your lips. “Please tell me? I just want to help and make you feel better.”

The breathy whine you let out paired with you wanting to make him feel better does absolutely nothing to help the situation going on in his pants.

His gaze slides to the side, avoiding your eyes as he tells you to “Just go home,” because he doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.

But you don’t back down. You can be just as stubborn as him when you want to be, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving just so he can cling to his manly pride, or whatever it is he’s worried about. Clearly, asking nicely isn’t going to work. Honestly, you’d be more surprised if it did. “Hard way it is.”

Bakugou’s eyes widen, and his head snaps towards you just in time for you to launch yourself at him. It’s a bit difficult, between your skirt and heels, but you catch him off guard, and that helps. He tries to twist away at the last second, leaving you to cling to his back, limbs wrapping around him tightly. A surprised grunt escapes his at your sudden weight on him, but he doesn’t even stumble, letting you curl your body around him in a one-sided hug.

“Get off me, loser,” he growls at you, glaring at you over his shoulder. Despite his irritation, Bakugou makes no move to shake you off. In fact, one of his big hands latches onto your leg when you start to slip, allowing you to shift yourself for a better grip. He lets go of you just as quickly, standing stock still in the middle of the room while glaring at everything that isn’t you.

Your fingers dig into his shoulder where you’re grabbing him. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

This time, he does try to shake you off, and you squeal as your grip starts to slip. “I’m fine!” he snaps at you, only to wince a second later.

Ever the opportunist, you don’t think twice before hooking your leg around him and going for his knees. Bakugou swears as he loses his balance, and somehow you manage to knock him to the floor using a grappling move that he taught you. He ends up rolling in time to land on his back, cushioning your fall aa your knees press against the floor on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pin him with a firm look. Long fingers grasp at your upper thighs, his thumbs grazing the hem of your skirt, and he lets you go just as quickly, as if you’ve burned him

Bakugou looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, but, again, he makes no move to shove you away, though he definitely could.

“Oh, yeah, clearly you’re just fine,” you reply, sarcasm laid on thick. Your hands are pressed against his chest for balance as you regain your bearings, and you can feel the angry breath he takes. Bakugou is warm and solid beneath you, hips pressed snug against yours. It feels way too good, but that’s not what you need to be thinking about at this moment. “Now stop acting like a baby and tell me what’s going on.”

Looking up at you, Bakugou sighs when your fierce look doesn’t relent. He mutters something under his breath that’s too low for you to make out clearly, then grimaces. “It’s nothing,” he tells you again, a harsh edge to his voice.

You pin him with a glare. “You got hit by a strange quirk, Bakugou,” you tell him slowly, contempt dripping from every word. “That’s not nothing.” The crack in your voice on the last word is what makes him drop the sour look on his face. You wince, fingers curling tighter around his shirt, like that might keep you grounded. All the fear you felt when Kirishima called you earlier comes surging back through you, and it feels like a blow to the ribs. You stare at his chest as you continue, the words bubbling up and out before you can stop them. “I know you. You’re too damn prideful to go see a doctor and admit something is wron—and that scares me sometimes, you know? One day you could get really hurt.” Slowly, you force your eyes up, meeting his stare with your own tentative one. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong. For me?”

Bakugou’s expression softens nearly an imperceptible amount. His glare smooths out. “Fuck,” he growls under his breath, trying to ignore the violent tug on his heartstrings that comes with that pleading look in your eyes. He’s always been a sucker for you, and you damn well know it too.

But he’s not going to give in this time.

The tingle that goes straight to his crotch proves him very wrong.

You freeze above him, body locking up as something big and hard presses against your inner thigh. “Katsuki,” you say, forcing yourself not to react aside from the widening of your eyes. “Is that your…”

“Yeah,” he replies, jaw clenched. His tone is nothing short of mocking when he tacks on, “You’re sitting on my cock, sweetheart.”

Well, shit. You blink at him owlishly, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of literally anything to say in this situation that isn’t stupid, crass, or a blatant change of subject. It’s surprisingly hard to think with his bulge pressed up against your leg like this, and you blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Are you turned on right now?” you ask incredulously, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I swear to God, Katsuki, I’m trying to be serious here, and you—”

He cuts you off. “I’m not fucking hard.” A pair of big, rough hands latch onto your thighs to keep you from squirming over his lap. “But if you keep moving around like that, I will be.”

“You liar.” A gasp sticks in your throat as he tightens his grip on your legs. By this point, you’re pretty sure you’re blushing, but honestly, you can’t find it in you to care when you are, in fact, basically sitting on his lap. Besides, Bakugou doesn’t look that much better. “If you were that big while soft, I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.”

Well that catches his attention. A smug smile stretches across his face. All teeth. “You spend a lot of time looking at it, angel?” Oh, this time he’s definitely mocking you. The palms of his hands slide up your thighs until his fingertips graze the hem of your skirt where it’s hiked partway up your legs, revealing a few tantalizing inches of your bare skin.

“Oh, no, you aren’t changing the subject,” you snap at him, sitting up a little straighter. “Why the hell is your dick so big, and what the fuck is going on?”

Your questions echo awkwardly through the otherwise silent room. For a tense moment, Bakugou just glares up at you. One of his eyes twitches slightly, his lips turned down in a grimace. You don’t relent, glaring right back at him. Eventually, one of you is going to have to give in, and it’s sure as shit not going to be you this time.

“Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back against the floor. His fingers bite into your thighs when you shift on top of him, leaning a little closer. “It’s that dumbass villain’s quirk,” he sneers, baring his teeth in a snarl as he opens his eyes again. There’s nothing that could possibly prepare you for what he says next. “When I lie my cock gets bigger.”

You almost laugh. Almost. The deathly serious look in his eyes is the only thing that keeps you from bursting into a fit of giggles. And you believe him. You probably wouldn’t if you weren’t currently straddling his lap and sitting on his abnormally large cock. But, yeah. Sure. His dick gets bigger when he lies, and somehow that makes perfect sense.

“What, like some kind of kinky lie detector?” You almost suggest Pinocchio, but you doubt he’d take that well at all.

Predictably, he makes a face at your comparison. “Sure. Whatever.”

Again, neither of you say anything, letting an awkward silence develop between you. While Bakugou just looks all around uncomfortable with the situation, your brow is pinched in thought. Honestly, this quirk seems like some bullshit. You can’t imagine what benefit anyone would get out of making someone’s dick grow when they lie, aside from the exact situation you’re currently in. You almost feel worse for the poor sap stuck with such a bizarre quirk than the Pro Hero currently lying between your legs.

A full body shiver runs through you, and every nerve suddenly becomes highly aware of the man beneath you. Every breath he takes moves his chest beneath your hands, and you can feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath your palm. The tips of his fingers ghost against your thighs, not quite touching you, like he isn’t sure what to do with his hands anymore. And, suddenly, all you can think about are those hands grabbing you by the hips and grinding you down against him.

Unbeknownst to you, similar thoughts are wreaking havoc on Bakugou. From where you’re sitting on top of him, he has a perfect view of your legs and chest, and every time you shift, the movement goes straight to his cock. He almost hisses between his teeth as your thighs tighten around his hips, which only presses the growing bulge in his pants harder against you. His fingers twitch against your legs. It would be so easy for him to roll the two of you over, pin you beneath him, and show you exactly what you do to him. Fuck you senseless until you—

“What are you thinking right now?”

The question is like a hard slap across the face. His eyes snap from the apex of your legs to your face, caught red-handed. There’s no way for him to get out of this one without his dick giving him away or an actual slap across the face. He chooses his traitor dick. “That I want you to get the fuck off me.”

You look entirely unimpressed when his dick moves between your legs, growing larger in seconds. “Liar,” you deadpan. You drum your fingers against his chest, unintentionally matching the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Tell me the truth and maybe I’ll move.” Nevermind that he could definitely throw you across the room one handed if he really wanted to. Frankly, you’re a little surprised he hasn’t already, given your current situation.

Not that you want to move right now. You’re quite comfortable where you are.

Bakugou’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Those ruby eyes drag down your body slowly, shamelessly drinking in the sight of you sitting on top of him. An unexpected lick of run runs along your spine; your breath catches. “You look really fucking sexy right now,” he tells you, and his hands grab your thighs again.

It takes a second for you to register his confession, though you can’t say you’re that surprised. “Huh. Never pegged you as a guy who wanted someone on top.” You can work with that.

His brow furrows. “You know, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”

“I work in quirk registration for the police,” you remind him, shrugging. “This isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve come across.” Honestly, you aren’t even sure it makes the top ten, but you keep that to yourself. You get the feeling he’d take that as some kind of challenge, and you don’t need that kind of stress in your life. “How long has it been like this?”

A shrug. “Shit, I don’t know.” Bakugou shifts beneath you, craning his neck to look at the clock on the wall. “Thirty minutes, maybe. Why?”

“Effects from quirks like this typically only last an hour or two,” you explain. “Maybe twenty-four hours at most, depending on how much training the user has.” Your head cocks to the side as you give him an entirely unsubtle once-over. “It sounds like he didn’t give you and Kirishima much trouble though. I’d put your... little problem at an hour and a half maximum. You should be fine.”

There’s a wicked look in his eyes. “Nothing little about it, babe.” His palms slide up your legs, rucking up your skirt even higher on his way to grab your hips. “Hour left, huh?” A low hum rumbles through his chest. “I can work with that.”

You freeze. “Katsuki, what are you—”

“Look,” he cuts you off with an irritated sigh, “I’ve liked you for a long time, so if you want to fuck right now, that’s fine with me.” Heartbreaking honesty shines in his eyes, only partially masked by a layer of annoyance and boredom, like he doesn’t care either way. The way his fingers dig into your hips tells a different story.

Your eyes widen at his crass confession, your lips parting as you stare down at Bakugou in shock. “Are you…” you hesitate, swallowing down the sudden lump in your throat as your fingers curl against his shirt. “Are you serious?”

Bakugou glares at you, but his faint blush gives him away. “You’re the one sitting on my magic cock, you tell me.”

You sit there for a good minute, just staring at him, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as you try to think of any kind of response. Eventually, you settle on, “That is, by far, the worst declaration of love I’ve ever heard.”

If you thought he was glaring before, it has nothing on the look he levels you with now. “Who fucking said anything about loving you, dumbass?” he snaps, huffing, cheeks turning an even darker shade of pink. “Like hell I do!” He grits his teeth as his dick tingles.

“Yeah, well, your magic cock reveals your deceit,” you mock him. “You’re such an emotionally stunted pain in the ass, Katsuki!”

He opens his mouth—probably to start yelling about something—but you lurch forward and meet his mouth in a fierce kiss before he can say anything. He grunts in surprise and squeeze your hips, but kisses you back eagerly, immediately tilting his chin for a better angle. The hands that were on your hips don’t hesitate to move. One slides up your back to fist in your hair, pulling you closer as the other drops to your ass. A hard grope makes you gasp against his lips, your fingers clenching tighter in the front of his hero suit.

Before things can get too heavy, too fast, you pull back, leaving just an inch of space between your lips. He doesn’t let you go much further. “I like you, too,” you whisper against him. He stiffens as your fingers touch his bare chest where his hero suit doesn’t cover him.

His heart is pounding just as quickly as yours, and he’d never admit it, but he swears your little confession does something funny to his chest. All of it does. The heat of your breath. The gentle weight of your body on top of his. Something about you makes him feel inexplicably soft, and he wants to hate that feeling, but he still can’t lie to himself without his cock growing two sizes. And if he’s going to stuff you full of his cock, he wants it to be all him.

At least at first.

With the hand still tangled in your hair, Bakugou yanks you back down. Your lips mold against his perfectly, the space left between you nonexistent. When he kisses you it’s all teeth and tongue, and your lips part readily beneath his demanding touch. He makes a low sound of approval in the back of his throat, slotting his lips harder against yours. Using the hand cupping the back of your head, he adjusts you above him, tilting your chin until he finds a position he likes.

The dominating way he touches you makes you keen, and your quiet whimper is smothered by his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you. Your legs tremble on either side of his hips as the hand on your ass gropes you again. By now, your skirt is hiked halfway up your waist, and if anyone were to walk in they’d get a perfect view of your ass and the damp spot forming between your thighs.

You arch into his touch at the thought, moaning as his teeth tug at your lip.

By the time you pull away, you both have kiss-swollen lips.

When Bakugou recalls what you called him a moment ago, he chuckles, deep and throaty, and it sends a thrilled shiver up your spine. “I’ll show you a real pain in the ass later, sweetheart,” he promises, squeezing your ass cheek for good measure. The squeeze is followed by a sharp slap, and you lurch forward, a startled squeal slipping out of your mouth.

You glare down at him. Well, you try to. It’s a little hard to pretend to be mad at him when his hand comes up to rub the spot where he smacked you, which only presses your hips closer to his growing bulge. Your tone is dry when you say, “I’m sure you will.” And then, because he’s already propositioned you and has his hand on your ass, you grind yourself against his dick.

“Shit,” he grunts, grabbing your hips. His fingers bite into your skin, twitching like he doesn’t know if he wants to still you or shove you down on his cock. A slow exhale hisses through his teeth. “You tryin’ to be a cock tease?”

The satisfaction that bubbles up in you only feeds the damp heat between your legs. He’s hardly touched you, but you can already feel yourself getting wet just from the thought of him filling you. You brace yourself against him, palms pressed flat against his chest. “You want me to stop?” Purposefully fluttering your eyelashes at him, you slowly work your hand lower, fingers grazing over lean muscle until you stop at his waist, pressing down on his belt.

As your eyes start to follow the path of your hand, Bakugou reaches out and grabs your chin. A warning squeeze makes you mewl expectantly. “Keep talking, baby, and I'll put that mouth to better use.” The pad of his thumb traces your bottom lip. Before he can let go, you tilt your head into his touch, teeth barely grazing his finger as you nip at him. “Such a little brat,” he sneers.

You’re thrown off balance when he sits up. His abdominal muscles flex against your stomach as he crushes you against his chest, and your hands fly to his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Bakugou kisses you again, lips hungry and demanding as they press against yours, and you give him complete control. He tilts your chin, pulls your hair, bites your lips, and every touch makes you feel hazy and warm.

Anticipation churns in your stomach. Your hands slide over his shoulders, looping around his neck. He grunts when your wrist brushes against the side of his neck, and when you card your fingers through his hair and tug, he lets out a sound that goes right to your core.

The hand on your ass gives you another sharp spank. The motion jerks your hips against his, and you grind down against the hard cock rubbing your inner thigh. His fingers knead your ass and the back of your thigh, groping and squeezing and helping your hips along as you rock languidly over his lap. Each roll of your hips has his cock dragging across your damp panties, the head kissing your clit through the layers of your clothes. You shudder, lost in the feeling.

You’re only half aware of him moving, not noticing until the hand that was in your hair slips beneath your shirt to palm your breast. An appreciative squeeze has you arching into him, hips stuttering against his. Bakugou nips at your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper, and when he pulls away you’re sure it’s swollen and flushed from his treatment.

But he doesn’t leave you for long. You’re barely given a moment to breathe before his mouth is on your jaw, your cheek, your chin. Bakugou trails heated, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, only stopping when he finds a spot that has you lurching against him, a pretty little moan falling from your mouth. He laves attention to that spot, right over your racing pulse. Teeth dig into your sensitive neck, and your breath catches in your throat as he begins to suck, intent on leaving a mark. You don’t stop him as he works a hickey just below your jaw, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of sensation.

Before leaving that spot, he drags his tongue across your neck to soothe the bruise he’s left behind.

Desire curls in your chest as a thought comes to mind, and you’re too slow to stop it from spilling out. “I wanna touch you,” you choke out as his mouth trails lower. Bakugou pauses, lips hovering just shy of your throat. The heat of his breath fans your damp skin, sending little pinpricks of electricity all the way to where your hips are grinding against his. You swallow, one hand fisting in the back of his shirt as his thumb brushes against the lacy cup of your bra.

“Already are, baby,” he says, partly muffled by your neck as he ghosts his lips against you. “Grinding against my cock like a little slut. Gonna get yourself off for me just like that?” He’s hiding a smirk. It’s clear what you want by the way your hips roll against his faster, grinding down harder as teasing touches turn desperate, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you begging for his cock before he fucks you.

He ruts against you, alternating between squeezing your breast and ass.

“Bakugou!” You try to sound reprimanding, but his name comes out as a breathy whine. There’s no way for you to get your hand on him with the way he has you pressed flush against his chest. And he’s definitely not going to make things easy for you.

As if he knows what you’re thinking, the man beneath you laughs. “You want it that bad, you better take it yourself, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you try to put some space between your hips, but his grip is firm. Bakugou swats your ass when you try to move, and you whimper as it forces your hips harder against his. You try a second time, and he pinches your nipple through the flimsy cup of your bra. Your head falls back with a moan, giving him greater access to your throat, and he smirks as he bites down on your soft skin.

Fine. You can play this game, too.

With a sharp grind of your hips, you rub your clit against him just right. Your back arches. Your thighs tense around his hips. “Ground Zero,” comes out as a needy whine against his ear. You feel him tense beneath you, his grip faltering for just a second. That’s all you need.

The momentary distraction is all you need to slide back on his thighs, putting just enough space between your hips to grab his belt and grind the heel of your hand against the massive bulge straining against his pants. Even through his pants you can feel how thick and long he is, and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you senseless.

He grunts as you palm him, squeezing gently as you trace the outline of his cock. His mouth leaves your neck with a wet pop. “Shit,” Bakugou murmurs. Soft strands of his spiky hair tickle the side of your neck as he rests his head against you, reveling in the feel of your light touches.

Your fingers brush against the back of his neck, your palm grinding against him when his hips rock forward. Strong muscles flex beneath your thighs. Bakugou’s throat bobs with a harsh swallow.

Unable to stop yourself, you duck your head, pressing your lips against the side of his neck. It’s hard to find an angle with the bracers around his neck, and your attention turns to the front of his throat instead. Bakugou groans as you kiss him, lovebites and lipstick stains left in the wake of your mouth. He lets you kiss and nip your way down to his collarbone.

Thank god for the low cut of his shirt, you think, biting down on his chest hard enough to leave a mark. At the same time, your fingers grasp at his belt, nearly snapping the buckle in your hurry to get your hand on him. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware of him saying something—calling you needy or naughty, you aren’t sure which—but you don’t care as you finally get your hand in his pants and grab his dick.

“You’re so big,” you murmur, eyes widening. The tips of your fingers don’t touch as you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him languidly from base to tip. You can’t get a good look at him from your position, but you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft, and you bite your lip at the sheer girth of him. “Is this from the quirk?” you ask him, swirling your thumb over the tip before dragging your hand back down, giving him a firm squeeze. You lean back a little, wanting to look at him, but Bakugou lurches forward to get his mouth on you again.

He groans against your ear, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of your jaw. “All me, babe,” he tells you, smug. For once, you really can’t blame him for being cocky. “Fuck, that feels good.”

The way your soft hand slides against his shaft wrecks havoc on his brain, and Bakugou presses another heated kiss to your neck to smother a loud moan. He’s already painfully sensitive from having you hump his lap, and your tentative touch only makes him harder. And that damn quirk didn’t help at all. After over a half hour of that bullshit cock tease, he’s just aching to bury himself in your dripping pussy.

Your thumb traces the thick vein on the side of his cock, pressing against it gently before twisting your hand. The sudden change in angle and the way you squeeze him have a low sound tearing from his chest, and then your hand is being yanked out of his pants. Bakugou’s fingers clench around your wrist in a vice grip, and you wince at the mild sting.

“Get up,” he demands, nearly growling. His fingers are digging into your ass hard enough to leave faint bruises, but you don’t care. When you hesitate, he releases you only to slap the back of your thigh. “Now.”

You pussy clenches at the pain that quickly dissolves into pleasure. “What’s wrong, Katsuki,” you can’t help but tease, hoping to get a reaction out of him, “afraid you’ll cum too fast?”

He doesn’t spank you again, though his palm does press against your reddening ass cheek in a way that speaks of a warning. “Don’t make me tell you again, baby.”

It takes another second before you shift off his lap, your legs quivering as you stand. You almost consider ignoring the command. Almost. But it doesn’t take much for you to decide you’d rather see what he has planned for you.

Your thighs rub together as Bakugou rises from the floor in one fluid motion, years of training making him silent, almost catlike. He reaches for you as soon as he’s standing, towering over you, an imposing figure. The scattering of small marks on his throat makes you grin, but the smile is wiped from your face as he grabs your chin roughly between his fingers and forces you to meet his eyes.

Ruby red and blown wide with lust, the look in his sharp gaze makes your breathing hitch. A wet crackling sound leaves your mouth as your lips part for him. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he growls.

You stumble a little as he starts walking you backwards, not touching you aside from the firm grip he has on your jaw. You go willingly, eyes on his. Excitement has your stomach flipping, a nervous flutter in your belly, and you gasp when your back hits the side of his desk, the cold wood pressing against your skin where he’s tugged at the hem of your shirt.

Bakugou’s thumb delves past your lips, dipping into your wet mouth, and your lips wrap around him greedily. Sucking gently, your teeth press against his skin possessively, tongue laving attention to his thick digit. With his free hand, Bakugou grabs the front of your plain blouse and yanks it open, careful not to rip any of the buttons. You let your shirt fall to the floor, wriggling a little as it sticks around your elbows. He reaches up to palm your breast, humming in approval once he sees your pretty bra.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he tells you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and smearing your spit across your lips, watching them glisten. “I want to see your mouth on my cock.”

You do as you’re told, practically shaking with anticipation as you drop to your knees for him. Now that you’ve gotten a feel for his cock, you’re desperate to have him inside you. Your mouth. Your pussy. It doesn’t matter which. Any thoughts of playing coy or being a brat disappear into the back of your mind as he pins you with a harsh stare. Bakugou pets your hair, threading the soft strands through his fingers to hold you still.

You bite your lip as his free hand drops to his waist, Bakugou shoving his pants and boxers down just low enough for his cock to spring free. The size makes you swallow. He’s bigger than you thought. Thicker. And you remember how your hand couldn’t wrap all the way around him. Your thighs clench, rubbing together as a dull ache builds between your legs.

He doesn’t waste his time. Shifting forward, he palms himself, lazily stroking his cock with his own fingers, just out of your reach. When you try to lean forward, he pulls your hair, forcing you back again. “Such a little slut,” he murmurs, allowing the head of his cock to press against your wet lips, his hips slowly rocking back and forth. Your tongue flicks out to taste him, and he groans. “There you go,” he says, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face before he starts pushing his cock into your mouth.

You immediately close your lips around him, bobbing your head forward as much as his tight grip will let you. Bakugou feeds you his cock, sliding into your wet mouth slowly as you start to suck, letting you adjust to just how fucking thick he really is. His girth has your jaw stretched wide, forcing you to breathe slowly through your nose. You glance up at him.

“That’s it, angel,” he groans as you bob your head again, “suck my cock.” His hips rock forward in a shallow thrust; his eyes lock on your lips, stretched obscenely around his length. Wet trails of saliva stick to his cock as you pull back to swirl your tongue around the head.

Whimpering around him, you suck harder, swallowing around him, anything that might pull another filthy moan from his mouth. Your hands grab his thighs for balance, your fingers digging into his legs as you try to pull him closer.

You’re rewarded with a low moan rumbling from his chest. Bakugou’s eyes slip shut for a second, his head tilting back in raw pleasure. “Figures you'd be a perfect little cock sucker,” he says under his breath, almost too low for you to hear him. “I bet you want me to fuck your face, huh, baby?”

You settle for moaning instead of nodding, watching him through your eyelashes as he pants above you.

“Fuck.” A long, hissing exhale escapes through his teeth, and his hand tightens in your hair just a little bit as he watches you work his cock. You look so fucking pretty with your mouth wrapped around him, your lips slick with saliva as you take him deeper into your mouth. There are tears beading at the corners of your eyes. “Fuck,” he says again, “you feel so good.” He grunts. “How long have you been thinkin’ about sucking my cock, babe?”

You flush under his gaze, unable to answer with your mouth full of his dick, but the answer must be clear as day on your face. You don’t know what it is he’s thinking about, but you swear his cock gets bigger in your mouth, that strange quirk making him thicker so that you’re nearly choking on him.

Bakugou holds your head still as he starts to rock his hips; he moves slowly at first, his thrusts shallow and even, but he quickly picks up speed when you whine around his cock. It isn’t long before he’s fucking your mouth, thrusts as rough as you’d expect from someone like him. His cockhead brushes against the back of your throat, his hips stuttering as he holds you like that, your lips pressed nearly against the base of his cock.

Somehow, you manage to keep your eyes on him. You force your throat to relax and swallow around him. His eyes almost roll back at the sensation, but he keeps his ruby gaze locked on you, watching how well you take him. He can only imagine how good you’re going to take his cock, too. He speeds up again, groaning as the pressure in his gut starts to build.

His cock pulls from your mouth with a wet sound, and you cough, sucking in greedy mouthfuls of air. Bakugou drags you off the floor, and your startled gasp is cut off by his hand wrapping around your throat. He doesn’t squeeze, unfortunately, just holds his palm there. The next thing you know, you’re being shoved against the nearest wall, your cheek pressed to the chilly surface as Bakugou all but rips off your skirt, leaving you in just your underwear and shoes.

The fabric pools on the floor in a crumpled heap, and Bakugou kicks it aside in order to spread your legs from behind. You brace your hands against the wall, ass out, and he’s on you in a second.

Teasing is thrown out the window as he finally—finally—touches you. One of his hands reaches around you to grope your chest, palming your breast roughly before shoving the cup of your bra aside to tweak and pinch your nipple. You’re a panting, whining mess by the time he gets his hand between your legs. Two thick fingers drag over the crotch of your panties, and he actually laughs when he feels how wet you are. “Shit, you get that horny just from sucking my cock?”

Blearily, you nod, pressing your pussy closer to his hand. Bakugou shoves your panties to the side, fingers skimming through your wetness before rolling over your clit. You nearly sob at how good it feels to have him touch you. It’s like his hands were meant to please you, big and rough, his calloused fingers providing the perfect amount of friction. Each precise stroke of his fingers feeds the knot in your belly, keeping you right on the edge of coming undone.

“You’re gonna feel so fucking good on my cock,” he tells you removing his fingers from your clit to squeeze your ass. His cock quickly replaces his hand between your thighs, his thick length rubbing against your slick pussy, the head bumping against your clit with every stroke. Bakugou lets go of your breast; his hand slaps against the wall beside your head for balance. “Pretty cunt squeezing around me. That what you want?”

“Please. Oh, please,” you mumble. Anything to get him inside you. It almost hurts how turned on you are right now. From the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the hem of his shirt, about to pull it off. “Don’t!”

Bakugou goes absolutely still at your sharp cry. The only movement is his eyes snapping up to meet yours, flooded with concern as he checks to see if he’s hurting you.

But you whimper, trying to shove yourself back on his cock. “Don’t take it off,” you clarify breathlessly, legs quivering with the effort of holding yourself up.

The concern bleeds from his eyes, and they’re taken over by something dark and hungry instead as he realizes what you mean. He thrusts his cock between your thighs, your slick covering his cock as it drips from you. Your eyes flutter as he pressed against your clit again. “Don’t take what off?” He wants to hear you say it.

And you’re so painfully aroused that the words come spilling out of your mouth before you can stop him. “Your costume,” you choke out around a loud moan. “I want you to fuck me while you’re wearing your costume.” That’s one dirty little fantasy you’ve had for a while, maybe ever since you met him. The thought of him fucking you while he’s still in costume is almost too much, but god do you want it badly.

“That so?” he drawls. His hand drops from his shirt back to your ass cheek, groping you before spreading you from behind. He takes a step back, ignoring your whine, and whistles when he gets a good look at your dripping slit. Bakugou tugs your hips back, forcing your back to arch for him. “What a naughty little slut. You got a thing for heroes, baby?”

Just you, you think, but all you can do is moan his name. “Bakugou.”

You cry out as he slaps your ass. “No, no, no,” he repremends. “That's not what you call me.”

“Katsuki, please,” you manage to whine around a harsh swallow.

He spanks you again. “Come on, angel, you know what to say.” It takes a second for it to click, but when it does you blush. “Fuck, look how wet you are.” He chuckles as he looks at your glistening thighs. Another love tap lands on your reddening ass. “You like it when I spank you?”

“Yes,” you mewl.

He spreads your legs open wider. “Yes, what?”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, cheek pressed against the wall in front of you. “Yes, Ground Zero.” Your tongue runs across your bottom lip. “Sir,” you tack on.

“Good girl.”

There’s no warning as he adjusts himself behind you, cock slamming into you hard enough to steal your breath. There’s no resistance, you're so wet. You pussy clenches around him, your walls sucking him in deeper. That’s all it takes for an orgasm to rip through you, the knot in your belly snapping so fast that all you can do is let out a silent scream as you slump forward against the wall.

Bakugou is equal parts shocked and amused as you try to milk his cock, and he grits his teeth as his dick twitches inside of you, almost pulling him over with you. “Fuck,” he laughs. “You cum just from me filling you up?” You whimper and nod. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight.”

He presses you closer to the wall, and his arm slips beneath your knee, lifting your leg and holding you open. Your thigh burns from the stretch. His cock drags along your walls slowly before, only the tip left inside before he thrusts back into you, reaching deeper.

He picks up a steady pace, slamming into you over and over. You’re already so sensitive from your first orgasm, and little gasps and whines keep falling from your mouth with every brutal thrust as Bakugou finds your sweet spot, hitting it perfectly as he pounds you. He’s thick and hard inside you, even bigger than he was in your mouth, and your eyes widen when you realize he’s doing it on purpose. “How big can you get?” you gasp, moaning as his cock expands inside you, filling you up completely.

“As big as you fucking want me,” he snarls back, fucking you faster, hiking your leg up higher.

All you can do is hold on and take it.

You don’t know how much time passes, the only sounds are your heavy breathing and his harsh panting against your ear. Sweat drips down your back where he’s sliding over you, and his fingers bite into your thigh as he almost loses his grip. “You know whose office is on the other side of this wall?” he asks suddenly. “Answer me, baby!” A particularly harsh thrust follows the demand.

“No, Sir,” you pant.

“Fucking Deku.” He grits his teeth as that now familiar tingle goes right to his cock, but you don’t seem to notice the lie. “You think he’s in there right now? His desk is right on the other side.” You pussy squeezes around him, and Bakugou moans against the side of your neck. “I bet he can hear you in here panting like a whore as I fuck your slutty little cunt.”

Your back arches into him, the revelation reigniting the fire he lit inside you. That knot comes back, just as tight as before, and you tremble as you realize he’s going to make you cum again. “Ground Zero,” you whine.

He lets go of your thigh, but keeps your knee hooked around his elbow. His hand snakes around your hips to rub your clit, and you jerk against him. “He’s got some new intern, too. Some little high school brat.” A high-pitched, needy sound falls from your mouth. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name.” He rolls your clit harder between his fingers, and the heat rolling from him is so sweltering that it’s hard to breathe. “Shit, you’re gonna be filling this kid’s fantasies for weeks. He’s probably gettin’ off to you right now.” His cock gets bigger inside you; his hips grind against you harder. “But your pussy’s mine, angel. Got that?”

You nod, delirious.

And, fuck, he just doesn’t stop talking. “You gonna cum?” he asks, fingers moving faster over your clit. “Gonna cum from thinking about Deku and his intern listening to me fuck you?” You shudder and gasp, shoving yourself back on his cock in a weak attempt to match his brutal pace. “That’s it, baby, cum on my fat cock. Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good. I wanna hear you scream so fucking loud that everyone in this goddamn building knows my name.”

Bakugou pinches your clit. Your eyes slam shut, body locking up as he throws you into another powerful climax. “Katsuki!” you shriek, his name ripping from your throat in a raw scream.

This time, he doesn’t hold himself back. A series of harsh thrusts drag out your orgasm until you’re sobbing, a few tears slipping out and rolling down your cheeks. His cock twitches, swelling, and he shoves inside of you as deep as he can go before cumming inside you, his thick seed filling you up and dripping down your thigh.

He doesn’t pull out, leaning his head against your shoulder as you both try and catch your breath. Bliss washes over you as he kisses your neck, mumbling a string of garbled praises against your ear.

You blush when something he said hits you full force, finally able to process it now that he’s not fucking you senseless. “Midoriya,” you gasp, trying to crane your head around to look at him.

Bakugou presses more of his weight against your back, slowly lowering your leg back to the floor. His hands grasp your hips when your legs threaten to collapse beneath you. “Bastards office is on the other wall,” he says, calming you down. “‘Sides, it’s his day off.”

Relief floods through you. “You have absolutely no filter, do you?”

He shrugs, kissing across your cheek. “I don’t see you complainin’.”

You laugh a little breathlessly. “You made me cum twice,” you remind him. “I don’t give a shit what you were saying.” You shift in his embrace, wincing as his cock moves inside you. Fuck, you’re sensitive.

He stills you. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks. When he sees your obviously confused look, he gives you a shallow thrust, his cock still hard inside you. “Oh, angel, we’ve still got thirty minutes, right? We’re just getting started.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnhabookclub #mha #bnha #bnha smut

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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years

Text

La Arrogancia De La Niña

Read Posts 1-3 titled Betty, My Betty to catch up to the character analysis that I will be talking about here.

A little background: After Armando dropped Betty off he went to Marcela's apartment. He seemed indecisive if he wanted to stay or leave as he walked towards the dining table and then towards the elevator, spun and went back to the dining room while we heard Betty's monologue.

At first glance I did think Armando pulled away from Marcela because he had just been kissing with Betty. Though we know that he has been able to kiss Marcela even when he's snuck off with his models, so it's not guilt. When he goes to brush his teeth he says that he can't be kissing Marcela after kissing Betty, that if she found out she'd kill him.

From the very few interviews that I have seen about the characters I remember Jorge Enrique saying that Armando is obsessed with perfection, especially in women and because of that he is very impatient with Betty because she doesn't fit that vision of his.

Armando isn't physically attracted to Betty, that's a fact and the reason why he lives in such denial but he still acts with deliberation.

Just because he is in denial about his feelings it doesn't excuse the things he does knowing exactly what he feels about them.

Armando earases Betty's trace from him in this scene and after that he no longer feels guilty, he stares at Marcela and admires her beauty. He kisses her telling her how he needed to see her, how badly he needed her to help him forget the horrors of the day.

In this scene what caught my attention was that he makes eye contact with her like nothing. With Betty at the office he struggled to make eye contact with her or hold it. The only time he managed to was when the topic was only about work but when the conversation was over he couldn't look at her or make eye contact for longer than a second with her.

With Marcela he's able to hold eye contact, conversation, touch her, kiss her, tell her how he needs her. This parallels allows us to understand the reason being that one relationship is only based on physicality while the other one is based on person/human connection.

When their scene for that night comes to a closing Armando and Marcela are kissing and he has his eyes open and the exact same expression he had with Betty. He closes his eyes for a second and they pull away and hug. He looks confused and then rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

Here he is now feeling the effects of the kiss with Betty. He kissed her sober. He felt something again and unlike before he can't excuse it for being drunk so when he now kisses Marcela and he realizes that he feels off or not like before, he chucks it for guilt and dismisses the topic from his mind.

Now that we've got this background let's proceed to the scene at hand.

Mario and Armando go to have a briefing about the previous night.

When you're writing dialogue(if it comes naturally to you) you don't pick and choose every word used and think about the impact it holds. That is why it's so important to know your characters and understand them before you start writing. It's important to understand their role, who they are, everything inside and out, and then writing comes naturally. Once you've learned to distinguish their voice, their tone in writing your conscious becomes invisible and everything comes from your subconscious. In the first draft you go unfiltered. You pour out your tears, your blood, you whole heart into it, and when you rewrite it to polish it you go into detail. You remove the bits that don't really make an impact and you find the words that really push your point across.

Writing is truthfully, in my humble opinion, the art that truthfully transfers you and evokes emotion like no other. I paint, I write songs, I draw and I do all these other artistical things but writing, the gift that I rejected for years, is the most comforting and the most beautiful of all arts. When done right you don't only make people travel among space and dimensions but you cause a huge impact in their intelectual person. A pen and paper are the most dangerous weapons.

You might be wondering why I'm even talking about this on this post but it's important to understand and credit the true mastermind behind this story as he wrote it by himself, be it at a rush with no time, with all the time in the world, money or no money, he wrote something that impacted an entire world and inspired change.

A ruthless man falls in love with a beautiful woman.

You can say "but Betty isn't beautiful." and that's where the message is lost. Betty is beautiful. Beauty, people often think is based on the physical appearance of something or someone but Beauty is the essences of something or someone. We don't look at the sunset and think it's only beautiful because of it' colors. We look at it and think it's beautiful because of its power, of it's essences, and it's presens. We are in awe of its magnificence and that makes it beautiful.

So Betty is beautiful.

Betty is deserving of love, kindness, respect, faithfulness, loyalty, and so so much more because she is utterly beautiful.

Fernando's intention was to teach us that. That beauty is not skin deep. Beauty is the heart of someone and their impact in the people around them.

Armando isn't beautiful at the start of this. He is an ugly human being but with qualities that make him passible. To find his beauty you have to really dig into him.

The true monster here is Mario, but Armando is guilty for simply allowing Mario to continue this way.

Mario asks him if they kissed and Armando tells him that he kissed her twice.

Let's start.

"Well you know what I ended up not liking? Come over here that I'm gonna tell you more" Armando stands up and walks to the double doors and stands under the door frame of his office and the meeting room. Mario follows him.

"Imagine that this woman last night got hooked on that I couldn't be crazy about her. That I couldn't be obsessed for her. That she doesn't have enough qualities for me to fall in love with her."

What does Armando's body language tell us? Like last night, it truly boggles or frustrates him that Betty says things. It's almost like if he found it an insult for Betty to insinuate these things. Here his hand is moving vastly in the air making points of what Betty told him, his is speaking fast and his tone is frustrating all of this indicates he is offended or angry that Betty would think that of him.

in short translation: How could Betty think that I wouldn't be attracted to her? Crazy about her? Why, am I just a stupid superficial man? Who only cares about women's bodies and not who they are as a person? That she doesn't have any qualities that would drive me crazy and be obsessed with her?

Obviously he isn't going to tell this to Mario or really himself either.

"Well she isn't naive. She's seen herself in a mirror." Mario jokes.

"Of course but I had to name a bunch of qualities to convince her."

"Qualities?" he whispers.

"Yes." he whispers aggressively.

"Tell me, that imagination and creativity of yours; What qualities did you have to tell her?"

Armando shrugs and starts to mumble incoherently and Mario interrupts him.

"And did they[she] believe you?"

"Well I hope so."

"Did you kiss her?"

"I said yes. I kissed her twice." He whispers annoyed.

"What did she say? Are you both dating? Did she accept that she's crazy for you?" Mario sounds too excited with the last questions which gives the impression that he likes to hear all of this which is just gross.

Armando gives us a micro expression of confusion, it seems like his hands are inside his pockets and he shrugs and shakes his head.

"Well man that's what's weird about it. I did tell her I was obsessed with her, that I'm dying for her, but she's not of me." Mario gasps, shocked. "That she thinks I'm a very interesting man, that she admires me a lot, that I've been real special with her for a lifetime but that no, that's the only thing she finds attractive of me." Armando's quick pace but without stutters or word fillers allows us to know that he is confident in what he is saying(he's thought about this a lot) but nervous about what it means.

Mario gasps again and tells him "Do me the favor. The arrogance of that girl. You almost don't convince her, you have to kiss her two times and after that she tells you, Hey, I admire you." Between this cluster of words we see Armando thinking hard. He really is bothered or worried about Betty not really showing an interest in him.

Our egos are a huge part of who we are. We want to be liked by people and accepted, it's part of our genetic makeup. We are sociable beings. Now, if I told my boss that I admired them and that they always treated be respectfully and respected my job I think my boss would feel pretty happy about that. It would boost his ego.

Armando however isn't acting like that. If he was truly unbothered by Betty and her feelings towards him(it isn't because of the plan) than he'd just chuck it in a bin and say he'll work on it. He's literally spent two days with Betty since the kiss, he wants Betty to be fawning over him now?

His ego is hurt, his man ego. He wants Betty to like him, to like him as a man and not her boss and it isn't because of the plan because if it were than the man would understand that steady wins the race but he's an impatient man who wants Betty on the same page he's in.

"Yeah, yeah, see I think she still has that guy Nicolas stuck in her head." (ARMANDO IT'S BEEN THREE DAYS, THREE DAYS! WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?)

"No." Mario whispers.

"Yeah and I don't like it at all. Look at what she left on my desk this morning."

Now they turn their backs to the office and face the meeting room. While Mario holds the chocolate bar in his hand he tells a worried Armando:

"Aw but how sweet. Now, see this is a good sign."

"Really? Is it? You think so?" he says hopeful.

"Aw, man, please."

"Really?It is?" he looks at the chocolate bar in Mario's hand and then stares off, concentrated, in what Mario is saying.

"Look this means she accepts the relationship?"

"Really?" he whispers hopeful.

"Now you have to consecrate-" Armando shifts, now he rest his hand on Mario's shoulder and starts to bite his thumb nail as he listens closely to Mario, the love guru. "You have to eradicate from her head and heart that guy Nicolas Mora, want some?" he asks after taking a piece of chocolate out.

"Yeah, keep going." he takes a piece out too. "keep going that I like what you're saying."

Here the opportunity he's been waiting for presents itself. Betty accepting the relationship gives room for him to remove Nicolas from her love life, therefore leaves him in the center of it.

"These ugly[women] like Betty are very romantic." Armando nods. "So then you have to create a routine of a boyfriend." Armando nods, agreeing. "You have to feed the illusion, you have to maintain the relationship alive." once again Armando nods in agreement and with his hands gestures that he wants to hear more. "because starting from this point on my dear sir you are now the boyfriend of Beatriz Pinzon Solano." Armando's eyes are wide, lips pursed together(could be because he has chocolate in his mouth) and hands in pickets, he turns to his left, away from Mario for a brief second and has a face of "Are you for real?"

"But but how will-what kind of gifts, things do you mean?"

"Look brother, romance is like a bonfire. If you don't feed it the passion extinguishes. It's that simple. We shouldn't call this a win. I think Betty isn't sure about how serious your are[about your feelings]. You have to work on her more, make her fall in love and you have to show her that this is something very serious, you understand me?"

"But what kind of job that I have to do?"

That's the end of that scene.

Later when Mario and him are talking how to go about with the gifts and romantic details we get confirmation(post Thank You...) that when it comes to the physical of it, Armando pictures AA instead of Betty.

From here once again we do get a clear understanding that Armando is confused and when he's not confused(very different emotions) he is in denial of it. He is worried about the company. Mario only ever brings it up when he sees that emotions aren't motivating Armando enough to continue with the plan.

I think it's very important to understand the intention of what we are being shown here. The writing is meant to help us understand what they are saying. Words, speed of speech, gestures, expressions, and body language help us determine what is actually being said.

When Mario suggest that he take Betty to some tavern or club instead of restaurants Armando says that he doesn't think Betty will like those.

I think we've all established that Armando does care about Betty and therefore I don't need to breakdown his behavior so much. We understand that he is going along with this plan because he wants to keep Eco Moda and Betty all to himself.

Mario, The Love Guru, Calderon takes advantage of Armando's ego and his confused state of mind as of late to play him like a fidel and for some reason still when Armando finally confesses his real feelings for Betty to him he acts surprised.

Armando isn't a saint. He still willinging went along with the plan to make Betty fall in love so when Betty asked him "what about me?" he showed his true colors of selfishness because he dismissed her feelings. He dismissed the potential heartbreak and downfall of a woman who has been exceptional with him, who he recognizes as exceptional and yet for his ego and his company he used her like a pawn, even if it was his favorite one, he didn't care.

For him right now Betty is just an object that he likes a lot and these scene show us that.

[EDIT: While yes I still think Armando still views Betty as an object, this next scene shows us that that is starting to change.]

As the scene continues Mario tries to downplay Armando's guilt by saying that he's basically doing charity work because no man, especially one like him[Armando] would ever be interested in, muchless court, a woman like Betty.

Armando goes to clarify what he's trying to saying.

"You don't understand what I'm trying to say. I'm going to end up causing her harm. See I can tell it's really easy to get her to fall in love. " Now we hear from that man of the hour, how he feels about Betty's kiss though he only describes the way she kisses him, his expressions and his tone of voices allows us to see that he likes her kisses and how they make him feel, however because he thinks she's "ugly" it's hard for him to understand this.

"Everytime she kisses me it's with such a tenderness, a sweetness, where she holds my face and stares at me with such an admiration, like if I were her idol." While he says he speaks of it with fondness and I must admit, lovingly.

He doesn't hate her kisses and he doesn't hate the way he feels about them. So he didn't wipe away Betty's kisses and brush his mouth because of Betty's kisses because he was disgusted. He did it for Marcela and her ego and his guilt because the kisses meant more to him than any other kisses he's ever given, that's why the first kiss was strange. That's why he is so confused about it but what stops him again from understanding the significance of these feelings is Betty's outer appearance.

This is now trekking away from the objectification of Betty to a more sentimental route where he no longer just views her as his possession but an actual person.

The moment Calderon jokes "It's because you are her idol." Armando shuts off, he stops trying to explain himself or his feelings and annoyed asks Mario what does he think of the whole thing then?

"When we recover Eco Moda, pay off our debts, and recover our money, what then? What happens to her? What happens with that relationship?"

"Well you do what you do with every girlfriend that becomes a burden. You fire her, you get rid of her."

Remember that Armando was willing to fire Claudia, until Mario made him feel guilty for the lecture he gave him about Aura Maria. Even then after Marcela asked for her head he didn't hesitate to talk to Hugo about it, who gave him a lecture about it.

However he was hesitant to fire Betty, even before there was any romance involved. He didn't want to get rid of her so now that Mario says that once she gives them back everything they can get rid of her Armando looks at him in disbelief and angry.

Armando really doesn't want to ever have Betty outside of his life and he can't imagine his life without her in it in someway or form.

Now, Patty goes in yelling, Armando shows up, kindly speaks to Betty while aggressively speaks to Patty.

Again this display's Armando's guilt but also his desire to make Betty happy by treating her well.

#analysis of ysblf #armando ysblf #don armando #armando mendoza #betty #beatriz pinzon solano #betty pinzón solano #beatriz pinzón solano #betty ysblf #betty la fea #yo soy betty la fea #mario calderon

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

Text

What makes me human [Cyberpunk! America x reader] 11

Wordcount: 5,150 Rating: M for strong language, ideologically sensitive and mature themes, gore “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did.” Chapter synopsis: Allen and Arthur race to find you both, but it proves to be harder without knowing your whereabouts. Meanwhile, you've successfully helped Alfred find the chip. Before leaving, you have a long-awaited conversation with your father to realize he's more insane than you thought. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Songs to listen to while you read (in order as found in playlist): Cyberninja, Trouble finds trouble, Tower Lockdown, Me!Me!Me!, Pt. 2, Him & I (with Halsey), Atlantis. I have indented song titles throughout the chapter so you can change accordingly. Starting now:

Cyberninja

Before Arthur could even buckle himself in, Allen rammed his foot into the gas pedal. He was thrown back in a violent manner, and hit his head against the headrest. But the mechanic never complained. He looked stressed enough as is, continually scanning the road while murmuring to himself as if he’d really gone mad. “Hell, that motherfucker could be anywhere in the whole fucking city right now.” He hissed, pulling out of the driveway and into the main road.

“We can’t call him. Track him. Nothing. Same goes for (F/N). They’re off the map.” Turning to his companion numerous times in distress, he sped through the streets, though he had no particular destination in mind.

The indicator clicked. Allen cursed at the car in front of them, but never made a move to overtake. As Arthur became overwhelmed by these stimulants, he opened his mouth, defeated. “If you’re in such a hurry, why--why bother following traffic rules? You never have before, so why now?” He asked with a shake of the head, earning a loud scoff from the other.

The car windows glowed with a flurry of pinks and purples as they moved closer to the commercial district. They were near their first stop.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t give a damn if I didn’t have to.” The whites of his eyes reflected a mosaic of color as he never looked away from the road. “But that was when I was working for my boss. I had protection. I could do a hit and run if I wanted, and without the running part.” The redhead breathed. Then, he stuck his head out of the window with a huff. Immediately, he was choked by the city smog, and deafened by the blaring of car horns.

“Friggen’ prick...” He flipped off the driver in front of him. Sitting back into his seat, he flashed Arthur a grin, though the man couldn’t return the energy.

“Did you get fired? Or did you quit?” This wasn’t the best time to ask about the past, but he had been dying to know why he wound up half-dead on his doorstep. So what better a time to do it than now?

“I quit.” Allen answered point-blank. “Old man didn’t take it well. Decided to kill me. Didn’t.” Slowing the vehicle, they arrived at a parking-lot surrounded by backdoors of multiple piss-poor establishments. One of which was illuminated by a flickering red neon sign that read ‘no-tell motel’.

“He thinks I’m dead, so the rest of the city has to think that too.”

Arthur gawked at him. “That makes you no better than a fugitive! And it’s not just anybody after you--Allen, he’ll kill you when he finds out you’re still alive!”

“And that’s why he won’t find out.” Tapping the side of his neck for a flap to open, the said man slotted a small disk inside. “Disables cybernetic upgrades in a twenty foot radius. Means I can’t use mine, but it stops other people from figuring out who I am.” He dug through one of the compartments for a muffler, which he wrapped around the bottom half of his face.

What he did next was alarming, however. Sticking his hand further in, he pulled out a gun and cocked it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell are you doing--!?” Arthur exclaimed, fumbling with a face mask Allen tossed his way. He didn’t see a silencer anywhere either. “If I can call the police without any upgrades, so can everyone else!”

His statement couldn’t ring any truer, and yet, it never slowed down the other’s movements as he climbed out of the car. Unsatisfied by his silence, he wound up getting out to follow him. “Oi, say something! At least let me know you’re not gonna shoot up a restaurant!” Whispering that part out, he had to speed up a few steps to catch up with the man, now marching to the backdoor of a motel.

“Put the mask on.” Allen murmured without sparing him a single glance. But he paused briefly to process what he said. “... A motel, you mean. But I’m hoping we won’t have to resort to that.”

Arthur’s eyes went round. “You were considering--”

He could share the desperation to save Alfred’s life, but he had a hard time following how. Shooting up a motel? What was he thinking?

“Yes.” Attaching his hand to the door, it creaked open. Before Allen took another step, he faced him with a serious glower. “Now when we get inside, I want you to walk up to the receptionist. He’s programmed to greet you. Ask him for a room, and while you do, I’ll approach him from behind and deactivate him. Kapeesh?”

But then again, he was in the dark here. Arthur hadn’t the slightest clue on what Alfred’s circumstances were, as mysterious as the man was, so he had no idea how he was on the verge of dying.

So naturally, he wouldn’t know how to save him either.

But he trusted Allen to know what to do.

“... Alright. You better not make me regret this, you tyke.”

“You can call me anything you want, just not that. I’m not a kid anymore.” Those words would become apparent as they walked inside, where their plan went by without a hitch. They heard the automated voice of superficial kindness, which stopped abruptly to the sound of an android powering off. Its body fell to the ground to reveal Allen standing behind. Without wasting a second, he leaned over and typed furiously on the keyboard of the computer.

Trouble finds trouble

“Lemme see if this has a log of everybody who came by...” A few moments later, he started nodding at what he saw. “Bingo...” On their private encrypted server, stored the history of all the guests who booked a night. “Well, what do you know... Alfred checked out two days ago. But he’s on the move.” Pulling away to stand up straight, he jogged over to the exit.

“Even if someone tried to look for him in one a’ these places, he’d have to get behind the reception and do exactly what I did.” This someone referred to Matsumoto, but death already followed Alfred wherever he went. Not that Alfred knew that. “The perks of a no-tell motel. Even if they reek of piss, so long as there’s crime, they’ll never go out of business.” He beckoned Arthur to follow him with a tilt of the head.

“One down, twenty-seven more to go. And that’s only in the direction he’s going... And under the assumption he’s only staying at these motels. So, uh, let’s hope he didn’t try to be too unpredictable.”

The Brit huffed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I think he’d be predictable to do that if you asked me.” He murmured. “But you call the shots. I’ll just be... Moral support.”

Allen already disappeared out the door, but his head poked into the doorframe at that. “Nah. You have the most important job outta’ the both of us.”

That was right. He didn’t tell him yet. He really should’ve a while ago, but he got caught up in the chase.

“Whether you remove a chip from his head or not will determine if he lives or not.”

Arthur paled.

“He’s the guy my boss wanted me to kill. Remember the dude I told you about? The one who tried to steal a prototype chip three years ago?” Now that he mentioned it, he recalled the conversation a few weeks ago. But wait a minute.

The mechanic felt his face scrunch up as he was hit with a major epiphany. That was Alfred? The terrorist Allen had been updating him about? He was the man who tore up three floors of the headquarters of Matsumoto Optics, and simultaneously, the same customer he had been serving for the last few years.

Before he could even process his shock, he was presented with even more appalling information.

“He stole it this time. That’s what he and (F/N) disappeared to do. But now that it’s in his head, it’ll overwrite his consciousness until he’s a fucking vegetable.”

Arthur was horrified. “Then why would he even--”

“Because he doesn’t know.” Allen cut in with a grim expression. “He thought the chip was supposed to give him immortality, so he wanted to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. Like my boss. But no. It’s the opposite. It was all a ploy to kill him.” At this point, the blonde was at loss for words. As a doctor and mechanic, he was quite frankly terrified of how devilishly clever Matsumoto was. But he couldn’t expect any less from him, could he?

They made it back to the car, and he could only stare aimlessly out the windshield, paralyzed.

“That’s why we need you.” He heard him say. Turning to the man, albeit slowly, he felt a hand slap down on his shoulder. Allen gave him a lopsided grin. “You’re the smartest guy I know, second to my boss. You were always great at fixing stuff. Cars, enhancements, people--so what’s a mixture of all three?”

Arthur dug a hand through his hair stressfully. “... You’re kidding.” And yet, he already knew he was on board. “... Are you calling him a car?”

The other flattened his lips. “... He technically could be.”

“Just to be clear, I fucking hate you.”

Allen laughed. “Sure.”

“But otherwise, we’re wasting time.” He couldn’t believe the words falling from his lips. This was really happening, wasn’t it? After taking him in as an apprentice for his auto shop, the roles were finally reversed. He no longer took charge as the teacher. Or rather, he became the student caught up in the most difficult assignment yet. Having a taste of Allen’s work.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

***

Tower Lockdown

You had all the reasons in the world to be anxious coming home.

On top of worrying over Alfred, who had hundreds of trained assassins coming at him all at once, during every minute of the heist, you had to face an aspect of reality you avoided until now. You were in the building, and he had already stolen the chip. It was slotted comfortably in his head, ready to leave the premises.

How come your father never appeared? Was he really just going to let you go just like that?

But the real question was this--should you stay or leave?

Yes, you hardly approved of anything he’d done. Done to the world like Alfred always mentioned, and to Alfred himself. But you weren’t prepared to abandon him yet. He was still your father, and the only family you had. If you had to make a decision, you needed some closure. If not, a discussion.

And you expected him to give it to you as the least he could do.

As Alfred stood among a pile of dead bodies bathing in red, his mantis blades trembled against a katana blade. Even with his hands full, he made the time to check on you. “(F/N)! Stay away from walls! Just hang on for a second longer!” He shouted, turning to you briefly before diverting his attention back to his opponent. “We’re nearly home free!”

Pulling away to give him a swift jab in the chest, blood sprayed onto his face, but he wasn’t fazed.

What did, however, was the sight of you being thrown over the shoulder of one of the bodyguards. Color drained from his face and he burst into a sprint.

“(F/N)! No!” Watching you disappear into an elevator, he slammed right into the closing metal doors. “Fuck!” He slammed his fist against them to hear a loud bang. Before he could linger too long, he hastily made his way to a door adjacent. The emergency stairs would take a hell lot longer, but as if he’d wait for the elevator to come back down.

Even if he needed to climb up a hundred flights to get to you, he would--all the way to the penthouse where Matsumoto was.

When those men approached you, there was no struggle on your end. You knew where they were going to take you. And you wanted them to. It could even be said you were relieved, because that meant your father was thinking of you. After a minute or so, the soft whirring fell silent, followed by a soft ‘ding’.

They moved outside the elevator, and after a few steps, they set you down on your feet. Right in the middle of your father’s office. At the very end behind a desk sat the man himself, and he was eyeing you with an unreadable expression. Upon returning his stare, came an onslaught of emotions. But the most prominent was incapacitating anxiety.

Even as his daughter, you could never see through him. He was impossible to read. So you had no idea what to expect.

“Dad... We need to talk.” You began, walking up to him warily. This was what you wished for at the start, cried for, even. To return home. And yet, the nervous pounding in your chest seemed to worsen with every step you took. It was jarring to confront how much had changed since then. So while you barely managed any words, you were already overwhelmed, struggling to choke back tears.

“For once, I need to know what you’re thinking.”

He inhaled deeply before responding. “I was under the same impression that we’d have this conversation.” Standing up from his chair, he furrowed his brows at the sight of you clenching the fabric of your pants. “Don’t look so nervous, child. You haven’t done anything to anger or disappoint me.” Reaching out to your head, he settled a hand on it.

“... Really?” You whispered out. Hearing his assurances calmed you down a touch. But when you saw the forlorn gaze he cast down at you, your heart was crushed. “... Dad?”

Me!Me!Me!, Pt.2

Any existing contempt for him melted away just like that, but you weren’t upset at yourself for it. Your father hardly expressed any emotion besides calm indifference. And when he did, it always felt like the world was ending.

“I’m the one who deserves your anger.” He clarified, lowering his hands to your shoulders. “I’ve left you by yourself for far too long, (F/N). I hope you don’t hold it against me that you had to come home yourself.” You hung your head, unable to meet his saddened gray eyes. If you were to hold a grudge at him for it, you’d start by avoiding his gaze. “And I understand why you would’ve wanted to help him. He has a way with words, and a naïve sense of justice. But it’s a warped perception of reality.”

You’d hate to admit it, but no matter how cruel he seemed to be, there was a method to his madness.

And you were perhaps the only person in the world to know it.

That was why you were so torn. Torn between hating him and understanding him. After all, you couldn’t have both. “You can’t blame him after what you did to him.” Glancing up at that, you felt bile rise in your throat. Then, your vision blurred. “I don’t know what you’re aiming for--for this company, and this world. But you can’t expect him to accept this world you created when you stole him from his. He had a life!”

Staring at him through hot tears, he breathed out a soft sigh before rubbing them away with a swipe of the thumb. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. And I won’t expect you to forgive me even after telling you the reasons for my actions.”

He pulled away from you to begin walking back to his desk, but not to sit down. Instead, he stood by the window to watch the blinking lights of skyscrapers and small moving dots of cars on the streets. “In a society that normalizes cybernetic enhancements, many forget what it is to be human. He never did. So of course, he would reject the idea of immortality. The destruction of the most human quality there is.”

He paused briefly to scan the landscape.

“Mortality. One’s inevitable end gives everything they do meaning.”

Wrinkles creased between your brows. It was confusing to hear him speak so highly of death, frustrating, even. Wasn’t he the one investing billions into correcting it like a flaw? “If that’s what you really think, then why? Why would you make something that would take that all away?”

He held his hands behind his back. “To serve the greater good. A sacrifice, if you will.” The man turned to you, this time with a serious glower. “Alfred thinks I would commercialize it. Sell it to the public. But he’s wrong. Immortality will only be available to the leaders of the world.”

By leaders, you could only assume he meant people like him. Not politicians, but business men and women. Company owners. The most powerful forces of the present. “The inability to die is a curse. You never move on because you’re still breathing. But that may be just what the world needs. Stagnation. An absence of change.”

It was daunting to know this man was your father. You couldn’t say you were born with half as many of these attributes he had. Intelligence was easily passed down, but there was something else written in his genes you could never dream of having. “With every passing year, decade, and century, humanity frays like a rope. Society continues to deteriorate... All until self-destruction becomes a matter of time.” Facing the window again, he scanned the impressive architecture he was proud to call his own. And it looked as pristine as it did yesterday.

“The only way to stop this was to take control of it myself. And that’s how I came to found this company. I’ve found a way to govern the people. To invest in science as the world’s last and only hope. But it’s a job that will last eons, so I was prepared to do it until the end of time.”

He was right in saying that society was inevitably doomed with the direction it was heading. That technology was the only solution, along with a world government. Matsumoto Optics. A cosmocracy with jurisdiction over the whole planet. There would be no wars. No conflict. And with only one state to call the shots, things could be done so much faster on a global scale.

It was a radical concept to grasp, but you couldn’t say there was no logic to it. “Alfred was meant to do it with me. To reincarnate again and again as my closest aide on my quest to preserve the world. But he ended up being the opposite. My foil.” Matsumoto shook his head. “Alfred is a nostalgic soul. He’s too attached to the past. But the way of the old can never last with how fast it makes the world burn. Even if he realized that, he would want to exact revenge on me after what I’ve done to him.”

“So before he destroys everything I’ve created, I have to destroy him first.”

Him & I (with Halsey)

You tensed up all over, but before you could ask him what he meant by destroy, the doors burst open. The very subject of the conversation had appeared, and just in time for the conclusion of it. His arrival caught you completely off guard, successfully derailing your train of thought, but your father merely acknowledged his arrival. “Ah. Speak of the devil.”

“Speak for yourself, you fucking demon.” He spat, marching over to your side to pull you into his chest. Immediately putting his hands all over your face, he was riddled with concern as he inspected you. “You okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you in time. What are you still doing here? C’mon, let’s go.” While he reached down to your hand to lead you away, you stayed put.

As relieved as you were to see him here, you couldn’t follow him out yet. You gave his hand a squeeze, then a soft smile of reassurance. Then, you turned to your father.

This time, you held him in a firm stare.

“Even if everyone thinks you’re crazy, I always knew you’d have some kind of justification for everything.” You started. Little did you know, you would take back this statement in the very near future. “But I can’t forgive you for what you did to Alfred. He never ended up doing anything you wanted him to, so giving him all those adjustments was pointless for you. But not for him. If you wanted to get rid of him, it wouldn't be easy.”

Matsumoto closed his eyes as if to agree. That was what you interpreted it as, at least. But unbeknownst to you, he was doing anything but. “I wouldn’t know what’s best for this world.”

“But what I do know is that I won’t let you hurt him.”

You spoke those words with a conviction so strong, Alfred’s eyes widened when he heard it. It wasn’t news you cared deeply for him, but to hear you say it to your father like that, and Matsumoto, no less, it made his mechanical heart pound more than he could fathom. You were actively disobeying him, a man you previously revolved your life around, for his sake. To say he was infatuated would be an understatement.

You felt his grip on you tighten.

“Say what you will, and I’ll respect your conviction. But I will come for him.” The bearded man murmured in a foreboding tone. A sinister light glinted in his dark gray irises. “And in the most unexpected way he could ever imagine. You will never want to see me again when that happens.”

“If.” Your voice was a little strained. As much as you wanted to hate him and move on, you couldn’t. Every single fiber of your being was urging you to find a reason, any reason, to not despise the man who raised you. “If, dad. Because if you did, I really will never forgive you. I’ll hate you forever.”

A grim expression contorted at his face. In his many decades on the planet, he’d never felt more dread. But one had to wonder if that was the right word. The regret had already arrived, because he’d already done something unforgivable. It was only a matter of time before you’d find out. “I’ve already done something to earn your unconditional hatred, child.”

That was right. He’d killed Allen, your best friend and only other semblance of family in your life. And perhaps, the person you held the closest to your heart. “Soon, you will learn what it is. So I’ll let you leave today because you will never want to come back. I’d imagine that to be more… Convenient for you.”

It was only your ignorance that blessed him this last moment. The last moment where you’d see him as your father with eyes unclouded by hatred. But it was short-lived.

It didn’t take long for you to put two and two together, and in your short silence, you came to remember someone that had been gone for a while. Allen.

Atlantis

You woke up in a cold sweat. For just one measly second as you oriented yourself, you weren’t tortured by a fury. Betrayal. Disgust. But it all came rushing back to you like the memories of that Godforsaken day you met with your father.

Sitting up with a deep frown, you felt heat build up around your face. It would be etched in your mind forever. The memory of Allen laying in the dump. Tossed out like a broken toy. Then, the stench of blood and rust as he was left for dead.

You always knew your father was mad, but he kept on surprising you with how mad he was. Turning to the figure beside you, tears only overwhelmed your waterline to see his chest rise and fall steadily.

He was still here. Alive and well. You could only hope the same for Allen.

It had been ten days since the heist. There hadn’t been a single sign of Matsumoto or his men, meaning Alfred really did do his research on the best places to hide. Climbing onto his form, you wound up laying on his chest. Then, you peered down at his sleeping face.

As you got comfortable, you felt a smile creep onto your lips. If the you from a few months ago saw what you were doing, she’d be flabbergasted. Since when did you like him this much?

Your cheeks grew a little rosy as you became self-aware of the position you were in. Full-on embarrassment hit you when he began to stir, but before you could get off of him, his eyes fluttered open. Uh oh. Now this warranted an explanation.

For a second, he was confused, but when he saw that it was just you, he grinned lazily. “Morning, babe. Care to tell me why you’re not sleeping on your side of the bed?”

He’d totally cornered you. And did he just call you babe? “Um... I, well... I woke up on you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I was just about to get off.” Sliding yourself off of him at that, you tried your damndest to simmer down. But he never gave you the chance. Rolling over to face you, he pulled you in around your waist much to your surprise. “Hey!”

You never got around to pointing out that pet name, either.

He caught you in a serious stare. “Don’t be so shy. We’re close, aren’t we?” Alfred was never one to beat around the bush. You knew that better than anyone, but that didn’t mean you were used to it. Lowering your head at that, you fixated on his chest.

“... I guess so. That doesn’t mean I can sleep on you like that, though. And plus, it must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Nah. You’re light as hell.” He hummed. Sitting up with you on his lap, his statement became more apparent in how effortless he made it seem. “You’re like a few grapes, really. So don’t worry about it.”

Why he chose to focus on that part of your argument was beyond you. Did he really not see anything wrong with what you were doing? Or maybe he did, and didn’t want to mention it. He’d been hugging you a lot lately the past week, but that wasn’t as deserving of your attention as spooning you while he slept.

Wasn’t he pushing the envelope? It would make sense he was just trying to comfort you after your run-in with your father, and your discovery that he was the one who attempted to off your best friend. But wasn’t this a bit much?

He wrapped his arms around your neck. There was nothing between you both, and yet, he was holding you like there was. Like you were his.

"...” It was in his smile. It was different to how he always looked at you, as if there was finally something behind those electric blue irises. Something alive. Something hot. As you played around with the idea, you lit up like a Christmas tree and pushed his mouth away. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Almost as if he read your mind, he relented. But only reluctantly. Picking you up from under your arms, he set you onto the mattress so he could get out of bed. Looking back at you over his shoulder, he gave your cheek an affectionate pinch. “Whatever you say. I’ll be back after a piss.”

When he left the room, you were left to your own devices. As you brought your knees to your chest, you came to realize how tight it was. He’d only left for a few seconds, and you were already waiting for him to return. It was ridiculous to think about, but it was almost as if you missed him. Already.

Did spending all this time with him give you some kind of separation anxiety?

Or was it something more?

You couldn’t tell.

The fact that he mentioned ‘I’ll be back’ suggested he was aware of your attachment to him. You buried your face into your knees.

Turns out, you weren’t the only one having a hard time processing your feelings.

When he disappeared into the bathroom, he pressed his back against the wall. Reaching up to his chest, he scrunched up a part of his shirt as the pounding in his heart subsided--his metaphorical one. Alfred didn’t think it was weird to find you on top of him like that, let alone dislike it. In fact, he loved it. It gave him a shred of hope that maybe, you did like him the way he liked you.

But that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t be with you.

This was the fifth motel he’d been to after the heist. There was no saying he’d be dead by the end of the day. Not when your father was after his head. So he wasn’t about to start anything. That would be too selfish, even for him--though one had to wonder if ‘selfish’ could even describe him anymore. He was anything but. At least, for you he wasn’t.

Alfred would only be proven right when he took a step towards the toilet. His vision started to glitch. Then, he lost his balance, falling over the sink and slamming his head against the mirror. “Fuck--!” Stumbling back onto his feet, he was engulfed in black for a few seconds. What the hell was going on?

His bout of disorientation lasted for far too long to be normal.

Before he would start accepting the prospect of going blind, his vision returned. He thought he would celebrate that moment, but he forgot what he was even fussing about. What happened? Lowering his gaze to his hands, he stared at them for a while before looking back up. What was he doing here? Where was he?

That was right. He was in a motel. With you. Running away from uncertain death. It took a minute or so to recall all of these things, and that was what alarmed him. It seemed like his body wasn’t accepting the chip very well.

Temporary memory loss and blindness was just apart of the transition, right?

Little did he know, it was anything but.

Outside that very district sat two men in a car. Bags hung under their dull eyes as they scanned the streets as vigilantly as their sleep deprivation let them. It had been two days since they slept, but they wouldn’t rest until they found him. There were only four days until the damage was done.

If they didn’t get to the man before then, he would be as good as dead.

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happi-tree · 4 years

Text

On The Style and Effectiveness of 1-A Hero Costumes - Part 2/5

Part 2 of this post!

NAVIGATION

Part 1 2 3 4 5

INGENIUM / IIDA TENYA

It’s armor time!!! Behold a man.

What I don’t like:

The costume seems too bulky for a Quirk and fighting style that optimize speed. And while it’s true that cars are pretty bulky but still go fast, it’s equally true that certain types of cars are designed to go faster. The current design reminds me most of a semi or a big SUV, but if the costume was more streamlined along the lines of racecars or sports cars, it would help take off the extra weight that the bulk provides, leaving Iida lighter and more streamlined - therefore, faster.

Some examples of slimmer armor include Go Go Tomago’s from Big Hero 6 and Jim Lake Jr.’s from Trollhunters. And while I get that his body type inherently lends itself to being tank-like, lightening up on the bulk would probably be great for him.

The exhaust pipes out of his back confuse me. They bring some car energy, which is entirely welcome, but they likely hinder balance and motion, which is bad. They leave him looking a little unbalanced, and since so much of his strength and his fighting ability focuses on his lower body, having excess superficial material protruding out of the sides like that doesn’t seem to lend him any favors. And even while it looks cool, it just seems like it would be uncomfortable? Especially since a lot of runners - Iida included - like having full range of their arms to help propel them forward. The pipes might get in the way of that.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how this look both makes sense with Iida’s Quirk and personality and plays with elements of his older brother’s costume. It simultaneously puts across some knightly vibes - which is genius, considering how chivalrous and rule-following Iida typically is - and also calls to mind Transformers and cars with the emphasis on the engines and some of the more mecha elements.

The support! Armor is such an easy way to protect yourself while also getting some serious style points. His most essential areas are covered - neck, chest, arms, and legs - which is especially important considering that Iida’s legs are integral to his Quirk and his fighting style. The helmet is also a really good choice, considering this boy is essentially a human car. He looks a bit intimidating wearing it, which is good for fighting Villains, I suppose. Class dad is protected.

And a misc. note:

You know how after Iida’s special Recipro Burst move, he has to wait awhile while his engines cool back down? I think it would be really neat if he implemented some cooling technology into his Hero suit (similarly to Todoroki’s temperature-regulating gear). Theoretically, if he could find something that worked a bit like coolant for his engines, he would have a much quicker reaction time - and speed is the main facet of his Quirk, so it would probably help a lot!

Overall: Very good at providing protection while having a bomb-ass aesthetic. Not quite so good at being built for speed.

I CANNOT STOP TWINKLING / AOYAMA YUUGA

On the other side of the armored spectrum… we have this kid!

What I don’t like:

*Edna Mode voice* NO CAPE! Why do I not like the cape? Capes can snag on stuff very easily and it would be an easy thing for Villains to target and use to unbalance Aoyama. Longer capes are especially susceptible to getting trapped under rubble, torn up, or covered in gunk from the environment (which is not the Look he seems to like). I feel like a shorter cape would get a similar message across while minimizing the potential dangers that a long cape poses. Of course, Aoyama can be trained via experience to utilize his costume effectively with the full-length cape, but when his life and the lives of others are on the line, I’d rather not take that chance.

The shades. I get that they’re iconic, but they’re taking rose colored glasses a bit too seriously. 110% will fall off his face and also messes with the princely Vibe the rest of his costume provides. I do like their Elton John energy, though.

Not a bad thing, but I just want to know how his belt works.

Here’s what I like:

The overall aesthetic. I love how the costume’s obvious “princely knight” vibe reflects so much of Aoyama’s character.

The support here is also really good! Working the belt into the theme of his costume so seamlessly is very innovative and I love that for him. Getting the knee pads and shoulder pauldrons to match his central laser both adds to the uniqueness of the outfit and also pushes that royalty theme since they look very similar to inset gems.

The color scheme. Purple, silver, gold, and black look very classy and regal together, and I appreciate how the royal purple ties back into the concept of European royalty, which is very in-character for this boy. His pantaloon-looking things??? Neato.

Overall: Eh, okay. Ditch the glasses and shorten the cape. Superb, you funky lil knight light.

CREATI / YAOYOROZU MOMO

Here we are! I’m finally taking a crack at one of the most highly debated hero costumes in the entire show, and like a good portion of people, I’m gonna be extremely salty about it. Yaomomo doesn’t deserve this - none of the girls deserve this. These are my thoughts:

What I don’t like:

The absolute lack of support. For any aspect of her. Nothing about this costume is protective (other than maybe the partial high collar). Her most vulnerable areas are exposed, and while it makes sense for easy Quirk usage, it does not make sense for a girl who’s fighting homicidal maniacs on the front lines. The most glaring area in need of support is obviously her chest, as nothing substantial is holding her bust in place. However, so much could be done to work with the benefits of Creation and against its weaknesses that is not being done in this costume. I’ve seen quite a few redesigns that include a sports bra with a front zip closure, which is worlds better. With the show being set in the future, having a slightly mechanized costume with the ability to retract certain pieces at the press of a button would be useful and likely doable considering Yuuei’s own Support department. Gloves would probably be a good idea to give Yaoyorozu a better grip on harder-to-handle Created objects, such as heavy metal machinery.

The over-sexualization is, obviously, disgusting. Nothing about this costume says “Hero.” What it does say, in-universe, is that someone had the absolute gall to approve and send this outfit to a 15-year-old girl about to be thrown headfirst into training for an extremely dangerous profession. It says that giving a person in their freshman year of high school an overly sexualized outfit meant for combat training is okay (it isn’t, for reasons I can’t even begin to explain). This more closely resembles an outfit for a lingerie or swimsuit model than it does for any type of superhero, which alone should be enough to warrant some serious changes - especially, as I have stated, since the girl is only 15!

The overall aesthetic. There is no aesthetic reading for this costume other than “sexy”, which, as I explained above, is very problematic. Sure, the exposed skin makes sense for her Quirk, since she needs access to skin in order to produce items with Creation, but nothing about this outfit denotes anything about her personality. Yaoyorozu Momo is a gentle girl who has been shown to have self-esteem issues from early on in the show, and just knowing that makes me wonder if she feels uncomfortable wearing this. If she’s totally comfortable in this look, good for her! But comfort in our clothing factors so much into our mental states, which translates directly to our physical performance - it’s the same reason why having clothes that fit you and your style well make you feel more confident and more content. And especially if Yaoyorozu wasn’t quite expecting the amount of skin revealed when her costume was given to her, it could likely have added on to her self-esteem issues as seen early in the school year.

The skintight fit of what amounts to a glorified bathing suit is not conducive or acceptable whatsoever. With such a powerful Quirk, Yaoyorozu needs all the protective material she can get - which, as I said in Uraraka’s analysis, is quite simply not possible to fit under that bodycon fabric. Some padding at the very least would work wonders, and bulletproof material would serve her even better.

Once again, heels are not good for any kind of running or fighting! At least it’s a block heel, which is marginally more stable than, say, a stiletto, but still.

The literal bookshelf on her ass. It makes no sense to put it there - it’s an inconvenient place (what if she needs to sit down?) and it looks incredibly awkward to move around with. Besides, there’s absolutely nothing stopping that book from falling at the slightest jostle. At least give her a proper holster or implement it into a toolbelt like some of the boys have.

What’s with the belt? Can it hold emergency supplies? Or is it just there to make it seem like she’s wearing more than a deep v one-piece? I’m at a loss here.

Here’s what I like:

The color scheme. Deep red, white, and pale yellow look good on her! The color ratios are also pretty good in my opinion. Unfortunately, this is the only good thing I can say about her getup.

And to round us out, some misc. notes:

I feel like the book could be done away with entirely and replaced with something digital. This universe is set multiple centuries into the future, and I think something like a holographic data set would look slick, enable for faster search time for whatever info Yaoyorozu would need, and eliminate the bulk problem completely. At the very least, there could be a smartwatch-type gauntlet to pull up info with a larger screen to enable easy reading. Really, the lack of support for Yaoyorozu’s look is devastating because she could go so many directions in creating an outfit that works with her Quirk’s strengths and against its weaknesses.

Overall: Awful, a disgrace, and a disservice to one of the coolest, kindest characters in the class. I would kill for her to get the outfit she deserves.

INVISIBLE GIRL / HAGAKURE TOORU

Wow, look! Two travesties in a row! One more and I get a bingo!

Hagakure, I love you so much, and I am so, so sorry that the yahoos over at the Support company thought that this was a good idea.

What I don’t like:

Uh. The fact that there isn’t a costume. There is literally no in-universe rationalization for this. Surely, they have the technology. Just look at Lemillion! Togata Mirio’s Quirk is literally phasing through materials (including his own clothing) and they made him his own non-phaseable costume by weaving his own DNA into the fabric! Even if they don’t have the technology (they do), I know that Hatsume and probably the rest of the Support students would immediately jump on the chance of creating a fabric with the ability to switch between visible and invisible modes.

Once again, the sexualization of minor Hero students continues to disturb me. Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to send a naked teenager out into a live battlefield just because she’s less likely to be noticed that way? This line of thought surely doesn’t account for stray bullets or falling debris, nor does it account for this poor girl’s peace of mind. She should be focused on getting the job done and saving people, not worrying about how it’s too cold for her to work properly or how there’s nothing between her body and a loaded gun except for the air between them.

The gloves and shoes seem like they’re kinda. Missing the point of contributing to a stealth Hero costume? Yes, they’re good so that Hagakure can be easily recognized among her allies, but does she just have to stow them wherever when she needs to go fully invisible and hope she can find them once the mission’s over? Plus, Hagakure will always, at the very bare minimum, need something to protect the soles of her feet. Walking barefoot just for everyday civilian stuff would cause a lot of problems, but Heroes likely have a lot of broken glass, broken nails, debris, and other nasty things on the streets where they fight. Tetanus is not fun to have.

Here’s what I like:

The gloves are a nice color, I guess?

Some misc. notes:

I gotta say, I’ve seen SO many good takes on outfit redesigns for Hagakure (same with Yaoyorozu) and the fandom collectively has some wonderful ideas on how to go about creating a costume for her. Personally, I think it would be cool if she had a full-body suit that could change between visible and invisible modes - that way, she would be easy to identify in head counts and it would likely be easier to see places where she could be injured after a fight. At the very, very least they could pull a Lemillion and have her outfit infused with something from her own DNA so it can disappear as she does while leaving her at least covered.

Overall: So, so bad. Please give this girl a suit. I’m tired.

TLDR Part 2:

Great Costumes:

Good: Iida

Okay: Aoyama

Questionable:

Bad:

The Absolute Worst: Yaoyorozu, Hagakure

#happi rambles #anime #bnha #walk walk fashion baby #meta #iida tenya #aoyama yuuga #yaoyorozu momo #hagakure tooru #and here's part two!#as I said earlier I'll link everything together once all parts are posted and I'm sorry if I didn't catch some spelling/grammar errors #long post #class 1A costume analysis

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driftwoodskeleton · 3 years

Note

i cant even pick whom, surprise me :( "didn't see that coming, did you?"

I think this was an angst starter? Allow me to attempt angst!

Edit- Okay this got quite long and pretty dark so I’ve put it under a cut. TW for major character death and also sui*ide mention ;-;

As gunfire rained down on him from every angle, Vicar Max swore viciously, clutching his shotgun to his chest like his life depended on it, which it did, he supposed. He was bleeding heavily, a bullet lodged firmly in his side, but it wasn’t fatal. All he needed to do was get past the hoard hunting him down, and find some thread and a needle. ‘Easier said than done’ he thought bitterly to himself, back up flat against the cold metal half-wall he was hiding behind. Letting go of the weapon with one tentative hand, he quickly rifled though his pockets, fingers like a fungus spreading and searching for something, the one thing that could get him out of the Law-forsaken mess. But no. His search came up short, hands empty, pockets void of ammunition. The gunfire behind him ringing in his ears, Max smirked, the expression more of a twisted snarl, a startling gash of white through his dirt and blood streaked face. This was just like the Architect. Things were going so well with Theo, he was finally becoming a better Max, kinder, more skilled, softer. But that wasn’t the was his path lay apparently. It lay here instead, alone with no weapons, no help, and no way out. Cursing the Architect again, he closed his eyes and blocked out the carnage around him, ignoring the inevitable. He instead chose to focus on his Captain. Theodosia, a straight laced, no nonsense professor. She sure had a lot of nonsense to deal with since coming to Halcyon. Max hadn’t expected thing to turn out the way they had with her, but he wouldn’t change it for anything.

As he sat there, waiting for the Marauders to round the corner and find him, a strange sound grew steadily louder, rushing towards him. His eyes snapped open in panic, focusing on a huge auto-mech as it rounded the corner, training its weapons on him. Heaving a weighted, weary sigh, Max shut his eyes again. At least it would be quick. He heard the mechanicals gun whirring, preparing to fire, and then the short burst of bullets that followed, but then; nothing. no sudden sting of fiery pain as they tore him apart, no sudden snap into darkness. Instead he heard the shriek of metal grinding against itself before hitting the floor, and the heavy breathing of someone in front of him. Someone who wasn’t there when he shut his eyes. Hastily opening them, Max’s eyes registered a familiar shape in front of him, the air thick with dust now. ‘’Captain!’’, he elated, thrilled to see her, the joy blocking something niggling from his mind. When she didn’t reply, he frowned. Maybe she was out of breath? Unconcerned, he started talking again, until the air cleared enough for him to notice the rich crimson stain rapidly spreading across the front of her shirt, which hung off of her in tatters, ripped apart by a hail of bullets. Bullets intended for Max.

Springing up to his feet, he lunged to grab her, catching hold just before she hit the ground. Crouching down he brushed a shaking hand across her face, shifting unruly sprigs of greying hair. Incredulously, Max laughed breathlessly as tears fought to flood from his eyes. ‘’What did you do?! Aha, I mean, this, it’s gotta be, it’ll be just superficial. We’ll get you to Ellie, and it’ll be fine, right?’’ Her face cracked into a crumbling smile, eyes glazing ever so faintly. ‘’Theo, you’re gonna be alright?! I can’- you, you don’t understand okay?!!’’ Max gritted his teeth, moving his hand to press against her stomach, wildly pretending he was stemming the free flowing torrent of blood that stained into his robes as he held her against him. ‘’I won’t lose you. You understand me, I know you do. You always did’’.

Turning his face away, Max chuckled bitterly. She was fading, fast. ‘’What, what did you do? I thought you were long gone. D-did you run out in front of it or something??’’. Gritting his teeth, Max couldn’t fight off the tears any longer as they carved a path through the dust blanketing his skin. With a weak chuckle, Theo nodded, a motion that send a new torrent of unwelcome anguish through Max’s heart. Using the last dregs of her strength, she spoke, her voice edging closer towards a rattle with every word. ‘’D-didn’t, see that c-coming, did y-you?’’. Max opened his mouth to speak but she shushed him, surprising even herself with the vigour of the sound. ‘’No! I un-understand you, just fine... now under, stand m-me! You, you’re going n-nowhere, mmh? Nowhere, y-ya hear?!’’ A sudden tremor ran through her, cutting her off midway, but Max understood. The crew, they were gonna need each-other more than ever with Theo gone.

Lost in his own building grief for a moment, it took Max a second to realise Theo was holding something out, her hand shaking like a sapling. Taking it, Max frowned. It was her Captains identification cartridge. Realising what it meant, he choked, shaking his head violently. ‘’You’re kidding Captain, you’re going to need this back! What good will it be with me? You’re our Captain, you always will be!’’. It took a second for the silence to hit him fully. No reply, not even a whisper of a laugh. No coughing, no laboured breathing. Silence, deafening and dead. With a mounting horror, he dropped the cartridge on the floor, moving his hands to Theo’s shoulders, shaking her like a canid shaking a sprat. ‘’N-no!! Theo, come on, we, we have to go! If we stay, stay any longer, you... you’ll bleed out... we have, we have to go...’’ It was no use. Her eyes were blank and staring, chest still, arms limp. Gone. And he hadn’t even noticed! Too busy messing with the cartridge to notice her slip away.

A guttural, animalistic scream ripped through the air around him, shattering the silence and certainly alerting any remaining Marauders to his location. Max didn’t even register that the sound was coming from him. Climbing to his feet, he left Theo lying on the floor. Grabbing a tarp off the floor, he threw it over her, adjusting it to make it neat and tidy, how she would’ve liked it. Pausing before pulling it over her head, he looked at her, raising an arm to gently shut her eyes. Like that, she looked almost peaceful, like she was just sleeping, ready to wake up any minute. The crows feet round her eyes and lines on the rest of her face seemed to smooth slightly, adding more to the illusion.

Unable to cope with it anymore, Max roughly tugged the tarp over her head, picking up the cartridge before straightening up and walking away over to the twisted metal remains of the auto-mech. Rifling through the broken machine, Max rigged up the machine, connecting wires to make the wrecked hulk an improvised explosive. Listening hard, he heard the Marauders getting closer before turning back to the rigged mech, dragging it over beside where Theo’s body lay. With a heaving sigh he sat down beside her, a calm half smile on his face. A Halcyon without her was no home for him. There was no way he was facing it without her. Sure, it was a cowards way out, but he didn’t care anymore. Was it cowardly to commit so fully to loving someone that the ideal of an existence without them is unbearable? Max didn’t think so.

As the Marauders got closer, Max grabbed two things. One was Theodosia’s hand, that he gripped so tightly his knuckles gleamed white through his skin. The other, was the trigger for the rigged auto-mech. As the hoard of Marauders rounded the corner, Max looked down at Theo and smiled softly, a single tear running down his cheek. ‘’Bet you didn’t see this coming, huh?’’.

Wow okay that got darker than I meant for it to ;-; I’m sorry. I hope it wasn’t too dark. I need to figure out how to add a cut I think. Erm, I’ll work on that now.

🌸Thank you for the ask🌸

#thank you for the prompt!#kourumi #character death #tw sui mention #the outer worlds #tow #outer worlds #gaming #the unreliable #captain doctor theodosia caust #maximillian desoto #answered ask #my writing #questionable clarity

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n3rdybird · 4 years

Text

The Serpent Ch 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite‘s 7.7k Celebration/Covid Sucks Challenge. My prompt was this image.

Not gonna lie, this got away from me a bit, and looks like it might flesh out into several chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Vikings

OFCxIvar

Rating:Teen

Warnings: Blood/Battle/Curse words

The singing of swords echoed through the trees. Ivar and his men mowed down English soldiers with relish, screaming their victory. Ivar, atop his chariot, pounded his axe against the woodside, eager for more. The wood bridge was no-man’s land as both sides rushed each other, dying over the water. Ivar urged his horse forward, his blood pounding with every Englishman slain. Out of nowhere, a sword caught his arm, causing his grip on his horse's reins to falter. The horse panicked, causing the cart to careen sideways on the rickety bridge. The chariot slammed into the side of the bridge, sending Ivar over the edge. He had but a moment to see the clouded sky overhead, before falling into the churning river.

-------------------------------

The calm quiet of the glade was an illusion. The plush green moss underfoot, the soft rushing of the river, the clear blue sky. By all accounts, it was a peaceful day. But the muddied red river and corpses along the banks betrayed that notion.

A lone figure picked through the woods, a piebald horse trailing after her a few paces behind. She laughed as the horse would pause to chomp at the occasional green leaf. The horse would toss his head, annoyed, when she would urge him forward with a click of her tongue. He would take his revenge by nibbling at her chestnut brown hair in defiance. Legs encased in sturdy leather leggings, her torso covered by a thick band topped with animal fur. Her boots were soft and pliant; she didn't make a sound as she scanned the grounds for various plants.

She paused when coming upon the bloody scene. She hitched her herb basket higher up on her back before squatting to inspect the closest body. The chain mail and metalwork of his armor pointed to a soldier of Lord Aldrich. She curled her lip in distaste; she had run-ins with his men before. Her family was not welcome to the ‘civilized’ English. She scavenged his corpse, searching for anything of use. When she found nothing, she moved on to the next. The leather armor was similar to what her people wore but thicker and heavy with metal studs. These men were not her kin, nor Alrich’s. They were someone new.

While towns did not appeal to her, they were a great source of news. She heard the whispers of the elders, as they discussed the possible allies or enemies. Northmen, they were called. The heathen monsters from across the sea; known for pillaging, killing, wearing their enemies blood like warpaint. Something most parents would tell children to frighten them to stay close to home. Much like the tales that surrounded her kin. But this scene proved they were human and bled, like all men.

She made her way to each of the bodies, picking over each one. She found very little, refusing to take any of the adornments of the unknown warriors. If they were fighting with her clan’s enemies, they deserved the courtesy of not being picked over like carrion. She found a dagger tucked into a waterlogged belt. It was well made and would be easy for her to wield. She stood and brushed off her knees, not wanting to linger when a groan caught her attention. Brandishing the purloined knife, her eyes darted around to find the source.

As the groan reverberated again, she pinpointed its source to a fallen log. The enormous oak was half-submerged under the river. The tree's limbs acted like a sieve to catch anything in the river’s current. Wedged in the branches was a body. Curiosity winning out against sense, the woman wadded into the water, following the sound. She tossed the debris aside, revealing a young man, pale but breathing. He had blood clotting at his temple and a nasty gash on his shoulder. He wasn’t one of Aldrich’s men that was certain. His braided hair was decorated with beadwork and his armor matching that of the Northmen. She kneeled, the cold water lapping at her thighs, and reached out to trace his brow. He was young, no wrinkles but a few silvery white scars spaced apart on his skin, most likely from battle. He was a handsome sort, and no doubt a person of importance, if his stylized armor was to go by. She was so focused on her appraisal that she didn’t see him move until it was too late.

Pain shot up her arm, her wrist held in a bruising grip.

“Hvem er du?” his voice growled out.

Although his language was unfamiliar, his gravel-toned voice made her shudder. His forceful tone and his grip were intimidating, but the bright blue eyes staring drew her in. Steeling herself, she wrenched her wrist away and reached for the dagger at her waist. The warrior was quicker and had her dagger against her throat in a flash.

“Hvem er du!” he yelled, the blade demanding against her skin. He trembled and blinked, his eyes unfocusing. He was weak and close to falling unconscious again.

She leaned into the blade, the metal cutting her flesh. He stared at the blood trickling down her next, before bringing his piercing blue eyes back to hers.

“Elda,” she introduced, taking the knife from his weakening grip and putting his hand on her chest.

“Ivar,” he mumbled before his head lolled forward. Elda stood up, tucking the knife back into her waistband. He was strong, that was certain. And if half of his men were as strong as he, perhaps her family’s future would not be so bleak. Decision made, she whistled, and her horse plodded closer, whinnying at his owner.

“Come closer Paega, you coward. I’m not carrying this man back to the hut alone.” He tossed his mane and snorted.

“Fine,” she huffed, hefting Ivar as well as she was able. He was heavier than she expected, his upper body strong under his leathers. She clicked her tongue at her horse, and he kneeled, allowing Elda to drape the man over his back. Paega straightened up, dancing a bit in place to get used to the weight on his back.

“Come on now boy, let’s get back home.”

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The trek back to her camp took Elda longer than anticipated. While Paega had a smooth gait, picking through the woods caused the rouncey to stumble at times. She tried to take it slow so as to not aggravate the Northman’s injuries. She would be disappointed if he died after the trouble of getting him out of the river.

Elda crested a hill and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her camp. The wood and thatched roof were modest, but it was hers. The small hut was nestled in a glade surrounded by rocky outcroppings. It had some supplies and a lean-to barn for Paega. The hut itself was sparse, a single room with only one wall. But it was enough for her when she was away from home and needed a safe refuge.

The young woman was able to get Ivar inside with some effort, with Paega all but dumping the Northman onto the wood. After his victorious delivery, the chestnut horse busied himself with a bucket of hay.

The brunette stretched, her back sore from hauling the unconscious man across her threshold. For now, Ivar lay on a bedroll fashioned from furs. Elda collected supplies, herbs, and clean linen dressings and a bowl of water. She arranged them next to the bedroll. The next step would be to undress him. Elda knelt next to his prone form, her fingers attempting to undo all the buckles and straps. She eyed the strange metal skeleton encasing his legs but passed on trying to figure it out. His shoulder was the priority. Each layer she set aside until skin slick with blood revealed itself.

Ivar wasn’t the first man or boy she’d seen shirtless. Her skills as a healer had her seeing many people at stages of undress. Ivar was no boy. His upper body was all sinewy muscles and scattered scars. Elda allowed herself a moment to gaze at the ink adorning his shoulders, wondering what deeds he had completed to earn them or if he had more. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the gash on his arm. It spanned his bicep to his shoulder, deep, but not fatal. The blood loss combined with the cold water of the river led to his current state. She cleaned the wound, first with water to wash away any dirt, and then again with an herbal rinse. If it was painful, only the slightest twitch from her charge betrayed that. Needle and thread in hand, she closed the angry wound with even, small stitches. It would scar, but what was another in his already impressive collection. Ivar grunted in his delirium and opened his eyes.

He panicked sluggishly, attempting to push Elda away.

“Stop Ivar,” she chided, pushing his arm back down with a firm hand. Even in his state, he was almost strong enough to toss her aside. Elda braced his head and brought an earthenware bowl to his lips, water for his parched mouth. He slurped at the bowl, causing him to cough when he took too much. She pulled the bowl from his mouth, even though he groaned in disappointment.

A poultice was next, fresh cloth steeped in warm water and herbs. Goldenrod to stop the bleeding. Garlic to prevent infection. Feverfew to keep him from falling to fever. With the remedy placed on his arm, and then wrapped tight, Elda turned her trained eyes on the rest of him. The gash on his temple was superficial but she cleaned and treated it nonetheless. Ivar watched her through half-lidded eyes, not trusting Elda. She didn’t see any more wounds aside from a few scrapes and bruises on his top half, so she reached for his legs.

“No!” he half roared/half slurred, sitting up to push her hands away. Elda jerked at his outburst, knocking over her bowl. The bloody water splashed across the wood, soaking into the furs. She cursed and stood up.

“Ungrateful ass!” Elda couldn’t help the irritation coloring her tone. She gathered her supplies as Ivar groaned, clutching his shoulder.

“Lay still, else you will undo all of my hard work. And I refuse to stitch you up again,” she said, pushing the stubborn warrior back down. He grunted but allowed Elda to arrange the bedding.

Within moments, Ivar seemed to either fall asleep or unconscious. To be fair, she normally wouldn’t care, he wasn't one of her people. But the elders had a vested interest in the Northmen. After all, the enemy of their enemy is their friend. Or at least their potential ally. She stood and walked to Paega who had finished his meal and nibbled at her pants looking for more.

She laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. Paega was a gift from her father when he realized he couldn't stop her wandering. A sure-footed horse to help her escape should she run into trouble. Over the years, Paega had become her constant companion, seeming to know what she was feeling.

“Is this a foolish idea sweet boy?” she asked the horse, who nickered in response. Elda stroked his nose, the velvety skin of his nose soft against her hands.

Now all she had to do was get her charge to Valkwind without running into Lord Alrich’s men. Or any Northmen who might take offense to her holding one of their own. She could only hope that he would be less combative once the fog of battle waned.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ivar awoke with a start and immediately reached for his weapon, which was not at his side. He was without a shirt and winced when his shoulder pulled. He touched the bandages wrapped around his arm, sniffing the herbal scent wafted from it. The wound was stiff, but not burning with infection. The hovel he was in was little more than a lean-to with a single wall and a raised wooden floor of rough-hewn wood. There were few supplies stashed in boxes or hanging from the roof.

His legs seemed a bit sore, but that was common. However, his leg braces showed damage. He didn’t remember much after catching the blow to his arm, but he remembered falling into the water. The metal was bent in a few places, snapped in others. Ivar cursed under his breath. He wasn't sure if they would hold if he stood, or if they'd crumble under his weight.

A movement to his left drew his attention, and he saw a brown and white horse nosing at some of the hanging herbs.

“Paega!” a feminine voice scolded the horse. A young woman with a pheasant in one hand and a bow around her chest. The horse seemed immune to the chastisement and took a leaf in defiance. The woman grumbled something in a language Ivar didn’t understand but patted the horse's neck. Ivar followed her every move, watching for any sign of aggression. His hands flexed, wishing he had a weapon in his grasp.

“This north man believes me to be an enemy. Surely he’s noticed I have bandaged his wounds,” she said to the horse, turning her gaze to Ivar. While she was speaking English, her accent betrayed the fact it wasn't her first language.

“Who are you?” he asked. The woman tilted her head at his use of English and smiled.

“I am sure that I answered that yesterday, Ivar,” she said, with mirth in her eyes. He frowned at her flippant attitude. Did she know who she was addressing?

“To remind you, my name is Elda,” she introduced with a little bow. Ivar bristled. Was she mocking him?

“Where are my men? Where am I?”

“The alive ones, I do not know. The dead ones, several leagues to the south. It is where I found you, after all. Half-dead. Gratitude would be appropriate,” Elda said with a nod to his shoulder. She took a seat at the edge of the hut and began plucking the feathers with efficient movements. Instead of thanking her, Ivar huffed and reached for his shirt. He twisted his body to reach it and did not see her eyes widen at the design inked on his back.

“You will take me back to my camp,” he ordered, pulling the shirt over his head with a wince.

“I will not,” she retorted, continuing her plucking. “I do not know where your camp is located, nor do I wish to run into Aldrich’s men.”

At the mention of his enemy, Ivar studied the woman. She didn’t seem like the typical English woman. No long swishing skirts, her hair wasn't coiffed but pulled into a loose braid. He admired the way her leather leggings clung to her hips. Elda reminded him of a shield maiden of his people, but less refined. She wore no gold adornments, her few pieces of jewelry made of polished stones or carved bone.

“Aldrich is lord of these lands, yet you speak his name with contempt,” he said, zeroing in on the knife at her hip. If he could get it away from her, he could make his way back to his men. He did not relish losing his command to his brothers.

“Lord of these lands, pah,” she said with disgust. “My people have been here for generations, long before Lord Aldrich deemed it his.” She pulled the last stubborn feathers out with a vicious yank and set the bird down.

“And who are your people?” he asked with veiled interest.

She looked amused at the question.

“My people? If you were to ask our enemies, we are the uncivilized heathens who spurn their ‘God’, commune with nature spirits, and snatch their children to drink their blood.”

At this Ivar grinned. Such stories were familiar, after all his reputation was similar.

“Is there truth to the stories?”

Elda smiled and pulled her knife out of its sheath. She tapped the knife against the pheasant.

“We don’t drink children’s blood. Why waste the whole child?”

Ivar laughed at her jape.

Elda methodically slid the knife through the bird's flesh, pulling the meat from the bones. Ivar had to admit, her knife skills were impressive. He could only imagine what she could do against her enemies, slicing through skin with deft precision.

She finished butchering the bird and set the knife aside. She stood up and made her way to the small cookfire outside the hut. While Elda focused on skewering the meat to cook, Ivar palmed the knife, tucking it under his sleeve. He couldn’t believe the foolishness of the woman. She had no idea who she was dealing with and her ignorance would be her downfall.

While she tended to the cookfire, Ivar formulated a plan. He would catch her off guard, and demand she take him back to the battlefield under threat of death. From there, he would be able to find his way back to his camp. He’d take her as a thrall. She had skills as a healer, and she was striking to look at. His brothers would be jealous of his captive.

Elda’s voice cut into his thoughts.

“Are you planning to use that knife before or after I finish cooking? I would ask that you wait until after I've eaten.”

Ivar looked up to see Elda watching him with a knowing grin. He bristled, angry at himself for being caught and for the smug look on her face.

“You could have killed me the moment my back was turned, yet you did not move from the bedroll. So you are waiting. For what I wonder?”

She stood up, brushing dirt off her knees.

“For me to come closer? You would not let me check your legs for injuries. Perhaps you are injured.” Elda watched Ivar for any reaction to her questions. His strange leg armor wasn’t anything she’d seen before.

“Well, Northman? Are you going to kill me? Steal my horse? Somehow find your way back to your men? Without running into Aldrich’s?” she asked, before holding a skewer just out of Ivar’s reach.

“Or you can eat, ride with me to my family, and have an ally in these lands?” She approached him and straddled his legs, kneeling on either side of his hips. Her thighs brushed his, as she kept her weight off him. She was so close, that he could drive the knife into her neck with ease. Fearless, he had to give it to her. This woman had more balls than most of his men.

Ivar clamped down on the irritation that was bubbling up at the gall of the woman. While he did not take orders from anyone, she had a point. This land was unknown to him and he was without the support of his men. It riled him to be exposed like this, armed only with the pilfered knife. And that self-satisfied smile. She knew she was his best option. Even if he did kill her, he wasn’t sure if he could even get on her horse, let alone ride it to find his camp. For now, it would be in his best interest to at least follow the strange woman’s lead. He could always kill her later if he so chose.

He spun the knife in his hand before tucking it into her belt. He ran his hand along her waist to her arm. His hand circled her wrist and he could feel her heartbeat through her pale skin. It was quick and that fact excited him. Yet as calm she seemed on the surface, she was still nervous. Ivar brought her hand up to his face and took a bite out of the skewered meat. The meat tore easily and juices ran down his chin.

“How far is it to your family’s land?”

#tpromptsachallenge #vikings fanfiction #ivar x oc #vikings ofc #ivar x ofc #ivar the boneless

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if-found-return-to-gusu · 3 years

Text

Talking with Nie Huaisang

Nie Huaisang.

Today we are talking about Nie Huaisang.

And for once it’s not to bitch about him.

We went out together the other day. The same day that Lan Zhan installed the new stove.

(Apparently that was not a coordinated attack but rather Lan Zhan seizing the opportunity. Apparently it’s actually really hard to get enough time apart from each other to enact secret plans that involve REMODELING YOUR FUCKING KITCHEN. Who knew?)

Anyway.

……………..

I’m gonna go through my blog at one point and find out how many times I say “Anyway”.

…

Anyway.

Nie Huaisang and I decided… well… I decided we needed to talk. He agreed and had been politely waiting for me to be ready for it. We’d spoken briefly before but it was too soon and I just…

I don’t think I was too mean, was I Huaisang? But I wasn’t nice either. He took it like a champ but I think I hurt him more than I’d meant to.

I had claimed earlier on this blog that he wasn’t being a good friend but in the end the bad friend was me. I was trying to be understanding but it was forced. And it just made things worse.

So I gave us some time. I gave me some time. And he was patient.

It’s not that we hadn’t talked in between then and now. It’s just that it was so superficial. It was… like I know that he was still talking to Lan Zhan like normal.. Or as normal as possible after me just laying into him while I was… gone. But between us… it was like we had a friend in common and so we were playing nice. It was… it was tense and… I don’t want to say fake… superficial? I don’t know.

It wasn’t...what I wanted. It wasn’t what Nie Huaisang deserved either.

And I knew the problem was me. I knew that I had latched on to someone to blame for what happened between me and Lan Zhan and he was the unfortunate victim of that. And it was lasting longer than it should have.

But at the same time… Well we agreed that he wasn’t faultless in it either. He had given some bad advice. And there was a problem with his relationship with Lan Zhan. But the thing is, that issue had been talked out between them already. Long before I went off on him. So I was yelling at him for issues that had already been addressed. Which wasn’t fair. At all.

And I knew that. But like… I don’t know. I guess I’m just an asshole.

But I called him the other day. I told him we needed to talk.

“Oh thank god,” he said. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so relieved.

I think… I don’t know.. I don’t think it ever fully registered how important our friendship was to him. I don’t know why. I guess. I just… I was someone to goof around with. Be silly with.

Like a bar friend?

But no

We were more than that.

Are more than that.

I guess… I guess I’m guilty of the same thing Lan Zhan was. Both of us assumed that the friendship was more important to us than to him.

And I don’t know if that’s because of how Nie Huaisang acts or if it’s more about how we see ourselves. Both maybe?

Nie Huaisang was from a different world. I met him at the martial arts studio with Jiang Cheng. He and Jiang Cheng are from the same world and I was a visitor. He knew that I was just a foster kid. Both of them are from rich circles. They hung with the Jins and the Lans and the other rich families. They were raised in a different world.

And even though I couldn’t remember any time before I was 10, I was still raised before I met them. I came in with my own ways of living and understanding the world and it was clear that it was different from theirs.

But they both met me in the middle. It was easy to get along with Nie Huaisang. He never asked too much from me. We would goof off and joke around. Nie Huaisang was always good to laugh with. And he was actually rather non-judgemental. Well. At least verbally. But it’s hard to take someone’s judgement seriously when it’s coming from eyes peering over a fancy decorated fan.

Friendship with Nie Huaisang was easy. But he was always a comfort. When the pomp and circumstance became too much he was there to relieve the tension. He was conveniently there at a lot of those fancy events. He was forced to dress up and attend too. It was nice to have someone there to share in the misery. And he would seek me out with some bit of gossip or a joke.

Thinking back on it… you did that on purpose, didn’t you SangSang? You knew how in over my head I was and you helped me break the surface didn’t you?

I think I just always figured I was a convenient buddy for you but it wasn’t that.

I called you my family once but I don’t think I ever expected to be a part of your family too.

That was wrong of me. That wasn’t fair of me. I know you tend to hide yourself behind your “I don’t knows’ and that fluttering fan. But…. You really are a good friend.

We met for brunch. That turned into lunch. Which we knew would happen. Which is why we went for brunch. So that we’d meet in time for lunch.

We know who we are as people. #noshame

There’s a place we used to go sometimes when we were really hungover. It was quiet and a bit out of the way and just… its nice. We haven’t gone there since… fuck we haven’t been there since before my birthday, have we? Well we were overdue I guess.

We met up and sat down in the back so we wouldn’t have to worry about people overhearing. Some semblance of privacy.

Maybe it would have been better to just do this at his place but I thought this was better. It was a place we both could leave if we had to. And it was a familiar place with warm memories. And it would keep me from getting too worked up, I thought. I didn’t want to go off on him again. That wasn’t the point.

I missed him and I missed his friendship. I wanted to fix things.

It started… awkward.

We said hi and how are you and fell into an awkward silence as we waited for someone to come take our order. I realized this was the first time since Lan Zhan’s birthday that I’d been alone with him at all.

This talk was long overdue.

I think I cut him off. He was talking about some bird or something he’d seen on the way in and I Just… blurted out a beginning.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

I think I startled him because he just blinked at me.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I’m an asshole and I know I was blowing up way too much on you. And I know I’m holding onto this way too long and… I’m just… I’m still a bit angry.. But mostly I’m sorry.”

He smiled at me. It was… I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smile like that on his face. It was soft and sad and understanding.

We talked then. We talked for a long time. We talked about why I was angry. We talked about how my yelling at him had made him feel. How it still was making him feel. How much we missed each other.

We agreed that I took things too far. But we also agreed that his actions had been a problem too.

“I never should have encouraged him to keep hiding. I was teasing but I forget sometimes how seriously he takes things. I never ever meant for it to blow up like this.”

“I know you didn’t.”

And we talked.

And in the end…

I think I talked before about pulling out a sliver. That the sliver had been inside so long that it was normal to me. That I didn’t notice it until it was time to drag it out.

This was another sliver. It hadn’t been inside so long so I wasn’t used to it yet. But that didn’t make pulling it out any less painful. But that sliver… It was on the table between us and after it was out all I felt was a warm relief.

The pain didn’t linger. But the warmth did.

I was able to smile at him again. We were able to joke again.

I’m so glad we talked.

I have NO idea how long we had been chatting but we eventually became aware that perhaps the restaurant would want its table back. We paid the bill…. Or well, I tried and Huaisang stole the bill away from me before I could.

“I caused the problem. I pay the bill. When you fuck up next then you get to pay,” he said with a wink. I was about to protest, but he kept going. “Besides…. You might be mad at me again.”

Seeing Nie Huaisang being nervous.. Like legitimately nervous… is an odd and rare thing. I think I gave him a look or something because he laughed, even more nervous.

“....whyyy?”

“Well, okay. So this.. I know we were just talking about me pushing people into plans whether they want to or not and I hear you, okay? BUT this isn’t that. This is an OPTION. So.”

“..................”

“Okay, so I HAVE still been reading your blog. And for the record, you two are disgusting now. Like absolutely disgusting. It is your right and I’m very happy for you but having known you both for so long I must inform you that oh my god. Like oh my god.”

“You’re… not really helping your case.”

“I know I know but you’re both my brothers so it’s gross.”

(Not gonna lie I may have choked up a bit at that. YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE DIDN’T YOU, HUAISANG?!?!?!)

“I’m not saying stop! You guys earned the right to be as disgusting as you want. I just wanted to put that out there.’

“Okay… so… is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh no. That’s just… Making it clear. *ahem* Anyway! My POINT is this.

“I noticed you’re worried about Lan Xichen not liking you.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“So I have asked him to meet us for some shopping.” !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Huaisa--” “BUT you don’t have to go. We talked about it before hand. He is waiting for us to meet him but he knows that you might not want to. So if you don’t want to go we don’t have to. He’s going to wait for us until about 3:30 and if we haven’t shown up by then he will go off on his own and no offense meant. And before you yell at me HE is the one who suggested it.

“He wants to talk to you but he doesn’t want to put pressure on you. He knows you’ve been through a lot lately. And he wants to talk to you too. I didn’t tell him that you think he doesn’t like you. He does like you though. And he isn’t mad I promise. But he wants to meet. So if you’re okay with it we have about 45 minutes left to meet up with him.”

So… like… does my rambling… is it contagious?

Still think nervous Huaisang is WEIRD.

In the end… Even though I really wanted to do ANYTHING BUT meet with Lan Xichen and confirm that he’s mad at me for nearly destroying his little brother and then running away to marry him in secret, I agreed.

I was expecting that we were gonna go to some fancy hoity toity shop for rich bitches considering I’ve never seen Lan Zhan or Lan Xichen in anything but super high-quality stuff that probably cost more than my studio apartment’s monthly rent.

BUT we went to the thrift store instead. Huaisang and I used to go there all the time once upon a time. We’d play a game of trying to find the worst outfits possible and making the other model it.

Which may have kicked off Nie Huaisang’s tendency to wear the weirdest things. BUT IT WASN’T FAIR BECAUSE HE ALWAYS FOUND A WAY TO MAKE IT FUCKING WORK. THAT ISN’T HOW THE GAME IS SUPPOSED TO WORK YOU LITTLE SHIT. YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO MAKE GRANDMA SWEATERS LOOK LIKE HIGH FASHION!!!!

Anyway

Thrift store. We were there.

And Lan Xichen was there just like Huaisang said he would be.

He was not difficult to spot seeing as he is super tall and very good looking. (Nothing on Lan Zhan though. No offence Xichen-ge)

Naturally all the women and lots of the men were sneaking peeks at him through the aisles.

Now I know I was trying to get him to like and forgive me. But something about being with SangSang brings out my inner goblin.

And he hadn’t seen us yet.

He was down the men’s button up aisle, kinda idly looking at a couple of different blue shirts. And he hadn’t seen us yet.

So, following SangSang’s lead, we crouched down the next aisle and snuck up to where he was. Huaisang grabbed a safety orange colored cropped tank and we squeezed through the rack.

From Lan Xichen’s point of view, all he saw was a disembodied hand (Huaisang’s) with a hideous shirt thrust suddenly into his face with a spoopy voice (mine) saying “You want to try thiiiiis ooooone”

He is too dignified of a person to yelp but he did stagger back into the rack behind him with a startled gasp.

The two of us emerged in a pile of giggles. He smiled indulgently at us and we apologized.

Well..

No, I apologized and Huaisang said “I’m not sorry.” in response to my ‘sorry’, soooo.

Well either way. Lan Xichen laughed and we climbed out of the rack.

“Did you two just arrive?” he asked, pointedly not commenting on the safety orange colored shirt that SangSang was still trying to push into his arms.

“Uh yeah. We saw you and you didn’t see us so we kinda couldn’t resist.”

He smiled again in a way that showed he was used to this kind of thing from Nie Huaisang. But it made me feel meek.

I was suddenly reminded very forcefully that I was trying to get him to forgive me for shattering his brother’s heart into a million pieces, stomping it into the ground, pouring salt on the wound, and then coming back a week later to kidnap and marry him without telling anyone about it.

And the best way to earn that forgiveness was probably not by scaring him in public.

Nie Huaisang seemed to disagree.

“Thanks for meeting us, Er-Ge!” he chirped. (Er-Ge apparently because he was with Da-Ge and so that makes him Er-Ge?)

“Of course! I was looking forward to this,” he said, turning his smile to me even though he was responding to Nie Huaisang. I gulped.

“Ah.. yeah… Me too,” I said.

Nie Huaisang being openly nervous is weird. Me being openly nervous is apparently alarming. Because Lan Xichen placed his hand on my shoulder comfortingly.

“I didn’t want to rush you, but I really did want to see you. I haven’t gotten to talk to you since… well…”

Now he looked uncomfortable.

We were silent for a tense moment and then.

“I’m sor--**CRACK!!!**”

We had both tried to apologize to each other, complete with a bow, and cracked our skulls together.

“You’re sorry??? Why on earth are you sorry?!” I asked, rubbing my forehead.

“I’m the one who… the paintings… it was my fault,” he said, rubbing his chin. “But why would you have to apologize?”

“I… well… I… I hurt Lan Zhan… and you… and then.. Well we ran off together… I figured.. .well I figured you’d be pretty upset with me.”

He laughed a bit and I felt like a fool, even though his laugh wasn’t unkind.

“So we have both been sitting here thinking the other party was angry with each other?” he asked softly, still laughing a bit. “Well then. I suppose that makes this easier.”

Nie Huaisang was smiling like a little shit. Apparently everything was going according to keikaku. (Translator’s Note; Keikaku means plan.)

“Wait you really thought I was mad at you?” I asked, disbelieving.

“Well yes. I’d caused so much tension between you and Wangji. And then you went to such lengths to avoid me. I just… well.. Assumed. Incorrectly it would seem.

“But no, I was not angry with you. You had been through a lot. I won’t say I wasn’t upset at the time but I knew things were more complicated and I knew you would normally never hurt my brother that way. Besides you two made amends and I’ve never seen him this happy before. I could never be angry at you for that.”

Okay. So it was at this point that I suddenly realized

We were standing in the men’s shirts section of the local thrift store. And people were still staring.

(Three strapping young men standing together making a scene? Of course they were staring.)

I coughed softly as I tried not to choke up again. I don’t like to cry in public thank you very much.

“Ah well.. Uh… I’m… glad?” I said with the utmost grace and eloquence. He laughed.

“For the record, I’m not mad at you either. I never was… well not really. Once the RE worked its way out at least. “

We laughed again and then got pushed together into an awkwardly squished hug by Nie Huaisang who apparently thought that was enough emotions to be getting along with.

I think I’ll still want to talk to Xichen-ge more properly at some point but it’s good to know that he really isn’t mad at me.

At this point SangSang the Shenanigans Supreme decided that now was the time to stop being weepy and sorry and talking about our feelings and instead play the age old tradition.

I tried to protest, saying that Lan Xichen would NOT want to play in the ‘pick the worst outfit’ game, but he insisted that it sounded interesting.

Huaisang shared the rules, though we changed them around a bit as there were now three of us.

Each of us would pick out the worst outfit combinations we could for the other two and then we’d try them on.

Like okay

So I would have to try on the two outfits that Xichen-ge and SangSang picked for me, which would be the worst combinations they could find in my size. And if they fit at all, like I can button it and it covers my nips and sit without blowing a seam I have to show it.

And in the end, while i can mix and match between the two outfits, I have to wear a combination out of the store and finish the day in it.

And the same goes for the other two.

Now the thing is. We were all gonna meet Da-Ge for dinner after this. So Xichen-Ge would have to meet his beloved boyfriend (HOW COULD THEY HIDE THEY WERE DATING FOR SO LONG AND NONE OF US NOTICED???????????????????) wearing whatever monstrosity SangSang and I could scrape together.

It was… Amazing. We gave each other our clothing sizes and a 30 minute time limit.

The other two went first. And… the clothing… it was indescribable.

Somehow. Lan Xichen ended up in brownish-orange corduroy bell-bottoms and a bright pink and highlighter-blue striped muscle shirt.

It… oof… there are no words.

BUT THEN

Huaisang put on like this vomit-colored patterned button down short sleeve shirt and okay I found these pants that were like… it was a gradient blue going from light at the bottom to dark at the top and covered in bacon strips? And bright pink pigs? (We were gonna give it to Lan Xichen but his legs be toooo long so they didn’t fit.)

BUT FUCK YOU SANGSANG IT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY WORK? LIKE FUCKING HOW???????????/

He walked out looking like some fucking high fashion super model. Apparently it’s all about confidence. Making it look like an intentional choice. Owning the cringe.

No I think it’s just goblin magic.

But then it was my turn.

So.. like we model the clothes as is first, how they were given by the other two and then we do the final combination of our choice.

And…

Well….

Huaisang knew that I was self-conscious about my burns because he read it on my blog. Lan Xichen… well there’s no way he could have known.

And neither of them realized how much scarring there is.

It’s light pink now and shiny and if I’m honest it’s not that bad. The burn wasn’t deep and it is fading. I’ve looked at pictures of other burn scars and well it could have been so much worse.

But I see it. I feel it. My skin is tight when I turn my arm a certain way.

He found this sleeveless metallic gold shirt with a V neck plunge so deep that it is held together barely by a stitch at the bottom seam.

The scar on my chest covers most of my pec. It stretches almost to the middle of my chest and a little more than half way down. It’s… it’s just very there.

It’s not like it’s super stark or vivid or whatever. Like it’s just… it’s there. And i know it.

And it took me a hot minute to get myself to step out of that fitting room.

Huaisang had started joking about me needing help closing the button of the pants (highlighter pink booty shorts with the pockets hanging out the bottom in a raggedy mess. Honestly, Xichen-ge I think you could have found uglier than that. Perhaps he ran out of time?)

Well… I took a deep breath and forced myself out.

I know I could have backed out. I could have explained. I could have just said it didn’t fit. I could have said anything to not have to.

But… well.. Hey we’re supposed to be healing right?

So I walked out and…

The expression on their faces was exactly the expressions I had not wanted to see.

They both paled and drew in their breath, their smiles dying as they both looked at my exposed chest.

Lan Xichen started to apologise, saying he didn’t realize that the scarring was that bad and that I could have refused, but I wasn’t having it.

In the end.

I’m actually pretty proud of myself.

His shirt is the one I picked. The shiny gold deep plunge V-neck and the iridescent windbreaker pants that SangSang picked out.

I held my head up high and bought them and wore them out with pride.

And.. well… In an outfit that loud I was gonna get stares anyway. So it kinda helped. Because it was kinda a divided attention. I know some people noticed the scar but the outfit was so much more obnoxious than some small blemish on my skin that no one but me would care about anyway.

It helped.

I’m gonna try buying more things that expose more of the burn. I don’t want to be ashamed of it. I earned those scars. I’m proud of that.

I still don’t know that I’d call myself a hero. But those scars are proof that I helped Jiao-Jie. That she’s alive because of me.

And before long the three of us were laughing again.

I never expected Lan Xichen to go along with this kind of a game but he played with us until the end.

We met Da-Ge at yet another restaurant. He’d already gotten a table and ordered drinks for us. So when we arrived in all our splendor we ended up needing quite a few napkins to mop up his spit-take.

It was amazing .

Lan Xichen even cuddled up to him, fishing for compliments on his new outfit. It was great.

We got… a lot of attention. But the staff thought we were hilarious. Three amazingly handsome men in three amazingly NOT handsome outfits and one handsome man dressed like a normal human being. It was incredible.

All too soon though it was time to go home.

And I came home prepared to surprise my darling husband with my new high-fashion aesthetic and instead HE surprised me with a whole new stove.

Because the fire scared me.

So he removed the fire.

In the long run it will be good for me to face that fear. But that is one I’m going to take slowly. I don’t want this to end up like my fear of dogs. So I’ll ease into it. But I’ll take my time.

And Lan Zhan… Oh Lan Zhan.

He saw me in that holographic nightmare of an outfit.

And had the gall to call me beautiful.

I think… I might take that as a personal challenge. Heehee.

More on that later ;) I’ll let you all know what happens.

#Nie Huaisang #wei wuxian #lan xichen #Mo dao zu shi #the untamed #Long Post #(Modern AU!)#fic

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spiteweaver · 4 years

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(Note: this story takes place in April of 2020!)

There had been no ill-effects of Clan Feldspar’s long slumber—at least, not medically speaking.

The economy was in shambles, and relations with the merchant caravans were rocky at best; having missed out on four eons’ worth of income, they were eager for someone to blame. In fact, foreign affairs as a whole had suffered, to such a degree that the Flight Representatives had been dispatched to each of their homelands for the first time since their appointment. Clan Feldspar’s less devoted allies had raised concerns regarding its stability, citing not only this most recent catastrophe, but all those prior as an excuse to call the competence of its founders into question.

Nature had begun to reclaim local farmland, so that the fields would need to be cleared before the new cycle’s harvest could be sowed and planted. Strangely, while time had all but stopped for the territories’ residents, it had almost appeared to accelerate for its flora and fauna. There were woods now where once there had been golden fields, and the undergrowth was so thick in places as to make traversing by land nearly impossible.

Three Flight Festivals—the Rockbreaker’s Ceremony, the Crystalline Gala, and the Trickmurk Circus—had been neglected entirely, sending the clan’s holy folk into a riotous panic. They had paid no tribute to their Patrons, performed none of the proper rituals, and observed not a single one of the sacred traditions. Only once Dreamweaver had assured them that preparations would be made at once to celebrate each Festival in turn did the churches reopen their doors, no longer fearing that the Eleven may smite them for doing so.

However, none of that was any of Isaiah’s concern. His focus was, as always, the well-being of his clanmates, and so he had spent the weeks since his awakening organizing and conducting a clan-wide examination. Rising stress levels aside, the results had been, mercifully, quite dull. There had been the expected complaints, of grogginess and confusion, but the loop had preserved its victims’ physical bodies almost flawlessly. They had wanted for neither food nor water for four eons; if anything, becoming accustomed to sustaining themselves again would be their greatest hurdle.

That didn’t mean he could rest on his laurels. Sickness and injury had existed before the loop, it would exist long after it, and Clan Feldspar attracted more than its fair share of both. Most pressing were the medicines that had gone bad while they had all slept soundly in their beds. He had been filling orders every day for nearly a fortnight, and still had not made more than the barest dent in a growing list. Some could only be obtained out-of-territory, others out-of-Flight, and yet others required rare or expensive ingredients that Isaiah simply didn’t have the means to obtain.

By the Eleven, what was he going to—?

A knock came at the door to his office, startling him from his thoughtful daze. He realized that he had been staring at the same prescription for far too long. It was a particularly tricky one, but it needed filling urgently. Perhaps if he could convince Goblin to do a bit of spelunking in exchange for—

The knock came again, this time more insistently. “Come in,” he snapped, “but make it quick. I don’t have time to entertain today, so you had better be here on business.”

Isaiah did not bother to look up from his work as the door creaked open and was shut, quickly but quietly, behind his visitor. If he had, they never would have gotten as near to him as they did. It wasn’t until their scent reached him, the pungent aroma of dried herbs and chemicals, that he snapped his head up, his eyes growing wide behind his spectacles.

Then he was on his feet, scrabbling for something, anything he could use to defend himself. This turned out to be a pen, but he promptly dropped it upon remembering that he was a godsdamned dragon. Before his guest could get a word in edgewise, his nails had elongated into wicked claws, and he had launched himself over his desk with uncharacteristic recklessness.

“If you think—”

“Isaiah, wait!”

“—I’m going to let you waltz in here—”

“I don’t want to fight you!”

“—and finish what you started—”

“If you would listen for once in your life!”

“—you’ve got another thing coming!”

The pair danced a jagged circle in the center of the room. Isaiah’s claws dripped with red, but the wound was superficial; his opponent hardly seemed to notice it, simply shrugging off their torn coat and tossing it aside. Presently, their doctor’s mask joined it in a heap on the floor.

“I’ve come to apologize,” Absolom said.

Isaiah scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”

Their gazes met, only for a moment, and Isaiah felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. Over seven cycles had passed since they’d seen one another, yet still nothing had changed. Absolom was as handsome as ever, his sharp, strong features seemingly untouched by time, every one of them betraying the emotions his mask had been meant to hide. Isaiah could even see the scar he’d given him when they’d parted ways. It was paler now, a fine line against a finer cheek, but his eyes were drawn to it naturally, his chest tightening with an old pain he’d thought long healed.

Then, suddenly, the glint of crimson caught their unwavering attention. His expression softened, filling with concern, and shaking the blood from his fingers, he moved around his desk to retrieve the small first aid kit he kept there. Absolom remained motionless, stiff, save to turn ever so slightly to track Isaiah’s path across the room.

“Bastard,” the doctor spat under his breath, “you absolute rotten bastard. You have no right showing up here, at my place of work, and demanding forgiveness.”

“I’m not demanding,” Absolom insisted, but his voice was weak, his gaze fixed on his feet. “I don’t expect you to forgive me; in fact, I’m not certain I want you to. I only thought that you deserved an apology.”

“So what happened?” Isaiah continued unabated. “Did your precious boss get sick of you? Toss her guard dog out on his ass? It’d serve you right.”

“I left voluntarily.”

Isaiah flinched, his shoulders hunching up into his quickly reddening ears, and was glad that he’d stooped down to rifle through his drawer when he had. If Absolom had seen him in such a state, it would only have emboldened him. Oh, he would have said something sappy, like, “I still love you,” or, “I want to start over,” and Isaiah—gods, he wanted to believe he wouldn’t fall for it, but he knew, in his heart of hearts, that some part, some naive, stupid part of him would.

Because nothing had changed—not for either of them.

“How long?”

He heard Absolom shift his weight, the groan of floorboards beneath his travel-worn boots, the softest exhale through his nose. “Since that night,” he replied at length. “She didn’t want me back after such a catastrophic failure—not that I wanted to go back. I don’t know if she would have tortured me or killed me outright, but I wasn’t interested in finding out.”

“You’ve been on the road,” Isaiah said as his head appeared over the top of his desk, “for seven cycles?!”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” said Absolom. “If I’d settled in one clan for too long, she would have tracked me down. Of course, I heard about this place—” He took a moment to examine the office in more detail, noting a distinct (and amusingly familiar) lack of personalization— “fairly early on, but when I found out you’d put down roots here, I decided it may be best for me to keep searching.”

“Smart,” Isaiah agreed, “I wouldn’t have been this soft on you if you’d showed up out of the blue back then.”

Absolom smiled, and Isaiah's heart leapt into his throat. “You shouldn’t be this soft on me now.”

“You’re a bad liar without that mask of yours,” Isaiah retorted, tossing the first aid kit to Absolom with expert precision, “so I know you aren’t bullshitting me when you say you’re sorry for the whole, you know, ‘trying to murder me’ thing.”

“I—” Absolom stared hard at the first aid kit, not daring to meet Isaiah’s gaze a second time— “I truly am. There is nothing I regret more. All of the terrible things I did, the lives I ruined, I could live with, have lived with, but what I did to you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Isaiah said with a wave of his hand, “I get it. This doesn’t make us square, Absolom. Wolf might be willing to forgive and forget, but if you want my favor, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

At this, Absolom’s pale eyes lit up, almost as if Isaiah’s words alone had turned them to molten gold. The first aid kit was abandoned in the same heap as his mask and coat, and before Isaiah could protest, he had closed the distance between them. Isaiah’s heart, previously fluttering against his tonsils, swiftly sank into the pit of his stomach. He took a step back, gripping the edge of his desk tight enough to splinter the dark wood. It was only the scent of copper, still heavy in the air, that stopped him from lashing out again.

“Then there’s a chance?” Absolom asked. He was close, too close, but had not initiated contact. Instead, he clutched the place over his own heart, as if it pained him. "I didn’t come here expecting to be forgiven, but—but you don’t know how much I’ve missed you, Isaiah.”

Don’t, Isaiah pleaded, don’t say it.

“I still love you.”

“Get out.”

Absolom blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for a response. Finally, he settled on a hoarse, stuttering, “P-pardon?”

“You heard me,” Isaiah replied, “get out. Take the kit, and get out of my office, out of my hospital. You’ve overstayed your welcome, so get out. If I see you around here again, I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth. Better yet, I’ll let the founder have their way with you. They’re a helluva lot more creative than I am.”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Absolom stammered, “I don’t understand—I thought—”

“No,” Isaiah said, “you didn’t. You never do. Get—out.”

That was the end of it. Absolom lingered a moment longer, searching Isaiah’s face for some clue, some inkling of what he’d done or said to offend him so, but found none. Perhaps in his younger years, he might have challenged Isaiah’s verdict. He was old now, though, and his chest hurt so terribly that he thought it might split. So, without another word, he donned his mask, pulled on his coat, and departed.

The first aid kit lay forgotten.

Isaiah locked the door behind him. He knew that sooner or later, he’d be hearing from Wolf, and the last thing he needed was another interruption. There was too much to be done. The clan was at a delicate juncture. As Head of Medicine, it was his duty to put the needs of his clanmates before his own selfish desires. Wolf would simply have to schedule an appointment like everyone else. Holy men did not receive special treatment—and neither did old friends.

Sighing, he reclaimed his seat behind his desk, but when he tried to recall what he’d been doing before, he found that he could think only of four words, whispered so sweetly that the mere memory of them made his stomach churn.

“I still love you.”

“Bastard,” he said again, and dropped his head into his hands, “we really haven’t changed, have we?”

#flight rising #fr #zach writes #clan feldspar #feldspar lore #c: isaiah #c: absolom #BUT ALL I EVER LEARNED FROM LOVE #WAS HOW TO SHOOT SOMEBODY WHO OUTDREW YA

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

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I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Five - Where’s the Fun in Doin’ What You’re Told?

After his comment when she was leaving the hotel, she had expected Matty to be in pretty regular contact with cheesy one-liners and attempts to win her over. But how much they spoke to each other actually seemed to mysteriously lessen. A part of her wanted to ask him about it, but the other part of her assumed that he was probably just busy finishing off the tour that he was on. Eventually, she had the feeling that she might have worked out why he was suddenly less chatty. It was heard through the grapevine that perhaps a certain band with a certain curly haired frontman were travelling back in her general direction. There were rumours that they might be booked as a last-minute additional headliner for a nation-wide festival to try and move their ticket sales. The day before the news was officially announced, Matty texted her a picture of the line-up for the festival with ‘The 1975’ haphazardly scrawled across the top of it by him.

11:16am You should work this. The line-up looks good.

11:19am I’m not sure, looks pretty meh if you ask me. That headliner is a bit overrated.

11:20am :O

She laughed lightly as his message before just telling him the truth. It surprised her that he hadn’t already heard this news from his bandmates, because it had come up the weekend prior at the party under the conversation starter of ‘things Matty doesn’t know yet’.

11:20am I’m already working it. Got asked to a little while ago.

Her phone started ringing the second after that message had been received.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked as soon as she answered the call.

“I figured you’d find out soon enough.” She answered with a shrug he couldn’t see. “You only just got home, didn’t you? When do you fly out again?” She asked.

“In two days. I won’t be at your stop on the festival tour for a little under two weeks, though.” He explained. From the background noises she could hear, it sounded like he was at a restaurant or café or something. She absent-mindedly wondered who he was out with. “You reckon you can wait that long?” He added.

“I think I’ll survive, Matty.” She replied with a laugh.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to pretend.” He continued, the teasing tone instantly finding its way into his voice.

“Oh, good to know. In which case I will definitely die a slow and painful death by next Wednesday if you don’t get here before then.” She shot back seriously.

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he began chuckling, “Well, you have to wait until next Sunday before we can hang out. Don’t die before then.” He said.

“You know that it’s proper work, yeah? I can’t just sit around with you all day.” She asked, knowing full well that festival merch was very different to headline concert merch.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

* * *

“This is boring.” Matty groaned from his spot on the floor of the merch tent where he was fiddling with her permanent marker. He’d come down to merch as soon as the band arrived on site, and had been sitting in the merch tent for nearly an hour now. She had tried her best to warn him about the difference between counting in and displaying merch for one headliner and support act compared to a festival line-up with 20 bands that all had a minimum of two shirt designs each, but he hadn’t listened. The workload was especially bad considering her brother wasn’t here, he wasn’t meant to be getting in on his flight from the previous stop on the festival track to help her until well after doors had opened. But Matty insisted on coming down anyway despite this.

“That sounds like a you problem.” She laughed as she continued counting shirts from what felt like the millionth box that she had opened. His company was nice, but it was also fairly distracting. “You could help me, you know.” She added.

“I am helping. I am providing essential company.” He answered as he reached over and pulled a slip of cardboard off the ground.

“How did you manage to swing coming back here for a national tour so soon after you just left, anyway?” She asked. It had surprised her to hear that he had been able to organise an international tour to the same country twice within as many months. It didn’t seem very viable to the band to be back in the same spot so quickly.

“We had downtime once we finished up the tour that we were on.” He shrugged. “I just suggested that we find something else to do and saw this. Put it to Jamie that we offer to be a last-minute addition to the set and he sorted it.”

“Isn’t downtime meant to be for actually having a break from this stuff?” She asked as she moved onto the next box.

“Downtime is boring.” He huffed.

“Burning the candle at both ends a bit there, Matty.”

“Death is inevitable, and I’d rather die busy than die bored.” He deadpanned. She glanced over at him, expecting him to be having some deep philosophical moment over this information. But there he was, sitting on the floor of her merch tent, scrawling a drawing of a dog on a piece of cardboard in permanent marker. “Look, it’s Allen.” He said with a grin as he held up the drawing.

As much as he felt like boredom was about to overtake him, Matty was adamant on hanging out in the merch tent for as long as he could. She had actively set him a challenge by telling him that she’d never say that she was into him. He already knew full well that at least a part of her was, even if only for superficial reasons, because she wouldn’t react to him in the ways that she did if she wasn’t. It was potentially a bit arrogant of him, but he had pretty good reason to believe that he was fairly proficient on picking up other people’s signals and being charming. So, her comment was just a red flag to a bull; to say that she’d never tell him something like that. He had been thinking on the best way to go about it, and certainly step one was to maximise the amount of time that they were actually in each other’s space. Being able to come out for the festival was something in the interim until he could come up with a more concrete idea, but he wasn’t about to waste any time that he had available. Step two was that he had to work out the right buttons to press to get her to admit that she fancied him. There was a fine line between being a sleaze and being charmingly flirtatious. He liked to think that he walked that line pretty well. But nonetheless he had to be careful that he was pressing the right buttons, and not crossing that line by pressing the wrong ones. That was going to be a meticulous process of trial and error. He watched her with mild curiosity as she worked around the tent, trying to think of half decent ways to get her attention.

“Give us your phone.” He said after a few minutes of silence.

“Why?” She asked without looking up from the numbers she was entering into her spreadsheet.

“So that I can play some tunes.” He answered.

“Just play music off your own phone?” She frowned as she glanced down at him.

“International roaming is expensive and I know that you have stuff downloaded. Please?” He asked with a sappy smile. She rolled her eyes before grabbing her phone out of her pocket and handing it to him. As soon as he opened her phone, he saw that it was still sitting on their text chain and then noticed that his number was still… just that, his number. Not his name. Not a dorky nickname. Not anything. “Hey! Why haven’t you saved my number? It’s been nearly two months since I gave you that!”

“Why are you snooping through my phone?” She asked with a slight laugh. “I know who you are, I don’t have to save it. Maybe I’m trying to value your privacy in case certain people in my life decide to search through my phone when they’re meant to be playing music.” That second part about valuing his privacy was an afterthought to cover her own laziness for not having saved his contact, but it sounded good.

“Not my fault that you had it open on our conversation history.” He mumbled under his breath, shrugging as he quickly saved his contact as a kissing emoji.

A little while passed in silence, and she was beginning to get worried that he actually was going through her phone looking for something. There wasn’t anything too incriminating on there, but if he went into the right conversations on the right apps he might find some comments she had made about him that she’d rather he didn’t know. “Are you gonna play something, or what?” She asked after about ten minutes of him scrolling, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

“In a minute, I’m just making a playlist.” He answered. Shortly after that, the beginning of Feeling This by Blink 182 filled the tent. She nodded her head in approval at his choice, having not heard the song in a while. It wasn’t until a few songs had passed that she was beginning to notice a common theme in his playlist. XO, Situations, Lying Is the Most Fun, Shake It… these were all songs blatantly about sex. Sure as anything, as soon as she realised what he was doing, Sex by The 1975 started playing. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“I am beginning to sense some underlying messages here.” She chuckled, leaning against the counter to face him.

“Hm?” He questioned, looking up at her in confusion.

“Don’t play dumb, Matty.” She said as she shook her head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. What underlying messages?” He asked innocently. As soon as she went to call him out on it, the doubt in the back of her mind set in that maybe it was just a coincidence. There were about 4,000 songs on her phone, it was possible, albeit unlikely, that maybe it was just chance. Was she just pulling a pattern together herself? Unless he just wanted her to think that it was all in her head? That sounded like something he’d do. The longer she took to answer, the worse the smirk on his face got.

Thankfully before she had to dive headfirst into that conversation, there was a noise from the other side of the tent. “You both still alive in there?” A familiar voice called as George poked his head in through the door.

“George! Hey!” She grinned as he stepped inside over Matty’s legs and pulled her in for a hug. “Good to see you.” She added as she hugged him back tightly.

“Hi, love! Hope he hasn’t been too painful?” He asked as he gestured down to their friend on the floor. She looked behind George at Matty, only to see him smiling up at her unassumingly. The music had also mysteriously stopped.

“He’s been… interesting.” She laughed. He just gave an over exaggerated wink in response.

“Well, I am here to take him off your hands.” He said as he offered a hand out to the frontman. “Doors are in thirty, Matt. Come on.” Matty grabbed his hand, standing up with a sigh. The two of them headed out of the tent, and she was glad that she might finally be able to get the last of her work done.

“Oh, wait!” She heard Matty shout as he suddenly came barrelling back into the merch tent, a wristband in hand. “Here, you need one of these.” He said as he took her left wrist in his hand and secured the all access wristband. He intentionally let his movements linger, and it didn’t go unnoticed. She just looked at him sceptically as he pulled his hands away, trying to work out what the hell he was doing. If he could work out her weak spots, he could easily use them to his advantage. He would just have to keep testing the waters until he hit the mark. “See you later!” He shouted as he ran out to catch up with George.

“What are you doing?” The drummer asked him with a tired look.

“Nothin’.” He shrugged, smiling to himself.

The half an hour until doors opened flew by in no time at all, and soon the torrent of concert goers started to flow in through the gates. Management running the festival had told her that it was sold out, and festivals were generally a much higher capacity than a regular concert, so it was anticipated to be a pretty busy day. Especially when she was working by herself for the first half of it. She hadn’t quite been able to finish all of the set up by the time that she had to start serving customers, probably in thanks to Matty, which meant that the first hour of selling shirts was also coupled with folding the remaining shirts. But time goes quickly when you’re busy, so it was not long at all before her brother suddenly appeared in the tent, and then by their powers combined the sales were through the roof. The merch tent ran like a well-oiled machine when the two of them worked together, and the more they sold the more efficient it got. It wasn’t until her phone buzzed in her pocket that she snapped out of Sales ModeTM and came back to reality. It had been nearly six hours of solid selling, and she was starting to feel the effects of standing up for so long. She was probably due for a break soon. Which, apparently Matty shared the same sentiment. Or, at least that’s who she assumed the new contact that was listed as just a winking kiss emoji was. She had to chuckle a little at his choice of contact name.

3:46pm Come hang out.

3:52pm Can’t. Have to work.

She shot back as another person stepped up to the counter. She would have to wait until it got a bit quieter before she got her chance to go grab some food.

3:53pm Just get someone else to cover.

3:59pm There isn’t anyone else to cover. I’m here to work, I can’t just dick around with you all day.

The sales continued, the sun started dipping a bit lower in the sky, the bands on stage came and went. By this point in the day the festival was in full swing, and it was slowly but surely dying down at the merch tent. The people that were lining up now were the ones who took a million years to decide, then had to message their friend to check if they should get that shirt or the other shirt, and then in the end said ‘I’ll be back later’ only to never return. As she was waiting patiently for any of them to step up and actually buy something, she heard her name being called from the back of the merch tent. She turned to see her brother on the phone to someone.

“Can you go grab a few boxes for me?” He asked with a pleading look, covering the receiver with his other hand. “Apparently there’s some back behind catering that are a part of a giveaway or something. I’ll hold down the fort here if you can go get them.” He added, before gesturing out to the few people still trying to make up their minds outside.

“Yeah, no problem.” She nodded with a smile before ducking out of the tent.

It took a few minutes and chatting to a couple of security guards to work out where exactly catering was, but eventually she found it tucked behind a few of the food vans. As she circled the pop-up tent, she realised that she wasn’t entirely sure what sort of boxes she was looking for. Were they small boxes or big boxes? Should she have brought a trolley? Were they many huge boxes full of heavy hoodies or a couple of small boxes with posters in them? Shit. Who would she get to help bring them back if she couldn’t carry them all? Maybe she’d just have to make a few trips? Suddenly, all of her questions were answered. She rolled her eyes as she saw the curly haired boy sitting on the two boxes that she assumed she was meant to grab, joint in hand and staring idly around the venue. “I really should’ve known that you’d be here.” She chuckled as she walked over to Matty. He glanced up at her in curiosity, then looked down at the boxes he was sitting on.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Are these your boxes?” He asked innocently as he stood up off of them.

“They do say ‘for merch’ on the side.” She pointed out.

“That could mean anything.” He shrugged as she picked one of them up. It was oddly light.

“Are these empty?” She asked as she picked the other up as well. As she flipped open the lid, her suspicions were confirmed. “Did you put these two boxes together?” She narrowed her eyes at him in accusation.

“How strange…” Matty hummed quietly, opting to ignore the question. “While you’re here, d’you fancy a quick drink?” He added casually.

Of course. Of course he had managed to get her out of the merch tent and here to hang out with him. She pulled her phone out with a sigh, quickly verifying what the time was. It was just past five. She had started work at nine that morning. It was probably as good a time as any to take a break. Once it began getting dark there was going to be the usual small rush of people realising that they hadn’t brought enough layers and needed to purchase more, so it only made sense to take a break now rather than later. It was just purely coincidental that she was going to take it with Matty. She flicked her brother a quick text to let him know that she was going to take her break while she was out, and also that the boxes were not for them, before slipping her phone back into her pocket.

“Only if we get food too.” She agreed, laughing a little as she watched the satisfied grin split across his face. “You sort drinks, I’ll sort food.” She added. He gave a sharp nod before looking around for somewhere he could actually get a drink from. A large part of him had expected her to say no and to just go back to work, so he hadn’t really expected to get this far. While he jogged off in search of alcohol, she made her way to the first food van she saw and placed an order; pickiness wasn’t really an option when you were hungry with limited time. And given how many people were already here at the show it was likely that all the food vans would have a decent wait time before she actually got anything to eat. As she waited for the food to be ready, she took a quick look around the festival to see if she could spot where Matty had run off to. He was at a bar across the way, chatting to the female bartender who was running the till. There was clearly a lot of flirting going on. Lots of arm touching and laughing and Matty was just leaning right over that counter to be in her personal space. It had become pretty apparent in the time that she had known him that he was just a generally flirty and charismatic guy. She had seen it a little bit at the shows, but it had been very obvious at the party the other week. Which was fine. That was just him. She could accept that. But it didn’t make it any easier to watch him be like that with other people. Not that she was jealous, being jealous would mean that she specifically wanted that attention directed towards her, which she totally didn’t, it was just- The call for her order thankfully snapped her out of her thoughts before they went down that rabbit hole of justification.

As she turned around with the food, she saw that Matty was walking back with a triumphant look on his face and two bottles in his hands.

“Free drinks!” He cheered as he handed her one of the ciders and kept on walking right past her.

“Where are you going?” She asked with a frown.

“Dressing room.” He shouted back over his shoulder. “It’ll be quieter there and I’ve got some stuff to do.” He explained, cracking open his bottle and taking a swig from it.

“Oh, so you can work, but I can’t?” She laughed as she began following him, trying to balance the food in one hand with her drink in the other.

“You only work because of me.” He answered with a smug look.

“Other bands exist besides yours. You know that, right?” She asked.

“Yeah, but they aren’t as good. My band is the best out there. So, we pretty much have a monopoly on the gig industry. We own you.” What might have started as a serious sentiment on his part quickly devolved into a joke, and as much as he tried to keep a straight face, he couldn’t help but laugh when she scoffed at what he had said.

“You wish you had a monopoly on merch. I don’t think I’d ever get anything done if you were my boss.” She chuckled as she took a sip of her drink. That didn’t sound like such a bad thing… Her words had given him an idea. But he’d have to fire off a few texts tomorrow to see if it had any possibility of working.

They finally reached the backstage area after a couple of wrong turns around all of the tents that looked exactly the same. That was the downside of outdoor festivals, everything was a temporary setup hired from the same company. So, everything was exactly the same style of tent. The two of them sat down, eating their food in silence for a little bit before Matty decided he had better start to get ready for their set. “Which do you prefer,” He said as he held up two separate outfits. “go all out with the suit, or stick to basics with the shirt and ripped jeans?” He was hoping that this question might give him a bit of insight into which look she preferred on him, but the blank look and noncommittal shrug weren’t exactly helpful.

“It’s your show.” She answered before taking another bite of her food truck dinner.

“Yeah, but…” He started, before deciding that explaining himself was going to take too long and probably detract from his aura of confidence. “Never mind.” He said with a sigh, deciding to just stick with the shirt and jeans for the sake of comfort and consistent image.

After quickly changing he came back into the green room to sort out his hair. He had been feeling like he was probably overdue for a haircut. It was at that awkward length where it was not short enough to stay out of his eyes and not long enough to properly sort it out. Gelling it back seemed like the best option for the meantime. As he was messing about with his hair, he caught her staring at him through the mirror. He combed the gel through his hair and looked back at her with an eyebrow raised. “What?” He asked after a moment.

“Why are you gelling it back?” She asked with a frown.

“I just get annoyed by how it gets in my way sometimes.” He answered, shrugging slightly.

“Hmph. Fair enough.” She did not seem happy about this information. He found that far too amusing.

“You prefer the bed head look?” He asked with a mischievous smirk spreading across his face. He could work with that information.

“It’s just-”

“No, no, I get it. It’s very close in similarity to the post-sex look so I can see the appeal.” The smirk had spread into a grin at this point as he watched her cheeks redden.

She just shook her head at him, “Why are you like this...”

“Matt, did you end up sorting-” Ross began saying as he waltzed into the room, before looking up from his phone and spotting Y/N/N sitting in there as well. “Oh, hello!” He said with a smile. “What’re you doin’ here?” He asked as he sat next to her on the couch and stole one of her chips.

“Got dragged here by him.” She answered, gesturing towards Matty who was still messing with his hair in the mirror.

He nodded in understanding. “How’s merch going?” He questioned.

“It’s going good! I think we’ve already hit the expected sales total per head, so it’s only up from here.” She said eagerly, proud to finally get to tell someone that they were doing really well today.

“Well, I hope it’s not taking too much of your energy, the boys and I were sort of hoping you’d come out for a drink with us after.” He offered as he nudged her shoulder with his own.

“Which boys were thinking that?” Matty asked instantly as he spun around from the mirror.

“Obviously the ones that aren’t you.” Ross stated. “You wanna come out for a few?” He asked again.

“Yeah! I’d love to.” She beamed. The band had been excellent company the last time that she had the pleasure of hanging out with them and she was keen for the chance to get to know them better. “I’ll be finishing later than you guys, though. Probably a couple of hours later as long as that’s okay?” She questioned hesitantly.

“It shouldn-”

“Of course, it’s fine!” Matty interrupted. The two of them glanced over at him, before continuing to chat between themselves.

Eventually, the other two members of The 1975 found their way to the green room, and it wasn’t long after that before she had to regrettably head back to work. As much as they were fun to be around, she had a job to do. They all agreed to head to a nearby bar after the show and that she would meet them there once she’d finished up her shift. She stood up from her spot on their couch, already halfway out of the room before Matty called her name.

“I’ll walk you back to the merch tent?” He offered, not really waiting for a response before getting up out of his seat and walking out with her. “Are you gonna come watch the show?” He asked offhandedly as he lit up a cigarette.

“I can see the stage from merch pretty well, so I’ll probably just stay there.” She shrugged.

“You’re not gonna come up to watch?” He questioned with a ridiculous pout on his face.

“Why? So that you can wink at me any time there’s a mildly suggestive lyric?” She shot back with a laugh. He’d been overly flirty all day today, which was saying something since the usual amount was already pretty high.

“I’m only trying to look out for you, love. I just want to make sure that you can have the best possible view when I take my shirt off during the set.” He said casually. She looked over at him, expecting a wink or suggestive expression or something, but he was just acting like he hadn’t said anything at all.

The rest of the festival went by very quickly. There were a few more customers to serve, then it wasn’t long until The 1975 went on. She couldn’t tell from where she was at merch if Matty had been telling the truth or not, but it was probably better that she wasn’t able to confirm that information. Once their set was finished it seemed that people just wanted to head out of the venue and go home. It was a nice relief to not have an after show rush, it meant that they could begin packing up earlier than expected. By the time that she finally got to the bar that they agreed to meet at, it was just after midnight. She had rushed through a couple of aspects of count out, opting to do the rest tomorrow morning so that she had more time with her friends tonight. The band were incredibly easy to spot as she walked in, namely because Matty was currently in the midst of trying to wrestle a phone away from Adam.

“Just give me the phone, Hann!” He shouted, practically climbing over the table to try and get to it.

“Only when you agree to turn the damn thing off.” He argued as he scooted back in his chair to avoid his prying hands.

“Calm down you two.” She laughed as she walked up to their table. Matty instantly stopped what he was doing, looking up at her in surprise before abruptly sitting back into his seat. As he did, Adam threw the phone over to him without saying another word. She felt like she had interrupted something.

“Good to see you. Take a seat.” George smiled, gesturing to the empty space in the booth next to him. “How was work?” He asked in an attempt to break the tension that had apparently settled around the table.

“We did really well.” She answered with a grin. “How was the show?” She asked back.

“It was also really good!” Ross chimed in as he took a sip from his beer.

“The crowd were rowdy as hell.” George agreed with a nod, before giving Matty a knowing look. His face lit up as he remembered something that had happened during their gig.

“I have the best story for you about what happened when we played Give Yourself a Try-” He began, leaning over the table eagerly as he launched into it.

The conversation flowed easily once George had worked his magic and moved everyone away from Matty’s awkwardness. Adam had taken his phone away from him when he wouldn’t stop checking it for the last hour, waiting for messages about when she was going to get to the bar. Apparently Matty had been unable to recover from the pure shock of seeing the person that he was waiting for magically appear at the table. Normally he was pretty good socially, but once he’d had a few drinks and was staring at things through rose coloured glasses, he could be a right mess. George had a feeling that Matty wasn’t going to own up to that, though. So, for his best friend’s sake, he could get everyone to forget that it had happened. The time passed quickly with the five of them having fun, and it was not long at all before glasses were running empty.

“I think I need another drink.” Matty said, motioning that he wanted to make his way out of the booth.

“Don’t stress! I’ll go get us another round.” Y/N/N offered quickly as she stood up, not wanting to bear witness to another round of her favourite game: Watching Matty Flirt with Bartenders.

As she waited at the counter, the reason that she had gotten up ended up following her anyway. He leaned on the bar, fiddling with the coasters sitting on it. “Come here often?” He asked nonchalantly. She didn’t respond at first, unsure if he was joking or legitimately asking. “Name’s Matty. I’ll buy you a drink?” He offered as he held his hand out for a handshake.

“You’re such a twat.” She laughed, shoving him lightly in the shoulder. He grinned in response, making a mental note that she had probably reacted best to his dorky jokes out of everything else that he had attempted today.

“I came up to help you carry the drinks.” He explained as the bartender brought them over. They scooted back into the booth, handing the drinks out and diving back into the conversation.

It was hard not to notice during their discussions that Matty was pretty good at being the loudest opinion at the table and was also very proficient at talking over his friends. It was especially apparent when he was enthusiastic about a topic. She could see that after two decades of being together, the other three men were just used to it at this point in their lives. George especially seemed to receive the majority of it. As the boys chatted about heading back home tomorrow, she noticed Matty’s arm making its way across the back of the booth behind her. She gave him a sceptical look as he did it, but he didn’t look away from his friend’s conversation. A part of her wondered if maybe he had jumped up to help her at the bar so that they’d have to be sitting next to each other when they came back…

Eventually after a few moments he spoke up. “Admit it.” He said in a low voice as he leant in closer to her.

“Admit what?” She asked in confusion, frowning up at him.

“That you’re into me.” He elaborated as he turned to her with a smirk. Ah. She understood why he had been acting different all day now. He was trying to con her into confessing feelings for him. Not that there was anything to confess.

“What? No.” She laughed.

“But you are.” He argued with a cocky expression, sounding far too sure of himself for comfort.

“Am not.” She maintained.

“Cut it out, kids.” George said to them without looking away from Ross. Matty wasn’t about to argue with George after he bailed him out earlier, but he wasn’t done pushing the point either. He’d need to find more time to talk to her. However, he knew that wasn’t likely to happen tonight.

By nearly two in the morning, they collectively decided that they should begin winding up their night. She had started work at nine that morning and the fifteen-hour work day was quickly catching up with her. And the band had a flight to catch the next day. The five of them stood outside the bar, watching as the last few stragglers made their way home. George, Ross and Adam all said their goodbyes, exchanging hugs and saying that they were looking forward to seeing her again at some point. They took a few polite steps away, giving Matty the chance to say bye without them hanging around to give him shit for it.

“You’re welcome to come back to the hotel.” Matty suggested with an eyebrow raised. She let out a sigh, ready to decline the offer but he continued. “For real, though, funny business aside. The hotel is closer to here than your place.” He said, his tone instantly switching from joking to serious.

“It’s okay, I’d rather get a good night’s sleep in my own bed.” She replied. “I have to finish up a few things with the stock tomorrow back at the warehouse, anyway. Thank you, though.” She added with a smile.

“It’s all right.” He nodded, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. “Was good seeing you, as always. Get home safe.” He said as he pulled her in for a tight hug. He still had that familiar smell of stage sweat clinging to him around his usual combination of weed and charity shop clothes. As soon as he moved back, she was already missing his company. Any day with him always ended up being an exceptional one and she hadn’t realised how much she missed being around him until he was back again. If she was totally honest with herself, a part of her probably was into him. But she was glad that she wouldn’t have to see him for a while and deal with that. Having feelings for someone like him would not be fun to confront. He turned and started walking back to his friends, already writing the text messages in his head that he had to send off tomorrow.

Last Chapter

Next Chapter

#Matthew Healy x Reader #Matty Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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deepphantomstarfish · 4 years

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Starting a Tumblr

I stared at the screen in dumbfound shock, realizing, lost in an abyss of wondering why, that I had been brushed off. From friendship, from life, from a girl who I thought was my friend and wanted to see me grow. My thumb hovered over the list of followers on instagram, wondering why. I thought this girl was my friend.

I’ve been on an up and down spiral these past few days locked inside my house and room, the cold whispering in spiraling snowflakes outside my window, leaving me and my family to remain in our own little bubbles once again. I’m surprised I don’t consider myself a ballerina in a snow globe by now, just waiting to be turned to the enjoyment of those around me.

I can’t remember what ‘triggered’ it, what set me off on deciding I was going to go through my instagram followers and those I was following and start trimming off any emotional baggage or weight preventing me from growing. I think I was already considering it for a long time as I’d been getting signs, thoughts, and just thinking in general about leaving instagram for a while due to the toxicity its had on my life and others as a whole. So that’s what I’ve been doing these past couple of days - considering leaving I decided before I did anything too drastic and just pulled a plug all together perhaps following a guide to reduce the amount of people I follow and following smartly might help my negativity surrounding it. But, that’s when I stumbled across something that I never expected and I wasn’t prepared for;

A girl, who I thought I was pretty good friends with, had unfollowed me and I didn’t even know when. I hadn’t even considered it a possibility that she would have, especially because I went to her birthday party just a few weeks ago and had a absolutely great time. I had even spent all day gathering her a gift, a gift I knew I would have loved, of cute trinkets such as a candle, body exfoliator, some super soft soap, and a picture frame with recently developed some pictures I took on my phone when we were still in high school. I even included more thinking that, since it was her 21st I wanted to get her a nice gift as I did with all my friends I appreciated in the past.

But I had to leave the party early, which I told her before I left why I had to leave. Maybe I should have told her before I came to her party but anyway I had to leave early. However, she seemed fine before I left.

Yet, here I am. I don’t know what led me to look under her following list. I’ve felt like a bit superficial in the past few days unfollowing anybody who doesn’t or hasn’t followed me back but if I’m going to be honest I don’t judge anyone too harshly for it. But it does feel so liberating especially considering this isn’t a new thing for me; ever since I was little... I was always the friend put second. And I’d always put up with that. I’d always taken whatever anyone would give thinking the best of everybody. I was always the one no one ever invited not because I was negative I assume... honestly I don’t know why. I never complained though because well I’m gonna be blunt... No one wants to hear the woes of a girl who has ‘it all’ on the outside, living with a/c, electricity, and a bed to comfort her. However, it has always bothered me even though it wasn’t something I could really complain about - being the second girl. The one no one really took the time to remember. Being on the outside I always wanted friends, lots of them. I just wanted what anyone else did - to be happy.

And yet, why couldn’t anybody see? Why was everyone so willing to put me second? To live as though I was fine with being forgotten?

So if I’m going to be honest, going through my social media followings in order to reduce the negativity in my life felt so liberating as the more I just thought - well why not? Let’s just reduce our platform so we don’t have to spend so much time on it, the more I felt like I was starting to put myself first. It was a feeling I... it made me happier, feel freer the more I went on. The rules were twofold- don’t go out searching like some crazed number psychopath. Just next time you get on, the first few people who pop up in your feed see if they’ve been following you, ask yourself what are they contributing to your life or if they are even in your day to day, week to week life. If they aren’t in your life and they haven’t followed you back, you don’t have to keep following them. You aren’t under any obligation, you don’t owe them a thing. Apologies if I sound so shallow and childish. This should be common sense but I guess it took me a while to learn to start taking care of myself.

Anyway, I’ve actually... been enjoying this process of growth I guess. Oh boy, does that make me a sociopath? Who knows, I don’t know. All I know is every time I stopped giving my energy to people who seemingly were on my feed, I was following out of some social obligation, out of hope they might turn around one day and say ‘hey you you’re worthy of my time and attention too! Even though I don’t follow you’, even though in the grand scheme of things this might all be baloney... I still felt. Lighter, I guess. It was so relieving.

But then when I was out last night with my family to celebrate my little sister’s birthday, and decided to text the girl I’m referring to, a girl I assumed I was friends with, if she wanted to celebrate with us at our house later, I didn’t get an answer. I was confused as I’d seen her story the past few days. I’d replied to a few of them to no response. Which wasn’t odd - I don’t blame her, we can’t all reply to people 24/7. Not to mention this is something she’s asked me before and I have always been so delighted every time she’d invite me over, I thought it was time to return the offer. But the longer I continued to check for a response, or to see the usual ‘read’ receipt on the text, the longer I began to suspect something was up.

Could she... have just ignored me? I thought.

No.

No, she wouldn't; I don’t think she’s that kind of person. She wouldn’t just get upset about something and not tell me right? She wouldn’t just drop me from our life?

The thought hit me; check her following.

No, how childish can I be right? It’s just instagram, it’s not like she’d literally drop me without telling me. It doesn’t mean anything. But if that’s the case, then... what’s the harm, right?

I went to check. Low and behold. She was following everyone in our circle but me.

Once again, sorry if this sounds so arrogant. The world isn’t only mine. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt.

No warning. No confrontation. I even gave her a card I’d taken the time to write just for her and our friendship. Not even a reply to my text. To this moment, even though it was last night I still haven’t gotten a response and I’m just going to assume I’m not going to because this girl is, whenever she’s not at work, literally on her phone 24/7 and it’s the running joke we have in our circle.

Stunned, I refreshed the page over and over again. Days of finding out who I thought was just stringing me along as a digit in their follower count, of finding out who it was that actually wanted to watch me grow, or maybe this doesn’t mean anything at all and she just doesn’t want to follow me anymore it’s possible... even though I know to her that’s unlikely - instagram means something to girls like this. And, honestly. To girls like me too. No, not the follow count. Not the superficial lies of it all.

Just the truth echoing behind the screens. And this lie was all I needed to see to understand a truth I thought didn’t extend to her -- I was excess. A photographer for her pretty lies. This surprised me because I just, I guess I thought she was better than the other girls who’d come and gone so easily in my life; from grade school to high school, I could tell the ones who reciprocated the energy I gave to them and I thought she cared about our friendship. So, if our exchanges meant so little to her when I thought we were close... if I was the second piece, not someone to support her in everything she did like I try to be in all my friendships,

I was done.

Days of realizing who treated the instagram machine like their own personal game and their actual social circle, I was done trying to pretend like this didn’t hurt me anymore. I won’t lie- this did kind of hurt.

But if she wants to show up and pretend like I didn’t notice, just know; I’m done trying to pretend like people put me second. I am worthy of having people in my life who care about me in my circle, and actually care. If anyone actually reads this, feel free to make fun of me but just know don’t pretend like instagram doesn’t mean anything to some people. I’m learning to downsize mine so it means less. But you know as well as I do there are those out there treating it like their personal wealth machine, dragging their ‘friends’ along like spare bodies to hold the camera instead of actual support systems.

So anyway. Learning to put myself first isn’t going to be easy. Especially when I've been grading myself morally for so long on putting up with others, taking whatever comes my way and going the extra mile for everyone. I still will. But now, as someone who is starting to learn how to have healthy relationships with herself and others for her own happiness, someone who is prioritizing growing in this weird time of my life, I’m going to say fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. But drop me three times, I’m going to be kind to everyone and learn to forgive, but it’s time I start taking care of myself and knowing where my happiness really is.

This Tumblr is my journey. Of life, and my career. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know where I’ll be, but if you like this is going to be my journey. In writing, trying to become a successful author hopefully or wherever my thoughts and life takes me. This is my first step in choosing how to show up for myself.

As a reminder, it’s okay to still love other people, forgive and support them. But the moment it becomes at the expense of yourself is the moment you need to take a step back. I hope whoever is reading this knows they are worthy of true happiness, no matter who they might offend. A clean and kind one. This Tumblr is my journey to a healthy life (not a professional guide. Just me, a girl trying to find her way in her own little world), a better me conducive to the mindset and future I’ve always not dreamt of, but needed. If you want to tag along, thank you. I guess the first step to learning how to enjoy life is to let go of all that no longer carries you and to just know that, it’s okay to put yourself first on the road too healing.

I’m not going to pretend like I know it all- I’m just an ordinary 20 year old girl in an odd 21st century. Who overthinks all the time, loves sea creatures and wild orca/killer whale pics, loves books and writing even though her ADDD can be hard to manage still she tries, who wants to write a book even though she has writer’s block most of the time, but is always observing. Always hoping to learn more. A girl who loves God, but has also unfortunately seen the downsides of religion. A girl who for most of her life has wanted happiness, has wanted just for once not to be second place in her own life. This blog, these are my thoughts and this is just my ordinary journey to finding out where I want to be. A place where I can be me, happy and loved in my own life. Tag along if you like!

Thank you for reading this. Even if it literally seems like the silliest most emotionally overblown post about social media (lol), thank you.

#growth #happiness #social media #healthylife

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wildernessuntothemselves · 6 years

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Oppa Knows Best | Part 1

Word Count: 6k Genre: Smut, Angst Summary: If there is anything a lot of people can agree on when it comes to college, it’s that college is about much more than just education; it’s a whole transformative experience. The person you were before college is not the same person you will be after college, and no one knows the truth of that statement quite like you do. You just didn’t expect to change so much so fast. A/N: this is like my fifth friends to lovers story and there is no sign of me stopping any time soon lmao Warnings: This story contains a very unbalanced power dynamic between the two main characters that is unhealthy and shouldn’t be tolerated irl. If someone treats you this way irl please run. This is a fictional story and the plot is basically just a vehicle for the smut. Contains slutshaming and controlling behavior. Also the dirty talk is painfully corny and pornolike so be warned lol. Oppa kink if it wasn’t obvious.

Even though you and Jaehyun were only one year apart in age, he had always babied you, to the extent that the one year you were forced to be apart for the first time since you came onto this earth—on account of him beating you to college first—you spent it lost and adrift like a puppy trying to find its way back to its owner.

Which was completely ridiculous and melodramatic since, during that year you spent apart, Jaehyun never let a day go by in which you didn’t talk to each other. He called or texted you every single day no matter how busy he got and basically kept in better contact with you than even your school friends whom you saw every day. But still, his physical presence was something else. When it came time for you to go to college, there was no question about which one you’d choose, and he didn’t even bother to ask before bringing you all the papers that you would need in order to apply to the same college he attended. He guided you every step of the way lest you make any mistake and get rejected, and before you knew it, you were under your guardian angel’s wings again. Everything was as it should be. Your world was back on track. All the pieces fell—wait, what did he say? He thinks you should get some space from him? What the fuck is he on? You had this whole thing planned ever since you were little kids, and he seemed to be fully on board with that plan up until now. Isn’t that the entire reason you were here?

“I’ve been on your back ever since you were born, but this is college, angel. You’re supposed to let loose a little and experience new things, and you can’t do that if I’m always around you like a second shadow. You’re on the same campus as me so I can still get to keep an eye on you and keep you safe. I don’t need to be your roommate too and be all up in your business all the time. You need a little space to grow and discover yourself.”

He had explained it all so eloquently, so maturely; it made you want to gag. Who the fuck said you wanted space? It sure as hell wasn’t you. The entire reason you chose this college was so you can re-suture your hip to his and never separate again. If you had wanted space, there were a million other places you could’ve gone to instead of here. His whole explanation sounded like bullcrap to you, and it was just so unlike him. Your Jaehyun, Mr. overprotective in the flesh, telling you that he should back off and let you get loose? Yeah, you’re calling bullshit on this.

It didn’t take you long to find out the real reason why he refused to room with you, and it was just so typical, you actually burst out laughing in spite of the pain when you had caught him red-handed. You see, Jaehyun has developed a curious little womanizing streak in your absence. It was both unexpected and entirely predictable. Jaehyun was a man after all, and he had spent his whole life being the exemplary good boy who every mother wished her son would be more like. The only girl he interacted with beyond some cordial, totally neutered socialization was you, and you can unfortunately testify that your relationship was nothing more than an older brother-little sister type of thing. So of course odds were that he would give in to his physical needs eventually, and they say that the more repressed you were, the more freaky the meltdown gets. To his credit, he tried to shield innocent, little you from his promiscuous ways, but alas, he was doomed to fail from the start. You just can’t hide your rendezvous when you’ve gone through half the student body already. Yup, shit sure got freaky. You wouldn’t have been nearly as crushed about this new development if it weren’t for how stupidly in love with him you are. Yes, stupid, dumb, idiotic you had to be every fucking cliché in the book and go and fall in love with your handsome, charming best friend who, of course, saw you as nothing other than a little sister. It was easy to delude yourself back home where your entire world was only a few blocks wide and Jaehyun’s sole attention was on you, but now he has dozens of beautiful women willing to warm his bed every night, and he’s burning through them like he was hell-bent on making up for the years of celibacy he had endured back home. Still you had enough sense of humor and self-awareness to laugh your ass off at the look on his face when you busted him. For a hot second, he tried to claim that the woman he was in bed with, who he didn’t even know the last name of, was his girlfriend and not the night’s flavor. You had sat there and listened to him dig himself into a progressively bigger hole until his partner finally cracked from the awkwardness and exposed his ass.

As much as you wanted to hate him for lying to you and, most importantly, for being with anyone who wasn’t you, you really couldn’t. He remained the same Jaehyun you’ve always known, always around and always there for you. He never let you down. It’s just that you now knew he wasn’t some kind of pure angel, but a grown man with needs and a very healthy sexual appetite. You could no longer continue to live in a fantasy world of your making where he was going to proclaim his love for you any minute now so you can go on and live the happily ever after you’ve been promised by every movie ever. You couldn’t even go the easy route and hate the women he slept with, call them sluts and whores and claim you’re so much better than them. Truth is, if you were in their place, you would’ve slept with him too. Who wouldn’t? He’s handsome and sweet and smart and the sun shines out of his ass. Any girl would be lucky to have him even if just for a night. You could only wish you were so lucky. But despite how so uncharacteristically rational you were about this whole thing—and you gotta admit, you were damn proud of yourself for it—it was all still so surreal, and that feeling, that weird emptiness that came to reside in your chest in place of the fanciful love that once bloomed there, couldn’t be shaken off by any number of rational arguments or self-reflection. And you didn’t know what you had to do to fill that void so it wouldn’t swallow you whole. It messed with your head sometimes, the emptiness; it told you that this was all his fault. It said that he had tricked you into wasting your life on him, that he purposefully fed into your delusion by the inordinate amount of attention and love he lavished on you. It spoke to you of how differently your life could’ve been if you had known how he felt from the start. For one, you wouldn’t have planned your whole life around him. And now you were stuck, forced to keep living in the ghost town you had built for him. So, desperate enough to take another page out of the book of clichés you so loved, you decided that since your years worth of love for him couldn’t possibly be replaced by the tepid, superficial affections that came with crushes and brand new relationships, you were just gonna have to go old school and fuck the bad feelings away. And surprisingly, it worked. For a couple of months, you attended every party on campus you could get into and refused to head home until you had someone in toe. It was awkward at first, for someone with zero experience like yourself, but you had lost the love of your life and were determined to find even a little bit of pleasure in this hell you suddenly found yourself thrown into. That determination paid off, and soon, you were floating high off your sexual awakening and all the new kinds of pleasure that came with it. Before coming to college, you never really thought about sex all that much, just the occasional guilty session where you’d rub one out to the thought of Jaehyun’s hands on you and him telling you what to do like he always did in real life. But those were few and far between and you always felt bad about it afterwards. Now it was entirely different. You reveled in your encounters. It felt good to allow yourself to feel pleasure and share it with someone who genuinely desired you. You got off on it—the effect you had on your partners. Contrary to how your dynamic was and is with Jaehyun, you were shocked to discover how much you enjoyed being the one in control every once in a while. It was much more than just sex to you, it was like discovering a whole other aspect of yourself that you never knew existed and would’ve never known about had Jaehyun not broken your heart. You were enjoying yourself and experiencing new things, just like he told you to, so it was just so fucking hilarious to see him right now, angry and pissed off at you for following the very same advice he gave you. You had noticed the building tantrum a week before it got bad enough for him to confront you about it. He always happened to be at the same parties you attended, and whenever you looked his way, he was always watching you, an ugly grimace on his face and an ominous look in his eyes that told you he was seconds away from ripping apart the person who was daring to touch you limb by limb. He was furious and visibly not in control of his emotions. Perhaps that was the reason why you could decipher another emotion in his eyes that you never saw directed at you before, desire. You didn’t know if it really was the first time he looked at you that way or if he always has but knew better to hide it, but that shit was like a drug to you, and you did everything in your power in order to fan that flame. You wore progressively more revealing clothes and acted progressively more wanton. You made sure he always had a good view of you as you put yourself in all kinds of compromising positions. All your hard efforts culminated to this—him dragging you behind him to his dorm room after he snatched you away from the arms of your dance partner, whom you were practically dry humping on the dance floor. Jaehyun flings you through the door and slams it behind him, his demeanor chilling. You’ve never seen him this angry before. You genuinely didn’t think that your guardian angel was capable of looking this menacing but somehow you managed to get him to this stage. It didn’t help that his bangs, which were normally styled down to give him a soft and fluffy look, were now sleeked back, making his features look severe and accentuating the fury in his eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? What happened to you?” “Enjoying my college life?” You hold your head high, refusing to feel belittled by him. “Weren’t you the one who told me to?” “I meant make friends and join clubs, not be the first contender for the title of campus whore!“ He shouts. You knew Jaehyun was drunk, catastrophically so, otherwise he wouldn’t dream of using that tone with you, let alone call you a whore, but it still pissed you off. You also happened to be equally as drunk as he is and fully prepared to retaliate. “Kinda hard to win that contest when you’re the reigning king. Or is it ok and cool when you fuck a different person every night but it’s dirty when I do it? I never took you to be so sexist, oppa.” “Don’t play dumb, ___. It doesn’t matter what I think of it. You could pretend we live in an ideal world all you want and that a woman and a man can be treated equally, but this is the real world, sweetheart, and it’s ugly and unfair, and it doesn’t care about those naïve ideals you have cooked up in your pretty little head.” Jaehyun gets up in your face and taps on your skull with his fingers, mocking you. “The fact is that a man can sleep around and not catch any flack for it. Hell, he might even be idolized. But a woman like you does it and the size of her tits and how tight or loose her pussy is are the talk of every guy on campus. You may be enjoying yourself now but it won’t be so fun for you when you realize that you’ve made it so all the guys here think you’re only good for being a warm wet hole for them to stick their dicks into.” You were hurt. Jaehyun has never talked to you like that before. Even during his worst moments, he always took care to choose his words carefully so he wouldn’t hurt you, but now it seemed like he wanted to hurt you. He was being vindictive and petty and nothing at all like the Jaehyun you knew, and it hurt you so bad but it also made you angry beyond belief. You weren’t stupid. You were perfectly aware of how fucked up this world is, but he’s your best friend and he’s supposed to be your slice of utopia in this world. That’s what he had always been. Even if the world was unfair, he always supported you and offered you reprise from it, not parroted the bigotry back at you and made you feel like you have to accept it. If all the guys on campus really thought that way about you then they could go fuck themselves. Anyone who adheres to that ridiculous double standard isn’t worth you wasting a single thought on them. The problem lied in the person that already meant the world to you and yet chose to treat you the same way all those fuckers did. “Do you see me as a hole to stick your dick into as well, oppa? Is that why you’re so fired up about this?” He gapes at you, scandalized. “Are you insane? Don’t talk like that.” “Why? It’s the truth. I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me lately. Your dick wants to fuck this easy pussy, but your head is all conflicted about it because I’m your innocent, little girl and you’re not supposed to be thinking that way about me.” “You must be out of your fucking mind.” He hisses, and it really amazes you how he seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. You didn’t think it was humanely possible, but here he is reaching new heights with it. It should scare you off and that is clearly his intention, but the defensive undertone to his words rung clear in your ears and piqued a dangerous blend of curiosity and self-righteousness within you that urged you to expose him for all his lies. He was standing so close to you that you only had to raise your hand in order to place it on his chest, “It’s ok, oppa. You’re a man too.” You slowly trail your hand up and down his firm torso, your ears attuned to the way his breathing got less steady with each pass of your hand over his lower stomach. “You’ve spent your whole life trying to distance yourself from the perverted and less civilized of your gender but this whole thing is forcing you to realize that you’re just like them, and all it took were showing a little bit of skin and being a little provocative for you to get off your high horse and deal with the fact that you want to wreck your little angel.” Your hand slides up to latch onto the nape of his neck, nails scratching lightly at the small hairs they find there. “You talk about other men, but it’s really you who is thinking those dirty things about me, right, oppa?” Jaehyun remains frozen and unresponsive, but you could practically feel the barely suppressed anger unfurling under his skin. “So are you going to grow a pair and do something about it or are you going to continue hiding behind your fake concerns?” A tick in his jaw is all the warning you get before he’s grabbing a hold of you and bending you over the arm of the couch. Your shout of indignation cuts off into a sharp cry when you feel his large hand smack your ass. He might as well have slapped you right on the face for the flush that instantly colors it red. But it won’t be alone for long as Jaehyun seems intent on turning your ass even redder than your face is, delivering harsh, incessant smacks to both cheeks. “You just don’t know how to shut up, do you? You think you’re too grown to listen to your oppa anymore, huh? You think this is all fun and games?” He growls. “Oppa! What are you doing?” You shriek out. You were beside yourself with humiliation. Yes, you were goading him just a second ago but you never imagined he would actually do something like this! He chuckles mirthlessly, not stopping his assault. If anything he spanks you harder. “Where did the confident, sexually forward woman go? You’re gonna act all innocent now that you’re faced with the consequences of your actions? Well that’s too bad, angel, it’s a little late for that. If you wanna go around wearing big girl panties and acting like a slut, then you’ll be treated like one.” Fuck, this was so wrong, not just because of the degrading position and the way he was speaking down to you, but because of how much it was actually turning you on. The rumble in his voice and the rough, open-handed strikes he pelts your ass with do nothing but make you squirm with arousal. As you’re stuck trying to juggle between coming to terms with the embarrassing effect he has on you and simultaneously trying to hide it from him, you get struck with a sudden epiphany. You realize now why you had always allowed him to control your life; simply, you enjoyed it. You were just blissfully unaware of how much you’d enjoy him forcing you to submit to him. “Look at this, your skirt isn’t even covering your ass properly. Such a fucking slut.” He tuts, his hand taking a reprise from spanking you to rub over your red, exposed skin. “I can fucking see your pussy from here.” To prove his point, he insinuates his hand between your thighs, his fingers easily coming into contact with said panties. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He purred, thrilled by your body’s honesty. “You like this, don’t you? You know you deserve to be punished.” Impatient, he rips the panties down your legs and hurries to put his fingers on you again, moaning in appreciation when they touch the bare, velvety skin. “See? You’re a good girl. You just needed oppa to remind you.” Hearing him praise you like that, you couldn’t help yourself; you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, causing a small dribble of arousal to come out of your hole and coat Jaehyun’s fingers. “Damn, you really are needy. Now I see why you’re sleeping around so much. You can’t help yourself. You need someone to fill you up and take care of the ache in your pussy. Do you want me to do that for you, baby girl? Do you need oppa to stuff you with his cock and make the pain go away?” You feel yourself on the verge of tears, humiliated like you’ve never been before. Jaehyun is making you sound like some kind of a sex-crazed nymphomaniac which you weren’t at all, but it was hard to argue his point when just the light touch of his fingers on your pussy and the faint whiff of his cologne that permeated the air were making you hyperventilate. Feeling embarrassed but desperate, you push your ass back onto his finger and whine, hoping he would take some pity on you and spare you the degradation of having to say it outloud. He responds to that by removing his fingers entirely to deliver two cruel smacks to your already red and sore ass, his wet fingers leaving sticky stains on your cheeks. “That’s not how we ask for something, brat.” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You wail, “It just hurts so bad!” “Where does it hurt, baby?” He coos, pretending to be concerned. He trails two fingers up and down your slit a few times before they settle against your hole, dipping inside shallowly. “Here?” “Yes! Please, oppa.” You cry out in frustration, putting all your effort into stopping yourself from pushing your ass back again to take his fingers deeper into you. He hums, pleased with your answer, and rewards you by pushing his fingers all the way inside you, the width of them stinging a bit, but it still felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced before. Guess it’s true that sex with someone you love feels intensifies everything. You were getting so close already, and you try to pull your legs together to rub them against each other, but Jaehyun places himself between them and forces them back apart, smacking your ass with his free hand then massaging where he hit when he hears you whimpering in pain. “You’ve done so well already, don’t misbehave now.” He pumps his fingers in and out of you, and your legs shake with the effort to hold yourself up and keep them spread. Jaehyun notices your distress right away,“Oh, are you close, angel?” He taunts, “Are you that needy? Or do you just want oppa so bad?” “Please, can I cum?” You deflect the question, not feeling up to the effort it would take to lie to him but also not prepared to reveal your lifelong crush on him while you were bent over the couch getting fingered by him. That’s not what your nine year old self imagined it going at all. He sighs, but lets you get away with it. “Yes, sweetheart, you can cum.” “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” You repeat like a mantra, feeling a sense of unrivaled euphoria ravage your body at how good his fingers feel inside you and how long you’ve been waiting for it. You’re boneless by the time your orgasm dies down, leaving you exhausted and vulnerable to the effects of the alcohol that was finally taking a toll on you. So when you hear the sounds of a zipper going down and a foil package getting ripped opened, you whine insolently, worried that your poor tired body might not be able to survive getting fucked by him if he continues being this rough with you. “Hush, brat.” He slaps you, this time over your sensitive pussy making you spasm in shock before falling boneless again. He gathers you in his arms and lays you on your back on the couch, pulling your thighs tight against your chest. Keeping your legs spread and heels in the air, he pushes himself inside you, grunting, “Take my cock like a good girl. This is what you wanted after all.” When he’s all the way inside you, his breath leaves him in a shaky sigh, and he takes a moment before he starts moving. But when he does, he doesn’t hold back, snapping his hips into you as hard as he had smacked your ass earlier, as if intending to make this into a punishment as well. It was certainly just as humiliating, for he pushes your top and bra up to your chin so he could leer at your breasts as they bounce up and down with every thrust while his hands keep your legs spread wide with your heels up in the air. You felt every bit the slut he was accusing you of being, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from drenching his cock in your juices, overwhelmed by a crude sense of pleasure at being manhandled and used by him, at having the man you’ve loved all your life claiming you in such a primal way. “Fuck, you’re tightening up.” He drawls, the words heavy on his tongue as he snaps his hips into you harder to overcome the resistance. Are you gonna cum again? You like my cock that much. baby?” You turn your head to the side, trying to bury your face in the cushions to hide from him, but Jaehyun doesn’t allow it. He stops his movement and tugs on your hair sharply, forcing you to face him again. He bends down so his upper body is draped over you, his face mere inches from yours. The new position has his other hand pressing your thigh harder against your chest, making it cramp, and you whimper in pain. “Oppa, it hurts.” “Say it, angel.” He lets go of your thigh and moves his hand to your lower abdomen, his thumb hovering just above your clit. “Tell oppa how much you like his cock and I’ll let you cum again.”

His gaze pierces yours, ordering more than asking you to obey him, and it’s a crime how sexy he looks even as his skin glistens and his bangs stick to his forehead with sweat. His figure looms over yours and he exudes a dominance you were no match for. You never were. So, meekly, submissively, you give him what he wants. “I like it so much.” “Like what?” His gaze doesn’t free yours as his hips pick up the pace again. It smolders, lighting your every nerve ending on a fire that is fanned by the grunts and moans that escape through his clenched teeth as he feels your walls clenching down on him. “Your cock, oppa. I like your cock so much.” You really did. His cock fills you up just right, just a little bit too big so it give you that delicious burn as it forces its way between your walls, but not too big to actually hurt you. All that sleeping around must’ve did wonders for his skills because he knew just how to move his hips, which angle to hit to make your mind go blank and submit to him. “Please let me cum on your cock.” You whine, fearing that the overwhelming pleasure might short-circuit your heart if it didn’t find a release soon. “Plea—AH, fuck, Jae, Jae!” It only takes a couple of flicks of his thumb to have you spasm around him. He fucks you through it, grunting with effort as your walls get even tighter, making it harder for him to keep fucking you, but he doesn’t stop. Your orgasm feels never ending as he drags it out in order to reach his own, stretching your nerves thin with the over stimulation. Finally, finally, his hips stutter and he give you one last brutal thrust before he groans and collapses over you. His sweaty body, his hot breaths in the crook of your neck, and his cock throbbing inside of you as he cums almost suffocate you. The heat of him around you, inside of you, is overwhelming, and you feel like you’re trapped inside a furnace. Just before you start gasping for breath, he gets off of you, taking care to not let the condom slip inside of you as he pulls it off and ties it then gets up to dispose of it. Without his body warmth, and his warm presence, your entire body erupts into goosebumps, and you quickly yearn for his suffocating heat once again. Luckily, Jaehyun’s absence doesn’t last for long. Ever the gentleman, he comes back with a wet, warm towel that he uses to clean up the mess you’ve made between your legs. When he’s done, he tosses it to the side and scoops you up in his arms, taking you to his room. He sets you down on the bed gently, taking care to avoid putting pressure on your bruised bottom. You’re like a rag doll in his hands as he strips you down and dresses you up in one of his big shirts. He then grabs some cream, and coaxing you to lie on your stomach, he massages it on your reddened bottom, kissing the top of your head softly every time you wince in pain. When he’s done with everything, he engulfs you in his arms and whispers a soft good night in your ear.

And sure it felt great to be treated so tenderly by him, that was one of the reasons you were so ready to submit to him in the first place; Jaehyun always knew how to make it worth your while. He knew how to pamper you so you’d strive to please him in order to get more of it.

On the surface of it, this looked like everything you’ve ever wanted, if only it wasn’t ruined by your knowledge that it was decidedly not. This isn’t a boyfriend caring for his lover after sharing a heated moment of intimacy. This was… well, you didn’t even know what the hell it was, and the huge question mark that hung in the air kept you from deriving any sense of enjoyment out of the situation.

You need to talk about what just happened. You needed to know what this means. Did Jaehyun like you too or was this just a sexual thing? Does he even find you sexually attractive or was he just drunk and pissed off? Is this something that could possibly happen again? Can there be something more?

You had so many questions to ask, but your eyelids were heavy and your mind was heavier, and before you knew it, it shut down on you mid-thought and plunged you into the blissful land of slumber.

“Let’s go get your stuff.”

“What?” You croak, barely having woken up yet, not to mention that some motherfucker was pounding on the inside of your skull like he was trying to break out.

Jaehyun stares at you, his eyes unnerving and entirely too sober. “You’re moving in with me. I need to keep a closer eye on you from now on. I won’t let you continue living this kind of lifestyle.”

Just like that, all sleep flew from your mind.

“What the actual fuck, Jaehyun?” You explode, “At least make a girl some breakfast before you go full chauvinist on her.”

“That’s not funny.” He deadpans, “I’m worried about you.”

“Well, you don’t need to. I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to check for monsters under my bed anymore.” You retort, incredibly annoyed that this was the direction the conversation was taking. This isn’t what you thought you’d be talking about. Dumb, little girl.

“Here we go again.” He rolls his eyes, and your cheeks flame at how condescending the gesture was. “You’re just a child who is playing at being an adult. You don’t realize the mess you’re getting yourself into. I can’t stand by and let you ruin yourself like this. I’ve taken care of you your whole life and I’m not about to stop now, even if you’re going to hate me for it.”

“I’m not your fucking doll, Jaehyun. Don’t I get to have a say in my own life? God, are you even listening to yourself?” You massage your forehead, unable to contend with both the headache and the unreasonable man. It was different when you were drunk and horny and trying to get into his pants, but now his words sounded just as ridiculous to you as they were. “If I had known you’d turn into this sexist, controlling asswipe the moment I did something you didn’t like, I would never have come here.”

He flinches at your words, looking wounded, but you can’t find it in you to feel sorry for him. He brought this on himself.

“I only want what’s best for you, angel.” He takes your hand between his own but you yank it away.

“You think slutshaming and controlling me is what’s best for me? It’s what’s best for you. You can’t handle that I’m not the virginal little girl you used to know and that I’m now a woman with an actual sex drive. You don’t like the ugly truth it’s making you confront about yourself so you want to force me to wear my old skin again so you can go on pretending you’re still the nice guy you always thought you were. You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Jaehyun.”

“You’re right. I am a hypocrite. I criticized you for the same thing I gave myself a pass for, and that’s not fair.”

“Thank you.” You mumble, finding it strange how he gave in so easily, but feeling relieved nonetheless.

“So I should stop too. I won’t fuck around anymore. I’ll clean up my act and go back to being the older brother you deserve.”

“What?” You sputter, dumbfounded. “That’s not what I’m saying. You can fuck whoever you want. I don’t care.”

Your protest was weak and you knew it. You did care, a whole fucking lot. You were accusing him of being a hypocrite, yet here you are, ready to denounce your sexual awakening in exchange for keeping him celibate as well. It just hurt so bad to see him with all those women, and it never, ever got better. So if the price of you never having to see that sight again is sacrificing your own sexual freedom then would that really be so bad? You’ve lived through that before. You’re used to it.

“I know you don’t.” He gives you a strange smile, one you’ve never seen on his face before, and yet it feels so profoundly familiar. When he takes your hand in his again, you let him. “But I care. I care about being someone you respect and look up to, and I won’t achieve that by sleeping around.”

“I would still respect you even if you slept around, oppa. It’s your choice. I don’t want to snuff out your love life.” Your words said one thing, but your body language said another. You were looking at him with big, wet eyes and a woeful face that you knew he could never resist. You were playing the role of the martyr who is willing to sacrifice her own happiness in order to make him happy, because you knew that Jaehyun would never allow that to happen.

“You’re not snuffing out my love life. I can still date.” You couldn’t keep your face from visibly falling at that, and he hurries to clarify, thinking that your problem lied in his double standards again rather than your jealousy over him being with another woman. “And you can too! I’m not against you finding a nice guy and building a long lasting and loving relationship with him. On the contrary, that would make me so happy.”

He gives you a bright smile that you mirror with your own soulless one, but he doesn’t notice your lack of enthusiasm, and continues on. “I know that sleeping around isn’t necessarily a bad thing nor does it make you a bad person, but I just want to make sure that no one is taking advantage of you and that you’re safe and with someone who deserves you. Of course, he’d have to come through me first.” He chuckles, but this time you don’t even bother giving him a reaction.

“Is that alright with you, angel?” His knuckles caress your cheek softly, and you close your eyes, leaning into his touch and resigning yourself to a life of being wrapped around his finger. “Yes, oppa.”

A/N: I’m on hiatus so I don’t have time to pour over this story as I normally would have so excuse the cheese and the cliches. Anyway feedback keeps me alive so I’d love to hear from you guys.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun college!au #jaehyun bestfriends!au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fanfics #nct smut #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfics

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crue-sixx · 5 years

Text

Hungry Like A Wolf

Title: Hungry Like A Wolf

Author: tiddly-winx

Fandom: The Dirt (Motley Crue Movie)

Summary: The reader is bitten by a big dog, but she's in for more than just an infection.

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Gore, Sickness, Smut. Animal Death, Werewolves

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It was Halloween, the band's favorite holiday. You guys went all out, decorating the apartment, making your costumes with whatever you could find and throwing them together last minute. Of course you stocked up on candy-both for you all to eat and to pass out to the kids in the building. You and your boyfriend Tommy were handing out the candy, and when the trick-or-treating hours had concluded, the real tricks would start.

Nikki had bought five dozen eggs a month ago and let them rot, planning on having you all throw the putrid stink bombs at adult passerby who happened to be roaming around. You all had it planned out-two on the left, two on the right and one sitting in a tree or on the roof. You were with Tommy on the right, Mick and Vince to the left and Nikki up high. You bombarded a few groups of teenagers who were bullying younger kids for their candy. The little bastards deserved it.

The stink exploded on impact, causing the pizza faced boys to gag and scatter. "That's what you get for bein' mean to little kids, assholes!" Nikki shouted from up top. The teenagers all cursed and vowed revenge, but you all knew it was an empty threat.

When all the eggs were spent, you kissed Tommy on the cheek and said "Go on back to our room, Babe" you said winking "I gotta go pick something up for your treat tonight" he grinned, knowing full well that he was getting a special sex session tonight.

"Why didn't you just have it delivered or pick it up earlier?" he whined, not wanting to wait for his Halloween Treat.

"Because" you eyed them all "Most of you guys like to try and ransack my drawers for my underwear" except for Mick, they all nervously laughed and glanced down. "And I didn't want the surprise to be spoiled" you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him tenderly. He of course returned the gesture with aplomb.

"Hurry back, Y/N" he said, not wanting to let you go but he had to.

"I will, Tommy" you blew him a kiss, to which he caught it and sent it back. Nikki and Vince made mock gagging gestures and Tommy laughed at that.

You were on your way to the shop that was open late tonight when you had to cross the park to make a short cut. It was like Central Park in New York, but considerably smaller. You could see your destination just on the other side when you heard a rustling in the bushes. You turned and saw a rather large dog, you didn't think anything of it and tried to go on your way, but a supernatural force pulled you back to stare into it's eyes.

Your heart rate slowed down and you entered a dreamlike state. The dog's eyes were yellow and looking at you like you were it's next meal. You were in a trance, the creature having reared up and walking on two legs like a human. You knew you should have been terrified and run off, but the power keeping you there made that impossible.

You could smell and feel it's hot steamy rank breath as it exhaled on you. It's fangs were dripping with saliva and you could see it's mouth twisting into an ugly snarl. It then howled and lunged at you, knocking you over. The sudden movement snapped you out of the trance and you screamed for help. The thing clamping down on your arms with its jaws and scratching at your belly with claws so sharp it could cut diamonds.

It would have killed you if someone hadn't blown it's brains out just as it was going in for the kill. Your neck was exposed and it was about to bleed you dry when you heard a crack of thunder and then a pink misty cloud of blood and brain matter splattered the white rose bushes, painting them a brilliant red. The shooter stepped forward, a young teen boy right after him. "What should we do about 'er Pa?" asked the boy in a nervous tone.

"Let's put 'er outta 'er misery" the older man cocked the shotgun and pointed it at you.

You had tears running down your face as you tried to speak "Please no..." when you heard more people coming your way with flashlights.

"Damn it!" the older man cursed "Grab the beast boy and hightail it outta here!" The son did as his father bade, and they left you to bleed. It wasn't long however when a group of police officers came to your aid and radioed for an ambulance.

In your blood loss induced state of delirium, you asked "Why did they paint the roses red? They're gonna lose their heads..." before you finally passed out.

Back at the apartment, they were all getting worried. They knew where the sex shop was-they all frequented it for condoms and various other sex novelties. It didn't take two hours to get there and back. Tommy was pacing around in circles cracking his knuckles."Where the fuck is she?" he felt the worry puke coming on.

"Relax" Nikki tried to reassure him "Maybe there's a long line at the check out counter or something..."

Then the phone blared. An ominous pressure filled the room as they all stared at it. When the phone rights at two in the morning, nothing good ever happens. Tommy picked it up and said "Y/N?"

"No" an unfamiliar voice answered "Is this Tommy Lee?"

"Yeah" he had to steady himself on the table. From the expression on his face, they all knew it couldn't be good. They waited in uncomfortable anticipation for more information "Who're you?"

"I am Doctor Finkle from L.A. General. Do you know a woman by the name of Y/N L/N?"

"Yeah she's my girlfriend" his voice cracked "Is she okay?"

"I cannot say exactly" the sound of papers shuffling "from the police report, it states that she was attacked by a large animal in the park and was just bought into our operating room for emergency surgery. Please get here as quick as you can..." it sounded like you didn't have much time left, and Tommy bolted for the door without even hanging up the phone or putting shoes on. The rest of the guys followed him and he filled them in on the way in the car.

When they finally got there, Tommy ran in, knocking over a nurse with a cart full of medicine. "Y/N L/N!" he wheezed, out of breath "Is she still in surgery?!"

The receptionist typed in your name and your status was stated next to it "Yes, she is. The O.R. is on the fourth floor. Please fill out a visitors-" he wouldn't let her finish, him sprinting to the elevator and pressing the buttons repeatedly. His rational mind knew that pressing the same buttons over and over again wouldn't make the damn thing go faster, but his emotional side was nervously twitching.

"Come on, damn thing..." the others caught up to him as the doors opened and he went in, repeating the previous motions of button mashing the fourth floor button.

A passing orderly was unfortunate enough to be within reaching distance of Tommy's arms. He grabbed the poor unsuspecting young man and shook him violently "Y/N L/N! Where is she?! Where's the fuckin' doctor?!"

Dr. Finkle heard the voice he had spoken to fifteen minutes ago and came out in scrubs, fresh from surgery "Mr. Lee?"

Tommy's head snapped to him and he said "Dr. Finkle?!"

"Yes, that's me. If you'll stop terrorizing my orderly I can fill you in on your lady friend's condition" Tommy let the trembling man go, offering him an apologetic look. "The consultation room is this way" he motioned with his hand to a small room that could only fit two maybe three people.

Tommy went in and sat with him while Mick, Vince and Nikki watched from the waiting room trying to read their lips. Dr, Finkle looked haggard, he had been working all day on idiotic drunkards who had gotten themselves into ridiculous situations. Most of them were minor injuries, cuts and scrapes that the patients INSISTED were broken bones. But this woman was the real deal, her blood tests showed no alcohol or any other substances in her system. She was just a poor soul in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"How is she, Doc?" Tommy's voice cracked, on the verge of tears.

"She's stable" the doctor answered. Tommy breathed a sigh of relief. "She lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stop the bleeding and replace what she lost. She'll be alright, she just needs a few days in here to recover and to make sure she didn't get any diseases of whatever animal attacked her" he took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes.

"What's the damage?" Tommy wanted to be ready for what he was going to see.

"She has extensive bite marks on her arms-most likely defensive wounds-some deep. She also has claw marks on her chest and abdomen, but those are superficial. They're not much concern at this time."

Tommy swallowed hard and asked "When can I see her?"

"In about ten minutes. She's being settled into her room right now. The anesthesia may last longer than that, but that's to be expected" he took off his glasses and added off the record "you can stay as long as you want. I recon that you'll be the first person she wants to see when she wakes up..."

"Thanks Doc" he was very appreciative and shook his hand "For taking care of my girl..."

"She's in room 509 on the recovery floor" the doctor added. She should be settled by the time you get up there" they then parted ways, Tommy grateful for the man who saved his lover's life.

The others got up when they saw him come out, the waiting game being too much for them "How is she?"

"She'll live" Tommy said flatly "Go on back to the apartment, I'll stay with her" they looked at each other uneasily and agreed.

"Do you want us to get you anything before we go?" Mick asked, being uncharacteristically empathetic.

"Nah, I'm good. I'll just have the shitty coffee and snacks to hold me over" he tried to smile, but it was very weak and unconvincing. They reluctantly left but they knew he needed alone time with his girl.

You were still in your drugged sleep when he came in. He thought he'd mentally prepared himself for what he might see, but he was wrong. Most of your upper body was bandaged up like a mummy, but your head was still visible. He let out a few whimpers before breaking down like a lost child. "Y/N...Baby..." he took your hand and held it. "I'm so sorry...I never should have let you go alone..."

You were starting to wake up then, saying "Don't beat yourself up, Tommy" he jumped, startled at your quick recovery.

"Y/N!" he was both happy and perplexed "How are you awake so soon?!"

"I heard you crying and thought I'd wake my lazy ass up and see what's going on" you smiled at him, still groggy from the drugs. He was just so happy that you were okay, that he leaned down and gave you the sweetest, softest kiss he ever did.

"I love you" he confessed through his sobs, snot dripping down his face.

"I love you too, Tommy" you reached up to try and clean his face, but you were seeing triple and couldn't tell which Tommy to wipe.

"I got it, Babe" he laughed and wiped his face.

All the tests came back negative for any animal borne diseases, and you were clear to go back to the apartment. Tommy was there by your side all the while, the guys bringing him clothes and toiletries so he could be clean. He hated being able to smell himself and it was nasty.

The guys had a small party when you came home, just the five of you and a little welcome home cake. You thanked them and had a few beers, Tommy leading you away from them to make love to you in a proper fashion. He gingerly touched your scars and kissed them, You tried to shy away from his touching them but he insisted "They're a part of you now, and I love everything about you..."

"Tommy..." you sighed a ragged breath of carnal desire. "Fuck me..."

"Don't gotta tell me twice" you were already so wet from just him touching you that he didn't need to do anything like oral or fingering. He was rock hard too, so he just slid inside easily. He let out a gasp of pleasure and commented "Oh fuck baby you're tighter than usual..."

"Well, I have been out of practice for a week" you whispered into his neck before kissing it. You then felt a strange savage second nature begin to wash over you. You smelled his blood pumping through his veins. You wanted him. His flesh. His meat. You were able to push the urge down and he continued to fuck you.

"Jesus Fuckin' Christ" he moaned into your mouth "You feel hotter too..." he grunted loudly "my dick's on fire...fuck" he had you against the wall, holding onto you tightly. You turned your ass to him.

"Do me from behind Babe" you groaned and dug your nails into the plaster. He happily obliged, liking this new angle. You could hear his balls slapping against your ass gently, serving to draw the both of you closer to your climax.

"Oh God" Tommy gasped, bucking his hips wildly "I'm gonna fuckin' cum..." you quickly pulled away from him and took him into your mouth, deep throating him as he pumped his seed down your gullet. He held your head in place, his own falling back in exhausted pleasure.

After you had swallowed his semen, you looked up at him and said "Was that hot for you baby?"

"So fuckin' hot Y/N" he was panting "I could feel your nose against my stomach..." he gulped hard "I love it when we try new stuff in the bedroom..." he picked you up and kissed you tenderly. He was spent, but you hadn't finished. You didn't care about that, you had your man with you and that's all that mattered.

The next morning, you smelled the sweet aroma of frying meat. It lulled you out of bed and into the kitchen where Tommy was making breakfast. "Mornin'!" he greeted, but you didn't answer. You smelled the raw bacon on the counter and couldn't take your eyes off it. Your mouth began to water, just the thought of tasting fresh meat driving you mad with ravenous hunger.

You scooped up the raw meat and tore into it like a wild animal, your teeth making it easier to shred than before. Tommy watched you in amazed horror, then put a hand on your shoulder to stop you from eating raw meat. You snarled at him, your eyes full of pure rage at having your meal interrupted. "The fuck you want?!" your voice wasn't just your own, but a deep throated. rolling growl. You were so pissed that he'd interrupt your meal like that! You imagined ripping out his esophagus and making his intestines your meal but you realized how fucked up that was and calmed down.

He was actually scared to respond at first but he said "Dude, you're eating raw meat...that's got bacteria in it..."

"Erm...right..." you put down the raw meat and looked down "sorry..."

He gave you a strange look, but let it go.

Things went back to normal for a few weeks, then exactly one month after the attack you fell ill. First, you were burning up and sweating buckets. Then the vomiting when you had nothing in your stomach. Everyone thought it was just the flu and they stayed clear of you, Tommy bringing you soup and some crackers.

Then your insides started burning, and the vomiting turned more violent. It was when you saw blood in the toilet that you started to panic. "Tommy! I need-" a new round of blood vomit came but this one actually hurt. It was then your skin started to itch-like tiny bugs were crawling all over the surface. You started scratching.

Tommy had heard you call for him, and when he came in the bathroom, he saw you clawing at your arms "Y/N, what the fuck?!" he grabbed a towel "You're bleeding!"

"I'm just so itchy..." you brushed him off and continued to scratch, drawing more blood from your body.

"Fuckin' stop!" Tommy grabbed both your hands to keep you from doing more damage.

"Tommy what the fuck's going on in there?!" Nikki shouted.

He didn't have time to answer, you had stood up, whipped your head back and headbutted him, breaking his nose. Nikki and Vince burst through the door when they saw the carnage. They stared speechless, Tommy knocked out on the floor and you bloody with your muscle meat on display. "T-Bone!" Nikki went to his fallen friend, and you had thrown up blood all over him.

You were then on the ground twitching. They thought you were having a seizure and Tommy was trying to help you, but then they saw your features begin to change. Your bones began to break on their own, your skin tore away from your frame, the largest organ of the body unable to contain the new growth. In it's place, coarse fur and animal skin grew. Your nose elongated into a snout, fangs protruding where your teeth once were.

Nikki and Vince didn't wait around to see what was happening next, instead grabbing Tommy and dragging him out of the apartment and hauling ass out of there. You-or whatever version of you that was followed them down the hallway on all fours. "Holy shit!" Tommy had woken up and was staring a behemoth of a dog in the face.

The thing had leapt up, ready to completely devour them all when a soft whistling was heard, then a yelp from the animal and then the thing skidded across the floor. They looked up and saw Mick with a hunting rifle, but a tranquilizer dart in the animal's thigh. "What the fuck was that?" Tommy asked.

Nikki and Vince looked at each other, unsure to what to say. They knew what they had saw and weren't on anything that would make them see that. Mick spoke up and said "That's Y/N. She's a werewolf" as easily as saying "Pass the fuckin' potatoes".

"What the fuck?" Nikki whispered.

"How do you know?" Tommy looked at Mick.

"Shut up and watch, Drummer" he said, and you started shrinking back to normal size.

"H-how is this possible?" Tommy stumbled back, his broken nose the least of his worries.

"It was on Halloween when she was attacked. A few of my buddies heard about werewolf activity in the area and decided to check it out" he pulled the dart from your thigh, you giving a small yelp of pain as he did so.

"How do you know all this shit?" Vince questioned "Werewolves and all that crap are just myths!"

Mick took a long while to respond, but when he did "There are things that go bump in the night, boys. I'm one of the ones who bump back" he grabbed you by your foot and began to drag you across the floor.

Tommy got up and shouted "Hey! Where you takin' her?!"

"To a place where she can turn and not hurt anybody" he took you down the stairs, being careful not to smack your head against them.

"You're not takin' my girl anywhere without me!" Tommy grabbed a hold of his arm, but Mick gave his signature glare and he backed off.

"You really want to be around the thing who just tried to eat you?" he asked sarcastically.

"She's not a 'thing' Mick! She's my girlfriend!"

"Get that nose looked at first, then I'll come back and take you to her. I promise..."

Tommy let him go, Nikki and Vince having been shell shocked into silence. After he got cleaned up, Tommy waited for Mick to come back, When he did, he kept his word and took him to the police station. "Mick why the fuck are we here?"

"To see Y/N" he gave an unfamiliar hand gesture to a guard and he let them in a secret passage. At the end of the passage, there was a group of fortified cells with all sorts of giant dogs in them of varying colors and ferocity. Then at the very end, they saw you in your human form, still knocked out from the drugs.

"What did you shoot her with?" Tommy asked, caressing your face.

"Wolfsbane" Mick answered "It reverses the transformation and makes them sleep it off. Too much will kill them though" he slipped a freshly dead goat into your cell, to which Tommy gagged.

"How do you know about this Mick? I mean really?"

"My family have been monster hunters for generations" he washed his hands of the blood "Going all the way back to Abraham Van Helsing and Dracula" he loaded his shotgun with a round of silver bullets and waited.

"Hey, what are you doin'?" Tommy protested.

"If she wakes up and turns again, then there's no hope for her. I'm going to put her out of her misery" he cocked the gun.

You woke up a few hours later, still your normal self. You were confused about your new surroundings. "Good! You're awake and you!" Mick smiled warmly.

"What happened?" you asked "Why am I in this dank cell?"

They had explained what happened, you not believing them until you talked to Vince and Nikki, then seeing the damage of the bathroom for yourself. You certainly didn't want to die or kill anyone, but you couldn't resist the transformation. "What do I have to do?"

"Keep track of the lunar cycle and lock yourself up in the cells when the full moon comes around" Mick answered "eat all the raw meat you can get to control the hunger."

You looked at Tommy and started to cry. "Baby what's wrong?" he hugged you close to him.

"I tried to kill you guys" you sobbed into his shirt "I can't be around normal people anymore!"

"Are you breaking up with me?" Tommy whispered quietly.

"No, but I understand if you want to break up with me..."

"Babe, the thought never crossed my mind" he pet your hair.

"You sure?"

"Of course! If I wanted to leave, I'd be gone by now!" he smiled down at you. "We just got to get used to the new you..." he grinned into a kiss. You remembered how great the sex was the last time you did it with him, and that seemed to quell the beast inside you for a moment, but you knew that at any time, your inner wolf could strike and you counted on Mick to put that silver bullet in you before you could harm anyone.

#motley crue #mötley crüe #the dirt #tommy lee #mick mars #nikki sixx #vince neil #motley crue imagine #mötley crüe imagine #tommy lee imagine #submission #not mine

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shysneeze · 6 years

Text

The Bet (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

The Bet

Summary: A bet she thought she could win until he started with the flowers... then she knew she was screwed. I hate writing summaries.

Warnings: the bet is for chocolate so a food tw most likely required,

(Author’s Note: this was edited to fit third person narritive dec 2020, sorry if you don’t like the updates but i hope you don’t mind if youre coming back to it)

(also were gonna ignore that a sunflower isnt exactly gonna fit in a notebook but their magic, okay?)

It started as joke, a sarcastic conversation whispered at the back of the library as they studied. A flippant comment said in a teasing attempt to bruise his ego after a smug ‘don’t go falling for me, (Y/L/N)’, that instead started an irreversible chain of events.

"I wouldn't fall in love with you if you were the last person on earth."

A simple comment that stayed flippant for only a second, before Draco’s eye met hers in a sort of challenge and the teasing tone of the whole conversation suddenly disintegrated right before their eyes.

"Are you sure about that?"

They’ve been friend long enough for her to match his challenging narrowed eyes with a similar gaze of her own, then with a determined nod, she replied with her answer.

"Positive."

"What about a bet?" He asked. "I bet I can make you fall in love with me by the end of the year."

"What would I get if I win?" (Y/N) quizzed. “Huh?”

"What about a whole box of those Belgium chocolates you liked?" He smirked. "And if I win, you will tutor me in Herbology next year."

The stakes are high for something seemingly as superficial as chocolate, but, convinced of her victory already, she couldn’t resist the temptation. He knows her too well, remembers how she drooled over them the year he brought them back after Christmas.

"Two boxes." She decided finally. “That’s my condition.”

"Deal."

Now, looking back it doesn’t quite seem worth it, mere chocolate for the excruciating torture that is Draco Malfoys attempts to woo her. It starts with pick up lines that she was hoping he would know better than to try on her, shamelessly and publicly.

It would be easier to celebrate the fact that his failed attempts were bringing her closer to her prize if each instance of blatant flirting didn’t add her to Pansy Parkinson’s most wanted. No meal time or study session complete without a burning glare sent her way from the Slytherin girl, which would be easier to ignore if not for the constant sour comments that come with it.

No, (Y/N) has already decided the chocolate might not be worth such a long, long year.

It’s not until halfway through term that Draco seems to catch on to why his plan is failing so spectacularly, why (Y/N) meets his pick up lines with rolled eyes and his flirting with bored laughs.

He should have figured it out sooner as her friend, realised she’s not a girl who enjoys public gestures or corny pick up lines. There is a subtler way to her heart he should have realised much sooner.

Today, the white jasmine delivered to her by owl and dropped onto her lap at breakfast changes things in their bet, and ever so slowly, her grasp on those chocolates loosens against her will.

"A beautiful flower, for a beautiful girl.

D. Malfoy."

She can’t help how her heart races when she meets his eyes to find him smiling, a kinds smile that makes her gulp. Flowers are a subject she’s spoken of before, fascinated by their meanings. He was always teasing her for it, asking why she needed to find meaning in something as silly a pretty flower, but now, he’s turning it against her.

Still, pushing down her surprise, she takes the flower delicately between her fingers with the note and subtly places it between the pages of her notebook, intending to press it. She convinces herself it has nothing to do with the boy smiling at her and their bet, that it’s only the flower she needs to keep, but even she knows its not fully true.

Her notebook begins to catalogue all the ways Draco Malfoy is screwing with her to win. Each page marked by a different flower and its accompanying note. A lavender rose for love at first sight, a sunflower for warmth, happiness and adoration, a red tulip for elegance and grace and pink orchids for rare and delicate beauty. Each flower is left for her at breakfast or before she arrives in classes, and each flusters her more than the last.

She tries to find comfort in the fact that, with every flower, Draco Malfoy becomes more of a dork for ever researching it, she can’t fault his attempts anymore.

Not when they’re working so well.

The realisation that she is, in fact, falling for her friend isn’t a startling, all-at-once, realisation, but rather a dreaded fact she slowly has to come to terms with. It’s painful though, a consequence of their silly bet she hadn’t considered until now; that losing means falling for someone who won’t love her back.

She’s protected briefly by the concept of ignoring it, pretending it doesn’t exist and playing it out until the end of the year, no longer to win, but to protect herself from rejection.

It’s a concept she’s had faith in until today at breakfast, a red rose, the unmistakable symbol of love, sat delicately on the table at her usual seat. It’s now that everything bubbles over, her determination dies out and a lump forms in her throat when she meets his eyes, lip wobbling pathetically.

His own eyes widen panickedly, but she’s already rushing from the hall, trying desperately to hide her tears long enough to make it to her dorm. But as she’s learned all to well, fate always has other ideas.

“(Y/L/N).”

She skids to a halt at the sound of her own name, turning slowly to find it’s source in the tight-lipped frown of Pansy Parkinson, sighing at the sight of her furious glare, a glare she’s become well acquainted with over the course of the bet.

"Pansy." (Y/N) sighs. “How can I help you?”

The Slytherin girl straightens herself to become taller in an attempt to seem intimidating, taking a few steps forward with folded arms until she’s face to face with (Y/N) with a nasty glower.

“You can stay away from him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Draco.” Pansy explains in a sneer. “Leave him alone.”

A laugh she’s bound to regret barrels itself out of (Y/N)’s lips, chocked by a suppressed sob that was waiting for release at the back of her throat. Pany’s face twists at the sound, somehow gaining more anger.

"Listen here, (Y/L/N)." She sneers. "I don’t know what your tragic backstory is but stop using it to get his attention. It’s desperate.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” (Y/N) admits. “You think he’s taking pity on me?”

“Why else would he be giving you flowers.” Pansy smirks. “You’re not exactly a catch.”

(Y/N) doesn’t have the energy to be insulted by the stupidity of the assumption, instead rolling her eyes and heaving out a sigh, much to Pany’s disgust.

"I think you'll find it's quite the opposite." (Y/N) explains. “He started with the flowers all by himself- and if you don’t believe me you can ask him yourself- while you’re at it you can tell him to stop, tell him that he won.”

“What?”

“Tell him he won... he’ll know what it mean.” (Y/N) repeats in a sigh. “It all got a whole lot less fun when it started to hurt.”

She bites her trembling lip and turns determinedly away from the girl. The relief of the whole thing being over doesn’t quite sink in though, instead a painful longing settles in her chest, the longing for it to continue, if only it were true.

“What are you talking about?” Pansy demands, tugging her back.

“Merlin, I’m saying he’s yours.” (Y/N) sighs loudly. “But don’t expect him to suddenly confess his undying love now that he’s done ‘feeling sorry’ for me... it’s about to time you consider the possibility that maybe he doesn’t actually like you.”

Too emotional to consider the consequences, she’s thrown off guard when Pansy shoves her away, sending her stumbling back slightly only to look back up to find the girls wand pointed at her and the outline of a jinx on her lips.

She resigns herself quickly to the fate of a pimple jinx or jelly-legs, cleanching her eyes shut in anticipation. So she can;t see Draco coming to her rescue until he’s calling her name.

"(Y/N)!"

He appears quickly putting himself between the two girls and approaching (Y/N) with a relieved look at having arrived on time. (Y/N) gives him a small, grateful, look, only panic when his hands find her waist and he’s leaning in.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Whispered so low, Pansy can’t possibly hear it, (Y/N) goes to let out a panicked ‘what?’ when he lifts one hand from her waist to cup her cheek, and pulls her lips to his before she has time to realise it’s happening. Gentle, despite the circusmtances, and cautious, its nothing like she’s found herself imaging during daydreams and longing for in her sleep over the last few week.

“W-what the-” (Y/N) stammers once he’s pulled away. “Draco?”

“Is there a reason you’re about to jinx my girlfriend, Pansy?”

A pang of disappointment goes straight to (Y/N) chest at the realisation he’s acting only to throw Pansy off, that the kiss was nothing more than a disguise, a cover story.

Pansy blinks rapidly between the pair, jaw dropping open. She stammers for a while, not sure how to start with her explanation, or her many, many questions. Then, with blushing cheeks she shakes her head violently.

“No.” She assures. “Not at all.”

She’s gone before he can berate her anymore, turning on her heels and speeding along the corridor. Draco waits until she’s truly gone before turning back to the bewildered girl whose lips he’s just kissed.

Then, all at once, she’s letting out a mortified gasp and shoving him away, sepearting himself from him by several feet. He’s quick to hold his hand in the air in surrender, though for what, he’s not sure.

“Woah.” He begins. “What’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" (Y/N) repeats in disbelief. “You can’t just- just kiss me!”

“I was saving you from Parkinson!” He defends. “Why are you so angry?”

“You can’t mess around with my feelings, then kiss me!” (Y/N) bursts. “It’s not fair!”

His eyes widen evern more at the tears that begin to slip down her cheeks and her frsutrated groan as she wipes them with her sleeves. She begins again to try and explain her anger, though every word is strangled by tears.

“I know I said yes to the- the stupid bet, but I didn’t-.” She hiccups. “You weren’t supposed to start with the flowers and make me lose.”

He tries to reach for her hands, desperate to pull her into his chest and hold her until she stops crying, but she’s pacing, and each attempt her hands it foiled by it.

“(Y/N).” He pleads. “Please, I never meant to hurt you.”

She stills, though her eyes still weep and her tear stains form a lattice on her cheeks. He reaches for her hands again, sighing gratefully when she allows him to take them.

“I’d never try to hurt you, (Y/N).”

“I know.” She sniffles sadly. “I know that... I just didn’t expect falling for you to hurt the way it did because it was all part of a stupid bed.”

“You fell for me?”

The hope in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but is dismissed as a figment of her overly hopeful imagination. She nods solemnly, dropping her eyes to the floor and waiting for his reply.

"Really?"

“The flowers got me.” She confirms. “You win.”

He’s silent for long enough for her to worry, that perhaps he’s working out how to politely turn her down, or holding back a laugh, the potential horrors are endless. Then, his hand leaves her and she’s sure he’s leaving until it his finger tips touch her chin, pulling her face gently up to meet his eyes.

"That’s a relief. “He explains.

“Merlin-”

“Let me finish.” He smiles. “It’s a relief, because it’d feel pretty terrible to have to reward my crush for not liking me.”

"What?" She exhales. “You...”

"You didn't honestly think I looked up flower symbolism just for some stupid bet?"

Her rbeath catches, she almost wants to cry again, suddenly too overwhelmed to do much else. Then she’s smiling, a laugh bubbling in her chest that escapes in soft giggles.

"I did wonder why you were being dorky."

" I can't believe you just called me dorky."

His pout causes another bout of giggles, one only silenced when he kisses her around, arms wrapping around her waist and a grin on his lips. There is no reason to pull apart this time, no glaring Pansy Parkinson to interrupt them, and neither make the move to pull away.

A simple bet turned painful, but a bet so worth it in the end. No longer will her notebook of pressed flowers and love notes make her want to cry, instead a reminder of how she fell in love, hiccups and complications and all.

“Can I still get the chocolate?”

“Merlin, (Y/N).” Draco laughs. “You can have anything you want from me.”

The next morning Draco meets her at her usual seat at breakfast, grinning at her with his hands held behind his back. She raises a curious brow as she approaches, grinning excitedly as he reveals a dainty daisy between his fingers. seat, grinning at me with his hands behind his back.

"A white daisy for true love."

She rolls her eyes, but a giddy feeling has taken her body hostage as he slides the flower carefully into her hair. It’s a feeling she suspects she’s going to get to know quite well.

"You are such a dork."

#Draco Malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #Harry Potter fics #imagines #absolute pish #draco malfoy imagines #draco imagines #tw; food

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