#need to absolutely demolish some shit i swear to god | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 1 year

Note

im so sorry for being downright annoying but im confined to my apartment since it's 40 degrees where i live and i have nothing to do :((

could you pls do like a headcannon post for your interpretations of the 141? like you said, soap plays drums, ghost prefers solitude to being mean and aggressive, gaz doesnt get caught doing the kind of shit soap gets caught for, etc. i just find your hc so damn interesting and good. AND believable!!

here's some flowers for your kindness!! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Ok! I want to make clear first that these are just my own interpretations/headcanons, for what I'm writing (although I'll try not to mention Riot much), so if someone feels I'm going off-canon, or I don't write them as they should be (whatever that means) just... meh

Ok, so... Gaz, Price, Soap, Ghost and Nikolai because certain someoneeee asked and I can't deny them anything (and he's going to appear in my fic anyway)

Under the cut because it's going to be long. Edited to add after I finished: God it's horribly long

He gives me elder brother vibes, as in, responsible, overachiever, trying to do the right thing, being the one making way so his younger sibling(s) have it easier

He is nice and respectful to everyone, specially his elders and/or superior officers, but finds it difficult to tolerate shit or incompetence. Still, he is diplomatic enough to hide it (mostly), and will make a good officer in the future, in both Price and Ghost's opinion

He loves cooking and baking, and thrives learning other culture's cuisine. Doesn't mind spicy food, and absolutely gets a laugh out of sneaking some spice in what he cooks to make his friends sweat

Both him and Soap became fast friends. Not only they're close in age, they're both nerds (Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons...) and gamers, and play together fighting games like King of Fighters in an old playstation that Price allowed them to have in the common room.

Friends as they are, they absolutely cheat and piss each other off while playing, to the point of swearing to not ever talk to the other again.

They also absolutely prank each other. Salt in their coffee, googly eyes glued to their bedside lamp (Soap had the fright of his life), toothpaste inside the pockets...

He once covered Soap's side of the office in post-its. Took almost the whole night, but Gaz is a dedicated individual

Everyone thinks he is the serious and responsible, but he is just too good to be caught doing shit. But seriously, the worst ideas come from him

(aaah look at my baby)

PRANKSTER. In capitals.

Younger brother vibes. Like, with three elder sisters. I hc that he has a quite big age gap with his sisters and, although they love each other, they were almost teens when he was a wee boy

Loyal to the bone, will get a bullet for you. Will give you shit if you get it instead covering for him

Friendly with everyone, his love language is touch, patting your back or shoulder, or if it's with a close one, a plain old bear hug. If you're certain someone who he sees as another sister, the bear hug involves swaying and lifting you up

Can't be subtle to safe his life. Can't lie either. You'll know when he's lying because he'll grin so wide that you'll see all his teeth

Learned to play the drums in his teens as a way to channel his energy. In boot camp organized a music group with other privates, Riot included, as a way of bonding and letting out steam. He likes about anything music related, but rock, pop and folk music specially

Looks awesome in a kilt and learned to play the bagpipes when he was a wee lad, but hasn't played one in years

He is way more intelligent that he himself gives credit, and can calculate in seconds the apropriate amount of explosives needed to just demolish what he wants and not a single brick more

That said, he's obsessed with blowing things up. Only things! But if they happen to have ASSHOLES inside, so be it

He is a family man, and tries to speak with his ma as often as he can, but his ma is tiring, man... Always asking when he's getting off the military, when he's settling down, when he's growing out his hair... That mohawk, my son... that's why you're single

Flirt. Like, for fun. Just because. It works either way, because if you feel flattered, he already has you reeled in. If you get angry, he knows how to push your buttons and persuade you in the correct direction. Correct for him, of course.

He can get anything you want/need. It's his specialty after all. What was that, zólotse? You need [insert whatever you imagine]?. Don't you worry, sólnyshko. You'll have it. What does he want in exchange? Only your smile

Of course, if down the line he happens to need something of you, just a little tiny thing, not really important... you'd be a dear and help him out, right?

He not only is a fixer, but he is a trader. He trades anything, information, documents, intel, weapons, vehicles, favours. He doesn't need notebooks, he has it all in his head. All the debts, paid or unpaid, all the people that owe him something, all the people he owes something, people he can convince to 'help' other people so he can kill two birds with one stone, etc etc

He has that ability that can't be learned, of being able to sway anyone his way just with his words. One look at you and he knows what he needs to say to get you on his side, or to make his bidding. Do you need praise? Threats? A pitiful plea? He sure can act the way you need him to, even if you don't know that you need it

If you are friends though, his help comes with no strings attached. Well, maybe a tiny one. Or two. But completely easy things to do. Promise

(that's like my favourite gif of Price, he's so damn hot)

He seemingly has endless patience, but only with his subordinates. He has no patience nor tolerance for idiots in the higher ranks, and has no problem speaking up against them

Everyone knows/thinks Gaz is his favourite, but in reality all of the core 141 is his favourite, he chose them after all. He trusts each and any of them with his life, and would die for them without second guesses

He knew Ghost before he was Ghost, and seeing what he became destroys him. He was the one to recommend Simon Riley for the Special team that went after Manuel Roba, so he feels responsible of everything. Simon knows and has assured him many times that he shouldn't feel bad, he couldn't have known.

If he shares a cigar it's because shit's about to go down and there's no way out or against all odds you got out and needs to be celebrated. No in between, you won't get a whiff of them ever unless he's smoking them. Except if you're Simon, he's the only one with whom he shares, and it's not unusual for them to go for drinks alone or just share a drink and a cigar in Price's office from time to time. Sometimes they don't even speak.

Acts way older than he is, he's always been an old soul. That said, the shit he has to go through every day keeping those muppets in line makes him feel like he's three hundred at least

But if someone dares to raise their voice at HIS muppets, that someone better prepare for hell to rain upon them. No one gives shit to his kids except him

He smells bullshit when he's faced with it. Nobody knows how, but he knows.

Protective, obsessive, bossy and gruff, but loyal to his last drop of blood

That's why he's 'dad' to his kids, even if they don't call him that. But all of them go to him when they have doubts, Gaz and Soap even go to him to ask for advice about this or that, or how to...? Even Simon does ask him things from time to time, and it's not unusual for them to just drop by his office for no real reason, just needing dad

Stern, taciturn, solitary, stoic. Seemingly cold, but he is only guarded. He finds it difficult to trust, even before Roba, due to his childhood.

Stiff upper lip: displays fortitude and stoicism in the face of adversity, or exercises great self-restraint in the expression of emotion

He can be aggressive and mean, it's part of the job, but he takes it with an attitude more like 'Does this need to be done? It needs to be done', and Simon mentally checks out and Ghost takes the wheel, that way he can preserve his sanity and try not to feel like the ones who made him like this... both his father and Roba

He is slow to trust, but if you manage to get through his walls, his loyalty is unwavering. For example, he'd follow Price to hell, only asking 'when are we leaving' if his Captain would ask him to.

He has a soft spot for Gaz and Soap although he doesn't show it, physically or verbally, but with little things. His love language for others, if he even knows what that is or even remembers what it was, is acts of service. Little things like buying them snacks when they run out and haven't had time to go to the store, or taking over their watch turn when he sees them nodding off.

The love language you would have to use with him would have to be maybe quality time at first, even without touching, just spending time together. Having a smoke at midnight behind the mess hall, doing paperwork together in his office or yours, watching films together in the common room. After things progress, it'll evolve into a mix of physical touch (he's so touch starved it's not even funny, and once the dam is broken you won't get rid of him easily) and words of affirmation, but mostly touch.

#cod oc #cod original character #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty original character #cod hcs #cod headcanons #call of duty hc #call of duty headcanons

37 notes · View notes

crazycookiecrumbles · 3 years

Text

A Bad Shoe

A/N: PRE Shang-Chi, so he’s going by Shaun here, just because his big murdery past has yet to be revealed.

Pairings: Shang-Chi x Stark!Reader (am I’m making a Stark!Reader-verse? no idea)

Warnings: The usual for me, lots of swears.

Summary: The first day you meet Shaun (Shang-Chi) was something out of a cheesy rom-com.

(not my gif obviously, those are effort, I, I am of little effort)

This was fine.

(Y/N) Stark, but at the moment going by your mother’s last name and trying to keep it casual as you explored the West Coast on some sort of post-Blip/post-everyone you love dying sort of sabbatical. Your journey brought you to San Francisco rather than Malibu, as, thanks to The Mandarin, that place wasn’t as enjoyable as it used to be either.

You didn’t have any work to do, really. Your work with your company was done for the day. You weren’t doing any Avenger duties, you were just free to do what you wanted, whether that was exploring Chinatown for the amazing food, riding the side of the trolley to live out your favorite opening sequences, or sitting by the Wharf and debating on stealing a sea lion, it was a free day.

For the moment, you were enjoying a nice walk trying to break in some new shoes you had just gotten. It was a sharp stilletto that you knew you were going to need down the road, and the best way, you thought, was a quick walk around the neighborhood of your hotel to break them in the quickest: with bandages, socks, and scuffing them up outdoors so you wouldn’t slip somewhere else.

The universe had other plans for you.

In all your years of living in New York City, not once did you ever get a heel stuck anywhere in the street. It was kind of a magic superpower to manage not to do that. No grate or crack was a match for you, but your first time taking these shoes on a spin in San Francisco, and you were fucked.

It startled you, and you nearly fell forward on the sidewalk because your entire leg was stuck in place. Stepping back, you realized your heel was stuck in a crack, and part of you just wanted to set the shoe on fire at that moment for being so uncooperative. You stood there trying to yank the shoe out without grabbing too much attention to yourself. But even so, even as an Avenger, you failed to see the car down the block losing control, because you just wanted to release this god damn shoe from its unholy trap.

Hearing screaming and a honking, you sighed and finally looked up. This wasn’t new to you. You heard this sort of thing just because a Yankee fan cab driver hated the group of chanting Mets fans passing his car. This time, however, the screaming was due to small sedan losing control and swerving right towards you.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled under your breath and reached down quickly to unbuckle the shoe from your ankle and make a dive for it.

You didn’t have to. Someone from your right sped towards you and tackled you out of the way of the car. You both rolled on the ground for a little while, grunting at the feeling of absolutely destroying a Pepsi can on your spine before you both came to a stop rolling into the side of a building. You huffed at the heavy individual laying on top of you, who was sparing a quick glance at the car to see two teenager stumbling out of it from the front.

When he looked down at you, your eyebrows went up and you made a mental note to take back everything you said about those shoes.

“Are you okay?” He asked you, quickly looking you over for any injuries.

You cringed, “Aside from the soda can I just demolished? My pride is destroyed. God, I hope that was a soda can. Please just be a soda can--an empty one, even.”

He smiled and stood up, pulling you along with him and confirming that it was, in fact, an empty soda can. You sighed in relief and put weight on your other leg, immediately your eyes widened as you bit your cheek and planted your hand firmly on his shoulder, which may have been the firmest thing on that entire block at the moment, including the sidewalk.

“Oh, that is not okay,” He kept you steady and glanced down at your foot, which you saw was now sans shoe, which was now firmly crushed into the sidewalk. “Sorry about that shoe, but at least your foot is still attached.”

“A definite plus,” You cleared your throat. “Thank you....uh...?”

“Shaun,” He said quickly. “It’s Shaun. Just, you know, Shaun.”

“Hi, Shaun.” You chuckled a little, “(Y/N). Thank you for the daring rescue.”

“Well, I saw a damsel in distress, I had to save the day and rescue her.”

You chuckled, “Hey, I’m a damsel. I’m in distress, I can handle it. Or I could’ve totally handled it.”

“Yeah, okay, Megara.” He teased and looked around, “Uh, where were you headed? Is it nearby?”

“My hotel, actually, is right there,” You pointed at the hotel and glanced down at your foot, “How much hepatitis can possibly be on the sidewalk if I walk it? Eh, it’s fine. I’ve walked through worse without shoes.”

“That’s a story I definitely want to hear, maybe over drinks some time,” Shaun said as he extended a hand to you.

Surprised, you stepped back a bit before grinning and taking his hand, “Forward, huh, Shaun? Really feeling that hero thing, aren’t you?”

“Well, I mean, if a hero saves the day, does he not deserve to celebrate?” He grinned. “I’m kidding. No pressure to join me or anything like that, and I’m not expecting anything in return. I’m not a hero, just happy I could help you. Your shoe, on the other hand,” He glanced down at the destroyed devil in the sideawlk, “That is a casualty.”

“It deserves it for betraying me,” You mumbled, and then you were shrieking in surprise when he picked you up, “Hey!”

“Your hotel is right across the street, and it happens to be where I work,” He said casually as he carried you along. “ I can’t just let you drag yourself across the street like that, not very heroic of me, the not-hero-hero. And about those drinks -- “

“Yeah?”

“My friend and I, she’s right over there eying that Audi with a look that screams joyride, we’re actually going out for drinks tonight, might do a little karaoke. You’re welcome to join us, if you’re up to it, or even want to.”

You stared at this pretty man with his cute little grin and twinkling eyes and couldn’t help but to want to see more of him, “Sure. Drinks are on me, as thanks.”

“You don’t have to--”

“I want to,” You said quickly as he passed a very curious Katy and walked to the hotel doors. “I got it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. Like I’ve said, I’ve had worse injuries,” you said, then quickly had to recover so questions wouldn’t be asked. “Clumsy childhood. But um, I’ll see you tonight, Shaun?”

“Yes, definitely. Uh.”

“Here,” Katy appeared by Shaun’s side, shoving a pen and napkin in your face. “Number, I’ll make sure he calls you. Sometimes he gets nervous.”

“I don’t--I don’t get nervous,” Shaun muttered defensively as you scribbled down your information.”

“Sure, sure you don’t.” Katy rolled her eyes. “Remember Rider in senior year? You nearly vomited.”

“Anyway,” Shaun said loudly, glaring at Katy who smiled happily.

“Well, thank you for saving my life, Shaun,” you smiled and handed him the paper and pen, “and I will see you tonight.”

“It’s a date,” He grinned. “A throuple date -- wait. A hangout -- uh--”

“Christ, Shaun,” Katy mumbled. “Hi, Katy. Can’t wait to officially meet you later, shoeless lady! See ya tonight,” She said to you as she steered her stuttering best friend away.

Laughing, you shook your head and limped into the hotel room. (Y/N) Stark, Avenger, victim to a bad crack in the sidewalk. But, you know what? Maybe the West Coast wasn’t going to be too bad after all.

#marvel #shang chi x you #shang chi imagines #shang chi fanfiction #shang chi x stark!reader #shang chi x avenger!reader #shang-chi x reader #shang-chi imagine #shaun #xu shang chi #avengers #fanfiction #avengers imagine #oneshot #Drabble #katy chen

693 notes · View notes

haitanic · 3 years

Text

Poly Relationship With KamiShin

I adore the idea of being in a relationship with these two, I just think it would be so good and I love them both so much. This ended up being way longer than I had planned but I could have kept going so I’ll probably write more like this.

Masterlist

SFW above the cut, NSFW below

SFW

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence? (the boys being protective of you/defending you)

This relationship would just be one big meme

You and Kaminari clowning together

You and Shinsou laughing at Kaminari’s dumbassery

Until it goes to far and you realize he’s going to hurt himself and you both frantically go “nOooO DeNKi!!!”

Pranks

These two are in a prank war and you are on both teams

So it’s basically just you messing with both of them

They’d pull pranks on you too but it would always be really little silly things, never to the extent they’d do to each other

Neither of these men sleep

Please god make them go to bed

I mean if you’re someone who also stays up all night then oh god this is just a disaster, the three of you will never sleep

If you’re someone who goes to bed at a reasonable time please drag them with you

I don’t think it would be hard to drag them to bed honestly, they’re both way to soft

Like if they were gaming together but you wanted to go to bed, they’d try to say they were going to keep gaming but the second you say please and ask them to come cuddle you the controllers are on the table and they’re crashing into bed with you (simps)

They literally can’t say no to you

With anything, literally anything you want is yours

These men adore you and want to take care of you

Truly just two men that I hc as drinking there respect juice

But it’s more than that, like more than respect, it’s adoration

I think when they get into a relationship with someone the feelings are strong, to share themselves with someone like that they’d have to love and trust them so much

They’d spoil the shit out of you, but you better do the same for them

And when I say spoil I don’t mean spend a bunch of money, just bring them little things and do cute things

Like bring Shinsou coffee and Denki snacks

Give Denki a $1 Pikachu sticker and tell him it reminds you of him

Show your love with memes, they will cry, you’re too perfect

Send Denki silly memes and go “dis u?” he’ll love you so muchand think its so cute

Send Shinsou cute, lovey, cat memes, like meme of a little kitten with a sappy message over it

They’re both definitely very teasing S/Os, like you’d all just be making fun of each other constantly but it’s with LOVE

Consensual bullying

But they’d never comment on something you’re actually insecure about, they know what’s too far and they’d never go there

(If you’re like me and someone who likes to be affectionately teasing with S/Os and friends please make sure you have boundaries established and you know what is ok to tease about and what actually hurts, communication y’all, ok back to your regularly scheduled programming)

I’m gonna be honest, y’all would eat so much takeout, neither of them can cook for shit

actually that’s a lie, Shinsou can cook, he just doesn’t want to

If you can cook and enjoy it please make them meal at least a few times a week

Please teach them healthy habits

Make them go to bed, make them go outside, force feed them veggies and water please just take care of them because they don’t know how to

I mean don’t force them. like please don’t try to change them, but express your concern about their unhealthy habits and try to help if that makes sense

Ok but they are so protective, anyone who tries to mess with you better be prepared to catch hands

They’d both be so goofy with you but if anyone tries to mess with you they are stone faced in a second and ready to rock someone's shit

You are perfect to them and they won’t let anyone say otherwise

Oh and if someone said something about the three of you being together, god help them

Actually don’t, no one help them, they deserve it, not sorry

The cuddles are IMMACULATE

The positions are always changing but it’s always so good

You in the middle either with both of their heads on your chest or facing one and being a little spoon to the other

Shinsou in the middle with both you and Kaminari resting your heads on his chest, you and Kami would be holding hands and you’d all just alternate giving each other little pecks

Kaminari in the middle facing Shinsou with you big spooning him... yes please

You all just want to make sure you’re all happy, it would be so supportive and goofy and just happiness

This relationship feels like sunshine

NSFW BELOW THE CUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+.

NSFW

Warnings: dom/sub themes, degradation and praise kinks, sadomasochism and pain kinks, vouryerism, overstim/edging, literally just fucking flithy y’all

Please note that the things I headcannon only apply if it’s something you consent to.

oof

oh god

This is gonna be nasty

But so good

I’ve seen different people say different things but my personal opinion is that Shinsou is a dom (a hard one) and Kaminari is a switch

And yes, Shinsou calls you both his kittens, you cannot change my mind, I don’t care

So there’s a few different ways I see things going

So if both you and Kaminari are feeling like bottoms then Shinsou will gladly dom you both at the same time

Shinsou definitely has a vouyer kink so he would instruct you and Kaminari on what to do to each other while he jut watched his kittens play (stop that felt so filthy to type aaaa)

Once you were both completely worn out then he’d finally step in and have his way with you both

Like I said, he is a hard dom, definitely sadistic

Honestly he’d use telling you and Denki what to do to each other as a punishment, making you overstim or edge each other till neither of you can take anymore and are begging and/or crying

Then he’d come fuck you both into the mattress

This man is going to completely and utterly demolish you (if you’re ok with that of course)

He’d be praising you both but in a way that feels so dirty, he’d degrade you both a bit with words but I think it would mostly be praise, the degrading/humiliating part is what he does to you/makes you do to each other

He’d definitely be pretty rough with both of you (always only if you consent), he’d be manhandling you guys, just throwing you around, pulling hair, choking, a little slapping if you’re up for it (I definitely think Denki is just saying)

But don’t get me wrong, he also knows how to take care of his kittens

Like he can be so soft and giving with you as well, when the situation calls for soft sex this man will give you that and he will give it so good

Just the most gentle, loving praises and soft holds and eye contact and love

Ok, next situation Shinsou and Kaminari both wanting to dom you

ok wait cause there’s actually two ways that could go, if Kaminari is feeling switchy but leaning towards dom then it would be kinda similar to the first situation, with Shinsou telling him what to do to you but he’d just be more dom with it himself and he’d still let Shinsou dom him a bit but not full on, like they’re both domming you but Shinsou takes the lead

Ok but if Kaminari is feeling full dom then god help you

I hope you have the day of tomorrow

Because Kaminari as a dom is also one sadistic mother fucker

I absolutely headcannon Kaminari as being hard and sadistic when he’s domming (I mean he’s a little fucking masochist when hes a bottom)

But yeah if it’s something you’re ok with then these men are going to destroy you

I really can’t stress how ruthless they are when they’re domming together

You’re going to get whiplash from these two because one of them is degrading the shit out of you while the other is telling you the kindest praise

“Look at you, such a filthy little whore for us to use”, “You’re so beautiful, doing so good for us baby”

But you never know which ones going to say what and they’re constantly switching roles

Yeah you’re about to get your shit rocked, there’s no other way to say it

Honestly you’re going to be barely conscious by the time they’re finally done

Alright, last variation is you and Shinsou domming Kaminari

Pretty similar to when he’s domming you with Kaminari but y’all switch places

Just demolishing little subby baby Denki

I talk about how much of a little subby baby he is in my nsfw hcs for him

As much of a sadist as he is when he’s domming completely switches to masochism when he’s a sub

He will cry and beg and he loves it, he will literally beg you two to hurt him like a whiny little boy

Baby just wants to be completely destroyed and fucked out

Gee, can you tell I’m a switch

Regardless of how it goes down the sex would honestly be so good because both of them are very giving partners

I mean don’t get me wrong, they’re gonna tease the shit out of you, but they’re both very focused on making sure all three of you feel amazing

The aftercare, oh god the aftercare

Always so cute and sweet

Doesn’t matter who topped and bottomed

Cuddles and words of affirmation for all of you, just all three of you giving and getting love

If any of you are in subspace or roughed up or out of it or whatever then whoever isn’t will give you everything you need whether that's a hot drink or a nice bath or some lotion or whatever

You all just take such good care of each other because this is a relationship built on mutual love, adoration, and respect

This got a little out of hand, much longer than I thought it was going to be, my bad.

#shinkami #kamishin #shinsou x reader x kaminari #shinsou smut #shinsou hcs #shinsou imagine #kaminari smut #kaminari hcs #kaminari imagine #poly bnha #bnha hcs #bnha smut

720 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years

Text

care less, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, implied taehyung x reader

summary: There are countless partings in this world. People come in and out of your life, impacts large and small. But there is one where you could care less. You really could. And that’s Min Yoongi, your high school ex-boyfriend, the one who took something from you and promptly disappeared, only to come back with a furious declaration, on the night you’re supposed to teach Kim Taehyung how to eat pussy.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, discussions about adult topics; mentions of slut shaming; reader is pansexual; rough angsty smut (fem reader, slight dom/sub themes, m-receiving oral, overstimulation, hair-pulling, cowgirl); regrets everywhere; non-idol!AU; exes-to-lovers; pianist, softsub!Yoongi

inspired by “I get mad when I see you, and even madder when I don't”, wet-haired Yoongi in Run BTS! 131, ONEWE’s song ‘소행성 (Parting)’, and you’re probably wondering how these things go together.

–

"How do you eat a girl out?"

"I... what?"

"How," Kim Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable with his impossibly deep voice. "Do you eat a girl out?"

"Why are you asking me?"

Taehyung raised his eyebrows. "Because you've hooked up with tons of girls. You must have eaten out at least one of them." You blinked at him as he continued. "I figure you have a unique perspective because you're a girl whose probably been eaten out and whose eaten out other girls."

You put down your spicy chicken. "Is this why you offered to buy me lunch?"

Taehyung's giant brown eyes shifted around uncomfortably. "Look," he said in a hushed tone. "I took this girl on a nice date and then it got to the spicy bit–"

"Leading her on, yes, yes, continue."

Taehyung narrowed his eyes at you but ignored your comment, barreling on. "And she asked me to eat her out, but I didn't know what I was doing."

"An absolute tragedy for sex god Kim Taehyung," you mocked. He growled and threw one of his chicken bones in your direction as you laughed.

"Oi, this is serious!"

You kept cracking up, taking a bite of spicy crispy meat. "Yes, seriously funny." He kept glaring at you, so you relented a little. "She didn't ask for the dick like everyone else?"

Taehyung pouted. "Well, she did, after I spent twenty minutes doing what she called, basically nothing," he scowled.

You shrugged. "Then you redeemed yourself, so what's the problem?"

Taehyung crouched over the table, stabbing your plastic tray. "The problem is, she's gonna tell other girls I can't eat pussy."

"Nah, she won't," you chewed, relishing the spiciness of the chicken. "She'll be too busy daydreaming about your giant dick."

Taehyung frowned, obviously not believing you. You casually are another piece of chicken, watching him contemplating. He was wearing cream slacks and a beige sweater, casually handsome with his dark brown hair, long enough to curl around his eyebrows. His fried chicken was already demolished into bones. He always got his not spicy.

You never understood that.

"Why didn't you ask me to eat you out?"

You shrugged. "We were only hooking up. I wanted to sit on your dick like everyone else."

"Teach me."

Your fingers were turning bright red with the crispy breading on the meat. You could feel the tingle of the spice on your puffy lips and throat, a measured fire burning. You didn’t bother to reach for your drink. Better to lull in the fire for a bit.

"Taehyung, it's just practice."

"Then let me practice on you."

You sucked out a bit of chicken from your teeth as you gave him a disbelieving look. "Thought your policy was to never fuck twice?"

He shrugged. "Not technically a fuck? Besides, you're the Sex Teacher," he added with a snicker.

You rolled your eyes. "Ugh, don't call me that. Some dudes started calling me that just because I took some guy's virginity."

"You've probably taken several virginities with your track record."

"Speak for yourself."

"Do you or do you not know how to eat a girl out?" Taehyung asked, brown eyes boring into you.

You picked up the toothpick the restaurant had provided you and stuck it between your teeth. Brushed the crumbs off your flannel dress and picked up your tray, standing up.

"'Course I do."

Thus, you were now in your apartment with Kim Taehyung, several days later, wondering why you agreed to this nonsense.

"Do I just whip off your pants or what?"

You rolled your eyes, keeping a firm grip on your gray sweatpants. He had arrived in a long black coat and brown turtleneck, black billowy slacks. Kicked his shoes off and presented you with said question.

"What do I get out of this?" you grumbled, turning around and heading into your apartment, shivering a little because of your loose white t-shirt that you had cut in half ages ago, turning it into a crop top. It had a stain at the bottom, so what better way to fix it than chop it off? Still, you should have opened the front door with your hoodie on, but it would warm up soon with the door now closed.

"What do you what? Money?"

"I'm not a prostitute, Taehyung," you muttered. "Even if you think I am."

"I don't," Taehyung said coolly. "But money happens to buy things, so maybe you want some to buy something for yourself."

You pursed your lips, grabbing your mint thermos of warm water. It was a bit weird, but you preferred warm water over most drinks, except soda. But you couldn't be binging on soda all day, unfortunately, so you tried not to buy it and stuck with the water. Kept you from getting diabetes. Damn you, weak human body!

"Nice nips."

You raised an eyebrow as you took a sip. You weren't wearing a bra. Your hard nipples were poking through the t-shirt thanks to the cold.

"Are they distracting your fragile mind?"

Taehyung smiled, dark curls around his teasing brown eyes. "No, I'm simply appreciating them. A lot."

You looked down. Taehyung opened his coat. You sucked in the side of your lip, seeing his bulge. Maybe he was too chill with you now. Ever since you two realized your sex partners overlapped, a strange friendship developed. You’d talk about it casually with him, as if you two were discussing Pokémon trading cards instead of one-night stands. He would advise you against so-and-so and you would warn him about who-the-fuck-ever. Of course, you two only figured that out after you sat on his dick, but, hey, it was a nice dick. Lived up to the hype.

Unlike Taehyung, you didn't really have any weird rules when it came to hooking up. You went with the flow, and if you were feeling it, then you did it. Didn't really matter who it was, what gender, if they wanted to be upside down on a park bench as you sucked their balls and they jacked off into their own face (happened once, was kind of interesting to be honest). Taehyung, however, had some kind of conquest thing going on, numbers and all that, and needed everyone to know he was good at it. Insanely good. Mind-blowingly good.

Taehyung closed his coat, tilting his head. "Whatchu want then? Not another fuck. Something else."

Your doorbell rang.

"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you muttered, slamming your thermos down and marching to the door. "What is this, a fucking zoo, I swear–"

You wrenched the door open.

"Fuck you."

Slightly slurred, husky, deep.

Okay, well, yeah, sure, after I teach Taehyung how to–

The black head of hair raised and your thought disintegrated into pure shock.

"I get mad when I see you," the man growled. "And even madder when I don't."

He was holding a half-full bottle of soju.

"I... what?" was your incredibly weak reply, because you were staring at the hunched form of Min Yoongi. Black hair longer than the last time you saw him, styled over a clean undercut, wearing a torn-up black bomber jacket and a green t-shirt, acid-wash jeans with giant holes, revealing his pink, slightly bruised knees. He was breathing hard, glaring at you.

Accusing you.

Suddenly the years without him felt like an eternity.

"Hyung?!"

Oh right. Taehyung existed.

But you couldn't react, couldn't breathe, starstruck, awestruck, dumbstruck at seeing Min Yoongi at your doorstep. Yoongi cocked at eyebrow, looking past you, and Taehyung's body was suddenly pressed against your back, reminding you, yes, he was real, actually there, why was he there again? What was life?

"Hyung, holy shit! I haven't seen you in ages, since..." Taehyung's voice suddenly died, baritone vanishing into nothing.

"Why the fuck is he here?" Yoongi grunted.

"I... was going to ask her to–"

"He was leaving," you interrupted, shoving Taehyung from behind you to in front of you. "Taking his coat and leaving."

"What?" Taehyung sputtered, brown eyes wide, confused, blinking rapidly. "Hyung, why do you have a bottle of soju–"

Yoongi clicked his tongue, very loudly.

"Forget this."

He turned, but Taehyung grabbed his arm.

Not you.

Taehyung stopped Yoongi.

The world was so cold. Your arm outstretched but touching nothing, because Taehyung was faster, Taehyung was closer, and you were so very far away from Min Yoongi. Yoongi turned his head slowly, venom in his gaze.

"Hyung."

Yoongi's eyes locked with yours, making you breathless.

"I don't understand," Taehyung said quietly. "What's going on? I thought you didn't care about her."

Those cat-like eyes narrowed, expression cold and emotionless. "Is that what you told them?"

It was airless and then the world burst into flames.

"You didn't tell me until the last day," you hissed, curling your hands into fists, voice rising. "You told all your friends, but you didn't tell me until the last day, not until the very last second before you flew to fucking Europe to go to university for that fucking music program!"

Taehyung's eyes widened. "Y-You said she didn't care..."

"Fuck you, Min Yoongi," you snarled, every muscle in your arms tensing, remembering all the moments, the gentleness that turned to coldness, the last night and what he took from you, turning into years and years of not caring about anything, fucking everything in sight, anyone who said yes, trying to forget his kiss and his memory before he got on a fucking plane and flew time zones away, never trying to contact you after.

"Fuck you for thinking you can be angry at me for any reason at all, fuck you for thinking I did anything, fucking anything, to deserve that shit, taking my fucking virginity and leaving me!"

"I didn't take your virginity," Yoongi spat back, spinning around, hair bristling. "You lost it to that–"

"Maybe you should have fucking asked me instead of believing stupid fucking rumors!"

The human body was useless, but also driven by emotion, and you didn't even feel cold anymore, years of anger piled up, rumors that you were a whore, so you became that whore, owning it, doing it all, because why did it fucking matter when everyone already thought that? Sex Teacher they called you and your first teacher was standing in front of you, completely clueless.

Fucking idiot.

Yoongi glared at you. You glared back.

Taehyung stood there, gawking.

Yoongi's eyes dropped. He shoved the half-empty bottle of soju into Taehyung's arms and pushed Taehyung aside, Taehyung flailing to prevent dropping the glass bottle, and closed the distance between you and him, and now you could see, older, more tired, still handsome, still the same dreamer from years ago who traced your fingers and placed them on the keys, slowly helping you play the notes even though you didn’t know jack shit, and you enthralled with his smile, his laugh, his dream of becoming a world-renowned pianist.

Yoongi grabbed your face and kissed you.

The first was the scent of alcohol, a subtle sweetness on his lips, but alcohol nonetheless. The second was the softness, the faint flush of his cheeks paired with his lips on yours, dainty despite the strength in grip on your cheeks. The third.

Heat.

The years-old iceberg of 'I-don't-give-a-shit' melting faster than the polar ice caps, sheets and sheets of ice crashing into the sea of emotions, youth and stubbornness combined, melted in his kiss, you grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him in your apartment, Taehyung calling after you both.

"Um, guys? Hello?"

"Go drinking Taehyung," Yoongi growled and slammed the door.

Taehyung held the half-bottle of soju.

What now?

What about his reputation?

He frowned.

Maybe he should call up Park Jimin.

Taehyung took a sip of the soju as he walked away. He made a disgusted face. Ugh. Why did hyung like such strong shit? The flavor was unique and rich, but his throat felt like a layer of skin was being sloughed off.

One would only drink something like this if they were depressed.

Oh.

"Your reputation precedes you."

"Fuck off."

"You became quite a woman."

"And you're still an insensitive shit."

You yanked his jacket off and dumped it on the floor, fists back in his green shirt, biting his lip, kissing him hard, him gasping in your mouth, his hands on your breasts, kneading them through the t-shirt, fingertips brushing over your hard nipples, sparks of pleasure crackling through you.

"I was trying to protect you," Yoongi snarled, just as angry as you, both frustrated at time lost, both knowing it was for the best, both realizing that his misunderstanding and your reaction was just shitty communication of stubborn youth and time past that couldn't reset.

But still.

Anger doesn't care about reason.

"Protect me, my ass," you scowled, dragging him into your kitchen, pinning him against the counter. "What do you think I am, emotional fragility queen?"

"You wouldn't have cared?" he shot back, gripping your shirt and flinging it up, sucking in a breath as he revealed your tits.

"Obviously! Why would I spend years being a slut to forget about your stupid hands?" you scowled, grabbing his wrists, planting said hands on your breasts, shuddering at the cold touch, chilled by night air, not exactly the same hands as back then, but better, rougher, strength of a man and not a high school boy, thumb and index finger rolling your hard nipples. Once again, fistfuls of his shirt, shaking him aggressively through heavy breaths. "You and your stupid mouth."

Kissing him, not the same, but better, stronger, more intense, stained with alcohol and regrets, devouring your tongue hungrily, intertwining.

"It would have ended the same," Yoongi murmured, the hurt creeping in his grating voice.

It would have.

And that was the shittest bit.

Knowing that even if he told you earlier that it would hurt no less, knowing that you would have gone and fucked other people anyway, because even if you tried to make it long distance, it wouldn't have worked. Some people could do it, but not young you and young Yoongi, too immature to know the meaning of wait.

"Still gives you no right to believe the words of others instead of asking me outright," you muttered, bending him backwards on the counter with your weight and he was letting you do it, hands still glued to your tits. "Why would believe that shit?"

"Because it was easier to leave you that way," Yoongi admitted, shame flitting in his dark eyes.

"Fucking shit, you're an idiot."

You already knew that. Guessed, after years of agonizing over it. Easier to be angry than understanding. Easier to feel pain than to acknowledge it. What could you do? Tell him not to go to Europe? Not when his parents, his family, his friends, his neighbors, fuck, the whole damn school was ecstatic and congratulatory for him, everyone except you, not because you didn’t want Yoongi to follow his dreams, but because you wanted him to stay.

With you.

Selfishly.

And so, it was so much easier to be mad, so much easier for the two of you to fight until he tumbled on top of you, kissing you, tearing off your clothes as you tore off his and the first time hurt, it hurt but not as much as you thought, maybe because there was so much adrenaline from the anger and because he was so careful and loving about it.

He really was.

And there was pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain you felt the next day and the day after, and the next month, years, numbing everything, agreeing to really stupid propositions like the thing with Taehyung, all because you knew and he knew, but you both chose to be mad over being reasonable.

You hauled Yoongi up onto your kitchen counter, him kicking the side of the cabinets to lift himself up, not speaking. One look in his eyes and you saw yourself reflected in them, so close to tears that you kept your mouth shut and he kept his shut, preferring the anger to the sadness.

Because deep down, you were so, so happy to see Yoongi again.

It didn’t discount any of the wrongs though.

You fumbled with the button of his jeans and his hands came to help, unzipping, fingertips tracing over yours, more agile than before, swifter than an amateur. You raised your head, locking your gaze with his.

Yoongi was panting, cheeks flushed, guilt consuming his features.

It stung.

You yanked his pants down unceremoniously, not caring right now about stupid young you and stupid young Yoongi, gripping his underwear and dragging them down, his hard cock springing up, bigger than you remembered, thicker, red tip twitching, still wanting it just as bad, not looking at his face and closing your mouth in on it, gripping his hips and pulling him closer for better leverage. His scent and moan encompassed you, your eyes shutting as your tongue circled around his hot length, swallowing it up, oh so good, so good, better than anyone else’s because it was the one you tried to forget, entranced by the way Yoongi’s cock slid down your throat and filled your mouth, hearing his ecstasy from your touch, gasps of pleasure as you began to bob your head up and down, tongue going from the bottom of the head, down the quivering veins, all the way to the base, nudging his balls with the tip of your tongue, a skill you learned from many, many blowjobs.

You opened your eyes and you knew your guilt was in them. Yoongi could see it with every mouthful of his cock disappearing into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and pupils dilated, empathizing.

“Yeah, so what if we’ve fucked other people?” he grunted, rolling his hips into your face and making you growl in your chest. “I could care less.”

Yeah, you could, and me too.

Faster and tighter, suffocating him with your mouth, hands flat on the counter, blowing him at the same spot you were eating a fucking salad two hours ago before Taehyung’s arrival and contemplating tongue techniques, back when your iceberg of uncaring was still intact but now it was part of the ocean of emotions once more, watching Yoongi unravel, rubbing his fists into the granite, crying out and arching his back, black hair fanning out with every harsh swallow and throat clench around the head, leaking pre-cum into your throat and throbbing into the roof of your mouth.

“F-Fuck me…”

He hissed out your name and snapped his chin to his chest, thrusting into your mouth, exploding, salty thickness coating your tongue and down your tight throat, you gulping it down with a choked gasp, his taste a part of you now after all this time, an edge of bitterness that you welcomed, who knew what the fuck he was eating before this, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, you had Yoongi’s cock in your mouth and every second was worth it.

Your tongue coated the head, collecting the dribbling cum and you swallowed that too, glaring at him. Lowering down once more, swallowing him to the base once again, him sucking in a pained breath at the sensitivity because your throat was unforgiving, constricting him as forcefully as you could, tongue sliding up, teasing right under the head, the thin skin that make Yoongi squirm and hiss under you, spreading the slit with the tip of your tongue. Yoongi slapped his palms onto the counter, clenching his jaw to avoid screaming.

But he didn’t stop you.

He simply watched you with pained eyes, letting you do whatever you wanted, thrashing under your merciless mouth, rutting the sensitive head against the roof of your mouth roughly, his body thrashing to try to get away, but still Yoongi said nothing, thin moans escaping his closed lips, even twisting his hips back and rocking them into your face to let you abuse him more, manhandling him to your heart’s content. You kept going, long agonizing minutes, strongly sucking the head, shoving it all the way to the back of your throat, teasing it with your tongue, swirling around and around, pressure, roughness, tightness, aggravating the sensitive skin until you saw Yoongi on the verge of tears.

He still didn’t stop you.

You retreated, your lips now only around the head, tongue ghosting over the pulsating, inflamed tip, drenching it with saliva.

“You deserved that,” you muttered.

“I deserve a lot of things,” Yoongi grunted, finally relaxing his shoulders and laying flat against the counter, panting hard, cheeks still flushed, staring at the ceiling.

Neither of you were saying sorry.

You gave him one last painful suck and he swore under his breath, but didn’t say anything else, biting his lip hard as you popped your mouth off his cock. For a few moments, there was nothing but oppressive, irate panting. Yoongi’s dick was still hard and sticking straight up, he himself spread out on your kitchen counter like a fucking buffet, still wearing his shirt and half-wearing his jeans. You were shirtless, tits out, gray sweatpants slung low on your hips.

“When are you going back?”

Yoongi was still staring at the ceiling.

“Don’t know.”

“Liar.”

Dark eyes flickered down.

“If you asked me five minutes ago, the answer would have been in two weeks.”

Your eyes narrowed, boring into his. “How many blowjobs have you gotten overseas, huh? One hundred? Five hundred?” Frustration, grief, vehemence, all rolled into one, turning your voice into ice, sheets of frozen water churning and reforming, snapping together one by one with each word, your hands coming up and digging your nails into his thighs, racking them down, bright red scratches in your wake. “How many people have you fucked? Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Yoongi?”

He gritted his teeth, screwing his eyes shut, fingers curling onto fists at the pain.

“I really thought you didn’t care,” was his distressed hiss.

You stopped; nails sunk into his pale skin, creating dark crescents with how hard you were pressing.

“I thought you would hate me forever.”

Your hands left his thighs, glaring scarlet lines of your pain on his skin now.

“And I thought it would get better, but it didn’t.”

His fingers uncoiled, one by one. Long, deft digits, practiced, trained, beautiful, crescents of pink from his own nails in his palm. Eyes opening, lash by lash, lifting, dark, pained, regretful, drifting down to you and his exposed, still-hard cock, just there, ignored, surrounded by scratch marks.

“I was mad that you didn’t try to contact me,” Yoongi mumbled. “And madder at myself for not trying to contact you.”

Ice cracking, melting off, crashing back down into the vast ocean of emotion.

You reached into your pocket.

Your name, tumbling from his lips, his eyes shifting to you.

“In between countless partings, the one I always remembered was you.”

You climbed onto the counter, sweatpants and underwear on the floor. Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock, so stunned that he couldn’t stop staring at you, knees, thighs, crotch – clean, you were always clean-shaven, but he didn’t know that, a habit you developed without him and now you felt weird with hair down there – and so he could see everything, wet lips glistening. Up to your waist, a pattern of small moles above your bellybutton that high-school Yoongi had danced his fingers over.

Saying, “My Milky Way, my galaxy.”

This was after you called him an insensitive bastard and he accused you of losing your virginity to some athletic jock kid, as if high-school you would ever have a chance with someone like that.

Up your tits, your collarbones, your face.

Determined.

Yoongi jumped, realizing you had wrapped your hand around his cock and pumped it a few times before rolling down the condom, angling your pussy above the purple-red head. He made eye contact with you.

“I can’t go back if you do this,” he whispered.

“Boo-fucking-hoo, shut your trap.”

You sank down and he clamped his jaw shut, veins on his neck popping out in strain as Yoongi tried not to cry, your previous ministrations amplifying the sudden hot, wet pleasure that overwhelmed him, you sighing in bliss as he filled you, nicer than before, better because you knew what to do now, relaxing your muscles before pulsing around him, his eyelids fluttering, whines in his throat, palms flat on the granite, such beautiful hands that you reached down and put them on your thighs, wanting him to touch you.

Dark brown eyes shaking, pupils dilated, fingernails digging into your skin.

“Isn’t that what you do? Use your hands all day?” you taunted.

He gripped your thighs tight, apology flashing across his features.

“You better not cum before I do,” you snapped, rocking your hips a little.

Yoongi sucked in a breath. “I’ll try.”

You leaned forward, one hand on the counter, the other closing in on his black hair. Twisting the black locks in your fingers, gripping so hard your knuckles were white, but you weren’t pulling on his hair, only holding it, but your eyes told him everything.

“You fucking owe me.”

Him staring into your blazing eyes.

“I owe you for the rest of my life.”

You rolled your hips into his crotch, hard, smacking your ass down on his balls and he whimpered, jerking his head to the side and pulling his own hair, whimper turning into a wounded gasp.

“Shut the fuck up. We both know you deserved that scholarship, you talented asshole.”

You began your pace, bruising and intense from the start, unforgiving, but you had already forgiven him, years ago, by yourself with no one else to know, now your hand in his hair with Yoongi writhing under you, causing his own pain flaring across his scalp because your grip was so tight, his hands on your thighs, his length sliding out and then shoved back in. You could feel him getting harder, swelling more, the sensation unbearable so he kept igniting the pain to prevent himself from orgasm. You made sure to let the maximum amount of your skin to hit him – clit on his crotch, pussy enveloped around his cock, the tip hitting your deepest, most pleasurable spot, ass smacking against his balls – so that even you moaned, shivers of ecstasy layering on top of each other, climbing notes of a song from long ago.

Now continuing.

From that night at your parents’ house that bedroom of painful and lovely memories, his hands on your wrists, telling you that he could go slow until you felt better, how could he not know? Yoongi just assumed it was because you weren’t aroused since you were so angry at him, and you never accused him of having any experience before you, and to be honest you didn’t give a shit; if that was society’s fault or your feelings for him, you didn’t know. It all seemed so foolish back then, stupid, why were you so attached to a high-school boy when there were thousands of other men and women out there, and you tried, you fucked them, but in the end.

In the end, it wasn’t the roars of pleasure or multiple orgasms or big dicks or sweet pussy that made you feel the same as you felt when you looked down at Yoongi, eyes rolling back, biting his lip so hard the skin was white, black hair bunched around your fingers, his fucking green t-shirt still on but you could tell every muscle was tensed and he was barely breathing, anything to prevent himself from orgasm, knuckles white on your thighs, clutching them so hard they would surely leave bruises, but you didn’t care.

Yoongi was a genius. He could play the piano like no one else.

Someone could be technically better, someone could be more experienced, someone could be more nuanced, but no one felt music like Yoongi felt music, no one loved piano like how Yoongi loved piano.

He deserved every cent, every experience, every year he spent overseas.

He seemed to feel your gaze on him and his eyes found yours, black pupils nearly overtaking the irises, sweating so bad that his t-shirt was soaking down the front.

“Hold on,” you breathed. “Hold on for me, Yoongi.”

He whined pathetically.

Did he love you as much as he loved piano or was it the soju talking?

Who are you kidding?

Yoongi would never love you as much as the piano.

You set your jaw and leaned down a little more, bending his cock the tiniest bit, more leverage to go harder, rougher, rolling your spine down, smack! Onto his crotch, Yoongi’s mouth flying open and crying out your name in shock, your knees screaming on the harsh granite but you didn’t care, fucking Yoongi for all you were worth, using every muscle and every technique you knew to apply as much pressure as you could, choking his dick. Yoongi’s hands jolted off your thighs, hitting your open thermos on the counter, both of your forgetting it was there this whole time, the double-walled, stainless steel, mint thermos.

It toppled and spewed warm water all over your thighs, your joined crotches, part of his shirt, probably leaking down his ass and onto the counter.

You yelped at the sudden unexpected wet warmth. Yoongi’s hips jerked up, wild moan escaping his lips and your pussy spasmed, orgasm plummeting into you, a sudden avalanche that made your eyes roll back and a guttural groan vibrate your chest, both hands inadvertently clasping and yanking on Yoongi’s hair, and he lost it, whining your name as he came, hard cock lurching and convulsing against your walls, shooting his load into the condom, his cries extending to wanton, pained moans. It took everything in you to at least loosen your fingers, spreading them on his scalp and holding his head as gently as you could, whole body shuddering, even your jaw, not able to say his name properly because your teeth were clattering uncomfortably against each other.

You closed your eyes.

Listening to Yoongi’s strained breathing. Hearing pain, sadness, his raspy voice from long ago, words in the seconds before you feel asleep in his arms from being worn out from anger and losing your virginity. All this time, wanting to believe it was silence, wanting to believe he said nothing, letting yourself believe in your lie to fuel your rage.

“I am sorry.”

You opened your eyes, lowering your chin. Yoongi’s dark orbs, glassy and spent, trying to focus on your face. His hand came up, still wet with the spilled water, and you realized you had pitched forward a little from the force of your orgasm.

His fingers danced on the small mole pattern above your bellybutton.

“My Milky Way. My galaxy,” he whispered softly.

Lovingly.

Guilt all over his face.

“I have to go back. I have performances, opportunities.”

You leaned down. “Stop lying, Yoongi.” Eyes locked with his and a smile. “You want to go back. Because you are an ambitious, talented asshole.”

You knew you were right. You could see it in his eyes, the quickness as he looked away, not wanting to face you. You slumped down, knees giving out, Yoongi’s cock half-buried in you, slowly softening, but it didn’t matter. You put your full weight on him, fitting your chin on his shoulder, not quite looking at his face, nose far too close to your fucking kitchen counter. Yoongi grunted uncomfortably, but didn’t tell you to get off. There was water everywhere and the mint thermos was on the tile floor and somehow neither of you had noticed. It must have made a very loud sound.

“I hate my job anyway. Might as well run away to a different continent for some stupid boy.”

“I can’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m not asking.”

He chuckled.

“You really have changed.”

“Sucks for you.”

You felt his arms wrap around your waist.

“Guess so.”

“Why was Taehyung here anyway?”

“I was supposed to show him how to eat pussy.”

Yoongi blinked at you, holding a damp rag. Both of you were kneeling on the floor, naked, attempting to sop up the mess. “How?”

“He was going to practice on me.”

“I can give a live demonstration instead,” Yoongi growled, an edge possessive.

“Yeah, no, I think my night is booked. Emergency appointment.”

You picked up your kitchen towels and wrung them out in your sink, looking down at him, raising your eyebrow. Yoongi’s hair was messy and curled, wet from sweat and water. He gazed up at you. You saw him shiver. You kept your expression neutral despite your heartbeat racing.

“Have some catching up to do.”

masterpost

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

359 notes · View notes

sunmoonandeddie · 3 years

Text

feelings are fatal (20/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 4,030

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, fluffiness

masterlist

a/n: I really hope

There was something to be said about how much Bucky Barnes cared for the people in his life that he considered his friends, his family.

Hell, he’d jumped out of many, many aircrafts for Sam, even though he wouldn’t admit it was for him.

He sent his therapist flowers and a gift for her birthday, despite the fact that more than half the time, they just annoyed the shit out of each other.

The amount of times he’d pulled you out of a funk was… Well, there was a lot.

However, there was also something to be said about how overboard Bucky Barnes could go when someone he loved had gotten hurt.

Or kidnapped by a Nazi terrorist organization and almost shot in front of him.

“Alright, you’re all tucked in,” he muttered under his breath, even as he went around the bed once again, his hands carefully tucking in your comforter all over again. “There we go… Are you comfortable? Too warm? Not warm enough?”

He’d been hovering the past four days since you’d gotten out of the medbay, and the five days before that when you’d been in and out of unconsciousness.

God, the feelings that had washed over you when you’d woken up again and found that he was back and your Soldat was gone. It was so bittersweet. You loved both of them, even if it was in different ways. Different shades, different tones of love.

You just kept telling yourself that the Soldat was right.

It was time for him to rest. Your time together was over.

But that in itself meant that it was time for something new to begin.

If only you could find a way to tell Bucky how you truly felt.

You watched him with your eyelids half closed, a drowsiness slurring your words as you laid there. “Jamie… Can you stop for a moment?” You don’t even think about how your words might make him feel, how they might sound.

“Oh… Right. Sorry if I’m annoying you,” he said, his voice dropping to where it was almost inaudible. He started to head for the door, having set down the water bottle in his hands.

“What?! No!” You said, quickly sitting up. You still felt like absolute shit, but you couldn’t let him leave. “I’m sorry. That’s not the words I wanted to come out. I… I just want you to relax for a moment. I’m okay.” Pulling your arm out of the warmth of your blankets, you patted the spot next to you. “Can we just… lay down and watch a movie for a bit?”

Bucky’s baby blues softened immediately, and he nodded, toeing off his sneakers. “Of course. I’m sorry… I’ve been…”

“Helicopter parenting?”

His cheeks flamed fire engine red as he slipped into the bed beside you, hesitating before pulling the blankets over him. “I don’t know if I like the parenting aspect of that,” he muttered, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. “FRI, can you turn on a movie?”

“Legally Blonde,” you added without a second thought, grinning at the confused look that painted his face. “Have you never seen Legally Blonde?”

“What? No? What the fuck is a Legally Blonde?” He asked. And, okay, yeah, he could gather from the context that it was a movie, most likely a girly one based on the title, but he loved the way you looked so aghast and the way you laughed at his old man tendencies.

“Only the greatest early 2000s chick flick of all time!” You squealed, playfully smacking his chest.

A wave of contentment, of happiness, washed over you as you laid half on his chest to watch the movie. His fingers were absentmindedly running up and down your spine, his breath tickling your forehead.

And it hit you that you could have this for the rest of your life. You could have this happiness, this peace, for the rest of your life with the man that was holding you.

Once again, you just needed to figure out how to tell him how you felt.

“Wait… So he broke up with her because she wasn’t… serious enough?” Bucky asked, his brows furrowed. “Or because she was too pretty and girly?”

“Both,” you said, glancing up at his face. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he fucking does.”

When the movie ended, you sat up, risking a glance at Bucky’s face. “Well? What did you think?”

He couldn’t help but shake his head, groaning dramatically. “If Sam finds out that I’m a fan of early 2000s chick flicks, he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Oh, this was good. So, so good.

“Jamie, I’ve watched Legally Blonde and other chick flicks with Sam. He loves them,” you revealed, watching the way his eyes lit up.

“There’s more?!”

You took it upon yourself to show him the best of the late 90s and early 2000s, finding that when he was distracted with tales of cheesy romance and girl power triumphing, he wasn’t so worried about your health.

But he did have a few problems with Clueless. “Let me get this straight,” he said with a scowl as he held you close in between his legs. “She’s… still in high school. Sixteen, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And he was her step-brother?”

“Yes.”

“And… he is still treated like her step-brother by her father?”

“Yeah.”

He blinked owlishly at the television that hung up on your wall, his mouth hanging open in an astonished ‘o.’ “And people just…”

“Decide to ignore that bit? Yup,” you supplied, turning your head to look up at him.

He frowned, tightening his hold around you. “I really don’t know how to feel about that. It’s a good movie. But…” His head then slightly cocked to the side. “Her step-brother looks like that one guy that helped us at the fight in Germany… You know, the one at the airport?”

“You don’t even remember Scott’s name?!” You asked, snorting. “You really are an old man.”

His fingers flew to your sides, tickling you mercilessly. “Yeah?! And what about it?! Huh? Huh?” When he finally stopped and your laughter had died out, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and took in a deep breath. “I missed you… when you were gone… Sometimes I forget just how integral you are to my life, but that�� Being without you reminded me of how desolate my days were when we were separated before.”

Heart clenching, you squeezed his flesh arm with both of yours, resolving yourself to not move the rest of the day. You’d quickly come to the conclusion that cuddling with James Barnes could be considered one of the great pleasures in life. “Well, we’ll never have to be apart again,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “What if… What if we took some time away? And we went on a little… vacation or something?”

“A vacation?” He said, and you could feel his heart rate speed up underneath your head. A vibranium hand smoothed over your hair. “Where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know…,” you admitted with a snort, shaking your head. “Just… away. Give us time to relax and really… I don’t know. Process?” Your eyes fluttered shut at his soothing touch. “Maybe we could go up to the cabin for a few days… maybe a week…”

“Yeah? You wanna stay a whole week with just me for company?” He asked playfully, even though he felt like his spirit was soaring.

Biting your lip, you pulled your knees up to your chest until your entire body was pressed against his chest. “Could spend my whole life with just you for company, Jamie.”

He’d understand, right? He’d understand that you meant ‘I love you.’ He’d understand the words that you were trying to say but were too nervous to get out, that your throat closed up and your eyes burned because the last person you said those words to in that way had demolished your heart, your soul?

But then again, he’d been the one to teach you what those words meant in the first place. Well, the Soldat had.

Bucky’s entire face was pink, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Me, too, malen’kaya.”

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair. It had grown out since his last haircut, and it was getting to be about ear length. “You know who you look like right now kinda?” You asked, an impish smile on your lips.

“Who?” He was clearly already anticipating the worst, even though he was letting his head tip forward to let you continue playing with his hair.

“Prince Kit or whatever his name is.” You were preening as your foreheads pressed together, his breathing even as you massaged his scalp. “From the new live action Cinderella.”

You can hear the smile, even though you can’t see his face. “You think I look like a prince?”

“Don’t get cocky on me now,” you shot back. But, in truth… You liked this side of Bucky. You had caught little glimpses of it when you were on the run with Steve, Sam, and Natasha. But this felt like the real him, and you loved it.

And as far as you were concerned, he could be as cocky as he wanted to be.

“Let me check with your doctors and get their opinion on when they think you’ll be okay to travel,” he said, his lips pressing to your hair. “And then I’ll talk to Pepper about letting us steal the cabin for a bit…”

A huff escapes your lips as you tug on his hair in retaliation. “Do you really think Pepper isn’t gonna let us stay there for a bit?”

You missed the way his breathing had hitched and his heart had skipped a beat, and he nuzzled into your hair to hide himself even more. “No, but it’s still nice to ask, you heathen.”

“Soldat, where are we going?” You asked curiously as you were led out of your ballet class, your hair still pulled back into a tight bun. “What’s going on?”

“No time to talk. We have a mission,” he said sternly, his voice deep and gravelly.

A mission?

You’d never been on a mission.

“Wait, are we leaving the Red Room?” You asked, glancing at the handlers that flanked the both of you. “Where are we going?”

“Do you understand the phrase ‘no time to talk?’” The Soldat asked with a snort, shooting you a glare.

Something was off.

The Soldat and you had been training together for over two years now, almost three, and you’d never gone on a mission.

Also, he never spoke so harshly unless there was something wrong or there were others present, and the handlers around you weren’t important enough for him to put up the mean teacher facade. No, there was something else going on.

Two hulking doors were waiting at the end of the hallway, leading to the outside world. Snow was swirling outside, frost painting the windows.

And you were still in just your leotard and tights. Fuck.

Of course, they weren’t gonna give you time to change.

You hadn’t even been outside of the Red Room since you were a toddler. Hell, you didn’t even own any cold weather clothes.

The doors opened, and you let out a sharp gasp as the icy cold wind hit you. In your peripheral, you could see the Soldat look at you and immediately move to take off his jacket, before remembering who was around and stopping himself.

It was a nice thought, knowing that if he could, he’d warm you.

Maybe you could daydream about him scooping you up, holding you in his lap… He’d run his fingers over your hair, his other hand smoothing up and down your back. That deep, gravelly voice you loved so much would murmur sweet things to you, his lips tickling your ear…

God, your little crush was getting out of hand.

Snow covered your hair as you were led out to a van that was waiting for you, smoke coming out of the exhaust pipe as the headlights shone through the dense white landscape. One of the handlers shoved your head down as you were pushed into the back seat, the Soldat following right after. A thich, kevlar covered thigh pressed against yours as you settled in. Pretending to not be cold was becoming a lot harder than you thought it would be.

“So… What exactly are we doing?” You asked tentatively after about ten minutes of terse silence.

“You’re our bait,” one of the men said simply, cocking his gun.

Ice cold water ran down your spine as you blinked at him. “Bait? What… What do you mean?” You could feel the Soldat’s thigh tense beside you, and you realized that he had known.

That’s why he’d been so cold, even beyond the fact that there were others present.

“It means you’re going to be bait,” another man said with an eye roll.

“Well, I mean… When you say bait, do you mean like bait that can be reused so you keep it alive or bait like a worm that ends up dead on a hook?” You said, your arms crossed over your chest. Being sarcastic probably wasn’t the best thing you could do at the moment, but whatever. If you were gonna die, you might as well die with a few good one-liners.

Beside you, the Soldat’s chest jolted, his lips pressed together as though he was trying to stifle a laugh.

See, you knew he’d get your humor immediately.

“Guess we’ll just have to see how well you behave,” the first man snapped, his voice threatening.

When you finally arrived at your location, it was several hours later, and you’d passed out, your head lolling back against the seat. You jolted awake when the van stopped, realizing that the sun had set. “Where are we?”

No answer.

“Great talk.” One of the handlers yanks you out of the van, pulling you over the Soldat’s lap and almost dislocating your shoulder in the process. “Fuck! You didn’t have to manhandle me, you asshole!” You’re not shocked when his hand meets your cheek, though you do have to take a moment to take a breath. “Can you just tell me what I have to do so I can do it and we can leave?”

The mission is simple enough, at least on your end. Apparently, there were a few vigilantes running around that Hydra needed gone.

And what vigilante doesn’t love a young damsel in distress?

It’s over before you realize, and you’re hit with a deep realization.

You had wanted the vigilantes to win, just for a second or two. You had wanted them to win and maybe you’d get to go somewhere where you weren’t almost killed everyday, where you were handcuffed to your bed each night, and where most meals consisted of protein shakes.

But only if it meant the Soldat could be rescued with you.

“We’re not going back tonight?” You asked in surprise when the van pulled up to a seedy motel.

“No,” one of the men said with an eye roll. “Don’t feel like driving.”

You were left alone in the car with the Soldat as the men went to get a room, but you didn’t mind. “Are you okay?” You asked softly, eyes flickering up to meet his.

The man grunted, his lips pressed into a thin line as he kept his face forward, watching for the men to come back. But his hand slowly moved down his thigh until you felt cool metal, and his pinky linked around yours.

It stays there until the men come back, and he lets go at the right second, as the van door is starting to open.

“Come on,” one of the men grumbled, leading you two down the length of the motel. “This is where you two will be staying,” he said as he opened up a door.

Brows furrowing, you looked up at him. “What? Alone?” They trusted you like that? You were going to be staying the night with your crush in a room alone?

“Just don’t get her pregnant. She won’t go through graduation for another few months,” another one taunted, letting out a loud, obnoxious laugh. They all looked the same, and sounded the same. Like Hydra had created a bunch of clones. “And you know what to do if she tries to escape, Soldat.”

There was a rock in the pit of your stomach as you walked into the room.

The men had left you alone with the Soldat because they thought he’d have sex with you.

They thought he’d already had sex with you, despite the fact that you were just seventeen.

And your Soldat wasn’t like that. Despite the fact that you were (admittedly) in love with him, and despite the fact that you’d heard of the other Soldats having… pleasure women, you knew that he’d never touch you.

Not like that.

That was the only thing that relaxed you as you walked into the room and the door shut behind the hulking man, a dim yellow light casting shadows all around the room.

“I’m not—”

“I know,” you said as you turned to him, cutting him off. “I know you’re not going to… do that. I trust you.”

He slowly nodded, a weak smile spreading over his lips, and it occurred to you that it was possible that no one had ever told him that they trusted him.

At least there were two beds, because you didn’t think your little heart could handle sleeping so close to him. God forbid you wake up cuddling him. You’d be absolutely mortified.

“I’m gonna grab a shower,” you said, pointing to the bathroom. You didn’t wait for a response before speeding over and shutting and locking the door. Fuck. You were gonna have to sleep in your leotard since you didn’t have any other clothing with you.

The shampoo and conditioner the motel provided smelled like nothing, and the body wash and face wash were the same. Even so, you took your time lathering and scrubbing and washing, taking a shower that was longer than five minutes or so for the first time.

It had been over an hour by the time you got out, every inch of your body scrubbed and then scrubbed again. It probably wasn’t good for your hair, but you washed it twice, just because you could.

What you were most surprised by was the few suitcases that were on the bed closest to the inside wall when you got out, redressed in your leotard.

“What is this?” You asked the Soldat, who had stripped out of his leather and kevlar and was just wearing his cargo pants and a white shirt.

“You didn’t have clothes,” he said bluntly, glancing over at you as he sharpened his knife on the cheap chair.

“Where did you get these?”

“Lost and found. I just grabbed a few in case one didn’t have what you needed.”

Sometimes you forgot just how caring he could be in little ways.

“Thank you,” you said with a grateful smile as you moved to dig through them, eventually moving to the bathroom to change into a fresh pair of underwear and a huge t-shirt and shorts. “How do I look?” You asked as you came out, striking a dramatic pose.

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he looked up at you. “Radiant,” he said after a moment, having thought of the perfect word. “You always are.”

Why the hell did he have to say such things when you knew you couldn’t be with him? You were too young, and the likelihood of Madame B allowing you to be together was… zero.

He motioned for you to get in the bed farthest away from the window. “You need rest, malen’kaya. I will keep watch.” After watching you crawl under the blankets and cuddle up to your pillows, he moved to sit on the bed, caressing your cheek. “Sleep… I will be here when you wake…”

“Sometimes I forget just how fucking beautiful it is out here,” Bucky said with a breathy laugh as he pulled up the long drive to the Stark Cabin. The sun was glittering out on the lake, the leaves just beginning to turn shades of ruby and gold. He threw the car into park and rushed around to your side to open the door and help you out before you could even blink.

The look you gave him didn’t do much as you placed your hand in his. It had only been a few days since he’d even let you get out of bed on your own and walk around.

As much as you loved him carrying you around like a blushing bride, it became a bit much when he was carrying you to the bathroom because you had to pee.

“It feels like so long ago… last time we were here,” you said as you watched him grab your bags.

He barely let you walk, there was no way in hell he’d let you carry your own duffel bag.

“What are you feeling for dinner?” He asked as he led you inside, setting your bags on the couch for the time being. “I was thinking maybe I could whip up some of that creamy chive chicken I made the other week? You liked that, right?” Bucky seemed to have a nervous energy running through him as he moved to the kitchen and began to figure out what they had. “I’ll need to have some groceries delivered…”

“Anything’s good with me,” you said faintly as you watched him, leaning against the doorway. “I’m really glad we decided to do this… It feels nice… getting away from everything for a little bit…” Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at the ground, arms crossing over your chest. “I mean… I love our family. You know I do. But—”

“It can get loud and crowded,” he finished, a kind smile on his face. “I get it.”

There’s a light inside your chest as you move further into the kitchen, giggling as his hands immediately go to your waist and lift you up onto the counter. “I knew you would.”

Bucky glanced up from his phone, having put in the grocery order faster than you expected. His vibranium hand rested on your thigh, and he gave a gentle squeeze. “You in the mood for a drink while we wait on dinner supplies?”

“Depends, bartender. What are you making?” You asked, letting your legs kick back and forth. You had to do something to prevent yourself from wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him close.

Would he ravish you like in the dreams you sometimes occasionally but totally-not-often had?

“Baby doll, I can make whatever magic potion you want,” he said, winking. His lips found a place on your cheek, letting it linger before he left your side, his hand leaving behind a warm spot on your thigh that felt empty without it. The way he moved around the cabin, so confidently, was such a far cry from when you’d been spending a few days in the guest rooms after the final battle.

It was fucking hot.

You were barely paying attention as he listed off cocktails and various concoctions.

“Malen’kaya? You there?” He called out, though you didn’t really hear him as he said your name.

It wasn’t until a floorboard creaked under his weight that you focused back in on the present. “Huh? Just… whatever you think I’ll like. I trust you,” you said, rubbing your hands nervously on your thighs.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said as your tongue wetted your lower lip.

“Okay, if you say so,” he said as he glanced back at you with a fond smile, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth. “And… I agree.”

Your head tilted to the side. “Agree about what?”

“I’m really glad we decided to do this.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n

331 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly.

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat ��@dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

137 notes · View notes

ardent-musings · 3 years

Text

“With Sprinkles on Top”

Neville Longbottom Smut

based off this request right here

Alright, another Neville smut for the plant daddy supremacy i feel like i’m a part of. But that’s fun for me. Nev deserves it.

EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS OF LEGAL AGE AND CONSENTING

Warnings: NSFW 18+, dom!neville, swearing, fingering, degrading, oral sex fem receiving, spitting, use of food.

Vanilla. Was the flavor of ice cream you and Neville were eating after hours in the school kitchens. It was your one-year anniversary and it was your boyfriend’s idea to sneak in to enjoy a “date” together since your Hogsmeade weekend was too far away for the both of you. So instead, the ice cream cones and banana split between you were going to have to do.

It was a wonderful night filled with sprinkles and brain freezes, lots of laughs were shared between you and your terribly sweet boyfriend.

“Are you going to finish that?” He asked, pointing to the already melted sundae on the table. The banana was demolished by you two and all that was left in the bowl was liquid ice cream and remnants of chocolate syrup.

“It’s all yours babe,” you giggled as you licked at your cone.

Neville grabbed the sundae boat, holding it up to his face to drip the ice cream into his mouth. Unfortunately, your dear boy underestimated the amount he could handle and he sputtered as a bit of the ice cream overflowed and dribbled down his chin.

“Shit!” He giggled as he tried his best to keep the dessert off his sweater. Neville’s face flushed red as he turned to reach for some napkins.

You caught how cute he looked all flustered and decided to take advantage of the mess in front of you. His tiny stubble at the base of his jaw scraped against your fingertips as your gripped him gently before directing his gaze to you. Before he had time to question your move, you leaned in close and teasingly licked the sweetness from the base of his neck, leaving tiny nibbles.

Neville gasped in surprise as your lips continued to lick a path up his throat and over his chin, the mixture of rich chocolate and sweet cream made you giggle and playfully moan. If you lingered on his neck you bet you could’ve felt his pulse beneath your tongue. And by the time your tongue made it past his chin, Neville was panting lightly and holding on to your hips. With his grip on you, parting from him was not an option so you placed a soft kiss against his lips.

Surprisingly, Neville threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of your scalp, making sure you couldn’t escape the intensity of his kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, finding yourself getting lost in the sickeningly sweet taste of him.

“You”

Kiss

“Taste”

Kiss

“So fucking good,” you moaned between his desperate kisses, the whole situation left you breathless.

“You do, too, love,” he hummed. His fingers gripped your hair harder, making you mewl and slump against his body which was firm beneath his soft sweater. “But that was fucking naughty of you to do. Don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but smile knowingly at the darkness his hazel brown eyes took; he looked like a man starved. Neville was always insatiable when he got like this: so overcome with his own need.

The pressure at your hips disappeared; although, so did the ice cream cone you were still nursing. Neville took the treat, dipped his finger into it and dragged the cold digit down your neck. The cold sensation made you cry out in surprise, but Neville’s warm tongue dragged across your skin, mimicking the move you just enacted on him.

“That was a bad idea, flower,” he groaned against you, his clean hand began unbuttoning the top of your shirt, leaving your bit of cleavage to become the latest victim of the cold dessert. “On the table, now.”

Your skin crawled at the commanding tone, finding it hard to combat, so you did as he instructed without complaint. As soon as your bum hit the wood, he grabbed your ankles so you were right at the edge. His hands were needy, hastily removing your shirt, only to take your ice cream and drip a stream of the vanilla down from your neck, in between your boobs, and down your stomach.

“Such a fucking tease,” his lips sucked hard at the base of your neck, leaving the pocket of skin flushed and sore, “But you love it. You love making me absolutely wild for you. Pretty little slut.”

His words made you whimper, but his tongue trailed between the valley of your tits as he suckled and licked the ice cream all the way to the band of your skirt. He wasted no time and flipped the short skirt up so your soaked panties were on full display.

“Think you deserve my tongue on your clit, darling?” His fingers dug into your jaw, making you face his stern yet pretty face. Neville was always so pretty, no matter what mood he was in.

“Yes, please,” you whined as he started grinding his palm against your already aching clit through your panties. “Please Neville.”

“Keep begging for me, needy thing you are. You really want me to finger fuck your pussy in the kitchens?”

You started blubbering your pleas, just hoping he would do more than suck at the skin that pooled above your bra, or the dip near your hips. He would giggle every time you shook from his lips, but you couldn’t help it. You just needed more of whatever he was willing to give.

“Please,” you whispered on last time with a pout while lacing your hands through his wavy dark hair.

He looked up from between your legs to smile softly, then took a wide lick at your soaked panties with his gaze still on you. Neville wasted no time fully diving into you, but the thin bit of fabric was dulling the feeling, making you grind into his mouth. He chuckled against you, leaving you to arch your back and pull his neck so he was impossibly close to your dripping pussy.

“Want more of my tongue? Want my fingers, sweet little slut?”

You nodded and cried, surprised to find a tear fall down from the corner of your eye. That was Neville’s downfall. He ripped your panties off of you unceremoniously and flicked your clit with perfect pressure with his skilled tongue. His licks alone could get you off, but Neville was determined to make you cry again, so he used two fingers to massage the most sensitive parts of you. Every part of your body screamed and leaned into his touch; your shoulder blades ached from arching off the hard wooden table.

But you couldn’t deny how good Neville fucked you with nothing but his mouth and fingers. It was torturous, fast paced thrusts and rhythmic circles around your bundle of nerves. Your eyes clenched as did your cunt around his talented fingers. The burning knot in your stomach was building, and you knew you wouldn’t be lasting much longer.

“M’close, baby,” you mewled while gripping and pulling on his hair.

To your dismay, he took his mouth of your clit, but it wasn’t left alone as he brought his other hand to circle the sweet spot while pressing down on your lower stomach. The pressure made the pounding of his fingers even more perfect, making you moan loudly as another tear fell.

“God, darling, I can feel my fingers in your tummy. You like getting fucked like a little plaything, don’t you?”

You nodded as a reflex, you would agree to anything Neville had to say at the moment; he had full control.

“Play with those tits, baby. Touch yourself for me,” he commanded before kissing the side of your knee while his fingers still fucked you into oblivion.

Of course, you followed his orders; you groped and massaged your breasts over your lacy pink bra and imagined they were his hands instead of your own. With your eyes closed, you could pretend that Neville had his hold on every part of your body. That alone brought you to the edge.

“C’mon, baby. Fuck your pussy is squeezing my fingers so hard. Wished it was my cock getting sucked in like that,” his fingers struggled to move as you clenched hard around him. “On the count of three, you’re going to cum for me. If you don’t you’re not cumming at all. Understand?”

His tone and words contrasted with the toothy grin that spread across his flushed face. Neville’s chin was dripping with your arousal, making him lick at his lips. You nodded yet again.

“One.”

Your legs were shaking with how good Neville was making you feel.

“Two.”

He growled at your sweaty figure, laughing at your flushed chest.

“Three. Cum now.”

And you did. Neville continued to pump into you as you screamed and thrashed on the table, hardly able to breathe. Your head was absolutely spinning as Neville pulled his fingers out of you and sucking them into his mouth.

He leaned over you and grabbed your throat with a gentle grip, “Open up, darling.”

You opened your mouth and he ducked down to spit into your mouth, it was surprising. But you were even more surprised to find the cocktail of your cum, his saliva, and the vanilla ice cream tasted positively dirty yet sweet.

He smiled and kissed the side of your lips, peppering them all over your face.

“Neville, that was amazing,” you sighed tired.

“Well, don’t get too excited, princess. You’re still getting fucked.”

#neville longbottom #neville longbottom smut #anon request #anon requests #plant daddy supremacy

125 notes · View notes

dongofthewolf · 4 years

Text

When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light- Chapter 2

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Read chapter 1 here !

After your night with Abby you head down to the cafeteria again to grab some food, still convinced it was all a dream. It’s not until you recognize a familiar face from across the room that you realize it was real, and this time she’s not alone.

Warnings: mild violence, swearing, fluff, just a lot of gay panic tbh

The new chapter is finally here !! All the positive comments on the first one made me so happy so THANK YOU for those :))

BTW that gif of Abby... both eyes open no blink (O_O)

When you woke from your slumber you were almost positive that your encounter with Abby was merely a dream or a figment of your imagination. It was the first time since moving to the base that you hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat; nightmares filled with the echoes of clickers and that piercing sound of ammo clattering on the floor was not an uncommon occurrence. After spending those two dreadful days trapped in a bunker with nothing but a pocket knife and a small handgun, a good night's sleep was something you no longer expected. You shivered as you recalled that dark, cold, concrete room you had barricaded yourself in, awaiting your death with no food, water, or supplies of any kind. It wasn’t until you heard the crashing of pipe bombs in the above levels that you snapped out of your weakened state. The WLF had on a whim decided to clear the building you were hiding out in and saved you. Your rescue was a complete stroke of luck and you weren’t sure whether to be incredibly grateful or afraid for it.

Still groggy from your sleep, you hadn’t even realized the small piece of paper that had been slipped under your door. It was from a page in a notebook that had been ripped out, and on it was a small message in neat, military handwriting: “Had a lot of fun last night :) - A”.

“So it was real!” You thought. That absolute tank of a woman wasn’t just a product of a sleep deprived trip to the communal cafeteria; she was real and every fibre of your being hoped she had enjoyed last night as much as you did.

You neatly tucked the note into your copy of Pride and Prejudice before getting ready for the day (or more like afternoon since you had slept in). After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you slipped on your military issued combat boots and a light sweatshirt before leaving your dorm.

It was still raining outside but luckily the WLF base wasn’t too chilly. Even when it snowed they always managed to maintain some modicum of heat, it seemed as though the wolves could always find ways around the pesky inconveniences of living in a post-apocalyptic world. You never really questioned it though and you knew better than to doubt Isaac’s methods. It’s not like you’ve actually met him or anything, but the stories that you had heard were enough to send a chill down your spine, and you knew that even if you did ask questions it’s not like anyone would answer them anyways.

Fortunately you hadn’t slept in past lunch because you were absolutely starving, so starving that even the shitty WLF base food was starting to smell like heaven. As you made your way into the cafeteria that was teeming with life, there was only one thing on your mind: devouring those damn burritos. Once you finally got some food you quickly sat down to demolish it, amazed at how so much happiness could be contained within the confines of a single bland tortilla and completely oblivious to the staring of a familiar pair of blue eyes from across the crowded room.

“Just talk to her already.” Manny said in a teasing tone.

Abby quickly snapped out of it “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”.

Of course Abby knew what he was talking about; in your rush to completely annihilate those burritos you had failed to notice Abby sitting at a table a few feet away. Abby couldn’t explain it but her heart was racing, the same way it would if she were in combat with a hoard or some Scars.

Manny rolled his eyes “Dude I’m not blind, you’ve been staring at her ever since she sat down. So who is she?”. He relished at the sight of Abby’s nervousness, he hadn’t seen her like this since back when she was still dating Owen.

“Huh? No hablo inglés.” Abby said sarcastically trying to get Manny off her back.

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to ask her myself.” Manny started to get up when Abby kicked his shins from under the table. Manny yelped in pain “Dude! What the hell?”.

“I will literally clock you in the face, sit your ass down right now.” Abby quickly glanced around the room to make sure no one noticed Manny writhing in pain.

Manny chuckled then smiled that classic smug grin while he gripped his definitely-bruised shins “I knew it, someone’s got a crush.”.

“God you’re annoying, I should’ve let that clicker eat you last week.” Abby said in an annoyed tone as she fell back against her chair. Abby felt a tinge of remorse for kicking Manny like that, she knew that Manny probably wouldn’t have actually walked up to you; but she couldn’t have risked it. Abby looked up and noticed Manny’s expression had changed, afraid she overstepped with that last statement Abby was just about to apologize when Manny started.

“What the fuck Abby?! Why didn’t you tell me about this girl, you know I’m the best wing-man.” Manny was suddenly very intrigued, Abby had always been very secretive when it came to her love life so Manny jumped at the opportunity to become her certified dating coach. Plus, not only did Manny have his fair share of experience with women, he also just really wanted to see Abby less lonely. After Owen and Mel started dating along with Leah and Jordan, Abby was stuck constantly third-wheeling the entire group; Manny didn’t think she minded that much, but sometimes it hurt his heart to see her all alone.

“There’s nothing to talk about Manny, we’re just friends.” Abby replied reluctantly, not completely believing her own words. It’s not like you guys were dating, but it felt like a disservice to call what you guys had a “friendship”. The word itself didn’t accurately encapsulate enough meaning for her and despite the fact she was a voracious reader, Abby just couldn’t come up with a word for what you two had.

“If you’re friends, then just go up and talk to her.” Manny knew Abby, and he knew that she always needed a push if he wanted to get anything out of her.

“I can’t… I just can’t. I’m not like you, okay?” Abby was conflicted, waves of doubt started to roll in the more she thought about it. She didn’t want to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t want to talk to her; that maybe you were just being nice last night and didn’t actually like her, or maybe even that you saw her when you came in and decided to ignore her on purpose.

Obviously Abby was freaking out for no reason, but those small anxious bits of uncertainty that crept in from the back of her mind made her shield of confidence feel tenuous and weak; something she despised.

Manny knew what Abby meant but being the smug little shit he is, he wanted to hear her say it out loud “What do you mean?”.

Abby sighed, “Don’t make me say it.”.

“No, no I really want to hear it.” Manny smiled that famous shit-eating grin, the one he used whenever Abby had to admit he was right.

Abby realized he wasn’t letting go of this “Ugh you know, you can… talk to people.”. Abby could tell by Manny’s face that he wasn’t satisfied with her answer, so not wanting to risk the possibility that he’ll stand up again Abby gave him a look of defeat “and I guess you’re charming or whatever.”.

“Ah! Música para mis oídos.” Manny smiled proudly, hearing Abby compliment him was almost as rare as seeing her without that signature braid. Just as Manny was getting ready to haul Abby’s ass to your table he looked over and realized that you had disappeared, it wasn’t until Abby kicked his shins again that he realized you were standing right there.

You were elbow deep in your third burrito before your dumbass realized that Abby was sitting a couple tables across from yours. “Shit!” You thought, how long had she been sitting there? Did she notice you? No, probably not… unless, what if she was so disgusted by you huffing down those burritos that she ignored you? Ugh! How could you not have noticed her?

You calmly set your burrito down, wiping your face and praying to God there wasn’t anything stuck in your teeth. You figured that Abby probably hadn’t noticed you so you decided to just bite the bullet and talk to her. As you stood up from your seat to make your way over to her table, you quietly whispered to yourself “Come on y/n, don’t be a pussy.”.

“Hey Abby.” She was sitting with a man who you assumed was the friend that she had transferred here with, she mentioned his name last night but you couldn’t place it. He suddenly jerked around to face you with a calm smile on his face, his rugged features and charming personality now making it clear as to why Abby complained about being kicked out of her own room so many nights. Even though you weren’t attracted to him, you understood what all the fuss was about.

“Hey Y/N, I didn’t even see you there.” As soon as the words came out Abby shot Manny a look, the kind of look that meant “don’t say a fucking word.”. However, of course Manny being… well Manny, he grinned and raised his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Manny.” His smile was warm and welcoming as he shook your hand “Please, sit down sit down. Tell me all about yourself.”.

You took a seat next to Abby, your knees just barely grazing each other due to the shortage of space at the table. Even though it was such a small form of contact, you couldn’t help but feel like there was an electric charge connecting you together. You wondered if she even noticed the gesture, if Abby could hear your heart daring to beat out of your chest; if she noticed that small gap between your hands on the table, or if she even noticed the small clandestine looks you were sending her the whole time.

Abby froze stiff as a board when you sat down next to her, and she did her best to maintain her composure when she felt your knee graze hers from beneath the table. This was the closest you two had been and now she could really see the details of your face and your actions; how you pushed a strand of hair behind your ear whenever you were nervous, or how you snorted when Manny thought “Little Women” was just about really tiny people. She noticed how bright your smile was, how it was the kind of smile that could instantly light up an entire room, and she was astonished because Abby finally understood the real meaning of that one Firefly quote about “looking for the light”. Abby realized that no matter what, she would follow you to the ends of the Earth. You were this bright and unexpected light that suddenly entered her life, you weakened her defences and made her feel like a ball of putty, and while one part of her detested that feeling, another part of her never wanted to part with it.

You explained to them how you had been rescued by the WLF and how you were a pretty skilled mechanic. You even told them about how although you loved your job, you desperately wanted to work in the library, because other than the fact that you wouldn’t be covered in grease at the end of every day, you’d also be surrounded by things you love.

The two told you about the “Salt Lake Crew” and how they were essentially Isaac’s top soldiers. It was a fact that left you with about a hundred questions, but you figured it wasn’t the right time to bring up their boss so you tried your best to brush it off. The three of you sat at that table talking for what felt like forever before the cafeteria staff kicked you guys out because they had to clean up.

As they both walked you to your room you were so incredibly excited. You had spent so many months at this boring outpost, spending most of your time reading or crying. Then Abby happened; she came into your life and suddenly you weren’t alone anymore. You were so insanely grateful for this newfound happiness that you just wanted to leap into those insanely strong arms.

Just as the two were about to leave Abby grabbed your hand and leaned down to your height so she could quietly talk to you, “Hey Y/N, can I ask you something?”.

You were so dumbfounded by her hand holding yours that you nearly passed out, you tried to form words but all you could manage was a small nod.

Abby smiled as she stood up and looked to Manny “Hey, you can go ahead I’ll catch up. I just need to talk to Y/N for a quick sec.”.

Manny immediately got the signal and grinned so wide Abby thought his face would freeze like that, Abby knew she was never going to hear the end of this, but she couldn’t really be bothered to care with your hand in hers.

Then Manny was gone, and it was just you and Abby. Her hand was still holding yours and you couldn’t help but notice all the details of them; how she had these small calluses on the palms of her hands, formed from years of wielding firearms and lifting weights. You realized how much damage she could do with them—how much damage she had done with them—but instead she stood there softly cradling your hand in hers, just lightly squeezing it before she looked at you with those same pools of blue you wanted desperately to drown in.

“Hey so I know we kind of just met last night, but I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with you and…” Abby paused to contemplate her words before starting again “and I was wondering if we could do this more often. I’m doing some work for Isaac tomorrow but I’ll be back later if you wanted to come by and watch a movie or something?”.

“Holy shit!” You thought “Did Abby just ask me out on a date?”. You couldn’t believe it, there was no way this absolutely fucking perfect girl just asked you on a date. You almost wanted to pinch yourself because nothing about this felt real, it wasn’t until you snapped back to reality that you realized you had been staring at Abby in absolute silence while she stood there waiting for an answer.

You quickly answered “Absolutely, I would love to come over and watch a movie.” Your heart was pounding dangerously fast against your ribcage and your face was completely flushed as you gave her a reassuring smile.

Abby sighed with relief and lightly squeezed your hand “Great! I’m in the room across from the gym, does eight o-clock work?”. Abby felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, at first when Y/N didn’t say anything, she was afraid she had misread the situation and crossed the line.

“I’ll see you then.” As you started heading back to your room, you suddenly remembered something “Hey Abby!” She looked back with curiosity as you shot her a small smirk “Thanks for the note.”.

Abby smiled shyly “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

—

Read the next chapter here

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #the last of us imagine #abby anderson #abby tlou #manny tlou #fluff #fxf #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #gay panic #slow burn kinda

165 notes · View notes

laalaaangel · 3 years

Text

All BFU Episodes sorted into categories + additional comments by ✨me✨

Disclaimer: I’m a Shaniac, but i still get scared because i don‘t like darkness. I also think the Spirit Box is baloney.

So basically I sorted all Buzzfeed Unsolved episodes (with Ryan and Shane) into categories by how scary/depressing they are. I didn't know where to put some of them, so maybe this won’t make any sense to some of you. It is entirely subjective.

The additional comments are either thoughts I had while watching the episodes or what I actually think about the case btw.

To celebrate the show, Ryan and Shane, i had spaghetti and an apple (i couldn‘t actually make apple taters unfortunately) while watching the series finale.

Well, let’s get this started, shall we?

The creepiest episodes, I only watch these when i have a lot of light around me and it’s daytime

Annelise Michel: Very creepy, very depressing as well since she didn’t get the treatment she needed, the recordings sent a shiver down my spine, maybe i’d be less creeped out if it wasn’t for how she knew details about this valentin fleischmann dude

3 Horrifying Cases of Ghosts and Demons: Winchester House isn’t really scary but i hate dolls so the Island of the Dolls was a big no for me, the Sallie House remains one of the scariest places they’ve visited

Waverly Hills Hospital: The body chute is pretty much the creepiest place they’ve ever visited, also i feel sorry for the homeless man and the dog. The idea of ghost children creeps me out.

Keddie Cabin: Pretty much the creepiest True Crime Case of the Series, there‘s just something about woods, cabins and knives, also it really seems like the whole town was just… in on it? It‘s weird and disturbing (and why the fuck did they demolish the fucking crime scene when the case is still being worked on today i don‘t get it)

Eastern State Penitentiary: In terms of evidence this episode is definitely one of the most compelling ones. I still don‘t believe in ghosts tho.

Hannah Williams: Shane looks so done with everything lmao. This is one of my fav episodes, so many good moments but i always get really creeped out. It’s really admirable how brave Ryan got.

Old City Jail: Hands down, this is one of the best episodes imo but that evidence isn’t compelling at all to me. Ryans manical mental breakdown is the scariest thing about this episode.

Conjuring House: Those fucking dolls i swear to god, one day imma die of a heart attack when watching these. Shane is above the devil confirmed! I absolutely DETEST the placing of the fucking mannequin this season... i did not just witness them pretending to be cats💀 i‘m ngl this episodes i really creepy af- SHANE DRANK THE FUCKING HOLY WATER! ok but honestly even without the « it’s haunted » bs who would willingly live on this farm?

Pythian Castle: I actually think this castle is really nice tbh. APPLE TATER IT SAID APPLE TATER!!! ... i didn‘t hear spaghetti tbh but i love seeing them so excited. oh PLEASE let Shane destroy the spirit box at the end of the series!

Sallie House: „who knows“ Shaneee I'm surprised!😲 Well five minutes in and ryan is already going mad, I wouldn't have expected anything else. The scariest thing about this place is the ugly kitchen interior tbh. That animated bit of the little girl turning into this ugly whatever this is gonna haunt me in my nightmares and the reason why this episode is in this category. I swear Father Thomas looks like one of my old teachers! They ARE the best ghost hunters to ever live! ...imagine walking past the house, not knowing they‘re filming and hearing Ryans laugh...YES SHANE DESTROY THE SPIRIT SHIT BOX! Ryan stop making me cry😭 A DOCUMENTARY AIRS ON NOVEMBER 24TH???

I definitely wouldn’t watch these at night because they’re either scary (but not the scariest) or depress me too much

Queen Mary

Whaley House

Bobby Mackey’s

Lizzie Borden: Yeah i can’t believe people wrote fanfics about them but the conspiracy theory does make sense in a way I guess, also the pics of the corpses are gruesome and not something I ever wished to see.

Dauphine Orleans Hotel: The drawing of the lost bride haunts me in my dreams, otherwise this episode would be in another category.

Voodoo World of New Orleans: fucking DOLLS again

Axeman of New Orleans: Yeah no one wants to get murdered with an axe and the idea of this dude is creepy as hell even if he’s incapable of actually killing all of his victims like how hard can it be to murder someone with an axe when they’re asleep

Murder in Room 1046: Very strange case, creepy to imagine, also the birth episode of Ricky Goldsworth! I think the Mafia did it but yeah, overall just a very creepy case.

Vulture Mine: If it weren‘t for the school building scene then this would be one category below because… glory hole

Goatmans Bridge: Goatman and the bridge don‘t scare me but the idea of cultists in woods does. Definitely one of my fav episodes, if not my favourite, a lot of iconic moments in this one

Pennhurst Asylum: Shane being Shane keeps this episode from joining the scariest category. And no front to Ryan but the audio recorder „evidence“ is the absolute least compelling ghost evidence i‘ve ever heard lmao (this is also the first BFU supernatural episode i‘ve ever watched)

Roanoke Colony: Look it‘s really just the moving mannequin, i could not watch that at night at all, the episode itself isn’t that creepy. Mainly because two of Ryans theories were aliens and zombies.

London Tombs: ...Shane predicted the pandemic💀 I know I said it already but dolls are just creepy as fuck but it‘s funny bc they‘re essentially just yelling at toys. Scary is maybe not the right word to describe this episode but it certainly is disturbing.

Jack the Ripper: I feel like it was either Barnett or an unknown police officer, but to quote Shane: „let it be a mystery“.

Cleveland Torso Murders: Gruesome, but the real mystery here is which beheaded british royal Ryan was referring to (I love history ok) because there are several that would qualify (and no it can‘t be Anne Boleyn, i think he was referring to Mary, Queen of Scots)

Texarkana Phantom Killer: i hate this case, i feel like this dude just got away with it and i hate it

Jamison Family: woods again and I think the reenactment is creepy as hell

Rolling Hills Asylum: I don’t believe in ghosts but i like to think that if they were real, the ghoul boys made Roy really happy by playing opera music

Bellaire House: “Spaghetti” “Apple Tater”

Ohio State Penitentiary: I absolutely love Shane in this episode and i love Ryan forgetting the spirit box and having to go back after insulting the air ghosts on his way out

Moon River Brewing: „His mind is his own worst enemy. And it‘s my greatest Ally.“ <- Demon Shane really came out here. This place is so so not haunted lmao i almost always feel like they‘re talking to air but this time it was just so clear like… but i hate it when they edit the eyes of anything red, it‘s so creepy, especially when you‘re half asleep when watching it (Note after watching the Houdini episode: i wrote that it wasn‘t haunted before Ryan said that it isn‘t so my guts were right haha)

Sorrel-Weed Haunted Mansion: What a shame Ryans camera didn’t actually catch anything but darkness, i love how the suspense music just leads up to absolutely nothing.

Black Dahlia Murder Revisited: This case makes me physically sick, George Hodel is definitely guilty, i fucking hate this dude and the fact that he was able to live his life after all the shit he did

Annabelle the Doll: I fucking hate dolls- Ryan: basically you just have to respect her *cut to shane* i will say, i do not respect you💀 one of my absolute favourite BFU scenes ever

St. Augustine Lighthouse: “not to say he’s like my daddy or something… “ is Ryan aware that some people write fanfics about them lol

USS Yorktown: is Shane having an existential crisis? Also am i the only one who doesn’t see shit? Like where does Ryan see a shadowy figure please I really want to see it

Villisca Ax Murder House: Being murdered like that is like one of my biggest fears ngl. I’m kinda surprised Ryan doesn’t believe in unicorns and Shane reaction to that is exactly the same as mine! Also if Shane actually checks every room before he goes to sleep to make Sara feel safe that’s so adorable!

Loey Lane: I love Loeys collection of Minnie Mouse ears! Shane acting possessed gets me every time... Shane teaching Ryan how to floss💀

Farnsworth House Inn: I am SO here for them insulting confederate ghosts! I can’t with them trying to be babies😂 Well if it wasn’t haunted before… Shane might have made it haunted tbh. Also manic Ryan is back.

Morris-Jumel Mansion: …how is that one of their best pieces of evidence😭 there are literally several possible explanations as to what could have caused the whistling sounds before it‘s a ghost

A bit scary and/or depressing, i wouldn’t watch these at night

OJ Simpson: Just depressing, i personally think OJ did it and got away with it and it’s a prime example of how everything that could’ve gone wrong in the process went wrong, in every aspect.

Illuminati: I don’t believe in it but the idea is creepy.

Michelle von Emster: That poem is a fucking atrocity and drowning is one of my biggest fears.

Sodder Children: Sad as fuck, the salesman dude was definitely in on it, i hope the family and children found peace.

Salem Witch Trials: The misogyny of this time period makes me furious ngl

Boy in the Box: It’s not really creepy (well the picture of the boy kinda is) but i feel so sorry for the boy.

JonBenét Ramsey: Sad case. It’s sick how many old men were obsessed with her. I think it was the brother btw, he accidentally killed her and the family covered it up. But then again this episode also brought us the “i’ve connected the dots” meme. Oh and it‘s the first BFU episode i‘ve ever watched btw

Colchester Castle

William Desmond Taylor: The reenactment is kinda creepy ngl but we have the most iconic Ricky Goldsworth appearance in this episode!

Louis Le Prince: Thomas Edinson sucks this guy is guilty as fuck, if not of murder then of being a terrible human being and a thief. Very sad case.

Villa Montezuma Mansion: ...but did he poop himself?

Collar Bomb Bank Robbery: i hate e v e r y t h i n g about this case

Bobby Dunbar: I feel bad for Julia Anderson, strange that they didn‘t compare the DNA to an Anderson DNA sample as well

Winchester Mansion Revisited: I love the flashbacks to the first episode, Shane is such a mood in this episode lol

Mission Solano: The alarm going off will never not be funny💀 i love Shane in this episode so much

Yuma Territorial Prison: Shane really isn‘t having it with the ghosts this season lol also what do you mean you shut the terrified part of your brain off like how😀

Town of Tombstone: „It has been an honor to meet you, sir“ „HORSESHOES“ Shane you are KILLING me💀 can I just say that I think this episode is criminally underrated

The Watcher: Shane and me have a similar way of thinking, two seconds after i thought the whole neighbourhood could be in on it like in Hot Fuzz Shane mentions it lmao also i wonder what Ryans dad thinks about the running gag of him cutting someones head off and yes Ryan, i‘d be scared too if i saw your face smiling like that in my window

Florida Machete Murder: Being murdered like that is one of my biggest fears, this is the episode Ryan realised that Shane is a demon

Walter Collins: The movie based on this case is really good, fucked a bit with my mind though (it’s called Changeling!) anyways FUCK JJ Jones and the police and FUCK Gordon Northcott, that guy can rot in hell

Viper Room: That is not how you pronounce Schwarzenegger, Ryan. Am i the only one who wants to go clubbing there? "now i’m in your hole”Ryan honestly💀 Shane is really on a new level of done with ghost hunting in this season lol

Thelma Todd: she sounds so cool i would love to be able to talk to her and i HATE to say it but Lucky Luciano could get it

Who put Bella in the Whych Elm?: Ryans lack of science knowledge is the scariest part about this episode although the story is creepy

Marilyn and Sam Sheppard: good movie.

Flannan Isles Lighthouse Keepers: their scottish accent💀 I just know that Ryan only mentioned the aliens to annoy Shane... isn’t there a Brothers Grimm tale about men turning into birds?

Cynthia Anderson: I just feel so bad for her, i hope she just ran away (like what if she ran away and left that particular page in the book open to suggest otherwise?)

Mary Celeste: I just love the music they used in this episode. Shane is right, why feminize a ship like even in german it‘s neutral and not female (das schiff, das boot…)! Shanes impression of a german pirate💀 „or it‘s a zooboat and the monkeys got out“ literally what?- I just love it when Ryan starts with the aliens and then doesn‘t elaborate. I don‘t like this case it‘s so fucking weird

Princess Diana: I‘m not even into the british royal family but i love Diana, she seemed really nice and i hope she‘s in a better place now. „Princess Dianas future husband“ the shade💀Honestly Charles is just a walking red flag

Not extremely scary but I wouldn't watch these at night

Gloria Ramirez: The only thing that spooked me a little bit is how affected the staff seemed to be.

Mary Reeser: The possibility of dying like that is unsettling.

3 Cases of Ancient Aliens

Bizzarre Road Trip of a Missing Family

Amelia Earhart: “Let me spin you a yarn that you shan‘t soon forget. i‘m being eaten alive by crabs right now.”

Natalie Wood: Drowning is a fear of mine as well. I don’t know what to think of this case, my guts say Wagner is guilty but my head says it was probably just a very unfortunate accident since they were all drunk as fuck. Also Shoutout to Dr. Lakshmanan Sathyavagiswaran.

Poisoned Pill Murders: new fear unlocked

3 Cases of Alien Abduction

Viaduct Tavern: Shanes laughing fit at the execution breakfast is really relatable, I think it’s great.

Isdal Woman: Yeah my brother almost killed me when i watched this; he opened my closed door very quietly and just stared at me through the small space between door and wall until i noticed. I almost had a heart attack

Mothman: I mean a good chunk of this video is them being tourists and screeching like possessed people, it’s iconic

Phoenix Lights Phenomenon

Jimmy Hoffa: I think Sheeran killed Hoffa… maybe i should finally watch The Irishman but it’s so looooong!

Eight Day Bride: I love Shane saying „heteronormative bullshit“ and him thinking like Christina in the beginning, this is one of my fav episodes

Poisoning of an Ex-Russian Spy: I constantly switched between „what‘s wrong with Shane“ and „Shane is a mood“ during those 21 minutes

Charles C. Morgan: The Hot Daga finally made it into the main show! Also the police is sus af

Reykjavík Confessions: Almost missed this one bc it‘s not in the all episodes playlist smh i should start watching them by seasons, I don’t even know which episode belongs to which season tbh. Anyway, i don‘t like this case one bit.

Australian Shark Arm Murders: Did anyone count the puns? The shark is the real victim here. I love australian Shane ngl

Bugsy Siegel: Love me some unsolved mob cases. Did you know that the character of Moe Greene in “The Godfather” was inspired by Bugsy Siegel?

Vincent Van Gogh: I really just feel bad for him tbh, i adore his art style.

Dorothy Arnold: YOU’RE MY FRIEND but make it threatening. No but Shane wanting to go to Antarctica is actually a mood! THE JOHN GALVIN STORY💀

Edgar Allan Poe: I feel a little bit sorry for him, i’d feel more sorry if he didn’t marry his 13 year old cousin

Lady of the Dunes: WHAT DO U MEAN YOU DON’T LIKE DOGS SHANE and damn yes we on tumblr are supportive as hell of your show

Somerton Man Revisited: Well now, if i ever have children, i’ll make them believe i’m a spy. All jokes aside tho i’d love to see this case get solved but then again which case wouldn't we like to see get solved

Harry Houdini: Damn i would‘ve loved to see him perform live!

George Reeves: Yeah i actually hope Shane and Ryan won’t ever do cameo bc cameo kinda weirds me out tbh (don’t come at me pls) but hey! as long as everyone is happy. Every time Ryan mentions his katana it adds ten years to my life span. This is a strange case and i doubt it was suicide tbh

Monster with 21 Faces: Look i‘m not rooting for then but i love the police bashing

Judge Joseph F. Crater: „I’ve never worn a bow tie, i will never wear a bow tie“ Shane your twitter profile pic used to be you wearing a bow tie

Alfred Loewenstein: wait that Brussel sprout pun was actually funny😭It must‘ve been murder, i‘m 99% sure! Shane why, aliens really 😶

I’d probably be able to watch this late at night (but that doesn’t mean i would try)

DB Cooper: iconic episode, interesting and also kinda funny case we all know Loki is DB Cooper

Bigfoot

Bermuda Triangle: atlantis go brrrrr aReA 51

JFK: I mean, it‘s just really not a creepy episode and we all know governments and such are sus af

Roswell‘s Bizzare UFO Crash

Legend of Krampus: lol yes i included this, i love the references to other cases

Gardner Museum Heist

Killing of Ken Rec McElroy: fuck this guy, this episode is so satisfying

Alcatraz Prison Break: i love this one because the plan is just so good and possibly no one got hurt? idk i like to imagine they made it

Treasure Hunt of Forrest Fenn: I envy Forrest Fenn, i love history and archaeology but tbh I have to agree with Shane, it is stealing (unless it was fairly traded or paid for), love how Shane is ready to fight the lawyer lol he‘s so enthusiastic about all of this, i love the research montage, the way Shane looked at Ryan when he came out in the Indiana Jones outfit, i just love this episode so much

3 Videos from the Pentagon‘s Secret UFO Program: Honestly if more people were like Shane we‘d have a lot less problems in the world. „there are people crazier than me-„ are you sure about that Ryan

Hidden Secrets of Area 51: Ryan really likes touching his nipples apparently. What in the anarchy is Shanes thought process like, i’d love to know- licking the case file😭

Pink Panthers: They kinda remind me of the La Casa de Papel gang tbh

Agatha Christie: well now i wanna reread murder on the orient express

Unsolved Almost 70th Episode Retrospective:

Jack the Ripper is a pretty good episode but i don‘t think i‘d place it in my top five

i love the deleted bits so much

agreed, Waverly is one of the, if not THE creepiest place they‘ve visited

oh yes DB Cooper would definitely be in my top five (now even more after watching Loki)

oh here we go top five evidence…

hmm yeah i liked the dog but i‘ll only believe in ghosts if i see a full body apparition in front of me when i‘m in a normal state of mind

nah the spirit box just doesn‘t do it for me

the footsteps? really?

the ball was coincidence imo but imma give them that: it was creepy

not the flashlights- ryan the diagram doesn‘t help you lmao

i have to be honest: i haven‘t watched the episodes with Brent

Waverly is a great episode, probably also in my top five (at least if it‘s only supernatural)

FATHER THOMASSSSSS! he sounds like a disappointed dad

Goatman episode is definitely in my top five

First episode it’s understandable that this is in the fans favourite, i love it too but i‘m not sure if it would be in my top five, top ten yeah, but top five? idk

it‘s weird seeing this last scene in a pandemic

Well it‘s been a ride. I haven‘t been part of their journey since the beginning unfortunately, but i got into Buzzfeed Unsolved in 2018, so i‘m not a complete newbie either. This show got me through a time when i wasn‘t doing well mentally and i can‘t thank Ryan, Shane and everyone who was involved in the making of Buzzfeed Unsolved enough for this. It’s truly the end of an era. Ryan & Shane, i‘ll see you on Watcher! @wearewatcher

And to answer the question „Are ghosts real?“ …i‘m still gonna have to go with no. But since my opinion on this isn‘t the only one that matters, the question will remain… Unsolved.

#buzzfeed unsolved #buzzfeed unsolved true crime #buzzfeed unsolved supernatural #bfu #bfu true crime #bfu supernatural #shane madej #ryan bergara #thank you ghoul boys #lalas thoughts #yeah i contradict myself sometimes #bc it really also depends on my day whether i find something to be creepy or not #deal with it

14 notes · View notes

lilyfreshwater · 2 years

Note

I swear to god , people need to stop putting ccs on a pedestal cause they could made a small mistake or a joke that went completely over their fans head and get completely demolish over it , sorry but if yall are betrayed or letdown by ur fav cc then that's a you problem and get tf outta internet and touch some grass (btw not about the Dream situation)

genuinely tho fans have absolutely no context for what is a bad thing and what is a horrible thing. some said the r word once in 2006? you're going to hell and dont deserve any success you've had you piece of shit. someone actively lies to their fanbase and doesnt care about the personal safety of the fans he disagrees with? but hes just defending himself 🥺

#ask

3 notes · View notes

sinfullystanning · 4 years

Text

Ten Things I Hate About You

Matt Murdock x Reader

Genre: Lots and lots of angst

Warnings: Mentions of death, grief, swearing

A/N: This takes place after the events at the end of The Defenders. Yes, the movie mentioned in the story is “Ten Things I Hate About You” which I absolutely love.

Summary: After being presumed dead for months, you find out that your boyfriend is very much alive and it drives a wedge between the two of you bigger than death did.

It was Wednesday. A few months ago, on a similar Wednesday, you’d been huddled in a police station with Karen and Foggy, waiting for Matt to come back. The problem, of course, was that he hadn’t. You tried your best not to think about it, but all you can see when you close your eyes was them coming back, the tiny reunions breaking the tension that been threatening to choke the other families and friends that were in the same room in the Harlem precinct with you and your friends. Jessica first, then Luke, then Danny and Colleen, and then nothing. Your eyes had been glued to the empty doorway, waiting for Matt to limp in the way he always did, every single night without fail. He promised that he’d always come back to you, but that night he’d broken that promise. You’d waited, still as a stone, waiting for him to make a dramatic entrance, the way he always unintentionally did. Even when your ears heard Karen’s quiet sobs, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from that doorway.

Eventually, Foggy put his hand on your shoulder, wanting to comfort you, but you hadn’t wanted comfort, no, you wanted your boyfriend, safe and sound. Even if your brain and heart had stopped, your body knew what it wanted and you’d barely felt it as your body got up, managing to keep steady as it exited the room slowly making your way down the hallway until a cop grabbed your arms, saying something about how you needed to stay for questioning that you didn’t hear over the rushing in your ears, you’d brushed him off but when you were almost in sight of the precinct door, you’d been stopped again, this time by more officers. They were saying things like how they knew how you must feel right now but you had to stay and how Matt would want you to be safe and that’s when you snapped and the screaming started.

It didn’t stop either, what the cops had probably been hoping was a single cathartic scream was the opposite of that because once the dam opened, all the pain, rage, and grief that you’d kept pent in from the night that you first found out that Matt was Daredevil came pouring out. Every night that he came home safely, he put those emotions at bay, building your dam higher, the nights that he came home half-dead putting thin cracks in your composure, but tonight he’d managed to demolish it completely. You barely remember what you’d said, but I particular line stuck in your mind: “IF HE WANTED ME TO BE SAFE, HE’D BE HERE!” You struggled against the officers that were trying to calm you down until Luke eventually had to step in so you couldn’t cause any more damage. Claire had sat you down in a room talking you through grief or something, you remember none of it, and you’d eventually wrangled your storm to remain internal. Hours that felt like days later, and you were leaving the precinct, pushing away Karen and Foggy when they tried to reach out to you, your feet leading you to the last spark of hope in your heart.

Logically speaking, if Matt had just gone to his apartment instead of the precinct, the others would know that he was alive and someone would have told you, but you weren’t thinking logically. So when you finally felt your key scrape the lock of Matt’s front door, you threw the door open, calling for him, letting useless hope fill your voice before finding the room the same as when you’d left the night before. And so you’d filled the room with your tears.

That was months ago, however, and eventually, you’d come out of the room when you’d run out of days you could take off of work. Without Matt, however, you had a gaping hole in your life that you didn’t know how to fill. Wondering, not for the first time, what Matt would do, you’d found yourself at Clinton Church on a Wednesday. You’d only been inside a handful of times, with Matt as you weren’t particularly religious yourself, but now it felt like there was nowhere else to be. Tentatively, you’d walked in, the sanctuary mostly empty, a few people knelt in the pews, eyes closed tight in prayer. You’d made your way to a vacant pew, sitting down, eyes scanning the room, for what, you didn’t know. As you sat, however, you found yourself feeling something, a sort of peace that the outside world, your friends, and three different grief counselors, hadn’t been able to even begin to make you feel. You felt a tear run down your face, splashing down onto your tightly clasped hands in your lap. You closed your eyes, unsure how to proceed when a hand touched your shoulder, and you opened your eyes again, blinking away the tears in them, swiping at your cheeks to hide the evidence of your grief to see Father Lantom sadly smiling down at you. Seeing him reminded you of Matt, you’d met the man a few times for lattes in the church basement with Matt, and Matt had told you plenty of stories about the old man from his childhood. Now, seeing him broke a dam that you didn’t know existed and you wept as the priest’s expression softened in understanding and took a seat next to you, holding you gently as you cried.

***

Today is Wednesday. Every Wednesday, you came to Clinton Church for midday mass, a routine that had helped you get back on your feet better than any therapist, then coffee in the basement with Father Lantom and you’d talk, about God, about life, and sometimes, on your good days, about Matt. You’d light a candle for him in the front of the sanctuary and pray for his peace, wherever he was. Today, however, a different priest gave the homily, and so you venture to the Church basement alone, looking for Father Lantom or someone who might have seen him. He wasn’t in the usual room where you two usually met, so you decided to search for his office. Unfortunately, you had no idea where that was and eventually found yourself lost somewhere in the various passages under the church. Just when you were about to give up and try and retrace your steps in an attempt to find somewhere familiar, you heard a noise. You weren’t sure where exactly you were, but as you headed towards the sound you found yourself in a stone hallway, that if you didn’t know better looked like some kind of crypt. You heard it again. The sound was closer, you cautiously made your way down the hall, stepping lightly and silently, the way Matt had taught you in the event that you were ever trying to hide from someone. Then you saw the shadow, just around the edge of the stone partition to your left. With a deep breath, you rounded the partition, expecting to find someone who could help you find your way back to the sanctuary, or maybe knew where you could find Father Lantom. That’s why what you did find felt like a lightning bolt to the chest.

“Matty?” His name barely a croak as it slipped past your lips. He’s sitting on a bed, more like a cot than a proper bed, one leg stretched out and the other hanging off the edge like he’s ready to get up at a moment’s notice. A braille Bible lies on his lap, but his head raises at the sound of his name. He’s not wearing his glasses and the sight of his beautiful hazel eyes alight and alive leaves you speechless.

“Y/N?” His voice is laced with confusion, guilt, and fear. He’s afraid of you? Then he’s on his feet, not moving towards you, just standing there, the Bible fallen closed onto the bed, forgotten. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I-I was looking for Father Lantom and I got lost and I heard a noise from over here so I,” you trail off, your brain racing at a hundred miles an hour. Silence is thick in the room before you manage the words “Matty what are YOU doing here?” He doesn’t answer, but his hand goes up to rub the stubble on his chin, clearly uncomfortable. You swallow before forcing the words out. “You’re supposed to be dead.” There, you said it. All these months and you’d never said it once, always just settling for ‘gone,’ not able or ready to face the finality of the word ‘dead.’

Matt doesn’t say anything, he just stands there, looking guilty, his hands fidgetting at his sides. You can’t handle the silence, it’s all you’d gotten for the last few months and you were tired of it, bracing yourself, you cross the distance so that you’re standing in front of Matt, looking up at him, trying to calm your racing heart. Matt’s alive and he’s here standing in front of you. And he looks like absolute shit. His hair is sticking up where he’s been running his hands through it, his face looks tired behind all the healing cuts and bruises, the way he’s holding his body tells you that he’s hiding more wounds under his clothes as well. Slowly, you reach out your hand, placing it on his chest, over his heart, feeling the solid beat under your palms telling you that this isn’t a dream, apparition, or hallucination, it’s really him, your Matty, alive under your hand. “Matty, say something, please.” You whisper, your hands trembling because as much as you want to throw your arms around him and sob, something stops you, because he’s alive, alive enough to stand, alive enough to lounge around and read, and yet here you are, months into mourning him, with no idea that he was here the whole time, alive.

Matt hangs his head, closing his eyes. “Y/N,” just hearing him speak your name feels like a piece of you is being put back together. “I’m not, I can’t,” He’s struggling to tell you and you reach a hand out to cup the side of his face.

“Matty, what is it? You can tell me.” Your voice is trembling, scared of what he’ll say but thankful that you get to hear him say anything.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, “I’m not coming back. As far as I’m concerned, Matt Murdock is dead. I can’t be him anymore. I’m not him anymore.”

Just when you thought that losing Matt the first time had been more pain than you would ever feel in your lifetime, he managed to rip your heart all over again even while standing here in front of you. “Matt, what are you talking about? You’re alive, you’re here. Why, why?” You’re confused and blabbering but you can’t wrap your mind around his words.

“Y/N, I can’t be a part of your life anymore, or Foggy’s, or Karen’s. I’m sorry.” He says like it’s something that simple, cutting ties and easily making a little bow at the end.

“What?” Your voice is indignant now, and you step back, taking your hands off of him. “What, no. No, you,” You laugh, the sound dry and harsh. “No, Matt Murdock, you don’t get it. You don’t GET it.” You shake your head in disbelief. “You don’t get to play martyr. Not with Foggy, not with Karen, and sure as hell, not with me.” To his credit, Matt flinches, but he doesn’t say anything so you plow on, months worth of pent up frustration coming out. “I did not get back the hell up so YOU could tell me to move on with my life. Not you, Matt Murdock. Three grief counselors, Matt, THREE. Maybe I should send you the fucking bill! Because, you know what they told me, Matt? They told me the exact same bullshit that you’re trying to sell me right now. ‘He’s not coming back, sweetie, he’s gone. He would want you to move on,’ and that’s all fine and dandy when you kiss booboos for a damn living but you?” You shake your head. “You have, NO right to tell me to move on.”

You take a deep breath when he doesn’t respond. “When you told me that you were Daredevil, I could see how much it meant to you, how much you needed it, so I didn’t push you away. Foggy and Karen, they asked me, how could I be okay with it? How could I be okay with the things you were doing? Do you know what I told them? I told them that I loved you and that if loving Matt Murdock meant loving Daredevil then I would love them both because they were the same person. One doesn’t exist without the other, Matt, and as much as it scared me every damn night, knowing that you may not come back, and how much I hated seeing you get hurt, coming home half-dead, I loved you anyway. And then,” Your voice caught, the words stuck in your throat. You realized that at some point, you had started crying, your cheeks soaked with tears. “Then,” you start again, “then that day, you didn’t come back. I thought I lost you, and you know what they told me? Those police officers, those counselors, our friends, they said ‘He would want you to be safe’ and here you are telling me that same bullshit, that you think that cutting me out is keeping me safe, so I’m going to tell you what I told them, ‘IF HE WANTED ME TO BE SAFE, HE’D BE HERE!’” You shout the last line, anger boiling up even as you see the conflicting emotions warring on Matt’s face. You should feel guilty for yelling at him, but you don’t. Shaking, you straighten up, swiping at your cheeks to clear away the tears. “So, when you’re ready to keep my safe, you know where to find me.” With that, you turn and walk back out into the hallway, when Matt’s voice calls after you.

“Straight forward, up the stairs, and right at the top and you should be back in the sanctuary.” You snort, but follow his directions, finding yourself in the sanctuary a few minutes later. You pause to stare at the altar and the crucifix hanging above it for a few moments before you turn and leave the church.

***

It’s been a week. A week of knowing that Matt Murdock is alive. It’s Wednesday again, but you can’t bring yourself to go to mass or even anywhere close to Clinton Church. You’ve battled every emotion possible in the last week, torn between wanting to never see Matt again wanting to race back to that church and beg him to come home, come back to you even if it was the most degrading thing you’d ever do. You usually take your Wednesday evenings off from work so you’re at home, attempting to read a book, but stuck reading the same paragraph over and over, your mind everywhere but on the words in front of you. A knock on the door startles you, you weren’t expecting company. You expect several of the usual suspects, Foggy with takeout to make sure that you’re eating and offering company even if you don’t want conversation, Karen with a bottle of something alcoholic and some half-hearted talk about a story that she’s working on, your nosey next-door neighbor with some fake niceties and suggestions of who you could use as a rebound amongst her friends’ sons. What you don’t expect is the all-too-familiar lawyer standing at your door, his usual suit traded in for a sweatshirt and sweatpants, his glasses back on his nose, hiding the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Matt.” You say, not sure what else to say.

“May I come in?” He asks and you step back, silently inviting him in as you return to your spot on the sofa, before standing up again, too restless to sit. Having Matt back in your apartment feels odd, all things considered, and you wander around before coming to the window, gazing out, to escape looking at him where he’s taken up your former place on the couch. “So,” he says.

“So,” you echo.

“I’m sorry.” The two words fall from his lips and hit the ground like a sack of bricks. When you don’t respond, he continues. “You were right, what you said that day.” Again, you say nothing so he breathes out and says, “you must hate me.”

That makes you sigh. You didn’t know what you were going to say to him, but now you have an idea. One of the grief counselors convinced you to start journaling and a few nights ago, you were watching one of your favorite movies and the final scene had struck a chord with you, so you’d played with the dialogue in your journal that night. Those words come back to you now as you recite them to the window, still unable to look at Matt. “I hate the way you worry me, and I hate your perfect hair. I hate the way you call my name. I hate it when you care.” You smile softly, turning slightly so you can see Matt out of the corner of your eye. “I hate your dumb red devil suit, and the way you hear my heart. I hate you so much that it makes me scream. More now that we’re apart.” Your fists clench at your sides and you turn a little more, your voice starting to shake as tears fill your eyes. “I hate the way you know me best. I hate it when you die. I hate it when you make me laugh. Even worse when you make me cry.” Your voice breaks for a moment and you swallow before you finish. “I hate the way you disappear, and that you never called. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” You turn all the way and find see Matt looking at you. Your fists relax and you fidget with your hands as Matt stands up, crossing the room to where you stand, wrapping you in his arms, soundlessly. You reach back, clinging to him like he’s going to disappear from your grasp if you don’t hold him there.

“I’m ready to keep you safe if you’ll let me.” Matt whispers into your hair.

“As Daredevil or Matt Murdock?” You ask with bated breath.

“Both.” He says and you hold him tighter than you thought was possible.

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x reader angst #daredevil x reader #netflix daredevil #daredevil #daredevil angst #charlie cox #matt murdock #matthew michael murdock #matthew murdock

274 notes · View notes

abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years

Text

Surprises- Elriel Multi Chapter

So yes Elriel again, I’m sorry but I’m trash for them:)

This is going to be a fic about teenage pregnancy, I will try my hardest to get everything as accurate as I can during this but if something isn’t right or I need to change anything do let me know!

Warnings: There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will updates warnings as I go if needed.

—————

Chapter 1

Gods above, he had barely even opened his eyes and he just knew that last night was definitely a mistake. Azriel was not, under any circumstances, going to allow Rhysand and Cassian to throw that big of a party again. Ever. Idiots.

Pain killers. Those would help, with a large dose of caffeine and a side of bacon. Lots of it. Walking across to the bathroom was harder than he thought it would be as everything seemed to be spinning. Az cranked the heat of the shower up high just the way he liked and began stripping while he waited. Only then did he realise that all he was wearing was a pair of boxers, yet these were not the ones he originally had on. The brute he called a brother was so very dead. He never forgot the events of a party ever, because he never got that drunk, but Rhys just had to bet him that he couldn’t do more shots that he could. He’d ask what happened when he could function as a normal human being again.

Azriel decided to clean himself up quicker than he usually would, still feeling too drunk to stand. Reaching up for his shampoo on one of the higher shelves had him letting out a hiss as pain radiated from his shoulders and back. Christ, what the hell had he been doing? Ignoring whatever it was he got back to the task at hand, and after about ten minutes he was stepping out of the shower, wrapping his towel around his waist. Waking over to the mirror by the sink, he turned his back towards it trying to get a look at what damage could have been infl—

Shit. Fuck.

Scratch marks. Stretching from the top of his shoulder blades, down towards the small of his back. It was there he found the crescent moon shapes that were dug into his hips. Mother above, what the hell had he done? Quickly finishing up in the bathroom he went back to his room to dress so he could go ask his shithead brothers some much needed questions. But as he walked past his unmade bed that’s when he spotted it; the spotting of blood on the sheet of his bed. Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

Azriel pulled of the sheets as fast as his body would allow, stopping off to put them in the washer as he made his way to the kitchen. His mind was still whirling with explanations for the already suggestive evidence as he walked through the door into the kitchen. Cass had his head down on the marble counter making small mumbling sounds while Rhys, the smug bastard, was just stood at the counter sipping from his coffee as if he hadn’t pushed himself to a near blackout the night before. Nesta Archeron, Cassian’s girlfriend and older sister to Feyre, the love of Rhysand’s life- or so he said -stood over the stove cooking eggs and bacon. God bless the scariest woman alive.

“Where did you wander off to last night, brother?” Rhys said as Nesta handed him an over flowing plate of food he would no doubt demolish in seconds. “Yeah,” this time a mumble from Cass “one minute you were all smushed up and chatting with Lainy in the corner, the next you were both walking up the stairs.” He remembered someone trying to start up a game of spin the bottle but having always hated that game, he decided he’d disappear upstairs for a while but as he turned to leave- yes, he was with Elain. She had looked uncomfortable at the thought of having to interact so he offered if she’d like to ditch and they could go hang out in his room or something. They knew each other because their siblings were dating but didn’t get the chance to ever speak really, this was his chance to learn more about her and hopefully make her feel a bit less awkward. Az recalled making it to his room, taking several different bottles of alcohol along the way. They spoke for a little bit knocking drinks back as they went. He was vaguely aware of them going to the bed to watch TV, a head on his shoulder and the very strong sent of roses. Hands were moving and there was a gasp as he turned his face towards hers.

And that’s when a memory hit him.

Panting breaths in his ear. Warm lips on his. Hands on his shoulders, his back, and then a sharp stinging sensation followed by overwhelming pleasure. Everything felt warm and soft and so gods damn good he didn’t want it to end. There were small whimpers to which he asked with a heavy strain in his voice, “Are you alright?” He got a small nod and then a small soft voice breathed “Yes. I promise. Just go slow.”

Someone waving their hand in front of his face, clicking their fingers, brought him out of his memories and he looked to see Nesta glaring at him. “I’ve been trying to ask you how you want your eggs for at least five minutes an answer would be good now, or I’ll let you starve.” He swallowed, trying not to get on her bad side and replied with “Sorry Nes, uh scrambled please?” She just nodded and turned back to the stove while Cassian just seemed to watch her with a dreamy smile on his face. He could still feel all of the sensations from that memory as if it was happening now. Azriel already thought he knew what had happened but he tried to push it to the back of his mind. This could not be happening. He tried to make his brain work and tell him how that situation could have even happened but he came up with nothing, absolutely nothing. Rhys was still watching him, waiting for an answer to his previous question so Az pushed back against the raging thoughts of his mind and replied “Elain needed to use the bathroom, but she mentioned that idiot Graysen had been watching her all night and didn’t want to walk up there alone, so I walked her there to keep him away if he tried to follow.” The lie was easy enough and it stopped the death glare he was being given by Nesta at the idea of him taking her sister to bed. He’d overheard Feyre and Nesta talking about the stupid twerp a few times and that he’d always had this fascination with Elain. He was screwed if Nesta found out the mess he was slowly coming to terms with. So fucking screwed.

Wait. What if she remembered and had left a note or a message or something? Making up an excuse of thinking he was going to be sick, he raced back up to his room, closing the door and started walking over to his bedside table. Picking up his phone, Azriel unlocked it to find no new messages. Sighing, he dragged his hand through his hair and let the thoughts take over. What if she didn’t remember? Or even want it? They had both been drinking and all of his memories were still so hazy. This brought another question into mind. Condoms. He didn’t remember any of the fumbling of using protection that usually occurred with previous hook ups either. Maybe they hadn’t gone that far then, and there was just a bit of fooling around, but that contradicted the bloody sheet. He never forgot to use protection. Not once.

He kept telling himself nothing happened, that he was imagining it because there was no way he could have just possibly fucked up his life, Elain’s life, right?

Fuck who was he kidding, he’d taken something that wasn’t his to take from a girl he rarely talked to unless it was something social, and he’d quite possibly had unprotected sex that could lead to a very messy situation. God fucking damn it.

—————

Love it? Hate it? Please do let me know, your feedback is greatly appreciated. If you’d like to be added to the tag list just say and I’ll make sure you’re in there for the next chapter😁 Chapter 2 will be Elain’s messy morning and discoveries😏

Tag list:

@bryaxisthefaceofnightmares (thank you for the beta read!)

@starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @marveil @fancyclodpaintercookie @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor

105 notes · View notes

strippermuffins · 4 years

Text

Monday Fairytale

“Shit, I’m short.”

Y/N glanced at the cashier of the bagel truck with a wry smile with just slightest hint of reassurance that she was in fact trying her best to not claw through her handbag just to make up the remaining fifty cents.

Fifty cents. That was how much she was short of. She felt every single penny wrap around her neck in a godforsaken noose— more so for holding up the line than not popping by the ATM to have cash on her.

“Ma’am, if you could just—“

“I got it, I got it,” she frantically replied, using up all of her pre-caffeinated sanity to sound composed even as the contents of her wallet screamed in desolation. “Just give me a second, I’m so sorry.”

“Lady, just step to the side,” a nasally complaint from certainly the man behind her— one that accompanied a scowl, she was sure— leered around her. Y/N would usually just shrug off the attitude. She lives in a big city. Absolutely no one has the time to be nice or patient, but she was panicking.

Y/N dreaded the thought that fifty cents might be one of the few things she would ever ask any figure at all pertaining a higher power. She had no time to beat any other rush hour breakfast line except this one.

“No, miss,” a voice embodying the euphoria that overtakes your forehead after a good painkiller replaced the commotion of impatient customers. “I insist. It happens, I’m happy to cover this for you.”

Y/N stepped to the side almost immediately just so she could have the foot space to turn around in pure amazement at the modern day angel who had just stepped in to declare his menial—but life-changing— philantrophy.

Before she could even utter a word of gratefulness, it seemed the cashier shared in her shock as the sharply dressed man next to her handed over a sizable stack of notes.

Gods above and devils below— he was stratospherically handsome.

Another moment of panic had set in as Y/N feared that she was in a dream and that she could be any way later than she already was for her meeting. She had seen her fair share of happiness and tragedies in this ancient metropolis, but handsome men in expensive office attire were strictly reserved for movies.

His medium grey shirt adorned each detail of his uncannily perfect upper body as if the tailor had a marble sculpture of the man to work off from. His stature was tied together beautifully with pants of a slightly darker shade that Y/N would not have been able to pin on a spectrum and a belt of which she had no doubt the morning sunlight must have drawn inspiration from.

“Hey, pal,” the same nasally voice shredded her momentary day dream, and she was now able to see that it in fact came from the scoundrel behind the subject of her Monday bliss— which in theory sounded oddly paradoxical. “I appreciate the chivalry but—“

“This should cover everyone, right?” The gentleman continued, politely swatting away the interruption like a pesky fly on a hot summer day. “Just give me that one over there. I’m good with that.”

Y/N hoped that he wouldn’t notice at all that she was still in pure awe at his abnormal generosity. The bagel line that extended close to the entrance of the apartment building nearby went from being annoyed at her incompetence to otherworldly charmed by this knight in Hugo Boss shining armor.

She couldn’t have seen the man politely handing over her order the next second as he excused himself from the line. Y/N could see that the cashier was still trailing her eyes in shock at the abnormality of wealth distribution on a godforsaken Monday morning.

“And this is yours, I believe,” the handsome man joked. Y/N chuckled softly as she took the paper bag from his hands and she could swear back and forth that he was magnetic. “Don’t worry about that guy. I have to get going now, though. Have a nice day.”

Y/N could have sworn he lingered his gaze on her just a little longer. It seemed that her manners had gone silent, but before she could part her lips just enough to say thank you— since a situation involving her slamming him against the lamp post in an impromptu makeout session wasn’t appropriate— he disappeared with one last smile into his chauffeured black Benz.

Y/N walked in pure awe towards her office building for the next few blocks as she both tried to demolish her meal without smiling too hard. This had to have been a fever dream or just that one instance in life when the cinematic universe bleeds over for corporate hamsters like her to feel less awful about their glass office prisons.

She hadn’t noticed that she was still smiling ear to ear until her manager, forcibly called Bang P.D of his own coercion and no one else’s, stopped her in her tracks.

“What the hell are you so chirpy about, sunshine?” He snapped, lumping a stack of paperwork right on her desk. The coffee in her hand would have met the floor had she not resumed her usual Monday dread.

“Nothing,” Y/N muttered, shoveling the stacks to her end of the table. “Just in a good mood.”

“Hopefully that carries on in the meeting later,” he scoffed, turning his heel to exit her office. “If you don’t get Kim Seokjung to sign on with us, you can get acquainted with the water cooler again.”

Monday morning was never properly settled without an empty threat from Bang P.D. Y/N was almost grateful that her fairytale bliss was disappearing. Smiles are rarely ever genuine in corporate and she hated to kid herself.

Y/N was never going to see this guy again. He probably had a woman waiting for him to be a million times more chivalrous to that he had to rush to see. She was just a lucky commoner caught in the threads of his charming web.

She had underestimated the bliss, really. It trailed her to the meeting room shortly after and the mile high view of the park and skyscrapers below only heightened her little euphoria. The rich— especially the handsome bunch— really do know how to capture the commoners by the heartstrings, it seems.

“Wipe that glee off your face or Bang P.D will do it with his forced overtime, Y/N,” Nayeon, her co-worker and the closest concept she has to a friend in this lonely city, pinched her gently. “Seriously, some of us are miserable. Kim Seokjung is a dickhead and if he cancels today, it will be the third time.”

“Someone paid for my bagel,” Y/N whined, glancing at Nayeon with a small smile. “And for everyone else in line as well.”

“Crack? Is that what you do, Y/N?” Nayeon hushed, shooting her an affectionate yet snarly glare. “That literally never happens.”

“I’m telling you it did,” Y/N insisted, keeping her expressions as complacent as possible as her colleagues began to take their seats. “Though remind me to never go to Riley’s again. What kind of food truck doesn’t take cards these days? After a pandemic too.”

“One that actually makes good food, dumbass,” Nayeon retorted, shaking her head softly at her friend. “You got lucky this time.”

“Yeah, well. I’m hoping the good karma carries on so Bang P.D doesn’t chain you and me all week for fucking this deal up.”

“Way to go. Keep your spirits alive, Y/N. You can do that for a bagel but not a deal that could help you move out of that prehistoric relic.”

“My place is exceptionally tasteful. Excuse you!”

“By that you mean derelict and musky— and not the good kind! You just willingly walk up five stairs. Couldn’t be me.”

The girls laughed among themselves for the few seconds of fleeting happiness they were allowed. Nayeon was right. If Kim Seokjung bails and chooses another PR firm for his book tour, Y/N would for sure become acquainted with the water cooler and the staff room dish rack. She was the one who brought him on to try and make a name for herself, but it seemed she had not picked the right old money know it all with an out of touch book and too much dough to blow.

“Look alive, ladies,” Bang P.D snapped his fingers towards them. Y/N had gotten over the disrespectful threshold. She wasn’t a human in his eyes anyway. “He bailed again. His brother is filling in.”

And neither Y/N or Nayeon knew. The girls turned to face each other in pure panic as they had not been notified prior. The fear in their eyes seemed to inquire which of their incompetence allowed for this to happen.

“Chill,” Bang P.D continued. “I didn’t know either. He literally called in just this morning. I’m just ready to wrap this over with. Kim Seokjung could send his damn poodle at this point.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint, then.”

All the heads in the room collectively whipped around to behold the owner of the apologetic statement. Y/N gulped as her eyes widened like saucers at the sight of the handsome man who took care of the bagel rotting in her stomach.

“No fucking way,” she thought to herself, the realization blaring in her eardrums.

Kim Seokjung had a brother and he was the man who gave the cashier at a bagel truck a stack just to make time move faster for him. Kim Seokjung had a brother who was punctual and funny.

“Tiki, his poodle, would make a better co-signer than me, but I was told you needed a human,” he continued.

A soft laughter roared through the room, and Y/N giggled to herself simply because she had never seen Bang P.D panic before.

So much so that she almost didn’t take notice of the handsome man locking his gaze with her briefly— as if he too was pleasantly surprised to see her again. She didn’t know if she was just adamant to get it all over with, but she held his gaze long enough to whisper a soft thank-you-for-this-morning to the multimillionaire bagel philanthropist north of her seat.

He shook his head as if his gesture was just so normal in his routine, and Y/N swore he kept his eyes on her long enough to ignite just a faint hue of blush on her cheeks.

Nayeon swiveled her focus back and forth from her and the handsome man. Y/N knew that she must have figured out the whole ordeal because she slumped in her chair and rolled her eyes with a smile.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” the handsome man gave a name to his otherworldly existence. “You probably haven’t seen me around at all because I like to sort of manage in the background, but I would just like to apologize for my brother’s previous tardiness. Truly I’ve tried all my life and still can’t contain it, so I will fully sign once and for all today. The proposal is excellent. May I know who initiated it?”

“She did,” Nayeon perked, directing his gaze yet again towards Y/N. “All of it. Her name is Y/N.”

Bang P.D looked both dejected and furious that he even pinned all of the responsibility on her. Y/N could only manage a small smile as she nodded and affirmed her work.

“Very well, then,” Seokjin nodded, uncapping his fountain pen as she glanced at her for every dotted line he glided his name across. “Am I able to discuss more about the terms with you after this meeting, Y/N?”

“She would love to,” Nayeon interjected once again, to both the dismay and gratefulness of Y/N of course. “In fact I think she could benefit from someone who listens. She doesn’t get much of that around here. Hah.”

Hah. Nayeon made sure to always end every valid observation as a joke as nobody else in the office understood her brand of snarky humor as well as Y/N.

Y/N was simply just overwhelmed with relief that her gamble had paid off in the best way possible that it was even hard to accept so much satisfaction with her work. It didn’t come from Bang P.D and she wws all too grateful for that.

“She’s right,” Y/N finally spoke. “I could go over the clauses after.”

Y/N could feel Nayeon’s deadpan that’s-it from beside her. Y/N wasn’t as brave as Nayeon. She wasn’t some old money graduate who could treat this job like a past time and get away with so many snarky remarks. Even in the face of a literal old money angel, she had to be professional.

“Okay, well,” Seokjin dropped the pen back into his shirt pocket. “Meeting adjourned now, yes? I apologize once again. If not me then I’ll make sure my brother enjoys your consideration.”

The staff could not wait to wrap up their supplies upon the dismissal, and Bang P.D practically pulled Seokjin up by his shoulders just for a handshake. Nayeon had joined the rest of the crowd as they shuffled out of the office, and once Y/N could catch that heart fluttering gaze of his again, she mouthed she would be right in her office whenever Bang P.D was done with his overwhelming gratefulness.

Seokjin knocked on the glass in the same manner a confident yet slightly timid schoolboy would on his way to make an impression with his crush. Y/N was sure he had swindled many like her before, but there was an air of genuine intent surrounding him as he made his way to sit in front of her.

“I hope you had a warm welcome,” Y/N began, glancing over to the side for a split second to see Nayeon looming over with a coffee mug in her hand and an encouraging brow raise.

“I sure did,” Seokjin replied, his hands individually and politely resting on the arm rests. “It’s not everyday I try and help a beautiful woman and I see her later with a manager that would have liked me to be a poodle.”

“Well,” Y/N continued. “It’s not everyday I meet a bagel enthusiast somewhat bent that I wrote an astounding PR proposal. So much so he has to see me alone.”

Seokjin shook his hand and still so politely laughed at her professional dismissiveness. If he was marvelously gorgeous at ground level, he was hard to not melt at the sight of on the 60th floor. Y/N had no idea Kim Seokjung had more to offer than tardiness. She was entirely too grareful he never showed up.

“I am quite serious about that. Thank you for seeing the potential so many others turned down. I know he’s my brother and I’m almost always inclined to be biased, but with you and your team on our side I think I will perhaps sleep better.”

“Why is that so?”

“He’s not exactly easy to make likable. I don’t like him most days.”

“I have a strong bias and inclination that you are the opposite most days, Mr Kim.”

“Most days, Miss Y/N?”

And if Nayeon had instilled anything in her at all, it all boiled down to this next tongue-in-cheek catch.

“All of them if you’d like to hear that.”

Seokjin clasped his hands together gently and eagerly leaned forward as if there was no one on earth he would rather speak to but her.

“And would it be formal of me to formally invite you for dinner with me tonight whenever you and I can meet as Jin and Y/N?”

“I—,” Y/N was struggling to meet his eyes as confidently as she had been prior to this romantic proposition. She wanted badly to say yes, of course, but Y/N was never someone who approached flirtation with her brain. It was always with her issues, and she could feel his warm gaze dropping ever so slightly at her clear hesitation. She did not want him to think he was rejected, but she had herself to think of first.

It wasn’t entirely rushed that he had signed the proposal so quick. Her firm had been delayed a few times that everyone on the team, including the janitor, could recite the clauses by heart. Nayeon and her had a firm plan to approach everything. She was well within her professional competence and his interest in her came out of a kind curiosity than forcible persuasion.

Her work was very, very unlikely to be interrupted. Seokjin approved of the terms and expressed his satisfaction prior to knowing that it was her who drafted it. He really was unequivocally interested in her for her and whatever enticing demeanor she radiated from the bagel instance until now.

So why was she hesitating so much? Even if all societal connotations were eliminated, it would not be so abnormal for her to just say yes.

“Y/N, you know exactly why,” the voice in her head interrupted, causing her eager smile to hang onto her hesitation just a little longer.

She had seen many hopeful interns and young professionals walk to their cubicles looking dreary and defeated beyond just corporate dread too many times. She and Nayeon have had to push past the lines at the clubs and rescue one too many dreamy-eyed youngbloods trying to fix their broken hearts by killing their livers.

However, it seemed that Nayeon in this current moment had every intention to murder Y/N in broad daylight if she didn’t agree. She had figured out the situation from meters away and threw a deathly, coercive scowl towards Y/N as her claws sunk unintentionally into the forearm of an unsuspecting male intern.

“I will kill you,” Nayeon mouthed, scrunching her lips as she urged Y/N to agree— a feat Nayeon had never shown before due to her unassailable distaste for the male species.

But Nayeon was from the same old money circle as Seokjin’s. She had to have known a few things Y/N could never grasp.

Even more simple than all of this mental gymnastics— her heart tugged at the sight of him. He was a hopeful boy shooting his shot at a girl he was interested in.

“Well...” Y/N began, relaxing her shoulders as she pushed her chair further. “I work very hard so I most likely won’t be too cute when I get off, but does 8pm work for you?

“8pm has never worked better,” Seokjin sighed in relief as if he had been hanging onto every breath that she drew. “Please come as you are. I’ll be happy to see you however.”

The content on his face was paramount. The kind of happiness for someone who anticipated a rejection but was grateful the universe ended up on their side. Y/N wondered if a man Seokjin ever got rejected before, and if he has then it had to have surely been someone who eclipsed her in terms of... well, literally everything.

This led her to a train of doubt Nayeon had taught her not to have. Why was Seokjin even interested in her? And why in god’s name can she not put a finger on where she had seen him before? He looked far too familiar and it was an observation she had not deduced prior.

If all rich and handsome men shared the same features, Y/N thought Seokjin had the créme de la créme.

Y/N hadn’t noticed that he seemed to have snapped out of his own daze of being entranced with her, much to her own surprise. He uncapped that marvelous fountain pen again and handed it over to her alongside his business card.

“Please give me your number,” he requested, looking once again nervous and Y/N once again wondered why. “I want to let you know I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

Y/N couldn’t help but relax her shoulders and laugh endearingly at his wonderfully timid disposition. She took the pen from his hands and touted quietly to herself that her number had never looked more beautifully written. Seokjin took his business card from her and gently put it back into his suit pocket alongside the pen.

“I wish I could look at you longer, Y/N,” he spoke softly, his shoulders hunched eagerly forward in the same manner as when he asked her out. “But I’m horrifically late for my next meeting. I’ll pick you up in the lobby at 8pm.”

“You best get going then!” Y/N blurted, not really wanting him to leave— if at all— but rather out of worry that she might be a minor inconvenience. Even if the younger brother of the richest family in Seoul had just asked her out.

Seokjin dropped his smile ever so slightly at her accidental dismissal, and Y/N shook her head like she had never wanted anyone to think otherwise so badly.

“No, no,” she insisted, chuckling softly at her own insolence. “I mean, I can’t wait to see you as well. I usually don’t agree often if at all, but the pandemic is over. Might as well take a chance, right?”

Y/N could see that Nayeon’s jaw had dropped in pure shock at what had just exited her lips. It was as if she could detect the curtness of her words from across the office. Call it a best friend’s intuition.

“Oh, if she’s not gonna kill me, she’ll at least strangle me for this,” Y/N thought to herself, hoping Seokjin at least found her dryness somewhat humorous.

It was if the heavens listened to her because he too started laughing as his gaze lingered on her the whole time he left his seat and walked slowly towards the door.

“I promise I’ll let you know more when I see you again, Y/N,” he wished her well, his smile reaching his eyes as they twinkled towards her. “Until then... have a day as beautiful as you are.”

Before another word could exit her lips, he bowed ever so slightly and left with his bodyguard by his side. She hadn’t even noticed that the guy was there, but she did notice the lingering gaze on Seokjin’s face even as he headed towards the elevator. She could not help but display the same hopefulness to let him know that she too couldn’t wait as well.

When his marvelous stature disappeared in the elevator, Y/N had never wanted to work harder just so the hours could fly fast enough until she could look into those capitative brown eyes again.

What else could have wanted to tell her that it was best saved for later?

36 notes · View notes

in-my-head-i-do-everything-right · 4 years

Note

Prompt: Basically the entirety of “I wanna be yours” by Arctic Monkeys but more specifically “secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought, maybe I just wanna be yours

secrets I have held in my heart, are harder to hide than I thought. maybe I just wanna be yours

In October, while she’s still riding the high of absolutely demolishing Greg Dewey in mock trial, she finds out that the hot guy who’s always standing outside the library after her 3 PM post mock trial coffee break was the one who said that shitty thing about her sister two years ago while walking out of a debate competition—a competition Allie is ninety percent sure he won, by the way. And sure, he looks hot as fuck leaning against that exposed brick in his Tom Ford coat. Which, arguably is his right. To look hot. But, still.

He said the shitty thing about her sister. Allie’s still a little pissed about that. Which is her right.

“You’re Harry Bingham, right?” she asks, just to make sure. God, his name is so… Waspy. Pure Wasp. Bingham. She’s bets his family came over on the Mayflower. She bets they’re proud of that.

He smirks down at her. Smirks. He literally smirks. “Who’s asking?”

She can’t get over the smirk. Like, is it hot? Yes. Is she incredibly annoyed at him already? Big yes. “Who do you think is asking?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his coat. It’s a really nice navy. Allie’s honestly a big fan of the coat. “If you’re asking…”

“It’s a yes or no question,” she snaps, her arms flailing a little, her coffee sloshing around in her cup. She paid five dollars for it from the student run coffee shop and she doubts it was at all worth it. But she made a promise, okay? A promise to her sister that she’d support small businesses. Which has pretty much only meant stopping with the daily Starbucks, but Cassandra doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, I’m Harry Bingham. Why?” How was that smooth? No, Allie would seriously like to know. How did he make that sound smooth? How is that possible?

“Did you do debate in high school?”

His brow scrunches. His head tilts. He still looks hot. “Why—”

“Another yes or no question.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, carefully, like he’s trying to figure out where this conversation is going in real time, “I did debate in high school.”

She smiles. It’s not a proper smile, more of a half-smile. A smug smile? Doesn’t matter. “Great. Do you remember Cassandra Pressman?”

Harry’s face lights up briefly, probably with recognition. “Yeah, I remember Cassandra. She’s hard to forget. Very… intense.”

“Well,” Allie says, stretching out the word. God, she hates men. “I’m her sister, and from what I can remember, you said some pretty shitty stuff about her, and were, just in general, a complete and total asshole.”

“Excuse—”

“A misogynistic asshole, actually. And you know what, this coffee is shit anyway so—” In one fluid movement, an honestly graceful movement, a movement that Allie is—no matter how disappointed she knows her parents will be in her—proud of, she dumps her shitty five dollar coffee all over the front of his Tom Ford coat.

He lets out this pained sounding gasp that half resembles a mess of curses, and she walks away victorious and mostly guilt free.

Two hours later, he follows her on Instagram. She does not follow him back (even though she thinks about it because… hot dude), and that feels really good too.

With a start like that, they shouldn’t make it anywhere. Still…

In November, she runs into him in line at the student run coffee shop. Which just furthers the point that she needs to stop going there.

“Allie Pressman,” he says, and if he wasn’t so hot, so might be a little creeped out. But, also, she does know his name. So maybe they’re even?

“Hi,” she says, semi-awkwardly. About as awkward as can be expected when you run into the guy you dumped a whole coffee on. Also, turns out setting was not what was making him so attractive. No surprises there, but still something to take note of.

“Thought you said the coffee here was shitty.”

She purses her lips. “Well, I have Pfeiffer this semester, so while the coffee here is,” she lowers her voice just a little. God, she loves being dramatic, “incredibly shitty, I definitely need the caffeine.”

“Oh,” he visibly winces, “sorry about Pfeiffer’s class.” And, then, just before they reach the front of the line, “Let me buy you a coffee? To make up for the fact that you will be getting very little sleep this semester?”

She tilts her head to the side. Who the fuck is this boy, and how much is he willing to spend on coffee? “Shouldn’t I be the one buying you coffee. Because… well, you know.”

It’s a half-grin half-smirk this time. And it is, arguably, much more disarming. “My friends and I have taken to calling it The Incident,” he supplies, and oh he’s funny too. Fuck.

“Sorry about that, by the way.” She is not, in fact, at all sorry about The Incident. However, Hot Guy (he does have a name, and she does know said name, but… well) is about to buy her a coffee, and judging by the Rolex on his wrist, price does not matter.

He shrugs. “I had it coming. And I’m sorry about the shit I said about Cassandra.” Allie’s mouth doesn’t necessarily fall open, but it almost falls open, and that counts for something. White boy admits he made a mistake. This is first page news. “I was stupid and upset and probably a little high. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to.”

He levels her this easy grin. This content grin. This… I am one step ahead of you grin. “I messaged your sister on Facebook a very lengthy and somewhat heartfelt apology a year ago.”

They are officially at the front of the line. Allie does not care. “Cassandra hasn’t checked her Facebook since 2018.”

“That sounds like a her problem.”

Allie ignores that. “Hi,” she says to the cashier. “I’ll have a large caramel macchiato with two shots of espresso please.”

Harry looks equal parts disgusted and appreciative. And a little bit concerned. Which is valid. “Small black coffee for me.”

“And can I also get one of those brownies, and two of those turkey shaped sugar cookies,” she turns to him. Spending someone else’s money on food is fun. “Don’t they just look so cute?”

“Yeah,” he says, sounding amused and looking way too endeared. “They look very cute. You plan on sharing with me?”

She should not be playing along with this. “Maybe.”

He follows her outside, catching the door and holding it open for her. It’s raining, which sorta sucks, but she has no plans on actually sitting down with this boy. That feels like a step too far.

Only, then—“My place is just around the corner,” he says, so fucking casually. And, God, how is she supposed to respond to that? “I’ll trade you one of those cookies for my notes from Pfeiffer’s course.”

Her heart is about to beat out of her chest. This is not good. “You paid for the cookies.”

“I know.”

Fuck.

“Okay, let’s go to your place.”

They have sex five times over the course of a week before her conscious tells her to stop. Then, she tries avoiding him for the rest of November but gives up two days after Thanksgiving. Because she’s not immune to anybody who calls to offere her left over pumpkin pie, okay. Fucking sue her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she says right off the bat, and he lets out this laugh that involves him throwing his head back. And that shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and she should not be feeling this warm inside because it is literally snowing right now.

“Where should you be, Pressman?”

“Studying for my polisci midterm.”

He continues looking at her way too fondly. Her cheeks flush a pale pink. She blames the change in temperature. “You have Craven?”

“Yeah.”

He does this little waving motion that is much hotter than it should be. One day she will find a thing he looks unattractive doing. Today is not the day. “Don’t even worry about it. Easiest test I ever took.”

“I should still probably be studying for it.”

He shakes his head, and that makes her laugh even though she very much does not want to. “You seem pretty smart. Don’t worry about it.”

That was… comforting.

“You know, I kinda like what we have going,” he says, and nope her heart should not be beating anywhere near as hard as it is. Is she having a heart attack? Oh, God, is she about to die? Is she about to die in Harry Bingham’s apartment? Cassandra is going to be so disappointed.

“And what exactly is this that we have going?” she manages to get out. Yeah, Allie can practically taste Cassandra’s disappointment.

“Eating baked goods and having sex. Obviously.”

She chokes on her bite of pumpkin pie.

“So if you wanna get dinner sometime…” he continues, as though she is not choking right in front of him.

She manages to dislodge the piece of pumpkin pie in her throat. If that shit wasn’t so fucking delicious, she would be swearing it off right now. “Would you be paying?”

He looks surprised. That counts as a victory. “Yes?”

“Then no, I’m good.”

“Why?” he asks, just a little too quickly, and, yeah, his composure is entirely gone, and they are once more on an equal playing field. Arguably, she might have the upper hand right now. Which is nice.

“Because that sounds a lot like a date, and I do not want to date you.”

To his credit, he only looks sort of hurt. She takes another bite of that pumpkin pie. Who cares if it might kill her. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my sister’s high school debate rival, and that just feels a little too it’s a small world for me.”

“That’s a shitty excuse.”

“But it’s a valid one, isn’t it?”

“No, not really.” Well. At least he’s being honest.

“Look, Harry.” First name and everything. This is called progress. “You’re nice and all—really great baked goods—but Cassandra would give me that disappointed face if it ever came out that I’m… associated with you. And, honestly, I can’t handle that right now. Mentally—nope. Not happening.” She sounds flustered. She feels flustered.

“Okay?” She is taking that answer as a win.

“Great!” Too bright. “Hopefully we can stay friends? Or at least the type of acquaintances who buy the other fun shaped sugar cookies and give them the notes to classes so they have a chance to not fail.”

He stares at her, a bit like he doesn’t think she’s real, like he’s marveling at everything that she is. That or she has pumpkin pie crumbs all over her face. And, then: “Actually,” he starts, and oh God, this is not going to go her way is it?

“What?” she says very slowly.

“You know what?”

“What?” She repeats.This is already getting annoying.

“You know what’s hot?”

“What?” (But with additional fear this time.)

“Secret relationships.”

Oh. Oh Fuck.

She doesn’t have an argument for that.

Honestly, that’s probably the moment that it all starts.

send me song lyrics and a pairing and i’ll write you a drabble

#lol i doubt this is what you wanted #so i'm sorry abt that #this also Does Not address the prompt #i kept telling myself that it would #nope #never happened #this is more the start to a very long and somewhat angsty fic about them in a not-a-relationship relationship #but then i got bored #maybe i'll finish it one day #(also. to the person who just sent all those folklore lyrics. i see you. and i cannot wait to write angst.)#hallie #the society #drabble

10 notes · View notes