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loverboykirstein · 2 months ago

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biting the bullet // kinktober pt. 4/5

sam (sdv) x afab! reader

wc: 7,574

mdni -> warnings: mentions of addiction/neglect/throwing up/mental illness, unprotected sex, breeding, possession

***“go. whatever happened, whatever-“ he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “whatever happened, fix it. go-” another sigh, covering up his lack of words. “you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own,”.

you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own.

you did break his heart, right?

you..

a deep breath, the last swig from the bottle that had mixed with the night sky’s tears of solidarity.

on his feet, another deep breath for the road.

“samson, go,”.***

the mismatched pattering of his heartbeat in his ears began to close his throat, chest cavity torn apart by the weight of a passing phrase.

“can we do tomorrow? i’m taking them to the look-out on my bike tonight,”.

what..?

it was happening again. he let his guard down for just a moment, a fraction of a second, and his lungs and heart and every nerve ending were spilling out of his ripped apart being, invisible to all but him.

you..seb..? of course you want seb. everyone does. we each have a role, right? just like mom? like dad?

is there something that wrong with me? how do i atone for my sins in my past life to mediate the bullshit i’ve drug into this one? that’s the only explanation, right?

it followed him everywhere, a sick joke that didn’t even have a punchline. in its wake, it simply stole his soul away, piece by piece, a sick treasure hunt of trying to rebuild and rebuild and rebuild.

for what cause? to sit up and stare at his ceiling, snapping the rubber band on his wrist over and over and over again, a piss-poor attempt to calm himself down that never seemed to work.

what was he supposed to do? he hadn’t even been handed the short end of the stick, simply tempted with it like a dumb dog and locked in a collar for the rest of time as punishment for his greed.

the desperate, aching, bruising desire for a life.

to be more than a secondary, to figure out who he was.

to fall in love and not get hurt.

to begin to trust without losing his joints in the process, left a brittle mess of grinding bones at the end of it all.

to make the decision to live for himself, not for the need of the image of others.

to make it out of a war-torn cage, to never follow in his fathers footsteps.

to build a family that was wanted, unlike his.

he wanted that with you.

he never knew why he existed, or what the point was.

then he heard your laugh for the first time, handing him an extra maple bar you had made and he nearly collapsed at the life that made his fingers numb and filled his lungs instantaneously.

but now, quiet trembles rustled through his bloodied fingers, too busy taking out anything he could on anything he could.

near the edge of the valley, beyond leah’s quaint home lied a hidden little cave, behind bushes and trees and the occasional critter or two.

his blood stained parts of the exposed rock, the only thing he could hit without feeling bad. far enough away, no one ever finding him out there.

for no one to hear his violent sobs, his screams out to whoever was behind all of this, why, why, why. over and over and over, prayers for a reason as to why things had to be this way.

but if he wasn’t home to set the table, his mother would lose her temper before the oven timer even rang. the sun finding its way back to the never-ending horizon was her queue, the so-called ‘acceptable’ time of day to numb the sorrow crawling near, pushing it onto the son she never wanted in the first place.

which left vincent to his own devices, luckily not alone, but he knew he wasn’t doing well, penny not focused enough on teaching, more on playing, as she glued herself to the novel of the day, explicit enough to be banned from the library entirely. in front of the kids? really?

so he would swallow his heartbeat, coughing up a stable voice through his constricted windpipe that built a facade good enough to fool just about everyone.

he sat on his floor for hours. the hum of the washing machine was echoing through the paper thin walls.

everything was else felt silent, felt quiet.

except the unrelenting grave digging itself wide open in the middle of his messy bedroom.

because things weren’t quiet. dad was fighting for god knows what, narrowly missing shrapnel with each breath.

mom was mixing pills and booze, manic-depressive in nature and waiting until the very edge before it was too late.

but the worst was knowing that you and seb weren’t being quiet. you weren’t asleep in your bed, cuddled up with your cat under a quilt and your childhood blanket held close.

you were clinging onto him, body pressed against his. sharing a spot of the world that he had only seen once, seeing the city ahead of him that he could barely remember being a part of.

the most he could remember was his childhood therapist, the only one who saw past his so-called laxidasical disposition and class-clown behavior. struggling with reading, a common case of adhd and anxiety all jumbled up inside of a first grader.

a hint of dyslexia, and the guilt of his mothers cries he could hear against the locked doors, mourning a life without children.

nothing a child should have to bear, tiptoeing as to not crack the paper thin ice that made up his floorboards.

craving attention from the ones who created him, from the one who carried him in her womb.

father rarely around, making up for the lack of stability in the form of a paycheck and health insurance.

reprimand after reprimand, the only way to get his mother to look him in the eyes.

acting out as a cry for help, at validation, at fucking anything.

from the comedy covered pain, he learned to always know how to make someone laugh. to make sure they could exhale a little bit of whatever was holding them back, even if it meant that he had to let it settle in his lungs so it wouldn’t fall back into theirs one day.

he promised himself that he would never open up the small little lock on his exterior for anyone. ever.

maybe he didn’t notice, or maybe you tripped the wires first, but the alarm bells never rang. no emergency protocol, no swot team to barricade his entire being shut.

you left the door open, not even bothering to worry about the heat being on, letting all the cold air in.

or maybe you didn’t even know, the key hidden in the corner of your room, under your bed mixed with dust and other lost memories.

how was he supposed to face you again? he had planned on inviting you to the band’s first show, your excitement bouncing off the walls at the thought, when he mentioned the idea.

even though they only had a few songs, rough drafts at best, poor attempts at writing lyrics in an attempt to give abi and seb the spotlight.

also in fear, knowing someone would put the pieces together, that someone would connect the dots. that they would see the unrepairable shattered glass of his being behind it all.

that you would figure it out, never looking at him the same way again.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

weeks flew by in aching stretches, avoiding contact with anyone, his only bandaid over the wound. declining invitations that could maybe bring you close, making your laugh ring in his ears or the smell of your perfume that would replace his train of thought.

all his time spent sleeping, the sun becoming his worst enemy.

braving the light only upon vincent’s summertime pleas, just to lie and say that dad was okay, that there was nothing to worry about.

flickering his eyes between his brother and the beach entrance, hoping, praying, you wouldn’t appear behind him, or anyone for that matter. not strong enough to explain his absence, to explain the proverbial last straw that chewed up and spit out his barricaded soul.

you would stop by, questioning his mother on his wordless disappearance. she didn’t have an honest answer, blaming it on music school?

weeks turned to months, watching the seasons pass by. he couldn’t figure out why it hurt so goddamn bad.

trying to process two decades worth of grief, wrapped up in his dna as he grew inside his mothers unwanting body.

every effort, every last ditch grasp with a mildly politically incorrect joke, another brick laid on his wall of lies.

why did this become his downfall? the dramatic, be all end all suffocating downfall.

what did his subconscious craft while he wasn’t fixing up the cracks? too busy lost in your stories that filled him with a mix of worry and thrill all at the same time, the small scrunch of your nose, and the way you bit your lip when you lost your train of thought.

two weeks after the attempt harvey made to check up on him, to ‘have a talk’, a government letter arrived through the mail slot on the door.

kent was coming home. dad is coming home. dad is coming… home..?

arriving in a week, realizing he had a week to build the wall back up.

to rid his eyes of the rubbed-raw corners, saltwater leaving a red hue around his lashes.

to cover up his sullen cheeks, too fucked to get up and take care of himself beyond the minimum.

the hole in his chest mirrored the grave he had to step around when he got the courage to move, too deep and vacant to see the bottom.

he couldn’t figure out why you were the one to kick all of this off, you weren’t even that close? sure, friends who saw each other all the time, near habitual meetings that would worry the other when routines changed.

but you weren’t together, did he even have the right to blame you?

you didn’t cause every ounce of pain he had endured through the fabric of his life, you didn’t stitch pain into the pattern of his fingerprints.

but every goddamn thought came back to you. you, you, you.

all he fucking wanted was you.

it was pathetic, a childlike reaction to not getting something he made no effort to get. to try and make, to try and prove himself to you.

you were probably waiting for the next rain by now, already modifying your cabin to accommodate your soon to be husband.

FUCK.

the 7 letters managed to make him ill, rushing past the all consuming ending cornering him against his wall.

knees melting the cold tile, reaching to turn on the sink and the fan so that no one could hear him try and expel the hell of that idea.

that he would get to sleep next to you every night, he would want love songs about you, he would get the chance to see the most intimate parts of you and so much more.

everything sam wanted, gone. stripped away.

but it was never his to begin with, was it?

⊹ ࣪ ˖

a blur of days meshed together, world now sideways as a version of his mother he had never seen cleaned every corner of the house, paint chips repaired, hiding every dark secret she tucked away in his absence.

the dread made him want to hurl, want to really disappear. how was he supposed to face a version of his father he didn’t know at all?

two bags in hand at the doorstep, his mother and vincent sobbing in unison at their reunion. but he saw it. the visions in his eyes, the forced image of being alive was like looking in a mirror.

he didn’t know what to do. he was stripped of anything he ever knew. any hopes of his life ahead.

except his was lost in a real war, fighting for some sort of cause that came with a paycheck and praise and thank-you’s.

sam’s was a selfish mess, ruining himself over the idea of something that wasn’t real over a goddamn sentence.

a look of unblinking eyes, both bloodshot and sad, a nod of mutual understanding but also complete confusion.

kent wondering what went wrong with his eldest as he was gone, mouth running dry when he recognized the look plastered on his son.

a hot meal, the first real one kent had eaten without the threat of an air strike in god knows how long, mixed with his favorite beer he could finally share with his eldest.

despite the distaste, sam took the opportunity to drink, no reprimands on something that would make him feel less.

but it seemed to do the opposite as he stepped out into the pouring rain, clouds appearing out of nowhere as the sun took its leave.

letting the cold, wet air settle the heat of panic in his stomach, he jumped half to death when his father tapped his arm with an open beer bottle.

“take it,” kent tipped the bottle towards him, watching the rain patter on the glass.

he nodded, nearly losing his grip as he swung back far too heavy of a drink, not wanting to taste it anymore. it tasted like guilt, disappointment.

“kid, spill it. i didn’t stay alive to see the same look in your eyes,” kent’s demand knocked sam’s brain around in his skull, stunting his breathing and blacking out his vision.

“what?” he coughed, knowing it wouldn’t work worth a damn on his unhappy father, who seemed to already know what happened, yet equally clueless as he had never asked about sam’s feelings before.

“samson, c’mon kid. i-” he sighed, eyes tracking the rain on the porch make its way to the sidewalk. “i want to help you. i want to be a father, at least a friend. i realized that, alone out there. i can smell it on you, so talk,”.

a lingering, sulfur filled silence crushed his passageways, nearly collapsing into his father like a small child after scraping his knee on the playground.

‘i want to be a father’.

“look kid, if you don’t wanna talk, that’s fine,” kent leaned up against the painted exterior of what felt like a new home. “just, whatever it is, you can’t run away forever. it doesn’t wor-”

“I DONT KNOW WHATS WRONG WITH ME, DAD,”.

the first time he had ever spoken up to his father, that he had raised his voice.

a cracked voice still managed to let the sorrow spill, pooling over his lash line and mixing with the rain.

“i can’t fucking take it anymore-i-FUCK,”.

his syllables were broken, caught between desperate gasps for air in his first cry for help.

paper mache hands disappearing under the diluted salt, crouching down as if to save them.

“she’s-” his words barely coherent, choking up his pathetic admittance. “she’s probably already gotten that stupid fucking pendant god damn it all,”.

broken laughter, a mix of every feeling known to man, choked up with gravel and acid.

“i never fucking did anything about it, either,” running his arthritic bones through his sopping wet hair, he looked up at the man who had just been through the troubles of war.

real war.

not the emotional one, the near psychosis-like state of a few months passed.

“so do something about it,”. kent was cut and dry, the only way he knew how to cover up his heartache.

his eldest, the one he held the most guilt for, the most agony for. the one he prayed for every night, the one who was his first thought every time a bullet flew past a little too close.

he didn’t want to break, knowing that if his son watched him collapse at the sight, he would never forgive himself.

“what?” nothing more than a scoff, but a halt of accidental waterboarding at the gasps for air.

“go. whatever happened, whatever-“ he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “whatever happened, fix it. go-” another sigh, covering up his lack of words. “you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own,”.

you can’t claim a broken heart that you broke on your own.

you did break his heart, right?

you..

a deep breath, the last swig from the bottle that had mixed with the night sky’s tears of solidarity.

on his feet, another deep breath for the road.

“samson, go,”.

his fathers gruff tone, eyes sharp and stern sent his feet moving, running.

barely able to see in the dark, pouring rain, letting nothing but his burning blood carry his body to the place you called home.

i have to fix this i have to fix this i have to-

over and over and over again, repeating like a broken record, the only words left engrained.

even though you didn’t know that anything needed to be fixed, he needed to fix things for him. he couldn’t look at his father the same if he at least didn’t try.

soaking wet, hair in his eyes and catching on his tear stained blinks, out of breath and on your front porch.

the only shield left was your front door, metal handle illuminated from your porch light.

do it, you already got here, do it.

scattered shallow breaths from running turned to shaky heavy ones, raising his still-bruised hand to your wooden door.

two knocks, two seconds, two more. the way he always did before his self-inflicted imprisonment.

“sam..?” you rubbed your eyes, shocked awake by his unnerving knocks in the dark. “what are you-come in, you’re soaked,”.

you looked panicked, not bothering to worry about anything other than him being soaking wet and out of breath.

he took his sopping wet shoes off at your door, leaving them to sit on your porch next to your rain boots. with less than a passing second, you had disappeared and returned with a towel and a change of clothes.

“sam what the fuck-are you-” running around in your pajamas, a short pair of flannel shorts and a tshirt that nearly covered them entirely, turning the heat on and running a kettle on the stove, his drying eyes were too focused on you.

questioning why you weren’t out as late as you used to, knowing marlon had found you passed out cold on one too many occasions.

“y/n it’s-it’s fine, i uh-” he stood still, shaking his head as if to force himself to blink.

“go, go change before you freeze half to death in my house,” busy standing on your tip-toes to reach the top cabinet, barely able to grab the box of tea you kept specifically for him.

peeling his eyes from your strained calves and your ass peeking out of the bottom of your sleepwear, he hurried off the other way towards your bathroom.

the sight of your overly exposed legs was enough for him to twitch, his mind such a goddamn mess that he couldn’t really even remember what he was going to say.

suffocating in your perfume that had soaked into your walls, he forced his rain soaked clothes off his shivering body. the purple hue on his lips, aching joints.

hands on either side of the counter, flushed cheeks and sunken eyes, sam caught his breath, stealing any strength he could from the hardwood holding his hands.

i have to fix this. don’t be a fucking bitch. suck it the fuck up, you fucking moron.

hanging his clothes over the bathtub, towel still in hand, he caught sight of you pacing back and forth in your kitchen.

chewing on your thumbnail, something you only did when you were stressed. brows furrowed, only snapped out of your endless loop by the kettle whistling loud.

“better?” you asked, back turned to him as you poured him a mug full, adding a bag of his favorite tea from the traveling merchant in to simmer.

“y-yeah. thank you,” rustling his hair with the towel, worn and faded, trying to rid it of any extra sorrow carried inside.

“sit, mister,” you pointed at your couch, eyes stern almost like a mothers.

he did as he was told, slowly caving in on himself as he felt like a bigger burden than ever before.

“here, i’ll be right back,”.

gently handing him the warm blue ceramic mug, the one vincent had given you after you spent your afternoons helping him learn to read, the corners of your mouth turned up slightly at the lax in sam’s shoulders once his joints found warm relief.

grabbing a comb from under the bathroom sink, you came back wordlessly, floorboards creaking below your hurried feet.

in a matter of minutes, you went from fast asleep on the couch, tv paused from lack of activity when asked, cuddled up closely to your cat and your blanket, to wide awake and flustered, worried beyond belief.

you knew that kent had come home, and you had planned to introduce yourself in a few days, allowing him time to settle in.

rattling your skull was the fear that something horrid had happened, so bad that sam had run in the fucking rain to your cabin of all places after the endless era of radio silence.

“so,” you sighed standing behind him, a small shadow casting over him as your body blocked the light in your entry way. “you gonna tell me what the hell has been going on?”

your words were harsher than you wanted them to be, but fuck man, you hadn’t seen him in months, no matter how many attempts you made.

pulling his head back a little, you began to comb through his incredibly tangled hair, feeling him dissolve under the slightly bit of affection.

“can-can i ask a question..first?” his eyes were closed, mindlessly rubbing his thumb into his opposite palm.

“only, if you pinky promise to tell me everything after,”. you stuck out your pinky, and he didn’t hesitate to reach yours. locking in his fate, peeling away the plastic film that was the only bit of his shield still remaining, your fingers crossed and released as the promise was sealed.

“how are uh, how are you and seb?” it felt like blood came up as he spoke, riddled with sorrow filled expectations of what your response would be.

“what?” you hands stopped their attempt to comb through his tangled blonde mess, stunned at the question. “were..fine? have you not talked to him recently?”

huh?

“no i uh- no i haven’t. i thought you guys were like…”

“sam, you don’t think we’re dating, do you?”

you-

“you’re..not?” covering his face with his hands, trying to hold any bit left of him together.

“no? sam i-”. your breaths were deep, focusing all your downright confusion into releasing the knots through his hair.

“oh,”.

oh.

“alright, now that your speculations on my nonexistent sex life are over can you please explain why you are here right now?”

a black hole, all consuming, everything everywhere all at the same time. the inside of his skull, spinning, spinning, spinning.

“i um-fuck, im so sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry,”. leaning his head back, fully into your overworked fingertips, soaking in every ounce of touch he could.

“why are you sorry? sam you didn’t do anything, other than give me a goddamn heart attack,”.

how are you not mad?

how are you so casual about this?

“i-”

“if this is because of seb i swear to god i’m going to beat the shit out of you samson,” he could feel you shake your head in disbelief, as if he should have known or as if there was this big sign that was supposed to be placed in front of him that he managed to look right through.

“y/n, i-”

he couldn’t cough the words he wanted out, embarrassment flooding his entire being, shame mixing in at a searing rate.

he felt you silently leave, pulling his airways closed the further you went.

so pathetic, so goddamn fucking pathetic. cant even tell her, what am i doing-

“sammy, come back from whatever planet you're on please,” you were sat on the coffee table, knees touching his. two shot glasses in one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other.

you set them both on the table, filling them each to the brim. dark amber syrup, so foolishly innocent, burning its way all the way past your lips.

as if your voice didn’t make him dizzy enough, the liquor you kept on hand was always the strongest, outshining anything else he had ever had before.

“each shot, we each share something. okay?”

handing him his glass, clinking them together and kicking it back.

he winced at the burn, the warmth bubbling in his stomach.

he watched you drink it far too easily, better than you did the last time you drank together. your eyes, your soul looked tired, gone unnoticed in his own self-pity.

soon the heater was shut off, both of you warm enough from the poison seeping into mutual bloodstreams.

shot after shot, losing track in storytelling as he listened to you speak on your adventures in the newly found desert, all of the new weapons you learned to use.

how he had tried to teach alex to skateboard, his first time getting high, struggling to find any reason to talk about himself when you were sat in front of him, inches away.

he was simply infatuated, beyond infatuated, soaking up every breath to make up for lost time.

“oh! sammy, sammy,” you nearly whined, placing a hand on either one of his thighs. “will you pleaseee tell me where you’ve been all this time?”

your slightly jutted lip, flushed cheeks and steadfast grip on his legs froze his surroundings, eyes locked on your pleading heart.

just fucking bite the damn bullet.

“i-seb canceled on me, that night he took you to the lookout. and i-” he leaned forward, heaviest sigh blowing fear out of the way. “i realized i couldn’t handle that. i couldn’t handle you being with-”

“sam-”

“i couldn’t handle seeing you with someone else when all i ever wanted was you, i just,”.

“sam-”.

“i knew that wasn’t fair to you and i just, i didn’t realize how much i-”

guilt ridden words cut short, your liquor stained lips shutting his. entire body pushed into him, not even enough time for him to fully register what was happening.

is she..?

“you’re fucking stupid,” you pulled away for a moments time to mutter that to him, pressing your forehead against his. “it has been you this whole time, idiot”.

what?

“what?” his eyes forced rapid blinks, unable to process what you had just said, what you had just done.

“i-god damn it all sam LISTEN TO ME, i never went with seb that night, i wanted to do that with you,”.

shock was the only way to think of it, the world frozen on its titled axis as it listened to your confession, to his heart that was on the brink of collapse as it beat so hard it shook the ground.

a few short stutters, words falling flat. months of self-imposed torture, losing everything he knew, breaking his father’s heart, really was selfish, too scared to do anything.

if he had swallowed his fear, faced the music, done something, anything.

don’t let this get away. don’t fuck it up. don’t fuck it up.

lifting his hands from his awkward side, roughly placed on either side of your hips.

using a newfound strength, he pulled you from the table, right into his lap.

falling into his wordless surrender, you let your body collapse into his, legs straddled on either side.

your clothed cunt immediately rolled against his length, pulling all of the blood from his body to an aching throb under you.

addicted to the sheer desperation in the air, gravity itself forced your lips back together, making up for months of time apart.

feverish from the first touch, wildfire to a field of wilted grass, burning oxygen faster than it could be replaced.

each heavy breath another exposed confession, his grip pushing you into him even harder another apology for leaving you for so long.

tongues fighting for a chance at forgiveness, soaking up the words that were too hard to exhale.

he let out a soft whine at your separation, instant drop of his stomach as you pulled away from his bruised lips.

dropping your head to the side, he shivered under your heated breaths against the side of his neck. heartbeat nearly visible, your swollen lips pressed slow praises down, not leaving an inch untouched.

opposite hand keeping his jaw turned, you trailed your tongue back up, a smirk hitting your lips at the twitch you felt against your spread legs.

no permission, no hesitation, just a gasp from his aching lungs as you sucking a mark of sheer possession in the form of broken blood vessels. grazing your teeth along with your vampiric latch, leaving a bruise dark enough no amount of makeup could cover.

your hips now indented with the lines of his fingerprints, permanently etched into your skeletal structure.

“bedroom,” you whispered into his ear, sin coating your voice in blatant need.

body driven by nothing but lust, he stood from the couch as you wrapped your legs around him, one hand cupping your ass while the other was itching to open the door to a new life.

it was all happening so fucking fast.

you wanted him.

this whole time, you wanted him.

letting your head hit the plush of your bedding, he loomed over you with two devilish sparkles in his eyes.

one glistening as his broken heart glued itself back together, your touch ensuring that every piece was perfectly aligned.

the other shimmering in primal greed, suffocating any thought other than possession. to not lose the chance to keep you all to himself.

a needy look twitched in your jutted-lip pout, a wordless plea for him to take what was his this whole. time.

now fluid joints, unphased by the ache in his tortured hands, hooked under your shorts, no underwear in between.

warm fingers against exposed skin, the small bit of decency on the floor with one swift effort.

cold air hit your already wet cunt, a small trail of your sticky pleads following your clothing to the floor.

“can i..?” he looked up at you for a moments time, not wanting to lose sight of your glistening slit like his life depended on it.

you nodded, not letting the small voice of insecurity speak up before your aching heart did, unprepared for intimacy to this degree.

or intimacy at all for that matter.

a touchy subject, too used to getting hurt. leaving your life behind in the smog coated city, one night stands back in the poorly painted walls of your studio apartment.

you thought you knew what love was, the overwhelming panic, the world ending promises to be better, to be prettier, to be someone they wanted.

forcing the thought out of your mind, each synapse in your aching brain going fuzzy at the first swipe of his hesitant tongue.

it had been so long since you had been touched, too afraid to ruin a friendship in such a small town. to not overstep your place as the new addition in an already woven community.

too exhausted to do it yourself most of the time, the thoughts only settling in when it came to him.

a single brush of your fragile bud make your ears buzz, the sheer ache to feel it again, and again, and again.

silent prayers answered, waters tested, sam’s tongue writing apologies and months worth of confessions in your pooling slick, feeding him the first meal of his life.

placing your hand over your mouth, muffled whimpers replaced exhales, sharp inhales through your nose not providing nearly enough oxygen to your racing heart.

“don’t hide, pretty girl,” his slightly slurred voice stuck like honey, pulling your hand away without a second thought.

his plea a few octaves deeper, your walls clenching around nothing at all and with his drunken confidence.

like he would die of hunger if he strayed away any longer, you lost sight of him between your legs, tongue teasing your pleading hole.

“sammy please,” you couldn’t do anything but whine, a fistful of his hair in your shaking fingertips.

pushing his flushed face deeper, nose pressed against your clit, shoving his tongue in as far as he could.

muffled vibrations of his satisfied moans shook your core to near collapse, the slight movement of his nose making your legs quiver against the side of his head.

thighs increasing their strength, ensuring he couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to, the telltale that you were already on the brink of release.

the first of many, just the beginning to a man who would never forgive himself for leaving you for what felt like an eternity.

no time for warning, words broken into a mess of jumbled up letters, your salty-sweet slick flooding his overworked taste buds at an alarming rate.

nerve endings twitching, spine forced to endure repeated bolts of serenity with each spasm. all ten of his fingers bruising your thighs as he held onto them so tightly, a feeble attempt to keep you still until you rode out your first high of the night, your first in so, so long.

finally able to breathe at the weakening of your hips, legs shakier than you would have liked them to be. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, more than enough of you on him, and he loved it.

meeting your blown out eyes, you couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that bubbled over, dragging his long lost smile out of the dark with each little sound.

both hands covering your face, embarrassed, nervous.

how a man like him, so gorgeous, so gentle, would want a single thing to do with you, you didn’t understand.

hiding away your feelings for him for what felt like ages, heart shredded when he took his reclusive leave, without a word on why.

weeks spent spiraling, wondering what you did wrong, how you could fix what you didn’t even know.

“nuh-uh, no thank you,” his tsks were so thick, so heavy as he pulled both your hands away from your face, eyes softening just enough at the sight of your embarrassment.

“do you want to keep going?” question so very gentle, not assuming like you had always known.

and it was fucking hot.

a quick nod, a little shy at the urgency in your reaction, but needing him anywhere was all you could think of.

you watched him stand beside you, a better angle to strip himself of his clothes.

nearly drooling at the sight, you could have died and gone to the highest bits of heaven, and it wouldn’t compare to the feeling of him looking down at you with his hand on his cock, thumb tracing over his pre-coated pink tip, silver bar glistening.

oh fuck.

each scar that covered his arms, each muscle contracting with labored breaths, made a whimper fall out of you, like a bitch in heat.

“needy girl, aren’t you?” he climbed on top of you, urging you to sit up just a little so he could tear away the fabric hiding the rest of you. “haven’t been touched in so. very. long. huh?”

usually, patronizing teases would have angered you to the third degree, but it had you melting into his palms like ice cream on a midsummers day.

feeling his fingertips graze over your whole body, thumbs baaareely drawing circles around your nipples, another guilty whine for more, more of him.

“think you can take me without stretching ya out?” his demeanor turned a little cocky, nearly pulling a bratty remark out of you, just to run his tongue against your over-sensitive chest.

palming one tit, mouth fixed on the other, you nodded without thinking. a muffled ‘mhm’ and a handful of hair, pulling his fixated mouth away.

“tell me if it hurts, okay?” a sliver of seriousness caught in the bubbling excitement pooling inside his blood, you knew he really did mean it.

length in hand, he lightly traced his leaking head up and down your already swollen cunt, a small attempt at teasing you before he plunged inside your screaming walls, begging to pull him in and not let go.

both hitching in air through gritted teeth, holding onto the last molecule you could manage as he slid inside, so. goddamn. slow.

maybe in fear of hurting you, but really trying to gather himself at the sheer grip you had on him, regretting his own choice to not stretch you at least a little before letting his greed take over.

so warm, so wet, better than any drug he had ever taken, or ever would.

“s-sam, m-more, please?” you begged, batting your lashes ever so slowly to not give him a choice, but needing him so, so much deeper.

any sense of restraint lost as your pleading eyes surrendered to him, and who was he to say no?

he would never say no to you, not after what he did.

an obedient dog, snapping his hips into you, flush against you. knocking the wind straight out of you, only thing you could feel was him.

settling in, head dropping as he lost all of his strength, losing it all to restraining his urge to breed you right then and there.

“fff-fucking hell,” his sputters were whiny, causing a slight spasm around him. the sound of struggling, barely keeping it together drove you fucking. insane.

feeling full, feeling whole, wanting nothing more than for him to destroy you, molding your walls to the shape of him.

“sammy, please,” you shifted your hips slightly, pushing against his hip bones, brushing the sweet, sinfully sweet spot you don’t think had ever been reached.

his blacked out eyes, taking photos of the scene to never forget how goddamn angelic you looked under him, committing a cardinal sin.

white-knuckle grip on your sides, bruising your bone marrow with his desperate grasp.

jaw slacked, eyes locked on the mess of slick you coated him in, a slight clench in his jaw.

free of his chain link leash, a feral animal let free for the first time since its previous carnation, learning to live again.

focused on nothing else but you, your pleas for him to claim you, to mark up your insides far beyond recognition, begging for him at every breath beyond this moment in time.

his whimpers mixed with low hums and exhales with each violating thrust, veins pulsing, a sick smirk pulling on his lips as he ruined you.

instinctually squirming away, the urge of another trip over the edge already settling in, overstimulation hitting you like a bullet train without its lights on.

feeling the slight quiver of your legs against his hyperactive body, a hand released your side, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder without a falter in rhythm.

held hostage, you swore you could feel him in your chest as he fucked into you again, and again, and again.

hypnotized by the furrow of his brow, glossy lips swollen from his hyper focused bite, holding back his own profanities as he tried to hold back his own release, never wanting the moment to end.

if heaven existed, it was buried deep in your cunt, chest bouncing with each relentless thrust. it was the dig of your nails, grasping on to whatever they could.

it was your fucked out eyes, watering at the corners in desperate need, in submission to his every want, his every dream.

since that very first day, you were the thought at hand when he was fucking into it, edging himself for hours as punishment for thinking of you that way.

but your innocent glances, and hard to read gestures every friday, the time you wore a that dress, dancing along with abi at the flower dance.

taking the masculine role while dressed in a white skirt, a little too short for such a windy day, excusing himself to the depths of the forest.

back against an oak tree, knowing seb would come looking for him at any moment, and god did it excite him in such a twisted way.

he couldn’t fuck his fist hard enough to get the thought of taking you then and there out of his mind, flipping up your skirt and pulling your panties to the side.

making you carry his cum around all day, slowly dripping out of you as you spoke to his mother.

but this, the real thing, was better than any fantasy he could ever imagine, the sound of your sopping wet cunt pornograohically loud, each wall of your unpainted cabin holding onto your sobs for more, more, more.

hiccups caught in your throat, back arched and nails leaving crescent moon cuts in his arms as your second snap pulled him in harder, deeper.

watching you fall apart was the sweetest thing, spilling out onto your bedding as he refused to let up.

a dangerous game, knowing he was teetering on his own edge from the start.

“m-‘ya gotta let me know if this is gonna be-”, his words cut off by the purposeful squeeze of your walls, offering a raised eyebrow and your bottom lip bitten.

nearly knocking the wind right out of you, he flipped you onto your stomach, forcing you onto your knees.

“you think it’s funny, huh?” leaning over you to purr in your ear, only focusing on how empty you felt, needing his pierced tip beating the life out of your cunt.

“mm-no,” you shook your head, face red, pushing your ass into him just a smidge, hoping he would grant you your wordless wish.

a palm to your ass, red hot and stinging, a startled gasp slipping out as he lined himself up with your dripping hole.

without a warning, his hips were pressed against your ass, one hand forcing your arch deeper, the other holding your hip to keep you upright as he rammed into you.

mine, mine, mine.

over, and over, and over.

sobs of overwhelming everything spilled out of you, moans nearly cut silent by the permanent bruising to every inch of you.

sucking him off so well, pulling him back in with a force greater than gravity itself, his jumbled profanities mumbled under his breath only making it that much harder to hold on to reality.

“wanna-” stuttered breathing, feeling the twitch of his cock buried inside you flash like a warning sign. “wanna fill you up- m-make you mi-mine,”.

higher pitched, through clenched teeth, you had never heard a man so shattered, so beyond steady that his eyes blurred.

the most you could offer was the push of your ass against him, too close to your own unraveling again to remember a single word.

his hand slid from your hip to your swollen, battered clit, squirming against him as the warm pad of his middle finger matched his sacrilegious pace.

a matter of seconds is all it took, suffocating his overworked length that much tighter, too lost in your own ecstasy to feel the ropes of sin inside you, met with a loss of rhythm and short gasps for air.

a weak attempt to catch your breath, feeling him slowly relax inside you, blood making its way back to his shaking hands and overworked core.

releasing himself from your now relaxed grip, his fingers ran small circles on your back, delicate whispers that slowed your heart rate to normal.

drained, all the energy stored in the form of internalized anxiety depleted, no control over your emotions anymore.

a silent sob, tears of everything allowed to flow free at your relaxed inhibitions.

“shhh-shhh it’s okay, it’s all okay,”. he pulled you up from your knees, gentle fingers moving you to his lap.

head against his chest like a child, he rocked back and forth ever so slowly, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back his own tears at the sight of you upset.

what happened ? is she okay ? what-

“never-” your muffled words caught behind a screen of hyperventilation. “never run away like that again,”.

your heaving body against his, his heart paralyzed at the sheer heartbreak rooted in your syllables.

so goddamn mad at himself for bringing you to tears, but so fucking relieved that you wanted him to stay.

“i-” a tear stained hiccup, an attempt to bury yourself inside of him completely, “i thought you left and didn’t say goodbye,”.

she-she thought i would do that..?

“shhhh, no no no, i’m not going anywhere,” cradling your face, letting a small stream pool over his lash line. holding his breath enough to mask the sputtering spasms thrashing around in his chest. “i would never, ever, do that to you. i promise,”.

“pinky promise?” you pulled your face away from his chest, blurry eyes meeting his. raising your fragile hand, awaiting his interlocked promise.

“pinky promise,”. interlocking without hesitation, pressing his forehead against yours.

“will you stay tonight?” body running cold, the fear of him leaving settling in your stomach, overtaking the bubbling acid.

“i will stay with you forever if you asked me to,”. gentle, soft. thumb against your cheek.

“will you stay forever, then?”

“anything for you,”. a gentle kiss on the nose, a sigh of relief mutually exhaled.

tears dissolving, mending two broken hearts as they dried.

matched breathing, hearts beating in unison.

anything for you.

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

long time no see! so sorry this was so delayed, i had to work an insane amount of overtime at work and had a massive lyme flare up.

i have an alex fic in the works, who else would you like to see?

lots of love to @justwolosers for being there through all this!

mwuah! ᥫ᭡。

#this is a big projection of some feelings ive had forever #so sorry #i promise the next one will be just smut #me actively awaiting requests like mmmm #mwuah love you all so much #ok love u bye #sam sdv #stardew valley #sdv sam #sdv #kinktober #mwuah #sdv sam x female reader #stardew valley sam #sdv sam x reader #sdv smut #sdv farmer

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bippiti · 2 years ago

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anla j.s

anla [trv] — to yearn for

synopsis when jake goes through the heat for the first time, who's better to go to than you?

pairing na'vi! jake sully x omaticayan! gn afab reader

things to note set in the first movie, the reader takes neytiris role & teaches him the omaticayan ways

wc 1k

when jake was first learning the omaticayan ways, he would often come to you with different questions and thoughts. He'd ask you about the plants, the forest, the food, and more. even after he became fully na'vi, he'd find you with more inquiries.

but when he found you deep in the forest, you knew something was amiss. you could feel the heat radiating off of him and see the sweat covering his forehead; his hands were shaking as he bought them toward you

jake was a mess. he had been riding his ikran when he felt this wave of something hit him. he felt warmth spread over his body, and as he got off, he only had one person on his mind.

you.

and now that he had found you, his head was getting light. seeing you, your hips, your face, your eyes.. it was too much. you were too much.

you knew what was wrong almost immediately; males that are of age but haven't yet mated go through tìsom. it's eywas attempt to push them to who they are meant to be with. apparently, it was you. you couldn't deny the feelings you had for jake. spending almost every day together for the last few months, you had found yourself falling for the dreamwalker. that didn't matter right now; you had to take care of him.

he knew you were trying to explain something to him, but it was falling on deaf ears. all he could think about was you. how you'd look without your loincloth on. how you'd look on top of him. how you'd sound while he-

you clapped in front of his face, pulling him out of his thoughts, and you sighed. him finding you was a sign from eywa; you couldn't just ignore it. standing up, you grabbed jake as you made your way to the tree of voices. once you got there, you kneeled among the purple and blue flowers.

"you finding me while you're in tìsom was a sign from eywa jake. it means that we are meant to be mates. my heart has already chosen you, but you must choose me too" you look up at him, tail moving faster than you'd like it too. you were nervous, but you doubt he'd pick it up in the state that he's in.

"I've already chosen you, too," he whispered, bringing his hand up to your cheek. you welcomed the warmth and grabbed your queue. following you, he did the same. as you made tsaheylu, you closed your eyes. you could feel him, feel the warmth spreading across your chest, into your stomach as you began to get drunk off him.

you connected lips, his tongue brushed yours as you began to grind down onto him. his hands fell down to your waist, and you could feel his nails press into your skin; the crescents they formed were a welcomed pain. your moans were silenced as his lips began a feverish assault on your lips. he was rough. too preoccupied, you didn't notice his hands snake to the knot in your top, silently undoing it. once you felt it become loose you shrugged it off, and he took a moment to bask. he finally had you. you in your full glory. lips puffed, eyes glossy, he had you.

seeing the way he was watching you brought back memories of when you had begun to teach him

jake was still new to pandora, a baby. in your words, at least. whenever he was walking in the forest, he was mesmerized. apparently, on earth, they had lost most of their greenery, much of it being synthetic and chemically engineered. he would reach his hands up to touch the Loreyu and would always smile when they would collapse into themselves. his childlike awe of pandora only increased over time. Pandora was a gift that kept on giving, and its beauty never ceased to amaze him.

you were the best thing pandora had given him. you were his home; he never had to be afraid of you judging him. no matter how stupid his questions or rash his decisions, you would be there with him. and now that he had you on top of him, kissing him, he could die a happy man.

the kisses he left on your neck began to trail down to your collarbone, leaving purple marks in their wake. as he trailed his lips down to your chest, swirling circles onto your nipples and massaging the other. your breathing started to get uneven, and your hips started pressing onto him harsher. you let out a moan as he bit down. the smirk on his face was evident as he brought you down onto the cool soil. he continued his path down, past your naval and stopping at your hips.

he glanced up at you, hands still on either side of you. a silent ask for permission. you raised your hips, and that was all he needed. he hastily began to undo the knot, groaning when he was met with the smell of you. he couldn't wait; he needed to be inside you

your breathing got uneven as he started rubbing his tip up n down your folds, collecting your slick. you felt yourself become full as he slowly pushed himself inside you

you don’t know how long jake had had you pressed into the soil, you honestly couldn’t care. you had cum more times than you could count, and his pace was unrelenting. with each thrust of his hips he met your cervix, and you felt your head grow light at the feeling.

his fingers dug into your hips as his pace began to accelerate again. you felt the familiar coil forming in your stomach as you moaned out.

jake brought his head down to your ear as he began to whisper sweet nothings to you; each thrust had you seeing stars, and as you let go you felt him coating your walls

as you were settling in with your new life with jake, you hadn’t been feeling the best, you had become faint many a time and food you used to love suddenly tasted like ash

you had gone to your mother the tsa’hik about it, and after a prick on your neck you looked up to see her smiling at you

eywa had given you another gift

an pls lmk what you think! likes, comments n rb r always appreciated🫶

tags @stevesdick @ellabellabus07 @neytirls @your-left-sock @xferik

#jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar 2 smut #avatar smut #jake sully x gn reader

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slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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This song came on my shuffle while I was cleaning so therefore I am not responsible for this heinous crack 🙃 But also, sorry in advance 💀

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!BAU!reader established relationship (+ a feature by two of the BAU hooligans)

__________

“We really couldn’t fly into a closer airport?” you grumble under your breath, forehead pressed against the cool window of the Tahoe as a seemingly endless expanse of cornfield flies by in a blur.

Hotch uses the rearview mirror to glance at your sour face, raising a single eyebrow in challenge. “And where, pray tell, is this closer airport you speak of? Hiding amongst the corn?”

“Hiding amongst the corn?” you mimic in a childish tone, and he grunts in response although the corner of his mouth twitches with mirth.

“It was almost better when you two were keeping things under wraps,” Derek chimes in from the passenger seat. His long legs allowed him to claim shotgun while you and Emily were relegated to the back. Dave, JJ, Garcia, and Spence were in the vehicle behind you, much to Penelope’s chagrin about being thwarted from “napping on my sturdy hunk of Derek,” as she had so eloquently put it.

“To be fair, you chose to ride with us,” Aaron comes to your defense, and you pipe up with a vindicated, “Yeah! Thanks, babe.” You lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek and he frowns at you, pulling a pouty, “What?” from you in return.

“Sit back and put your seatbelt on,” he chides gruffly, and you can hear the unspoken brat that would’ve been sure to follow if you were alone.

“Fine,” you huff in feigned annoyance, settling into your seat and clicking your seatbelt in place.

The car is silent for a few minutes save from the wind whipping past, then you lean towards the center console and ask, “Can we at least listen to music?”

Emily perks up at that, pulling her head from the case file in her lap. “Music would be good.”

“Here, Derek,” you offer, sliding your phone towards him. “It’s unlocked so you can queue songs. But if I see you swiping anywhere else, I swear to god-”

“Chill, Y/N,” he laughs out. “Ain’t no way I’m risking burning my retinas with a nude from our boss man.”

“Morgan,” your boyfriend sighs like an exasperated parent while you tease, “Only cause he’s too hot to look at.”

“Please just put some music on,” Aaron groans after your comment, and you can see the back of his neck flushed red through the gap between the seat and headrest.

“Alright, alright,” Derek finally relents, plugging in your phone and then turning to smile at you when he spots a playlist titled AH🖤. “Now that’s pretty cute,” he admits, and you return his grin with a bashful one of your own.

Then your smile morphs into a horrified gasp when his thumb hovers over the playlist, the world seeming to move in slow motion as his finger makes contact with the screen.

Corpse’s gravelly voice instructing the listener to Choke me like you hate me, but you love me blares through the speakers as you shriek in surprise. Hotch jams his palm into the volume knob, mercifully cutting off the music before the next line can assault everyone’s ears.

The car is plunged into silence once more as your face flushes under the delighted scrutiny of one Derek Morgan. Emily, to her credit, remains unfazed (mostly because she’s the recipient of your lascivious texts about Aaron).

“We’re never talking about this again,” you whisper, mortified, unwilling to meet Aaron’s gaze in the rearview mirror. You’re so paying for this when you get to the hotel tonight.

“On the contrary,” Derek counters in an almost giddy fashion, “I just figured out how we’re going to pass the time until we reach the precinct. So, Y/N, are you the choker or the chokee?”

You collapse on yourself, head in your hands as you wail, “I wanna die,” while your boyfriend quietly mumbles, “I’m resigning when we get back to Quantico.”

—————

A/N: For those of you wondering… yes, this song is on my Hotch playlist 🥵

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner @iyv-ray24 @mrs-ssa-hotch @criminalskies

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ken-dom · 1 year ago

Text

Training Wheels

Lars Lindstrom x gn!reader

1k words

Summary: You have to take Lars apart before you can put him back together again

Author’s notes: This one happened after a conversation with @hollandstrophyhusband about Lars's messy vs smart looks and his regularly unfastened zipper. Title once again from my Lars playlist 🩷

Warnings/content: nsfw, semi-public, hand job, dirty talk, teasing, light dom/sub elements (sub!Lars)

Lars’s hand slapped across his mouth. He was trying to muffle a moan he could feel rumbling up from his chest, and all the while, his legs felt like they were about ready to give out.

‘Such a dirty boy, aren’t you Lars?’ you cooed into his ear, your tone setting a shiver creeping over his overheated skin. ‘Getting so hard for me when we’re surrounded by people? Leaking into your underwear before I even touch you? So- naughty-’

You punctuated the final words with two very thorough pumps to his cock and he whined, loud and needy even with his mouth muffled by his own palm. His free hand scrambled against the wall behind him to find something, anything to ground him.

Fleeting thoughts flashed through his mind that he wanted to explain himself. To tell you that this was all because you’d been teasing him all day with little deliberate touches here and there, and then you’d continued all night at this party he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to, dripping lewd little comments in his ear, whispering all the dirty things you’d been thinking about him all day.

He couldn’t focus his thoughts on reasoning for long enough to bother trying to explain that that’s why he got hard and shuffled off to the bathroom all coy.

And now he was so close. So painfully close. You knew how to work him over just right, make his pleasure last, have him simmering on the brink and then bring him off exactly how he needs it.

It was becoming too much. Just on the cusp of becoming completely overwhelmed, Lars needed you to let him cum. So he opened his eyes to beg. He knew that if he moved his hand away from his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to control the needy sounds trying to escape him. But his piercingly blue eyes, pouring with tears, said it all.

‘What’s that, Lars, baby?’ you cooed, slowing your ministrations just slightly. ‘I can’t hear you. You’ll have to take your hand away if you want to tell me.’

He shook his head desperately, panic draining his flushed cheeks as your other hand moved from where it rested beneath his sweater, warm on his soft belly, to wrap around his wrist instead.

‘Mmhnn- mmn!!’ Lars protested, using every shred of strength left in him to keep his hand sealed over his lips.

‘I need to hear you,’ you whispered, pressing your lips to his ear as you loosened your grip on his length, giving him some incentive to comply.

His hand immediately dropped from his mouth and his hips bucked forward at the sudden lack of friction, and he sobbed a far too loud, ‘No- please! Please don’t stop!’ no longer caring about the queue of his colleagues and friends on the other side of the door.

‘Tell me what you need,’ you instructed, cool and measured, slowly picking up the pace with a stroke of your palm.

‘I- I need to-’ he started, cheeks flooding red again.

‘What do you need, Lars?’

‘I- I need to cum!’ he whined, blinking his gaze away, ashamed.

He didn’t have time to focus on the shame rising in his gut though, because your fingers were firmly wrapped around his cock again, pumping so furiously he almost collapsed against you.

You pinned him back to the wall and kissed him hard, roughly forcing your tongue into his mouth and swallowing his loud groan as he spilled, hot and thick, over your hand, his fingers gripping at your sides so hard as you tipped over the edge, you hoped he would bruise them.

‘Good,’ you soothed as he dropped his head back and gasped for breath. ‘You did so good for me, Lars.’

His face scrunched up, overwhelmed, but he nodded a thank you, whimpering as his cock softened.

‘Now we’ve got to go back out there or they’ll start to miss us, ok?’

He whined again, clinging onto you, not wanting you to face anyone and just curl up with you instead.

You pulled away, admiring the state of him. He’d dressed up so smart for the party, his best suit and his thickest sweater, hair combed impeccably and his shoes shining.

Now they were splattered with the last few drops of his release, his hair in complete disarray, trousers hanging loose around his waist with the zipper unfastened, underwear pushed down revealing his soft length and his tie loose beneath his sweater, undershirts protruding from where you’d slid your hand up under the layers.

As his breath steadily slowed and tried his hardest to stop shaking, you found a towel and ran it under a warm tap, gently cleaning his length before bending to wipe the drops of his semen from his shoes too.

Throwing it hastily in the laundry basket, you turned back to run your fingers tenderly through his mussed hair, restyling it for him, neatening him up. He sighed dreamily as you pressed your lips tenderly to his still flaming hot cheek.

You could feel his heart pounding in his chest as you straightened his tie and sweater, finally reaching lower to tuck his cock inside his damp underwear and gently zip up his fly, slipping your palm carefully over his sensitive cock for one last feel of him, squeezing lightly and feeling him jolt.

‘Good as new,’ you smiled.

‘Thank you,’ he breathed, straightening and checking himself in the mirror.

‘Now out you go, handsome. I’ll be with you in a minute, alright?’

His eyes widened, panic spreading over his face.

‘Go on Lars, be brave. No one’ll know you’ve just cum…’ you leant closer, feeling him tremble, to whisper, ‘unless you tell them.’

He closed his eyes tight and swallowed hard, your hands guiding him to the bathroom door and unlocking it for him.

‘One minute, okay? I’ll be right behind you.’

With a gentle shove, he was out, music from downstairs flooding the bathroom for a moment before you closed and locked the door again to freshen yourself up, ignoring the impatient queue that had indeed formed outside.

Lars flashed them an exceptionally nervous smile and headed hurriedly down the stairs, wondering whatever you would put him through next. At least you always made sure he looked decent.

#not s f w 💀#lars lindstrom #lars lindstrom x reader #lars lindstrom smut #lars lindstrom x you #lars lindstrom x y/n #lars and the real girl #lars lindstrom fic #lars and the real girl fic #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling x y/n #ken dom writes

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starwarsmum · 22 days ago

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Day 6 sees a return of my very first AU! Alfred's Appreciation Party now has a chapter two: That's Mine

@maribat-calendar-events

Marinette collapsed onto her chaise longue and breathed a large sigh of relief. Her exams were finished and she had a glorious Christmas break to enjoy. She had completed all of her Christmas commissions and made all of the gifts for her friends and family.

“Girl, I hope you're ready to get your party on!” Alya called out, bursting into Marinette's room. When she didn't get a response, she dropped onto the end of the chaise longue. “Come on, Mari, everyone's going to this party and we deserve to let loose.”

“I just want to sleep,” she grumbled. She perked up when her phone lit up, a message from Damian coming through. Typing back enthusiastically, Marinette didn't notice Alya creeping up and reading her screen.

“Oh, is that your American beau?” The reporter asked, eyes glinting behind her glasses. “He's planning on visiting? That's perfect! When does he land?”

“He said he'll be ready to spend time with me tomorrow,” Marinette said with a warning in her voice. Alya harrumphed and pouted at the other girl. “Als, we've literally only seen each other in person one other time, don't you think it's important for us to get some time alone so that we can make sure we still mesh?”

“Fine, but if he's not getting here until tomorrow, that means you're free to come to the party tonight!” Alya looked far too pleased with herself and Marinette groaned goodnaturedly. “Girl, we are getting our best dance clothes out and giving all our friends heart attacks with how good we look.”

_ _ _

Damian threw his suitcase onto the bed of his hotel room and turned around to leave immediately. His room was part of a suite with three other bedrooms as Dick, Jason and Steph had all come along to Paris with him.

“Where's the fire?” Steph said as she lounged on a sofa in the living area of the suite. “Don't you wanna relax a little before you see Marinette, tomorrow?”

“Tt, it is none of your business what I plan to do with my evening,” Damian retorted, checking his hair in a mirror and straightening his outfit. He had selected a dark green shirt and was wearing his most comfortable jeans. It was smart whilst not being too stiff and he was determined to make a proper acquaintance with Marinette's parents.

“Oh, I see, you've got a date and you don't want us to crash it? Too bad because, as the youngest son of a billionaire we have to be careful. Which means no solo excursions. So sad,” she said mockingly, stretching as she smirked at him.

“I am an adult, I will not be treated like a child,” he sneered back at her, but was stopped from leaving by Dick, who frowned at him disappointedly. “Grayson, move aside so that I may exit the hotel.”

“Steph's got a point, baby bird. We're in a different country and you have a pretty famous face. If you really can't wait until tomorrow to see her, I'll walk you over to the bakery myself, okay?”

“Tt, I suppose you are the least offensive of my options,” Damian admitted begrudgingly. He probably would have argued further but it would delay his reunion with Marinette so he let it slide.

By the time they reached the bakery, the evening had plunged into darkness. He knew that the Dupain-Chengs were staying open later in the days leading up to Christmas as it was one of their busiest times of year, so he merely entered and joined the queue of people.

“Hello, what can I get for you?” The woman, who had to be Marinette's mother, asked politely before looking up at him. But before he could respond, she gasped and a more genuine smile broke over her face. “Mon dieu, you are Damian, correct? Oh, Marinette is going to be beside herself when she finds out you have arrived early! Oh, but she's gone out this evening, I'm afraid!”

“I…had not anticipated her being busy,” Damian said, blushing lightly. He was even more embarrassed because Dick was still present, not wanting to leave until he was sure Damian was safely tucked away for the evening. “At what time are you expecting her return?”

“Oh, not until tomorrow at the earliest,” Sabine said, giving him an apologetic smile. “Her friend, Alya, insisted that they go to a party at a local under-eighteens club. It's very popular and goes quite late, so she planned to stay at Alya's place tonight.”

Damian thanked the woman for her time and ordered a dozen pastries at her recommendation. But he scowled the entire way back to the hotel and snarled at Steph when she made a cutting remark about being sent away so soon.

“His princess is in another castle, unfortunately,” Dick said sadly. He launched into a quick explanation of the situation and Damian did not like the look that passed between Steph and Jason.

“To the club!”

_ _ _

When Damian finally got past the ridiculous queue outside of the club he was assaulted by the noise and strobe lights. He could hardly step into the building for the writhing bodies, presumably dancing to said noise.

Given that Jason had forced his presence at the event, Damian allowed himself to be privately grateful that the large man helped to part the crowd. He scanned the outer edges of the room, looking for Marinette, but did not find her.

It was Steph who found her, dancing with one of her friends. Damian was frozen when he caught sight of her; her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the tip of which swayed hypnotically as she moved in time to the music. In the next moment he catalogued what she was wearing and felt heat blaze up his neck and across his face.

She was clearly dressed to move, a pair of simple black flats on her quick moving feet. His eyes swept slowly up from there, taking in her bare legs until the skirt of her dress obscured the view. The dress was both simple and flattering, a camisole bodice matched with a skirt that flared pleasingly. It was black but clearly had glitter imbued in the fabric somehow because it shimmered in the lights.

He could hear Jason and Steph laughing at him but he didn't care. She was a vision, and he had been fortunate that he had arrived early so that he could see her. When the song ended, she fanned her damp face and leaned in to tell her friend something, and then slipped away towards the bar.

People seemed to part for her, in spite of her slight build and Damian felt jealousy building at the heads that turned her way as she passed by. Squaring his shoulders, he began moving across the room, taking a more roundabout route so that she would not see him coming.

It took extra time, but he was gratified to see that she was facing away from him as he approached. His self congratulation was cut short when he saw a young man invading her personal space. He was leering down at her, and Damian held in a snarl as she folded her arms across herself in discomfort.

He didn't bother listening to whatever the cretin was saying, instead stalking up behind her and slamming a hand onto the bar and making them both jump. He snaked an arm around her waist and met the other man's glare with one of his own. He leaned in close to the intruder and growled in his Robin voice.

“That's mine,” he snarled, refusing to break eye contact until the man backed away and beat a hasty retreat. He watched to make sure he wouldn't have to deal with him again before turning his attention to the gorgeous creature in his arms.

“Damian?” She squealed, turning to look up at him but not breaking his hold on her. He was pleased when she threw her arms around his neck and let her pull him down into a kiss. It was shorter than he would have liked but she pulled away with a huge grin. “You're here early! Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

“It pales in comparison to my own joy,” he assured her, speaking the words in her ear for only her. She giggled before kissing him again, fingers threading into his hair and angling his head to deepen it.

They probably would have remained like that indefinitely if his annoying siblings hadn't felt the need to interrupt. The kiss broke when Jason cuffed him on the shoulder hard enough to knock him sideways, making an obnoxious comment about public indecency.

After that, Marinette was swept up in hugs from the others and Damian had to bite back the disappointment that they were not alone. Before too long, they were approached by several other people of around his age, all of whom apparently knew Marinette.

“Shall we get out of here?” Marinette shouted up to him, a smile on her face and a literal bounce in her step. He nodded, smiling back at her, and followed her toward the exit. His hand was clasped in her smaller one and he felt like it was the only thing that really mattered.

Much to his annoyance, his family and a few others followed them out and began talking about getting something to eat. They ended up trekking to a 24-hour restaurant and getting two booth tables next to each other. Damian sat in a corner of a booth so that he was facing towards the other one, Marinette tucked into his side.

“I can't believe you got here early, you're so sneaky!” She giggled, playing with his hands. Had it been anyone else, he would have been annoyed by her constant movement and touching. But as it was Marinette he understood because he wanted to keep touching her to reassure himself that it was real. “How did you even find us?”

“Your mother let me know that you were out for the evening, but Todd and Brown are the ones who located the club she mentioned. I had hoped for a more private reunion, but it appears I was not destined to get my wishes.”

“Speaking of, it's nice to meet you, Mari’s boy,” the brunette with red hair tips and glasses said. “I'm Alya, this is Nino,” she jerked a thumb at the dark skinned boy sitting next to her, “Adrien,” the thumb moved to the blond sitting behind her, “that's Chloé,” she changed to a forefinger, pointing to the blonde seated next to the previous one, “and Kagami.”

The final girl with black hair cut in a severe bob dipped her chin at him before lacing her fingers with Chloé's.

“I am Damian, this is my eldest brother, Richard, Stephanie, a family acquaintance and that behemoth is Jason, though you may call him whatever you choose. The more derogatory, the better to be frank,” he said pointing at the three in turn.

“Call me Dick! It's so nice to meet you all,” Dick chirped excitedly, grinning at the young adults around him. They all smiled at him, those sitting with him offering their hands to shake.

“So, Damian, what are your intentions with our Marinette?” Alya asked abruptly, making said girl splutter and blush, though Jason howled and slammed a hand down on the table. He and Dick were taking up an entire side of the other booth and Damian shot them a glare.

“Was it ambiguous? I intend to date her,” he said flatly, ignoring Steph who cooed at them. Marinette shot him a pleased grin, however, so he relaxed slightly.

“Isn't that going to be kind of tricky, what with you living in America?” Alya shot back, eyes narrowing. “She deserves better than someone wishy washy, or someone who isn't serious about a relationship.”

“Alya,” Marinette hissed, dropping Damian's hand and leaning forward to glare at the young woman. “Please don't embarrass me and Damian in front of his family.”

“It's not embarrassing, Marinette,” Alya said sassily, rolling her eyes. “If he's serious about dating you, I'm sure he won't mind a few questions.”

Jason snorted and Dick smacked him, not wanting Damian's temper to explode. But Damian understood Alya's desire to only have the best for Marinette, and sought to soothe her concerns.

“I would not have come to Paris if I were not serious in my pursuit. Marinette is a wonder, and I do not intend for the distance to prevent my courting of her,” he stated, resting his hand on her hip and squeezing.

An awed silence followed this statement and it looked like Dick had to physically restrain Jason from applauding.

“Perhaps someone can explain to me why you look familiar, Damian,” Kagami said at last, turning in her seat to scrutinise him. “I feel as though we have been acquainted previously, but cannot place why.”

“Tt, it will be because we have competed in international tournaments prior to this,” Damian clipped out, eyes shifting away.

“Ah, of course, three years ago, number fourteen, Damian Wayne of Gotham. You were a worthy opponent and I would not mind testing my blade against you once more, but you have not participated in international competitions in some time.”

“Hold on, did you say Wayne, Gami?” Chloé tried to keep her voice level before turning in her seat to stare at Damian. “I don't know whether I should be offended that you're not using Le Grand Paris during your visit.”

“Oh, we are, we're just using Steph's name so that we can relax more,” Dick said cheerily. “We always do it when we're not traveling for business, it makes things a lot easier if the press doesn't catch wind.”

“Want to fill the rest of us in, Chlo?” Alya said drily, eyeing the visitors with interest. “I'm guessing you're famous in Gotham, but why would Chloé take it personally that you weren't staying at the hotel?”

Adrien gave Marinette an apologetic look before speaking. “Not just Gotham, Alya. You're looking at some of the children of Bruce Wayne, billionaire and co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises. Honestly, I should have recognised them too, Felix has had enough meetings with their other CEO that I should've recognised Dick at least.”

“You collected another rich kid, that's so funny, dudette,” Nino chortled, tapping his fingers on the table. “What is it about you that rich people find so fascinating, and can it be copied? I wouldn't mind being surrounded.”

“What, I'm not enough for you, bro?” Adrien said, sounding hurt.

“Dude, my guy, you are the best friend ever and I wouldn't trade you, but there's a difference between having one very good friend that has money and becoming family to a rockstar, the romantic interest of at least three nepo-babies and managing to find one of the meanest people in the world and turning him into putty,” Nino deadpanned, looking at Marinette with a mix of exasperation and fondness.

“Damian's not mean,” Marinette said immediately and with no small amount of hurt in her voice. Jason barked out a laugh and Marinette turned her disappointed eyes on him. “That's not very nice, Jason! Damian is wonderful, creative and thoughtful, and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

“Oh jeez, is this how you felt when I called you a ‘very good friend’, Mari? I'm so sorry,” Adrien said jokingly. “I thought we were besties, Nino? Do I really mean so little to you?”

“Why would he apologise for calling you a good friend?” Damian asked, eyes narrowing at the blond. Marinette slumped in her seat, face buried in her hands as Alya and Chloé began to giggle.

“It isn't important anymore,” she groaned, blushing to the roots of her hair. Damian raised an eyebrow at those around him, torn between pressing the matter to satisfy his curiosity and giving her the privacy she obviously wanted.

“He'll find out eventually, girl,” Alya said between giggles. When Marinette merely groaned again, she seemed to take that as permission to proceed. “I'm going to preface this by saying that they are, in fact, only good friends now, but Mari used to have a crazy crush on Adrien here. And Captain Oblivious here had no idea, went around telling everyone what amazing friends they were.”

“Ah, unrequited love,” Jason said dramatically. “The heart was made to be broken, as they say. I'd like to say you found a good one eventually, but since you're dating Demon Spawn…”

“Oh, it wasn't unrequited,” Chloé said airily. “Adrien was just dense in the extreme. You should have seen the party these idiots threw when they started dating. It was ridiculous.”

“Utterly ridiculous,” every other Parisian chorused before bursting out in laughter. The Gothamites merely looked at each other confused until Chloé stomped a foot and muttered darkly.

“Now that you've thoroughly embarrassed me and dragged out my dating history, can we move on?” Marinette complained, avoiding looking at Damian.

“Hun, we've barely touched on your twisted dating history,” Alya said, making the Gothamites look at her questioningly. “Luka Couffaine, anyone?”

“Why is that name familiar?” Steph asked, trading puzzled looks with Dick.

“He's an up and coming guitarist,” Marinette said, although she was blushing again. After a moment, Jason gasped and pointed at her accusingly.

“Luka Couffaine as in headlined with Jagged Stone earlier this year, Luka Couffaine? His son, Luka?” Jason was looking at her like she was insane. “You dated Jagged Stone's son, presumably dumped him, and he still treats you like a niece?”

“Why would Jagged treat her like a niece?” Adrien asked in bewilderment, and Marinette made a panicked face at Jason while making cutting motions across her neck. “She's not even all that close with Luka anymore.”

“Because she designs for him?” Dick said, completely oblivious to the very obvious ‘shut up’ cues Marinette was giving the group.

The group went silent for all of a minute before Adrien whispered, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng…MDC…” and the tables erupted in shouting and expletives. Chloé was the one who finally got them to shut up.

“Oh my god, I can't believe that our good friend Marinette, the fashion designer, who won a Gabriel competition, was offered an internship with my mother, and designed for Jagged Stone the first time she met him, turned out to be his secretive fashion designer. Using her own initials as a pseudonym. Truly, she is a master of stealth.

“Can we talk about the actual surprising revelation that Damian Wayne, Gotham's Ice Prince and the latest rich sap to fall to Marinette's charm, did a dance video to the goddamn bread song?” Chloé demanded.

“Wait, you've seen the video?” Dick asked in a wounded voice. “Lil D, Mari's friends have seen it, why won't you let us?”

“Sending the video to Marinette was an unavoidable risk and I had no control over who she showed it to,” Damian said severely. “The only outcome of you viewing the video is mockery and I will not subject myself to that needlessly.”

“Damian, the video is adorable, how could anyone mock you for it?” Marinette chided, intertwining her fingers with his. He harrumphed and lifted their hands to kiss the back of hers. “But as long as you don't want them to see it, they won't get it from me.”

Damian smiled at her and ignored his family's protests.

#maribat #daminette december #Daminette #damian x marinette #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #damianette #maribat event #marinette x damian #fluff #that's mine

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forgot-how-catflap-works · 4 months ago

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Hot take: Sisyphys got a sweet deal

We must imagine Sisyphus happy, according to existentialist philosopher Albert Camus. It’s one of his hottest and most widely known takes. The idea that when confronted with the meaninglessness of his existence, condemned for all eternity to push a boulder up a mountain only for it to roll back down, dear old Sisyphus may find contentment. What other choice does he have after all?

(Showing my age here with the rage face meme and will not apologise #MillenialPride)

The assertion is that we mortals are faced with a similar conundrum. Life is unpredictable, chaotic, and frequently terrifying. With nothing but the infinite void to look forward to, how are we to spend our days? Either we embrace religion and pray for eternal salvation, skip the queue to the void by killing ourselves because it doesn’t make any difference in the end, or laugh at the absurdity of it all and find joy in the simple act of being here. It is up to us to create our own meaning.

On my good days this notion provides me a lot of comfort, and links in nicely with the zen buddhist idea that this moment is the only thing we truly have. So the take home is to embrace it, and live fully for the moment. It’s all very Dead Poets Society or, if you’re like me and have never seen that film, the B plot in Season 1, Episode 3 of Community. In the immortal words of Professor Whitman, “Seize the day Jeff, for real. Go running naked in a hailstorm, kiss a girl in the middle of the day, fly a kite but do it for yourself! Or you wot just fail my class, you’ll fail life.”

On my bad days however, I’m just salty about it. Suddenly the pressure to create my own meaning in the limited time I have becomes crippling to the point of paralysis. Every moment not spent living my best life is a moment wasted. I move steadily towards the grave, the years ahead steadily becoming fewer than those behind. What have I achieved with these dwindling hours, these precious days in which I am burdened to create my own meaning? I’ll tell you what I’ve done; play RuneScape and be depressed.

The problem with transferring this thinking from Sisyphus to a human living under late stage capitalism in the 21st century, is that Sisyphys didn’t have to go to a fucking job everyday. All he had to do was push a boulder! All day! Piece of piss mate.

What I wouldn’t give to just push a boulder all day. No laundry, no dishes, no reletenlessly targeted advertising and no more fucking work emails or meetings. I bet Sisyphys never once had a melon-related panic attack in the fruit aisle of Aldi. On top of that, pushing a massive boulder to the top of a mountain is an incredible workout. Right now I have to drive nearly 30 minutes to go and sweat in a leisure centre while strangers grunt in my periphery. Give me the boulder any day. I want that head empty, no thoughts, brain scampled egg life baby. Release me from the curse of my own self-awareness.

Okay, I get it that Albert Camu grew up in poverty, survived tuberculosis, and lived through the Second World War. I readily admit that my “melon crisis” doesn’t stack up in comparison. All I’m saying is, it’s pretty easy to imagine someone happy when they are free from the mountains of bullshit that besiege us every single day. I am completely overwhelmed by the mere act of existing under capitalism. The sheer number of decisions I have to make every single day just to get from one end to the next breaks my autistic brain. I can’t handle it, didn’t ask for it, and I certainly don’t want it. But surely we could do literally anything else?

I know it’s sort of laughable to say, “Let’s all go back to a simple, agrarian existence where we live off the land and chill by a waterfall smoking phat blunts.” Like, obviously that sounds a thousand times better than what we’re doing now, but short of a catastrophic societal collapse and then thousands of years of recovery, that’s not going to happen. Did you know it (sort of) takes six months and over $1,500 dollars to make a single chicken sandwich from scratch? Sustaining a single human life requires an incredible amount of work.

There are so many of us, and we’re so connected and interdependent on each other as a species. No organism on the planet comes close to what we have built for ourselves and it is an amazing feat by every conceivable metric. But what is it all for? Have we ever once as a civilisation stopped and asked ourselves why we’re doing any of this?

For whatever reason, we are apparently limited in our conception of all that remains possible. A civilisation disjointed and misaligned, adrift on this rock hurtling through space at mind boggling speeds, confronted with the meaninglessness of it all and refusing to collectively acknowledge it for even a moment.

It’s like we’re still locked in that primordial stage of evolution, where we must accrue resources to survive the harsh winter and outlive our rivals. When we predominantly existed as smaller bands or tribes, that made a lot of sense. But now we are a single connected superorganism, our sense of competition is squarely in opposition to our sense of collaboration.

We broadly recognise the need to collaborate in tackling existential threats like climate change, yet our primal competitiveness sees us knee jerking our way back towards fascism. It’s like we’ve gone to the doctor about a backache and they prescribed a dozen hungry tigers to be administered immediately. We’re still acting as though there is not enough to go around, when there is in fact plenty; it has just been misallocated. I am left always wondering why? What do we have to gain from eating ourselves alive?

I cannot help but think it comes from a petulant refusal to collectively acknowledge the void. We struggle desperately for meaning, to leave a legacy, but forget that it is impossible. Even those who live on in infamy after their death will one day perish from the collective consciousness. Our sun will die, all heat will fade from the universe until it is nothing but a barren, lifeless waste. No tower you build or lineage you foster will outlast that. Yet we sit watching helplessly as oligarchs and plutocrats rail against their own mortality to catastrophic and destructive consequences for the rest of us. I suppose in the long run, that doesn’t really matter though does it?

We have made a home for ourselves in the belly of a vast, insatiable beast. A beast so hungry for our blood and labour that it stifles anything that cannot be effectively comodified. How are we to find happiness and peace under such conditions? It is simply not a priority.

To quote folk punk band AJJ:

This is no exaggeration, we're living in a death machine

And no, it's not just your imagination

You've been living in a death machine

Some of us are passengers, and some of us are driving

Almost everybody's getting bled to death to keep the motor running

Sisyhus at least is free from its roiling guts, and in that freedom it is not difficult to imagine him happy. For the rest of us, it takes a little more effort and a lot more work.

#existential dread #existential thoughts #existential crisis #philosophy #anti capitalist #anti capitalism #late stage capitalism #creative writing #screaming into the void #brain scrampled egg

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elikajinnie · 11 months ago

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Young Love | Park Seonghwa X reader

a/n: This was posted on ao3, but now its here as well!

Genre: Fluff, minor angst, romance

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

In the vibrant world of K-pop, I found myself as an ardent fan of many Korean Pop bands. But none of them could ever beat Ateez, with their visual, stage presence, and amazing songs that had stolen my heart with their infectious music. My room was adorned with posters of them, and every song, every dance move was etched into my soul. But my admiration went beyond mere fandom – it was something deeper, something that resonated in the core of my being.

Being a dedicated student, if you could call it that, I was constantly running on caffeine and energy bars, trying to finish my work for the day. My eyelids were dropping, and the words on my textbook were blurring into a spiral of letters. "Ah, I can't do this," I thought, not hesitating to grab my phone. To my surprise, multiple notifications from my friends lit up the screen. "They have been talking for a while…" I unlocked my phone and opened the group chat.

"Amanda has sent a link."

Amanda: "ATEEZ IS COMING TO OUR TOWN, GUYS."

Soojin: "Wait, really?"

Athena: "OMG! IT'S REAL!"

Amanda: "@Y/N WAKE UP."

78+ unread messages.

I clutched my phone tightly, feeling like my whole world collapsed as I read my friends' chat. "They are coming… here? I can see them?" With shaky hands, I typed in a message.

Y/n: "We have to buy tickets."

Soojin: "YEAH, NO SHIT. LET'S GET VIP, GUYS."

Athena: "Isn't that too expensive?"

Soojin: "NOTHING IS TOO EXPENSIVE FOR THE NAME OF LOVE! RIGHT Y/N!?"

I groaned at Soojin's antics. "Name of love… yeah, more like me being delusional," I thought.

Y/n: "Very funny."

Amanda: "Come on Y/n, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Soojin: "I AM CURRENTLY IN THE QUEUE, GUYS."

Athena: "You are seriously buying VIP tickets??!"

Soojin: "YES!"

I let out a sigh before putting my phone down and going on my computer to open the ticket sale. Seeing the VIP ticket's price, I cringed internally, feeling sorry for my bank account. I clicked on it, hoping the purchase would go through.

Amanda: "I GOT THE TICKETS."

Soojin: "TICKETS ARE SECURED! I GOT ONE EXTRA FOR YOU TOO, ATHENA, SO YOU HAVE TO COME!"

Athena: "Damn it. Fine. Thank you, Soojin."

Soojin: "You're welcome!"

Soojin: "Now you owe me."

Athena: "….fine."

Amanda: "Did you get yours, Y/n???"

Soojin: "????"

Athena: "Yeah, did you?"

I stared at the screen of my computer, unblinking as the words washed over me.

CONGRATS Y/N. YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY BOUGHT VIP TICKETS FOR ATEEZ. WE CAN'T WAIT TO SEE YOU THERE.

I glanced at my phone and tried to type in my answer with a few mistakes.

Y/n: "I got mine."

I turned off my phone and put it down, my whole body vibrating in excitement. "I'm seeing them.. I'm finally seeing them."

As the concert day drew closer, my heart raced with anticipation. I carefully selected my outfit, aiming for a perfect blend of style and allure. I wanted to exude confidence when I finally stood in front of the group that had captured my heart. My friends arrived, and we embarked on the journey to the concert, blasting Ateez's songs along the way, our excitement filling the car.

When we arrived at the venue, the sight of the long queue and the bustling crowd took my breath away. The realization that I was about to see Ateez up close made my heart flutter with a mix of nerves and exhilaration. Hours seemed to pass like minutes as we stood in line, chatting excitedly about what the night might hold.

Finally, the moment arrived. The doors opened, and the crowd surged inside. My friends and I found ourselves swept up in the sea of fans, our hearts pounding in unison with the music that echoed through the arena. The energy was electric, the anticipation palpable. "So many Atinys.. it's amazing," I thought as I was pulled along by Amanda towards the barricade, chatting with other Atiny's.

The minutes ticked by as the lights dimmed and the performance started, screams of girls and boys around resonating as screams were heard throughout the giant stage and halls. My heart skipped a beat. This was it. There they were, the idols I had admired from afar, now dancing and singing just a few feet away. My eyes darted from member to member, each one shining in their unique way. And then, my gaze locked onto him – Park Seonghwa, the one who had captured my heart from the very beginning.

I looked around and saw the immense energy resonating from the fans and started matching their energy, shaking my lightstick in rhythm to the music. My eyes closed for a minute, feeling the song. When I opened my eyes, I met the gaze of him.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, time seemed to stand still. It was as if the world faded away, leaving only Seonghwa and me in a shared moment of connection. I could feel his energy, his passion, radiating from the stage and intertwining with my own. For those fleeting seconds, it was as if we were the only two people in the universe.

But as quickly as it had begun, the gaze broke. Seonghwa had to continue his performance, his moves seamless and his voice captivating. I watched with a mix of awe and admiration, my heart still racing from our brief, intense connection. The music swelled, the lights danced, and the concert carried on, but for me, those few seconds of eye contact with Seonghwa remained etched in my memory.

The night soared by, a whirlwind of music and emotion. As the final notes of the last song echoed through the arena, I felt a bittersweet ache in my chest. The concert was over, and reality was settling in. But I knew that the night was still young.

As the lights came up and the crowd began to disperse, my friends and I exchanged excited whispers and shared smiles.

After the exhilarating concert had concluded, my friends and I found ourselves waiting anxiously in a designated area, eagerly anticipating our meeting with Ateez. The moments of anticipation seemed to stretch endlessly, but as the queue gradually lessened, my nerves started to lighten. I exchanged excited glances with my friends, our shared enthusiasm fueling our excitement.

Finally, my turn arrived to meet the members of Ateez. My heart raced as I stepped onto the podium, the space filled with the vibrant energy of my idols.

As I made my way down the line, I felt my pulse quicken when I came face to face with Kim Hongjoong. He exuded charisma and kindness, putting me at ease with his warm smile. Our conversation flowed effortlessly

, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for this opportunity.

Each member greeted me warmly, and I managed to have genuine conversations with all of them, laughing and sharing stories as if we were old friends. It was surreal – a dream come true that surpassed all my expectations.

But what truly caught me off guard was when I reached Seonghwa. The moment our eyes met, it was like time had folded, and we were back in that shared gaze from the concert. The connection between us was undeniable, a magnetic pull that transcended the chaos of the room around us. We spoke, our words weaving a tapestry of shared interests and laughter, as if we had known each other for years.

Throughout our conversation, I noticed that Seonghwa's eyes held an intensity that seemed to match my own feelings. It was as if he was as captivated by my presence as I was by his. Our hearts communicated through unspoken glances and shared smiles, creating a bubble of intimacy within the bustling room.

Just as I was about to leave, I felt a gentle touch on my hand. Looking down, I saw a piece of paper discreetly handed to me by Seonghwa. My heart skipped a beat as I took it, my fingers brushing against his for a fleeting moment. I discreetly pocketed the paper, the anticipation of what it held only adding to my excitement.

I waited for my friends to be done before excusing myself to the bathroom, ignoring their snickers.

I quickly located the bathroom and locked the door before pulling the paper from my pocket, carefully unfolding it, my heart racing as I read the message.

Seonghwa had written a simple yet powerful request – to meet him at the stage once everyone had left. My breath caught in my throat, and a mix of nerves and exhilaration surged through me. Without hesitation, I discreetly made my way to the stage, the shadows of the night concealing my movements.

As I reached the stage, I saw Seonghwa waiting for me, a soft smile on his lips. He gestured for me to follow, and we walked together in silence until we reached a small, secluded room. The air was charged with a mix of emotions – anticipation, nervousness, and an undeniable attraction.

Seonghwa motioned for me to sit, and as we settled into the quiet space, the world seemed to fall away. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, unburdened by the expectations of the outside world. We shared our dreams, our passions, our vulnerabilities, and with each passing moment, I felt myself falling deeper in love with the person I had admired from afar.

Our eyes locked once again, and with the heart eyes we exchanged, it spoke volumes. It was as if we were the only two people in existence, our connection forming an unbreakable bond. Seonghwa's hand brushed against mine, a simple touch that sent shivers down my spine, igniting a fire of longing within me.

As the night grew darker, our conversation continued, traversing the realm of music, dreams, and personal experiences. Time seemed to lose its grip, and it was just Seonghwa and me, two destined souls intertwined in a space where nothing else mattered.

As the hours slipped away, my heart felt both heavy and light. I had shared something profoundly intimate with Seonghwa, a connection that transcended the boundaries of fandom and reality. And as we finally bid each other farewell, I knew that the love story that had begun with a shared gaze had evolved into something deeper – a story of two hearts finding solace, comfort, and love in the midst of a bustling world.

Weeks had passed since that serendipitous night when Seonghwa and I had shared our first intimate conversation. Our connection had deepened over late-night phone calls, bridging the gap between our physical separation as Seonghwa continued on his tour. The miles between us seemed insignificant as our voices carried our emotions across the line, turning ordinary conversations into moments of shared intimacy.

But as Seonghwa's tour took him back to South Korea, the physical distance began to weigh on both our hearts. I missed him with an ache that only grew stronger with each passing day. Determined to surprise him and bridge the gap, I made a bold decision.

I booked a flight to South Korea.

My arrival in South Korea was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. As I stepped off the plane and breathed in the unfamiliar air, a mixture of excitement and anticipation filled my every step. I made my way to the Ateez dorms, as I had gotten help from San to my surprise. A swirl of emotions churned within me. When I finally arrived, I was greeted with warmth and hugs from San and Yeosang, both of whom had become familiar voices through the phone.

"Welcome, Y/n! We've heard so much about you," San exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug that made me feel instantly at ease. Yeosang joined in, his smile as genuine as ever.

After the initial excitement settled, I couldn't help but ask the question that had been on my mind since I arrived, "Where's Seonghwa?"

"He's at the company right now, but he should be back shortly," San replied with a mischievous grin. "He's going to be over the moon when he sees you."

As I waited for Seonghwa's return, I spent time bonding with San and Yeosang, our laughter filling the room. We shared stories, inside jokes, and moments that I knew I would treasure forever.

Finally, the door burst open, and Seonghwa walked in. His eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he took in the sight of me standing there, a radiant smile on my face. Without a second thought, he crossed the room and enveloped me in a tight embrace, his happiness palpable.

"Is this real? Am I dreaming?" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

I laughed, my heart swelling with affection. "I'm real, Seonghwa. I wanted to surprise you." Seonghwa could only hug me tighter, spinning me around the room, our giggles filling the air.

Over the next few days, Seonghwa and I embarked on a whirlwind adventure across Seoul. We explored the streets, visited popular spots, and shared moments of quiet intimacy. One sunny day, we found ourselves sitting on a park bench, enjoying ice cream and each other's company, the sundown casting a golden glow over the bustling town.

Our conversation flowed effortlessly until an elderly couple passing by stopped in front of us. With a twinkle in their eyes, the old woman smiled and said, "You two make such a cute couple."

Seonghwa's reaction was unexpected. He chuckled nervously and quickly denied the assumption, causing a pang of disappointment to flicker within me. I quickly masked my feelings and brushed it off, but inside, doubt began to creep in.

As the day turned into night, I found myself retreating into my thoughts. I withdrew from the members' offers to eat, choosing to wallow in self-pity instead. I felt like an outsider in a world where Seonghwa was a star and I was just an ordinary person.

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Seonghwa finally pleaded for me to let him in. I hesitated before reluctantly allowing him into the spare room they had given me during my stay. As he saw my tear-stained face, his heart shattered, and he, too, was reduced to tears.

He cupped my face gently in his hands, his voice trembling as he asked, "Y/n, what's wrong?"

I looked up at him, my eyes brimming with vulnerability. "Do you… not like me? Is that why you denied us being a couple the other day?"

Seonghwa's heart ached as he realized the impact of his words. He wiped away my tears and took a deep breath, his voice steady yet laden with emotion. "No, Y/n. It's not that. It's just… I was afraid. Afraid that if I admitted my feelings, you might reject me. I never wanted to risk what we have for my feelings."

My heart swelled with a mix of relief and understanding. I reached up and gently silenced him with a kiss, shocking him. I pulled away to see his reaction, but I found that impossible as he pulled me into a deeper kiss, a soft yet profound message of requited feelings. We both laughed through our kiss, our emotions finally finding an outlet.

When we pulled away, I pulled and tackled Seonghwa onto the bed, both of us laughing.

As we cuddled on the bed, our laughter faded into hushed whispers. The air was charged with a newfound intimacy, our shared experiences deepening our connection. Seonghwa gazed into my eyes, his heart in his throat as he asked the question that had been on his mind for so long.

"Y/n, will you be my girlfriend?"

Tears welled up in my eyes once more, but this time they were tears of joy. With a radiant smile, I answered, "Yes, Seonghwa. Yes, I will."

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing our newfound commitment to each other. As we embraced, the weight of doubt and distance lifted, replaced by the certainty that our love story was just beginning – a love story that had transcended the boundaries of fame and ordinary life, bringing two souls together in a journey of shared moments, whispered confessions, and unbreakable love.

#fanfiction #park seonghwa #park seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fic

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cupidsrrott · 2 years ago

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𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩; PABLO GAVI

𝙄𝙉 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝘾𝙃, they spend their first night together at his flat.

author’s note; um once again this is not proofread🤗. but this is my first gavi one shot so i hope it was alright!

“Thank you” I say as my friend passes me a drink I gave her a smile as I took sip out of the can the cold alcoholic drink running down my throat. As my friend gave me a smile and a ‘no problem’ as the both of us weaved our way through the crowded house away from the kitchen making sure we were close to one another.

The drink still in my hand as we made our way to the rest of our girlfriends. All of us laughing as we danced together with drinks in hand just the slightest bit tipsy but I was still conscious and alert unlike some of them. I looked around the house trying to find the familiar face of my boyfriend whom I haven’t seen since the start of the night. And was still yet to be seen.

I was still in the middle of my second and most likely my last drink of the night as jeers were heard from outside the large Spanish villa. Most people including my friends and I went outside curious as to the commotion coming from outside. I looked up to the roof as everyone else was doing so.

And right up there on the orange shingles to one level of the house was Pablo Gavi, my dumbass boyfriend. His drink in hand as he raised it in the air causing everyone to continue cheering at his position. A fee people calling out “Golden boy” in chants towards Gavi. As he motioned them to keep going and keep their voices raised over the music playing. I cringed watching my boyfriend up there where the hell were all of his friends.

“Oh my gosh Y/n it’s Gavi!” One of my friends laughed in their completely drunken state now noticing. “Yeah it is” I said with a tense gaze as I looked up at him he looked down to the crowd spotting me out. “This is for you Y/n” he pointed down at me with his free hand. Where was my once shy boyfriend with a conscious.

Getting ready to jump off the roof into the large pool below I yelled out to him but he paid no mind and jumped without a second thought and a scream in excitement. I stood there with widened eyes as everyone around whistled, clapped or yelled out in a cheer.

Once he came down it took him a minute to come out of the pool and it was the longest minute of my life as everyone went silent. He popped his head out of the pool beer bottle in hand, all of the beer had spilled out from his jump. I shook my head in disapproval as everyone began to cheer for him once again at his antics.

Gavi gave toothy smile as he crawled out of the pool to be met with my look of disapproval. “What the hell were you thinking?!” I said firmly over the loud music everyone going back to what they were previously doing. I gave him a slight smack to his bare chest as he most likely left his shirt on the roof.

My friends who were stood behind me had taken their queue to leave not wanting to get in the middle of this and wanting to become even more intoxicated. Gavi’s friends and teammates who were supposed to be watching out for him were nowhere in sight either which was not surprising due to Gavi’s previous ‘stunt’.

“What you didn’t like it? I can’t believe I even made it in the pool, I really thought I was gonna miss it” he said to me adrenaline and alcohol still going through his veins as he spoke like he was trying to catch his breath. “No! Gavi I didn’t, you could’ve gotten seriously hurt that was so not funny” I told him while crossing my arms.

He brought his hands to my forearms pulling me closer to him. “Baby I’m fine” he said with a drunken hiccup “yeah this time” I looked up pointedly at him. “Okay, okay- I-I will not- ever do it again” he slurred as he collapsed on me starting to lose consciousness. “Can we go home?” He mumbled in my neck.

“Yes, please” I sighed aloud twirling my fingers around the hair at the back of his head. He gradually lifted himself off of me and I spotted his shirt on the ground, assuming someone most likely had thrown it down. I picked it up as we made our way through the crowded villa making an irish goodbye.

I handed him his shirt as we were making our way out of the house. He slipped it on over his head and when I took a glance at him the said shirt was on backwards as the graphic design that was supposed to be on the back of the shirt was now plastered on his chest.

I shook my head playfully at him as we walked up to his car. And I felt up his pockets for the keys “woah slow down babe we’ll be home soon” he said with a wide smirk. I rolled my eyes at him eventually finding the keys. I tucked Gavi into the passenger side of the car before I fixed myself up comfortably in the driver’s seat.

“Did you buckle up your seat belt?” I asked as the engine of the car started. “Yeah, I did, I did” I looked over to him seeing as he did actually buckle his seat belt but the strap was all contorted. I shook my head biting back a laugh “what?!” He asked exasperatedly. “Nothing” I shook my head at the boy next to me before leaving our parked position.

After the 25 minutes of hearing Gavi whine in his sleep or mumble something while half-awake I had finally driven us to his flat. I looked over at Gavi who was peacefully sleeping I knew I had to wake him up. I ran my fingers through his brown locks and then brought my hand down to caress his cheekbone.

“C’mon Mr.Golden-Boy you have to wake up I need to go home too” I said a little quietly mocking the nickname as he stirs awake with a groan. “Y/n I’m hungry” he whined “well if you get up then you can get something to eat” I tried to comply. He sighs with his eyes tightly shut as he un-clips his seat belt and lets out a small ‘okay’.

I kissed his temple, he leaned into the touch but I sought my way out not wanting to spend my night in a parking garage. I shut the door to my side of the car and made my way around to his side as he pushed open the door forcefully and stumbled out of his seat but I had caught him with the strength I could muster up.

He held onto my waist as he pushed himself up against me using all his body weight on me. I shut the door quite awkwardly with the hand that was wrapped around Gavi’s waist. I used the car keys to Gavi’s car and locked the car as Gavi continued to put all his wait on me and we both made our way to the elevator door stumbling our way in I pushed his floor button and we were on our way up.

“Pablo please just lean on the wall I’m gonna collapse” I told him and gently lifted himself off of me and leaned him against the wall as he let out a weird noise in discomfort. I let my shoulders go from its previous tense hold as Gavi then found himself clinging onto me once again. “Are we here yet?” He murmured into the crook of my neck.

“Almost” I say as he had his arms around me securely as I rubbed his back up and down. Finally a bell was sound and we both made our way out of the elevator, Gavi still with his secure grip but around my shoulders this time as I held an arm around his waist. The both of us walking down the hall making it to his door I found his home key and jiggled it into the lock.

As I was about to push the door open Gavi tripped on something invisible causing him to fall backwards quite embarrassingly. I tried to stifle a laugh because it was past 4 in the morning but as much as I tried I couldn’t help it. And I let out a burst of laughter at the boy who still remained on the ground in his drunken state.

I helped him up in between of fits of laughter he rolled his eyes “that was not funny” “it was very funny” I continued laughing a little while pushing the door open. He huffed as I locked the door and placed his car keys onto the kitchen island. “C’mon” I said with a shake of my and a little giggle at his state.

I kissed his cheekbone as the both of us made our way through his flat. He threw himself on the bed lazily taking his shoes off his feet and throwing them across the room. I slid my heels off as I ordered an uber on my phone. Gavi raised his arms up “what?” I looked at him from my phone, he didn’t say anything but I then figured it out.

“Oh my god, you baby” I rolled my eyes playfully taking his shirt off of his toned body. Holding the shirt between the side of my body and arm as I tied my hair up using the elastic I took out from my clutch then placing the clutch back on top of his dresser. I could feel his eyes burning holes into my back(lower back). “What is it?” I turn around to see him only his boxers it wasn’t a sight I haven’t seen before but it definitely was one I liked to see.

“Nothing you just- I don’t even know if I say it often or not. But goddamn I don’t know if this is too corny but I will never get tired of looking at you.” Even in his intoxicated state he was still trying to charm me. “Yeah it is a little corny” I scrunched my nose, “but thank you” I smiled up the boy who looked as though he was seeing the stars for the first time.

“Now go to bed you can flirt with me tomorrow during your severe hangover” I say placing a hand to his chest but it doesn’t cause his hands to leave my hips. I walked him over to his bed and he fell in quite gracefully. He tucked himself into the bed and I kissed the corner of his mouth. “Goodnight, I have to go okay” I looked at him as a frown etched his way onto his face.

“Why?” Before I could answer my phone went off with the uber notification. “Because my uber is here” I told him rubbing my thumb across his jaw. He sighed, “please stay” he said quietly and looked up at me innocently. I leaned my head to the side contemplating whether I should just sleep here alongside my boyfriend in his larger and comfier bed but not have my makeup removed properly and no silk pyjamas.

Or I could go home to my slightly smaller bed without my boyfriend but have my proper night routine and my silk pyjama button up set. I looked him in the eyes once more before shaking my head. “Okay, okay I’ll stay but you better make up for this tomorrow because I don’t have pyjamas or any of my skin stuff.”

“It’s okay you don’t need all that fancy moisturizer you can use my soap” he smiled up at me. I let out a groan in my head I walked back towards my phone to cancel my uber. But not before Gavi grabbed my wrist gently and pulling me down for a kiss as he fiddled with the Van Cleef bracelet on my wrist he had gifted me.

I pulled back a small smile graced my lips and his, I then cancelled the uber on my phone that was next to the shirt he wore tonight and next to my clutch. I opened his dresser drawer pulling out a simple cotton FC Barcelona T that he usually wore to bed. I held it up to my chest and I could smell him just on this shirt. I also pulled out a pair of his plaid pyjama pants knowing I was going to be cold in just a shirt.

I made my way to his bathroom keeping the door open knowing full well Gavi was watching the whole process of me removing my jewellery changing and washing the makeup off my face. I made sure that my makeup was fully removed, so I dried my face with a hopefully clean face towel that was found folded in his bathroom drawer with other towels.

I made my way to his bed after switching off the bedroom light. The room now completely dark but shapes could be seen including Gavi’s, Gavi who turned to his other side saw me climb into the bed with him. “You are very lucky I don’t have class tomorrow and my roommate has plans with her boyfriend” I say to him pointing a finger at him.

He chuckled before pulling me into his chest, I wrapped my arms around his waist as we were both face to face with each other. “Thank you” he said quietly before pressing a kiss to my lips. “You’re welcome, because I’m sacrificing my moisturizers and face wash. And clean towels for this, and-” “your silk pyjamas I know, I know” he laughs a little.

I looked up at him as he slowly began to doze off while my hands themselves in his hair weaving through his soft locks. I kiss his forehead as he lets a hum and soon enough he pulled himself onto my chest hiding himself into the crook of my neck. While my fingers continued to play with his hair.

It was honestly quite weird spending the night together. It’s not like I haven’t slept alongside him but either one of us has never actually spent the night. But I think I could sacrifice my “fancy moisturizers” and silk pyjama sets once in awhile.

#footballer x reader #world cup #football imagines #football one shot #fc barcelone #pablo gavi oneshots #pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #gavi imagines #gavi imagine

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minisugakoobies · 1 year ago

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Best friend’s bro trying to cheer OC up when they come home

🥺🥺🥺 Oh my god, YES, that is definitely something San would do!

So here's 700+ words about it. No warnings, other than PINING oh my god the pining!

******

Meetings with your editor are never your favorite thing. But today's meeting was especially stressful, given all the "cutting back" going on at work. The staff size is shrinking and you feel like your neck is on the chopping block.

It feels like you've run the gauntlet by the time you get home. Mentally exhausted, back aching from holding yourself upright so rigidly during the meeting, trying to look interested, like a good employee.

But to get into your apartment, you need a key, and right now, yours appears to have fallen into the Bermuda Triangle via your purse. Swearing profusely, you dig through your bag for a few minutes, before finally finding what you need.

The door opens, then stops suddenly, like there's a weight on the other side. "What the f-"

Nero greets you. Not on the ground. In the air.

You take a step back, baffled laughter leaving your lips. Your black cat is suspended in the crack of the doorway, bright green eyes blinking at you in similar confusion, San's hands gently wrapped around his middle. Around Nero's neck is his little fish-spotted bowtie, the one that makes him look like a proper gentleman.

"Nero?"

“Mrow?”

"Good afternoon, sajangnim," San's voice says from behind the door. He shifts Nero slightly, like he's snapping to attention. "Welcome home."

"Thank you," you giggle, giving Nero a chin scritch. You push on the door slightly, and San steps back, bringing Nero into his arms.

"Hi Noona," he grins. HIs fingers stroke the back of Nero's neck, which is one of Nero's favorite spots. Which San knows now, too. He and Nero are inseparable.

“When did Nero get a job as our doorman?” you ask, sliding your shoes off before slipping into your house shoes.

“Just today. And he’s doing such a good job, isn’t he?” San rubs Nero’s ears, earning a loud rumble in return. “Yes, he is.”

It’s too cute, the way San fawns over your cat. Like he knows Nero has a piece of your heart. So he protects him. Protects it.

It’s too cute and it’s too much to think about.

You don’t lay down so much as collapse onto your couch, a loose pile of bones sprawling across the cushions. San takes a spot on the floor, leaning back against the couch. Nero leaps from San’s arms up onto your legs, where he proceeds to bake biscuits in the meat of your thigh.

“Where’s Haneul?” you ask. Normally when San’s sister is working third shift, she’s up by now, zoning out in front of the tv until she has to get ready for work.

“Jongho took her out for breakfast slash dinner,” San informs you. “Just me and Nero home.”

“Well, good thing he’s here to keep you in line. And he got a promotion today, so I think someone’s earned an extra treat tonight.” Nero’s purring grows, ears pricking up at the word ‘treat.’

San passes you the remote. He watches you scroll through your Netflix queue for a few minutes. As your fingers run over Nero’s smooth coat, you wonder idly if San’s hair feels as soft as it looks.

“What about me?” San tips his head back, letting it rest on the cushion beneath your hips while he glances at you. “It was my idea to make him doorman.”

He pouts, but not his usual pout, not the one that makes you want to give him everything in the world, but a comic pout, bottom lip stretched to its limit, meant to do nothing more than to make you giggle. Which it does.

“Why’d you do that, anyway?”

Something shifts in San’s eyes.

“You said this morning that you had a meeting today. I remember how stressed you were after the last two. So when I heard you in the hall, cursing like a sailor, I figured maybe you could use a laugh.”

“Oh.” Looks like San knows other things now, too. “Oh, yeah, that’s - I did have a meeting. And it sucked. So, um, thanks.” Too many emotions swirl through you, your voice shrinking as you speak, unsure how to express how you feel. Or if you even should. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course.” When he smiles, your chest physically aches. “Anything to see you smile, Noona.”

There goes another piece of your heart.

*********

Previous installments of bff's lil bro San: one two three four

Tagging a few people who I think are interested @moni-logues @kiestrokes @augustbutwinter @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @yeontan-my-love

#ateez fanfic #bff's lil bro au #san #ateez fluff #ateez #thanks for the inspo luce #lovely moots #minttangerines #asks

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celosiaa · 1 year ago

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IV/Cannula

hehe this is for day 1 of mediwhumpmay, which I am now posting in October

tw: emeto, hospital setting

“Hey, there you are. Keep those eyes open for me, Blackwood.”

“Mmm…wh?”

Everything feels so, so heavy—god, he can barely see. His eyes must drift closed again, because before he knows it, the voice is back, this time pinching the skin on the inside of his arm.

“Eyes open, Martin, come on.” Pinching again.

Gauging his responsiveness, he knows. The thought floats above the whirling pool of all the others. His eyes flutter open, an effort to reassure the voice he slowly comes to recognize as the voice of his junior partner, Ben.

“Ff…fuck,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as he opens them. The vertigo was too much to bear—and with an awful rising feeling in his gut, he curls further onto his side and vomits.

The effort of this exhausts him, and he must lose time, for the next thing he is aware of is the earth rumbling beneath him. He prepares mentally for the end of the world, again—but upon fluttering his eyes open again, he discovers that the ambulance had just hit a bump in the road.

Ambulance. I’m at…work.

He snaps his eyes open again at the thought, attempting to sit up, only to find himself strapped into something.

The stretcher.

“Lie back, Martin, just relax—“

Darkness.

—

Jon hates the hospital. Hates it.

He would do just about anything to avoid coming here, especially to A&E. The crowding, the noise, the smell of antiseptic…the desperation of all the people waiting for hours upon hours to be seen.

He doesn’t understand how Martin can cope with this every day.

It’s already been a long walk from the train station, and Jon’s heart is pounding—from this as well as the call that he’d received from Ben, telling him that his husband collapsed on the job and is being cared for here.

Jon knew he shouldn’t have gone into work that day. And he’d told him as much, many times. Martin had been ill over the holidays, but due to the nature of his work, had needed to go in anyway. Especially with the increased number of accidents, injuries, and illnesses that tend to make themselves known during this season. Added to that, a bug had been working its way through their ranks, taking down one medic after the next. Martin had assured Jon that he felt alright enough to cover for his indisposed coworkers, but…

Obviously, that had not been the case.

With a sigh, Jon leans a little heavier upon his cane, still in the triage queue. He needs to calm down, not let this frustration get the better of him. As much as an “I told you so” might be warranted here…god knows Martin had spared him many such conversations that Jon himself had certainly deserved.

At last, the person behind the desk waves him forward.

“I’m here to see my husband, please.”

“Name?”

“Martin Blackwood-Sims. I was told he’s in bay thirty-three.”

“Hmm…” They click around on their computer a few times before looking back up at him. “Looks like he’s on respiratory precautions. Please take a mask to protect yourself.”

Jon sighs, the anger bubbling up in his chest again.

I told you, Martin. I told you.

Not helpful.

He swallows it the best that he can, fitting the loops of the mask over his ears before following the nurse through the double doors.

“Straight back this way, and you should see him,” the nurse says, and turns back to their post.

Jon hadn’t needed the directions. From where he entered, he saw him—his husband, pale faced, propped up on several pillows and getting an IV placed.

Be calm. Breathe. Breathe.

Jon hates this; god he hates it here—and he’s absolutely livid that Martin never listens to him, and now look where it’s gotten him. Now they both have to be here, with all the people and the noise and the memories—

He feels suddenly quite weightless in the relentless onslaught of emotions, and wishes desperately for somewhere to sit. Not by Martin, not quite yet. Everything is all tangled up in itself, in the past, in the fear of this place. And his husband needs him calm. Calm and supportive, just as Martin has done so many times for him.

Braced against the wall of the corridor and his cane, Jon allows his eyes to fall closed, to focus on his breath for a moment. It’s just this breath. And the next. And the next.

Bless Martin for teaching him this technique.

When he opens his eyes, he feels a gentle wave of calm. Not perfect, but it will get him through and allow him to be there for Martin, who is now alone in his bay, eyes closed and exhausted.

That is, until they reopen and alight on Jon, walking toward him. Immediately, Martin’s hands reach up to cover his face—the tips of his ears reddening with shame, even as the rest of him retains that unnerving pallor.

“Oh God, Jon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Martin…”

“I swear I didn’t mean to—to cause such a fuss, I didn’t—“

”Martin,” Jon pleads, more forcefully this. Time as he eyes his oxygen saturation on the monitor. “Breathe, habibi. You’re alright.”

As the monitor starts to alarm, Martin seems to realize that he’s gasping for air—and that sets him into a coughing fit, worse even than he’d been showing at home. Jon’s stomach drops just listening. And even more so when a nurse comes in to silence the alarm, reaching for the plastic tubing of the nasal cannula that Jon knows all too well.

“That’s quite the nasty cough there, Mr. Blackwood.”

Jon is hit with another sudden wave of irritation—obviously, its a bad cough, obviously, that’s why he’s in the damn A&E.

He needs to calm down before he snaps at someone and makes the whole damned situation even worse.

“Sorry,” Martin croaks, the fit ending. “I’m alright, I—sorry.”

“No need to apologize love. Just keep that oxygen on, alright?”

Saying this, the nurse leaves, and Martin sinks further into his bed, exhausted. Jon’s heart twinges painfully, and he extends his hand to Martin’s—and just as he’d hoped, Martin opens his eyes at the contact, smile weary but warm as he takes his hand in turn.

“What happened, Martin?” Jon asks, desperately. “Ben called me, you know. Told me you collapsed.”

“Oh no—no, love, I’m alright, really, I’m okay. Just took a bit of a tumble.”

Martin gives him another embarrassed smile, trying to sit up straighter, and Jon can’t take it anymore.

“If that’s what you want to call it, fine,” he snaps.

He regrets it immediately. Martin’s face is stricken, smile disappearing, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry, Jon—“

“No, Martin, I—“

“Are you okay?”

Martin leans closer, putting his other hand over Jon’s, the one with the IV. Still so pale, clammy. And concerned. Martin is worrying over him, even here while he’s the one in the hospital bed.

Jon takes a deeper breath than he has since he received the phone call, closing his eyes as Martin gently squeezes his hand between both of his own.

Oh, Martin.

“Thank you,” says Martin softly, “for being here with me, habibi. I know this is…a difficult place for you to be. So thank you.”

That is too much, far too much.

“Don’t thank me,” Jon chokes around a lump in his throat he can’t quite swallow. “Don’t. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, it’s just...”

“Memories.”

“Yes.”

Martin squeezes his hand again, and Jon opens his eyes. Still there, still Martin, despite everything. Jon moves closer, using his free hand to brush Martin’s sweat soaked hair back from his forehead.

“I’m here for you, habibi. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m here for you,” Martin replies earnestly, breaking off momentarily to muffle a chest-rattling cough into his elbow. “We can…we can b—ha, both...”

“Shh, hush now,” Jon whispers lowly, reaching for the call light on Martin’s bed.

“We…we’ve got…each other,” Martin pants, letting Jon anxiously fuss over his blankets and his nasal cannula.

“I know, darling.” He rests a gentle hand on Martin’s laboring chest, a reminder that he’s here, he’s here.

“I know.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #my writing #in case anyone doesn't know my Jon has POTS #and is also Jordanian #hence the “habibi”#and martin is a paramedic

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evilsoup · 9 months ago

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my grandma had a fall last night and another this morning. Eventually an ambulance got to her at about 4.30pm today. She's going to be staying overnight in the ambulance, which is in a queue of ambulances outside the local hospital; this hospital has actually just stepped down from "critical incident" status, the fourth such they have declared since the start of 2024 (it's March 2024 as I write this) -- so this state of affairs is actually below the emergency threshold, this is a "normal" state of operation for a hospital in the UK in 2024.

This is ten years of the tories in power, slicing up the NHS so that what was once genuinely one of the best health services in the world is nowinto a bad joke. Maybe once there was fat to be cut, but they've gone through the muscle and half the bone; the structure is starting to collapse. And this is also the case for all social services. There are homeless people camping in tents around my city, something that hasn't happened since the 1980s but has been picking up in the last few years. There's plenty of money for persecuting asylum seekers or aiding the Israeli genocide in Gaza (where the RAF flies scouting missions for the IDF and the Royal Navy sorties alongside the US Navy to break the Houthi anti-genocide blockade) or contracting big tory donors to carry out work for the public sector at inflated margins or giving unlimited financial support to private train companies to break a strike; and because of this -- in order to facilitate this looting of the state sector, my grandma is staying overnight in a fucking ambulance.

The labour party is no better. They have essentially taken on a tory policy-set and right-wing nationalist ideology. The previous labour leadership were different -- and so were smeared in the press as friends of terrorists and as antisemites. Absurd lies to anyone who was paying attention, but an absurd lie repeated enough can trump the truth; "there's no smoke without fire" say the guys with the smoke machine. And so now we get migrant-bashing genocide-enabling austerity-mongering patriot scum leading the labour party. At least tony blair brought in surestart centres and raised a million children out of poverty.

It used to be the case that we had to argue that socialism was not possible by a reformist path, citing examples like Chile. Now it seems that basic social-democratic reforms are not even possible by a reformist path; "fund the NHS" becomes something approaching a transitional demand, and to most people who don't believe that political change is possible even this sounds like an absurd ultraleft slogan.

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waywardxrhea · 9 months ago

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Chapter 7 - Walls

What happens when you lie to the Devil? How long can one woman keep a lifetime of secrets from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen? The answer may surprise you...

installment list

pairing: Matt Murdock x enhanced!fem!OC

series content: coffee shop AU, fluff, humor, friends to lovers, pining, language, canon typical violence, angst, drinking, implied smut, medical emergencies, mental health disorders (PTSD, panic disorder), implied smut.

"i'm gonna break down these walls i built around myself. i wanna fall so in love with you and no one else could ever mean half as much to me as you do now. together we'll move on, just don't turn around. let the walls break down." - walls, all time low

word count: 4.7k

Some walls between Crystal and Matt come crashing down.

The next night couldn’t have been more different from karaoke at Stardust. That’s because that evening, Crystal found herself with Daredevil crouched in what remained of the same tunnel system that collapsed weeks before. “So you think that he’s actually here? The man in charge?” she whispered as Daredevil listened into what was happening up above them in the building that seemed to be where all of the tunnels originated from.

“Yes, I know it,” he told her. “I’ve heard three men address him by name. So unless my intel is wrong about who he is, then I’m sure.”

“So then what’s the plan? Surely they’re armed to the teeth in there, you can’t just go in and get their boss without taking some fire, and no offense, but that shirt isn’t exactly bulletproof…” Crystal told him.

Daredevil scoffed humorously before saying, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were concerned about me.”

“And if I am?” she asked. “I will admit that I’ve…enjoyed these last few weeks working together.”

“Surprisingly I have too,” he admitted. His tone turned serious again as he said, “The plan is to have you put up stone walls between Ranklin and his men. Then you’ll open up a spot where I can get in to take him out. From there we’ll use the tunnels to get him out of here and to the precinct. Detective Mahoney knows the plan and will be waiting for me.”

“He knows-?” Crystal started to ask, her heart rate and fear spiking at the words.

“Not about you, about me bringing him in,” Daredevil clarified quickly.

His ear turned upward toward the building and he whispered, “It’s time. He’s in the hall directly above us.” He listened for a few more seconds before telling her, “He’s got men on either side of him. Put up a wall here and…here, that should separate them.”

“Got it,” she told him, creating steps on the stone so she could reach her arms to either place at the same time.

“Now!”

On queue, Crystal slammed her fists up into the stone causing walls to build up into the hallway above and chaos to ensue as the man in charge was boxed in. Working quickly, she also created a hole in the space that Daredevil pulled Ranklin down through before dealing a blow to his temple. The man crumbled to the ground and Crystal resealed the hole above them.

“I’m impressed,” she told him with a brief slow clap at how efficiently he got the job done. “You should get moving though before his men figure out what’s going on. I’ll meet you after you take him in.”

“You sure you still don’t want to be involved in this? It may be better to get ahead of the press before they run a story you don’t want them telling,” Daredevil told her as he hiked the man onto his shoulders.

“I’m sure,” she told him before creating an opening for him down the way and going in the opposite direction to throw off any reporters that may have been lurking in the area.

Crystal waited for a few minutes after Daredevil turned over custody of the man to Mahoney before using her powers to scale up to the top of the building she saw him on top of. As she landed a little roughly on her feet, she staggered when her heart gave an irregular stutter before going into overdrive once again.

She tried to get to her feet, but when she did, she got light-headed and began falling backwards toward the edge of the building. Before she could tumble off though, Daredevil was quickly by her side, pulling her into his strong arms before helping her to a nearby AC unit to lean against.

“Your heart…” he mumbled, placing his fingers on her carotid to assess her pulse. Crystal tried to control her breathing in order to slow down her heart, but was unsuccessful and she began to lose focus of her surroundings. “I need to get you to a hospital…” he mumbled, lifting her into his arms carefully.

With black threatening to engulf her vision any second and panic beginning to set in at the severity of the episode, Crystal dropped her American accent without thinking and told him in her usual one, “No, no hospital, please…” After she said this, Crystal could have sworn she saw Daredevil’s lips part open in shock and heard him whisper her name under his breath, but wasn’t sure as black engulfed her vision and she lost consciousness.

For what felt like mere moments, Crystal blacked out, only to come to in a living space she had never seen before. As her eyes fluttered open she was met with the bright light of a billboard shining through the large windows of the living space. “Where the-?” she whispered to herself, her heart kicking up in anxiety once more. As she whispered that she also realized that she was no longer wearing her balaclava or hat and began frantically reaching around the couch she found herself on to find them.

“You’re safe,” came the voice of Daredevil from behind her, interrupting her search for the two pieces of clothing that hid her identity. What gave her a bigger shock than waking up in a stranger’s flat though was when she turned to look at Daredevil and saw him pull off his mask before saying again, “You’re safe Crystal.” It was Matt.

“You, you’re, I-” Crystal stuttered out as shock continued to fill her body at the revelation. Matt Murdock was Daredevil?

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, breathe,” he whispered as he skillfully navigated his way to sit beside her on the leather couch, running a hand up and down her back to try and calm her down. Once her breathing and heart rate were back to normal, Matt asked, “Are you okay?”

Crystal scoffed before saying, “I mean okay is a relative term… I’d say shock is the best way to describe what I’m feeling right now.”

“And that’s completely understandable,” he told her. “Can I grab you some water? Let you think for a minute before we…address everything?”

“Oh, sure…” she whispered, feeling like she was having an out of body experience. After he returned and she drank nearly half the cup of water, she finally found her words, asking, “Okay, I mean absolutely no offense by this, but how…?” She trailed off at the end, unsure of how to finish her thought.

“How can I do what I do as Daredevil if I’m blind?” Matt asked with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, that…” Crystal mumbled. She hesitated for a moment before asking quietly, “Are…are you actually…?”

“Blind? Yeah,” Matt replied, a huff of air leaving his nose. He leaned back onto the couch as he told her, “When I was nine I was involved in an accident that resulted in losing my sight. From that moment on though, all my other senses were heightened. I was trained how to use them to my advantage and now…”

“Now you’re essentially a crime fighting ninja…” Crystal said with a quiet laugh.

“If that’s how you see what I do, then yes,” Matt replied, a smile tugging on his lips at the joke. “When it first happened I was like you in thinking that because I was given such a gift, God chose to punish me by taking away my sense of sight.”

Crystal nodded and was quiet for a moment before saying, “Right before I…I passed out, I heard you say my name. How did you know it was me?”

“I suspected for a while, but when your heart started acting up that’s when I knew,” he admitted. “The accent always threw me off when I started thinking about it too much though,” he added with a shrug.

She laughed before admitting, “The accent was something I did in an absolute panic when you cornered me for the first time.”

Matt laughed and told her, “See, I thought I could tell that when you spoke it wasn’t your normal, but I just thought maybe you were pitching up or down, not using a whole different accent…”

Crystal shrugged a bit before asking, “So when we first worked together, you said you could hear the police officers’ hearts and that’s how you knew they were there. So when I have an episode…?”

“I can hear it, yeah. And it’s terrifying to me. I can't imagine how it is for you…” he said. “When it happened at Stardust I had to pretend that I couldn’t hear the decreasing amount of blood getting to your brain and the rest of your heart and I… I just froze because I was terrified of what could have happened if it didn’t get under control.”

“I’m sorry for putting you through that, I-” she tried to say but was stopped by Matt putting his hand up to stop her.

“Don’t apologize for something that’s completely out of your control,” he told her, taking her hand in his and rubbing circles over the back of it. “Why don’t you get it fixed? Once you told me what it was I… I kinda looked into it and it’s treatable, so why don’t you?”

“Oh, uh… I mean health insurance at Stardust isn’t the best and all…” she mumbled quietly.

Matt’s gaze landed on her heart for a few moments before saying, “That isn’t the whole truth.”

“H-how…?”

“I’m a really good lawyer,” Matt said, a wide smile making its way onto his face at his own joke. “But really, I can tell when people lie by listening to their heart. Well…most of the time. You seem to be the one person I have a hard time reading sometimes.”

“Because of the stutters in my heart,” Crystal said, nodding her head in realization.

“Exactly. It’s like a puzzle trying to solve you some days and I have to admit it’s my favorite pastime,” Matt said, subtly moving closer to her on the leather couch.

Crystal’s heart began to pound inside her chest as Matt’s fingers ghosted their way from her jaw to right above her heart. She finally dared to glance up at Matt's face, framed by his tousled hair and then at his hazel eyes that she had never seen without his red lenses. He was a sight to be seen, that's for sure... She glanced down to where Matt’s hand rested then looked up to admire his handsome face again, before whispering, “Is it now?” breathlessly, the words barely audible to her own ears as she said them. She felt as though her breath was coming in even shallower now the closer he got to her.

Matt nodded and told her, “The sounds your body makes are…unique. Your heartbeat is one of the most distinct ones I’ve ever heard. And your accent, God your accent is so beautiful.” His fingers began making their way back up to her jaw, then stopped right beside her lips and he added, “And that damn lip gloss you wear. You always match it to your perfume and some days it’s so intoxicating that I just want to…” His words trailed off as he moved to rest his forehead on hers, asking, “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” she whispered, the word almost sounding desperate as she said it.

And just like that, Matt gently pressed his lips to Crystal's, his hand drifting to the back of her neck to hold her in place, seemingly not wanting the kiss to end. After only a few moments though Crystal pulled away gently yet abruptly. This swift motion seemed to shock Matt, the emotion audible in his voice as he said, “I-I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

Crystal sighed quietly, digging her nails into her thighs as she whispered, "No, I just...” She let out a rough breath before finishing, “Bad things tend to happen to people I care about. I… I don't want something to happen to you."

In response, Matt coaxed her hand into his and squeezed gently before telling her, "I've had the same outlook for years, but... You can't give into the fear. If you do then you'll always regret what could have been."

After thinking over his words for a few moments, Crystal nodded and said, “I’m tired of being afraid…” before leaning back in for a proper kiss.

With her panicked thoughts pushed aside now, Crystal sank into the kiss, a feeling of complete bliss filling her body as her lips danced with his, never wanting the moment to end. The kiss ended all too quickly though as Matt pulled away a few moments later, resting his forehead against hers once again as he let out a satisfied sigh, whispering, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long…”

“Me too…” she said with a quiet laugh, leaning in once more for a quick kiss. “God, I could kiss you all night…”

“How about Friday night after I take you on a date?” Matt asked, placing a kiss to her cheek this time.

“That was smooth, Murdock,” Crystal told him with a laugh. “But yes, I think I would quite enjoy that.”

“Then a date it is. Friday evening at the Thai place down the road from Stardust?” Matt asked.

An excited gasp left Crystal’s lips as she gushed, “That’s my favorite restaurant! How did you-?” She stopped in the middle of her sentence, a realization dawning on her as she asked, “Wait you knew didn’t you? You’ve heard me talk about it before haven’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he confessed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Wait…so if you’ve heard me talking about that with Raeyes then…” She groaned as she put her face in her hands, heat rising into her cheeks at the many thoughts racing around her head.

“You’re blushing,” Matt said, the smirk evident in his voice.

“And you know that too… God how many embarrassing things have you heard me say or do?” She gasped as she said, “You totally knew when I was blushing when you flirted with me!”

“Yes, and I think it’s adorable,” he told her, that charming smile once again gracing his lips.

“Embarrassing more like…” she mumbled into her hands as she shook her head.

“I think the way your body reacts to me is very attractive. Don’t let that mind of yours think otherwise,” he told her.

Crystal laughed before saying, “This is going to take some getting used to…”

Friday night rolled around and Crystal was just finishing up getting ready for her date with Matt with Raeyes’s help. As Raeyes curled Crystal’s hair, she said excitedly, “I can’t believe you’re finally going on this date! How excited are you? Because I know that I’m excited for you!”

Crystal laughed nervously before replying, “I’m actually quite nervous…”

“No, no, no, no nerves, turn that energy into excitement! It’s your first first date in like…four years! These are exciting times!” Raeyes told her as she fluffed out the curls in Crystal’s hair. Raeyes rested her hands on Crystal’s shoulders and said with a devious smile, “Et voila! Your hair is perfect, but by the end of the night I expect it to be absolutely ruined!”

“Rae!” Crystal gasped in shock at the lewd comment.

“I’m just saying! A man that fine has got to be great in bed and I expect that my work of art is going to be destroyed!” Raeyes teased once again as Crystal stood up from the dining chair to lightly punch her roommate in the shoulder.

Heat instantly flooded Crystal’s face as she heard a knock at the door to their flat indicating that Matt was in the hall, presumably listening to the entire exchange. Raeyes let out a squeal of excitement and shoved Crystal’s purse into her hands before hugging her and saying, “Have a good night, make good choices, I don’t want to see you again ‘til tomorrow!”

Crystal couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at the words before she took a deep breath and headed toward the door to greet Matt. When she opened it, Crystal was immediately met with Matt’s charming smile as he greeted her, taking her hand and placing a kiss atop it.

“So she doesn’t want to see you til tomorrow huh?” Matt asked in a sly tone as they walked together toward the lift, his hand wrapped around her bicep rather than using his cane, even though at this point Crystal now guessed that it was just for show anyway.

“How much of that did you hear?” Crystal asked, her eyes scrunching closed in embarrassment at the question.

“For transparency’s sake, the whole thing,” he replied with a laugh as they stepped into the lift.

“I am so sorry about her, she’s just…excited for me,” Crystal said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“And what about you? I can’t help but pick up on some nerves and making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want to do right now.” He ran his hand over the soft fabric of her dress as it made its way to her hip before telling her, “I may have bought some of that rosé you like so much with the intent of bringing you back to my place tonight so…”

“It shouldn’t be legal to be this suave…” Crystal told him, a smile breaking out onto her face at the prospect.

“There is in fact no law against it,” Matt said as the lift door opened and they exited.

“Oh right, Mr. Top Honors in law school,” Crystal joked.

Her tone turned serious though as she took a deep breath and said, “Well if we’re being transparent here, then we might as well get the awkward part out of the way yeah?”

“If you’re okay with sharing,” Matt told her.

“Well, better to say it now while we’re still in the building in case you…change your mind about this date…” Crystal said, slowing down their pace as they approached the doors. Deciding it would be best to just rip the band-aid off, she found herself rambling, telling Matt, “Well considering that you said you heard everything Raeyes said in the flat, you heard that it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a first date and I certainly haven’t even thought about it since I moved here. That’s because my…my last partner passed away and until now I haven’t been able to convince myself that I’m ready to date again… I mean don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely enamored with you and I want to be here, I just wanted you to know in case that’s kinda, I dunno… a-”

“Crystal, Crystal,” Matt said, running his hand down her arm and grabbing her hand, signalling her to stop.

“Sorry, I, uh… God I keep mucking this up, don’t I?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose as she sighed in defeat. When she opened her eyes she saw a broad smile on Matt’s face, something he tended to do when she used a particularly British term around him. She laughed incredulously before asking, “This isn’t completely awkward and a turn off for you?”

“No, it’s not. Your rambling is actually endearing and you’re sharing things that need to be known going forward. I appreciate that,” he told her, taking her hands in his. “Now, I would still love for this date to happen, but if you’re not ready we don’t have to. Having someone you love die is one of the worst feelings and I understand if you aren’t ready.”

“How do you always know the bloody right thing to say Murdock?” Crystal asked, her gaze finally returning to his face which was filled with sincerity.

“I do persuade people to do the right thing for a living,” Matt said with a shrug. “So, would you like to try again another time or would you like to continue?”

“I would love to see where this goes…” she told him, feeling a light blush on her cheeks as she smiled at him.

“Me too,” he said as they turned and continued making their way to the Thai restaurant.

Once they made it to the restaurant and began chatting, Crystal began to feel her nerves drifting away the more Matt made her laugh and the more he continued to flirt with her.

When they got their food, Crystal asked, “So do you have any family here in Hell’s Kitchen?”

Matt briefly raised his eyebrows and let out a quiet laugh before saying, “Believe it or not, I just found out who my mother is last year.”

“Oh?” Crystal asked curiously.

“Yeah. My dad was a boxer and he raised me by himself until he got killed because he won a match he wasn’t supposed to. After that I went to St. Agnes, the orphanage run by Clinton Church, and was raised by the nuns there. Turns out one of those nuns is my mother. Found that out rather unceremoniously, but…we’ve been working on our relationship.”

“Oh wow, that’s… I’m sorry about your dad, Matt…” Crystal whispered, a hand covering her mouth in slight shock.

“Thank you. It’s been a lifetime of trying, but I’m trying to accept that maybe everything does happen for a reason,” he told her with a small smile on his lips. After a bite of food, he asked, “What about you? Any family back in London?”

“Blood relatives, yes. Would I consider us family, no,” she told him with a shrug. “Mum died just a couple months before I left and I’m dead to my father and brother.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your mom,” he said with a nod, taking her hand across the table and squeezing it comfortingly. Using a brighter tone, he asked, “You have a brother? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned him.”

“Twin brother actually, he uh…he sorta hates me. I mean, I get it, when you have a twin sister who can do what I do and you can’t you tend to get jealous.” She scoffed and added, “Mum was really the only person who kept us from killing each other, and once she was gone he and father turned hateful. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”

“Well whatever the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here,” Matt told her. “For me, Foggy’s the closest thing I have to a brother. Since we met at Columbia his family’s treated me like their own. We only tend to nearly kill each other occasionally.”

“With you, I have no doubt you mean that literally,” Crystal said with a laugh.

“Guilty as charged,” he said.

When there was a lull in the conversation a few minutes later, Crystal asked, “What’s your favorite candy?”

After a few moments of silence, Matt finally replied, “Well, because of…certain aspects of my senses, I tend to like organic dark chocolates. The less processing something has the better. What about you?”

“Well this is something that has changed since I came here, but… I’ve got the biggest sweet tooth for strawberry mentos. Raeyes says I have an obsession, which I think is an overstatement, but…”

“But you also had several when you were getting ready for tonight,” Matt said, a playful smirk on his lips.

“How did you-” she started to say but then laughed, saying, “Right. Nevermind. Still gotta get used to that.”

“It took Foggy and Karen a while to get used to it as well.”

Crystal raised an eyebrow before asking, “Oh so Foggy and Karen know about…?”

He nodded, saying, “Foggy found out himself and I ended up telling Karen.”

“Does Marci?”

“No. And we intend on keeping it that way. The more people who know, the harder it is to keep them and myself safe,” he said. He took a sip from his drink before asking, “Does Raeyes know about you?”

Crystal nodded, telling him, “I told her that first night we worked together.” She laughed before admitting, “At first she thought I was going out to hook up with you actually. I thought about telling her I was but then I felt like she would start prying when you visited the shop. Turns out I was with you just…not in that way.”

“So you have thought about shagging me?” he asked, a shit-eating grin on his face as a furious blush made its way onto Crystal’s cheeks.

Crystal fumbled over her words for a few seconds before finally settling on, “I plead the fifth."

“Fair enough,” Matt said, seemingly unable to stop grinning at her reaction to his comment.

Before he could offer anything more up in the conversation, the server came over to their table and asked, “Anything else I can get for you two tonight? Dessert maybe?”

“Just the check, thank you,” Matt told her with a warm smile. As she walked away, he told Crystal, “I forgot to mention I bought ingredients to make brownies to go with the wine when we get back to my place.”

“You really know the way to a girl’s heart, don’t you?” Crystal asked, feeling a warmth rise in her chest at all of the gestures Matt had made throughout the night already.

“I’m honestly grasping for straws here,” he told her with a laugh.

“Well you’re doing a bang up job,” she replied.

“And I intend on continuing that back at my place,” he said, sending her a wink behind his red lenses.

The next morning, Crystal’s eyes fluttered open as light began filtering through the curtains in Matt’s bedroom. “Good morning, beautiful,” Matt’s groggy voice said as he tightened his hold around her.

“Good morning, handsome,” she mumbled back, lazily running her fingers over his toned abdominal muscles. As she snuggled her body closer to Matt, she asked, “Want me to make breakfast? I’ve got a brilliant quiche recipe.”

“You know, most women I’ve ever had over don’t offer to cook the next morning,” Matt told her with a chuckle, running his hand over her bare skin, a chill following in its wake.

“Yes, well, I thought we established that I’m not like most other women you’ve dated,” she told him with a quiet laugh. She turned her face toward his, kissing his jaw before telling him, “Now I’m going to go make breakfast before we get distracted with part two of last night.”

“I wouldn’t mind skipping breakfast for that,” Matt told her before kissing the top of her head and pulling her body on top of his.

“You’re making this really hard, Murdock,” Crystal said with a giggle. “But you thoroughly wore me out last night and now I’m starving, so food is a must.”

“I’ll just wear you out again after,” Matt told her playfully as he let her get up from the bed, offering her a shirt from his dresser. Crystal pulled on the shirt and her knickers before quietly padding into the kitchen to begin cooking breakfast.

As they ate breakfast together soon after, Matt placed his fork on the table before saying, “Okay, I can’t try to ignore it anymore. Is everything okay? You’ve been acting almost…cautious this morning and you didn’t sing while you cooked like you usually do. Did…did I do something wrong? Was I too-?”

“No, no, no, you were perfect! It’s nothing you did, I promise,” Crystal blurted out, stopping him before he could try and blame himself for her behavior. She scratched the back of her neck before admitting, “I just started overthinking is all… It’s just…knowing how your senses work I got to thinking and I just feel incredibly annoying. I feel like every noise I make is too loud and I-”

“You didn’t seem to be worried about that last night,” he said with a cocky smirk. Crystal opened and closed her mouth as she tried to come up with a witty response, but couldn’t, so Matt teased, “You’re blushing.”

“Sorry…” she said bashfully as she took a sip of her juice.

“Don’t be, like I told you last night, the way your body reacts to me is incredibly attractive,” he told her warmly. “And don’t worry about being cautious or quiet around me. I know how to tune out what I don’t want to listen to, and you…you’re something I will never get tired of listening to.”

“I’ll try not to think about it too much,” she agreed.

“Good. Now how about we head back to my room and you make good on your promise? You got me thinking about last night, and well…” he said, pulling her close and into a passionate kiss.

“I think we can make that happen…” she said between kisses as she jumped into his strong arms before he carried her off to the bedroom once more.

next chapter

#daredevil #daredevil x oc #matt murdock #matt murdock x oc #fanfic #marvel #romance #friends to lovers #short fanfic #coffee shop au

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