#thank you kind person with excellent taste | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pascaloverx · 24 days ago

Text

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading. This chapter contains violence and sexual content.

FIVE SEVEN

SIX (+18)

A few days later, after several visits to the hospital pretending to be Steve Rogers' wife, he is finally being discharged today. His recovery has been remarkable; he no longer needs support for his arm, only a brace. Naturally, you came to pick him up from the hospital, ready for your last performance as his wife and to return his car that you've been using. Sure, you have your own car, but it doesn’t quite compare to Steve’s. As soon as you walk into the hospital, you spot your fake husband bidding farewell to the medical staff.

"My beautiful wife, light of my life. Come and thank these wonderful people with me for the excellent job they did taking care of my arm and ensuring I’ll never have financial stability again," Steve says playfully, as he bids farewell to a group of nurses escorting him to the hospital entrance. You laugh as you approach him, and he pulls you into an embrace. You nestle gently against his chest, placing his arm around your shoulder so he can lean on you for support.

"Your husband is a very kind man, we’re going to miss him; he has some great stories," one of the nurses says, sounding quite interested in Steve. You smile faintly, imagining the nonsense Steve must have shared while he was either drugged or simply bored.

"He really is great at telling stories. Thank you all for taking such good care of him, I don’t know what I’d do without my precious husband," you say, placing a lingering kiss on Rogers' cheek. He looks into your eyes, as if you were a forbidden fruit he longed to taste. After the goodbyes, you both head to the parking lot.

"Where did you leave your car?" Steve asks, his arm somehow still draped around you. You smile a bit sheepishly and point to his car, just ahead of where you stand.

"As your wife, I had to borrow something personal of yours, you know, to make it seem real," you explain, trying to justify yourself as you watch Steve pull away and rush to his car, checking it over to ensure everything’s intact.

"No one would’ve known that your car belongs exclusively to you, my dear fake wife. But since there’s no damage, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Now hand over the keys," Steve says confidently, as if he's ready to drive. But you shake your head, denying him the keys.

"The doctor said yesterday that you need to rest your arm for the next few days, and that’s why I came to pick you up—to take you home. After this, I suggest you call a ride service, a taxi, or use public transport," you say, opening the passenger door for him. He gives you a reluctant look, clearly displeased with not driving. Yet something in your fierce gaze and impatient grunt convinces Steve to get into the car, and soon enough, feeling victorious, you get in as well. In no time, you’re driving toward Steve’s house.

"My house is nearby. You must be wondering how I'm already living in a place, considering I just got back to the city," Steve says, fidgeting with his fingers, his voice a little slurred as if still under the influence of painkillers. "I'm staying in Bucky's old place. He's probably furious that he can't go back there—it would’ve made a good hideout. Maybe that's why he shot me. Or maybe it was Natasha's idea." He mumbles some of his words, and you try to keep a neutral expression, knowing full well that he’s aware it was either one of them who shot him.

"How do you know it was one of them? It could've been anyone. And if you don’t mind me asking, who is Natasha?" Your award-worthy performance of feigned ignorance seems almost convincing even to yourself. You watch as Steve stops fiddling with his fingers—despite the brace—and looks at you, as if carefully considering his response. He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking.

"As for the shot, you already know. Even when I’m not all here, I can still tell when you're lying. But Natasha... she was Bucky’s partner before he started working with the wrong people. They had a pretty close partnership, you could say. It was the first time in years I thought Bucky could actually have a healthy relationship with someone. They loved avoiding unnecessary emotions, obsessed with fieldwork, and even today, they’re both still great marksmen."

Steve pauses, his frustration palpable, and continues, "Their partnership ended when Bucky took on an undercover mission that was too dangerous for Romanoff. She didn’t want to lose herself in the disguise. I’m betting he ran straight to her for help, and that pisses me off. He could’ve come to me—I would’ve helped him. Now it’s my job to bring him in for questioning." His frustration boils over as he bangs his braced arm against the car's dashboard, letting out a grunt. You can’t quite tell if it’s the pain or the possibility of a scratch on the car that bothers him more. As he speaks, you finally start piecing together the puzzle of Barnes' past life and who Natasha is to him, though only on a surface level.

"Surely he must have had a good reason for not reaching out to you. As for him being your possible shooter, it seems foolish to believe there's any justification for him to have put your well-being at risk. Maybe he’s no longer your best friend; perhaps he’s just a reckless man." You speak, carefully holding back your true thoughts. This might be the perfect moment to reveal everything you know to Steve Rogers, to make it clear that you’re aware of much more than you let on. But you can’t bring yourself to do it. You feel like a pathetic fool, unwilling to risk your crush being put in jeopardy.

"You two had a fight while I was in the hospital, didn’t you? Your words are so sincere; you must really believe Bucky is an idiot for shooting me. Well, know that he isn’t. The shot was practically perfect, it didn’t do much damage. He’s just trying to keep me away. But he’s not a cruel or reckless man." Steve says, looking at you as if searching for a reaction that confirms his suspicions. You park the car in front of the address Steve gave you and lean closer after unbuckling your seatbelt, then do the same for him.

"Mr. Rogers, understand once and for all that your friend and I have nothing. Why would a man with such a dangerous life want anything to do with a mere bakery owner? It doesn’t make sense. But I hope things get clarified between you two soon. Now let me help you to your house, and then we’ll part ways and never see each other again," you say, locking eyes with him as you undo his seatbelt.

Steve's face, which was almost smiling, turns serious. "I want another date; our last one was definitely interrupted." He leans in slightly closer, your faces mere inches apart. You’re taken by surprise, trying to fathom what Steve could possibly want from you now.

"Let's get inside your house quickly; the painkillers must be talking for you. In case you don't remember, your only interest in me is to know about your Bucky, nothing to do with wanting my company," you say firmly, noticing him staring at your lips as he contemplates his response.

"That was before you saved my life. Now my interest in you is personal. I promise to try not to expose your lies on this second date. How about I pick you up in a week when my doctor says I can start putting effort into my arm again?" Steve replies, a hint of determination in his eyes.

"You just said that whoever shot you didn't intend to kill you, Mr. Rogers. I merely took you to a hospital," you say as you exit the car, then open the passenger door and lean toward him. "And I don't understand the need for your arm's recovery. Now, put your arm around my neck, and let's go inside; it's getting cold out here." It really is getting colder since you left the hospital. He leans on you, remaining silent, likely fearing that you might let go if you get annoyed or uncomfortable with something he says. It’s only when you both enter his house with some difficulty, and you lay him down on his large, comfortable sofa, that he grabs your hand before you can step away.

“I need my good arm to be free so I can give you all the fun and pleasure a real date with me could offer. Give me that chance, and I promise I won’t bother you again,” Steve says, smiling as he looks up at you.

You contemplate his face for a few moments, considering whether you truly want to go on a date with Steve. Gently, you caress his hand before moving it away from your arm.

"Next week, make that proposal to me again—with your arm fully recovered. Let’s see what my answer will be then. For now, I'm going home. Take care of yourself, Mr. Rogers," you say as you watch him give you a victorious smile. Before leaving Steve’s house, you place his car keys on the kitchen counter.

As you hear him shout a "See you next week," you take a rideshare back to your apartment, eager to rest. However, upon arriving at your door, a sense of alertness washes over you. Given the recent events, you had decided to keep a can of pepper spray in your bag for self-defense. If some thug were to try to rummage through your things or rob you, they would certainly regret it. Without hesitation, you slowly open the door and spray pepper spray at the first figure you see in front of you. Barnes lets out a grunt of pain, murmuring "fuck, fuck, fuck" repeatedly as he covers his eyes.

“What the hell do you think you're doing? This stuff got in my eyes!” Barnes growls, writhing as he tries to rub the pepper spray out. Without hesitation, you rush to the kitchen, grabbing cold water and a cloth.

“Hold still, I’m trying to help,” you say, but he pulls back sharply, resisting your touch. Your patience snaps. Pushing him against the counter, you press your body firmly against his, taking control of the situation. You pull his hands away from his face with swift determination and begin gently wiping his eyes with the cold, damp cloth. As you carefully clean the remaining spray, his tense frame finally stills, allowing you to tend to him without further protest.

"Apparently, you must have suffered some kind of brain damage if you think trying to shoot me compares to me simply defending myself from an intruder. We're nowhere near being even, Barnes." You place the cloth down on the kitchen counter and turn to take in your apartment. Bucky had brought a bouquet of roses, most likely as a peace offering.

"I missed having you around, even when it feels like you want to hit me," Barnes says, his gaze fixed on you. You immediately turn to face him. You so dearly wish to trust his words, but lately, it seems as though he’s been toying with you.

"There’s no need to come at me with your charm, trying to use me again. I have no intention of continuing to be manipulated by you," you say with firm resolve, attempting to distance yourself from Bucky, though you don’t truly wish to. Yet, he pulls you closer, pressing you against the kitchen counter before lifting you onto it. He positions himself before you, standing between your legs. You lock eyes, both wearing expressions of seriousness.

"As if much evidence were needed to reach that conclusion. You hid in my restaurant because you had likely already noticed my little crush on you. Then, you must have used me to provoke your partner, with whom you had a relationship—so much so that she thought it necessary to nearly shoot me. And finally, you are using me to distract Steve. It's all clear now: I’m just a simple woman you decided to manipulate because I’m naïve enough." You spill your conclusions, struggling to contain the sadness welling within you. He shakes his head as if to deny everything, his body language betraying his discomfort under the weight of your accusations.

"You must think I’m a monster. If you believe I’m manipulating you because you’re an easy target, you’re sorely mistaken. You simply fail to see what’s right in front of you," he says, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. He is clearly irritated, yet there is a hint of sadness in his expression. "The day we met, you asked me how my day was going. I told you I was having a tough day. You said everything could be fixed with a cup of coffee and then handed me one. I sipped your bitter coffee and told you it was delicious. Do you know why? Your eyes—they told me you were worth the effort of pretending to enjoy it. I don’t live near your bakery; I was there while working undercover, and even then, I used my real last name because I didn’t want to lie to you. I fought against the urge to ask you out for months because I knew I would have to deceive you. But I returned almost every day to your bakery because I wanted to see you. To drink your bitter coffee and taste your new recipes. Because seeing you made me feel normal," he confesses, his face just inches from yours. For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt, realizing you may have crossed a line.

"I want to say that I don’t trust a word of what you’ve said, but the truth is, even if you’re using me, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And if my accusations have offended you, I apologize. It’s just that you’re not sincere with me. You didn’t tell me about Natasha, and I…" You pause, contemplating your next words. Should you admit that you feel somewhat jealous? Or that you’re considering accepting a date with his best friend? At this moment, everything feels so confusing to you.

"You’ve drawn your own conclusions. I don’t blame you, but I can’t reveal more than what you already know. So, in the end, you’re right to conclude that I’m using you. What other justification could there be for all of this, right?" Bucky’s expression and tone reflect a certain weight, a gravity that hangs in the air. It’s amusing how you find yourselves engaged in this relationship discussion that doesn’t truly exist, all while so close to one another. He continues to occupy the space between your legs, positioned right beside your body, as if holding you in place. The question remains: do you want him to step back?

"If that is all you have to say, then you had best leave," you reply, unsettled by the casual way he speaks, as though he isn’t erecting a wall between you. Yet, instead of stepping away, he draws closer, a tension growing between you that had not fully existed before. His hands gently cup your face, and you close your eyes, trying your best not to give in just yet.

"Do you truly want me to leave?" Barnes asks, his fingers brushing over your cheeks, then tracing your lips. You open your eyes to meet his gaze—those blue eyes, the most beautiful you’ve ever seen, fixed intently on you. You shake your head no, still watching him, unable to look away.

"I want you to want me. But nothing suggests that we’ll cast aside reason and embrace this mutual attraction," you say softly, as though too shy to openly admit your desire for him.

"To hell with reason," Barnes replies, pulling you toward him. His lips, possessive, devour yours as though he were savoring your taste. You return the kiss, urging Barnes to press even closer to you. Your hands explore his body while he holds your face, deepening the kiss with fervor. Your hands trail down Barnes' back, when you reach his rear, you squeeze his ass. He lets out a drawn-out moan near your ear as he starts to reach for the opening in your pants. With impressive agility he manages to help you take off your pants while holding you closer to him.

"Fuck me on the couch, Barnes. I want a reminder of you every time that I sit on it," you say with your mouth still pressed against his. He immediately picks you up, carrying you to your couch. You let out a little laugh, as if you were getting nervous but at the same time excited. Which was true, she'd wanted to have this moment with him for so long her mind was almost exploding. Barnes leans you against the edge of the couch as if he wants to support you there to continue where you left off. You reach for the hem of his shirt, ripping it off his body immediately. He's definitely as ripped as you'd expect him to be. Gently, you begin to kiss his belly, from bottom to top. When you kiss near his neck, he holds your face; pulling you in for a kiss. A slow kiss, as your tongues find each other's rhythm. He only breaks the kiss when he realizes that you still have a lot of clothes on.

"I hope to make you have a pleasant memory of our time together," he kisses your neck as he removes the rest of his clothes and yours. When he lowers the strap of your bra, he places small kisses on your shoulder. While with one hand he opened the clasp of your bra, as it fell to the floor, he massaged your breast. His cold fingers made contact with the tip of her breast, pulling it lightly. Then he ended up grabbing the other breast while massaging the other. His warm tongue sucking your left breast while his cold fingers pinched your right breast. Between your moans and his grunts, you were being deliciously explored by Barnes.

"I want your cock, Bucky. Inside me, fucking me; I want to feel you," you say almost as if you were pleading. The smug smile Barnes gives you makes you almost regret what you said.

"Your wish is my command," Barnes says, stopping whatever he was doing and spreading your legs, positioning himself at the entrance to your pussy. "Tell me how much you need me, Y/N. Tell me what you want from me," Barnes whispers as he teases you by lightly thrusting his cock into your pussy. His fingers stimulating your entrance too, massaging your pussy that is already wet, by the feeling of almost having his dick there.

"I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you, I want to feel you deep inside me," you say almost as a mumble. Your fingers scratch Barnes's six-pack, making him let out a groan. His eyes light up the moment he looks at you and finally, he penetrates you. His cock is completely inside you almost as if it were throbbing with pure lust. You let out a loud sigh, grabbing his bare ass with your hands. You help him with the movements, while he thrusts into you. The feeling of grabbing his ass while he puts his dick in you, it's almost divine. Your moans increase with each thrust of his, as you feel an explosion of pleasure take over you. At this moment it doesn't matter that your ass is hurting a little, that your back is in a almost uncomfortable position. The pleasure of being fucked by James Barnes is far greater than any momentary discomfort.

"Hold on to me, princess. My body is yours to do with as you please," Bucky speaks and you grab his neck, scratching him as you feel your orgasm form as Barnes continues to thrust his cock into you. As if he notices that you are about to cum, he starts thrusting more slowly, as if he wants to prolong the moment. You hold him close to you, nibbling on his ear and then kissing him. Finally you both come, almost in sync. You melt in his arms, not feeling strong enough to pull away from him.

"How about we take a bath together and then we can go to bed?" Bucky says while you don't even have the strength to answer him.You just nod your head and let him carry you to the bathroom.

You wake up in bed, uncertain whether what happened on the sofa was reality or merely a figment of your desire. Yet, your body confirms that you and Barnes truly slept together. But the other side of the bed is empty—he left while you were still asleep. Perhaps it’s for the best; this way, you won’t foster false hopes. Maybe it will hurt less if you pretend it was just a dream. You rise, though standing proves a bit difficult, and upon seeing the time, you rush to open the bakery. After a refreshing shower, you slip into a loose dress, tie up your hair, and hurry out to open your bakery.

But something feels off—you sense that someone is following you. Perhaps it's paranoia, yet the feeling lingers. Just before grabbing the keys to open the bakery, you turn around. It turns out you weren’t paranoid after all. A strange man, wearing a cap and dark sunglasses, stands right behind you. He pulls a knife and thrusts it into your stomach. The force of the blow causes you to stagger slightly as you lock eyes with him.

"Tell Barnes he can’t hide forever. Tell him Alexander Pierce sends his regards," the man sneers, twisting the knife deeper. "Hail, Hydra!" he exclaims before yanking the blade out of you and running off.

It feels as though your world has stopped, your life flashing before your eyes. All the times you wanted something but let it slip away, all the moments you couldn’t be who you were meant to be. The mistakes made, the victories earned. Your eyes grow heavy as you clutch the wound, feeling your blood spilling from you. Then, through the haze, you see a figure rushing toward you, and you recognize him instantly. A weak smile forms on your lips.

"I knew you'd be my hero," you whisper, as the strong arm of the man holds you steady. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you," is all you hear before you lose consciousness.

58 notes · View notes

blondgirls-world · 5 months ago

Text

57 Reasons

TW: Meanspo

01. You will be FAT if you eat today, just put it off one more day.

02. You don't NEED food.

03. Fat people can't fit everywhere.

04. Guys will be able to pick you up without struggling.

05. You'll be able to run faster without all that extra weight holding you back.

06. People will remember you as "the beautiful thin one".

07. If someone has to describe you, they'll say "oh she weighs like 90, 100 lbs".

08. Guys will want to get to know you, not laugh at you and walk away.

09. Starving is an example of excellent willpower.

10. You will be able to see your beautiful, beautiful bones.

11. Bones are clean and pure. Fat is dirty and hangs on your bones like a parasite.

12. If you eat then you'll look like those disgusting, fat, ghetto and trailer-trash hookers on Jerry Springer.

13. The models that everyone claims are beautiful, the spitting image of perfection, are any of them fat? NO!

14. Too many people in the world are obese.

15. People who eat are selfish and unrealistic.

16. Only fat people are attracted to fat people. Do you want pigs to like you because you are one of them.

17. Anyone can have "inner beauty" but few can earn real beauty, inside as well as out.

18. You'll be able to move as quietly and skillfully as a spider.

19. Only thin people are graceful.

20. If you slap a fat person you can see a shockwave ripple over their skin. That's disgusting.

21. Do you want people to say "for gods sake get off me you're crushing me!!!" or "you are sooo light" ???

22. Underweight aka perfect body.

23. Ballerina? or beanbag?

24. I want to be light enough so a helium balloon could lift me and carry me to the clouds.

25. I want to walk in the snow and leave no footprints.

26. Starve off the parts you don't need. They're ugly and they drag you down.

27. Nothing cant be fixed with hunger and weight loss.

28. Saying "no thanks" to food is saying "yes please" to THIN!!!

29. Fat people are so huge, yet people look away from them as if they don't exist.

30. The only time people do notice a fat person is when they get in the way of that beautiful thin girl walking by (ok that sounds really horrible i know.)

31. Have you ever seen a person NOT notice a walking skeleton.

32. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.

33. Is food more important that happiness in life? I think not!

34. Eating is conforming to everyone else's expectations.

35. When you start to get dizzy and weak you're almost there.

36. Hunger is your friend and it won't betray you like food.

37. Food is mean and sneaky. It tricks you into eating it and it works on you from the inside out making you fat, bloated, ugly and unhappy.

38. Think of anorexia as your secret weapon.

39. If you can name one reason to be fat, I'll name a million and one to be thin.

40. Thin people look good in ANY kind of clothes.

41. Food rots your teeth.

42. Puffy cheeks, double chins and thick ankles-- aren't attractive.

43. Fatty areas stretch and sag as you get older.

44. Ever seen the arms of a fat person wave hello or goodbye?

45. Eating little to nothing saves you money!

46. The average (middle class) American wastes OVER $8,000 a year on FOOD ALONE...it goes in one end and out the other. That sure is a lot of fat! No wonder so many Americans are obese and overweight!

47. Fat people make their country look bad.

48. Big people sweat more and they smell bad.

49. Fat people die earlier.

50. You'll be the envy of all the other girls.

51. All of the guys will want you.

52. You're less likely to get food poisoning.

53. You won't be exposed to all the chemicals and pesticides they put in food today.

54. You won't get sweaty on hot days.

55. The word fat will only apply to you in a sarcastic way.

56. No one wants to see a fat person dance.

57. Beauty Queen? or Dairy Queen?

-Fading Obsession: Pro Ana Mia Website plus Forum (fadingobsessions.com)

125 notes · View notes

yyawnjun · 10 months ago

Text

VIVID MEMORIES

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. SUMMARY: Your first vivid memory of you and your best friend, Choi Seungcheol, was when you were seven years old, on a summer evening. You spent the day at the beach and were about to build your sand castle. You had no notion of time; you were happy without realizing it. The second vivid memory you have of your best friend is from a cold winter night. Your 14-year-old selves comfortable between the blankets and a Christmas movie playing in the background. On that night, you found out that S.coups would be moving in a week. The third vivid memory you have of your best friend is from the autumn before you entered college. You were nineteen years old and had moved into a university-provided shared flat; it was evening when you were ready to meet your roommate. So you entered the apartment, and your gaze met the brown eyes you knew better than anyone else. The fourth vivid memory you have of your S.coups was on a spring night when everything changed. […]

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. GENRE: fluff, a bit angst, slightly suggestive || best friends to (to strangers to roommates) lovers

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. WARNINGS: mention of food/alcohol (just beers)

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. WORD COUNT: 7k !!

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. A.N.: hey guys, after a month from the spoiler, here is the Vivid Memories fanfiction!! I'll start with a big thank you to lia @sobun1est , she proofread everything and was always super kind and supportive, she was literally an angel.

𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. TAGLIST: @kflixnet @christinewithluv @thepoopdokyeomtouched @leah-rose03 @lavayeon @renapersa @xcynthiaaa

Your first vivid memory of yourself and your best friend is from a summer evening at the beach. Everything is clear in your mind, from the time you arrived in the afternoon, to lunch, and finally, the time spent between the water and the sand. You and S.coups had been best friends since birth; your cribs were close, and your mothers had met in the hospital and ended up becoming great friends.

From the earliest age, you were used to doing everything together, so much so that no one could tell if you were close friends or siblings. Regardless of how you appear; spending so much time with a person tends to make you resemble them.

You had similar tastes in everything - from simple preferences for snacks to choices of games to play together. Between you two, he was slightly more extroverted and found it easier to talk to people. But being such good friends, you - who were initially more reserved and introverted - ended up resembling him in this aspect as well.

Even the more negative traits were shared - like stubbornness or sensitivity. But these weighed much less; you were good to each other, and everyone could notice that. You had also formed a group of friends, with whom you often gathered in the afternoons to play.

This had also happened on that hot summer day. You had arrived in the morning, but all of your friends had left shortly after lunch, leaving only you and S.coups to complete your project of immense significance and excellent architectural attention: a sandcastle.

6:06 p.m.

"We need more water. I'll go get it," he had told you as he stood up with the bucket and came to the sea.

"I can do it! You can finish the towers since you're more precise."

"No, I'll go because I'm stronger. You're a girl."

"But I'm faster!" you replied with a challenging tone.

"That's not true," and he turned around, running.

You followed him without hesitation. Your laughter resonated on the now-empty beach; the breeze ruffled your hair, and before you knew it, you were the first to reach the sea.

And when he got to you, he "accidentally" pushed you and caused you to fall into the water. You were near the coast, so you could touch the bottom, and you took advantage of the situation by dragging Scoups into the water and pretending to take his hand to pull yourself up. A water splash war began; the more one of you moved the water, the other responded with equal vigor. Laughter, splashes, and the sound of your bodies moving through the water filled the silence on that summer evening.

Your castle was never finished - and this memory would haunt you in the future - because your parents came towards you to call you as it was getting late, and it was time to go home.

So, you started walking towards the car; both of you were still soaking wet, and you shared a large towel for the entire journey back. During that ride, you sang your favorite songs at the top of your lungs, imagining yourselves as famous singers with a microphone and a big audience.

If you closed your eyes, you could still vividly see your best friend at the age of seven, moving his lips with his eyes closed, singing various songs with his already splendid voice.

The ride back was short, or at least it seemed so to you because you had focused only on the two of you singing. You helped your mothers cook dinner, which was based on ramen. S.coups was busy chopping vegetables while you set the table. Meanwhile, your conversations were varied; from regretting not finishing the sandcastle to discussing who among you was more in tune. Later in the night, when the spontaneous question of what you wanted to be when you grew up developed, your talk would be further explored.

But before that, there was a moment of play after helping clean the kitchen when everyone finished dinner. Playing activity games led to lying on the floor and starting a long game of Monopoly. You knew the rules well enough to the point that you ended up dividing all the money in the bank and started buying and stealing houses from each other, easily ignoring the original rules.

You remember perfectly the fake pout put on by your best friend when he realized he had been tricked several times by you. His arms crossed, and his gaze turned elsewhere as he tried to scold you for your immorality and for how wrong you had been.

The mood, however, quickly dissipated because your genuine laughter had enchanted him, distracting him from the original reason for it.

So, the late hour arrived, and both of you put on your pajamas and lay down to sleep.

Your bodies were exhausted, but your young minds were not. You returned to the topic that had characterized your conversations many times: what you wanted to do when you grew up.

S.coups was so sure he wanted to become a singer that it became a habit for you to listen to him talk about all the things he would do once he became famous.

Thinking back, it warmed your heart when you noticed that in all his plans, he was never alone - it was always Scoups and Yn.

You also shared your dreams, and you both promised to be each other's number-one fans - supporting each other's choices and ideas. In the end, it was almost as if dreams had become another thing you shared.

"Cross on the heart, we'll be together forever, and our dreams will come true a thousand percent!!" you both said in unison at the top of your lungs, as if it hadn't long passed the time for both of you to sleep.

You vividly remember looking into his eyes as he made that promise; the moon was the only source of light faintly illuminating his face, and his smile was barely perceptible. The bond of trust that united you was deep, and on that summer night, for the first time, you felt him very close to your heart - you couldn't explain why, perhaps because you didn't care to understand it. You were happy, and that was enough!

Your summer days spent together would be many more, as well as the years you had planned to spend together.

In no time, your conversations became more and more confusing, and the words became slurred. Without realizing it, you fell asleep - facing each other, with a faint smile on your faces and your eyes closed peacefully.

The vivid memory of every moment of that day would come back to you at least one night of all your subsequent summers - regardless of how everything had changed over time in a completely unexpected way.

You'll remember those times with melancholy because they were over and with joy. After all, they were there.

The second vivid memory you have with your best friend takes place during a winter. Your 14-year-old selves were returning home from a long snowball fight that had lasted all afternoon on a Friday night when the snow was falling heavily.

It began as a competition to build the most beautiful snowman, then evolved into a team effort to create one together, and then ended in the destruction of your work and a snowball war.

Competitiveness raised your spirits, but your best friend unexpectedly gave up and joined you after raising the white flag.

He'd whispered an excuse for his defeat, meaning that he wanted to leave that happy memory of your win rooted in your mind.

At that moment you did not fully understand his words, but they took on another meaning after the news you learned that evening.

So you walked into the house, where the pleasant aroma of pizza filled the air. Not even time to take off your coats began your competition to get to the kitchen first.

When you arrived, there was a table set for the two of you and a message from your parents telling you that you and S.coups would be eating alone and that a hot pizza was waiting for you in the oven.

You remember your best friend's smile as you read aloud the message left, and his excitement at the idea that you could spend the night together watching movies and eating anything you wanted.

After your victory greeting, which included a 3-second handshake and a pirouette to each other, you determined who would shower first while the other looked for movie marathon alternatives to watch that night. You both assumed you'd be able to stay up all night.

You won and quickly showered.

As soon as you came out, you noticed S.coups concentrating as he read the list of movies you had made - you swore that, for a moment, his eyes had appeared glazed over, but at the sight of you he had quickly composed himself.

He had run toward the shower, and instead, you had noticed a note with three options, including one of them written in big letters: " CHRISTMAS MOVIE + STUDIO GHIBLI MARATHON."

You didn't ask too many questions - on the contrary, you thought about how much those films had been a fundamental part of your childhood, and your heart warmed.

When your best friend returned from the shower, you were still thinking about the order in which you would watch the movies. When you looked up to discuss your decision, you noticed that the boy was holding a towel and wasn't wearing a T-shirt. You immediately shifted your sight and quit speaking.

S.coups looked perplexed, but he quickly realized what was going on.

His lips formed a pleased smirk.

You were teenagers, and even though you had shared everything since you were younger, those awkward moments - the ones of contact with reality - deepened your bond.

"Put a shirt on."

"Why should I, huh?" he asked, chuckling.

"It's winter...you might get sick." you stammered as you pulled yourself together and went back to look at him.

"Okay," he snorted at you.

So your gaze was drawn to his back as he struggled to put on the pajama shirt he kept in your house because you were like siblings.

The boy was a dancer, and the results were visible on his physique; his muscles were well defined, and his movements were incredibly harmonious, to the point that you were charmed observing him

You were thrown back to earth by a sneeze.

"Yn...your hair is still wet - he told you as he laid his towel on your head - and then you tell me to be careful not to catch cold.." he continued as he quickly dried your hair with the towel.

You laughed too, and as S.coups's movements warmed you up a little.

At that moment, the vivid memory focused more on how you felt.

For a few seconds, neither of you had spoken, as if both of you had been stuck in your stream of thought. For the second time that day you noticed his gaze fixed on you, but his as he wandered elsewhere.

A snort and a smile interrupted that moment, and you proactively got up to take the hot pizza out of the oven.

S.coups towel was left on your head, and you vividly remember the scent of the vanilla-flavored bubble bath used by the boy being overpowered by that of the pizza fresh out of the oven.

You turned around and saw him sitting with a fork and knife in hand smiling, and ready for dinner.

Before long the pizza you had in front of you was over, and thanks to the light topics discussed the time had, to say the least, flown by.

You had discussed as much and as little as which of your professors would be most likely to win in a fight - both of you were convinced it would not be the English one - or whether there were more stars or grains of sand in the world.

After these deep discussions, you moved to the couch and set up the television to begin your marathon of Home Alone, and the Studio Ghibli films.

The evening began with the Christmas movie and continued with Totoro, whose initial song the two of you were happily humming the refrain.

You had always been used to being together, and from an early age physical contact had been a present element in your friendship.

As you grew up, it was as if a veil of awkwardness had appeared but at the same time, it was as if your deep friendship had overcome it: proof of this was the position you were in.

He sat, and you with your head over his legs while he stroked your hair and you scratched his arm. Nothing strange, nothing mischievous or sensual, simply two teenagers watching a movie together for the umpteenth time.

The more you try to recall that vivid memory, the more you begin to notice how many times your gaze had crossed and how you had been the center of the boy's attention.

You hadn't paid too much attention at the time; you both knew the movies by heart, and you were both exhausted.

But you still started at 11 pm Spirited Away.

With dreamy eyes, you looked at the world represented by the film, and with the same eyes, S.coups looked at you.

You noted he seemed thoughtful because he commented on the movies less than usual, but you had seen him weird all day. It was only then that you realized there was something he had not yet told you but was on the verge of telling you.

Only you knew him well enough to sense it without him saying anything.

When the film was over you began to pay more attention to S.coups attitudes.

He stroked you more gently than usual, and never had he pulled your hair or pinched you as he usually did in a friendly way.

The third film on the list was your movie, Howl's Wandering Castle.

And, as difficult as it was to tell your friend that you were tired and that it might be better to go to bed, you chose that option because you were becoming concerned for the boy. He gave no sign of resisting, which made you certain that something was going to come out that night.

And so for the umpteenth time, you found yourselves lying in a bed together; there had never been any awkwardness because you had always filled the silence with words or music.

But on that winter night, no one dared to utter a word - almost as if you were both aware that there was whatever you would say would come out unpleasant.

There was only a dim bajour lighting the room, and you could occasionally hear the sound of your breaths.

"I'm moving out tomorrow."

Few words, many feelings, many tears, and few reactions.

"Really?"

"Yes. But not by my will, my parents are moving."

"Oh."

You could not process a single word, no rational reaction was accomplished by you or him.

Both of you stood motionless, staring at each other.

His eyes struggled to maintain eye contact, occasionally moving to the sides of the room.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It was a sudden thing: I found out last month. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I didn't have the courage you know," he told you, returning to look into your eyes.

You felt like a great selfish urge to ask him to stay.

"And where will you go?"

"Seoul."

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but your profound admiration and affection for him kept you from acting selfishly.

"It will be a great opportunity for your dream S.coups! I will visit you often, so forget me not!"

From that simple sentence, his whole expression changed; his grimace turned into a big smile, and a few tears fell from his eyes; as if he was waiting for your approval....

Instinctively he hugged and thanked you.

Despite all the years we had spent together, hearing him cry was still new to you - but you took his cry as permission to start crying too.

And on that night, you remember so vividly.

It was on that night that your dreams and destinies parted.

You would have liked to talk more throughout the night, but sleep was stronger than you, and you both collapsed asleep.

You were still embraced; his face was in the crook of your neck, and your scent flooded his nostrils was enough to bring him a peaceful sleep.

Your faces were still adorned with the previous now-dried tears, while a faint melancholy smile decorated your faces.

Your memories of the next day, the official farewell day, the day of a thousand questions answered and planned, for some inexplicable reasons were less vivid.

But his broken voice of that cold winter night was a memory that never faded from your mind.

The third vivid memory you have of you and your best friend is of an autumn day, the one before you started college.

Since you had drifted apart, many things had happened; good and bad times had alternated, and time had passed.

You made a promise to stay in touch forever, but due to a thousand different duties and circumstances, you both had become increasingly unreachable.

In the beginning, you still kept a diary with all the things you wanted to say to him and meticulously updated it every day.

But even the last bit of paper that held you together had faded away.

Memories with him remained of happy and comfortable times; when you thought about it, your soul was filled with melancholy and nostalgia. Nostalgia is the primal meaning of the word, as it had been for Odysseus in the Odyssey: homelessness.

The memory of home, which had always been associated with S.coups for you, dissipated, and many new ones took the place.

The high school years seemed to have flown past, whereas they appeared forever previously. You finished with honors and were able to attend a prestigious college with many degrees owing to a scholarship.

Fate or not, you ended up in Seoul.

As soon as you read the letter of admission, that location resonated with you with the voice of S.coups. That broken voice on that summer night still resonated with you on an autumn night when you were 19 years old and on your way to Seoul.

Your baggage was packed, and your flight was scheduled to depart the next morning. You'd find your mother at the Seoul airport, who had gone there first to help you with your flat. Your parents had gotten you an apartment near the university as a gift when you were swamped with stuff to study.

Your scholarship covered half the costs, and the other half was split with a roommate, whom your parents had promised you would like.

You slept little that night, your mind racing with everything from the things you'd miss to the experiences you'd have.

Fear and anxiety weighed you down, and soothing music to lull you to sleep didn't seem to help.

Until, late at night, sleep prevails. You awoke after a few hours. You didn't feel tired because adrenaline was racing through your veins, keeping you awake enough to get up and settle before you left.

You wish farewell to your home, your city, and all that had been your life up until that moment at 6 a.m.

The journey passed between a thousand songs, books, drawings, and games. You arrived so late in the afternoon at the airport, where you met your mother, and together decided to take a tour of the city.

You left your baggage in a designated locker and approached her after she showed you the university's offices. Sunset had arrived, and the autumn colors had calmed the atmosphere.

Everything was wonderful on that day, which you remember vividly.

Fortunately, tiredness only set in after you and your mother arrived at your flat. Your conversations during the day had been of all kinds, but particularly at the end, they had focused on your future and the one with whom you would share a room.

You expected to see him at the airport, or at the very least to learn more about him. But, in the end, your mother did not reveal anything to you, and you would only find out who it was in a few minutes.

Following your mother to a very tall building, you promptly took an elevator up to the fourth floor after grabbing your belongings.

You were experiencing a wide range of emotions at the time.

Mostly, you were worried about everything that was waiting for you.

You arrived on the sixth floor and entered room 505 after leaving the elevator. You remember vividly putting the keys into the keyhole - initially wrongly twisting them. You entered the house after succeeding.

The lights were on, and a black coat was already hanging on the coat rack on the left side of the door. You did the same thing, and after putting your shoes away, you noticed that some of them were already there. You took the slippers left for you and passed the others to your mother. You walked down the short hall and reached the small living room.

Not many people know, but the sense most connected to memories is the smell.

A smell, a scent intense or not, pleasant or not, recurring or not, is what most allows a person to bring back a memory.

A scent of fresh sea water invaded your nostrils in that vivid memory. A distinct smell hit you even before you noticed those brown eyes that you most recognized, even before you heard him say "Welcome to Seoul," even before he came to you for a hug, and even before all that you would eat together.

That smell of the ocean brought back your first vivid memory of a summer evening spent laughing on the beach while building a sand castle. Later, all of the other senses were activated, respectively.

In front of you stood Choi Seungcheol, S.coups, your childhood best friend. He had a smile on his face and promptly stood up to greet you in a long hug.

Then he showed you throughout your small apartment, from the hallway to the shared kitchen and bathroom to the separate but adjacent rooms.

You quickly sorted some of your belongings before proceeding to the kitchen. For a moment, you had even thought that you would sleep in the same room - maybe even in the same bed - as it was.

You had then pondered the innocuous thought while the three of you sat in the kitchen reminiscing about the good old days. So much had changed, and your best friend had grown into an objectively attractive guy.

He had grown taller, the effects of years of gymnastics were visible, and the muscles could be seen even when he wasn't shirtless. He had changed his hairstyle, now wearing a not-so-long mullet with two strands of hair hanging over his eyes, and his clothing style had seemed evolved. He had dressed for the occasion in a tight white sweater with a high neck, explaining that he had done so remembering your style preference for him.

Soon your mother was gone, leaving you alone.

On that autumn evening, you could write an entire essay for how many vivid details you remember.

Beginning with the initial moments of embarrassment, promptly eclipsed by S.coups with his usual irony, which you had learned for many years to counter.

To continue with the thousands of questions and answers you both had. Time had passed, yet your memories of each other had crystallized. In difficult times, he admitted to thinking about your friendship, and you confided in him about your nostalgia for what you had.

He had now begun a singing career, although his company could only pay him enough to live in an apartment near the university, where he sometimes attended classes.

He explained how your mother showed up at one of his early fansigns to propose that the two of you move in together, and how for a year you had been oblivious of this plan. You smiled and noticed how years had passed, yet his method of communicating things through gestures and laughing had not changed.

Immediately, he got interested in you as well, asking you many questions and listening attentively to your responses. You recalled the last nighttime conversation you had with S.coups, the one that divided your fates. And that vivid memory returned to him as well.

The temper of fate had you both laughing - the talk that had divided you remembered the one that had brought you together.

Your best friend mentioned how he no longer slept that well from that night, oblivious that you remembered how you fell asleep holding each other with dry tears on your faces.

The hot tea you were sipping turned quickly into beer and chips, and your chats became increasingly hazy as the sleep began to mix with the alcohol.

You awoke in your bed the next morning, only to discover that S.coups had brought you there. You recognized you were wearing pajamas after looking in the mirror.

Your face turned very red.

But after that initial reaction, you realized you were still wearing the clothing from the previous day underneath, so you laughed at the boy's odd action of kindness.

You walked to the kitchen after a short shower and noticed a still-steaming breakfast on the table. With it there was a note with recognizable handwriting warning you that he had gotten up early because his practice began at 7 a.m. and that he had made you your favorite breakfast, hoping that it hadn't changed over the years.

And it hadn't changed, just as your feelings for that boy hadn't.

Or so S.coups thought...but just as milk for breakfast had been replaced by coffee in your tastes, had your feelings of simple friendship been replaced by anything else?

While these thoughts raced through your mind, you prepared for your first day of college. Anxiety was now accompanied by the reassuring consciousness of being near to your best friend, and you entered the structure that would house you for the next five years, charged with energy.

The fourth vivid memory you have of you and your best friend is during a refreshing spring night when everything changed.

You'd get used to living with S.coups while meeting many new people - from college classmates to everyone in your best friend's group.

A thousand exams were stressing you out, and as the seasons changed, so did your emotions. However, unlike seasons, which must follow an endless cycle that has already been programmed, humans are doomed to an end after traveling the straight stretch that is unpredictable life.

You'd started spending your days and evenings together again. You stayed in your room at first to concentrate, while he stayed in his to avoid disturbing you with music. But before you knew it, you were both in the living room working on your assignments. You'd spend hours studying on the computer or in your books, while S.coups sat on the couch with his headphones on and his eyes closed, imagining the choreography he had learned or humming the choruses of his songs. You'd gone from maximum distance between cities to smallest proximity while sleeping curled on the couch with Studio Ghibli movies playing in the background.

It happened that you would be invited to parties and the two of you together would go without even planning it. And if you were late working for your small job that you had found for yourself, you never had to go home alone - there was always S.coups to drive you home.

You enjoyed long, relaxed drives in the fall and winter, as well as delightful evenings, particularly during the warmer months.

Everyone you knew had doubted your friendship at some point - in fact, everyone was certain that you were having a secret relationship. But every time that topic was posed to you, you denied it, remembering that you had been "best friends from childhood."

Back to the vivid memory from the spring night: the night after your last exams for the school year, the same night S.coups talked to you under the full moon as he had done on that summer night when you were children.

When you checked your phone, it was 6.06 p.m.; you should have been ready for dinner with S.coups in less than half an hour. You'd picked that evening to celebrate the end of your examinations and the start of his first concert tour.

You were in the bathroom getting dressed when you heard S.coups singing from his room. And you were well aware that he only sang out on two occasions, during concerts, or when he was happy. The thought reassured you, and you instinctively smiled at the prospect of going out to dinner with him.

Not that you hadn't done it before, but something felt different this time, perhaps because of your incredible sixth sense.

For the first time, you had no idea where you were going; only he had thought of it, and he had officially asked you to be free that evening because he had something special planned for you. Although he had previously given up after your insistence on the surprise disclosure, he had made no move at that point.

To add to the list of surprises, that time he did not seek your advice on what to wear.

All of this worsened your anxiety, which was tempered by the sound of S.coups's voice in the next room.

You spent the entire afternoon in your wardrobe putting on clothes because you had no idea where you were going. You had tried on every possible clothing, from skirts to dresses to jeans, but in the end, you had chosen one that made you feel comfortable. You would have dared a little more with black shoes and more detailed makeup that enhanced the aspects of your face that you valued the most.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door just as you finished applying your crimson lipstick.

You knew your time in the bathroom was over and chose to finish and go to your room.

S.coups came in as you were leaving. He had the clothing he was going to wear with him, and despite your sneaky glimpse, he pushed you out of the bathroom, mocking your impatience.

As a result, you returned to your room and finished getting ready.

You finished at 6:46 p.m. and waited for him to exit the bathroom.

Meanwhile, you had begun working on your crochet project, because you promised yourself that you would begin as soon as you finished your exam session. You were so busy with counting the stitches that you didn't notice when the hairdryer noise stopped, and S.coups came out of the bathroom.

You only recognized when someone touched your shoulder, and you almost threw what you were holding at him. After looking up and seeing him, you realized that you had not only lost count of the stitches but also more than a few beats.

He was wearing the white turtleneck T-shirt he had put on the first time you had seen each other in years, with a black blazer over it and plain pants of the same color. His hair was carefully put backward with gel, and a trickle of makeup was barely perceptible on his face.

For a moment you felt inadequate, and not dressed enough for how he had put himself.

"C'mon stop looking so good every time, dumbass" until this unexpected comment of his brought you back to reality.

"Look who's talking," you replied.

It was natural for you to exchange compliments, but it was never something too explicit or automatic as on that night.

"Let's go, or we'll be late."

"You're the one who took forever to get ready!"

"Yeah, you aged so much that you looked like a grandmother while working with those wires."

"HEY! Don't make fun of my crochet, I'm slowly learning."

"Croissant- what?"

And that's what you were talking about as you walked toward the car that would take you to the place chosen by S.coups.

You climbed into the car, and the first song that started was BLOSSOM by Enhypen.

Scoups started telling you about how he had met the members of that group and how everyone had been super friendly. But you couldn't focus on what he was saying at the time because he seemed to be the only one who had your attention.

He called out your lack of attention two or three times, but you instantly lied and said you were focused on the song and began humming it. So he didn't question it and began singing along with you.

So you were back in the car together, singing your favorite songs at the top of your lungs.

The first vivid memory came back to you.

" S.coups was so sure he wanted to become a singer [...]

in all his plans, he was never alone - it was always Scoups and Yn."

And that was it, he had become a famous singer, and in his plans, you were really in his future plans too.

You finished singing There is a Light that Never Goes Out by the Smiths just as the car stopped - only later did you find out that S.coups had taken a longer ride to let you finish your songs.

Before you could open the door, he got up and opened it for you

"Oh, what a gentleman," you said to him.

And he responded by bowing his head slightly and chuckling.

The place was not far from where the car had been walking. So you managed to walk for less than five minutes, and by 7:04 p.m. you had arrived.

Outside, two big street lamps illuminated the area, and the entry had a large white windowed door. As soon as you walked in, a waiter approached you, and the sight of S.coups was enough for you to be brought to a reserved table.

From the velvety chairs to the scarlet walls, the inside was all about the red color palette. Everything was surrounded by wide windows, allowing the sunset light to cast a lovely glow on the interior. The smell, on the other hand, was the first thing that struck you and brought back memories of going on family vacations and eating in locations that smelt like home.

That's what the place smelled like, everything you'd left behind when you moved to Seoul from your hometown - it had a reassuring scent of home.

Despite the red, the mood was not too elegant, and numerous people cheered the place with quiet talk.

You had been fascinated for so long that it was S.coups who jolted you awake by encouraging you to sit in the chair he moved for you.

"If you keep being a gentleman, look, I might end up falling for you" you chuckled as you sat down - and that comment had been more spontaneous than ever.

It was only manner, attitude, character, and soul that you had gradually fallen in love with.

"Noted"

"And you're even bringing me to an amazing place! Everything is really beautiful here."

"I know, I know that I have very good taste."

Shortly afterward the menu also came to you, and yours was along with your flower.

Surprised by the gesture, you looked at S.coups questioningly,

"Who knows! The waiter must have a crush on you."

"And how does he know what my favorite flower was?"

"Stalker?"

"Sure, sure.."

You ordered and were quickly served.

You both ended up taking two different things, and swapping them because you liked what he got better and vice versa - it had been that way since you were little.

S.coups told you how well the training was going, and at the same time how tiring they were, and you told him about various things that had happened to you.

You finally had time to talk since you had been particularly busy recently.

You recall standing in silence numerous times, watching how the light of the sunset highlighted his face, to the point where you felt compelled to photograph him to save that memory forever.

As the sun had set, so too had your dinner ended; and of course, it had ended with dessert even though both of you were quite full.

"Come on, I still have to take you somewhere!"

You nodded, and both of you got up to go pay.

He was quicker in handing the card to the cashier, who only commented with a wistful sigh saying: "Oh how beautiful is the young love."

Both of you did not respond, so were you both against that meaning, or did you not want to embarrass the other? Or maybe both?

You would exit and turn away from where the car was. You turned left again and entered what looked like a park. The streetlights that were there slowly diminished until there were no more.

If you had not had him by your side, you would have probably run in fear. But by following him without asking too many questions you could still feel safe.

The moment was silent, and the only noise you could hear was your heels and a slight movement of the leaves. The place had grown darker and darker, and again, the only light illuminating you was that of the full moon.

Unconsciously you attached to his jacket to do not lose him, and then your hand had reached down and entangled with his. You walked for ten minutes when he stopped and asked you to close your eyes.

You, trusting him, did so.

He came beside you and let you cling to his arm again so you would not fall...but you slipped, and you both fell.

You opened your eyes in fright, and before you even realized where you were, you laughed as you realized that both of you were now sitting on the floor.

A collective laughter began as soon as he realized that you had not been seriously hurt.

As soon as you looked into each other's without saying a word you began to laugh heartily, partly because of the funny situation and partly because you both felt the atmosphere lighter.

You were still on the ground, you had not moved, and your bodies were very close.

On that spring night, your laughing filled the silence, and when you opened your watery eyes again - this time from happiness - you heard him say "And here's to you, Seoul."

The last word, which reminded you of the boy's broken voice on a winter night, had now been replaced with a new memory.

It was now forever associated with his cheerful voice and with the time when you were looking down on the city from above.

The lights illuminated it, but your distance still allowed you to see the stars in the sky and the moon that shone most of all.

The more you try to recall that vivid memory, the more you begin to notice how many times your gaze had crossed and how you had been the center of the boy's attention.

But this time you had felt it, and you had taken your dumbfounded gaze off the beautiful sight and set your eyes on him as well.

Proud as he was, he had not taken his gaze off, and so you did the same.

Thus you noticed the moon reflected in his eyes as it illuminated his lips with its pale light.

And, certainly, you were looking at his lips openly by this point - menter his gaze shifted from your mouth to your right eye to your left eye, forming an imaginary triangle.

"It's okay if childhood best friends kiss sometimes, isn't it?"

His sudden sentence had amazed you, for you already looking at him so intensely, so closely had been enough to wake up the butterflies in your stomach.

"Mh, I would say yes."

His eyes first widened in amazement and soon after closed to move closer to you and join your lips.

A kiss full of passion, his hands took your face as you moved closer to him for full contact. It was a kiss the two of you had longed for, and almost 20 years of you were in that moment.

His body and yours were incredibly close, you could feel his heart beating wildly, or maybe it was yours? Or it was both of your hearts quickened by the moment so intense?

As soon as you broke away you timidly rested your head on his right shoulder - by now, you were so close that you were practically laying on his shoulder. You didn't have the boldness - and the breath to speak - so he was the one to say:

"Maybe best friends from childhood do these things sometimes... but can I be your boyfriend to do it whenever I want?"

And that was the fourth vivid memory of you and your best friend during a spring night when everything changed.

But, actually, feelings just revealed themselves to both of you as the seasons of your vivid memories changed.

notes: awop this was my first long fic, thank you so much for reading !! idc if the school part of the story sounds impractical, it’s for the plot; "bleu byzantin" is the name of the perfume I associate with S.coups!! 100% rec

I hope you like it!! ;

comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated ♡

186 notes · View notes

zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty.

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains.

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it.

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave.

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.”

But you took the plate anyway.

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders.

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?”

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed.

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.”

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be.

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.”

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night.

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside.

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself.

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich.

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth.

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy.

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools.

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray.

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it.

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked.

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice.

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked.

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too.

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you.

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh.

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that.

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab.

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks.

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together.

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own.

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied.

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade.

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man.

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life.

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you.

“Then why’d you come out here?”

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?”

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you.

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it.

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family?

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out.

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive.

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found.

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.”

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle.

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa.

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you.

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours.

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself.

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked.

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied.

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life?

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation.

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle.

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him.

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was.

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you.

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater.

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be.

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm.

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open.

What you found seared your eyes.

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around.

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed.

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds.

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face.

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust.

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered.

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door.

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall.

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm.

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich.

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today.

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.”

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back.

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him.

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.”

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look.

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully.

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit.

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking.

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement.

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said.

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister…

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush).

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered.

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him.

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating.

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile.

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said.

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch.

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind.

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear.

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno.

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety.

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else.

Right now, anyway…

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace.

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges.

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off.

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands.

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size.

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that.

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes?

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents.

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear.

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie.

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances.

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off.

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch.

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever.

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @waters-2567 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow @buckybarnes-1917 @secretdreamlandmentality @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine

#Morning night and day #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 5 #zepskies writes

707 notes · View notes

blueaetherr · 2 years ago

Note

can you write something like this https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMFDdKWHW/ with jude?

thank youu 💕

why wouldn't i?

pairing: jude bellingham x gn!reader [they/them]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where they pull the salt prank on jude

author's note: i would highly suggest watching the tik tok above, kinda(ish) gives context to the direction i took with this fic. enjoy, anon!

If there was one thing to learn about Jude, it was that he was kind, specifically a kind soul. He was careless yet careful and delicate. That, and everything else, was what many others loved about him; that was all that he was. On his good days, on his bad days, on those days where he wasn't provoked by any particular mood, he always came through to be kind—a gem—or simply, someone you wanted to be around if you weren't already.

It wasn't an aim, and it wasn't something that he tried to achieve or reach. That was just Jude, simply put; being kind—someone who would offer you a smile as he passed you, someone who would put others' needs before his own, someone whose hugs were calming and whole—was innate, uniquely something of Jude.

And this, by Jude, was projected to everyone around him. To his family, his friends, his partner, Y/N. From offering a hand when they reached the final step of the stairs to those compliments galore, and his ability to prioritise their peace of mind. His kindness, his pure heart, his personality, it could all stretch beyond wonders to reach Y/N.

But sometimes, or maybe more times than enough, did it go a bit too far or not far enough. For the soft soul he had, his kindness to his Y/N blinded him from potentially saying what needed to be said.

Y/N was setting up their phone when they heard the front door open. "Honey, I'm home!" Y/N laughed at the greeting, one that always remained sweet and adoring in their eyes. It also made them feel bad for the joke they were going to pull on Jude.

"I'm in here!" They called out, covering the spoon of salt with the pasta sauce.

Soon in came Jude, quickly coming by his partner's side and placing on kiss on the side of their head. Pulling away, he soon took notice of all the food in motion. "Oh my, God. You're making my favourite?" His face was beaming beyond one's usual timid happiness. He loved their cooking. It wasn't anything too simple or grand yet in his eyes, everything they made was some culinary excellence, tasting homemade. He couldn't deny any of their meals if he tried. And even if the meals were all too simple, he would remain believing that they were all too amazing.

"Thought you'd like some after training." Y/N shrugged with a small tug on their lips. Appearing somewhat nonchalant was the aim.

"You're amazing for this," he kissed their cheek once and then again, the second one lingering for a moment or two. "Thank you, love."

"It's just a little something. Speaking of," they mentioned as Jude wandered away to get a drink. Motioning to the pasta, they asked, "can you try this for me? I don't know if I put enough salt in it."

He nodded after closing the fridge and taking a drink of water. "Yeah, sure." Jude was always one to volunteer to do taste tests for Y/N before the meal was ready, wanting to make sure everything was all good for everyone else to eat.

"A'ight but careful," they warned as they held out the spoon with the pasta sauce on it. "It might be a bit hot." Chuckling softly as Jude blow on the spoon, they fed him the sauce.

Taking in a small breath, ready to sigh in relief and pure satisfaction, Jude's face quickly contorted. Initially, his facial expression expressed happiness that was wide and modest. But after the sauce rested in his mouth for far longer than it needed to, his face slowly deteriorated as it dropped a bit. He covered his mouth with his fist as he cleared his throat, patting his chest. And yet on his face still remained a smile, one that appeared to be struggling and hurting. But a smile nonetheless; that was his intent anyways.

"So what do you think? Too little, too much?" Besides his facial expressions, they already knew that he wasn't feeling the food, not one bit. There was no oh that's really, really good! What did you put in it this time? There was also no I think I need to try it again just to make sure. His face remained so discombobulated and stressed that they had to contain themself from ruining the fun they were having.

Despite clearly not liking the sauce, despite the awful aftertaste left in his mouth, with his smile—gorgeous and kindly divine—he nodded and spoke, quicker than intended, "Yeah, yeah. It's all good."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, totally. Why wouldn't I?" Jude nodded, and this time with more conviction. If he was able to convince his partner to settle with his opinion, maybe he could then believe his own words. "It's great, like, really good. I mean—" He took another long sip of water; the aftertaste was far too strong and awful. "—maybe I would put a bit less salt in it. But other than that," he shrugged as his smile returned to his features. That struggle and hurt from before had faded for the most part. "it was great, loved it, really."

"And you're sure about that?"

Jude noticed a smirk slowly settling across their lips, making his smile falter a bit. "Of course! Why wouldn't I—" His mouth fell open when he noticed the phone hidden by the knife rack. "No way! Why though?" He complained as he playfully shoved his partner who was in a small fit of laughter. The fact that he soon noticed the salt on the kitchen island behind them also didn't sit well with him, like he allowed himself to get played.

"It's just a bit of fun!" Calming down, sometime later or sooner, Y/N exhaled deeply as they got out their final laughs. "Why did you lie about that?"

"I feel like I have no room to judge your cooking skills with the ones I have," Jude admitted. He didn't cook or bake for them on the regular like Y/N did for him. If it wasn't them cooking or baking in the house, it was his mom, or their mom, or their sisters—honestly, anyone but him, even takeout beat him to it. It wasn't that he didn't try or that he was incapable in the kitchen. It was just for the best if he wasn't the one cooking. If there were other options than Jude then it would be for the better for everyone.

"Still though," they sighed, nudging him, "One day, which I hope never comes, I could accidentally do something wrong and you might just accept it."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, causing Y/N to laugh and Jude soon followed suit. And that was his denial voicing itself. They were right, and their friends were right; Jude was far too kind to criticise Y/N in any way, so much that he would accept their harmless mistakes without complaint. He wandered around the kitchen, aimlessly, "So if it actually doesn't taste like that, you think I could," shyly, Jude pointed to the pasta casserole, "you know?"

They couldn't help but roll their eyes, letting out a scoff. The appetite was still there and probably would remain for time to come. "Sure, why not?"

Offering him a small spoon of pasta sauce, making sure that it wasn't too hot, Y/N fed him the food. And there it all was, so clear and outstanding. His face grew with stunning delight, his eyes grew large with satisfaction as he dropped his head back, humming low. And there it was, that darling, darling smile of his, all at the cause of a sauce that Jude, personally, believed was cooked to perfection.

"You think I could try more of that?"

"Get changed, then we'll talk."

part 2

1K notes · View notes

cainluvr69 · 1 month ago

Text

"Creeping Shadows" Cain SR Card Story - Boiling Sensibilities

Cain: Alright, so let's do this here… And put these herbs in next…

Snow: My, I thought I smelled something nice, and who should I find when I follow the scent but you. What's in that big pot you have? Are you cooking something, perchance?

Cain: Oh, Lord Snow. I'm trying to make that "curry" thing Master Sage was talking about, since it's apparently a camping mainstay.

Snow: …Courier?

Cain: No, curry. It's a kind of soup that's made by just throwing in all sorts of ingredients and boiling them together.

Snow: Ohoho, so a type of cooking you excel at, I see. I recall you saying you were just going to "boil up" breakfast for White and I once.

Cain: Ahaha, did I? Well I mean, pretty much anything in the world can be eaten if you boil or fry it.

Snow: Is that true…? Are you sure…?

Cain: So anyways, Akira and the previous Sage said that curry is spicy, with a brown roux, and that it smells really good.

Snow: I see, I see! So we've got a rather fiery soup on our hands, then. So would those herbs you put in be the finishing touch on the fabled "curry" flavor?

Cain: Honestly? I have no idea.

Snow: What.

Cain: Neither of the Sages could remember exactly what kind or how many herbs or spices are supposed to go into it. So the first time I tried to make it, it didn't really turn out very well, but there's all sorts of herbs growing around here, yeah? I figure if I put in a bunch of the herbs here that are close enough to how they remember it, it'll turn out better this time.

Snow: So you're just shooting blindly until you hit the target????

Cain: I'm being pragmatic about it. And well, I've definitely got the spice, but the color and aroma aren't quite right, I think. Please, Lord Snow. Could you also add something that you think might be good?

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow: Goodness, me too? Why, that sounds… …Super duper fun! Absolutely! But you'll be taking responsibility for it, Cain dearest!

Cain: Of course I will. Alright, let's get back to the hunt now.

Snow: How do these herbs seem to you? If my memory hasn't failed me yet they should add a nice bit of spice.

Cain: Sounds great! Go for it, toss 'em in. Ooh! It's smelling great!

Snow: It's still not exactly brown, though. It's almost minestrone-like.

Cain: Hmm… Oh! How about we add some of those yellow flowers over there?

Snow: Sure, why not! In they go!

Snow & Cain: …! Is this…!!

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow & Cain: We did iiiit!! Clap clap clap!

Cain: The moment we added those flowers, we hit "spicy", "brown", and "smells good" all in one go! Now it's time for the taste test. C'mon, you try it too.

Snow: Huh?! Umm~mm, I think I'd like to hear your review first, Cain dear!

Cain: You sure? Well then, here I go. Munch… …It's good!

Snow: For real?! Then, I suppose I shall as well… Munch. …Goodness, this really is quite divine!

Cain: Right?

Snow: I know I'm the one who added the final ingredients, but goodness, I'm amazed we ended up here with such rando--ahem, pragmatism.

Cain: Ahaha. Maybe you've just got a talent for boiling things up! I only could've done this with your help, Lord Snow. Thank you very much. Yay!

Snow: Ya~ay! High five!

Cain: Alright, lemme go call the Sage. I really hope they like our curry!

Training Episode: Typical Toppings

Cain: Master Sage. Did you enjoy the curry we made the other day?

Akira: Right, I wanted to tell you!! It was absolutely perfectly currylike. Thank you so much for letting me taste something from home.

Cain: Nice! I'm happy you liked it. You were eating it with bread, right?

Akira: Yeah, I wanted to pair it with some carbs. But yeah, next time, I'd really want to have it with rice instead. Oh, and then putting pickled veggies and cheese on top too… Oh, but scallions or egg would be good too. Ohh, my imagination's starting to get away from me now that I'm thinking about home…

Cain: Pickles…? And eggs and cheese? It's a very versatile food, huh.

Akira: It really is. It all comes down to personal preference, of course, but putting on all your favorite toppings is definitely one way to enjoy curry.

Cain: Ooh! Yeah, it did taste like just about anything could go well with it. Then I want to add some fried meat. Not fried as-is like I usually make, but properly breaded 'n stuff. Fried oasis pig meat would probably go great with it.

Akira: …Oh, I know, like katsu curry! We had that in my world, too! In fact it's so common that you'd see it on a store's menu separate from regular curry. I bet you'd love it, Cain.

Cain: Nice, a special Sage suggestion. I'll definitely have to try it out, then. I was just putting stuff in randomly, so I don't know if I'll be able to recreate that exact recipe, but… Next time we're in the area, I'll do my best!

#.mhyktl #.cardtl #cain knightley #dragging myself thru the dirt for my beloved cain. by god

39 notes · View notes

ruushes · 7 months ago

Note

I love your Shadowheart so much. The way you draw her (and everything you draw, really) is just. Amazing. I've spent most of my life hating my body and only in the last few years have I started feeling more at ease in it. I wish I'd seen more art like yours when I was still struggling a lot with my body image. It means the world to me to see such a lovely depiction of a character with a body that looks like mine. So thank you for sharing your beautiful art with us 💕 and thank you for having excellent taste lol

💕💕that's something that's always been important to me with drawing! making characters that look like me and that look like the people i'm attracted to. and it's helped me a lot too to make that kind of art and see it from others as well. i'm so happy i can help other people that way too! and it means the world to me that it means a lot to you, if that makes any sense 😅

also, related, ive gotten a couple messages similar to this abt body feelings and have been uncertain abt answering them bc they're not anon and kind of personal? but i rly appreciate them too. anyway here's some more in-progress shadowzel

#talkin #wips #asks #my art

97 notes · View notes

a-random-whovian7 · 2 years ago

Text

*LONG POST WARNING*

What your favourite New Who Companion says about you (absolutely no offence meant towards anyone, this is just for fun):

Rose: Either the most vanilla person alive, or an RTD era purist. Has spent years fighting for the honor of the RTD era. Ships Ten and Rose to the degree that they shudder at the thought of the Doctor having a relationship with someone else. Is constantly at war with Amy stans. Part of the reason for the RTD enjoyer vs Moffat fan civil war. Usually nice in real life, and quite nostalgic for the Tennant era, so usually OK to be friends with. Unless they say Mickey was treated fairly, at which point, you should run.

Mickey: One of the most kind-hearted, empathetic people, who saw how Mickey was mistreated by Rose in S2 and immediately just wanted to check if he was OK. Is able to hold decent relations with Rose stans due to Mickey's character development after the relationship, and has a surprisingly strong alliance with Rory fans. Was gutted when they heard about Noel Clarke's horrible behaviour and actions.

Adam: Let's be real, we all forgot this guy existed and for good reason.

Captain Jack: Every night, they lie in bed, haunted by the ghost of Torchwood. Loved seeing Jack again in S12, but felt disappointed after his lack of presence in Revolution of the Daleks. Has modelled several aspects of their personality on the Captain, and has the dating life (or lack thereof) to prove it. Cried at the deaths of Ianto and John Barrowman's career.

Martha: Basically Rose fans, except with slightly more indie music taste. Either that, or a person who knows how integral Martha is to 10's character arc. Has attempted to defend the "Space Jesus" scene a couple of times, and cried with happiness when Harbo Wholmes said that it worked in his review. Has a bit of a patchy relationship with Rose stans due to the Doctor's rebound arc, gets along better with Donna stans due to the fact that S4 acknowledged that 10 mistreated Martha. Generally has good taste and is nice to be around, just don't mention how undeveloped her relationship with Tom was.

Donna: Either a child of the late 90s/early 2000s who had the joy of watching New Who at it's peak in 2008, a person who really appreciates great character writing and an excellent series, or someone who just wanted a break from the companion having a romantic subplot. Often gets into heated arguments with Amy stans by (correctly) saying that Series 4 was better than Series 5. Uses Donna's funny dialogue and quips to hide the fact they are still recovering from one of the cruellest companion exits in the show. Generally nice, but very defensive of The Doctor's Daughter.

Wilf: I love these guys. Knows that a) Wilf is the single best character in the entirety of New Who and b) he counts as a companion. Has the best possible taste, and is an absolute joy to be around as a result of it. An emotional wreck after every single rewatch of The End of Time, especially now that the legendary Bernard Cribbins has left us. Has excellent relations with Donna stans, and was similarly overjoyed when they heard about the 60th. Refuses to admit that The End of Time would have possibly worked better as a 90 minute special.

Amy: Definitely has followed the eons-old teaching of "gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss" at some point. Refuses to admit A Good Man Goes to War was mid and that Amy really badly mistreated our sweet prince Rory in a large chunk of S5. Is really happy that Karen Gillan made it big in Hollywood. Friendly unless you say you prefer Rose to Amy. Could not be comforted after that cameo in Time of the Doctor.

Rory: Their favourite episode is usually The Girl Who Waited. Loyal, friendly, introverted and lovable, they of course identify with Rory's slightly long-suffering but accepting and funny character. Understandably annoyed at how Amy mistreated Rory in S5, but happy that S6 & 7A fixed that marriage. Thanks to Rory waiting for 2000 years, their bar for any personal relationship has been set insanely high. Celebrated when the BBC actually allowed Arthur Darvill to style his hair in S7A. Had to check Rory was definitely dead at the end of Angels Take Manhattan due to Moffat killing him whenever more tension was needed in a story.

River Song: Divided into two groups. Those who like River Song's more nuanced appearances in Silence in the Library, A Good Man Goes to War and The Husbands of River Song are awesome. Those who prefer the episodes that Moffat wrote with one hand, less so. Was overjpyed to see the Moffat Era reappraisal of 2020, only to be slightly disappointed when people said S6 was his weakest series. Wierdly enough, gets along nicely with all other companion stans. Has definitely said "Hello sweetie" to their partner/partners/friends/pets. If they prefer 12 and River to 11 and River, pass them the aux on a long journey (trust me on this one).

Clara: From my personal experience, there is a 60% chance that they are a closeted bisexual. Doesn't get why Clara was so overhated, especially in S9. Is wierdly OK with admitting that Victorian Clara was slightly more interesting to begin with, but knows that the character worked so well in 12's era. If they ship 11 and Clara, keep an eye on them. They haven't fully earned your trust yet.

Bill: Heterosexuality was never an option. Gets along well with Clara stans, as they both know how much the 12th Doctor's era s l a p p e d. Had their emotions mangled during the S10 finale, but fortunately came out intact thanks to that puddle and a happy-ish ending. Loved that Bill called 12 out on his bullshit and asked all the trivial questions we were all thinking. Singlehandedly drove the Moffat Era reappraisal over quarantine. Has the best fashion sense out of all the stans.

Nardole: A terrifying enigma. Looked at all the companions with complex stories, interesting arcs and major development, but instead went with the comic relief. Yes, Nardole is funny and a great support character, but... er... how? They can be nice. They can also be fans of Little Britain, which is a red flag. It's a roll of the dice.

Graham: Bradley Walsh was the highlight of the slightly undervalued S11, and they know it. Definitely has the vibe of being 10+ years older than they actually are in terms of attitude, but in the best way. Has definitely owned a pair of cords in their life. Goes into Doctor Who just looking for a fun hour of entertainment rather than lore. Great to hang out with. They always bring snacks.

Ryan: Tries to ignore the fact that Ryan has the most fucking insulting depiction of dyspraxia in any form of media (sorry, I have dyspraxia, and the way it was treated in S11 & 12 just really rubbed me the wrong way), but is also helpful and really in favour of spreading awareness. We're cool for now.

Yaz: One of the nicest, most well-intentioned people you will ever meet, always defending the underdog, supporting others and just being sweeter than a tea with six sugars, but also a master of illusion. Has read so many fan fictions, seen so much fan art and shipped Thasmin so much that they have tricked themselves into thinking Yaz is a three-dimensional, well-written character whose story was not completely made up on the go by Chibnall. Little more than a defeated husk after Power of the Doctor, being rewarded for all those years of fanfics, shipping and defending the era with a couple of longing stares and some hastily written "will they/won't they" scenes before 13 unceremoniously booted Yaz out of the TARDIS. Thinks Demons of the Punjab is the best 13 episode when it is really The Haunting of Villa Diodati.

Dan: Is more of a fan of John Bishop and his charisma than they are a fan of Dan, or is a terminally online person who thinks quoting "Evil Dan" videos makes them the funniest human alive (it really doesn't).

Want more of this for some reason? Try your Favourite Doctor or Favourite Master

819 notes · View notes

the-cookie-of-doom · 8 months ago

Text

“Rise and shine, P’Kim!”

Kim reluctantly opened his eyes to a kind face smiling down at him, looking much too bright and chipper for the early hour.

“It is six o’clock in the morning. I’ve just finished breakfast—fried eggs and rice, with coffee. Cream, no sugar, and cinnamon syrup. You have a radio appearance in two hours, at eight o’clock, which leaves approximately forty-five minutes for you to get ready.”

“Thank you, Chay,” Kim groaned, rolling over and tugging the blanket over his head. The android had pulled open the curtains, and it was late enough into spring that the sunlight streamed in unmercifully. “Now go away.”

“Yes, P’Kim,” came the responding chirp, followed by Chay’s gentle footsteps as he vacated the room.

After another ten minutes the android returned, brandishing a cup of coffee, refusing to leave until Kim sat up in bed and accepted it. He sullenly sipped it, sighing at the taste. If there was one benefit to having Chay around—there were many, but Kim wasn’t feeling very charitable just yet—it was his consistency. He made Kim’s coffee perfect every single time.

Chay stood beside the bed, his hands clasped in front of himself, watching Kim in that eerie way of his. Kim still wasn’t used to it yet. It unnerved him, Chay’s constant attention, although it shouldn’t; Kim was used to far worse in his line of work. At least Chay never leered. His expression was always soft and friendly, warm no matter what, regardless of Kim’s own attitude.

Maybe that was it. Chay never reacted to him. Not even when Kim tried to shake that unflappable kindness with pointless commands or snappy comments.

“You have thirty minutes before you have to leave, P’Kim.”

He sighed.

“You know, before you, I could sleep in a lot more.” Especially when it came to radio shows, where Kim didn’t have to worry about a stylist or makeup. He could stay in bed until the very last minute, throw on a simple outfit, and arrive with minutes to spare. He rarely took the time for breakfast, helping himself to whatever snacks were provided by whatever event he was attending if he got hungry.

Chay only smiled.

“You would sleep more if you went to bed earlier, P’Kim,” Chay sweetly responded. Kim glared up at the android from behind his hair, falling soft and unstyled across his eyes. “Breakfast is getting cold.”

“I’m coming.”

Forced out of the comfort of his bed, Kim followed Chay into the kitchen, where the android finished cleaning up the mess from breakfast while Kim ate said breakfast. He laughed a little bit at the smiley face drizzled onto his egg.

“Is it to your satisfaction?”

“Yes,” Kim said, making Chay beam at him. Another odd little quirk of his; Chay was always so expressive. Every little thing seemed to fill him with pleasure. He would smile and laugh and wiggle, would bounce in place when he was excited, or flutter his hands through the air while he talked. More animated than Kim in many ways. Kim wondered if it was normal. More than once, he’d been tempted to find someone to ask, but one thing always stopped him: he didn’t want anyone else to know.

Androids were not… uncommon. They were exclusive, though. Personal ownership was difficult to obtain; Kim had gone through great lengths to acquire Chay from a private collector, even more so to conceal his identity while he did.

Companion androids like Chay were by far the most commonly available to the average consumer. While they were expensive to purchase, they were much cheaper to rent from any number of… establishments throughout the city.

Androids were hardy, relatively cheap to maintain—regular living expenses could be avoided—and easy to repair, making them an excellent investment for prostitution. They didn’t have to be paid, either, meaning the entirety of the profits went to the brothel owners. Of course, licensing fees were a consideration. Brothels could be fined if the conditions weren’t proven safe for clients. There have been plenty of news stories about gruesome injuries from malfunctioning androids.

The movement towards android sex work was a complex one. Some people advocated it; who cared if a client wanted to rough up one of them? They weren’t real people, they couldn’t be hurt. They couldn’t carry disease, either, and with HIV rates on the rise, that had been one of the driving arguments behind legalizing android-based brothels. No listened to the few sex workers brave enough to speak out about losing their livelihoods to the machines, and the authorities rarely looked too closely during their inspections. Certainly not close enough to determine machine from human in every single case.

Androids filled other roles, as well. They started with the police force, little more than sentient shields. Then some government officials began buying them up, adding them to their bodyguard roster. Then celebrities joined in as well, when having an android at their heel became the fashionable taboo. Fifty years later, there were over a dozen major manufacturers across Asia alone, and dozens more operating out of shady warehouses, pumping out subpar products—often salvaged and repurposed from the name brands—at a steep markup.

Kim didn’t know where Chay came from. Honestly, he didn’t really care, not enough to chase down his origins. He certainly hadn’t come with any official registration papers. In fact his legal status was in a gray area at best; one of the many reasons Kim kept Chay safely hidden away in his condo, and didn’t let anyone know of his existence.

Even still, regardless of his unknown origins, there was no doubt as to his purpose. Kim watched Chay move through the kitchen, cleaning and putting away the dishes, wiping down the counters. A perfect companion, programmed to serve Kim’s every whim. His previous owner, a salacious high-end collector with an entire room full of bodies, displayed in glass cases when they weren’t in use—Chay being one of them—spared no detail in explaining the full range of Chay’s capabilities.

Kim hadn’t fucked Chay. He had no intention to, either, he wasn’t—he didn’t want Chay for that. He wasn’t one of those kinds of perverts that couldn’t connect with another human, leaving companion androids—sex bots—as their only option. He wasn’t some kind of degenerate with desires that no sane human could safely or willingly fulfill. He just…

He was just lonely.

Honestly, it would probably be less humiliating if he did want Chay for the sex, and not because he was so dysfunctional, he was incapable of letting another person close to him. But that was the truth. That he was too mistrustful—too broken—for any kind of intimacy, yet he still craved it, desired to be close to someone, anyone, until he was driven to a blackmarket collector offering the finest piece of his collection, in exchange for a truly exorbitant price.

Kim hadn’t even tried to negotiate. He’d taken one look at Chay’s sweet face, his round cheeks, the soft curls falling over his closed eyes as he lay dormant, and knew he would do anything to have him. Two weeks later Kim hadn’t regretted the decision once.

“P’Kim, it’s almost time for you to leave. You have ten minutes before you’re late.”

Well, most of the time Kim didn’t regret it, anyway. Sometimes Chay could be even more annoying than his manager.

“I’m going.”

“Don’t forget about your photoshoot after! Or your meeting after that.”

Fuck. He had forgotten.

“Which meeting?”

“Contract negotiations with Vogue Thailand,” Chay dutifully responded, his voice following Kim into his bedroom, where he hastily dressed.

#cookie writes #kimchay #im not super satisfied with this #im brain fried #but here #android au lol #kim is a sadboy #chay is a ball of sunshine #and i promise nothing angsty happens trust me i only write happy things and no angst ever <3

90 notes · View notes

mi-spark · 18 days ago

Note

GUH I just noticed someone already asked about 3 so I'll go with 4, 7 and 9 :3 (9's kind of a boring one but oh well)

YOU ARE SO GOOD MY DUDE and this works out bc a lot of these questions can be answered in multiple ways :3c

4. what did you name your hero and partner characters? and why? THIS TIME i'm gonna talk about my rescue team, specifically for rtdx

freaking baring my soul here these sketches are ROUGH

they are Team Lucky, Finn (feraligatr, partner) and Ryme (sylveon, hero). they are alternate versions of my blue rescue team of the same names, except finn stayed a croconaw and ryme became a jolteon. i created them when i was 14, so they are my second oldest pmd characters and are over 10 years old now (wild). i remember the night i was thinking of their names— i knew i wanted to call the totodile Finn cuz i just liked it for a totodile, and i wanted their names to have a ring together, so then Ryme just popped into my head and stuck lol. finn & ryme!

(a bit of a tangent here but i was pretty proud of coming up w the name Ryme bc i hadn’t ever seen it before, and then years later Pokemon proceeds to use that name TWICE in canon— with Ryme City in detective pikachu, and then the ghost gym leader from scarlet and violet ! and i was like bitch the fuck! i INVENTED that name! lol jokes aside in a way it is validating to see that name used in canon.)

ANYWAY for rtdx, i played as eevee and totodile again and decided to slightly tweak their personalities and evolution choices in order to think of it as an alternate timeline of sorts. also they r pining for each other in this timeline :3c my singular heroxpartner team... hmm i wonder why Ryme became a sylveon... (she does not know why.)

7. how do you interpret the future trio's relationship to each other? extracting my brain from the fanon as much as i can, i think they would all be very trusted allies, if not good friends. i wouldn't consider it a huge stretch at all for the three of them to stay a team– even if just temporarily– and travel the grass continent offering their wealth of knowledge and skills to assist the scattered surviving pokemon and restore the land to a thriving and beautiful place to be. the sableye would join their efforts too!

BUT. but but but. ☝️ i would love it if the trio formed a permanent team. and the polycule headcanons are very fun :)

9. what do you ship in the games? amaya you know well that i have a taste for toxic yaoi, and this series just so happens to have an excellent example of it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

but might i also propose: dugtrio x the sea. thank you for your consideration

#toxic yuri lopunny/weavile rules too #asks #posting #pmd #ty for the ask and SORRY FOR THE WAIT LOL #long post #i'm so sorry that i yap

31 notes · View notes

annawayne · 7 months ago

Note

TOP 10 favourite AA fanfics?

Hello!

Thank you for asking me too, since I saw the answers from the dear comrades in AA fandom, and I'm very touched you also asked me. Thank you!

As for TOP, it's going to be my subjective taste and, sorry, more than 10, so without further do, in no particular order:

The whole AruAni in Fort Salta, with the leading role of Village By The End of The World by @moonspirit. The true treasure for the AruAni fandom, but, in my opinion, even for the whole AoT fandom as an incredible and impressive post-canon tale.

Phenomenally written with complex, layered narration and excellent character analysis and exploration of various topics - outside and inside, past and present, and the sheer beauty of human lives with all the struggles, traumas and nightmares, tangled with the incredible moments of mundane and peaceful life. This story makes you love this life and see the beauty in the smallest of things - both the characters and the readers.

(but honestly, read all Moon's works)

Black Water and the whole collection by @distortedclouds

A very precise dive into Annie's (and Armin's) relationships through the lens of the family - Annie's father and the one Armin and Annie try to build on their own. It's a fresh and solid exploration with a fantastic character analysis without any restrictions - raw and honest, in all glory. Fantastic style, impressive depths, and a story that leaves a huge impact.

Little Bird by @aquietjune is, perhaps, one of the best Annie-centric fics ever written with a unique post-canon setting and a very sharp, in the most wonderful ways, writing style, that immediately steals you away from this world, and you're caught hostage by June's imagination and mysteries.

Legends by @mimiwrites2000 is an impressive, emotional rollercoaster of canon-divergence with heart-wrenching twists and a beautiful writing style that makes you feel longing for something that you don't even know a name. I would describe this fic as "bittersweet nostalgia".

(just like with Clouds and Moon, go and read everything, honestly)

By Each Crime and Kindness (I'm bound to you) by @aruanimess, in my opinion, is one of the best Cadets AruAni stories I've ever read - the story holds the tense melancholy of the canon with the bittersweet moments of adolescence which was forced to live and to love in their cruel world. But the world is also beautiful, and, I suppose, this is exactly what this story is about.

on the path that led me to you by @the-last-thread-of-my-sanity is another perfect example of one of the best Cadest AruAni fics, in my opinion. Very honest, and fragile, just like the first love and the first leaves in the spring, story, that, however, holds a very deep analysis of AruAni moments during their time as Cadets - and what lies beneath the surface.

The Difference Between Us by @/BreakingSanity - maybe, the most unique AruAni fic ever written. I mean, where else would you find Human!Annie and... Tiny!Annie 4 inches tall romance with unique, complex story-building and universe, plot twists and a lot, a lot of emotions? The story hooked you just from the very first chapter.

Wait By The Ocean by @/SirCookieton is absolutely stellar exploration of the grief and denial, love and hope, that is already doomed from the start, but the sheer longing, the raw emotions that etched every word through the course of the story, leave huge scars in your heart as a reminder that, sometimes, the most difficult part is accepting the inevitable.

Nothing Sweeter Than You, A Perfect Love by @dude-why-3 are my personal favourites and the stories that are very dear to my heart. This is a magical tale of star-crossed lovers in a Romanian village, set in the 1950's, and these stories are a wonderful example of how to write romance stories in general. But let me also mention Who painted the sky? - a story that granted me an experience I never had, but it's so well-written, that it feels like I experienced something like this. It feels like a memory from a summer.

A Force To Be Reckoned by @luciensdefenseattorney a solid historical AU, with mysteries, tension and great background stories! And as for the similar vibe, I would also mention The Viscount and His Silent Ballerina by @/cherriesinmoonlight

These City Lights by @annieleonhardt was one of the first AruAni fics I ever read, and it's still one of my favourites, even if it's not finished. Silent movie director Armin and silent movie actress Annie, set in the early 1920's? Yes, please.

Tater Tots & Heavy Thoughts by Anonymous is still one of the most honest, of the most delicate stories I've ever read, written with a lot of care, attention and love for the details. This story had a huge impact on me, and it still has, so if you want to dive into a fantastic character study through the perspective of some very heavy topics which are explored with a lot of care - this story is exactly for this.

Coveted by @/honeyriot is a majestically written exploration of intimacy and how two ruined souls find solace in each other embrace. 11 chapters of sensuality, honesty, bravery and vulnerability.

On freer seas by @/astralcrow is a very solid Pirate AU, with incredible and stunning world-building, great character analysis and development, and the tension that don't leave you several weeks after you finish this mind-blowing story.

And, some incredible oneshots I really liked a lot:

Tangerine Skies and Muffled Cries by @midnightraine131

A River, An Ocean by @yourmaejesty

Dawn by @/aikrm

okay by @lunamoon1233

Deep Cuts by @dude-why-3

A glimpse of us. by @/Decoii

invisible strings by @diam-etrical

If our love is tragedy why are you my remedy? by @aruxani

But let me summarize that eveyone who creates in AA fandom is incredible, and I'm forever grateful for all the content we have in fandom.

You all are wonderful and thank you a lot!

#aruani #aruani fanfiction #aruani fanfic #aruani fic #arminarlert #annie leonhardt #annie leonhart #armin x annie #answered ask #ask

60 notes · View notes

medusas-daughter · 3 days ago

Note

Do you have an opinion as to why Agatha thinks the witches road was a more interesting piece of magic than Wanda's hex ?

Is it because it was based on the ballad ? Or personal interest (his subconscious created something that was directly linked to the culture of witches in a way that the hex really wasn't) ? Or both/something else ?

Thank you for the excellent question 💜

The fact that it's based on something witchy is definitely a big part of why Agatha finds it more interesting. She was super impressed with Wanda's hex and how her magic worked on the whole town, like the technical aspect of it, but I think she just found sitcoms cheesy. But the road leaned so much into witch culture that it's probably more to her taste. And Billy was fascinated with magic whereas Wanda didn't even want to call herself a witch so that contributes to her liking him more than his mother.

The other reason why she thinks the road is more impressive is that the road isn't just forcing them to act out scenarios like Wanda's hex, the road has become an incredibly powerful entity far beyond the theatrics. The poison in the first trial was real. Alice actually broke the generational curse. The ghost of Agatha's mother was actually summoned. Objectively, he created something far more powerful than Wanda's hex that in hindsight looks quite harmless compared to the road that conjures up your worst nightmares and forces you to evolve and heal the parts of you you never wanted to confront. The road did deliver, albeit in a very violent sometimes cruel way, but it delivered. That is objectively an incredibly powerful hex to cast.

And then the fact that it's a piece of Nicky come to life is not négligeable of course. It is Agatha, it is never one thing with her, it's always layers upon layers.

But I do kind of agree with her if only out of personal taste. I love Wandavision and it will always be special by virtue of being the first of Jac's projects I've seen and the first in this format, and the love letter to television it was. But as a non American born in the 90s the early episodes just didn't really speak to me that much, I had to read posts from people who understood the references to really get it. The only one I recognized is the Modern Family one which I loved but that's about it. I was way more interested in the magic part if it all. Now Agatha All Along, as a lover of fantasy and all things witchy, it was a love letter to all those iconic things I've loved so much. The references to Practical Magic, Fleetwood Mac, The Craft, The Wizard of Oz, summer camp horror movies, etc were just incredible.

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #billy maximoff #wanda maximoff #wandavision #anon ask #anon #medusasdaughter answers

21 notes · View notes

unabashednightmarepizza · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii could you make a dating Talbott Winger headcannons I love him so much and I really think he’d be like the I hate everyone but you trope

A/N: I'm sorry that it took such a long time for me to write but I was battling with stress and life lately, and now that I'm fine, I started to have so many ideas but I need to finish request and write the chapters that had been waiting for ages in my documents lol.

And thank you everyone, who waited patiently!

P.S: I don't remember whne this ask was sent so I'm gonna put this on my "Summer Celebration" post!

Requests are OPEN!

𝐷𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑎𝑙𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑠...

We all know Talbott is a silent boy, he prefers to stay away from trouble unlike a certain person that has his interest, but it doesn't mean that he doesn't have an adventurous side of him.

Yet, I still believe that he likes to have some kind of... control? When doing something? Like, yeah, he takes risks.

Just not extreme risks

Or, if you were to introduce him to some muggle vehicles, I think he would love to ride a bike with you and watch as your laugh would be carried to hus ears as the sight of you all happy and glowing would consume him.

Yeah, our boi definetly has a way with words.

Except the point that he made you swear to never talk about the first time he tried it as you showed how to bike, and he fell hard while being busy admiring you in return.

You, of course, accepted it with a giggle but not without crossing your finger because Bill demanded he had to know everything about your date.

He also swoons whenever you beat someone's ass in dueling. There were many times you rocked people's shits, especially Merula's since she always demanded one only to loose, to the point that no one actually stood a chance against you and refused to train.

Proud boyfriend Talbott and proud mama Bill moment 🥺😭

Like really, there isn't something you would do/make that he wouldn't be proud of and supportive

Crochet? Amazing, could you make a hat or a swan plushie? Draw? Excellent! Maybe you could teach me a few things, dove? You want to deceive the first years by playing an innocent game? Well, it's not like him... But he would be down with it anyways, especially after the ultimate "puppy eyes" weapon.

For some reasons, I see his whole vibe with you as Harry Style's "Golden" song 😭😭🥰🥰

It's literally the song that phrases your relationship!

"I know you were way too bright for me/ I'm hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky..."

" Don't wanna let you know I don't wanna be alone/ But I can feel it take a hold, I can feel it take a hold..."

"I can feel you take control, I can feel you take control/ Of who I am, and all I've ever known lovin' you's the antidote..."

Since he didn't have his parents from a young age, and that they were killed right in front of him, Talbott had difficulties with associating himself with people around him.

That doesn't mean he hated them, or didn't want to talk. He did, he really did... He just didn't know how, and was scared that they would be gone too.

Especially early in your "friendship" that he often denied, but secretly liked the taste of the word on his tongue, he pushed and pushed people away, especially you... until only he was left.

But hey, it was a good thing that you were a persistent little shit because not only you were able to befriend him and show the true colors of life, show him that many people cared about him, you also took his heart and soul for yourself... like, for good.

Yeah, Talbott is definetly one of those rare guys who would stay loyal to his partner until the day he died and then even more.

If there was one thing you never expected from him by how he seemed so reserved, it was the fact that he was clingy when alone. Like, eagle boy would do anything to cuddle, hold hands with you, kiss and hug and do anything you ask for.

His hand holding is much more frequent than other forms of PDA. Talbott isn't very keen on them, since he hates attention, but hand holding under the table disecretly happens a lot.

He sits with you during breakfast and dinner, evennif you were in a different house, and your friends tease you for it affectionately.

He especially hold your hand thightly when he feels overwhelmed, or sad because of remembering his mother... to feel grounded, because he often feels like he lives in auto mode where he doesn't actually know what he is doing and doesn't have control.

That's when you step in.

When that happens, and Talbott usually tries to make it all go away through drowning himself in his studies, you would often look for him in thr library. But since he didn't want you to disturb your own peace just to find him, and he also didn't want to be found in a fragile state, he would go for less predictable areas.

He knew it saddened you whenever he refused to talk about his problems, he was aware and it broke his heart too... But he was scared.

You were the best thing that happened to him, even when he thought and still thinks he wasn't worth being loved, even when he thought he wouldn't find any ounce of happiness... Because why would he? He didn't have anyone left from his family at such a young age, his other relatives didn't care much and he was bad at socialising.

He fought and fought, but for what?

But then you came, stubbornly wanting to be his friend... Alongside the huge friend group you brought, and now he had a lot to loose but also a lot he gained.

He didn't understand why someone like you, the hero of Hogwarts, would find anything in him to activelly seek out to be friends with him...

But whatever it was, he was glad. Glad for your stubborn heart, glad because thanks to you, he found a new family.

You healed his aching heart with your sweet smiles, reassuring words and selflessness. Slowly but surely, you settled deep in his heart and after time, he realized he loved you... Immensely.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment obviously, but maybe... he always loved you, while watching from afar... While you won Quidditch, solved the mysteries about the Vaults, saved the school one many times... Or how you achieved more than average witch in your age, or how you risked your whole school life just to help him find the necklace of his mother.

Perhaps he realized right then and there that yes, he was in love with you and yes, he was already too deep to get out of that hole that was love.

And he didn't want to, for he was used to darkness when you came with the light of your eyes and heart, and saved him.

He could never be that boy he once was, and he didn't want to. Because now, he had you and a future to hold on to.

You both were the ones who confessed first, under the night sky as you both blushed at the cliche sight but you were content, happy to call this amazing, kind, thoughful and strong boy your lover.

Like I said before, there are a lot of things he wants to do with you: Travel together, have late night dinner dates, go to a beach, have a little cabin at the outskirts of Scotland...

But above all... There is one thing he wants to do with you the most one thing that often has him blushing and unable to sleep.

Grow old with you.

NOW TO THE FUN PART, ENOUGH DEPRESSING

Whenever you try to find him, out of class and studying sessions you both have, he is in the Owlery and all the owl LOVES him! Like really, whenever you two hang out in the school grounds, a flock of them comes and finds him and perches on both of your shoulders happily while picking on your hairs or hiding behind them in a way of playing with you.

He loves jewelries, mostly necklaces and bracelets, so whenever you buy something for yourself, he demands one too.

And he also loves matching with you too, so any necklaces, he's matching with you. It's one of the subtle ways of telling everyone that you/he was taken.

All the teachers and your friends knew you two would be end game, from how in love you both seemed and how Talbott started to smile genuinely after such a long time.

But what sealed it for you both was when he asked you to come to the Owlery, that he had an important thing to say and hive to you.

Imagine your surprise when he looked at you so softly and offered the necklace that had his mother's swan feather, accompanied with the pendants of his initials.

"This necklace used to be the sign of all the things I lost, a reminder of death... But I know my mum would have wanted you to have it, the girl who means so much to me, who I imagine my life to be spent with... I want this to be the sign of our love and my loyalty to you, for you to carry on your neck and hopefully never take it out... If you will have it and me..."

Like I said, he is a one-woman kind of boy and when you start a relationship and things started to get serious and deep, Talbott wouldn't shy away from hinting at marriage and a life together.

Because if this didn't show you the depth of his love, I don't know what would.

Another cute gesture he does with you, especially in like 6th or 7th year, is to wrap his arms around you from behind and put his chin on top of your head after laying a tender kiss there. ( why do boys get so much taller in like a few months when I'm stuck at the same height for the rest of my life 😭)

You two often visit and stay until late in the Owlery. That place had become some kind of a safe space for you both, where you can be with each other in silent, read books or simply feed the owls happily.

OMG HIS FAVOURITE WAY OF SPENDING TIME WITH YOU IS READING ❤️😍

You liked reading books by yourself, but when your boyfriend had a raspy voice and was food at imitations of the characters, you didn't have to do anything except laying back on his chest as you buried yourself in his smell as he read to you, thightenung his hold on your frame.

But just as you loved being read to, he actually likes it as well. He is just bad at showing and telling that. But whenever you see him looking at a book, then at you with a pout, you know what he wants.

And who were you to deny him of that when he looked so cute?

Madam Pince, even though she resented you for pranking her and was close to banning you from the library, was now looking at you and your boyfriend softly because one, you finally weren't there to break the rules but rather trully reading and two, you also helped her clean the library with Talbott too.

But none of you needed to know.

Now that I mentioned her, all the teachers have had bets about your love life. Like when one of you will confess, when you will have a kiss, when you will have a date etc.

And quite creepily, Minerva and Flitwick almost all the time knows when and where and wins quite a few galleons.

Snape couldn't care less, because he hated your guts... Or mayyybee he was slightly interested since you gifted him a cake and offered good mornings every day even though he would snap and he started to not hate you but just dislike.

Sprout was just happy to see her two favourite students together, alongside with Minerva, and offered her blessing with an enchanted flower that would never wilt.

But Dumbledore? Oh, he always knew from the start and didn't bother with such childish act... but he had bets going on with others in the ministry soo~ (Don't get me wrong, I still hate him.)

You know when Hermione said that girls could get in boys' dormitory but they couldn't enter girls'?

Yeah, there were many times you did that, at the beginning for cuddles... And later in your last year, for different things *wink wink*

Ehem, another act he loves doing are ( and I need to say, if a man did that to me, I would simply melt) taking your hand in his and putting it on his chest, where his heart is and kissing your forehead and lingering his lips there for a few seconds more.

Just imagine the feels and how hard your heart would beat I-

FLOWERS! YOU BOTH GIVE EACH OTHER FLOWERS ALL THE TIME!

You giving him flowers actually has a funny story because you thought he wouldn't like them, especially early in your relationship

But you couldn't help but think that daisies would look good on his dark, long hair

So you hastily went to Hogsmeade, came back in a hurry and sent a letter to him through your owl to meet you in the Owlery

It was definetly worth seeing the dark red tint on his skin when tou explained why you wanted to give him them

"I wanted to show you that I care and love you a lot, and flowers are a great way to show it, especially since I enchanted them!.. And by your reaction, I'll do that more in the future!"

And yes, you did so... Even after being married for such a long time, eventually having kid/s and in your 60-70

And he never stopped blushing and returning the gesture just as sweetly, always adding a little blessing and thanks to Merlin for bringing you into his life

This headcanons are already taking so long so I'll stop here before it gets out of control lol

And I'll go and continue crying at the corner because I don't have a Talbott in my life 🥺

#talbott winger #hogwarts mystery talbott #talbott x jacob's sibling #talbott x mc #hphm talbott #talbott x reader #talbott winger x reader #talbott winger x mc #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts game #SUMMER CELEBRATION🏖

295 notes · View notes