#this is such a wonderful positive place for me and I need to thank everybody for that!!! <3< /div>
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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago
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whiny and spoiled
in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!
18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs
You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly. 
You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him. 
“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting. 
“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?” 
“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.” 
“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.” 
“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table. 
“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him. 
“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.” 
He circles to the foot of the bed. 
“Are you saying you want to scare me away?” 
“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease. 
You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes. 
“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces. 
“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered. 
“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.  
“Shut up. I’m totally scary.” 
But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you. 
“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.” 
Your eyes narrow. 
“Don’t patronize me.” 
The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.  
“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?” 
You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you. 
“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.” 
“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.” 
“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.  
“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip. 
“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.” 
“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?” 
“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough. 
“I like hearing you say yes.” 
You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate. 
“Yes, you can take them off.” 
A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.  
“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed. 
“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.” 
“My attitude is your fault.” 
“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.” 
“Spencer,” you grit. 
He slings your ankles over his shoulders. 
“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.” 
And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?” 
“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his. 
“Are you just saying that?” 
Another kiss. 
“No! Mean it,” you whimper. 
“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.  
The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds. 
“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur. 
He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous. 
Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.  
His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.  
“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.  
“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.” 
“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message. 
“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?” 
“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.  
Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you. 
“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!” 
He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak. 
You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.  
“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth. 
“You can take it for a minute, honey,” 
A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth. 
The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on. 
“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.” 
“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.” 
“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.” 
“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.” 
You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.” 
“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.” 
“Don’t go spreading it around.” 
“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer. 
“You’re not even a little scared of me?” 
He smoothes your hair away from your eyes. 
“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.” 
You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again. 
“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts. 
“Oh, do I?” 
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contentloadingandstuff · 5 months ago
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Down Bad For You - Fontaine Girls x Male!Reader
A/N: The idea behind this one is this - what "pervy" kinks do the Genshin girls have? Since it's men that are usually depicted as having these, I thought it would be a nice change of pace. Women are like that too, though we view them as more "proper". They can be horny just like us men, even if they're fictional. The research for this one was fun, as I've never really explored the other perspective. I've planned this for each nation's characters, and I'm even open to writing something like this for the male cast - if my handful of fem readers want me to. Anyway, enjoy!
A/N2: The gif is how I imagine them thinking of these.
CW: Anal, roleplay, BDSM, pain play, Dom/sub dynamics, consensual non-consent, sex work roleplay. Very "concentrated" smut.
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Everybody feels extra naughty once in a while - that applies to girls too. They are commonly believed to be more proper and restrained than guys, but that’s hardly true - they can be just as obscene in thought and action as men. They have their needs too, no? And although (most) of them wouldn’t admit to their dirty wants to anyone except you, are these really bad? After all, a girl being hopelessly horny for her man is hardly a sin. 
The care and love that Furina receives from you is something she values deeply. Sometimes, when she looks up at you, she feels like all she wants to do is to make you happy. Do everything, just to hear “good girl” fall from your lips. It's no wonder, then, that she likes to call you “daddy” when she's under you. No matter how rough you are, Furina will hide her face in your arms and take it - you want her to feel good, so there's no reason to worry. All you have to do is ask, and in return, you'll get to hear ‘yes daddy' and ‘I love you daddy'. Praise her often, let her act on her fantasies, and she'll be as happy as can be. 
Clorinde’s profession, and her main source of income, is being a duelist for hire. But what if she had a… different job? One where all a guy has to do is jingle a few Mora in front of her to get her tits out? Of course, being a prostitute is not something any sane woman - let alone Clorinde - would do, but the thought of being your pussy for hire gets her positively drenched. Perhaps it's the feeling of submission, the knowledge that you can do anything you want to her for the right price? Or maybe it's the chance to act like a bold, shameless whore without worrying about her image in your eyes? No matter the reason, she'll be thrilled if you let her indulge that fantasy in the bedroom. It's a fun way to signal what you feel like - give her a handful of Mora and she'll give you a hand, but a jingling purse will move her panties out of the way. Since it's just roleplay, the money doesn't really play a part and is usually just there for fun. But if you ever want to give her money, do it this way - you'll get an opportunity to see her furious blush as she pays for a dress or a new hat, remembering what exactly she had to touch and suck to “earn” these Mora…
Handsy? That's an understatement when talking about Navia. This woman keeps her hands glued to you, and they always seem to travel down to your balls. She absolutely adores these little guys. Watching a movie? She's rolling your nuts in her hand under the blanket. Cuddling? Her warm hand wraps around them and keeps them comfy. Railing her? She'll keep your sack in place with a firm grip. You can expect plenty of worship coming their way, as there's no better aftercare than having your sack spit-shined by an eager mouth. Balls are soft, cool and tender, feeling so perfectly masculine in her hands. All she is doing is giving your baby makers what's theirs - it's thanks to them that her belly bulges time and time again with cute, healthy babies. There's something exciting, though, in how nervous you get when she squeezes them a little tighter or drags her teeth over the sensitive skin. She has your masculinity, your male pride, in the palm of her hand, doesn't she? Don't worry - she won't damage the goods, as you still have plenty of kids to fuck into her~
She's a rare example of a person that really likes each part of her job. Writing, interviewing, taking photos and capturing things on film - Charlotte enjoys each part of the process, and that obviously bleeds into the bedroom. Her trusty Kamera captured more than just famous people, she'll have you know. She has entire smut albums at home, brimming with filthy pictures that show a completely different, far more slutty side of the journalist. Of course, she has a big reputation to uphold - these pictures getting out would be a major blow to her image, but what's life without a little risk? Nobody but you knows that Charlotte walks around with a few of these pics folded up in her wallet. And she doesn't play a stakeless game - she makes sure that each picture includes some part of her face, or at least a clue to her identity, usually the pink tuft of trimmed pubes. Each time she opens her wallet in public, she feels a tingle of excitement mixed with fear at the prospect of somebody seeing her creampied pussy, your thick cum pouring out like dense cream, or just what kind of facial expression she pulls when there's a cock lodged balls deep in her asshole. Of course, you have free access to the whole collection - she trusts you to keep them between you and her. The benefits of developing the photos yourself, right?
As all proper, young ladies, Emilie read a lot of books during her youth and continues doing so to this day. Some of the titles she stumbled upon were more… improper than others, but they quickly became her (literal) dirty pleasure. She found a special interest in mixing pain with pleasure. Whips, clamps, spiked wheels, cuffs and many more torture implements fill her collections, all ready to provide the most intense of experiences. Emilie used to lament to herself that she had no man that would embrace her, let alone her kink, but now? My, the possibilities are endless! She made herself a special playroom, and when she's in there - you're free to do anything your mind conjures to her, no matter how mean it is. Within the pre-established rules, of course. Hoist her up by the panties and just lay back, watching her wiggle helplessly and moan as the fabric bites into her plump pussy. Stuff your boxers into her mouth fingerblast her, adding heavier weights to her poor nipples every time she trembles from the pleasure. Punish her disobedience with relentless edging and an unlubed dildo up her ass. Don't stop, even when she finally releases the stress and pain you inflicted on her all over your cock. And when you're done, scoop up your exhausted wife and shower her with kisses - there's nothing nicer than some love and cuddles after being so thoroughly tormented. 
It's always the quiet ones. Would you expect the quiet and socially awkward Lynette to hand you a vibe and a remote? She's an expert in keeping up appearances, so do your worst. Lynette can take even the highest setting with only a blush and grimace, but it's the long game that gets her. Lynette knows this, and the first hour is always a desperate fight not to cum too much, as she knows overstimulation will crack her stoic facade. Show some patience and you'll catch a sight of her knees buckling or her tail shivering. Don't wear her out too soon though, there's still a lot of things she needs to get done. Before she started doing this regularly, conversations with people were boring and exhausting. They still are tiring, don't get her wrong, but now they are constant battles to keep herself from whining out loud and collapsing on the floor. Luckily, her brothers and friends don't have her feline hearing and she's the only one that can hear - and feel - the constant buzz inside her folds. 
Gods, you're so hot. Chevruse can't help but think of you and only you when you are away. Your body, your scent, your warmth, your beautiful voice… The groans as you chase your pleasure, the ravenous way you fuck her until you're content, only to do mount her again in a few minutes… You're so strong and insatiable. She always wondered how it would be to share you with other girls and watch as you juggle pussies and mouths as you see fit. If you'll have her, Chevruse will gladly offer a threesome, maybe even a foursome to her friends. Wouldn't it be nice? To have two other pussies to fuck when your main toy breaks? It's also a great way of bonding between besties. After all, what brings girls closer that sloppily sharing a load with Emilie or eating your creampie straight out of Chiori's cunt? 
Being independent and strong is a significant part of Chiori’s character. Wouldn't it be nice, though, to give up some of that every now and again? Have someone care for her, keep her close and tell her what's good for her? Of course it would - who would use this power better than a man? And what man would take better care of her than you, her darling husband? Keep in mind, though, that Chiori tends to be sassy and sarcastic with you - she clearly needs discipline. It's not that she doesn't respect you, she keeps her tone quiet and gaze low to the ground when you're her ‘Sir’, but she'll act bratty just to feel you dominate and discipline her. You may nominally punish her, but she's having the time of her life being set straight by a strong, mature, older and more experienced man. Every time she comes home late from the shop, her knees buckle at the thought of what she'll be doing in a while - digging her nails into your pants and whimpering into your thigh as you paint her ass red with your belt, make her kneel on dried peas or lock the bathroom door until she's feeling truly sorry. Every time, after enduring her punishment, Chiori will cling to you, seeking comfort and forgiveness from her ‘Sir’. Though this kink of hers shows up only behind closed doors, she might sometimes call you the honorific in a hushed tone, or hang off your arm as you take her out to dinner or the theater. Maybe submitting to a man isn't as bad as she thought - it definitely is hot as hell. 
Everyone is very respectful and fearful of Arlecchino, which does, at times, make her days very dull. Oh how she would love someone to come in, disrespect her, and give her a reason to let her frustrations out. While this does happen sometimes, she never gets to experience the smutty kind of that. And that's when you come in. Since she’s lucky to have a man of her own, Arlecchino won't hesitate to use you for all you are worth. But she doesn't just want to be made angry, no. She'll clearly communicate what she wants - she wants to be helpless, she wants to be angry, she wants to be desperate until she can't take it anymore and she just breaks. She'll love nothing less than being tied up and forced to cum way beyond what she can take, having her mind melted into slop over hours of stimulation. Vibes and wands are your friends here. Tie her up and just leave her there, maybe slap your cock across her face to rile her up even more. After the overstimulation kicks in, at first she'll be angry - Arlecchino will curse you, for the audacity of doing this to Harbinger and will threaten you with the worst fates imaginable. It's just good fun, so you shouldn't take it seriously, and neither should you stop until you hear the safe word. Push her to her limits. She loves it. Her noble blood, her titles, her position, her power, her influences… She can bring them up all she wants, but they won’t give her anything - not when there's a wand on max power, blasting her clit for the third hour in a row. Eventually you'll hear her beg, plead with you to let her rest, but don't relent. Push her further, watch as she understands that nothing will change her predicament and begs for mercy with her eyes, creaming on the toy time and time again until you grant her mercy. But don't go just yet. You must be so horny and frustrated, all because you indulged her in this. It's only right for her to give you some pleasure too, so go ahead and fuck her stupid, for good measure. Make sure there's not a conscious thought behind her crossed eyes. She can take all of this, don't worry. Arlecchino isn't some delicate girl that will yield to anything. She's a woman, and your own toy - she can take a proper punishment. If anything is wrong, she'll use the safe word, but that doesn't happen often - after all, you know your wife's body so well. 
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Thanks for reading!
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queermasculine · 3 months ago
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you don't have to answer this but are you still on t? I know you've talked about thinking you were into guys before figuring out u were into butches and I wonder if that realization changed how you saw your body?
I ask bc I'm in a spot where I can't fully tell if I need to go on t to look the way I'd feel right or if I can get to enough of a butch level with exercise and clothing and being around better people than currently. My gender wouldn't change either way, I'm still not a woman, but .. yeah.
realizing i was into other butches did change how i saw my body absolutely, like completely changed it, i don't think i had anything positive to say about my body pre-butch4butch at all tbh. looking at myself and realizing my masculine dream partner would actually have most of the features i was most dysphoric about was a total shift in perspective for me
whether that type of mental shift can lessen your dysphoria to a point where you'll never need T as a dysphoric butch, i'm still kinda figuring that out myself. i was in that "i've done my research and i've seen friends go through the process but i'm being a pussy" stage when i had my b4b epiphany and that brought my dysphoria down to manageable levels (this was years ago now) so i never went on T, but i still think T might be in my future – even if i've cut down my dysphoria by like 70% that remaining 30% can really chafe sometimes depending on the day
but if the question is "is it possible to get to a good place just by focusing on all the other, non-medical aspects of transition" yeah absolutely. like you really can change your appearance completely it's kinda crazy. many ppl don't realize just how much of the average cis guy's masculinity – which can seem so inherent – is actually just clothes and hair. even just getting your hair cut by someone who will give you an actual men's cut instead of the girl version of that style can totally change how you look because it just frames your face and neck so differently (speaking from experience)
that being said i don't think you should ever withhold HRT from yourself if you have access to it and think it might help you. just that it's possible to have a good life even if that's not an option for you, at least in my case it has very much been possible
edit: love all the ppl chiming in with their positive experiences being on T, however i was kind of trying to make this a positivity post for the transmascs out there who are not on hormones rn (like me) so if we could refrain from using wording that paints that life as being incomplete or lesser-than somehow that'd be great, thanks everybody🤘
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2000sangel · 1 year ago
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oh I have a request what is you do a story about reader x Adam where she is seen like a swan 🦢 beautiful, elegant, and graceful while Adam is Adam and both are together and everybody is like seriously what does she see in him? And she’s like “he makes me laugh 🥰” then shows Adam stuff his face all in a messy manner and looking goofy while reader looks at him with love
This request was so cute! Thank you for dropping it in my inbox, hope I did it justice :3
Divider : benkeibear
Adam x Graceful! Fem! Reader
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Your high heels made a clacking sound as you walked across the street; your flowy dress made many heads turn, just for Angels to be stunned by your beauty once they saw you.
Saying you weren’t used to this would be a lie, as every day many individuals would comment on your beauty and grace; you were quite modest about it though, always thanking them but never bragging about all the attention that you received.
This wasn’t what your day was going to be about though; in fact, Adam was.
You were going on a date with your boyfriend, and you were thrilled about it; you two hadn’t been able to go out for a while, since he was quite busy with shows and whatnot during that time of the year.
You always tried to be there for his gigs, but usually he was busy with band outings afterwards or he was too beat – and quite sweaty, too – to go out for a romantic date with you.
And when he wasn’t busy with gigs, he was too caught up in more confidential matters with Sera. Things regarding Hell, you guessed.  So naturally you allowed him to have some chiller dates with you in the weekend, prioritizing his desires a bit.
But this time you two had planned a whole day out together, with the first stop being a restaurant to eat some lunch.
Finally reaching your destination, you stopped in your tracks and fixed your hair to look as pretty as you could for your boyfriend. Not that he would notice if you had a hair out of place, he always called you stunning even when you were in your nightwear and you had just woken up, but you still wanted to look your best for your special day.
You checked your phone, and saw a message from him that said he was going to fly there to get there faster. You were about to reply when you heard a strong flap of wings from above you.
“Hey babe!” he descended from the sky, snaking an arm around your figure and kissing the top of your head. He was wearing his mask, as always when he was in public, but you really didn’t mind.
“Hey Adam! We arrived at the same time,” you pointed out as he tucked his wings under his arms. You noticed he was wearing his usual robe, but as the wind blew it around a little you could see his spiked combat boots underneath.
“We did, wanna go in?”
“Sure!”
You chatted about this and that as you entered the fancy restaurant, the carefully designed decor catching your eye immediately. He even had to ask you if you were listening as you got caught up staring at the luxurious furnishings.
A waiter welcomed you and lead you to your booked table near a window overlooking a beautiful garden, you could touch the bush of white roses outside if you leaned out a little, if you wanted.
You didn’t need much time to choose your orders; both of you decided to go with your favorite food as a treat, Adam’s being ribs, and as soon as the dishes arrived you dug in. You made a mental note to leave a positive review to the restaurant as even the food tasted heavenly.
“Holy shit, these ribs go hard as fuck! Want one?” Adam asked between bites, picking one up with his free hand and handing it to you. You grabbed it helping yourself with your cutlery, and chuckled at your boyfriend’s behaviour.
You were just about to take a bite out of the rib when you heard something that you probably shouldn’t have;
“...I wonder what she sees in him?”
You turned around swiftly and caught the two Angels commenting on your relationship red handed; one of them had the appearance of a sheep, fur pristine and styled into ringlets, the other resembled a cat.
They immediately averted their gaze when yours fell on them, but you still shifted so you could face them better.
“Well, he makes me happy and makes me laugh. Isn’t that enough?” you stated with a kind smile, no malice in your words, and pointed at Adam with your fork. The two girls grimaced as they looked at your boyfriend, hands dirty and mouth stuffed with ribs; he was enjoying his lunch so much that he hadn’t even noticed the food had left a stain on the sleeve of his robe.
“Suit yourself...” the sheep Angel commented once again, and it was Adam’s turn to reply.
“You’re damn lucky I’m busy eating ribs and being on a date with my girlfriend. Do you even know who the fuck you’re talking to?”
“The first man, Adam.” You finished his sentence fondly.
The Angels shivered; you’d dare say you never witnessed anyone leave a place faster than they did that restaurant.
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eringobragh420 · 7 months ago
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➔ Pairing — Gunther ❤︎ f!Reader ➔ Summary — Gunther and his longtime friend finally make their fantasies a reality. ➔ Word Count — 3.2k ➔ Warnings — NSFW. Wall sex, semi-public, dirty talk, fingering, super minor blood, cum 18+ ➔ Notes — Dedicated to the Gunther lovers, especially the ones who go into this not liking him and come out wondering wtf they were thinking 🤷‍♀️ ➔ Taglist — If you’d like to be added, please click here! ➔ Requested By — @eboni-napalm Thank you so much for your patience and your awesome idea! Happy Birthday! ➔ Support — Buy me a coffee! ☕ ➔ MASTERLIST
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She watched on one of many TVs backstage as Damian Priest defended his title against Gunther. Some days she couldn’t believe she and Gunther were in WWE at all, on the main roster no less, but then she saw him in the ring, and she saw exactly what everybody else saw: a superstar. Of course, she’d known how special he was for years beforehand, having come up with him in NXT UK, so it was really no surprise to see him in a match competing for the World Heavyweight Championship. And her idolization had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she may or may not have had a crush on the man since the very first moment she’d laid eyes on him. It didn’t. Really.
The two gigantic men in the ring, each going pound for pound, exchanged chops, and she couldn’t avoid even the tiniest reaction every time Gunther was on the receiving end. These men, at least some of them, had to be masochists. She was a wrestler, yes, and there was hardly ever a contest that was pain-free, but she never went into it wanting to be hurt. When these men were chopped or suplexed or Pedigree’d, she swore she saw their eyes dazzle, some of them even smiled or laughed. And was she really thinking about whether or not Gunther was a fan of pain while standing amongst dozens of other people watching the same match?
She gasped along with everyone else when Priest rolled Gunther onto his back—I could just ride him right there … I bet he’d forget about losing—and laid over him for the pin. A collective hush fell over the group, however, upon witnessing Finn Bálor’s betrayal, which consequently kept Gunther in the match. Her body was absolutely thrumming during the next sequence, watching with rounded eyes as Priest tried twice to get at Finn before Gunther locked in the chokehold. She was the loudest one cheering when the Ring General was declared the winner, and the new World Heavyweight Champion. Smirking, she shook her head as Gunther snatched the golden title from the ref and held it in the air, and she could tell he was emotional, but he did well hiding it, playing the perfect heel to the perfect end to a kind of perfect night—at least for her, she hadn’t much interest in the Cody versus Solo match. 
She started to say goodbye to those around her, hugging a few, intricate handshakes with others, well wishes to everyone. She gathered her purse and suitcase-on-wheels, turned, and made it only a few steps before pausing. Gunther was exiting Gorilla position, blue Ring General jacket on—he really needs to wear the blue more often—gilded title adorning his waist, and he was headed right for her. How the hell long had it taken her to say goodbye? She looked behind her to see who he might actually be targeting, but everyone had dispersed. When she turned back around, Gunther was only a few feet from her, his eyes rising and falling over her thin tank top, pleated skirt, and Nike sneakers, and her brain was inundated with every memory she had of the Austrian, like she was dying and her entire life was flashing before her eyes. The crush she may or may not have had blossomed within her, growing somehow from the deep, dark, secret place she’d buried it long ago. Entombing these inappropriate and, she assumed, unrequited, feelings for a coworker had allowed her to function like a normal human, and not a lovesick schoolgirl.
“What do you think?” he asked, or shouted, slapping the title against his abs, and she almost, almost, averted her gaze to look, but she caught herself at the very last second. She focused on the blood spatter on his cheek and jaw.
Blood?
There was a sizzling in the ether, a hum almost, like the sound of current zooming through a power line, and she felt it in her very core. She could smell him now, the closer he came, and his scent had to be pheromonal, because her panties were suddenly soaked and her legs felt heavy. Her arms and hands were numb, so it was quite confusing for her to watch her arm rise of its own volition, hand reaching for Gunther, and she screamed for him to move or slap her hand away, but no sound came out and her lips never moved. Her hand kept lifting until it came in contact with a spot of blood on his chiseled jawline, and now she had sensation in her fingertips, but still no control.
“Are you okay?” she asked, absolutely no recollection of planning to say anything at all.
“You’re worried about me,” he said loudly, grinning, boasting his sexy accent. Those goddamn dimples sank into his cheeks, and his smile, even when he was being evil on the microphone, was genuine and happy, and wait just a damn minute …
Her lips pursed. “Congratulations,” she deadpanned, finally in control of her hand, which she pulled from his face. She glanced at the vermillion liquid on her thumb before idly smearing it on her light-colored tank top, treating it like any other unwanted substance. She looked back up at him, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now a blazing inferno and zeroed in on the stain on her shirt just below her breasts. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
She spun on her heels, twirled her suitcase on its wheels, and she started off in the opposite direction. He might have been just teasing, and that was the most likely scenario, but that didn’t make her feel any less embarrassed. She’d shown genuine concern for him, and he’d cracked a joke about her being worried? It didn’t matter that he was correct—he didn’t have to be a dick about it. 
Unfortunately for her, she had no idea where the exit was in this direction, and she couldn’t very well ask someone while on her angry walk-away, so she stuck her chin in the air and continued on, confidently taking a turn down the next hallway. Her pace slowed then. This concourse was dark save for the light from the corridor that T’d at the end. And she didn’t see an exit sign. 
“Shit,” she whispered. 
A barely audible thud sounded behind her, and she spun around, releasing the handle of her suitcase, instantly hoping for an employee or maybe someone who was also lost. He was mostly a silhouette, but she knew exactly who it was—she was familiar with his size and the haircut and even his squared shoulders under the Ring General jacket—but for a new reason. His scent. It was the sour aroma of sweat, the copper tinge of blood, and tiny remnants of whatever body wash he’d used recently. She inhaled as much as she could, inflating her lungs until they nearly burst, packing them full of her new favorite flavor, and she felt a little dizzy. The man was a goddamn vape pen.
She attempted to recover, “I think I made a wrong—” 
Gunther wrapped a long, strong arm around her middle and lifted her in the air with maybe a little too much vigor—she saw the top of his head for the first time in real life before gravity snatched her and yanked her back to earth. Gunther’s arm tightened around her, halting her progress, crushing their chests together, and she intuitively wrapped her legs around his waist. She felt the outline of the World Heavyweight Championship title belt between her legs and underneath the surprisingly soft fabric of the blue jacket. She clutched at the lapels to steady herself upon landing back in his arm—because it had been so fucking easy for him to nearly launch her into space and catch her with only one damn arm.
Their eyes met, and their noses were brushing, and they were passing oxygen back and forth between them. She’d never been this close to him before, not like this, and his scent was much stronger now. Fuck, she’d waited so long for this, but here? Now? His body was firm, muscles dense, and for some reason, this Austrian Adonis was wholly enchanted by her. So yes—here. Now.
“Gunther—” she whispered, having no idea where this sentence would end up.
“You didn’t answer me,” he cut her off. She blinked at him. “I asked you what you think.” Sometimes his THs came out as Fs and it was the most endearing quirk in the world. He nodded at the title, nestled in the comforting embrace of his jacket and her thighs, and they both cast their eyes downward. She swallowed, looking at her skirt, remembered she was wearing a skirt, and also the opulent title that was only a few inches from an aching, soaking pussy.
“I’m happy for you,” she whispered, hands still fisted in his jacket.
“No,” he growled, kicking her suitcase out of his way with a blue boot. Her grip tightened and her thighs clenched as he pressed her against the nearest wall, his free hand cupping the back of her head as a shield. “I’m only gonna ask you … one more time,” he said, his eyes burning a hole through her very soul, and his hand came out from behind her to hold his finger up. “You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he tilted his head. She gulped down absolutely nothing, and the hallway was so quiet that the action was actually audible. “So no lying,” he advised, eyebrows lifting. His face closed the space between them, and she couldn’t regulate her breathing as it came out in hot puffs of desperation. “What … do you think?”
Boy, was she done thinking. “Well …” she trailed off, fingers releasing the lapels of his jacket so she could flatten her palms on his chest. She licked her lips, massaging the hard planes of his pecs, and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. His eyes darted down to watch. “I think you look like a fucking champion,” she murmured. If he wanted to play a game … let’s play a game. Her thighs tightened as she locked her ankles behind him, spine straightening. Her hand slithered up his neck to his incredible jaw where she gently clutched his chin between her forefinger and thumb so she could turn his face slightly away from her, freeing the route to his ear. Smirking, she pressed her lips to his lobe, and his arm still around her middle tensed. “And I think you look like a champion I’d like to fuck,” she purred, punctuating her statement by biting the lobe and sucking it into her searing mouth.
Gunther leaned back, stealing his ear from her, and he then pressed their foreheads together. “Yeah?” he taunted. She nodded, their noses grazing. “You wanna fuck the champion?”
“For so long,” she sighed, practically clawing at the jacket. She glanced down, their faces mashed together, a memory slapping her in the brain. She opened the garment and raked her nails down his bare chest, over the marks of Damian’s chops, and it wasn’t the hardest she could go, but his groan was primal, and she knew the pressure was just right. “You should know,” she went on, “if you’ve been watching me like you say you have.”
“Oh, I’ve been watching,” Gunther assured her. His hands were under her arms and he pressed her into the wall, locking eyes with her before he released his grip on her. She kept her shoulder blades and arms flat against the wall, back straight, legs nice and tight around Gunther’s waist, and she was perfectly stable without his assistance. He leaned back, and this new position presented him with the chance to leer at her, gaze inspecting every inch of her, and he leisurely began to lift her shirt. His brows rose and his mouth opened when he came to a barely-there built-in bra. “Look at you,” he said. “You don’t even bother, do you?” 
She regarded him with a wicked smirk, half his face a shadow, and she couldn’t fight the urge to roll her hips against him. The title didn’t feel particularly good when pressed to her pussy, but the thought of humping it, covering it with her juices, was something she never thought would turn her on. “Maybe I hoped you would be looking,” she whispered. He slid the bra, which was basically just thin fabric and elastic, torturously slowly up over her breasts where it stayed, and his eyes met hers once more.
“This is what you want?” he asked, though it sounded more like a statement. She nodded, lost in his murky eyes. “Say it,” he commanded, and there was no mistaking that tone.
She gripped his shoulders and pulled herself against him, her newly exposed nipples making contact with his jacket and his smooth chest. “I want you to fuck me, Gunther,” she told him, lips massaging his thin ones. Her eyes passed back and forth between his, and she knew he needed something else, just a little bit more. “Think you can handle that?”
He smashed her between himself and the wall, his lips finally covering hers, and the desperate moans from both their throats would have been embarrassing for them had anyone else heard them. Her hand on the back of his shaved head was an interesting level of eroticism, and he must have agreed, if his tongue in her mouth was any indication. She felt him unstrap the belt, and he returned one arm around her so he could lift her off the front of it, then he dropped it to the floor. Never once did his lips leave hers or even stop moving.
He repositioned her lower on his body this time, throwing his jacket around her legs, and she gasped, grip sliding from his shoulders back to the lapels as he ground his impressive manhood on her soaking panties. His hand slithered along her thigh, finger dipping under the side of the garment, which he then lifted away from her throbbing pussy. Her eyes were slits as his thumb slid along her dripping folds, relentlessly teasing her before it finally sank within and began massaging the slippery nub. His straining cock was still pressed against her, and if he didn’t fuck her now, she knew for sure they’d be caught. People were still passing by the end of the hallway they’d come from. Had anyone seen them enter? Had anyone seen them not leave?
“Please,” she whispered, not sure how long she would survive without his cock inside her.
“That’s what I wanna hear,” he mumbled, sucking one of her nipples into his mouth. Her back arched and she slammed her hips into his thumb. “You wanna fuck the champion, you have to beg the champion.”
“Please,” she repeated, and somewhere along the way she’d lost the upper hand. Or … had she ever really had it?
“Please what?” he pressed. “Hmm?” He was on her neck now, all teeth and tongue and lips, and her eyes rolled back. 
“Please fuck me,” she begged, hand cradling his neck. “Please?”
“Fuck,” Gunther whispered. 
There was brief movement, and suddenly, the thick head of his dick poked at her hole, and she cried out. Gunther was quick to cover her mouth with his hand, holding it there as his other hand gripped her hip, supporting her weight and sinking her down onto his cock. She continued to squeal, muffled by his hand, until he was buried to the hilt inside her, and then she was breathing in and out quickly through her nostrils. She rolled her hips, sucking him deeper, and she groaned this time. As he started to slowly fuck her, she reached up to squeeze his meaty forearm, opposite hand fisting in his jacket again. He picked up speed, rocking her body up and down on the wall, and she couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Was she dreaming? That’d be cruel.
“You’re taking me so well,” Gunther praised, and she whined, squirming in his embrace. “This pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” 
She nodded, a stifled yes caged in her throat. She wouldn't argue the point even if she could. Her pussy was full, fuller than it ever had been, wetter, and she felt her orgasm building, but that couldn’t be right because no man had ever made her cum simply by penetration alone. Her entire being was vibrating with the quickness of Gunther’s pumps, still grasping his forearm and jacket, holding on for dear life and that ever elusive orgasm-that-she-wasn’t-responsible-for.
“You’re perfect,” he mumbled into her ear. She almost wilted in his possession, but if her body slacked even a little bit, Gunther’s cock would never again find that spot inside her. 
“Please,” she begged. “Please … I’m gonna cum.”
“All over my cock, dirty girl,” he panted. Had someone else called her a dirty girl, she might have laughed at them, but with Gunther’s accent and his tone and just the fucking breathlessness loaded her orgasm from 28% to 99%. “So your pussy will get even tighter,” he went on, “so you can make the champion cum.”
She screamed, a literal scream, and Gunther squeezed her mouth. She did exactly as she was told, clenching around his dick as she came for the first time by a dick, body shuddering while she rode the waves of ecstasy. She was able to experience most of it before Gunther grunted, pulling out with a nasty pop, and he set her carefully back on her feet.
“Down on your knees, dirty girl,” he said, his hand lifting from her mouth. 
She licked her lips, tasting him, and she slowly descended to her knees, which she had to spread to avoid putting any weight on the belt Gunther had discarded earlier, hands sliding down his chest and abs as she went. He jerked his glistening cock over her face, leering at her, and she grasped his thighs. Every instinct told her to stick her tongue out, and what kind of human would she be if she didn’t follow her instincts? He placed his hand on the top of her head seconds before he launched cum on her tongue and across her face, rope after rope, and it was salty and warm and her new new favorite flavor. She couldn’t read the expression on his face anymore as he used his thumb to slide all the cum from her skin into her mouth. She happily accepted all of it, sucking his thumb and cock clean for good measure. When he finished, he tucked himself back into his trunks and held his hand out. She almost placed her hand in it. Almost. At the last second, she reached between her knees for the belt and held it up for him. His chest puffed out as he accepted it from her, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding when he held his other hand out for her.
“We should do that again,” Gunther said.
She grinned, her cheeks getting hot, and she pulled her top back down. “Call me when you win another championship,” she winked.
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heartbreakgrill · 4 months ago
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Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 9; "Never seen that color blue."
“No, yeah, of course! Noo…no! Thank you! I seriously appreciate all of your help and understanding during this! I hope you have a wonderful day! Yeah, aw, thanks! You, too! Yeah- okay- bye!”
My faux smile dropped as soon as my hand did, phone falling to a silenced settle on my left thigh. I breathed a shallow breath of somehow anxious relief, so ironic that it made me want to scream.
Max reached across the bed and rubbed my knee comfortingly, “You okay?”
I wanted to snort, yell, kick my feet, and laugh hysterically. Throw a temper tantrum, wish on a star, kiss a fucking frog. Fall on my knees, beg the skies. Change fate's cruel course of time.
But my expression was blank as I shrugged, “What can ya do?”
The corner of his lips lifted into the saddest smile. His thumb brushed my skin, “It’s gonna be alright. Once you settle back in, things will start to feel normal. You can start…moving on. And, hey, I’m visiting in just a month. You have that to look forward to. School starting, your new role at the clinic. So many good things, Daz.”
He was right- I had so much to be excited about. I really should’ve felt excited, grateful. A better woman would have. A better woman would have seen the blessings all around her and felt so full of life and love. God, she would’ve respected herself enough to not be in this situation in the first place.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel resentful, knowing that I would trade all of it for-
for him.
For Oliver.
I would give up everything for just another moment, hanging onto his lips like a vine. Just a second of growth, even if being ripped away meant digging up the roots and my leaves dying.
I just gave Max that fake smile, knowing full well he was aware that it meant nothing. “You’re right. It’ll be good for me to be home.”
He squeezed my knee before removing his hand. “You wanna finish packing? Or maybe take a break? Get some food?”
I glanced around at the mess of clothes across Sam and I’s hotel room. My bags lay open, a few piles of my stuff already stuffed inside. But there was more than half to be done. So much to be done before I went…before I went home tomorrow.
Tomorrow. Less than 12 hours from now. I’d be heading back to reality. Closing the doors on Europe, on everything and everybody I’d be leaving here.
There was just one week left on the European leg of the two. Tomorrow morning, everyone will be leaving for Germany. I’d go to the airport with them, like normal, but depart at a separate gate, at the same exact time. Those who needed to know, well, I was going to tell them. And those who needed to know the reason why would, too. Sam was going to think I was going home because of an offer for a higher position from the clinic I worked at. But this was only partially true. Training for that wouldn’t even start for another 3 weeks. School wasn’t for a month.
I was leaving for me- for clarity, fresh air. Oliver was right- London was foggy, full of pollution and shitty, selfish men.
I needed to get away, out. Back to routine and home. Back to what I knew- what wouldn’t hurt me.
I looked back to Max, “I'm gonna finish packing. Get it over with. Before Sam gets back. I think it might hurt his feelings to walk in and see this…mess.”
Mess might have held a double meaning. I had looked better, for sure. Max understood, I think, for he knocked his shoulder against mine, then stood from the bed. “We got it, Daz.”
I stood up quickly, knowing the only way to get started was to just start. Stand. Move. (I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.)
It took us another hour or so to finish stuffing my belongings into their bags. I had bought maybe one too many souvenirs, so we struggled to find a place for everything. When we were done, I slew myself across the end of the bed, breathing heavily, sweating a little bit.
Max groaned from the floor, “Why do you own so many things?!”
“Dude, I don’t even know. It’s gonna take me 12 years to unpack!”
He chortled, half-heartedly, patting his stomach as an afterthought. “I am soooo hungry. What do you wanna eat?”
I sat up as he did so, shrugging a bit, “You pick. I don’t have the energy for all that.”
“I’m good with the hotel restaurant if you are.”
“Fuck it.”
So, we sludged our way downstairs. I hadn’t been leaving my room much, worried you-know-who would cross my path and shake things up again. Though, I doubted he was looking for me. He hadn’t so much as texted me since last week. Oliver was probably sulking, convincing himself that he was the victim in this whole thing. The thought made my blood rush a little bit. I clenched my fist as the elevator doors closed, trying to focus on breathing and not screaming.
The past three had been probably one of the worst of my life. I was so…so sad. So angry. Confused. Nothing made sense, yet all of my fears had come true. It was like I knew all the answers, but my bones felt so put off by how they manifested themselves. Like, what do you mean the cold, dark, distant boy turned out to be a cheating, manipulative liar? Right on the money.
My rational mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that it still felt so…disappointing? Wrong? Fucked the fucking fuck up.
The doors slid open. I followed, quietly, behind Max as we headed for the inlet to the left of the front counter. This was a usual part of my new found routine, grabbing food with Max. Albeit, sneakily, with numerous texts between the two of us (me, badgering him) ensuring nobody else (Oliver) was down here. In avoiding him, I had been avoiding everybody else, too.
I could already see their knowing looks. Sam could read me like a book. Ronnie was way psychic and usually felt the vibe of a situation long before it occurred. Adam, obviously, already was aware. And I'm sure he would have relayed the information to Cyrus.
I was exuding this aura of heartbroken, school-girl-fantasy-crushed, sad-puppy shit. I felt tired, and I’m sure my eyes looked it, too. Any passerby probably could have read my emotions pretty well. No matter, I’d be out of here soon. Back home. I could heal, rest, relax, find somebody else to fuck and get the fuck over this dumb ass white boy.
My dumb ass white boy. I’d tried not to think about him, so deeply sunk into this angry feeling that I couldn’t even fathom the idea of missing what had hurt me. Alas, every once and a while (between every other curse I thought of) something would flash through my mind. A distant memory, an image of his deep-ocean blue eyes shining with flames from the rooftop firepit, triggered by a breath, a catch of the wind, a sink in my heart. I’d feel a little moth flicker in my chest. An air bubble, taut in my stomach, would have me hiccuping from gushing tears in an instant.
I think it was the deep blue suede of the hotel bar’s stools that did it this time. I brushed a hand, slowly, watching the color shift from the movement of the fabric. The lighter color reminded me of a time he felt the way I did right now. Sadness. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to him, maybe his depravity was not comforted by me. But that moment, when I held him, when he nuzzled his head into my neck and began crying-
“Wanna drink?” Max rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back from where I was trudging through fleeting, erasing moments.
I ceased my body from flinching, willed away the wetness in my eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get a drink.”
Which was a mistake.
One drink turned to appetizers turned to three drinks turned to main courses, 5 drinks, 2 shots, and dessert. Before I knew it, Max and I were cackling over some typo on some Twitter post. I gripped his shirt sleeve and hoped I wouldn’t slide off the bar stool. For the first time in a week, I wasn’t concerning myself with the logistics of sticking around in this public area as long as we had been. I wasn’t even thinking of Oliver. In fact, Max and I were discussing some of our favorite shitposts about American politics. My mind was far away from dumb Brits and idiotic Europeans.
Of course, the world had a very funny way of spitting in my face.
Adam, Cyrus, and- low and behold- Oliver came strolling into the bar right when Max and I finished ordering another drink. I felt a little sick, watching as they neared us. Oliver wasn’t paying attention. He never did. His head, sunken into his hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets. He moved like the Grim Reaper. I wondered if he had come to take my soul away.
Adam and Cyrus seemed…on edge. They noticed Max and I only after they’d made it halfway across the room. Adam hesitated on his next step, catching my eye, worriedly glancing between me and Oliver.
Max was aware, at this point. He cut himself off mid sentence, swiping a hand across his lips. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “Daisy…let’s go.”
His fingers brushed through mine in a desperate grasp to pull me along with him, towards the door. I was drunk. I was not thinking. I was hysterical, sad, heartbroken, angry. I tugged my hand away, instead flipping into the air to wave and cheerfully catch the group’s full attention.
��Cy! Adam!” I couldn’t quite catch his name on my tongue. I thought I might puke. “Hey, girl!”
Oliver looked up at the sound of voice. He stopped, but three feet from our little round table. The light, dim from the overhead lamps and LED strips behind the counter, caught the round pupils in his eyes. I watched as he blinked once, twice. Blue.
“Oliver!” There it was.
He met my eye. The corners of his lids wilted, like the petals of a flower, aged, saddened. Drops of rain dropping them in weight. Max looked between the two of us. Cyrus busied himself with buying a drink. Adam slouched in the awkward, pregnant air. Oliver ignored me, moved around our group to sit as far away as possible.
I clenched my jaw. Rage. Utter, pure anger. How dare he deny me even now? The fact that he had not come to my door in the past few days, on his knees, begging for my forgiveness- I was seething. And, now, he goes back to his old tricks. Pretending like I don’t exist.
I turned to Max, who was bracing for impact. His hands were wary, held up near me as if to catch my fall. I shrugged, smiled cheekily, wrinkled my nose. I bumped Adam’s shoulder with mine and declared, “Shots on me?”
He continued his smug slump in the bar stool for the next hour. Adam, Cyrus, Max, and I hung like the old pals we were, cracking jokes, swapping stories like we were surrounding a campfire. I glanced at Oliver every once in a while, hoping to accidentally make eye contact like we used to. He stared down at his phone or his glass. I was surprised the device worked considering he’d fucking forgotten my contact existed or something.
Ugh.
What a fucking ass hole.
Adam asked me a question, pulling my attention back in. “Are you excited for Germany?”
Oh. I’d almost forgotten all about this little plot. I knew that if I spoke loud enough, Oliver would hear. He’d react. I could almost hear it, the little hitch in his breath. The tickle in his throat. The flit of his tongue across his lips, the patter of his holey heart.
I felt my own chest jitter with the excitement, the want of a reaction I needed from him. The shock. The idea that I would be an ocean away from him. No longer at an arm’s length.
I turned towards Adam and rested my chin on my fist. I frowned, almost playfully, “Ugh, I hate having to tell you guys like this!”
Cyrus slowly lowered his glass from his lips, having been mid-drink, “What’s up?”
“I’m going home,” my brows furrowed in a naive look. Adam and Cyrus’ chins dropped a sliver. I pouted my lip, “Stop! I know! I’m so sad!”
I wanted to wait until the conversation was over to look down the bar, to see if even a fragment of what I was saying had affected him. But, I didn’t need to wait. Oliver had flinched. He literally flinched.
“Yeah, me, too,” Adam touched my hand. “Why so soon? I thought you were staying through August?”
“I was planning on it, but…they offered me a better position at the clinic I work at. I have to get home to start training,” I continued, a satisfied smirk teasing my mouth.
Cyrus lifted his glass, “Well, there’s nothing to be sad about, then! To your new job.”
“I’ll cheers to that,” the smirk slipped into a genuine smile. I really would miss these guys, but my drunken, stupid mind wasn’t thinking about that. I wanted more from Oliver. I wanted a white flag or a look or a…fuck, I wanted him.
I pushed, “I’ll really miss you guys. Max, with your corny-ass pick-up lines, Adam’s mom vibes, Cy’s ability to knock back more drinks than fucking- I don’t know, Spider-man, and not get drunk? Shit’s insane.”
I drank in the laughter for a moment, eyes lingering down the bar to Oliver. Then, I added a name to my list and narrowed my gaze, “Oliver,” he wouldn’t look. “With your need to ignore me in every room we’re in. I’ll really miss your cold fucking shoulder.”
Any laughter that may have hung onto our past moment faded. I heard Max take a sharp breath in through his teeth. Adam pressed his lips together. Cyrus looked over his shoulder at their friend. I didn’t know if he really knew, but he had to understand just a little bit. The vibes were always there. We thought we were sneaky, but we were so sickly up each other’s asses. We’d even run into Cyrus and Adam in the hallway that one time. I guess we were all really good at being hopefully fucking stupid and blind.
I leaned on my palm and stared that man down. I watched as he kept his chin, pointed ahead, like he was playing brave in the situation. His Adam's apple bobbed. Oliver clutched his glass, swung it back, slugged the liquid down. Slammed it back on the counter. Then, he stood up, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and threw a wad of bills onto the bar. He adjusted his hoodie and left.
I was dizzy. I stuttered back a step. Max touched my wrist, murmuring something or the other about heading back upstairs. Telling me I was too drunk.
I felt slow, felt dizzy, felt scared, felt angry, felt sad. I felt so sad. I felt so angry and so sad and…
And, my eyebrows furrowed in anger, the shock erasing itself from my frame. I took a deep, drunken breath and followed his trail. Fast. Legs pumping, arms swinging at my sides.
He was at the elevator, looking down at his shoes. I couldn’t get his name out. I think if I did the tears were going to fall out, The sobs were going to ricochet through my whole body and knock me over and kill me and I’d die and I’d never get to see that dumb asses blue eyes any more. Ever again. I wanted to see his blue eyes again. I wanted him to look at me and see me for what he sees me as. I wanted him to touch my hip and wring my neck and tell me I was the only one he wanted. I’d take it. One more time, then he could go back to her. I just wanted a goodbye.
He was stepping into the elevator. The doors were closing. I jammed a hand between and he flinched, again.
I stepped in just as the doors began to shut again. His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. He was frozen. Frowning. He looked…sad.
I almost reached a hand out, almost caressed his cheek and pulled him into me. But, I didn’t. Instead, I said (yelled?), “What the fuck is your problem?”
He stammered, “Wha-what?”
I struggled to repeat myself. I needed to cry. It was going to open. But, for another moment, the anger took over, “You fucking heard me. What is your problem, Oliver? What the fuck did I do to deserve this kind of shit? I don’t wanna hear more sad excuses about your fucking mental health and your-your fucking anxiety. God, I- I fucking…I don’t even k- you fucking ignored me back there! I looked right at you and I said your name and I smiled at you and…I’ve been so nice to you. I’ve been nice to you all summer and you treat me like a piece of fucking shit. God, I’ve…I’ve told you so much. I told you about my mom and…and you laid there and you told me all this bullshit about how much you liked me! And then you…youre a fucking-”
I cut myself off, out of breath. I was sweating a little bit. I think I had spit a few times. And I paced the elevator so much that I was flush against the wall. I leaned my shoulders back against the cool metal, wringing my hands, tugging at my hair.
He didn’t say anything. I breathed, hard, I thought, long. I kept thinking, and I kept getting angrier. I turned back to him, rearing up again. I had more to say, I just, I just needed to get some more concise- more thoughtful thoughts, right, exactly. Yes. I can…
“And who the fuck is F-”
“Daisy.”
There it was, my name. It was my name, soft and angelic, and holy. And a moment on his lips that he carved out of time and held a space for, for me to hear.
I stopped. I felt nothing for a moment. I looked at him and he was already waiting to see my eyes. My bottom lip wobbled.
“You’re obviously upset. And, drunk. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning? We can both get some rest.” He was always so good at two very distinct things: pushing stuff (people) aside and speaking to me in a way that felt like a cloud was wrapping itself around me. Like the cloud wanted me to lay in its arm and would coo me to sleep. Like I was safe and loved and-
Loved.
He made me feel loved.
I straightened up a bit at the thought. I pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Who the fuck is Fiona? What the fuck was that all about? Oliver, I’m not going to stand here and beg for you to love me. Or beg for you to come back to me. I just want a goddamn apology. For wasting my time, for playing with my fucking heart. For stringing me along. You knew-”
The tears came. Perfect timing. “You fucking know that I love you. You have known for a very long time. And you are an idiotic fool if you still don’t believe it. But I am not going to play this game with you. I told you that already and now I seriously mean it. I broke my back this summer to make sure that I was who you wanted me to be. So I was cool and chill and could take as much space as you wanted me to. I went with everything you asked of me, I was there when you needed a warm body. I comforted you and…and tried to fucking fix you like I knew you wanted me to. But, I am done. I am done with this. I am done-”
My voice cracked. I swiped an angry, shaking hand across my face. Vision blurred. “I am done with you. This is ridiculous. I don’t know if you meant to, but you have manipulated this situation so that you have been the one benefiting. I’m tired of letting you think you’re some broken, sad puppy dog on the side of the road that needs to be taken care of. Grow the fuck up. And, now I find out that there’s some other woman? That I- I’m the other woman, maybe? That you’re cheating on her with me? That I’m your fucking slut? Side hoe?”
I had paced again, this time, towards him. He was taller than me, but my anger was making me taller. He was almost…cowering. I pointed my finger again, nearly chest to chest with him.
“Fuck you, Oliver. Fuck you and fuck London and fuck your stupid fucking music.”
The doors opened, on our floor. I walked out, but turned to face him before he was really gone from me. I wanted to see his eyes one last time.
He was crying. I popped an arm into the door again, buying myself more time to kick him while he was down. I thought this would bring me closure. I thought I’d feel better if he knew, truly knew, the entirety. Every thought. Every hurt I felt.
“You asked me at the beginning of the summer what I was searching for. I thought that it was you. And I thought that I had found you.”
I shook my head sadly. The doorbell on the elevator rang. I stepped back, “I was right. There is no deeper meaning. Goodbye, Oliver.”
I stood there for a second, as though I could still see his blue eyes, boring through the metal doors.
Then, I sludged my way to my hotel room. I opened the door, shoulders slumped, body aching. I knew my makeup was smeared all over my face. My hair was wrecked. I couldn’t stop sniffling or whimpering. I walked into the room.
Sam sat up in his bed. Ronnie was beside him. I barely made it two more steps before Sam caught me in his arms.
The sky was gray. The weather in Europe usually was, especially up here on this side of the continent. I wasn’t surprised when, on our drive to the airport, it started spitting rain. I shivered underneath the cover of my hoodie, yet walked slowly through the entrance.
I remember when I had first dropped down in London, wide-eyed, hopeful. I think it had been raining then, too. But, I hadn’t cared. Come to think of it, it was raining pretty much everyday we had been in London.
Oliver was right about a couple things.
Back then, just three months ago, I hadn’t cared about the sun’s shadow curving from behind the clouds, nor did I mind that it was usually quite chilly outside. Now, I felt anger, annoyance at the weather, at the people, at the world.
At him. The stupid weight of my suitcase. The drag in my step. The wetness of my clothes and the chill of the wind.
I felt older, in the worst way. I was a different age, considering my birthday had passed while I’d been here. But, I felt old in a way that was draining. I felt like I had wasted so much time, energy, and all I had left were weary bones and sadness. Just how much I had left, I didn’t know. But I did know that as soon as I got back home, I would be rotting in my bed for a day or two.
Sam, Max, and Ronnie came to the airport early with me. My flight time had been pulled forward by an hour, so I needed to get here sooner than I thought. I wasn’t complaining, though. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of the hotel. Out of here. Out of London.
I hurried the process of packing my last few things. Stuffed my breakfast down my throat. Impatiently waited in the taxi, knee bouncing, as Sam and Max loaded the trunk with all of our things. Ronnie slid in beside me and became the first reason that I cried that day.
She reared a look over her shoulder, out the back window, to check on Max and Sam. Then, with an awkward sigh, she turned her knees towards me, “Peaches?”
I glanced up from my lap and the bounce of my knee slowed, “Yeah?”
Upon noticing the somber gaze in her eyes, my brows furrowed. “What’s up?” I added, fully presenting her my full attention.
Ronnie rubbed her nose in a seemingly nervous manner, “I just wanted to say…um, ew. Sorry.”
I softly giggled at her disgust with whatever sentence she was trying to form. “What is it?”
She finally met my eye in a fervently forward manner, “I usually have fun on tour. But this summer was…it was extra special. Getting to know you has been…so cool. I don’t know. I just…I love you, Daisy. You’ve become like a sister to me.”
I couldn’t help but feel the tears well up in my eyes. “Oh, Ronnie,” I sniffled, hugging her around the shoulders.
She pulled me close to her and I swear I heard her sniffle a bit, too. “I’m sorry for not noticing what was happening. I should’ve been there for you more. I got caught up in my own-”
“Don’t even apologize,” I reared back with my reply, “No. It’s nobody’s fault. I’m not even blaming myself for what happened. It was a stupid, weird situation. It was my responsibility to come to you if I needed help. I just needed…I just need to go home now.”
Ronnie smiled a sad, peaceful smile. “I hope I get to see you again soon. I don’t know what I will do without your bright light.”
“Oh, you will. You guys will be in the US soon. Sam said he was gonna drop by. I am positive you’ll be there, too,” I dropped a sly wink.
Ronnie watched my face for a moment, “I mean, of course you know now. But…” she narrowed her eyes, grinning in shocked realisation, “Fucker. You knew the whole time?!”
“Of course I knew the whole time. Sam is-” I snorted, “Sam is not hiding his lovesick, puppy-dog eyes.”
Ronnie’s gaze widened slightly, “I-”
The doors of the taxi popped open as the boys joined us, Max in the back on my other side, Sam in the front. He saw our laughing, secretive expressions in the rearview mirror and turned back. “What are you two doing?”
I brushed my hands across my cheeks to clear whatever tears might’ve been rolling still, then shook my head. “Nothing, Sam-Ham.”
He turned his eyes to Ronnie and tilted his chin forward. She shrugged, a smug smile contorting her once saddened face. Ronnie dropped a wink, “Nothing at all.”
The second person to make me cry was Max. Out of everyone, he was probably my best friend at this point. We had spent so much time together, out drinking, dancing, holed up in my hotel room with trays of room service, movies on the tv. He had been there through one of the most terrifying, exhilarating, strange summers of my life. We were bonded forever, now. I could feel it.
He was helping me check in while Sam and Ronnie headed to drop off our baggage. They were all just planning on hanging for the extra hour until it was time to check in for their flight. I was grateful they all wanted to sacrifice the time for me. To them, though, I knew it was second nature.
Some people made it easy, loving me.
I shook away the thoughts because the attendant was handing me my ticket. She reiterated boarding time, twenty minutes from now, and wished me a safe flight. “Thank you,” I nodded before turning back to Max.
The tall blonde was watching me. I could tell he was on the verge of tears from just the way that his shoulders shrugged forward. It made my heart swell, knowing how much of an impact I had had on them.
He tried to straighten up as I looked him in the eye. Then, he opened his mouth to say something. I threw myself into his arms before he could. Hugging me tight, Max brushed a hand down the back of my head.
“Oh, sweet, lovely angel. I am going to miss you so.”
I didn’t need to hear anything else to start crying into his chest. Max felt the rock of my shoulders and sniffled into my hairline. “Don’t start, love. I won’t be able to stop, myself,” he chuckled shortly.
We stood like that for a few minutes, maybe more, before I stepped back. I rubbed my eyes on the inside of my sweatshirt, knowing my face was flushed and probably swelling. Max touched his fingers to my wrists and gently brushed aside my hands. He took in my visage, so delicately, and sighed. “Can I just say…”
“Oh, no!” I exclaimed through a sob. More tears fell.
Max rubbed my shoulders, “No, no, no, love. It’s okay. No more tears, okay? We’ll be okay. Just…I just want- I need to tell you how important you are. I know you’re going to go home and things are going to start to settle and you’re going to start to think so many things about yourself. You are so easy to love, Daisy. It is like breathing to me, to Ronnie, to Sam, Sasha. It is breathing. And you are worthy of it, too. That’s all. I just…I just needed to tell you, okay?”
I didn’t say anything else. I just whimpered and pulled him in closer to me.
Sam was the worst.
Since the evening before, when I had broken down in his arms and told him, through my blubbering, a short synopsis of what had happened, we hadn’t spoken much. I didn’t know if it was simply because we didn't have enough time. But, I was feeling worse because of it.
I needed my big brother more than anybody else. Sam knew me better than anybody else, even if we hadn’t been around each other as often as we used to. He still understood me. We shared the same blood, for God’s sake.
Yet, as we sat there, in the waiting area of my plane’s gate, he didn’t even look at me. He stared down at the floor, hands folded in his lap. He sat across from Ronnie, Max, and I, making it known that he wanted nothing to do with the conversation. When he first sat there, the aisle a wide gap between us, I furrowed my brows. But, then, Ronnie and Max striked up some topic that I invested myself and my attention into.
It didn’t seem like that big of a deal until they called for me. I stood up, faster than I should’ve, to be honest, and began to gather my things. Phone, bag, jacket, passport. I ran the list over in my head, three times over.
All the while, Sam slowly stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and watched his feet as he scuffed his sneakers across the carpeted floor.
I passed my eyes over him for a moment, holding my breath. Surely, my brother would have something to say to me.
He didn’t make a move.
I began walking the short distance to my gate. Before I moved to get in line, though, I turned back to my friends. Max jumped for a hug first, barely allowing me enough time to fully settle back on my heels. I dug my feet into the ground to gain traction as his ginormous body came toppling into my arms. Ronnie joined in the hug yet struggled to toss her arms over Max’s tall frame. He adjusted as we all shared a laugh and tucked her in beside me.
He called over his shoulder, voice muffled, “Get in here, Sam-Ham!”
I heard my brother elicit a laugh. It felt refreshing to hear. Then, I felt the hug grow tighter as he joined in on Max’s other side. We didn’t stay like that for long. It was stuffy and I wasn’t getting much air.
So, I tapped Max’s back and said, “Alright. Let me go.”
I gave individual hugs to everybody, voicing my own grateful, somewhat short, goodbyes.
Then, I turned to my brother. He evaded my eye contact for a moment or two. Then he pulled me in. Tight.
Out of nowhere, “I’m sorry if he ruined your summer.”
Tensing up from the words, the mention of him, I slowly pulled back from Sam’s embrace. He held onto my back, sort of cradling me. The guilt lying in his eyes was far worse than anything I’d ever seen flash across his face. My own gaze softened from the taut expression it had anxiously contorted to.
“What?” I breathily inquired, unsure if I had heard him correctly, saddened that he was obviously carrying so much hurt from my stupid mistakes. “Why? Sam, it wasn’t your fault.”
“I know, Daz, I just…” Sam’s arms fell from around me. I missed the warmth as soon as the chill of the vast room settled in around my sweatshirt. He ran a veiny hand across his forehead, “I'm supposed to be there for you. Protect you. And I already suck at the first part.”
“Sam,” I grasped his wrist, slipping his fingers between my hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s…honestly, if my summer was ruined, it was because of my own shitty decisions. Besides, you don’t suck at being there for me. I can’t believe you would even think that!”
I clasped his hand tight between mine, brows furrowed. To hear him blame himself, to hear him look this way…This whole summer, I had spent my time obsessing over somebody who didn’t even want me. I should have paid more attention to my brother, who was part of the reason I was here in the first place.
The farther I got from the start of this journey, literally and figuratively, the blurrier my original dreams became. There was no meaning to find here- only what was already there.
The thought made me lick my lips in nervous realisation.
Sam let out a frustrated, breathy chortle. “Don’t give me so much credit. I’ve been…gone. Running away from home. For so long. Worried about getting out of that apartment and town and away from…from anything that could remind me of her. Remind me of mom. I left you behind in the process.”
The wetness in my eyes began to pour over. “Oh, Sam,” my lips trembled out as I dove back into his arms. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as though an airplane would dive down and pull him away. I needed this. This kind of hug. This moment.
Clarity was nearer than ever before.
“Listen,” I pulled back, “I need you to understand, okay? My summer was not ruined. It wasn’t. This entire experience has been the most amazing, wonderful, awesome, cool time. I got to spend so much time getting to see you, getting to see your world. And, don’t ever blame yourself for getting away. You had to. I see it now- You had to come be a part of this wonderful band, go with them on all of their amazing tours. I see it on your face, Sam. This is what you’re supposed to do, okay? My mistakes are my own. Not yours.”
“I just…” Sam stared at the floor for a moment, tongue quick to go and defend his original claim But he paused and let the information process. “I…I just wish I could punch him in the face or something. What a douche. Dragging you into his mess. I should’ve known, too. The way he treated you- it was so obvious. For that, I am sorry, Daisy. I should’ve said something. Honestly,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I should beat his ass.”
Max and Ronnie, who had been trying to make it appear as though they were not eavesdropping, laughed at the last line. I opened up Sam and I’s moment by taking a step back. I gave them space to join us here. Ronnie clasped Sam’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder, “As funny as that would be, he is still your boss. And your bandmate,” she nodded to Max.
The tall blond rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep it civil.”
It was my turn to scold. I punched Max in the shoulder to gain his eye contact, “Don’t try. Just do it. He’s not a bad person. He just…sucks. A little bit.”
Talking about him, living in the truth of the situation, confronting all the dark realizations- it was a heavy weight to bear. I felt my shoulder slinking forward, as though I were Atlas with the dark, cloudy sky above me. Though I didn’t want to be rid of these three, I needed to be gone already. I needed to go before it all came crashing down again. I didn’t want anybody else to see me cry again. It was…embarrassing, to say the least.
So, I allowed one last hug from each of them and then turned towards my gate. I boarded the plane, mindlessly, going through all of the motions. Like I was used to leaving, like I was good at it. Like I was strong. But, I felt weak. I felt heavy and sad and angry and…
The city was gray. I remember it being sunny, summer-weather, though there had been a chill in the air. He always said it was. Maybe it always had been and I was…crazy. Wide-eyed. Desperate or naive or whatever.
But it was clear as day now, how dreary it looked from this airplane window. The wind whipped at the airline workers, shuffling luggage to their places, green vests billowing up. My breath fogged at the window which narrowed my pointed gaze. It seemed the plane was being pumped full of heat. I hadn’t realized it was that cold outside.
I guess fall was coming.
“Ladies and gentleman, this is your reminder to place your devices on airplane mode. We are approaching take-off,” a thick, European accent declared over the PA system.
I wrestled to retrieve my phone from my bookbag, which was squished in between my feet. When I was able to lift it towards me, the screen lit up. There was a buzz from the device that vibrated my hand then the appearance of a text message.
Oliver: Daisy, I need to tell you…
The message cut itself off, only the sneakpeek visible due to the system settings I had on my device.
It was ominous, though, like it had chosen to cut itself off there.
The tail end of that message could be- anything.
Daisy, I need to tell you…you’re a dumb bitch?
…I fucking hate you.
I love you?
Please, stay?
I don’t think I wanted to know.
My thumb hesitated over the screen, barely gracing it’s smooth glass. If I tapped on the message, if I saw what he said…would it change things?
Would it make me hate him even more?
Would it make me want to stay?
I didn’t want anything else to make my decisions anymore. I wanted to make my own choices, based on my own actions, thoughts. I was tired of living up to everybody’s image of me. If that was all I learned this summer, to be true to what I wanted, to be true to myself…then maybe this summer wasn’t so bad after all.
Maybe there had been something to find- maybe that something was me.
The shaking in my hands must’ve made the screen react to a ghost of my fingerprint. The option to scan my face ID came as soon as a flight attendant passed by my section, a bright smile on their face.
“Hi, friend! Did you put your device on airplane mode?” They asked with a slight gesture towards my phone.
I glanced back at the screen as she pointed. The message was open. That’s where it had ended, what Oliver had sent to me. “I need to tell you something.” But, he was still typing, still coming up with words to say.
My hands moved quickly, sliding down the menu and thumbing the airplane option. If he were still typing, I couldn’t see it anymore.
And any messages he may try to send would go green, undelivered, lost.
Forgotten, in the skies, somewhere between London and Germany, during the beginning of a cold, cold autumn.
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whatdoeseverybodywant · 11 months ago
Text
Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 8
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Monday Morning
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Kiyana walked into work that morning feeling like shit was going to hit the fan. Her date with Eli was… wonderful.. It took a while for her embarrassment to go away from Josh showing up and showing his ass but after getting over that they had a great time. If she was being honest, she could see herself settinging down again with him. She had a soft smile on her face as she walked over to the nurses station after checking in on a patient. 
Kiyana jumped as Debra plopped down on the chair next to her. “Spill the tea, tell me everything.” Kiyana laughed at her use of slang that she definitely learned from one of her grandchildren.  Kiyana smirked and contented to chart, laughing when Debra reached over and turned off the computer monitor. 
“Debra!.” She chortled, turning her chair to she was facing Debra who flagged her off.
“It was only the monitor, your work is good.” Debra rolled her eyes. “Spill!” Kiyana rolled her eyes aswell before telling Debra all about her and Eli’s date, minus her ex-husband showing up, she did not want to relive that, at all.  
Kiyana told Debra all about her evening with Elijah, how he took her to The Grand Marlin, how they took a nice stroll on the beach after dinner and when Kiyana told Debra that she and Elijah had gone back to his place, Debra’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 
“Wait, stop” Debra whispered, leaning in closer to Kiyana so none of the other nurses could hear what they were saying. “You guys didn’t… you know.” Kiyana bit her lip before she responded to Debra. 
“No, I mean we didn’t go all the way, if you know what I mean.” Debra’s eyes were still wide but there was now a smirk on her face. 
“Oh, I'm catching what you’re throwing.” she responded, making Kiyana laugh. “Was it good, better yet, was it better than your ex-husband?” 
“Oh my god, Debra!” Kiyana mutters as she placed her head in her hands, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.  Debra stared at Kiyana as she awaited her answer. “Oh my god” Kiyana muttered again “it was good, but no, nowhere as close.” 
“Sorry to interrupt ya’ll.” One of the new nurses Arin, spoke up as she hung up the phone. “But we have a new patient coming into room 302. EMT’s said her contractions are 8 minutes apart, but she still wants to be admitted.” Kiyana nodded and stood from her seat to go get the patient’s room ready.
“We’re not done talking Nurse Jackson.” Debra called out after her and Kiyana made a yeah-yeah motion with her hand before walking away. Just as Kiyana finished putting a new sheet on the patient’s bed, the expected mother-to-be was rolled into the room. 
“Hi, I’m Kiyana. I'll be your nurse today.” She says as she walks over and helps the patient into the bed. 
“Nice to meet you.” The patient says, wincing in pain as another contraction hits her. Kiyana offers her hand so the patient could squeeze it. “Thank you.” 
“It’s no problem.” Kiyana smiles, “I’ve been in your position four times, I know them contractions hurt. Can I get your name and date of birth?”
“Alexis Daniels.”
'What a small world, Daniels isn't really a common last name.' Kiyana thinks as she logs into the computer to chart Alexis’ vitals.
“December 15th 1989” 
“Perfect, and what is baby boy's name?” 
“Me and my husband still haven’t fully agreed on a name yet, but I like the name Carter.” 
“That is such a cute name. It was my top choice for my youngest as well, but me and my - we went with Kairo.” Kiyana said, smiling at Alexis as she chided herself in her head for almost getting too personal with the patient, not everybody needed to know she was a divorced mother. “I can still put Carter in the chart or we can just call him baby Daniels until you and your husband come up with a name.” 
“Baby Daniels, is perfect. This is our third child but first boy and he really wants to be a part of the naming decision.” Alexis breathed out as another contraction hit her, she then cursed and threw her phone down next to her. “Speaking of husband, can you do me a huge favor.?” 
Kiyana stopped typing and turned her attention to Alexis. “Sure, anything you need.” 
Alexis smiles. “My husband actually works in this hospital, he’s a surgeon on the trauma floor. Do you think you can page him for me? He’s not answering his phone.” Alexis says, holding up her phone and Kiyana felt her stomach twist at Alexis’ words. 'Just a coincidence,' Kiyana thought. 'Just because her last name is Daniels doesn’t mean shit.'
“Mmhm, keep telling yourself that.” That other voice called out, making Kiyana frown. 
“Sure, I can.” She finally responded, plastering a smile on her face. “What’s his name?” 
“Elijah Daniels.”  Kiyana digs her fingernails into her thigh to stop herself from cursing. She was hurt. She felt sick to her stomach as she thought about what she and Eli did last night. 
“Shit, you got such a pretty pussy ma’” Elijah breathed out as he used his index and middle finger to spread her lips and suck her clit into his mouth. Kiyana moaned, lifting her hand to his head before frowning when she realized there was nothing there for her to grab on to. That thought quickly leaves her head as he thrust two of his fingers in her
She felt betrayed and played. Then she started to feel sick to her stomach. ‘Oh my god,’ She thought ‘I'm no better than that woman Josh was sleeping with.’ 
“Kiyana, are you okay?” Kiyana snapped out of her flashback, her voice shaking with anger as she responded back to Alexis 
“I’m fine. I’m gonna go page your husband for you.” Kiyana turns her back to Alexis and storms to the nurses station, snatching the phone off the hook she - as calmly as she could - pages Elijah to the labor & delivery floor. 
“Dr. Elijah Daniels to labor & deliver, Dr. Elijah Daniels to labor & delivery.” Debra arches an eyebrow at Kiyana. 
“You missed him that bad?” She jokes, laughing then stops as she feels the anger radiating off of Kiyana. “Sweetly what happened?” 
“That asshole is married with children! His wife is the patient in 302.” Debra’s jaw dropped open. “I feel so freaking stupid.” She hissed out just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing a cheerful Elijah who was smiling brightly as he made his way towards Kiyana. 
“I knew that was you, are you okay? Is everything good?.” He smiled, and Kiyana struggled to maintain her composure, because at that moment, all she wanted to do was to smack that smile off his damn face. The more she looked at him, the angrier she got. 
“I don’t know, you tell me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Your wife is in room 302 waiting to deliver your third child.” She felt a sick satisfaction flow through her as the smile slowly left his face. Debra quickly decided to leave them alone, deciding it was time to go check on her patient. 
“Wait, I can explain.” Kiyana held her hand up, cutting him off. 
“I don’t wanna hear shit you have to say to me Elijah. Think about how your wife will feel once she finds -'' Elijah gripped her arm and pulled her down the hall, away from the nurses station. 
“She aint finding shit out, Kiyana. What I do ain’t none of her damn business.” When she tried to pull her arm away, he gripped it tighter, “You don’t know what I'm capable of Kiyana. You’re gonna go back in that damn room and help my wife through her discomfort and when the time comes, help deliver our child okay?!” He sneered at her, when she didn’t respond he squeezed her arm until she cried out in pain. 
“Ow! Stop. Okay! Okay!” She cried out in pain, feeling her tears sting her eyes. Elijah let go of her arm and straightened out his lab coat. 
“I’m gonna go check on my wife. I’ll see you later.” He brushed past her, leaving her rubbing her arm, where she knew she would be bruised, pulling his wedding ring out of the pocket and sliding it onto his finger. 
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yesbutmakeitgay · 7 months ago
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Lifelines Intertwined
Chapter 1
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Valkyrie x Reader
Summary: You are sent to New Asgard to help King Valkyrie protect her Kingdom. Soulmate AU.
Word count: 1.7k
Soulmates, Slow burn, Fluff, Angst.
A/N: Been working on this one for a while, hope you like it :)
Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling <3
Masterlist | This Work's Masterlist | AO3
Ripping Wings Off Of Butterflies
Soulmarks. A permanent imprint on your body that matches that of the person you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with.
Everybody has one, you have one, your partner has one, or at least, you hope you do, have a partner, that is.
They are simple, discreet, and easy to hide, but clear enough that you can spot your soulmate with the utmost certainty once you see it. Except, your mark is anything but. You were born with what can only be described as a hieroglyph expanding the entirety of your left forearm, in a tint so light, it almost blends in with your skin.
Your soulmark is so strange and in plain sight that it turns heads every time you're out in public, so you've learned to hide it underneath a hoodie, no matter the weather.
Having gone your whole life with such an odd mark has turned you cold, distant, emotionless. You joined S.H.I.E.L.D. hoping to be a productive member of society under the assumption that your coworkers would have a similar worldview to yours, but, it turns out, even the superheroes have found their life partners.
It has come to a point in your life where you are convinced you don’t really have a soulmate, and you are working towards being okay with that.
"Fury, do you copy?"
"What is it, Danvers?"
"The Kree are targeting New Asgard, you have to do something about it."
"Do I?"
"You need to send backup, quickly."
"Can’t you deal with it yourself?"
"I would, but I can't be in two places at once."
"The King hasn't contacted me at all."
"She’s more stubborn than me, please say yes so I can let her know."
"Fine."
You were called into Fury’s office first thing this morning, but you’re not really feeling so lively today, much like every other day, so you take your time. You slowly drag your feet into his office and slump on the chair in front of his desk without saying a word.
"You’re late," he states flatly.
"Okay."
"You’re not gonna half ass an excuse?"
"Uh, traffic?" you shrug.
He crosses his arms out of habit, "You live in this building."
"You said, 'half ass,'" you retaliate.
He starts to wonder why you were his first choice for this, but soon remembers you’re the most qualified for it, so he hands you a folder, "I have an assignment for you."
"Do you ever bring good news?"
"I think you might actually like this one."
The trip to New Asgard was longer than you expected, which gave you enough time to hype yourself up. For some reason you were determined to not be an asshole in front of The King.
As soon as you land, you can feel your heart beating faster and your hands begin to sweat. The pilot opens the door for you and wishes you luck on your mission.
You come down from the aircraft and immediately spot King Valkyrie making her way to you in all her mighty glory. She greets you and shows you around while her assistant takes your bags to your room.
"Marv speaks very highly of you," she comments as you’re walking into the palace.
"I try my best," you hesitate a little embarrassed.
"Thank you again, for making the trip and for helping me out here, New Asgard will really appreciate it."
"I hope I can do you justice."
"I’m sure you will," she opens the door to her office and gestures for you to come in, "do you have a codename?"
Every second that passes helps you feel more at ease with your surroundings, "I don't subscribe to such performative crap."
She laughs, "What should I call you then?"
"Whatever you'd call someone in my position, Agent? Soldier?"
She gently shakes her head, "You’re gonna be my right hand man, you need a more respectable title than that," her eyes fixate on yours, "how about 'Princess'?"
Your heart skips a beat, "If it is to your liking." You clear your throat.
"Alright then, my assistant will show you to your quarters, I will see you back here first thing tomorrow," she instructs with a smile on her face.
"Yes, Your Majesty, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." You bow your head.
She chuckles at your behavior, "You can drop the manners now, I already like you," she reassures you, shooting you a wink, "see you tomorrow."
You get to your room and unpack your stuff, you’re feeling good about this, maybe a change of scenery is exactly what you need to get your mind off of your imminent loneliness.
The King sits at her desk, reflecting. When Carol first made the suggestion, Valkyrie was unsure about having an agent in her Kingdom for support, but, after your introduction, she wonders why Carol didn’t bring it up sooner.
The next morning you get up as soon as the clock rings feeling your feet bounce on the ground, making your every move easier. It’s the first time in years you get up without snoozing your alarm even once. You get ready with your trusty hoodie on and knock on The Kings office at 7am sharp.
You walk in as she instructs and are surprised to see she’s already working. You stand by her desk, waiting for her to acknowledge you. After a moment, she lifts her head to see you, "You look hot."
"Thanks," you smirk.
"I mean temperature wise." She gives you a cheeky look, before going back to her work.
"Oh, no, I’m okay."
"It’s the middle of summer." She raises a questioning eyebrow without making eye contact.
"You’re wearing a three piece suit," you retaliate as you sit down in front of her.
She finally puts her work to the side to give you her undivided attention, "I am The King, what's your excuse?"
You feel as if you’ve been put on the spotlight, "It’s my emotional support hoodie?"
"Are you not wearing anything underneath?" she pries as she leans on the desk.
"If I say no, will that get you off my back?" You really hope she isn’t gonna make you take it off.
"I’ll take that thing off your back." She stands up and opens one of the drawers behind her to produce a uniform, she turns around and hands it to you.
You extend your arms and take it without even thinking, then unfold it to reveal a costume similar to her battling one, cape and all, "Do you have anything less…dramatic?"
"You work for The King now, you must look the part." Your brain starts racing, looking for a way to conceal your soulmark in such a bold outfit.
"Can I at least get sleeves?"
Sensing your unease, Valkyrie arranges a visit to the royal tailor, so you can adjust the uniform to your preference, with some restrictions. You compromise on a shorter cape, and manage to get your hands on a pair of gloves that go almost up to your elbows, seamlessly concealing your mark.
For the rest of your first day, King Valkyrie takes the time to show you how things work around the palace and to work out what your responsibilities will be during you stay.
"Do you have dinner plans?" Valkyrie asks when the sun sets.
You’re surprised by the question, "I just got here."
"Let me rephrase that, you are coming to dinner with me."
You can only nod obediently, "Okay."
You both take a short walk to a quaint little restaurant near the palace, as soon as you enter, your nostrils are invaded with the most delicious smell you've ever experienced.
A waiter soon greets The King, "Welcome, Your Majesty."
"Thank you, we're having the usual, please." Val walks you to what seems to be the table she always sits at in the far right corner of the building.
"We?" you repeat after you sit down.
"Yes, part of the benefit of being your boss is I get to decide what you eat," she jokes.
As you wait for your food, The King takes the opportunity to get to know you better. You’ve never been a fan of small talk, often opting for curt, sarcastic responses, and you can bet that this time will be no different.
"What do you like to do in your free time?"
Stare at a wall and rot, try not to think about dying alone. "I like to go on walks where I can be alone and reflect on life," you admit, surprising yourself, "what about you?"
"Drink," you hum in complete understanding, "I also enjoy visiting the children of The Kingdom and teaching them the ways of the sword, for recreational and self defense purposes." That's very sweet, you think.
"Do you enjoy children?"
"I suppose I don't really think of them as children, they're just small people." You're pleased by her answer, you never understood people belittling children merely for being small.
"You’re a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, right? What drew you to the job?" she follows.
The prospect of an early death. "I guess I always felt that life could be more than just self serving, I wanted to help people."
She gives you a soft smile, "I may not have chosen my jobs, but I feel quite the same."
Maybe you aren't so good at lying to The King.
"What’s royalty like?" You feel an uncharacteristic interest towards her.
"Mostly paperwork these days, which is probably why Marv thought it would be best to have you around, cover all our bases."
"Do you ever miss being a warrior?"
"One does not stop being a warrior simply because there aren’t any more battles left to fight."
Are you telling me you’re a pacifist now? "Doesn’t mean you can’t miss it, though, some of the biggest pleasures of my job come in the form of being allowed to be violent," you snark, making her chuckle.
The food arrives, and you have your first taste, "Oh my God, this is even better than it smells!" You exclaim with your mouth full.
Valkyrie grins knowingly, a feeling of pride washing over her, "It’s a power move," you look at her, confused, "whenever I have a diplomatic visitor I bring them here and order for them, makes them more inclined to trust me."
"That’s pretty clever."
"I know," she smiles.
"Why are you telling me your secret tactic?"
She stops in the middle of taking a bite of her food, "I actually don't know, perhaps this time it worked in reverse."
Chapter Two
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simpxxstan · 10 months ago
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Had this insane thought where reader and wonwoo are exes,both extremely rich people, n one day they get dragged to one of the mega rich orgies (which they never attended and never planned on attending because it wasnt their) by their friends to way to help them get back into the dating world and try meeting new people but they get separated from their friends and bump into each other and spend the next few hours having to forcefully e/o from being pulled away and flirted with byother people(while having to keep their composure) this goes on until one of them finally breaks andd they fuck the hell out of each other (dom!reader for like 5 minutes because being with ww was the only time they didn't top, they "forgot") i am so sorry if my English is bad and this makes no sense its 3 am and I like woke up in the middle of the night horny-
OH ANON this makes sense and your details were all perfect! and most importantly, thank you for sharing your thoughts w me
here's my contribution to your wonderful imagination-
warnings: NSFW (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT) mild description of orgy, possible multiple sex partners, jealousy and public-ish sex, tables being broken and sex on the floor(???)
wonwoo doesn't really mind being in the orgy and he decides to take advantage of the situation so he does get into a few scenes w some people
you, on the other hand, can't stand other people getting their hands over wonwoo
it's bad enough that you broke up with him because you wanted to focus on work (and you regret it but your pride is too big to beg him to come back)
and you're aware that wonwoo must be getting intimate w someone or the other, but SEEING IT HAPPEN? different story entirely
you hardly get emotional over something as physical as sex, treating it as nothing more than sex, so you convince yourself that seeing wonwoo in this position will not affect you
as expected, you're wrong
you're equal parts mad, irritated, upset and aroused
but you can't give wonwoo the pleasure of seeing how much you want to be in place of his current partner
so you get into a scene too yourself, not to get him jealous per se (because you don't think he will get jealous), but to just get your mind off him
you're wrong again.
for approx 5 minutes you enjoy domming your partner, relishing the control
but then wonwoo steps right in and takes over
because he gets incredibly jealous and cannot ignore it from the sidelines
and then he shows you, and your partner(s) during the scene who you really belong to
"you've tested me enough, doll" he says when he flips you over and lays you down on the nearest table
and god, you let him manhandle you
because a. you've missed it, and b. you love it
you may relish having control w others but there's nothing you love more than giving up control to wonwoo because you trust him to show you a divine time
so wonwoo does
he breaks the table with such a loud creak, that everybody at the party turns to look
but somehow you can't find yourself to care
you end up fucking on the floor, over the fragments of the table
"come back to me, baby" he asks you, while stuffing you full in the best way possible
your body is already marked by him completely but he can't get enough
"come back to me because i miss you, i want you, i need you, and i belong to you"
when you cry that night, it's not because of pain, but because he's giving it to you so good, you feel yourself becoming one with him
you'd be a fool to not go back to him now because he's reminded you thorougly that you two belong together
and the night ends with your confirmation to him, because you are his and he is yours
wonwoo decides everyone's had a good enough show, so he takes you home to finish that night
the orgy becomes a good memory for y'all later on in your relationship when you taunt him and he gets jealous again, but it's all a joke because you don't want anyone lay hands on wonwoo ever again and it's a mutual feeling
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zeynsdiary · 2 months ago
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ADDICTED | Impression
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pairing: choi mujin x fem!reader
wc: 3,4k
warnings: explicit language, mention of blood and knives, killing
author’s note: surprisingly i have so much motivation for writing lately so if there is something you’d like to read send me requests babes
If you’d liked to check out my masterlist, you can find it here. And lmk if you want to be tagged :)
What. the. fuck. is this place.
If it wasn’t for the guy named Bangjae, no, Gangjae? Or whatever. If he didn’t come and rescue you after your first week, there is no way you would willingly stay in this shithole. Washing all this man’s dishes and cleaning their dirty shirt, wiping their tears off of any surface. Just ew. And only because you’re the newest, it was tough and thankfully not for long. You were kind of sad for the guy though, he had no idea what was on the door for him.
When Taeju first gave you a tour at Dongcheon, showing you your new room and telling you about your new tasks, all you could do was run back to Donghoon.
"Did you just get me out of a hell to throw me into another?"
Turns out your ‘new life’ wasn’t a decent job and normal lifestyle, it was anything but.
He chuckled if your temper was funny. "You didn’t like your room?" You just kept looking at his eyes, waiting for him to make it make sense about how this place was a better fit for you. "Y/n-ah, just give it a week or two. This place will grow in you." Was all he said.
So you did just that. You gave yourself time and put effort into working out, trying to get better with your skills. The gym was always full of boys so you mostly worked out at night. You were usually alone but you preferred it that way because if you wanted to survive in this place you had to earn their respect. No man would respect a girl who’s half their size and doesn’t even know how to properly throw a punch. It was best to not have them knowing your skill level before you improved yourself. Throughout the day you always made yourself look busy while you watched their workout carefully so that you could copy them at night when you are alone and hope that you got them right.
After another busy day at Dongcheon, when everybody else retreaded their room it was the time your day started.
You wrapped your hands and wrists with a handwrap and put your headphones on before wearing the gloves. Closed your eyes and replay the memory of their moves in your mind and you hit the punch bag. Each melody in your ear left its place to the next one as the hour hands rushed to get to the midnight. Then you sensed a pair of eyes on you. You were no longer alone.
You turned your head where you felt their presence and see it was Taeju, right hand man of Choi Mujin. At first you decided to ignore him but training became harder with a professional’s whole attention on you. You pushed the glove off your right hand and took off the one side of your wired headphones and directed your body towards him. "What is it?”
He acted nonchalant with your question and slowly walked to the field in the middle of the gym. "You have the potential,” you slightly frowned. Where did that came from?
Why was he even here?
“but not the patience." he continued with. "If you wanna become a better fighter you should learn the basics first and master them.”
He raised his hand towards you and pointed you to come closer with his two fingers.
Was this him offering you a special training session? If that so, you were in no position to decline.
You grabbed the glove from the floor and walked to the field. Taeju watched you with careful eyes and realized your handwraps. "They are too tight," he said, then came right in front of you with two long steps and held your wrist. After unwrapping them he redo it for you and gave you tips on how to make them perfectly. You whispered him a small thank you.
You wondered why was he being like this after ignoring you for a week but whatever lesson he wanted to teach you, you just took it. You needed every knowledge you could get.
After making sure your hands were wrapped nice and good he also put his own gloves on and came right in front of you. "Show me what you got," he said.
You waited for him to grab the punch pads but instead he smiled, "Don’t worry, I can take a punch."
You felt the air easing after seeing him smile.
You returned his gesture and showed him the moves you were practicing a few minutes ago. It didn’t take him much to throw you to the ground. Still, he complimented you. "You’re fast, use it to your advantage."
You got back on your feet. He signed you to come at him again. You tried to put his suggestion into practice and fastened your rhythm.
Each round ended up with you laying on the floor and him picking you back up. You two spent almost an hour there sweating on each other. Sometimes filling the whole place up with your tangled laughters and the voice of the leather gloves hitting on both your skins. Maybe it was because you two were close in age but in that moment, you felt like you two would be close by time.
After that practice Taeju offered you cigarette, it quickly became a habit. Every night that Taeju could make it, you two worked out together at Dongcheon. Sometimes like tonight, sometimes just next to each other. Enjoying the other person’s company. Taeju discovered your ethics about training and how you tried to copy the other’s move and act on it. You soon realized how he always worked out close to you, as if showing you the combats. He would eye you some time to time to see if you got them correctly and would do the same thing over and over till you got it right. He never said a word about it. Both of you were aware of the act but kept it like a secret. At the end of the each night you two would share a cigarette and went to your separate rooms.
It all started with Donghoon asking Taeju to keep an eye on you and help you if you needed something. Taeju only accepted cause he didn’t want to say no to his dear old friend. Neither of them knew that it would be the great opener to a lifelong friendship between you and Taeju.
. . .
Unlike for his friend and subordinate, Mujin was not easily impressed. He watched you with Taeju through the security cameras and often asked him about your improvements. At the first day that you came to Dongcheon he thought that you would leave the place in a day but you surprised him and kept doing so by the each passing day. Mujin was not an anti-feminist but the idea of a woman surviving in this world was not likely to him. Especially a woman at your age and with no experience about this type of life.
So he kept his eyes on you without your acknowledgment. Trying to see what his friends saw in you.
Sure you were ambitious and a hardworker but what mattered to him was were you a killer?
There was only one way to find out.
Mujin ordered Taeju to bring you to the next fight when it happened. Saying he needed to see some things.
Not so long after, he got you exactly where he wanted. Right in front of a traitor who was already on his knees, begging for his life to be speared. Mujin's knife resting against the traitor's neck. He looked at you from the corner of his eyes. He put on an act to make it look like he just got the idea and he held out the knife for you.
It was time to play.
"You kill him, rookie."
He ordered you with a stone face. Waiting for your reaction with piercing eyes. Knowing pretty well that you aren't capable of killing just yet. You looked at his eyes and his face told you everything: He was challenging you.
"Let's see if you deserve your place in here."
Fear consumed your whole body. Your hands getting colder as you took the knife that was extended to you. You felt the handle in your hands, it was strange. You thought about how it probably took many lives before. He asked you to add one more to that list.
He asked you to kill someone. Someone that was begging for forgiveness on his knees, right in front of you. You watched the tears slipping down his face, the panic in his eyes and listened him talking about his family. How he had a wife and two kids at home, waiting for him. He told you that the young was just four years old and how much he needed him.
While your sympathy for him grew you forgot about Mujin’s gaze on you. Your hands were shaking, how could you kill him when he was looking to your eyes like that.
Mujin got closer to you, "Stab him." he told you harshly.
You felt your eyes burn but didn't let the tears spill. With your shaky breaths, you tried to keep your hand still.
"Stab him." he ordered one more time, his patience wearing thin.
Enough time passed with the man's pleas and your silent cries. The pressure of his presence next to you made everything worse. At the end he took the knife back from you, harshly. He pulled you to himself while he was doing so and locked your head with his left arm. Everything happened so fast. While he forced you to look, he stabbed the man from his neck in a one swift movement. You didn't even have time to close your eyes as the man's blood splashed onto your face. Your breath hitched. You couldn't comprehend what just had happened.
With your eyes wide open, you watched his life fly away from his eyes as he looked at you. Before his body collapsed to the floor, Mujin handed you the knife back. This time covered with blood. He let go of you and left you alone with a dead man in front of you without even saying anything.
The feeling of a dead man's blood on your face and holding in your hand the very same knife that killed him, you didn't know what to do with that. But it told you one thing: Dongcheon was not just a gym you can only workout and live a normal life, it was a lifestyle.
A life you did not belong, yet.
. . .
After what happened at that mission you thought they would kick you out. So you decided it was best to go yourself. You were no stranger to feel like an outsider, be the person that just don't fit. Deep down you cursed yourself for hesitating to kill that man. If you weren't such a coward, you had the perfect opportunity to prove yourself to Mujin. Prove you are capable.
A knock on your already opened door interrupted your thoughts. You looked at the door from top of your shoulder. You saw Taeju, he folded his arms on his chest as he looked at your bag. "Going somewhere?" he asked. You kept your silence. He didn't need an answer. "Boss wants to see you, let's go." he continued casually.
Your chest thigtened, "Is he here?” you knew that he doesn't come to dongcheon much often.
Taeju smiled, "No. You are going to the Liber." he said while he pointed the hotel that was visible from the window with his finger.
You grabbed your bag, "Just tell him I was already left when you got here. I'm certain he would be more glad that way."
Your sarcasm was one of his favorite things about you when it was not directed to him. He would never let you know though. But an order was an order. One way or another Taeju brought you to the hotel.
Single door away from your boss, you didn't know what to expect.
He opened the door for you after a knock. Giving you one last look before he steps in the room, excepting you to follow. You do. Walking till you reach the middle of the room, in front of the desk where he stood with his back turned to you. You watched his back through his perfectly ironed shirt. Unaware of his harsh stare through the reflection on the mirror.
"I see you are still here, rookie."
You nervously shifted in your place. "You asked for me," your voice was gruff but not in a rebellious way. Mujin took his time before turning his face from the window. Nodding slowly, he confirmed the undoubted truth. "Indeed I did." his midnight dark gaze fixated on your confidant looking figure. He took in all of you as you did the same. The silence were sitting in the middle of the room as the two of you waited for the other one to speak.
You saw it again —the expectation in his eyes. Just like the time when he extended his knife to you to kill that man. You startled with the recall of that moment. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, his body, on his knees, begging. How you stood helpless as his blood stained your face like a blush in the most sinful shade. Part of you felt ashamed for feeling sympathy for such a man, a traitor. That part was the reason why you wanted to leave earlier, before Taeju brought you here. Because your heart's voice were loud and clear in your ears when she told you: you are not a killer, you can't be a killer. But your guts sneaked its way behind your ear, like a well-prepared-venom, it poisoned you with sweet nothings. You belong here, prove them.
Prove him.
Well that, that was the other part.
Under his glare, you felt the need to apologize. Right when you started with "About today-" he was quick to interrupt you. "Why are you here y/n?" You did not expect such question. Before your slight frown could completely appear on your face he continued. "If you don't share the value of all my other man, if you can't do what your told, why are you here?" Mujin were harsh with his words. They were meant to be that way.
His word hurt, not for the reason he plotted for -even though it would be less painful- but for the resemblance it held to your deepest feelings. Little you that couldn't fit to the largest rooms and tiniest house. A piece of you that desired the most to be part of somewhere, something, anything. Like a card always getting declined at any store. Never because of the balance but perhaps she was trapped in a man's back pocket, bent and forced to lost her own shape, or because of all the marks and cuts that was gifted from many prior careless use-r. None of it could stop her from searching for the right place though, cuz at the and of the day she knew her worth, loaded heavier than any possible wealth, she was going to find the place that would accept her for her maybe today maybe later. Oh but how she wished it was today.
How you wished it was today.
You swallowed your feelings, and blinked away your gathering tears. Through that exact moment you felt your veins burning with the hunger of proving yourself once and all. "I assure you boss, I'm perfectly capable of listening orders. I'm sorry about earlier, it won't happen again." your answer was simple, casual. Definitely the words of someone in your position would say.
He nodded again, elaborately refilled his glass. "Should I believe you or to the little girl I saw? Trembling with a knife in her hands,” He tsked.
Little girl?
You looked at him with no emotion in your eyes. Acting unfazed, "It won’t happen again." then you added. "Like I said."
Mujin quirked his lips, an idea already lighted in his head. He drank his remaining whiskey in his glass in one go and walked to his drawer. "So..." he started with. A dangerous smile appeared on his full lips. Amusement clear on his face with finding what he was looking for.
You shifted on your leg when he was not looking. Not knowing what was to come sat heavy on your chest. You saw him pulling out something black out of the drawer, couldn't quite name what it was. Right when he pulled out its cover, you saw it. The familiarity sent chills down your spine. You knew exactly what it was. A knife —his knife.
As he walked around his desk his smile remained on his lips. "Words are just words y/n," He stopped in front of you, his eyes keen. With his two fingers he motioned you to come closer. Even if your legs wanted to do the opposite, you obeyed.
His calm demeanor was rather unsettling, you pushed your thoughts to aside and stood next to him. "You wanna stay, you prove it." his voice's unique tone was ringing in your ears. No matter what you had to put yourself together. Even though you didn't know what he exactly meant, it was your second -most likely last- chance. Failing was not a luxury you owned.
You watched as he moved the knife in his palm with a swift moment. The scales that were ones in his palm were now directed to you. Before you could question his wish he wrapped his free hand around your wrist and pulled you closer to himself. You let out a gasp, caught by surprise. You looked up at him as he leaned down. "Stab me." he ordered. His voice stern and clear.
Stab me.
He said, stab me.
Your mouth gaped open. It all happened so fast. You were slow to grasp it all. His breath on your face, grip on your wrist. You felt yourself trapped in the biggest room you've ever been in.
His dark rides were burnin' with fire. "Stab me." he repeated.
Put your self together y/n.
You gulped down and took the knife that was extended to you. Your eyes not leaving his for a second, you held the scales very tightly to prevent your hands from trembling. He didn't let go of your wrist or step back. He just looked down at you, breathing loudly. It felt hot on your skin, his breath mixed with the smell of his cologne and whiskey played games inside your head. You felt the knife between your fingers, it was strange. New and outlandish. You held it tighter, owning the feeling of it. You can do this.
He pulled you even closer, his patience wearing thin. "Stab me." he bawled at your face. You slightly flinched. Heart beating so fast you were sure if the room was a tad quieter both men could hear its embarrassing pace. His touch, his gaze, to full of expectation. You felt it radiating off his body. Wondering what was his real wish. Did he wanted you to be scared and back off or show him your capability and stubbornness?
Your insides were in fire. All you wanted was the erase that arrogant smile off his body. You didn't think what would happen after that moment. You looked deep in his eyes, without ever blinking you lifted the knife and stabbed him on his thigh. As the warm liquid climbed its way on your hand, your nostrils were filled with an irony smell. As if it was possible your heartbeat fastened.
Mujin didn't show any sign of hurt, like he wasn't the one got stabbed just now. His smirk shifted from arrogance to satisfaction. He enjoyed your persistent nature more than he liked to admit.
In his eyes you expected to see fury, anger not this. Joy.
Pure joy.
You couldn't put your finger on it whether it was a good sign or not. Even his look of approval were anything but comforting. You were unaware of every dangerous thought crossing his mind.
When he opened his mouth the only word that left were: 그렇지.
그렇지 means something like ‘that’s right’ according to google but it’s the word Mujin used several times at the last episode of the show where he and Jiwoo were fighting. It’s more like a praise. I thought it was very fitting.
And don’t be shy leave a comment pookie, let’s have a chat.
.
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bella-rose29 · 2 years ago
Text
Puppy
Request from anon:
hiiiii, first I wanna say that I enjoy reading your works, they're wonderful. <3
Now, I've seen you post about wanting Lockwood requests and I might have an idea. Lockwood and reader are in long-term relationship (they know each other since childhood, the reader is talentless but Lockwood comes to her when he need to relax/help with a plan/whatever), and no-one knows about the relationship besides them. And after some rough case when kipss crew had to help out, Lockwood and co and kipss crew are drinking in a bar to ease up (the reader works in the bar as part-time job) and in the drunken state Lockwood is even more confident than normally so someone makes a bet with him that he won be able to get a kiss out of the bartender (the reader) by the end of the night... I don't really know what after but maybe you'll be able to find a fluffy/funny ending to it?
I hope I'm making sense.
Have a nice day! :)))
First of all, thank you for the love anon, and I hope you have a nice day too!! <3
Second, I am completely in love with this idea (it's totally something Lockwood would do let's face it) and I had so much fun writing this!!!
Hopefully this lives up to expectations my lovely <3
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: descriptions of injury, fight scenes (with dead people), swearing, suggestive comments, drunken activities (mostly Lockwood), everybody is over 18 so they can legally drink in the pub
Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife
As always, if you'd like to be added to/removed from the tag list, let me know here <3
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(not my gif <3)
Lockwood was tired.
He'd barely slept the night before, despite not having a case, and he'd barely eaten the whole day. It was nearing 7pm now, the sun having set over an hour ago and leaving the city in almost darkness. There would be no sleeping tonight, either, since he and his company had to tackle a Type One in an old lady's house. All Lockwood really wanted was to see her, and have her tell him stories about her day until he fell asleep in her arms, but he couldn't do that right now. Hopefully this would be done quickly, this job, so that he could get to hers before she went to sleep.
Lockwood and Co had been in the kitchen of Mrs Lovey's house for a while now, cups of tea left empty on the counter and the packet of biscuits finished off. Initial readings had been low, giving Lockwood hope that they really would be done quickly, and they'd made note of the likely places for the Source.
"Lockwood? You're staring into space again. You alright?"
He blinked back into reality, pulling himself out of his thoughts of warm rooms and soft kisses.
"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I'm alright. Just surprised this Visitor hasn't turned up yet." He checked his watch. "Time for another reading in the living room?"
George nodded. "I'll go first."
The three of them headed in, rapiers at the ready.
"One degree. And a feeling of unease. It's definitely getting close to being here."
"Never mind close, I can see it," Lockwood whispered, taking up a defensive position.
"Yeah, I can hear it, too. Sounds like someone crying. I don't think this is a Type One either," Lucy added, and Lockwood couldn't help but agree.
"Any murders or anything happen here, George?"
"Not that I'm aware of, and I researched for days for this one. Didn't find anything out of the ordinary."
"Male or female, Luce? The voice."
"Uh, hang on, shut up a minute." She closed her eyes, focusing her efforts on Listening. "Male. Definitely. Sounds older, and like he's got some sort of trauma."
"Right. George, you figure out where the Source is. Lucy and I will watch it, make sure it doesn't go for you. Can either of you see it yet?"
"Not really. There's a sort of shiny mist over by that armchair, though," George said, pointing in the direction of the ratty old seat.
"Yeah, okay. That's where it is. Lucy?"
"Same as George. Getting stronger though. Maybe the chair is the Source?"
"Could be. George?"
"You're sure you've got my back, yeah? Because I really can't see it that well right now and I'd rather not die tonight."
"We're sure. Go on, have a poke around."
George did so, hesitantly getting closer to the chair and holding the scanner up. "Yeah, the Source is here somewhere." He prodded the side, and Lockwood saw Lucy flinch.
"It didn't like that at all. God, that was awful. Wait, George, don't-"
She slammed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the scream that even Lockwood could hear now.
"George, get the net," he cried out, rapier moving swiftly as the Visitor grew brighter and aimed for the head of the company.
"Incredibly clear visual, Lockwood! Lucy was right, it's definitely a Type Two!"
"GET THE NET, GEORGE!"
Lockwood had been backed into a corner, arm starting to ache from the continuous motion of the rapier holding off the ghost in front of him. Lucy had recovered (just about), and was picking up her rapier to help him. Sensing a second opponent, the ghost turned, and targeted Lockwood's coworker. The two of them spent the next few minutes sending the Visitor between them while George repeatedly chucked the net over various parts of the chair, expression growing more frantic each time.
"George, what's going on?!" Lucy shouted.
"It's not working! I don't think the chair is the Source! Or if it is, it's inside the chair!"
"Then get searching! Rip the whole bloody thing apart if you have to! But get on with it!" Lockwood gritted his teeth, fighting off the cold unease he felt flooding through his body. He thought of her, and her smile, and her laugh, and pushed back twice as hard against the Visitor. At some point he'd injured himself, the cut on his upper left arm bleeding slightly, but he couldn't think about that until the ghost was dealt with.
"GOT IT!" George shouted, voice triumphant. He slung the net around the object he'd found, and all at once the living room went silent apart from the heavy breaths of the three agents. The ghost disappeared, and the temperature started rising. George sat back on his knees and held the swaddled object up, bits of foam stuffing caught in his curls. "Knife, it's got blood on it. I'd wager she killed her husband. There was a cut already made in the back, made it easier to find." He looked vaguely manic, what with his wide grin and foam-covered hair, but Lockwood couldn't deny his gratitude for his weird friend.
"I reckon we need to have a chat with DEPRAC, then. Mrs. Lovey clearly doesn't live up to her name," he replied, smile matching George's.
~~~
Half an hour later, Lockwood was on his way to hers. He'd left George and Lucy in the taxi, telling them he had something to sort out and he'd be back later, and to not wait up for him, and had caught his own cab to his destination.
He dragged himself up the front steps, knocking on the front door, and couldn't help the smile that appeared when it swung open to reveal his girlfriend.
"Jesus Christ, you look like shit."
"Charming as ever, love. Can I come in?"
Y/n stepped to the side, giving him a peck on the lips as he went past. "Shoes off, then up to my room. I'll be there in a sec. Gimme your coat, I'll hang it up for you."
He pulled himself up to her room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her siblings, and collapsed on her bed.
"Look at you. You're like a puppy, all cute and cuddly."
He lifted his head as Y/n walked in, closing the door behind her with a soft click as she balanced a tray in her hands.
"Jacket off. And shirt."
"If you wanted me naked you could have just said so, darling." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, revelling in her blush.
"Shut up and strip, Anthony," she mumbled.
He complied, smirk turning into smile as he saw the medical supplies on the tray, right next to a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.
"What even happened?"
"Honestly? No clue. Type One turned out to be a Type Two murder victim though, so that was fun."
"You know, there are times I wish I had Talent. Then you come here looking like this and saying things like that and I wonder why I ever wanted it in the first place. Easy on the shirt, I think it's stuck." He'd winced trying to peel the fabric away from the wound, and Y/n immediately replaced his fingers with hers, touch gentle as she attempted to prise his shirt off. Sucking in air through her teeth as she got it off, Lockwood knew it was bad. It had been a dull throb the whole time he'd been travelling over, too exhausted to think about it more, but now that he had nothing else to think about the pain sharpened.
"This is gonna hurt, okay? I'm just gonna sterilise it, so try not to move. Three, two..." He waited for one, but before she got there, Y/n had placed the cotton wool on his arm, dabbing the alcohol on the wound. He gritted his teeth, asking her about her day. She spoke while she worked, cleaning it out and covering it in protective wrapping. Her voice distracted him, letting him lose himself in her words, and she was done before he knew it, pouring a cup of tea and offering it out to him. "Put this on," she said, passing over an old shirt of his that he left at hers specifically for times like this.
"Do you really want me to?"
"No, but if it means that when my parents inevitably walk in they don't kick you out forever, I'll live with it." He laughed slightly, placing the tea down and pulling the top on, careful not to disturb his wound.
"You know you don't have to do that, right? I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own injuries."
"I know," she shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. "But I don't mind. Just another excuse to be close to you, I guess."
"You don't need an excuse for that, love. You know I'll happily give you anything you like."
"Anything?"
He nodded.
"Alright," she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips, breaking away when their smiles got too wide.
"I thought you were going to make me dance naked in the street or something." Her eyes went wide as she took in his words.
"Oh my god, I am totally making you do that sometime."
He groaned, unable to fight the smile on his face as she peppered his cheeks with kisses, finally pressing one to his mouth.
"Remind me why I love you?"
"Because I'm amazing, and the most incredible person ever?"
He chuckled, kissing her again. "Yeah. You are."
~~~
"Where the hell have you been, Tony? We've been waiting for you!"
"Just had some last minute things to sort out, don't get your knickers in a twist, Kipps. Oh, thanks Luce," he said, smiling at the girl as she handed him a flask of tea. He'd actually been at Y/n's, spending time with her before her shift at the pub. He'd almost been late, her parents wanting him to stay for dinner (he had politely declined, reminding them that he had a job to go to as well as their daughter), and her younger siblings wanting him to play with them. Lockwood and Y/n's parents had been friends since before either of them were born, at one point the two families living next to each other on Portland Row, and it was only the arrival of the fourth baby five years ago that had made the L/n family move. It had only been natural that Anthony and Y/n started dating, having been childhood friends, and her parents were delighted at the pairing. Unfortunately that now meant that they wanted him to spend every spare minute at their house, which more often than not made him slightly late for work.
"I'm not wearing knickers," the older boy muttered indignantly, clearly unable to come up with a good enough retort.
"Oh, are these the files? Thanks George."
"Wait, have you not even read these?" Kipps said, eyebrows rising.
"Of course I have, just not the whole compiled thing. I'm not stupid." Kipps scoffed at that.
"Yeah, sure you're not, Tony. C'mon. Hurry up and read, we're late because of you and we need to set everything up before it gets dark."
~~~
Three hours later, the two teams were close to death.
Both in the sense that they were run ragged, energy severely depleted and bodies aching, and also in that they were completely surrounded by ghosts, Type Ones and Types Twos blocking every exit. The report had said that there were only meant to be two Spectres in the whole abandoned department store, but before it had even been properly dark Lucy had heard voices crying out and shouting, and Lockwood had seen death glows so bright he'd needed his sunglasses.
"Tony, what the hell are you doing?!"
He was taking a break, eyes aching from the brightness surrounding them and arm protesting the weight of his rapier. He scanned the area, sure that Lucy would have his back for a moment, and spotted something through a gap in the Visitors.
"Lucy?"
"What?!"
"I need you to not kill me and cover me with flares."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to run through the ghosts."
"You're WHAT?!"
"What? What's he saying?" Kipps was trying to get closer to them, rapier cutting arcs into the air and not giving him much headway.
"You're impossible, you know that?" Lucy glared at him, grabbing some flares from her belt.
"Yep. Ready?" She threw, the magnesium creating a break in the swarm of ghosts large enough for Lockwood to cut through. He made it to the other side (although a near miss from a badly aimed flare made him think that Lucy was trying to hit him and not the Visitors), trying to block out the sounds of his team mates yelling as they fought swathes of the undead. He ducked under a chair that a poltergeist had thrown, dodging the knives hurled afterwards. Skidding to a halt in front of a large iron box filled with objects, the lid hanging open, Lockwood slammed it shut, throwing a net over the top for good measure and securing the edges. Within seconds the majority of the Visitors disappeared. A few still remained, including the two poltergeists, but the number was much better.
The two teams spent the next thirty minutes finding the various Sources of the remaining ghosts, all the while trying to not get hit by the items the poltergeists were throwing, and by the end of it when Kipps suggested going to the pub, nobody disagreed.
~~~
Lockwood and Co were in the taxi on their way to the pub when George piped up.
"Why'd you agree to going to the pub with Kipps? I would have thought you'd rather eat your own foot than spend more time with him."
"I need a drink, and he said he'd buy the first round. If it's free, I'll take it. I don't really care who's buying it, even if it's Kipps."
They clambered out the taxi, Lockwood paying the driver and jogging to catch up with the other two just as they entered the pub. Spotting Kipps' team already sat down, the three of them headed over, taking seats and giving their order to the older agent. Lockwood looked around, certain he recognised the building but unsure why, when his gaze caught on the girl behind the bar.
Ah.
Of course the pub Kipps picked was the one that Y/n worked at. Lockwood had been here before, which is why he thought it was familiar, but nobody knew about his relationship with the bartender. Kipps came back with the drinks then, one of the other servers following with the rest and asking for ID. Taking his first sip, Lockwood felt himself relax a little more, happy to not be going anywhere for a while after the gruelling job earlier.
~~~
"You," Lucy pointed at him, "are so drunk right now."
"Seriously, you cannot hold your alcohol, can you Tony?"
"Don't call me Tony, you prick." It was true that Lockwood was a lightweight, and he knew it, but he grumbled about the accusation anyway. Kipps only laughed, not doing much better than his rival in terms of handling alcohol, and took another swig of his beer.
"You're probably rubbish at picking up girls, too. Y'know, you're probably rubbish at every normal guy thing."
"Shut up, I can so pick up girls." He wasn't going to let Kipps tell him he was bad at anything.
"Oh really?"
"Yep. Amazing at it."
"Bet you can't get a kiss out the bartender though."
"Which one," he said, hoping Kipps would pick the right one.
"The one in the blue top, about your age. In fact, I am so confident you'll be shit at this, I'll bet ten quid you can't do it."
"Oh you're on," Lockwood said, knowing already he'd win the bet. Kipps had unknowingly picked Lockwood's girlfriend, and this would be the easiest ten pounds of his life.
"I'll bet a tenner too. I'm looking forward to watching you fail dramatically," Kat Godwin added, smirk on her face. Bobby placed his own bet, and soon enough there was fifty quid on the line, with George and Lucy agreeing with Kipps.
"Off you go, Lockwood," Lucy smiled, giving him a pat on the back. "Try not to traumatise the poor girl."
"Oh, just you all wait," he slurred, pointing a finger at them. "This is gonna be easyyyy." He headed for the bar, confidence filling him and giving him the ability to walk a lot straighter than he would otherwise have. He leaned forward on the wooden surface, fingers drumming against it. "Heyyy," he said, smiling up at his girlfriend as he slid (unsuccessfully) onto a stool.
"Hi... you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm great, and you," he wagged his finger at her, pausing for effect, "are gorgeous." He winked, and she suppressed a laugh, making him pout. "Why're you laughing? It's true!"
"Ant, honey, you are very drunk right now. Please go home," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles bursting out.
"But I can't go home," he said, suddenly very serious.
"Oh really? Why's that?"
"Because I need a kiss if I'm gonna go home." He puckered up immediately, leaning forward over the bar and closing his eyes.
"Oh my god, Anthony, stop it!"
"Aw, do you not wanna kiss me?" He pouted again, and Y/n couldn't stop her laughter anymore. Lockwood sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "Well, I'm not going away until I get a kiss from the prettiest bartender person lady that I've ever seen, so you'll have to get used to me being here."
"Okay, alright! Lemme serve this customer, yeah?" She turned away, leaving Lockwood to stew in his seat at her lack of kisses. Waiting for her to come back to him felt like an eternity, and when she came around the bar to stand next to him, he perked up, half launching himself at her. "Woah! Hold on, Ant! Jesus!" He was still sat on the stool, Y/n being only slightly taller than him despite being stood up, and he pulled her between his legs, arms wrapping around her waist. "Wait, what about your friends? I thought they didn't know?"
"Don't care, jus' wanna kiss you. There's a share of fifty pounds in it for you," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like he had a few weeks ago when she'd patched him up.
"Oh wow, you really love me, huh? Kissing me for money?" she asked sarcastically, but her eyes were warm. He nodded, dopey look on his face.
"Please? 'Cause Kipps said I can't pick up girls, and he bet money that I couldn't get a kiss out of you, and then the others bet money too, and mostly I wanna prove him wrong, but also I want the money so I can take you on the most amazing date in your life and get you ice cream."
"You are such a golden retriever puppy of a boyfriend, aren't you? Come here." She took his face in her hands, placing a few soft kisses on his mouth. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her closer to him, and Y/n had to brace a hand on the bar so that she didn't fall over from the awkward angle. When she pulled back, he chased her lips for a moment, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze was full of love, and he had a gentle smile on his face.
"I love you, Y/n/n."
"Love you too, Ant. Now get your fifty pounds and drink some water."
"Ugh, but water's boringgg," he complained, frown forming on his face. Y/n chuckled, kissing the crease between his eyebrows.
"I'll give you more than kisses when you come over on Saturday if you sober up." Lockwood stopped frowning immediately, and Y/n could practically feel the happiness radiating off of him.
"Where's the water?"
~~~
"Shit, how'd you do that, Tony?"
Lockwood shrugged. "I'm just really good at picking up girls."
"Sure, is that vodka?"
"Nope, water."
"Why have you got that?" Kipps wrinkled his nose, handing over his portion of Lockwood's winnings.
"Because she told me to drink it," he said, sipping the liquid through the straw he'd asked for (it made drinking boring things more fun, he'd told Y/n).
"Uh... okay?"
"Yeah. I feel like- hang on, Lucy, where's your tenner? Thanks. I feel like it's a little bit unfair, the bet, 'cause she is actually my girlfriend, but- no, you can't take the money back! You made a bet! No take-backs! But thanks anyway."
"So you can't pick up girls!" Kipps shouted, thinking he'd finally found something Anthony Lockwood couldn't do.
"Well technically I can, 'cause I had to pick her up in the first place to get her to be my girlfriend, and also she's not that heavy, so I can definitely pick her up if she doesn't wriggle too much. I know 'cause I've done it before."
Kipps groaned. "Wait... she just told you to drink water, so you are?"
"Yep. She's very persuasive. Basically said that if I drink it all then when I go to her house on Saturday we're gonna have sex," he said casually.
Everybody around the table choked on their drinks.
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shurisleftearring · 1 year ago
Text
Green Eyes
I am so scared posting this but here it is, my first part (maybe). Any grammar or plot suggestions are welcomed, but please be nice. Not sure if I wanna include smut in this story or not idk. Anyways, thanks for reading, and enjoy! :) (Also how the fuck do I work this damn app? I am so fucking confused it’s sad fr)
But I don’t love you anymore, I’m so insecure, never knew that love did this…
Word count: 1k+
Pairing: Shuri x Black!fem!reader
Summary: Five years. It’s been five years since the blip. And even longer since you’ve been in a relationship. Maybe it’s for the best. The last time you were in a relationship, it just ended in disarray. But, when your ex comes back into your life, can you start over and do it again? Or try to move on with an unexpected love?
______________________________________________________________
“Y/n c’mon, you are slow!”
You were always late. You can never make it to anything on time. That’s what you need to change. You somehow wake up 5 hours before and still end up 10-15 minutes late.
“I’m coming damn, hold up.”
“Girl, I need you to make this on time, the board offered us amazing positions at Stark Industries and WE.CANNOT.BE.LATE.” 
At this point you were rushing to get your hair together, your makeup on, and your fit. You had a very boring style, but sometimes you surprised people. 
“Is this okay?”
“Girl, it’s fine. Now c’monn”
“Ok ok damn”
______________________________________________________________
By the time you got there, you had one minute left. You used that minute to scope the place out. Can’t even lie, it was beautiful. All of those good-looking drinks, food, people. You were in awe. 
“Damn, this place is nice!” You said.
“Girl, I know we're in the big money now!” Kaira said.
You and your close co-worker friend get guided to the huge table in the back. When you see the table everybody is already there. You look around and your heart drops to you stomach. It's her. At first, you had no idea who she was, she had changed so much. She dresses more masculine now, she has sides of her hair cut, and she has on grillz. You are wondering where the hell she knows about those. Back when y'all used to “date”, y'all were both young and didn’t know shit.
“Shit,” you whispered.
“What did you say, girl?” Kaira said.
“Oh nothing”
You were freaking out inside. Lost in your thoughts. Your memories of her. You were so lost in your own head that you didn’t notice that she he saw you too.  She almost spat her drink out. She didn’t even recognize you.
“Damn, she's fine. Do you know her Shuri?” Peter said.
“...No,” Shuri said, looking away from your curvaceous body.
“Mm, well I’m going to go over there and introduce myself” 
“Don’t you have Mj?”
“Well…she doesn’t remember me. Our love can wait”
Shuri rolled her eyes and they landed on you. She saw how beautiful you became. Your braces were gone and got a skincare routine. She saw how your body grew into its grown woman body. Your thighs, hips, and breasts were just too mesmerizing.  She was shamelessly  checking you out, not caring who saw. You were trying to look distracted when you accidentally locked eyes with Shuri. Her gaze suddenly made you weak in the knees. You didn’t even notice that you were about to run into a waiter. You ran into the waiter, the gaze broken. She started chuckling, not realizing how powerful her stare was. She guessed that’s how she got all those models so easily. You apologized to the waiter and walked to your seat, trying to get some dignity back.
“Girl, are you ok?” your co-worker friend asked.
“Yeah. I’m good Kaira”
“I swear you always trippin’ somewhere” she said laughing.
You laughed praying that no one saw that. You looked and saw that you were sitting in between Okoye and Kaira.  Thank god you weren’t sitting next to her. But, across from her was even worse. Her staring just got more intense by the second. You tried to focus as Pepper Potts-Stark began. 
“Well, now that we have everyone here, welcome. I hope we get a lot of things accomplished in these upcoming years, as you know the people are still-”
You were tryna listen, but you could feel her stare lingering on you. It makes your stomach churn and do somersaults.
“-Now, to focus on the positive things, I have decided to hire more people on the personal Avengers team. Welcome y/n and Kaira!”
You and Kaira stood up. Everyone clapped and said welcome. Kaira was eating up the attention thankfully. 
“Well, if a pile of paperwork and deadlines to meet is a ‘ welcome’, then I’ll accept it,” Kaira said as people started chuckling.
“Ah, yes, as you can see, the team is very happy to see new people joining, but don’t let them bully you, okay?” Pepper said, winking. 
“Oh, trust me I won’t,” You said.
“We’ll see about that sweetness,” Thor said.
You cringed at that. Men being men. The people at the table saw the discomfort on your face.
“Ok, enough guys. They’ve already experienced your ‘warm’ welcome” Shuri said. 
“Not Shuri defending them. She must like one of them.” Peter said, drinking his drink.
Chuckles filled the room after he said that. He was honestly right but she was too prideful to accept it. 
“Peter do not test me” She looked at Peter and he just drunk his drink and tried to hide his face. 
“Ooo Shuri is going to mess him up” 
“He's always talking he needs to shut up”
______________________________________________________________
A few hours later,  everything was done. You and Kaira signed everything and promised to sign an NDA until your contract expires. Now people were just talking. You didn’t like being in boring places, but that was your life lately. Boring ass places. 
“Girl, I am ready to go, I love networking, but damn it sure does make you tired.” 
“Amen girl, I'm gonna crash at your place, is that okay?” You said
“Yeah, that’s fine. Also, I saw Her Majesty staring at you. Does she know you?” 
 You were trying not to show the sudden panic on your face.
“...Not Really…” 
“Mhm, yeah ok.”
Kaira knew when you were lying. She knew you like the back of her hand. She always knew when you were sad, angry, happy, and when you were lying.
Y’all were leaving, laughing and chatting about how your first day would go. While walking, you notice a nice vintage 1964 Ferrari 250 GTO. Your mouth was wide open. 
“Kaira look!” you said
Kaira looked and her mouth went wide open as well. 
“Shit….that’s your dream car!” she squealed.
“I know! It’s so beautiful!” 
“Excuse me” 
You turned around and were moving out of the way when you saw it was Shuri. Her voice felt like butter, and you could smell her amazing vanilla perfume since she was close. 
“Ooooo” Kaira mumbled.
Kaira was never any help. She was a proud instigator. 
“Oh- Umm we're sorry, we-”
“It’s all good love, you were just admiring right?”
“Right”
Love. You haven't heard that word in a long time. She said so casually like you were still with her. 
But you weren’t. 
______________________________________________________________
6-7 years ago
“Sher please? You've known my friends for a while now. You said it yourself you trusted them!"
“Love, no. Besides I don’t like you hanging around Daniel anyways”
You groaned. “Shuri, we don’t like each other”
“You still like men"
You knelt down to her level. “But not that man. I don't like any men, just you” You pressed your lips on hers, her jealousy slowly drifting away. You loved moments like these. Her being putty in your hands.
“Ok fine. You can go. Only, you have to make sure that you call me every hour”
“Oh my God, you are so obsessive”
“It’s called keeping you safe”
“No one knows we're dating. I’ll be fine” You said, kissing her forehead. 
“Mhm. Still, I want you to call me”
“Ok my love see you soon~” You went out the door and to one of your best friends arms for a hug.
"You ready to go girl?"
"Yes! I am so excited!"
"I'm surprised that Shuri even let you out"
"Haha, now hurry and let's get to this festival!" You squealed in excitement.
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husbandomail-archive · 2 years ago
Text
hello I have returned! thank you everybody for your patience while my family moved; we’re still not entirely settled in, but I’m slowly reaching the point where I can resume writing. so here’s what I’ve been working on!
Idia/reader
in which he can’t see the screen.
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“—damn! Again?! Isn’t that the same place as last time, too?” You sighed from your position on Ignihyde’s floor, shoving your hand into a bag of chips as you glanced back over your shoulder at your gaming partner. “You okay back there, Idia? Do we need to stop and level grind?”
As he made eye contact with you, Idia’s face and the tips of his hair turned pink. He shifted on the couch, crossing his legs and lifting his computer into his lap. “There’s no time for that,” he mumbled, chewing on his bottom lip, “The event ends soon, and we still don’t have enough materials to craft another set of that armor—” His voice slowly trailed off as he busied himself with the on-screen menus.
You stretched a bit, twisting your body until it was easier to stare up at him from your little next of pillows on the floor. The two of you had been trying this raid even for hours with no luck. Now, if you had been playing this game by yourself, or even if you’d used the lobby to team up with randos, your lack of success would make perfect sense— but no, you were playing with Idia. That’s what made this string of failures so suspicious.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Idia?”
He huffed, and a strand of hair went flying away from his face. “I’m fine,” he said, although it didn’t sound very convincing. One of his hands came up to comb his flickering bangs from his eyes, but the blue embers were insistent on hanging directly in his line of sight.
No wonder you guys kept losing— he couldn’t see the screen.
Laying there propped up on your side, you watched Idia for a quiet moment, enjoying the soft sounds of his keyboard as he blatantly tried to avoid looking at you. His long blue hair cascading down his shoulders, flickering endlessly as his delicate hands continued to brush it aside, the flames melding at his touch—
Your own fingers twitched. What did his hair feel like?
Idia glanced up at you from underneath his bangs. His hair changed color again, more soft threads of pink appearing when he realized he still had your attention. His painted mouth pulled into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that! We only lost because of RNG— let’s try again.”
“Let’s take a break, actually,” you stretched again, finally pulling yourself up onto your knees, trying to rub the screen-strain from your eyes.
Idia winced at even the slightest rejection, but he nodded, setting his computer down on the couch cushions and vaguely turning in your direction. “—what are we doing now, then? A different game? A movie?”
“Don’t you think you need a haircut?”
Idia jolted backwards immediately, his spine pressed into the back of the couch, eyes going wide as his hair paled to almost the same shade as his skin. “St— hey, stay back! No scissors!”
A beat of silence, followed by a laugh that bubbled its way out of your throat. You almost doubled over at the expression on his face. “That’s not what I meant!” It took a moment for you to catch your breath, but as soon as you did, you waved off Idia’s concerns. “I’m just making conversation, Idia. You should try it sometime.”
Without waiting for a response, you untangled yourself from your nest of pillows sprawled across the floor, stepping over to where you’d dropped your bag hours ago. Idia’s eyes widened yet again as he watched you fumbling through your bag, clearly looking for something specific. “...Hey, you’re not gonna—”
“Calm down,” you said gently. Once your hands closed around what you were looking for, you pulled them from your bag slowly, as if trying not to startle a skittish pet. “I’m not gonna cut your hair.”
“But you do intend to do something.” His eyes narrowed at you. No point in dodging that accusation, because it was true; you held up the bundle of personal treasures from your bag, letting Idia examine them before you made any sudden moves.
Hair ties. Decorative barrettes. That small brush you always forgot you were carrying.
“Let me put your hair up, Idia.”
The dorm leader sat quietly for a moment, his sharp eyes flickering between your hands and your face; if you looked any closer, you’d be able to see his own hands trembling. What kind of dating sim scene is this turning into—?
“Okay.” He immediately pressed a hand to his mouth, as if to catch the word before it fell. You had clearly already heard him, though— your face lit up in a way that made his chest twist.
“Really?! You’ll let me?” Honestly, you hadn’t expected him to say yes.
Idia turned his face away from you as if to hide his blush, although that did nothing against the kaleidoscope of his hair colors. “—hurry up before I change my mind!”
You nodded happily, stepping around the couch to stand behind him. He’d agreed so much easier than you’d expected, so you’d better take the chance while you have it.
Sitting in front of you, Idia shifted nervously; for someone with anxiety, being able to feel but not see a person behind him sent adrenaline through his veins, even though he knew it was just you. He began to turn his head so he could stare back at you over his shoulder, but your warm hands landed gently on the side of his face, directing him to stare forward again. “Sit still,” you chided— and then finally, you began to run your fingers through the ethereal flames he called his hair.
The first thing you noticed was that it didn’t burn. In fact, the flames weren’t even warm. You hummed in vague surprise as you twisted a few strands around your fingers, admiring the texture, memorizing the color. When the sound left your throat, Idia shifted again.
“Wh— what’s that noise supposed to mean?” He tried to sound demanding, but his voice wavered and he winced; talk about undermining himself.
“Nothing bad,” you assured him, continuing to fiddle with the ends of blue strands. “I’m just surprised— it looks like fire, but being able to touch it is just so…”
Idia leaned further back against the couch and tilted his head to look up at you, bemusement painted across his face. The movement sent his long hair shimmering like a waterfall over the back of the sofa. “Of course it’s not as hot as regular flames,” he said, “do you have any idea how uncomfortable that would be?”
You laughed lightly at that and nudged his head forward again.
You took your time running fingers through his dancing flames— never knew if you’d get this chance again, after all. As your nails gently dragged along Idia’s scalp, he let out a soft sigh and leaned back into your touch, his shades of blue beginning to flicker lavender instead. Experimentally, you began to gather as much as you could hold in one hand, to see if a ponytail would work.
When your nails gently scraped against the nape of his neck, Idia shuddered. His eyes flew open— when had he closed them?— and he jolted forward, the movement dragging his hair out of your grasp. “Watch it,” he bit out, although there was no real force behind his voice.
“Sorry, sorry,” you hummed, although it was fairly obvious you weren’t sorry at all. As Idia grumbled and settled back against the couch, you decided to move on from just playing with his hair. He’d get restless if you didn’t actually get to work, after all. You picked up your small brush in one hand, regathering his hair in the other. “Are you tender-headed?”
“...I don’t know,” he admitted, “It’s not like I brush it often.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” you said lightly. Before he could bite back, you ran the brush through Idia’s hair, and any remaining snark died on his tongue. Instead, he gasped sharply, leaning back into the feeling.
Brushing his hair was an odd feeling for both of you. His flames were, of course, tangible enough to hold, but they weighed practically nothing in your hand, and there was no resistance as your dragged the bristles through his blue waves.
For his part, Idia felt like he was actually on fire this time. Since his hair was so fluid, he’d never felt the need to pay much attention to it; the feeling of a brush was already fairly foreign to him, but knowing you were the one brushing it for him sent a current of electricity up his spine and back again.
He squirmed in place, messing up your progress. You twisted a strand between your fingers again, tugging sharply so he felt the brief sting on his scalp, earning a hiss from his throat. “Sit still,” you ordered; Idia huffed, but obeyed.
As one of your hands pulled the brush through his long hair, your other hand came up to play with the shorter strands closer to his face. Some of them were tucked behind his ear, or gathered into place where the brush could drag them along; others, you detangled with your fingers, arranging them to frame his pretty face. Your fingertips gently ghosted along the edge of his jaw and Idia shivered again.
Folded in his lap, Idia’s hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting. He tapped his fingers against his knees, he pressed his fingertips together, he folded and unfolded the hem of his shirt— all the while, his hair changed color back and forth, threads of shy pink and purple following the trail of your hands like waves returning to shore.
“—is this comfortable?” You asked quietly, as to not shattered the gentle atmosphere that had settled over his dorm room, resting on your shoulders.
Idia was silent for a moment, long enough that you almost wondered if he’d fallen asleep. When he did finally speak up, his voice sounded a bit dazed. “It’s fine.”
It was more than fine— he leaned into your touch like a cat trying to convince you it had been ignored all day. When he thought about it— and thinking straight was damn hard, with your hands in his hair— Idia couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched like this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched at all, actually.
The brush in your hands changed direction all at once. Instead of running downwards to detangle the bright embers, you twisted his hair and lifted it away from his neck, running the brush upwards along the underside, preparing to shape it into a proper ponytail. Idia couldn’t help himself— his eyes rolled, and a soft sound clawed its way out of his throat. You stopped immediately, and he could feel your presence getting heavier behind him as you leaned closer.
“Idia? Was that a—?”
“Shut up!” He bit out. He practically doubled over on the couch, propping his arms up on his knees so he could bury his face in his hands. His hair betrayed him yet again, every single lock of flame flaring the brightest pink you’d ever seen. You had to press a hand to your mouth in order to stifle a laugh.
Idia groaned into his hands. “I want to reload this scene and pick a different dialogue option.”
You bit your tongue in order to regain control of your voice. “It’s okay to enjoy this, y’know. Can I keep going?” You gently twisted another strand between your thumb and index finger, sending a wave of goosebumps across his pale skin. Idia let out a shaky breath— but in the end, he nodded, and you could feel your face light up again.
Gathering his hair in your hand once more, you brushed it into a loose ponytail at the crown of his head, gently tugging it into several different positions to decide which worked best. “Your hair is so pretty, Idia,” you hummed as you set the brush to the side. Before grabbing a hair tie, you took the chance to scratch your nails at the nape of his neck once more, messing with the tiny flickering baby embers. Idia moaned again, much less shy about the sound that time.
You combed all his hair into your hand once more, making sure you didn’t miss any of the longer strands, and then finally snatched up one of your hair ties to secure everything into place. Once that was done, your hands landed on his shoulders, making Idia jump; he tilted his head back again to stare up at you with wide eyes.
“Is that it?” he asked, a hint of confusion creeping into his voice. “That wasn’t nearly as HP-draining as I thought it would be/”
You snickered a bit and tugged on another long strand of his hair, just hard enough to earn yourself a cute little whine. “Hang on, I’ve gotta add a final touch.”
Before he could protest, you’d gathered your barrettes and hair clips and swept his bangs away from his forehead, pinning them in place with a string of colored butterflies. “There,” you said happily, “you should be able to see the screen now.”
Once you’d moved back, Idia scrambled to grab his laptop. It had fallen asleep, so the screen was dark, and he used that to examine his reflection. When he moved, his long hair swished; as he stared at his reflection, his hand came up to run his thumb across the butterfly clips.
Idia turned back to you with a huff and a pout. “Open your inventory again,” he demanded, “I want a different accessory.”
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stationintern · 2 years ago
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Hello there!
July is a rainy month here in the mountains, but these fics felt like a ray of sunshine! I’m back with another favorites list, and very proud that I remembered to do this. Let’s go!
A Savior’s Guide to Manners and Decorum - E, 13k by @wolfpants
I think putting Draco Malfoy in any sort of teaching position is a recipe for perfection. So, that was a major factor in my enjoyment of this fic. Everything I’ve read from wolfpants has been incredible (I read Nightcall at least twice a month), and this did NOT disappoint. If you like a bumbling Harry with obscure hobbies, this is the fic for you.
Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night In Soho) - E, 65k by @writcraft and @celilasart for Harry/Draco Big Bang 2018
I saw this fic recommended left and right on the Drarry writers discord, and it’s been sitting in my marked for later forever. And, boy, do I wish I’d read it earlier. The art is BEAUTIFUL. I stared at it for about ten minutes. I’m a sucker for two lost souls finding their calm together in the eye of the storm, and I’ve been yearning for another fic that explores queer history as it pertains to the magical world. In conclusion, this was everything I needed. A rainy night for a rainy season.
Grounds For Divorce - E, 122k by @tepre
This is another one of those fics that I’ve seen recommended everywhere but just hadn’t gotten to yet. Fics that cover long periods of time hold a special place in my heart, and the journey I got to experience while reading this left me breathless by the time I was finished. I can’t wait to read it again.
Up The - E, 7k by @shiftylinguini
I’m not a big mpreg reader, not for any particular reason, but this fic was so sweet. The premise was hilarious and ridiculously fitting for these two. Love an established relationship, love a nutty plan to get pregnant. Loved it.
Faint Indirections - T, 29k by ignatiustrout
It’s so fun whenever I get to explore a new city with this pair. God, this was so fucking hilarious. Watching these two communicate in the least efficient way possible tickled me and I will be thinking about this fic for a very long time.
to be a bit of warmth (for you) - M, 9k by @softlystarstruck
This was just the sweetest thing I’ve read in a very long time. The intimacy, the characterization. How the author managed to pack so much beauty into 10k words is a mystery that I thank god for every day.
on open wounds - M, 16k by asofthaven
extremely loud growling noises (positive.) read this in my honda accord while eating a quesadilla and watching drunk rodeo goers mill about the town square and felt more emotions than i’ve ever felt before in my life. thank you. thank you thank you thank you.
Everybody Hates a Tourist - E, 51k by @wolfpants for @hd-wireless 2023
As I said before, I love getting to explore a city with these two, and watching Harry find himself with a Draco who has built a life for himself is something I will never get sick of. Especially when every bit of it is absolutely baffling for Harry. So excited to find out who wrote this. I enjoyed every second of it. (Should’ve known it was wolfpants! So, so good!)
Well, that’s all for now, folks! These fics helped with my July gloom, and I’m so thankful for all the wonderful writers in this community who gift us these beautiful stories.
See you next month with more recs!
xx, Moon.
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metalnecklace · 2 years ago
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There Was Heaven In Your Eyes
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Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (plus size)
Word Count: 3358
Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Threats of Non-Con, Threats of Violence
Notes: Here’s the first official chapter! Thank you for all the feedback so far. Javi isn’t in the next two chapters as much, but we’ll get there. Also in case anyone missed the tags, the reader is plus sized. She is mentioned as having curves, and later on there is discussion about her weight and clothing issues and whatnot. Other than that the only description of her is that she is female presenting.
Masterlist
Chapter 1
Two Years Earlier
“Fuck,” I groaned, pressing my fingers to my temples.
I had been searching for teaching jobs everywhere, and I meant everywhere. My hands were shaking as I struggled to sort through the piles of ads on my kitchen table, while I tried not to let the mix of sweat and fear bother me while it stuck my hair to the nape of my neck. At that point I didn’t care where I worked as long as I could get out of Canada. Fast.
The idea of starting over scared the shit out of me, but it had to be done. I had worked so hard to climb the financial ladder in order to get to the top of my position, which was huge for a woman in my field, and I had married a wonderful man. My future was laid out for me and wrapped with a shiny bow. Until…
I shook my head and resumed searching, as there was no point strolling down memory lane thinking about what could have been. I had to think about what was going to be.
Finally my eyes landed on an ad.
‘Wanted: Teachers with any experience, preferably English speaking.’
“Any experience?” I thought aloud as my eyes further down the page.
It was short, but sweet. Due to political tensions there was a lack of teachers in Colombia, so they had begun looking elsewhere. The one that specified English speaking ones happened to be in a place called Bogotà. I hadn’t really heard of that place before, but I kept my eye on the news enough to know what they meant by political tensions in Colombia. Everybody knew what they meant.
I didn’t have much time to weigh the pros and cons, and instead rushed to my room to pack my life into the only two suitcases I owned before I could rush off to the airport. I couldn’t seem to fully breathe until I was seated and the airplane finally took off toward my new life. It was a long flight, but I welcomed the newfound safe space where I could finally close my eyes and rest for the first time in what felt like forever.
With my newspaper in hand and my luggage tucked away in a seedy motel, I marched up to the front doors of where I hoped would be my safe haven. Turns out the school wanted to know even less about me than I had been comfortable telling them. They just wanted someone who could keep their head down, remain non judgemental toward the students and their parents, and could do their best when teaching a new language while trying to learn theirs.
It sounded too good to be true, but I couldn’t afford to turn back. I sealed my fate that morning and went about the rest of the day finding a cheap apartment that was within walking distance to my new job.
Within a few months I had started feeling more and more comfortable with my new role as an English teacher in a school that needed discretion and hope more than I did. Many of the parents were involved in situations that I didn’t even want to begin to think about, but their children got to escape and be with their friends while in my care. The only childcare experience I had previous was babysitting my younger sister's children. She was my only family after our parents had died in our teens, but unfortunately life had gotten too busy and outside forces prevented me from seeing her much. It had been at least three years since the last time we had spoken.
My heart ached when I would recognize my nieces faces in the joy and sorrow of my students, but I poured what love I could offer into them and helped them as much as I could.
One of the children in my class had a father who only showed up every once in a while, but the rumours that had spread throughout the faculty were terrifying. He seemed non-threatening, just a little too comfortable talking to the teachers, including myself, at a very close range. Personal space clearly wasn’t his thing, but apparently working for the cartel was. There were whispers that he was one of the higher ups, but I tried to keep my head down and focus on just getting by.
Until one day when he came to pick up his son. He was acting particularly flighty, his eyes shifting every which way. I usually got the chance to tell him how his son had been doing in school, even though I wasn’t sure he fully understood English, but that day he barely said hello. Almost as soon as his car sped off another vehicle pulled up just outside the front doors of the school.
From my classroom windows I could see two men getting out and making their way inside. One was a tall blonde, who looked like he came straight from the states, considering he stuck out like a sore thumb. The other was also tall, though didn’t look it next to his partner, but he definitely fit in more with the locals with his dark brown mop and matching mustache nestled above his plush lips. As they walked through the doors it was hard not to let my eyes linger down the second man’s loose button up that was tucked deliciously into jeans that fit him like a goddamn glove. I definitely didn’t miss the flash of a gun that was held snugly into the back of his pants.
I shook my head the second the door closed behind them, and made my way back to the front of my classroom. I felt ridiculous practically drooling over another man especially after everything that happened, but I just couldn’t help it. Just as I had my thoughts gathered there was a knock at the door. I turned my head and standing in the doorway was the second man I was trying to forget.
“Perdón por la interrupción, Señorita.” (Sorry for the interruption). The mustache was even more impressive up close, as were his lips, and his deep chocolate eyes that I felt could see right through me.
“Lo siento, no hablo español,” I muttered. (I’m sorry, I don’t speak Spanish). I was used to the phrase by now, even though I had picked up some of the language by now I certainly wasn’t anywhere near fluent. But even with this practiced sentence I felt as though my tongue was too thick to wrap around the letters, especially after watching the way his lips formed around each word. My knees felt weak, and not just because of the badge he held in his hand.
“Of course, my apologies,” he said, his voice smooth like hard liquor, with a hint of smoke and gravel, I was almost waiting for the bite. He held up his badge so I could see he was official. “Agent Javier Peña, DEA.”
I felt a weight I didn’t know I was carrying melt off of my shoulders. Drug Enforcement, which meant he wasn’t here for me. At least not in the way I was worried about.
“I’m wondering if you could confirm whether a certain student is in your classroom,” he spoke so gently I felt comforted, but I wasn’t going to give in.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give that information away.”
He smiled and leaned against the doorway, bringing his head down closer to me. At the nearly intimate movement I could feel a heat creeping up my chest that I knew would blossom into a blush. He knew what he was doing.
“Please, Miss, call me Javi.” I was almost expecting a wink to punctuate his sentence.
“Well, Agent,” I bit back, “I cannot give any information about these students to anybody who isn’t their caregivers.”
I didn’t want to be on this guy's bad side, but I also wanted to keep both the children safe and my job. They weren’t just pawns in the ugly game their parents and government were playing. It was rare that my students had a voice speaking up for them, an advocate for them. When I signed up for the job I was signing up to be just that.
He nodded and dragged his eyes down my body before snapping back up. His jaw was working with frustration over my refusal to back down, but he finally stood back up to his full height.
“Alright then,” he spoke firmly, but still gentle enough that I knew he was more frustrated than angry. “Have a good day.”
He turned to walk away but not before pausing and reaching into his pocket. In between his fingers was a thick card, which he then held out to me. I took the card with his full name stamped along the top, and what I assumed was his number printed along the middle. Even though I had grabbed onto the card he still held it firmly in his fingers, causing me to look up and once again be lost in his dark eyes.
“If you need anything, ever, please do not hesitate to call.”
I bit my lip and nodded. I didn’t miss the way his eyes left mine for a split second to glance at my lips before returning. He nodded back and left. I finally took a deep breath, feeling the stretch of my lungs inflating fully for the first time since I laid eyes on the man.
I returned to my desk and sat down to finish up marking while the remaining students continued their steady chatter while they awaited their parents. The card felt heavy in my hands, but I knew it wasn’t because of the actual weight of the paper. I reached over to the garbage can but hesitated, wondering if it really was the smartest idea to throw away what might be my one lifeline. Almost as if I could sense his eyes on me I looked out the window and saw him watching my classroom before climbing into the passenger seat of his vehicle. With that last glance of Agent Javier Peña I decided better and took out my wallet. I folded his card up as small as I could and tucked it away. I hoped I would never have to call that number, but something told me I couldn’t get rid of it yet.
That evening as I was leaving work I realized I didn’t have a lot of groceries at home. Unfortunately that meant I had to stop at the market, even though it was later than I had wanted. I took too long marking and ended up doing some more stuff around the classroom than I usually get the time to do, but that meant I got carried away. By the time I left there was only one other car in the parking lot other than mine. Everyone else had gone home, I assumed the other car belonged to one of the cleaning staff.
The market was pretty empty, only a few other shoppers moved around with glazed over eyes clearly exhausted from their workday. I absentmindedly threw ingredients into my cart that were easy to prepare quickly that night. I was too exhausted to even think about putting effort into a full meal, grateful that at least the weekend was in a few days.
All of a sudden a cart bumped against mine. I went to apologize even though it wasn’t my fault, but the words died in my throat when I saw who the person was.
“Hola.” The father of one of my students, Luis, the one in the cartel, stood barricading my cart against the shelves in the aisle. His smile was slimy, almost oozing against his face. I didn’t trust him one bit.
“Hi, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I said, flustered. I tried to move back to get away but he stepped forward with me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His smile grew bigger, taunting.
I shook my head and stepped away from my cart. He stepped to the side of his and pulled back his shirt enough to reveal a gun nestled into the front of his jeans. My hands started to tremble and I found I couldn’t focus on anything but the hint of metal in front of me. He nodded his head toward the exit, and I found myself following him without a second thought, leaving my cart abandoned in the aisle.
He led me out to a car in the parking lot that I recognized immediately as the one that had been at the school when I left. I mentally kicked myself for not recognizing it before, but it was too common of a car to have pinpointed exactly who the owner was, especially since I hadn’t seen anyone inside of it.
I was shoved into the backseat before I had time to think about what was going to happen to me. Luis slid into the driver's seat and took off, tires squealing against the road and into the night. I sat up and tried to get my wits about me, but the sound of a gun cocking drew my attention back to the driver.
“Keep your head down and your mouth shut, mi amor,” he spoke harshly, the nickname making my stomach turn. “Eres toda mía.” (You’re all mine)
I did as I was told, but considered whether getting shot would really be the worst thing, especially compared to whatever he had in store for me. Before I could come to a final decision the car lurched onto a dirt road, away from any street lights or other cars. We were truly going to be alone.
Tears sprang to my eyes but I refused to let him see me cry. It was obvious I was helpless and doomed to whatever fate he had in store for me, but I wouldn’t let him see any amount of weakness. I would become a fortress if I could not fight.
The car finally came to a stop and Luis jumped out, running to get to my door. He threw it open and wrenched my arm out, pulling the rest of me to the ground. My skin stung where it made contact with the rough surface, but he had pulled me to my feet before I could think about it any further.
Before us laid a house that was not modest in the slightest. I had to wonder who it belonged to, considering he would probably wear nicer clothes if he could afford a mansion.
“Vamos mi amor,” he snarled, still tugging me along by my wrist, his grip bruising.
My heart was beating in my ears and I couldn’t feel my legs as they carried me closer and closer to the large wooden doors ahead of us. When we got there Luis pushed the doors open with a bang, startling the men behind them. They turned to us, raising their guns before sighing and lowering them once more.
“Oh, Luis, hija de puta,” one of the men said. (Son of a bitch/whore).
Another stepped over and looked at me. I struggled to keep my head held high under his examination and Luis' powerful grip.
“El Patrón no le gustarà está,” he snarled. (The Boss won’t like this.) “¿Dónde encontraste éste?” (Where did you find this one?)
Luis gripped my arm even tighter, in a punishing amount of strength.
“¿Por qué?¿Estás celoso?” He sneered and pulled me off to the side, toward an open door leading into a dark room. (Why? Are you jealous?)
In the middle of the room was a small bed that clearly had only been used for what I was assuming he wanted to do with me. He threw me onto it, the mattress so thin I could feel the springs under my body, and then he slammed the door. I could no longer hear anybody on the other side.
“Finally, it’s just you and me,” he nearly slurred. His accent was thick as he punched out each word. He climbed onto the bed and over me, pinning my wrists above my head. My nose wrinkled automatically as his pungent smell of body odour and bad breath invaded my senses. “Do you know how bad I’ve wanted this? To touch these curves?”
I was surprised by how strong he was as he held my wrists in one hand and stroked his other hand over my waist. I twisted my body, trying to get away but his hold was like iron.
“You don’t get to get away, I’ve worked hard for this,” he growled and slapped my cheek causing my head to turn sharply toward the thin pillow it rested on. I gasped in shock, my body suddenly going pliant. “Stay still, puta!”
The next thing I heard was the drag of his zipper as a tear slid down my cheek, and then the door busted open causing us both to jump. A gunshot rang through my ears before I felt a thick, warm liquid drip onto my face. My eyes had squeezed shut and refused to open while my whole body shook in fear.
I felt lighter once the body that had been pinning me down had dropped to the side, then onto the floor with a wet smack. I couldn’t stop shaking even then, still not opening my eyes. My breaths were ragged, ripping through my throat and getting caught in choked sobs that I couldn’t hold back any longer.
A hand landed gentle and warm on my cheek.
“Abre los ojos. Open your eyes.” The voice that spoke was unfamiliar, and surprisingly gentle. I obeyed and immediately felt a new flood of fear. I recognized the man, the monster, that knelt beside me stroking my cheek.
Pablo Escobar.
I remember seeing pictures of him in the paper and on my television before moving to Bogotà, and then seeing his face on almost everything else after. Then, he was right in front of my face.
I scrambled to the edge of the bed, trying to put distance between us, ignoring the dead body that was still lying on the floor.
“No hay que tener miedo,” his voice was rough, and rumbled through the room.
“He says there’s no need to be afraid,” another voice, higher and not as threatening, came from the corner of the room. One of the men who had been standing by the front door was still holding his gun, keeping his eyes on Pablo.
Pablo smiled at me, but I didn’t believe him. There were many reasons to be afraid, one of them was still warm and lying on the floor.
“Siento que este idiota te haya traído aquí,” he said looking in the direction of Luis.
“He’s sorry this idiot brought you here,” his translator said.
“¿Que hago contigo?” He looked at me once more, almost waiting for my reply to his question. (What do I do with you?)
I furrowed my brows and looked to the man in the corner.
“He’s unsure about what to do. Luis didn’t follow protocol. One of our lookouts could see that you were in the backseat without a blindfold, meaning you know where this place is.” He took a step toward me, his gun still held tightly. “You’re a liability.”
I shook my head frantically. “N-no I promise I won’t tell anybody, I didn’t really see much. I was too scared and it’s nighttime and I’m new here.” I could feel myself growing more and more hysterical.
Pablo reached down to the floor and lifted up my purse. It must have fallen when I was pushed onto the bed but I hadn’t even noticed. He handed it over to me.
“I heard you’re a good teacher,” he said, hesitating over a few words.
I nodded.
“Tal vez hay un uso para usted después de todo,” he smiled.
(Perhaps there’s a use for you after all.)
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woneuntonzz · 1 year ago
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hypothesis || smau — c.s, j.wy
➤ chapter 10 (back to chapters)
highschool senior!san x highschool senior!reader x highschool senior!wooyoung
contains: written chapter, fluff, humor, jealousy (low degree), highschool au, reader is named & afab
» Three good friends, and two infatuated people —infatuated with each other? maybe, who knows...
more under the cut .ᐟ -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈
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(wc: 1.6k!!)
You woke up feeling extra motivated, why wouldn’t you when you're about to see San again after a while of not seeing him. Firstly, you’d get done with your morning classes, your teachers finding you too be surprisingly active. Then your last class before lunch, PE. It was quite an undesirable placement for everyone who had it on that schedule, but hey, it shouldn’t be too bad if you’re meeting your crush right after, right?
“Alright kids, settle down. Please find yourself your partners. We will do a couple of assisted exercises today…” your PE teacher’s next words became a blur to you.
Your eyes were all set on Yuri, but she was pulled away by Winter and the two would only smile at you like you’re some little girl they refused to buy girl scout cookies from. Just as you were about to just give up and wait until your teacher called for the students that didn’t have a partner, someone comes through the door of the gymnasium, opening it just enough to let himself in. 
“Choi San, you’re late —I don’t really care but hurry up and get yourself a partner.” everyone’s attention went to him when your gym teacher announced his arrival. 
You smiled to yourself, seeing that some of his friends were in the same class, you looked past him. He’d probably choose Yunho or Yeosang as his partner.
“Hi Sab!” you couldn’t believe your eyes, San stood right in front of you wearing a white fitted tee and your school’s PE pants. 
“Hi San! Is there anything I can help you with?” he nods to your question. 
“Yeah, I was wondering if it was okay with you if we’re partners for today. Also, I don’t know what we need partners for.” your eyes go —just a little— wide when you’re finally able to fully process what he had just asked you. 
“Oh, um, of course —and Mr. Seo said we’re doing some assisted exercises today.” you reply.
San was now your PE partner, it was just for today, but the amount of girls in the class that wished they could be in your place cannot be counted with your fingers alone. You avoid looking at anyone else, scared to meet any of their watchful —and nosy— eyes. 
Everyone got ready and lined up, firstly warming up before the actual exercise. You felt bad for staring at San’s figure from your peripheral vision, seeing how well his shirt encloses his body. Your teacher would again call for everyone’s attention, instructing all of you to get started. 
Your teacher would show them video demonstrations first, and then they will simultaneously attempt at least two sets per each person. 
“Do you want to go first or should I go first?” San asks you, creating a proximity between you two that made you feel like screaming your soul away.
“You go first.” you were surprised you were still able to utter that. 
The first exercise is standard curl-ups. San would position himself, looking straight up at the ceiling as you settled yourself at his foot. The teacher signals everybody to start with a blow of his whistle. You kept your hands over San’s feet, and for some reason you felt withdrawn from giving your whole weight onto it. 
He sits up for the first time, lifting his back off the floor. You backed up a bit as his face got close to yours. Before he gets back down, he says, “Thank you Sab.”
You blink a couple of times, slightly perplexed. “Thanks too, I guess. I didn’t think we’d be partners today.”
He chuckles, going briefly before rising back up. “Well, I hope you know I’m thanking you for listening to me and my problems.” he went back down, then up again, “It really made me feel a lot better. I usually never open up that much, unless it’s with—” he does another sit up. “Wooyoung or Seonghwa —and Yeosang on occasion.” 
You could only nod, watching his body fall and catch itself, rising back up to meet your gaze. 
“Okay, now everybody, switch positions with their partners.”
San got up from the mat, waiting for you to position yourself before he went down to hold on your feet. 
For a minute, you’d take your time to rethink your life decisions. You don’t remember the last time you’ve done curl-ups, or if you’ve even done one before. You crossed your arms over your chest, left hand on your right shoulder and vice versa. 
You were on the ground for a while, and you’d feel anxious seeing that everyone else had already started. “Sab, you okay?”
“Um, yeah.” you attempt to sit-up, and your chest would eventually come close to your knees, “Haven’t done this in a while.”
The corners of his lips rose to a sweet smile, and it caused you to let your body fall back to the ground, with some unnecessary impact. “Sab, are you sure you’re fine?”
You force yourself back up, the struggle visible on your face. “Yep, fine as wine.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. Use your core strength.” it was easier said than done, but the more you did it —more meaning one more time— you got the hang of it. “That’s it! you’re doing great.”
You rise from the floor for the last time before the whistle blows. When you had sat up, you kept your eyes on your knees, like what you’ve been doing the whole time. But when you heard the sound of the whistle, your eyes wandered up to meet San’s stare. It took you by surprise, your eyes inching open by the way he was looking at you. Maybe it was you “being delusional”, but a part of you hoped it was something. You shake your head, breaking eye contact with him. 
You don’t know if you’re crazy or if he really did chuckle again, but it was a fact that he stood first and helped you off the floor, with a gentle grip on your hand reducing the weight you had to carry to stand up. 
“Thanks.” your voice turned small, almost inaudible.
When you glanced at him, he was just smiling at you, and his eyes were smiling too. 
\\
Wooyoung had been anticipating this time of the day ever since he stepped foot on their school. Lunch time —and for a very particular reason. He was waiting for his best friend who had just come back from being away for a couple of days, and of course, his bff.
Wooyoung stepped out of his microbiology class, and he’d dropped his textbook and notebook on the ground on the way out. As he picked it up, his phone lit up in his hands. It displayed a message notification.
my kitty daddy 😍😍😍: sab and i are already headed to the cafeteria
my kitty daddy 😍😍😍: we’ll save you a seat! —your bff
“Oh, they’re with each other already?” he mumbles to himself as he continues to walk off.
He stopped by his locker to put away a few of his stuff, then he headed straight to the cafeteria. He faced no difficulty spotting you and San. For a while, he feels anxious. It was odd for him, you were both special to him, just in two completely distinct aspects. He thought about you having a crush on San, and even indirectly admitting to it. He isn’t even sure if you realize that he’s got you all figured out —well at least that’s what he thinks— since you haven’t picked up on his very obvious flirting. 
“Woo!” he felt his heartbeat escalate after hearing you call for him.
He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face as he walked over to your table. He sat down next to you, leaving you in between the two of them. He noticed that you were both wearing PE attire, and so he’d ask, “You two had PE?”
You sigh heavily, still feeling some exhaustion from the prior exercises. “Yep.”
“That’s unfortunate.” he laughed a bit when he saw your face contort at his remark. 
“Not really, we were exercise partners.” San utters before taking a bite of his food. “She did exceptionally well.”
“That’s exaggerating! but thank you.” you giggled before taking a bite of your own food. 
Wooyoung could only watch as the two of you conversed and laughed, it took him a minute to realize that he hadn’t even gotten his food yet. When he came back from the food queue, you were giving San the hug you promised —but of course, Wooyoung didn’t know that, did he? Still, he chose to pretend to be unbothered by everything, taking his first bite and almost spitting it out when he saw just how close you and San were —in his mind, it was way too close for comfort, his comfort that is.
Before he could get all sulky, you nudged at him to get his attention, telling him, “We’re so back.”
He suppressed a laugh —if he were being honest, he didn’t really quite understand what you meant. “Hell yeah we are.”
Maybe you were pertaining to this blossoming trio you had going on, but half of his mind took him to a place where all he could think about is your little —or maybe not so little— crush on San. He chose to shake his head away from his thoughts, feeling bad that he had that running on his mind when his best friend had just come back from a very rough week of sorrows. Maybe it was mere coincidence, but he and San meet eyes, and San would smile at him. It eased him off of his worries, and soon he was laughing along with the two of you. 
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