#He was making intense eye contact during the whole interview
Text
I’m rewatching this fan forum from Australia GP and boy was HE FLIRTING with her. THE UP AND DOWN LOOK to this day gets me
#lewis hamilton#lh#lewishamilton#44#He was making intense eye contact during the whole interview#But thinking about moving here and looking at her like that???#I can cook#I can clean
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Feel The Music
Warnings: 18+, threesome, DP, p in the v (also p in the b), ALLLLLLLL the smut, everything, absolutely filthy. MINORS IF YOU ARE HERE I WILL COME THROUGH THIS SCREEN AND SLAP YOU BACK INTO YOUR MOTHER
............
It had been a long day of meetings, interviews and rehearsing. Jake wanted to run through everything one more time before heading back to the hotel for the night. You opted to stay with him for company. The crew and everyone else called it quits about an hour and a half ago.
Touring with the band as an assistant, you ended up being more of a friend to the guys than you were an employee.
After cleaning up the mess in the dressing room, you found Jake in his usual spot on stage, so focused that he didn't even notice you. You found yourself wandering the stage, plopping yourself behind his amps. This is normally where Danny's drum tech sat, readily available during the whole show. You spun around on the stool before a riff stopped you dead in your tracks.
The vibrations from the amplifiers running through your body were going straight to your core.
"Jakey. Jakeeeee," you shouted. But he couldn't hear you. He continued to play, his eyes screwed shut in focus. You could see the way his back muscles moved with every strum. Every note. You could feel yourself soaking through your panties.
Looking around at the dark side stage you spun back around, leaning against the amps. Surely he would still be another 30 minutes. What's 1 minute to yourself?
Your fingertips danced atop your bare thighs, pulling your green sundress up higher. You peeked over your shoulder at Jake as he continued to play and resumed your position on the chair. Opening your legs wider, you grazed over your clothed core. Sucking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you felt how wet you were.
You let the music carry your movements. Circling your clit lightly and parting your lips in response. You tipped your head back to rest along the backside of the amp, feeling even more of the vibrations. Picking up speed you let out a small moan, halting your movements in hopes that Jake wouldn't hear you and know what you were up to. As he continued to play, moving into the most intense solo of the setlist, you yanked your panties to the side and slid a finger through your folds. Lightly pushing two fingers into yourself just the way you liked. Using your left hand, you continued the fast paced circles on your bundle, driving yourself mad.
You opened your eyes and standing at the back of the stage with his mouth nearly on the floor was Sam. Your eyes went wide in panic but you couldn't stop. You were so close. You thrust your fingers inside of yourself at the same pace of Jake's solo. Never breaking eye contact. You wanted to hide yourself away. You knew this was wrong, but maybe it was a heat of the moment thing.
You nodded your head towards him, signaling for him to come closer. He hesitated before slowly walking towards you. His eyes shooting from yours to your hands and back up again. You swore you almost saw his dick twitch. He knelt in front of you. And just as Jake's solo came to a finish, so did you. Your orgasm taking over you so violently you started to let out a moan before Sam pressed the palm of his hand against your mouth, silencing you.
Your eyes searched his and as you moved your hands away, he leaned in to your ear.
"If you stay quiet he won't know a thing." He growled. You nodded your understanding and pushed your underwear off your legs. Sam picked them up and tucked them into his jeans pocket. He removed his palm from your mouth but instead pushed his thumb past your lips. "Fuck, Y/N. You naughty girl. Getting yourself off to my brother playing. That's hot."
You swirled your tonge around his digit as his other hand slid up your leg. Popping his thumb out of your mouth you whisper in his ear, "Sammy, can you make me cum again? Please. Please- I-"
Just as soon as the words leave your mouth, his fingers are circling your clit again. Sending you lurching forward away from the amp. His left hand is splayed out on your chest, holding you against the amp.
"You are going to have to stay still or else he will notice." He slides a finger into your pussy. "Fuck, you're tight."
He adds another, his fingers stretching you out more than your own. The callouses on his figertips are just the perfect amount of rough. Thrusting them in and out of you faster.
"Dirty little girl. Come on. Cum for me. Cum for Jake." His words are swirling around in your head and you are thrown into your next orgasm. Unfortunately this time, you don't realize Jake is done playing in time to stop the moan that slips past your lips.
......
"What the fuck." Jake says as he peers over the top of his amps. Looking down at you, his assistant and one of his best friends...being finger fucked by his brother.
Sam pulls out of you and smirks up at Jake. "Someone was having a little fun by herself. Getting off to you playing when I found her. Figured I'd help." Your cheeks flush red with embarrassment.
You brush the skirt of your dress back down and stand up. "Jake- I- I'm-"
"Y/N," Jake says as he slings his guitar off his shoulder and llaces it in the stand. "You were getting yourself off to MY playing?"
You look down at your feet. "Yes. I was. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." You feel tears ready to roll past your lashes and quickly go to move past him. He grabs your arm and pulls you into his chest. The smell of sweat and cologne taking over your senses.
"It's my turn." Jake pushes his glasses on top of his head and pulls you into a deep kiss. He intertwines his fingers in yours and drags you towards the dressing room down the hall. Shouting over his shoulder, "You coming, Sammy?" And not a moment later, Sam is on your heels.
You barely have a chance to realize what has happened before Jake has you pressed up against the wall. "Say no and it'll stop, okay?"
"Yes. Ok. But please. Someone touch me." You gasp as he sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up your soaked core.
Sam lounges back on the couch, watching. Waiting.
You knew Jake was good with his fingers. His playing showed that. But his mouth was incredible. Sucking your clit into his mouth and rolling his tongue against it made your knees buckle. You felt yourself getting closer as your hands tangled into his hair.
"Jakeeee," you whined. "Please. Please cane I cum?"
He breaks away for a moment. Your whining and moaning coninuing. "Oh NOW you want to ask my permission? To cum in my presence? Fine. Do it. Cum in my mouth then." He resumes his attck on your cunt. And with a few more circles of his tongue, your thighs shut around the side of his head, trembling.
"YES Thank you, Jake," you yell out. Your legs feel weak and he scoops you up and brings you to the couch. Placing you in between the both of them. You feel exhausted and your chest is rising and falling rapidly.
Sam pulls you over to straddle his lap. Kissing your exposed chest and neck. "Think you got one more in you?" You nod a yes. And he lifts you up enough to push his jeans down and pull his cock out.
You line yourself up and slowly sink down onto him. Both of you moaning at the feeling. You unbuttom his shirt and splay your hands out on his toned chest. Letting you move at your own pace, Sam lounges back into the armrest of the couch.
As your start to ride him, you feel Jakes hands sneak around your waist and pull your dress up and over your head. Your breasts bouncing with every movement. He kisses along your spine, up your shoulders and neck until he get's to your ear.
"What do you want, baby?" He growls low.
"I- I want you both. At the same time." Your eyes shoot down to Sam who has his fingers interlocked behind his head. A smirk playing at his lips.
"Dirty girl likes to play. Go ahead Jake. If that's what the lady wishes for." Sam says nonchalantly.
"I'm going to go slow. I don't want to hurt you." Jake says and you nod. Behind you, you can hear him undo his belt and push his jeans down. He spits on his hand and runs it up and down his length. "Okay, are you ready?" You stop your movements on Sam's cock and nod.
Jake pushes you down towards Sam's chest, giving him an easier angle. Sam takes the opportunity to grab your face and kiss you. Licking into your mouth. Spreading your ass, Jake eases into your rear slowly. You moan into Sam's mouth and clench around the both of them.
A low "fuck" escaping Jake as he stills inside you, now all the way to the hilt. Letting you adjust, Sam slowly moves his hips. You gasp at the fullness. "Please, Jakey, please." You beg.
Jake and Sam slowly thrust into you. Making sure you are ok and aren't hurt. You start to move your hips with theirs and moans start escaping your lips. Begging them to keep going, faster.
Jake grabs your hips and thrusts harder into you. You throw your head back in pleasure. Sam below you is absolutely in awe, watching your fucked out expression change as your get closer to your end. He decides to cirle your clit with his thumb again.
"God yes, Sammy. Please."
"Give it to us, baby. Let go. One more, you can do it." Jake whispers behind you. With a few more swirls of your clit, you are thrown over the edge of your orgasm. Followed by the both of them, spilling into you. Filling you up. You lean your head back against Jake's chest as your eyebrows knit together and you cum again immediately. Screaming their names.
"Fucking hell," Sam says below you. Eyes blown wide with lust.
Jake is the first to pull out of you, slowly. And then he helps Sam lift you off of him before carrying you to the en suite bathroom.
The three of you climb into the shower, absolutely exhausted and in shock of how the events even transpired.
You get shy all of a sudden. Realizing what has officially happened. Sam noticing right away takes your lower jaw and tilts it up to his face before giving you a soft kiss. Jake starts to wash your hair gently.
"Don't even start to apologize, Y/n." Jake says, "it was perfect."
You continue on in blissful silence in the shower, letting them take care of you before stepping out and throwing on an extra pair of clothes Jake had in his bag.
............
#greta van fleet#gvf#jake kiszka#gvf fanfiction#jake kiszka fanfic#greta van fleet smut#jake kiszka smut#sam kiszka smut
196 notes
·
View notes
Text
SO ABOUT KRIST. \:D/
I'm not sure how many people have seen this photo or know the context behind it.
It was taken by a fan (see watermark) at the final episode premiere for Be My Favorite in August. After we finished watching the episode, Krist and Gawin walked down the aisles of the theater singing their duet, and then they went to the front stage to give their closing speeches. Most of us expected Krist to cry because it doesn't take a lot to make that happen on a normal day. But a fan event for a series that he put his heart and soul into? That he had resting on his shoulders since it was announced in late 2021? Certified, guaranteed, written in stone.
Even expecting it, though, didn't prepare me for seeing Krist cry in person. Especially when it wasn't the crying I'm used to seeing from him. I didn't even need to understand what he was saying to feel affected by it. Being in the theater, hearing him struggle to speak, assuming what he must be talking about, hearing how absolutely earnest every word was, that was enough.
I read the translation later. Krist was talking about Gawin. That he's always wanted the focus of the series to be on Gawin, because it was Gawin's first main role, and Krist felt like he'd taint it. In the past six months, Krist has said more than once that his greatest achievement from Be My Favorite was meeting Gawin. In another interview, he said he didn't care if no one watched the series because he has Gawin in his life now, and that means more to him than the success of his work. He said meeting Gawin changed him and made him grow up.
I always knew that Krist would be good for Gawin's career. From the moment I saw the casting announcement, I knew that Krist would do what he does with all of his friends and colleagues: promote him, hype him, celebrate him. I just had no idea how close they would become. That they would both find strength in each other, and that they would develop the incredibly close friendship they have now.
And, man…ever since I saw that photo up there where Gawin is listening with tears in his eyes as his close friend and admired senior talks about him with such affection and respect, my disappointment in everyone who continues to spread misinformed hate against Krist is so much deeper.
But it's also calmer.
Because it won't last.
Krist is so widely loved by the people in his life and the people he's worked with, and he's so effusively loving in return. And I think more and more people are starting to see that. He cares so intensely all the time and he allows so much of his vulnerability to show, and he listens to people.
So whenever I see people scoffing, "How does he even have fans?" I know they haven't actually looked into who he is. I know they watched a TikTok or a YouTube video with the same five things taken out of context and it just doesn't hold up when you actually see him.
Because this is who he is:
At MUSICON, he and Gawin did a meet and greet, and this fan shared her experience talking to Krist. She had so much she wanted to say, but she couldn't stop crying, and he patted her gently on the shoulder to comfort her. She said he kept kindly looking into her eyes while she spoke, and she finished by hoping more and more people get to know him.
He's one of GMMTV's top stars who makes eye contact with his fans and engages with them. He's popular enough that he could just coast during these fan events, but he wants to listen and interact with his fans. He remembers us.
And, like, I already did a whole thing about how he's not homophobic.
Like, seriously, he isn't. During his solo concert in Cambodia, he made a beeline to this fanboy and giddily danced with him the same as he did with the women in the audience. And he wasn't the only guy he danced with, either.
Krist also got hit on in an airport by a whole European dude years ago and he was delighted. The dimple came out to play and everything.
There comes a point when people who say "he's just pretending he isn't homophobic to make money" start to sound like they just really, really want Krist to be homophobic because otherwise they have been mercilessly tormenting him for years over misinformation they didn't care enough to look into.
The man described his love scene with Gawin in Be My Favorite as a piece of art. Like. I think it's abundantly clear that he's not the monster interfans invented just to throw knives at.
So anyway.
Back to Gawin.
I'm glad Krist has Gawin in his life. Gawin who sees him, who appreciates him, and who gives back just as much affection as Krist gives to him.
And who honest-to-God looks like he wants to protect Krist just as much as any of us do.
So yeah!
I like Krist.
I think he's neat. \:D/
(And I totally hope he'll let Gawin and Singto do a skit making light of all the ship wars during his concert next weekend. GawinSingto jokes, come to me.)
118 notes
·
View notes
Text
Carc Primer : come meet the Spanish boyfriends
Marc Marquez, MotoGP rider. Carlos Sainz, F1 driver. Two Spaniards of the same generation who were brought together by various circumstances and who are now very good friends, as demonstrated below.
NATIONAL SPORTS AWARDS 2015
Oldest photos of them I could find are from the 17th of November 2015 when they attended the National Sports Awards in Madrid.
HONDA / RED BULL
Marc has spent his whole carreer with Honda. Carlos was a RB junior driver and then drove for Toro Rosso up until 2017. I couldn't find more content than what you have right after (from pre-season 2016, you can see more pictures here).
ESTRELLA GALICIA
The Estrella Galicia 0,0 Youtube channel is a gift. They had Carlos and Marc in the same commercial but separately in July of 2015 (video) and June of 2016 (video).
We can see them on screen at the same time on this video from March of 2017.
In 2018, they shot this beautiful thing.
(gifs source by @rookie-ofthe-year)
In July of 2021, they shot a video for the Artesanos del paddock series of videos.
In November of 2021, they were both involved in some promo stuff for the 5th season of La Casa de Papel. Here you have some backstage thing.
In December of 2022, Estrella Galicia made them visit MEGA (the EG museum) and they looked very boyfriends while doing it (video).
(gifs source by @c2-eh)
They interviewed each other (video in English - video in Spanish). They talked about how Carlos should try a motoGP bike one day (the way Marc says "claro que te gustaria" lives rent free in my mind).
They filmed a "this or that" video that Carlos published for Marc's Birthday (video). It has Marc saying "you guard it [my beer] and I dance" and the two of them challenging each other to a race (we're still waiting).
EG also made them pour beers (video) and we had some intense heart eyes action from Marc.
(gifs source by @c2-eh)
You can find more pictures from that day here, the "then and now" insta reel here. They also did some VR stuff, with Marc inadvertedly grabbing Carlos' hand (pictures & video).
In January of 2023, EG released a commercial for their new 0,0 beer with them (insta reel) and you can see Marc handing the beers to Carlos saying "you're stronger" and after Carlos struggles to understand the mechanism, Marc has to take the beers from him (saying that the guys from motoGP are stronger).
MADRID
In early 2022, Marc (and his brother Alex) moved to Madrid. Carlos helped him, he said : "Since I found out he was coming to live in Madrid, I tried to help him adapt himself and feel as comfortable as possible in my hometown [...] I don't live in Madrid anymore, but I go back there every weekend and try to meet him. We met twice for dinner, I have shown him the gym where I train, he is also training there now, and we have a lot of contact." (article)
They indeed trained together earlier this year, with the following photos from January 2023 (insta post).
During the World Cup, on the 1st of December 2022, they watched the Spain - Japan game together with friends (and made a joint insta post for their selfies).
You can find a group picture of that night here. And now, very important things to witness : Carlos feeding Marc omelet from his fork and playing the plane game with him (video) and the two of them discussing while Marc is seating at Carlos' feet in a very babygirl fashion (video). The scenes are from All In (Marc's Prime Video documentary), you can see Carlos in episode 5.
(gifs source by me)
INSTAGRAM
You can find them in each other's comments (for example here or here). Here you have Carlos filming Marc while he was sleeping in early 2017.
Also, this is Carlos wishing Marc a Happy Birthday in 2021 (here) via EG. And Marc was watching the Bahrain GP (2023) and I'm making it count as Carlos support (photo here).
OTHER
I couldn't find out where this was from but have some leather jacket Carlos.
And then, something that might be EG related but I'm not sure so we're putting it here. An event at the Barcelona Grand Prix in 2019 with Marc's brother and Carlos' dad. More photos here.
In March of 2023, Ignacio Rivera, president of Estrella Galicia, talked about Marc & Carlos in an interview. It’s pretty interesting and I will just highlight one quote (translated to the best of my abilities) :
But it’s sure that the understanding between the two was building while they were participating to events and publicity campaigns together. There, you could see how they supported each other and competively provoked each other. It’s fantastic for us to do sponsor activities with the two because you can immediately perceive their affinity.
FANDOM CONTENT
This is where I do promo for myself and my friends. I've written a couple of fics for them, you can find them on my AO3 (one, two, short stories). @c2-eh also wrote a very beautiful and very hot fic for them and @backwardscapcarlos makes the best moodboards.
I also made a dedicated gifset for them, which you can find here.
We're all obviously looking forward to more content so please join us in the Carc madness.
#marc marquez#carlos sainz#primer#5593#this is my first primer and i'm sure i've forgotten stuff#i hope this was useful#i'm truly dying for more carc content
197 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fic Rec List - Pierre/Yuki
if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let me know and I will remove it immediately, no questions asked. I have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop me a message🤍
have a pairing you want me to do next? please read the faqs and then head to my inbox.
don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments!
hi, anons. of course! i hope you enjoy these. 🫶🏻
it took me a ridiculously long time to find a photo for the header for this one, because of their height difference. lmao.
Sweet-tooth by @12romy | G | 2.6k
Pierre keeps on finding sweet treats in his room. This story is very sweet (ha!) The author does such a great job of developing this lovely, warm atmosphere. I'm not sure I stopped smiling once during my read! They are certainly Idiots in Love here, and I love it. ❤️
'Summer break feels like it's missing something. Two things actually, the cakes, and Yuki. Especially Yuki.'
nsfw: I Feel Like I Exist For Love by @tinytauris | E | 3k
Pierre comes to terms with the way he feels about Yuki. This is such a beautifully written story - almost like poetry, with a gorgeous flow that really suits the yearning and pining and overwhelming levels of love present in this fic. Just absolutely stunning!
'Other times he’ll make Yuki laugh, see the younger man tip his head back, and thinks I wish I could bottle up that sound, save it for when the world seems bleak'
nsfw: part-time soulmate, full-time problem by @mediumtyres | E | 3k
Pierre feels jealous. I absolutely love the dynamic that the author has created here. Yuki has all of the control, and it is delicious. The push-pull here, the undercurrent of need and mutual desire that runs throughout - gorgeous, and such a pleasure to read.
'He looks like he’s been pulled out of a renaissance painting; plush lips bitten red raw, the indents his teeth had made just starting to fade; eyes blown wide, the black of his pupils completely swallowing the brown of his eyes; chest heaving, sweat starting to glisten in the early evening sun.'
nsfw: lay your bones down with me by @librasuncharles | E | 3.1k
Yuki adjusts after Pierre's departure to Alpine. This fic is like a gut-punch. So beautifully written, and very real. The dynamic here is also fantastic - the teasing, the fondness, the obvious adoration that exists between them (even if that isn't necessarily obvious to them), contrasted with the circumstances and the reality of the situation. This fic stayed with me for a long time after I read it.
'“It’s been great,” Pierre says, finally. It’s funny; he can say all the words in the world about missing Yuki and whether they’ll still be friends next year to every interviewer in the paddock, but these are all the words they can say to each other.'
the alps by @grandprix-ao3 | T | 4.9k
Yuki and Pierre adjust after Pierre's move to Alpine. No one does deep, soulful yearning like GP. There is an ache that runs throughout the entire fic, so visceral and intense that I felt it in my own chest. Beautifully done, as always.
'Yuki nods, though he’s not being paid attention to. He wonders, absently, if he had said something before, at some point, somewhere, if Pierre wouldn’t have signed the contract, if he would have stayed. It’s selfish, but he lets his mind go there, anyway.'
knowing i was beyond what could be recovered from by @milflewis | No Rating | 5.7k
Pierre comes to terms with life on a team without Yuki. This story is gorgeous. The author weaves in so many beautiful details - Pierre's relationship with Esteban and Charles and Arthur, the frequent little touches between Yuki and Pierre, the glimpse into the future - and it all adds up to create the richest, most stunning story. The dialogue here is some of my favourite in the whole fandom. Truly - I could talk about this fic all day.
'Sometimes, Pierre used to spend longer than normal shaking hands and saying his goodbyes to the team, dragging it out, just to see if Yuki would wait for him. He always did. He wonders if Nyck is now doing the same.'
wingman by @riccardont | T | 6.8k (wip)
Yuki and Pierre are roommates at college. This fic is hilarious. The author captures their voices absolutely perfectly, and the humour always, always hits. One thing that I love about this author's writing is their dialogue - it is so easy to read and flows so well, and it's just so fun. I love this fic, and can't wait to read more!
'Pierre almost feels bad for disappointing him. Almost. Probably because it feels like disappointing his grandma.'
nsfw: Set fire to the rain by @housepandacrimes | T | 8.9k
Yuki and Pierre are detectives - Pierre is recalled to his old unit after his replacement is found dead. This fic is hilarious, hot, beautifully characterised, wonderfully paced, and complete with suitably unhinged vibes. One thing that I really love about this fic is that it is very atmospheric, and perfectly captures the Noir genre.
'He seems a bit guarded. The dark circles under Yuki’s eyes are hardly new but they do look more severe than usual. Has he been losing sleep over the death of his partner or is it something else? Pierre lays a gloved hand gently on his cheek, running his thumb just where Yuki's lack of sleep is showing.'
nsfw: your mouth makes me reconsider where my heart lies by @yukierres | E | 10.3k
After a difficult race, Pierre is looking for a distraction - he finds camboy Yuki and things quickly develop. Not only is this fic ridiculously hot, the emotional journey that Pierre goes on is one of my favourites that I've ever read. Pierre's yearning throughout - he is a man obsessed, and he's not afraid to show it. It's just so well written and paced, and a joy to read.
'Pierre's ears burn. It has never been a thing before, all his partners delighted by his tongue and the things he can whisper in their ears. But his normal confidence is lost here, and he is not quite sure if it is the situation at hand or the way Yuki is looking down the camera.'
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
Remembrance-Chapter 9
next chapter of my Daniel/Armand fic. read it below or here
Now that the rush is over, Daniel realizes that he just fucked his ex on a balcony, where anyone can see. His ex that is still currently pressed against his chest, pants around his ankles. Daniel still wants to fight with him, but he's thinking maybe they should pause for a shower. He feels sweaty and gross.
“You good?” he asks. Daniel remembers sometimes when Armand had gotten rough with him, he'd bliss out and go into this sort of floaty space. It made conversation difficult until he came back to himself. He's never seen Armand like that, but he needs to check.
“Fine, Daniel.” He starts pulling back on his clothes. Daniel watches him with simmering anger. He looks so fucking good with his hair all sex mused. No one should be allowed to be so pretty and distracting when you're mad at them.
“Go get cleaned up and grab Louis. We're having a talk.”
Armand sighs. “If you insist.”
Twenty minutes later, they're all in the living room. Daniel takes the chair and leaves Louis and Armand the couch. He doesn't particularly want to be near either of them at the moment. “Care to explain?”
“It's Claudia,” says Louis, voice flat. He seems out of it. “She's stuck here; she's not at peace.”
Next to him is Armand, no longer wearing the gloves or contacts. He places a hand on Louis' shoulder. Daniel doesn't get it. “What, like a ghost?”
Armand's lilting voice rings out “You know of vampires but play the skeptic at ghosts?”
Fair point.
“What's that have to do with me?”
Armand's face becomes twisted with emotion. It's rare to see him so worked up. “Louis has some foolish idea that telling her story will set her free.”
Louis shakes Armand's hand off. “I need to finish the story. Everything will make sense then.”
It's all he's getting out of him, Daniel can tell. Just mentioning Claudia like this has him disassociating. Daniel rubs his eyes and sighs. He's not getting anything out of Louis like this. “Fine. Let's just start back tomorrow. I need some fucking space.”
Louis nods and stands. He trails out the door quietly.
Daniel feels a bit worried. The last time he remembers seeing Louis this bad was during his worst episode. Armand had fetched him and brought him to live with him and Daniel for an indeterminate amount of time. Louis only fed when he was reminded, and only from animals or blood bags then. He wasn't sleeping during the day. He couldn't stay awake at night. Nothing brought any emotion to him.
Armand gets up to follow, but stops by Daniel and bends low to whisper near his ear. “I'll come to your room later.”
“To talk,” Daniel says. He doesn't want Armand getting any ideas.
“What else?” Armand says, all too innocently.
Daniel watches him go and tries not to think about how less than an hour ago, he was spending inside him. Christ on a cracker, it's going to be hard to stay focused around him now.
Armand is at his door less than an hour later. Daniel lets him in and asks "How's Louis?"
"As well as can be expected. Speaking of Claudia is...difficult."
Daniel sits on the edge of the plush bed and pulls off his glasses. He rubs his eyes and sighs. He's so damn tired. "He still wants to finish the interview?"
Armand pulls a face. "...Yes." He's silent a moment, staring at Daniel intently. "I truly have missed you, Daniel."
"Whose fault is that?"
Armand looks away. His thumb is stroking over his finger in a self-soothing gesture. Daniel wonders if he makes Armand nervous.
"I'd rather not fight."
"I'd rather not have missing memories."
Armand steps forward and looks at him with a raw sort of intensity. "I did it to protect you. I wanted you safe and healthy."
"Again, not your fucking choice to make," Daniel says and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's not doing this right now. He wants answers, not a fight. "Explain this whole ghost thing to me."
Armand closes the distance between them and steps between Daniel's spread legs. He drapes his arms around Daniel's shoulders and bites his lip. "Is that really what you want to talk about?"
If Daniel were a young man who could still go five rounds a night with Armand, he might be tempted. But he's old and bitter now. He takes Armand's arms in his hands and pulls them off him. "That isn't going to work. You said you'd tell me what's going on, so tell me."
Armand gives him a crooked smile. "I was under duress at the time."
"Learned that trick from you," Daniel says. He's still holding onto Armand, because he doesn't trust him not to try something. He has to fight the urge to run his thumb along the inside of Armand's wrist. "Talk."
"Claudia is haunting Louis. The staff have seen and heard her."
"And Louis?"
Armand frowns. "She refuses to show herself to him."
That doesn't sound much like a haunting to Daniel.
Daniel takes a moment to observe Armand. He's strung taught like he's on edge, and his eyes are flashing with anger. "You think she's trying to punish him."
"What else?"
"Why?" Daniel says. He can guess Claudia was plenty mad at Louis for choosing Lestat over him, time and time again. And he already gathered she was dead. But why haunt Louis? Even if her anger was extreme, so was her love for him.
Armand looks away. He tugs his wrists from Daniel's grip and crosses his arms over his chest. "I met her, you know. When I first met Louis."
He goes silent for a long minute. Daniel waits, sensing there's more.
"I couldn't love her. I didn't know how," Armand says. "But Louis was devoted to her. He'd never be able to let her go."
There's no emotion in his voice, he sounds perfectly calm as he speaks. "Her death was...traumatizing for him."
"How did she die?" Daniel says. There's something niggling at the back of his brain, something terrible and cruel. Something he'd never have thought of all those years ago.
"You haven't got to that part of the story yet." Armand's gaze turns back to him. His expression is carefully guarded. "You'll see soon enough."
The horrible suspicion in the corner of his mind grows. But it's too early to speak it. He needs more information first.
"So what, I listen to this sanitized version of events? He's lying to me and he's lying to himself."
"Yes, he is," Armand agrees. His expression softens and he reaches out to touch Daniel's face. "You still care for him."
Daniel sucks in a breath at the feel of cool fingers against his skin. He catches Armand's hand. "Don't."
Armand sways closer to him and his eyes go to Daniel's mouth. "Why not?"
Like he really has to ask.
"You know why."
Armand leans ever closer and takes a shuddering breath. He's so close Daniel can feel his exhale against his lips. It somehow feels more intimate, being close to him like this. It isn't fair how it makes Daniel want.
Armand's nose brushes against his and Daniel puts a hand on his chest and gently pushes him back. His mouth feels dry and it's taking more restraint than he imagined to keep his hands off Armand. "You should go."
Armand steps back. "As you wish."
Armand goes to the door, but stops in the doorway. He pauses and looks back at Daniel. "Interview or no, I'm glad you're here."
Then he's gone and Daniel can breathe again. He slumps back on the bed and rubs his hands over his face. He doesn't know what to make of what he's learned.
Ghosts. Fucking ghosts.
This is his life now. Daniel pulls out his laptop and starts researching. He has a job to do, and he plans to do it.
No matter what.
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
matt hearing your heart beat like crazy during normal interactions and realizing you have some social anxiety so he starts taking on more conversations so you don't get worked up
Yes <3
————
At first he thinks you’re nervous bc you’re around him. Cocky little mf lol. But then he really listens in and discovers you’re actually not nervous bc you’re with him, but you’re a nervous wreck bc of the party you’re at.
You were Matt’s plus one to this work thing. You had never been a very social person. It takes you a while to trust people, hence why most of your friends have been with you since forever. It also takes you a little bit to warm up to people, too. You’re always a blubbering mess and your brain just kinda shuts down and you suck at talking (same lmao). And god you get so sweaty and your throat gets dry. Tbh sometimes you opt out of social gathering just because the thought of having to talk to new people gets you anxious. But of course, this work party was important to Matt, so you had to show up. And you wanted to anyways, but just the thought of talking to random people was off putting
You and Matt are talking to one of the owners of this law firm in Queens. You try to stay out of the conversation as best as you can, but the guy just won’t stop including you and plus Matt is so busy flaunting you off (as he should but it really doesn’t make your anxiety better). Matt’s like “yeah Y/n has her own restaurant! Tell him about it, sweetheart.”
And while you absolutely love promoting your restaurant, you would rather do it when you have a whole speech prepared. But alas, you don’t have that. You start playing with your bracelet and you look to Matt, your throat becoming dry. At first matt thinks you’re getting a little nervous bc you’re next to him and obvs he looks gorgeous (he does tho. Him in a tux 😮💨😮💨). But then as you start to speak and it all comes out in jumbles, he realizes you’re nervous.
So he slips his arm around your waist, comfortingly squeezing your side.
“Yeah, m-my restaurant is great. I at least think so. Um, we serve lots of different foods. L-like steak and um… cake,” you stammer. You feel dizzy and like you’re about to faint. And the guy you’re talking to literallt is holding the most intense eye contact with you.
“Oh, what kind of cake?” The guy asks.
“U-Um… well, there’s c-carrot and —”
Matt politely interjects. “There’s a great variety. You should come down and try some time. Y/n will give you a discount since we know you.”
You laugh awkwardly, leaning into Matt as a thank you for saving you. “I-I would love to give you a discount.”
“My wife and I would love to eat there!“ the guy smiles.
Matt then excuses you two and walks you to the bar and gets you some water.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were so nervous tonight,” Matt says. “It’s okay,” you practically chug the water. “I don’t like talking strangers is all.”
Matt nods, “I’ll talk more, how about that?”
“Yeah, okay. Thank you.”
“Of course.”
And then you get all embarrassed bc you’re a grown woman and you feel bad Matt has to take the lead. “I’m sorry for being like this. I don’t know why I get so nervous. It’s always been a problem as a kid. I hate job interviews and I hate talking to random people. And I hate being at big social gatherings.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart, please. It’s okay, trust me. I’m not mad and please don’t feel bad for feeling anxious. Social anxiety is perfectly normal. But would you like to go home? I don’t want to keep you here,” he says, slipping his hand into yours.
You shake your head. “No. I’m okay. Just please don’t leave my side? I don’t know anyone here.”
He leans in and kisses your forehead. “I’ll never leave, I promise.”
190 notes
·
View notes
Text
The whole “it’s brotherly love” “it’s platonic” argument that’s used to dismiss JJpope as a ship is flawed. And can easily be debunked by comparing JJ and Pope’s dynamic with the other Pogues outside of each other. For instance, JJ literally goes out of his way to be in close contact with Pope no matter what. Whether that be him sitting next to him, standing next to him, being faced to face, affectionate, etc. Now I know the argument can be made that JJ’s love language is physical touch and that of course he’d want to be close to people he considered his family; I mean he’s also close with John B. However, in any instance involving physical touch between JJ and Pope, JJ always leans more into Pope’s touch. And even lingers a bit.
For instance, when John B and Pope are BOTH praising JJ for planting the false key. We see John B AND Pope in close contact. However, the difference is that JJ and Pope are practically joined by the shoulder and are at some point JJ is holding Pope’s hand but he isn’t holding John B’s hand.
When he does the handshake with Pope during the bonfire scene in season 2, we see that they prolong the handshake. To the point where they’re just holding hands. And as they’re doing the handshake the two of them make direct eye contact with each other the entire time. Not once breaking eye contact. Whereas when JJ does the handshake with another person from the group, ie: Kiara the handshake is normal. Very quick, kinda swift and the entire time the both of them are more focused on the actual handshake then making eye contact with each other.
Throughout season 1 and a little bit of season 2 we see moments where Pope is either distressed or anxious. And in those scenes we usually see that JJ is the main one who calms him down or makes him less anxious through physical touch. In Season 1 Episode 4, when Pope hugs JJ and tells him that he’s going to turn himself in; almost as soon as JJ places his hands on Pope, he becomes less tense. And again, when Pope is worried about his future after walking out on his interview, JJ puts both of his hands on Pope’s shoulder. He relaxes a bit, although he’s still obviously worried, he’s able to calm down. It can also be noted that JJ talks to Pope in a soft tone and that when Kiara speaks to him, he raises his tone just a little bit. Which I think shows how different the dynamic is between JJ and Kiara in comparison to him and Pope. In season 2, this is somewhat reversed because we see Pope trying to approach/get JJ’s attention by speaking in a softer tone to him out of everyone else in the group.
Unlike the rest of the pogues, we see JJ constantly making intense eye contact with Pope, staring at his lips. In addition, making sexual innuendos and asking Kiara how Pope is in bed. I know a lot of people don’t count the last scene as a JJPope scene since it was improvised. But the scene where JJ makes a sexual innuendo, along with the other scene at the cemetery where Pope’s pants get ripped off and JJ’s like “Nice dude, it's like a small tootsie roll” most definitely count. Once again, comparing JJ’s relationship with John B (which is more of a bromance) to his relationship Pope. These are not the type of interactions you’d have with your brother and if so, that isn’t normal.
Side note: Aside from that one girl that JJ made out with in season 1 episode 1, Pope is the only other person that JJ’s canonically kissed throughout the show so far. Pope’s also the only person that JJ has said “I Love You” to as well (ignore the last sentence, I’m probably wrong).
Can’t believe I forgot this scene^
Notice how in this scene, as Pope presses his face into JJ’s neck that JJ leans towards Pope’s touch. Allowing them to get even closer. Someone on OBX twitter also pointed out that Pope has both his arms around JJ in this scene. There’s nothing platonic or ‘brotherly’ about this scene.
#outer banks#mayward#jj x pope#jjpope#i hope this is coherent#I’ll add onto this later#outer banks season two#jj maybank#pope heyward#pope obx#jj obx#I had so many thoughts too#credits to JJPope Twitter and tiktok#specifically santanasbeloved on tiktok#they’ve been posting JJPope evidence
326 notes
·
View notes
Text
statistically significant | 1 | bakugou/reader
length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters
summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.
tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert
warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior
note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!
Last year
You had been ferreting snacks out of the Hero Awards when he found you.
In retrospect, the whole idea of attending the Hero Awards had been a bad one from the get go. You’d just been so thrilled by the image of it in your head--getting to see all your favorite pros gathered in one place, dressed to the nines, celebrating their rankings, their wins, their saves, their successes. You’d pictured yourself flitting between heroes, collecting autographs and taking selfies, sitting down at a table with big names like Uravity and Froppy, making fast friends over the complimentary champagne.
But then you’d seen what really went into preparing for and attending an event like this, and the shine had quickly rubbed off.
When your boss at the Commission had extended you the invite, she’d told you that you would be representing the organization, and had advised you to contract a makeup artist and find someone willing to dress you. Her tone had strongly implied that this was more of an order than a suggestion. So you’d done it, but nobody had told you exactly how many hours went into getting your makeup tested, getting fitted and refitted for a dress, and fielding questions on cut, colors, fabrics, and fit.
By the time the Awards rolled around, you’d lost upwards of forty excruciating hours of your life to preparations, and had developed some kind of anxiety-induced Pavlovian response to the modiste’s name on your phone screen, where you immediately wanted to leap into the nearest storage closet and hide. And none of this was even counting the five full hours you spent on the day of the awards getting primped and polished within an inch of your life, then stuffed into some ridiculous scrap of fabric that threatened to fall off of you if you so much as breathed wrong.
By the time the stylists and makeup artist had finished with you, you were starved, cranky, and nursing a small migraine from how enthusiastic the hairdresser had been with you. You’d thought, though, that you would finally be able to enjoy yourself now that the worst was over. All there was left was to attend the ceremony, and get to see all your favorite heroes.
And for an hour or two, the Hero Awards had been just as cool as expected. You lingered on the fringes of the red carpet, gawking as pros like Chargebolt and Pinky swanned their way down the walkway, looking even cooler in real life than they looked on TV. Everyone had clearly gone all out, and they looked unbelievably good, either inhumanly beautiful or inhumanly intimidating. You had been utterly transfixed, as evidenced by the inordinate amount of time you spent accidentally staring at Todoroki Shouto as he gave an interview to the side of the walkway, looking absolutely unreal as he leaned over to speak to the reporter.
When you’d finally managed to snap out of your trance, you’d remembered to cut a beeline for the snack table, and had set about stuffing as many snacks into your dress as you could manage. And that’s where the trouble really started.
The invite to the Awards had come with the option for a very fancy multi-course dinner that you could have chosen. Instead, you’d taken one look at the price and laughed yourself sick, before resolving to sneak a bunch of the free snacks into your dress to keep you occupied during the ceremony. The problem was, the scrap of fabric the modiste had insisted was a dress was so obnoxiously flimsy and could only hold so many snacks.
If your dress had been able to hold a reasonable number of snacks, you wouldn’t have needed to sneak back out to the snack table during the presentation, and he would have never had a chance to catch you on your own. But the dress was lacking snack utility, and so you had gone back out for more.
You kept low in the aisle as you crept out of the darkened theater, keeping a hand over your chest so you didn’t spill out of the thin fabric of your dress, and emerged into the reception hall, where you were almost blinded by the harsh light. You stood for a minute, blinking the spots out of your vision, and touched a hand to your eyes, careful not to smear any of your eyeliner.
And that’s when he struck.
Almost as soon as you raised your hand, a rough hand seized your wrist, wrenching your arm down. A heavy arm went around you quickly, trapping both your arms to your sides, and you barely had time to let out a squeak before a calloused hand clapped over your mouth. Your feet left the floor, and then you were being dragged through a side door into the stairwell.
You twisted wildly, kicking out, trying to catch the wall or the railing to push off of and throw your assailant off balance, but he was strong, and clearly well-versed in combat, as he kept you well away from anything you could use to your advantage. He hauled you out into the stairwell, but instead of heading down the stairs, he moved towards the corner. To your surprise, he tossed you unceremoniously against the wall, letting you go.
You caught yourself on the rough stone and whirled around, only to reel back in shock when you caught sight of your assailant.
Bakugou Katsuki, perhaps better known as pro hero Ground Zero, leaned over you, trapping you against the wall with an arm on either side of you. He, like all the other heroes you’d caught sight of today, looked almost unreal in person, but in stark contrast to all the others, his handsome face was twisted up in unmistakeable fury, blood-red eyes bright with violence and white teeth bared in a silent snarl. Even under the thick fabric of his suit, you could see the hard lines of his body were taught with aggression, and it was all you could do to not shrink back against the cold stone of the wall.
“So,” he snarled, leaning in to put his face close to yours, “you’re the fucking statistics nerd.”
You gaped at him, mouth falling open. Your professional title was data scientist, but statistics nerd was a close enough descriptor that you could tell he knew who you were. Your brows went up, wondering why in the world Ground Zero knew you.
“E-excuse me?” you managed. Your brain rapidly kicked into high gear, running through possible reasons why he would know you, what he could possibly want with you.
Bakugou snarled. “What the fuck is your problem with me?”
You stared at him. Problem with him? Other than the fact that he’d just seized you with no warning and dragged you into a stairwell, you had no problem with him. You’d never even met him--what the hell was he talking about?
“Uh, do you maybe have me confused with someone else?” you asked, trying to shift out from under his arm. Maybe there was another data scientist milling around in the crowds that he’d meant to get his hands on instead.
Bakugou’s red eyes narrowed, and he put a hand to your abdomen to press you firmly back to the wall. “Oh no. You’re not getting out of this, you little brat. Fucking fix it.”
You eyed him warily, checking him for signs of a head injury, wandering over his shock of blonde hair and noting the size of his pupils. Maybe Bakugou had been out on assignment just before the Awards, and hadn’t stopped to get his injuries checked out before coming here. A blow to the head would explain why he was behaving so strangely, and asking for weird stuff.
“Fix what?” you asked, frowning when you couldn’t spot the signs of a concussion on him. His gaze seemed all too focused, all too intent. It was nerve-wracking, actually. You’d heard of his reputation for intensity before, but it was one thing to hear it and another entirely to have all that intensity trained on you.
Bakugou bared his teeth and leaned closer. “Your fucking nerd-ass model. Fix it.”
You froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh, this was about the model. You knew his bone to pick with the model.
The entire reason you’d received an invite to the Hero Awards in the first place was because of your work on the model that calculated the hero rankings. The model had existed for years before you had come along, but this year it was different.
You’d been hired a couple months ago by the Public Safety Hero Commission after you’d contacted them with an idea on how to finally calculate the value of field assists. You’d had a rough prototype of a neural network that you’d trained on video of multi-hero operations, tracking the movements of all the heroes on screen, and had developed an algorithm capable of assigning point values to moves that contributed to but did not directly result in a win or a rescue.
The Commission couldn’t get their hands on your work fast enough, and after only a few months refining your neural net, it was hooked into the rankings model, and it had informed not only the choices for Rescue of the Year and Most Valuable Hero this year, but had entirely changed the hero rankings overall.
And Bakugou’s ranking had been very much affected.
Bakugou Katsuki was a hero very unlike the world had ever seen. Anyone could see from his stats alone that he was incredibly driven, supremely powerful, and almost unmatched by any other hero out there. A few years out from UA, he’d already entered the top ten and had been mere breaths away from the top three -- that is, until your model results had been released.
The thing about Bakugou was that he had a higher percentage of fight wins than any hero in recorded history. He came out on top of almost any situation he entered into, and had one of the highest villain capture stats and the highest villain kill stat as compared to any other hero at this point in their career. The problem was, the new model also now took into account assists, as well as applied slightly heavier weights to rescues, and as good as Bakugou was at winning fights, he was almost equally as terrible at helping others.
So when your model had been worked into the Hero Commission’s official ranking calculations, Bakugou had backslid to sit unhappily at rank number eight.
And apparently, he thought this meant you had a personal grudge.
“Okay, I understand you’re upset, but the results are the results,” you said, watching him carefully. “It’s got nothing to do with you personally.”
His expression darkened thunderously, and the hand on your abdomen grew notably hotter, a scent like gunpowder and burnt sugar rising in the stairwell. “Like hell it doesn’t. Fucking fix it.”
Your brow furrowed. How did regular people think models worked? “There’s no ‘fixing it’, Bakugou. That’s just how math works. If you have a problem with how assists and rescues are weighted then you can take it up with the Commission. I just trained the model with their recommendations, and the results are what they are.”
Bakugou apparently registered none of what you were saying. Rough fingers slid to your jaw, tipping your face up to him. “What is it that you wanted, you damn brat? Did you want to see me humiliated? Or maybe you wanted my attention?” His fingers dug into your jaw. “Well now you have it, you fucking harpy, so show me what you wanted with it.”
You gaped at him, unable to help the way your mouth hung open like a fish. Did he think you were blackmailing him? With a fucking statistical model? It was a matter of public record that Bakugou was smart--he was purportedly one of the brightest minds that had ever graced the profession of hero, with strategic skill and combat sense that was utterly unparalleled--so then why the hell was he being so dumb about this? Was he really so self-absorbed that he thought this whole thing was about him?
Your temper flared, rising like the slow heat that was building under his hands. “I know this might be news to you,” you said slowly, “but not everything is about you. The model I trained takes in video as its input, and calculates rankings based on recommended weighting criteria that the Hero Commission gave me themselves. There is no place for me to input my own biases or change the results, so if the output is something that you’re ashamed of, then maybe you should do better.”
Bakugou’s eyes brightened, narrowing on you with an intensity that made you want to curl into the wall. “Say that again, you little fuck.”
You held your ground, ignoring the dangerous way the scent of hot smoke sharpened, leaning forward to bare your own teeth. “Maybe you should do better, you self-centered asshole.”
You were close enough that you could see his pupils dilate with the challenge, like a predator catching sight of its prey. An unsettling grin made its way across his mouth. “I am going to make you wish you’d never even seen a calculator, you smug fucking nerd,” he said, leaning into you.
The scent of gunpowder burned in the back of your throat, and the hands on you flared alarmingly hot, before the door to the hall burst open, and a whirlwind of red and yellow tore into the stairwell.
“Heya Blasty,” a voice chirped, echoing on the stairs, “Found ya.”
The shock of golden yellow resolved itself into the lean figure of Kaminari Denki, aka pro hero Chargebolt. He quickly made his way to Bakugou’s side, seizing an elbow.
“I’m busy, fuckstick. Fuck off,” Bakugou growled.
A large hand reached over Bakugou’s other shoulder to pull him off you, a head of gelled red spikes materializing behind his back, and you blinked up at Kirishima Eijirou, also known as Red Riot.
“Sorry about him,” Kirishima smiled down at you warmly, in direct contrast to the way his fingers dug into Bakugou’s shoulder. His teeth looked incredibly sharp in person, but this fact somehow failed to detract from the warmth of his friendly expression. You blinked, stunned that you were being addressed by Red Riot.
“He’s been a little worked up since the results were released, but he’s harmless,” Kirishima explained, grunting a little as he jerked Bakugou away from you. Bakugou snarled and turned to his friend, a small volley of sparks lighting off of his palm.
“I said fuck off,” he growled.
You let out a choked laugh at the idea of Bakugou Katsuki being called harmless. Just this week he’d perfected a technique where he melted clean through concrete, and you’d seen the replay of him liquifying the side of a skyscraper on the news this morning as you’d been getting your makeup done.
“Harmless, right. Definitely felt that way,” you uttered as Kirishima struggled to get a grip on Bakugou.
“I’ll fucking show you harmless,” Bakugou spat, turning back to you, sparks crackling louder in his palm. Kirishima seized his chance quickly, getting a bulky arm around Bakugou’s chest and lifting him straight off the ground. Bakugou snarled and gripped Kirishima’s forearm, letting off an explosion that would have blown anyone else’s arm clean off, but Kirishima just laughed, ignoring that the sleeve of his suit had caught fire, and hauled Bakugou back through the door.
A litany of swears filtered back through the door before it swung shut again.
Kaminari turned to face you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry about that. We didn’t realize he was gonna come after you like that, though I don’t think he would have actually done anything. He’s pretty much all talk.”
You waved a hand, still stunned that Chargebolt was speaking to you.
“Uh, it’s okay,” you said. “I just...didn’t expect that kind of a reaction.”
Kaminari chuckled. “He’s usually a little more chill these days--I think he’s just pissed he’s losing to Midoriya now.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I gotta say, though, he was even more worked up than I expected when we got here. What did you say to him?”
You grimaced, thinking back on the tense conversation. “That if he was ashamed of his ranking, he should do better.”
Kaminari choked. “Oh fuck, he must have been pissed,” he managed, before dissolving into peals of laughter. “Do better. No wonder he looked like he was gonna give himself a hernia. Mina’s gonna wet herself when I tell her.”
You shifted uncomfortably. “He thinks I altered the results to get his attention.”
Kaminari’s chuckles tapered off as he set a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Oh, he’s just saying that. He knows he’s shit at assists. He’s just salty he’s actually gotta do something about it if he wants to be number one.”
You thought back to the feeling of that hard body pressing you up against the wall, the disdain that had twisted his handsome face, the burning heat that had built up under his palms. A shiver went down your spine. It had seemed like he was a little more than salty, but if that’s how his friend wanted to put it, then fine.
“Well, thanks for the save anyway,” you said, giving Kaminari a little smile. “I’d definitely give you and Kirishima Rescue of the Year if I was pre-determining my results.”
Kaminari laughed, turning back to the door that Kirishima had dragged Bakugou through. As if on cue, a small boom sent the door swinging open a little. “Speaking of which, I’d better get back to make sure I don’t have to rescue the rescuer.”
He gave you a casual wave, then crossed to the door quickly. He hesitated at the threshold, then peeked back over his shoulder at you.
“By the way,” he said. “You might want to take a look at your dress. I, um, think Bakugou may have gotten a little carried away.”
He disappeared before you could ask what he meant, but a quick glance down clarified soon enough. Right on your abdomen, where Bakugou had pinned you against the wall, lay a scorched cut out, exactly in the shape of one large hand.
Your mouth dropped open in horror.
That fucking dick.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha x reader#my hero academia#bnha#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou#tw threats#tw gendered violence
457 notes
·
View notes
Text
Auction
For @skellagirl
.
“Hey, Jazz,” said Danny, leaning into Jazz’s room, one hand on the doorknob, the other braced against the jamb. “Wanna help me mess with Vlad?”
“Do I?” responded Jazz, pushing her chair back. “What’s the plan?”
“Well,” said Danny, “Vlad left one of his creepy spy bugs in the kitchen again, and I was thinking we could have a loud conversation in front of it about how Mom’s going to that charity bachelor auction.”
Jazz frowned. “But she isn’t. She’s married.”
“Yeah, that’s the point. Vlad’s delusional.”
“Ah, I see,” said Jazz. “Yeah, let’s do it. Should we write a script?”
“Maybe just a backstory. I work better with improv.”
“I’ve seen your fights, Danny. You definitely do not.”
“That’s cold.”
.
Maddie was not here, and Vlad was going to commit murder. Just a little bit. The victim was already half dead, after all.
His teeth squeaked as he forced himself to smile at the vapid, crowds of rich single women below him. He could not, unfortunately, back out now without losing quite a bit of face. The only consolation he had was that he had already communicated the need to eliminate the wealthier bidders, so that Maddie’s bet would win, to his ghostly servants. If only he could get away from the crowds and duplicate himself to take care of the others…
But that would be suspicious too, wouldn’t it? He had to let at least a few bids go through. And some of them had to be high, otherwise he’d never hear the end of it from his ever-aggravating business associates.
Curse them and their golf-playing buffoonery. He didn’t even like golf. It took so long.
When his name was called, he went out onto the stage like a man expecting to be hung. Why did anyone think this kind of thing was a good idea? This was humiliating. Ninety percent of the people bidding were after his money one way or another, he was sure.
Not like Maddie.
He sighed and refused to make eye contact with anyone in the crowd as the auctioneer called higher and higher values. Finally, the number stopped climbing, and Vlad lowered his gaze to see who, exactly, he would have to waste a day with.
Well. At least it wasn’t someone who was after his money.
.
“So,” said Harriet Chin, not even bothering to hide the recorder she held in her hands, “Vladimir Masters. Do you have a statement regarding the Whole World Mission scandal?”
“Harriet,” said Vlad, “please, we’re supposed to be on a date.”
“Yes, and I get to decide our activities. And I want an exclusive interview with the elusive Vlad Masters. That’s what I paid for, after all.”
“And here I was, thinking that it was my ravishing, good looks.”
Harriet snorted. “Maybe for someone who didn’t see you and Jack in that ridiculous hot dog eating contest. Although,” she leaned back appraisingly, “you did fill out since then. Actually… I’m sort of surprised at how early the bidding topped out. Was the room filled with bitter exes, or is there some scandal I don’t know about?”
Vlad rolled his eyes. “I confess, I’m as surprised as you.”
“Now, that’s a lie,” said Harriet.
“Excuse me?”
“You still have that tell from college,” said Harriet, smugly.
“Excuse me? I do not have a tell.” If he did, he had to identify and get rid of it as soon as possible.
“You do,” said Harriet, still grinning.
Vlad weighed the pros and cons of simply overshadowing her and making her lose the day. She’d probably claim that he drugged her or something. Curses.
He sighed, heavily. “At least let me take you out to a restaurant instead of,” he flicked his fingers at his surroundings, “just standing here.”
“Oh, I don’t know. A person’s house can tell you a lot about someone. Didn’t your Wisconsin home blow up? What was up with that, anyway?”
“I released a statement regarding that some time ago,” said Vlad.
“Wasn’t it also raided by the government?”
“That was a misunderstanding. And I also released a press statement about that incident. It shouldn’t take you more than, oh, an hour to look it up online.” This wasn’t entirely true. Once it was out of the immediate spotlight, Vlad had spent quite a bit of money to have the whole story scrubbed. “Dinner? I am paying.”
Harriet looked thoughtful. “Alright, but I’m picking where we go.”
“Of course,” said Vlad, graciously.
.
He regretted everything.
“Harriet, I know Amity Park is small relative to, say, Chicago, but, really… There are good restaurants here.”
“Yes,” said Harriet, “but I wanted to eat here.”
Vlad grimaced and tried not to look at the booth where Daniel and his juvenile delinquent friends were sitting and filming him with a handheld camera.
“Of course,” said Harriet, apparently unbothered by the stickiness of the booth bench and the screaming of children in the other part of building, “if you wanted to go back to a more private setting so that we could continue our interview—”
“No, no, this is quite alright. I said I would get you dinner, and here we are, eating…” He glanced at the menu with derision. “Food.”
He could, just barely, call it that. Even if he’d discovered during his short-term ownership of the chain that certain of its condiments could be used as mid-grade explosives. He didn’t know how Daniel could stand it.
(On the other hand, he had to admit he was enjoying this. Just a little. He so rarely got to match wits against a competent adult.)
(Maddie didn’t count—He was trying to woo Maddie, after all. They were practically on the same side.)
Valerie Grey, looking intensely weirded out, brought their order to their table. Harriet, unperturbed by the grease leaking through the paper wrappings, began to sort though the offerings for the cheap chicken burger she had ordered. Vlad, meanwhile, stared down at his sandwich.
Someone had put an ectoplasm antagonist in the dressing. He glared at Daniel. He didn’t know how the boy had done it, but he was going to pay for it. Along with setting him up for this ridiculous ‘date.’
“Aren’t you going to eat?” asked Harriet.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Oh, stop being such a snob. I remember you and Jack living off of instant ramen.”
“That was then, this is now,” said Vlad.
.
“Seems to be going well,” said Tucker, adjusting the lens on his camera, “all things considered.”
“Kind of surprised they’re here of all places, though,” said Sam.
“I think Ms. Chin’s just trying to get a rise out of Vlad, to be honest.” He’d stopped looking at them, though, instead frowning at the kitchens. “I think Valerie put something in his food. Do you think we should do something?”
“Not really,” said Tucker.
“Yeah, I’m going to choose Valerie every day over the old rich white guy who wants to kill your dad,” said Sam. “Even if she has some slightly homicidal tendencies regarding you.”
“Fair enough,” said Danny. “Want to stalk Vlad and his date until they drive home?”
“I don’t have any other plans,” said Sam, easily.
“Same,” said Tucker.
“Cool,” said Danny.
.
“Are you frequently stalked by teenagers?” asked Harriet.
“No,” said Vlad.
“And isn’t that Jack and Maddie’s son?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Oh ho, there’s a story there, isn’t there?”
“A private matter, I assure you.”
“When you’re as wealthy as you are, Vlad, nothing’s a private matter anymore.”
“I fear I must disagree with you on that count. Where are we going, anyway?”
“It’s a surprise,” said Harriet. “Unless you want to give me that interview.”
“Ugh. No.”
It was a miniature golf course. Of course it was. He could never escape from the accursed ‘sport.’ At least the miniature version was marginally more tolerable. Or it would be, if Daniel and his pack of friends weren’t able to follow them in.
… Or maybe they wouldn’t follow them in. The trio veered off suddenly right before the exit. Vlad smirked. Not enough cash for the little badger to get in, hm?
This assumption was disastrously disproven when a ghost fight tore through the Astroturf that covered the third hole.
Harriet was very nearly thrown into the pond, but Vlad managed to catch her at the last moment.
She was blushing.
Butter biscuits.
.
“Well,” said Harriet, “that wasn’t the interview I wanted, but it wasn’t a total waste of time. Same time next week?”
“Fine, fine, whatever you want,” said Vlad. Then what he said caught up to him. “No. One date. One date was all you paid for.”
Harriet pretended not to hear him.
237 notes
·
View notes
Text
second chance x damon albarn
i'm surprised i haven't written anything about dilf damon yet bc i've been so obsessed with him recently wtf. anyways enjoy x
i might do a second part to this, idk yet tho
Pairing: dilf damon x reader
Warnings: none :)
Word count: 2.786
Requested by anon <3
༉‧₊˚✧
“Do you want to come over?” I abruptly asked, the silence pouring through the line deafening my ears as my fingers toyed with the hem of my shirt. The desperation and moment that led to me ringing my ex-boyfriend at what was nearing eight in the evening seemed as though it was a fever dream, the words rolling off my tongue so delicately out of apprehension only a fragment of that trance. In all honesty, I had no idea as to why I rang Damon, or to what extent the string of thoughts guided me towards the action of calling - we had been broken up for around a year, and it came as a much larger shock that I was able to muster the amount of courage to tap his contact on my phone and attentively listen to the thunderous rings as the landlines attempted to connect, instead of quickly shutting the phone off before he was able to receive a missed call alert.
“Uh, um - are you sure?” he questioned, the stutter escaping his mouth insinuated that he was just as dazed at my sudden offer as me, the demeanour of his voice accentuating the idea that he was entirely finished with the ephemeral chapter of his life which had me intertwined inside as his partner; that he had gotten over me quicker than the momentary period our relationship lasted. My heart sank, realising how indigent I sounded, as if I had never gotten over him throughout our time apart - which I did, learning to live with myself was easier than I had thought it was going to be; the weeks leading up to the breakup stemming from the distance we shared apart due to Damon consistently being on tour and never providing enough time for me, for us, to consider one another as more than romantically acquainted, though that didn’t mean the gap in my heart had been sealed shut, it was simply brimmed with other, unspecial fragments of things which could only distract the thought of him for so long, until I’d discover myself adventuring for something else to hyperfixate my thoughts upon, though he always returned.
“Yeah…” My voice trailed off, so quiet that I struggled to sustain the volume. Though we had only just spoken, the trance that he had obtained over me for all those months we were with one accord, returned in an instant, having the same rush that a recollection of memories, pastimes that were once forgotten, crumbled to dust, had been reborn; ignited into a new bloom in the height of a harvest, resulting in the scolding of yourself upon how you granted the ability to forget such a thing. It seemed as if all those thoughts, ideations convinced to the point that I had gotten over him, were myriads of masks attempting to say it enough to believe it. Without a doubt, I had never overcome the strains of the acquaintance we shared - and I could only hope he felt the same way.
I heard his throat clear itself before his voice echoed through the telephone speakers once again. “Alright… I’ll be there in a bit.” he mumbled, those words bringing a soft, yet apprehensive grin to my lips. I had no idea what I was doing, or why, but it felt right.
It felt as if only the sum of a few minutes passed when I heard a distinguishable knock on the door; one that had not rang through my ears for an interminable amount of time, one that was able to send me months back in time to a period where he had significantly been a figurehead dictating the story. As I jolted up to answer the door, it felt as if things were normal again, back to how they used to be so many nights previous; me waiting for him to come home after he spent a long day at the recording studio, crafting what could only be assumed was the pure essence of talent, unlocking the door to allow my arms to envelop into an embrace cherished with affection and warmth, proving he longed to have my presence just as much as I craved his. Once my eyes met the sight of him, my heart dropped at the overwhelming feeling of my reminiscing about what once was, the nostalgia for a moment so authentically shaped with what could only be described as true love, my body yearning to relish in the sensation of his arms protectively wrapped around my body, a feeling which could only fulfill one’s heart with all that it desires. "Hi..." I trailed off, stunned by how similar, yet different his appearance was from when we last saw one another. His hair had the same shape, though it seemed a little shorter, his eyebags still prominent on his features, though it seemed as if they had sagged down slightly, posing the idea of whether he had been sleeping alright. His torso still adorned shirts with dark colours, amplified with one of his leather jackets which only made me more attracted to him. Widening the door, he set foot into the apartment, nodding his head lightly as a greeting. Although I was very elated to the fact that he was in my apartment, it felt eerie having him back here after so long, stepping foot into the space that was once served merely as a homely and secure space where we both could simply live and enjoy our time together, no distractions included.
Once I had followed him into the living space, he took a seat onto the couch facing the television. I attempted to make my footsteps omit as little noise as possible, as if to avoid damaging the awkward silence that had been shared between the pair of us. It went without saying that neither of us knew how to break the ice, or where this was going to head. One could only hope that the outcome of this meeting was positive. “Do you want something to drink?” I asked, ushering over to the cabinet adjacent to the television, supplied with all sorts of alcoholic beverages in which I had not touched, simply there as a point of manners to offer when somebody had come over. “White?” I offered, pulling out an almost-full bottle of white wine. I knew he hated it.
"You know I’ve always hated white." he mumbled, a small smile playing upon his lips. Something about that little grin plastered on his lips made my stomach flip and turn, welcoming a swarm of butterflies to accentuate the nervous pit that had formed within myself. The intense feelings reminded me of the same bewilderment your body undergoes during the first date; there is such a raw attraction to somebody that you know far too little about, but you are so hypnotised by their presence it is as if they’re the only thing in the world that matters, to the point that they obnoxiously overtake your mind, every little thought occupied with their name, wondering whether they may like such and such, like an infection spreading without you knowing such cure for it. The atmosphere was intense, carrying the same ambience of two strangers meeting for the first time in an isolated space, though there was also a refreshing element of familiarity that neither of us wanted to admit that we appreciated so deeply.
"Red?" I asked, snatching the half empty bottle as I placed the other wine bottle back in its designated place, turning my head back to fix my gaze onto Damon, raising my eyebrows as a form of derise for the drink. Nodding his head in response, I quickly took two glasses from the cabinet, brimming them both with the alcoholic liquid before slowly making my way to sit next to him on the sofa, handing him one of the glasses as he thanked me in response. The same devilish silence echoed in the room once again as we granted the situation to truly sink in - thankfully alcohol was present. As I took a sip of the beverage, I tried to gulp down as much liquid as possible before I spoke once again. "So... how have you been?"
"Good... Just came off tour actually. Was a really successful one." he replied, his voice laced with a slight tone of doubt, edging the regret of so eagerly returning back into a place that was once so attached to his occupancy. He carried on talking about how the tour had been, my head subconsciously nodding, attentive to what he was talking about. Each time he had told me about something new they had added, or something they had changed surrounding the live performance set-up, it never failed to blow me away. Him and Jamie together, working on such a creative idea and putting it to life on stage was truly something out of rare virtuosity, disregarding the lengthy old ramblings from Damon almost every night he had returned home about how much Jamie had pissed him off, having a petty argument as if it was a be or end all in their friendship. It was actually a good form of entertainment, seeing how riled up Damon had gotten simply because of something that Jamie joked in an interview.
Once he had finished talking, our eyes connected, uncertainty clouded in his eyes as he searched for the reason behind him needing to come over. "Y/N, why did you ask me to come over?" He said, abrupt, almost as if those words had been lingering at the back of his mind the entire time we had been in one another’s acquaintance; the ease of the sting of words rolling off his tongue softly implied that, perhaps a try to prevent the harshness of the asking from offending me in the slightest. "We haven't seen each other for a year, why now?"
Both gazes never dared to break contact as if we had attempted to communicate telepathically - the ideation of instigating a conversation as awkward as how this had become, the two of us simply wanting the ground to swallow us whole. His gaze had the ability to put me into a trance upon which I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else except for the utter magnificence that was birthed into his loving eyes. Inhaling sharply, I tried to collect the thoughts in my brain that had been travelling in all directions, searching for all sorts of different possibilities that the conversation could reach. "Can we give it a second chance?" I asked absentmindedly, the realisation of what had just rolled off my tongue not settling in my mind until his eyes widened, speechless and shocked at my sudden questioning.
Sighing, he cocked his head to the side. “Love, we didn't work out the first time..." he began, my heart dropping to my stomach as the thought of him breaking my heart again entered my mind. His expression quickly softened once he saw my face drain colour, explaining all that he needed to know about how I had coped since he had left the picture. "I don't want to hurt you again."
Breaking away from the stare, I gawked at the dark shades of red that had adorned the transparent glass clasped in my palm. Holding in my emotions wasn’t going to do me any justice, and since he was here, it would not make sense for me to stupidly avoid the whole reasoning behind me needing him inside my apartment after so long. “It’s been so hard trying to get over you,” I mumbled, my voice almost inaudible out of embarrassment, though I knew he could hear me. “I need you.”
What I didn’t see from my shameful gaze at the ground, was the miniscule beam that broke out across Damon’s features. What I was unaware of, my body encompassed in such a impotent state of pure isolation, was that Damon had been as dependent on hearing those words escaping my mouth before he could admit the same to himself. Though it had all been answered to me as he softly brought his arm to caress my arm, gently squeezing the skin as a form of reassurance, implying the notion that he understood, that he felt the same way, after all this time. We broke up not because we lost feelings, but because the emotions we carried for one another were too strong to handle, too intense to progress with, that when he was gone for those long hours it had left me in such a stupor of helplessness and melancholy that it was unbearable to handle without it tarnishing my health. Unsurprisingly, at this point we knew where the conversation was headed; my desires to be swathed in his arms once again that I had tried so hard to banish to the back of my mind, to the depths of my distant memories in which by reliving such a hug came flooding back, my body leaned into his touch almost instantaneously, a subconscious reflex that I had craved, such an embrace that no other person could give, the mere side hug from him was able to banish all the pain that I had tried so diligently to mask away for the past few months.
We sat there for a short while, taking in the moment as it had played throughout, our breathing syncing together as comfort relished in the atmosphere, our minds now finally at peace while all the conflict that had battled our minds over the time we weren’t together. "Let me come on tour with you." I said, my head resting against his shoulder.
A chuckle erupted out of his throat. “It’s not that easy love.”
"Why can't it be? You're literally the frontman!" I exclaimed, lifting my head off his shoulder to connect eyes with him. "Damon, it would be so fun!" I exclaimed, attempting to encourage him.
It was as if things had mended back together, all the cracks in the pavements had been glued together to mend the time lost, as if it had never occurred. Through all the hardship I had faced trying to find the remedy to my heartache, I was dumbfounded to realise that it had been sitting in front of me, at the top of my phone’s contact list, right in front of my eyes this entire time. His eyes were calling out to me, enveloping my heart in comfort and warmth, the hunger radiating out eager to the ideation of starting anew and preserving the time in which we had lost, building new memories, unfastening the lock on the clock dictating the length of the relationship, allowing it to elongate, carry on as long as we could. My heart brimmed with homeliness - the house I was inside finally feeling normal to me once again.
"I'll see what I can do," he grins, the beautiful sight causing a small smile to erupt on my face as my body melted back into his arms once again. "No promises though."
It felt nice to wake up next to someone again the next morning, on the mattress that once was a carcass of many tears of sadness and melancholy, authentically conveyed by the essence of nihilism embodied from isolation, the kind of philosophical beliefs one could only develop an understanding towards subsequent to irrational thinking as the hours fell still, leaving you sat there, reliving the last moments from your memory bank with the significant other you had soiled ends with, a person who had supported you from the very beginning, even when things formed a bitter congestion to the relationship devoured by both participants, perhaps from the acceleration of argumentation shared, or the distance that had started to weave its way between, leaving you both stranded to conclude, as if you were both on separate, desolate islands fighting against the starvation of progressing through your lives and starting anew, departing from the old knots and attachments formed once epitomising pure adoration and love, though over time spawning to be the offspring of the devil. A person whom you knew would make your bed every morning, cradle you in his arms at the darkest hours to baptise the negativity coiled in your brain, whispering what seems like sweet nothings, merely sounding like soft raspy groans due to them being exhausted out of their mind, but you knew they were saying something to you, you could hear it, acknowledge it in a language that nobody else was able to understand. I relished in concession that he who lay beside me was the one that bestowed and epitomised all the things that I once lacked a night before. A lover.
#want 2 marry dilf damon ngl#he's literally perfect#damon albarn x reader#gorillaz#britpop#90s#nineties#damon albarn#band imagines#fluff#my writing
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whumptober No. 5
betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose
(Hockey AU)
***
He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.
Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.
“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”
Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.
If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.
Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.
And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.
MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR
The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky
His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”
It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.
“Dude, is that shit true?”
“Are you okay?”
“Do you know who it is?”
“You dog 😜”
“You never told me you were into that 👀”
“Ignore it, Buck.”
“We’re all with you.”
“Fuck that guy.”
“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”
“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”
From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.
“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”
“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”
“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”
His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.
There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.
“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”
“Have your teammates seen the post?”
“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”
Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.
Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)
Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?
Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?
Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.
Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now
🤣
And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina
{This post may contain explicit content}
😵💫
🤮
Excuse you, Gritty has standards
[98 more posts]
Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.
There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.
The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.
Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.
And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.
The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.
What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?
Were there more pictures?
It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.
When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.
The knock came again.
Then the door opened.
Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.
“Just me.”
“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.
“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”
Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.
“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”
The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”
And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”
Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.
This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.
“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.
“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”
“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.
“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”
Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.
“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”
“He’s not the only one who said it.”
“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”
Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”
His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.
“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.
“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”
He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.
“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”
Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”
There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.
As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”
“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”
One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.
Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”
“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.
“Do you want to order something from-”
The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.
“Come on, Buck, really?”
Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”
“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”
“I have to.”
“No, you-”
“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”
“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”
“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”
A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”
“No,” Eddie said.
“Yes, Eddie. I have-”
“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”
“Eddie.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”
Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.
“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.
Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.
It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.
“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”
“Really?”
“Really. I think it’s done.”
Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.
The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.
#whumptober2021#no. 5#betrayal#fic#911#hanging out at the angst end of the spectrum#911fic#evan buckley#eddie diaz#hockey au#allison can’t write a short fic to save her life#minimal edits#messy ending#questionable formatting#230 am#😴
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
desolate (13)
— summary: you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so, you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.
— pairing: cat hybrid yoongi x human reader
— genre: angst, fluff, smut
— warnings: this chapter has very a brief insinuation of dom/sub dynamics.
— word count: 5.7k
— tag list: @mrcleanheichou @ladymidnightt @cheese123344 @xanny91 @dinorahrodriguez @best-space-boy @dulcaet @moccahobi @keijaycreates @staytrillswag @xsmilebitesx @serendipityoreuphoria @jiminot7 @beyond-the-swag @nananaum1 @mult1wh0re @faithsummers11 @twomilkmen-gocomedy @theonewholovestoread @karissassirak @veryuniquenamegoeshere @yourlipssoirresistible @ayoo-bangtan @murderyoursoul @btsxdoll @see3milyblog @gukiyi @mtgforall @narcissism-iskey @sp3ak-yours3lf @cesthoney @imluckybitches @hd-junglebook @sugarrimajins @multifandomgirl29 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @bangtansleftnut @theresa-nam-nam-me @angeltothecore @ghostkat23 @deathkat657 @awixxx @httpmedxsa @veronawrites @bubbletae7 @serious-addiction @chogiyeol-utopia @nomimits7 @lorielulu7 @1am9root6 @sana-b @diamonddia-mond @jiminiessipabo @myhearttteu @rainbowmagicpixecorn @lidda @rosiethefairy @lovinggalaxies @midnight1199 @trinityautumn @linniewritesficz @fearhoshi @ess-place @juniesoftbot @kingalls00 @toribug2020 @daydreambrliever @moonlight-mochi @sleepyje0n @yoonie-bby @alltimeyoongi @honestlyfuriousharmony @itsoktheresbts @suzziequeuie @miss–insanity @illnevertrustmyselfagain @annoyingpessimist @lovelikeyouwant @originalpersonawobblerduck @cigarettes-after-tears @kookie-vuitton @thefangirlsoul @lmna990 @luvshorses08 @nanananisstuff @marvelstuck @kissmeimwitchy @crazyxforxmyself @hxsxxk-180294 @ratking101 @brittaney341 @shameless-army @yuukihime2097 @adoorinyourheart @heimdoodle @toripeix @horanghae18 @redperson58 @awsome-small-k @salomea27 @johnnystolemywig @mihto @jisoosbitch @lyrxbz @forever-once-gone @sugalarity @out-of-jams @ithinkileftmycoatoutside @witchxlove @chocoflagcutii @alyboo-jpeg @ladyartemesia @tatiiz24 @boinko-boye @kaceyxmarie74 @fuckthatfeeling @makepastanotwar13 @airiguk @justliketheoceann @strawbewymiwk @skswriting @kofikats @mhmbrigitta @forever-yoongis @prybts @phatbussyincorporated @itsmethepancake @alterlovess @boredoomfm @furblrwurblr @moments-of-melancholy @barbikatherine @crookedstarlitnight @moonlightjoonx @ibsenova-nora @aphroditis-world @ramaali1 @inhalebts @gguksfilter @kerikaaria @paradise-writings @yoongisabby @childcorrectionfacility-school @eriiiichan @baka-chanismyname @sugaesthetichoe @junasaurusrex @fluffreader @justzeera @swoozleee @heimdoodle @rainbow-zebra-unicorns @btstxtgenre
Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight Part nine Part ten (M) Part eleven Part twelve Part fourteen (M)
Simply put, you’re restless. No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, it just doesn’t seem to work. There’s always a part of you that circles back to what you’re trying to forget. It’s annoying – it’s infuriating – that even your own mind won’t let you catch break. But then again, it’s hard to forget someone who doesn’t let you do it. You aren’t sure what you exactly expected to happen after the lawsuit ended, but you sure as hell didn’t expect Yoongi to become a minor celebrity overnight.
You didn’t realize until after the trial just how much social media had been all over the cases that had been reported on, and since Mr. Park’s was the first one to go to court, the focus on it had been intense. While you used to spend your fair share of time online before, you just couldn’t find the time after you brought Yoongi home. You didn’t really have a need for it either, not when spending time with Yoongi sounded much more tempting than mindlessly scrolling down a page for hours.
But apparently, Yoongi had become a hot topic after he both testified against his mother’s murderer, and got his ownership nullified in just the span of a few hours. Ownership nullification is rare in itself, so combining those two together in one case was bound to become the talk of the town. Or more precisely - the whole country.
Mr. Yang had kindly told you to go home after the trial ended; that waiting for Yoongi at the courthouse would take too long. You had protested of course, saying that you didn’t mind it, but Mr. Yang seemed adamant that it would be the best thing to do. And so, reluctantly, you had gone home. You knew Yoongi was in capable hands, that your co-worker would help him sort through all the documents he needed to deal with and that he would bring him back home afterwards. Except .. that never happened.
You were practically hovering by your phone all day after you returned home just to make sure you knew when Yoongi would be coming home. It wasn’t until late in the evening that Mr. Yang had called you to say that the process was a little more complicated than they had first thought, and that Yoongi would need to get a lawyer of his own to make sure the nullification process went smoothly. And so, since it would take a few days and Mr. Yang’s organization had volunteered to help out, Yoongi would be staying with him until everything was finalized. You could tell it wasn’t up for debate when Mr. Yang told you – it was obvious that it was Yoongi’s decision.
So you agreed – of course. But it didn’t make it any easier. You had been desperately hoping that you could finally talk with Yoongi now that the trial was over, but for each day that passed, it just made you more and more anxious. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t want to see you again, maybe that’s why he’s not coming home, seemed to play on a loop inside your head. You had brushed it off at first, but the thought began to take up more space the longer the distance between you two went on.
Mr. Yang did keep you updated on the progress though, and you’re not ashamed to admit that you started tearing up the moment you got the message that told you that Yoongi was officially ownerless again. Even if he wasn’t a free hybrid just yet, it was a step in the right direction.
But, Yoongi still didn’t return home. It was after the nullification was official that he was contacted for interviews, and as Mr. Yang had told you, “This is an important step for people to understand that hybrids aren’t just their personal playthings. Seeing Yoongi represent himself on TV will be a huge step in the right direction.”
And it was. Because one interview turned into five, and those five turned into ten. And maybe you’ve watched every single one of them, and maybe your heart ached a little more every time you saw Yoongi’s face on the screen in front of you – so familiar, yet suddenly so untouchable. You had a small epiphany during the third interview you watched. There had been something you couldn’t put your finger on, but the realization came once the interviewer said something that made Yoongi’s gummy smile appear; something you only had seen a handful of times yourself.
Yoongi was happy.
He carried himself better, the slouch in his shoulders almost gone. The fur on his tail was shinier, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that had threatened to knock the breath out of your chest whenever he turned to look at the camera. You hadn’t seen Yoongi in a week, and he already looked so much lighter, better. You could tell a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You were so happy for him. So, so happy. But as you laid awake at night, you couldn’t help but wonder .. what if you one of the things that had been weighing him down?
You collapse onto the couch with a groan, letting your eyes fall shut for just a moment as you take in the silence in your apartment. The quietness was something you used to look forward to after a long day of work, a small break from the hustle and bustle of working in an open landscape office. But now, the silence almost feels eerily quiet. Like all the noise has just been sucked out and you’re left with nothing.
You reach out a hand to search for the blanket you know you’ve thrown somewhere over the backrest, a pleased sound leaving your lips as your fingertips wrap around the soft material. You waste no time it wrapping yourself up, the extra warmth more than welcome in your chilly apartment. You snuggle down further into your hoodie, breathing in the calming scent of your detergent. You can pretend all you want that it’s just the scent of vanilla and flowers that relaxes you, but you know deep down that it’s more than that. It’s Yoongi’s hoodie. Well, technically it is yours, but he more or less stole it away from you, and it’s not like you minded it too much. It looked better on him anyway. Yoongi packed up most of his clothes when he left to stay with Mr. Yang, and maybe it’s silly – a little sad – but it makes you feel close to him. His scent is long gone, washed away weeks ago, but it still reminds you so much off him that it doesn’t matter. It’s still comforting.
You pick up the nearby remote; turning on the TV to make sure you won’t miss anything of Yoongi’s latest interview. The program begins at six, so you’re left to mindlessly watch the abundance of commercials that plays out before it starts. Your eyes snap to attention as the intro for the program begins, your feet tapping nervously against the side rest of the couch as the host appears.
You can’t help but feel anxious for Yoongi, always a little scared that he’ll get put in a situation that will make him uncomfortable. But the cat hybrid didn’t even bat an eye at the questions that made you scoff or feel annoyed, the small smile on face never leaving his lips despite the interviewers being too invasive. So, maybe you’re worried for nothing – but you still can’t help it.
You suck in a small breath as the camera finally pans to Yoongi, the remote clutched tightly to your chest. His dark tail glistens under the studio lights, and his pale complexion has a healthy glow to it, cheeks faintly flushed with pink. He grins at the host as she introduces him, the dark green turtleneck bringing out the golden hue in his eyes. The host doesn’t exactly ask any groundbreaking questions, most of them you’ve already heard before in the other interviews Yoongi has done. There’s always a lot of ‘How do you feel?’ and ‘What will you do moving forward?’ and perhaps the best one yet, ‘What’s your grooming routine?’
They’re mostly shallow questions, and you have a feeling that the networks are more interested in having a hybrid on their show to spruce up their ratings, rather than actually advocate for any hybrid rights. But if it can at least make one more person understand that hybrid’s are as human as the rest of the population, then you suppose it’s worth it. You have a feeling that’s why Yoongi is keeping up with it too.
The next question the host asks is cut off as the screen starts stuttering, the image flickering on and off. You sit up on the couch, impatiently tapping your remote against your hand to see if that will somehow fix it. You try to switch back and fourth between channels, the screen finally going back to normal.
This isn’t the first time your TV is working against you, the thick screen severely out-dated and barely hanging on after years of use. But you refuse to switch it out until you absolutely have to – one because you’re not one for throwing away things while they still work, and two, you don’t have the money for it. You settle back against the couch as the host lets out an airy giggle, the sound making your stomach twist uncomfortably. You watch as she shifts forward in her seat, her dainty fingers touching Yoongi’s arm.
“Yoongi. Our viewers –“ Your screen goes black.
You scramble out of your blanket, kicking it away as you close the distance between the couch and the TV. You smack your hand against the side of the screen, cursing under your breath as it only begins to flicker with static. You need to hear that question. You could see it in the look the host gave him, that she was going to say something that hadn’t been asked before.
The pressure builds in your chest the longer the TV doesn’t cooperate, the force behind your hits growing stronger for each one. It can’t have been out for more than five seconds, but it’s five seconds too long. Please, please, please.You stumble back a step as the image flickers back in, the colours a little distorted but the sound working just fine. “–are you a taken hybrid?”
Yoongi’s smile falters, and then, “No.” He shakes his head, the corners of his mouth pinched, but the host doesn’t seem to notice.
“Oh? Such a handsome hybrid as yourself?” She laughs. You can feel something bubbling up your throat, your hands trembling as you retreat another step. She places her hand back on Yoongi’s arm; manicured fingers giving the fabric of his sweater a teasing tug.
“Well, do let me know if you want someone to fill that role.”
Yoongi’s ears twitch, looking like they might twist back at her words, but they don’t. And then the tightness in Yoongi’s face disappears, his eyes glittering as he grins back at the host, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
You inhale sharply, the rush of air forcing itself into your lungs making you choke as you slowly sink to the floor. The little thread of hope you were clutching on to seems to float away right before your eyes, a strangled noise leaving your lips as you watch Yoongi’s smiling face on the screen. Yoongi isn’t coming back. Why should he? You were nothing more than a glorified roommate, and after what you told him, you can’t blame him for not wanting to see you again.
A sob rips its way out of your throat, your heart feeling like it splits clean in two as the realization dawns on you. Yoongi has already let you go, so maybe it’s time that you do the same. You fumble around for your phone in your pocket; quickly pulling up your recent calls and dialling the only person that will know how to help you. You keep watching the TV screen until it grows too blurry, your tears burning against your skin as they start carving out paths down your cheeks.
The moment the call connects, you sob out a pitiful, “Jihyo? Can you please come over?”
.
“It’ll be okay,” Jihyo’s arms is wrapped tightly around your middle as she holds you close. Sana is snuggled up against your back, her careful fingers smoothing down your hair as you cry into Jihyo’s shoulder. You’re exhausted; the kind only crying for an hour straight can make you. You had blubbered out everything to Jihyo and Sana the moment they stepped inside your apartment, all the hurt and insecurities you had been bottling up for the last weeks spilling out like a waterfall.
You told them about the silence and the distance between you and Yoongi, how you had barely spoken to him even a week before the trial. And maybe the worst thing to admit, the words that you barely manage to squeeze out between your lips - is how much you like him. And how much it hurts that Yoongi doesn’t feel the same way.
Sana had let out an angry squeak at your words, her hands cupping your face as she sternly told you that it wasn’t true. That Yoongi would’ve never chosen you as a rut partner if he didn’t like you. And maybe that hurt even more, that he had liked you, your already broken heart fissuring and splintering into tiny pieces.
“Maybe he liked me then, but that was b-before he knew,” You sniffled, and Sana let out a whine in protest as she rubbed her face along your shoulders, desperate to calm you down. While scenting didn’t work for you, you still appreciated the sentiment all the same, a watery smile tugging on you lips as Sana muttered, “It doesn’t change that easily,” against you skin.
You’ve never been more thankful for your friends than you are right now. There’s still an ache in your chest you know will take a long time to heal, but having Jihyo and Sana wrapped around you makes the idea of facing it a little easier. You finally pull away once your breathing has evened out, your skin under your eyes swollen and tender.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” You wince at the hoarseness in your voice, ruffling your hand through Sana’s hair as you get up. The dog hybrid’s ears finally perk up as you give her a soft smile, the sad frown on her face melting into a blinding grin at how you seem to be feeling a little better.
You squeeze Jihyo’s shoulder as you shuffle past her on the couch, almost feeling a little unsteady on your feet from how much you’ve cried. Once you make it into the kitchen you pull out a few drinks from your fridge, always keeping a couple of bottles of Sana and Jihyo’s favourites in the back in case they come by. You ignore the growing stack of bills you pass by on your kitchen counter, pushing down the wave of helplessness that threatens to wash over you.
You’re already falling behind on your payments, and you have a sinking feeling that you might not be able to keep your job for much longer. By testifying in court you had put a target on your head, and you know your boss is more than ready to pull the trigger. He’s probably aware that you know about his corruption, and you’ve seen the nasty looks he’s been giving you over the last week. You don’t doubt he’ll be able to find something legal to fire you over, making it so that you can’t even complain about being wrongfully let go.
You shake yourself out of your thoughts before you can have another breakdown, grounding yourself in the chilled drinks pressed against your skin as you make your way back into the living room.
.
You sink back down on the couch after Jihyo and Sana leave, your dark apartment illuminated faintly by the moonlight that reaches your windows. Your back will probably kill you tomorrow, but you just can’t spend another night alone in your bed. It had always felt like just the right size before, but after sharing it with Yoongi for so long, it now just feels too big and cold. Empty.
You wrap yourself up in the same blanket as before, the emotional exhaustion of the day finally hitting you with full force as you try to make yourself comfortable. But despite it all, you still can’t fall asleep. While your body might feel tired, your mind is still working overtime, running through all the possible scenarios and thoughts it can get its hands on. You huff, pulling the blanket up even higher until it covers your nose. The living room really is too cold, but your limbs feel to heavy to attempt to move and do something about it. Just as you feel yourself begin to slip, your mind finally quieting down – your front door unlocks.
You squeeze your eyes shut, willing whomever it is to go away. God, why do you have to get robbed today of all days? You hear the door open and shut, the lock being twisted back into place. You grip the edges of the blanket tighter, hoping the intruder won’t be able to make out your form in the darkness. Your blood is rushing so loudly in your ears you can hardly make anything out, but then it feels like your body screeches to a halt the moment you hear something jiggle, the unmistakable sound of keys being dropped on the little shelf you have in your hallway. There’s only person you know off beside yourself who has a key to the apartment. Yoongi.
The familiar sound of Yoongi’s soft footsteps makes your eyes burn, the longing you thought you had managed to cry out earlier coming back tenfold as he moves closer. He pauses when he reaches the couch, your mind going blank as something plush and soft touches your forehead.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers, the soft exhale brushing over your skin before he pulls back. The words feel like lead in your stomach, the burning in your eyes almost unbearable as you keep them squeezed shut. The back of Yoongi’s hand trails gently down the side of your face once before it’s gone, and you listen as he makes his way into your bedroom, the door quietly clicking shut behind him.
You quickly press your hand against your mouth, muffling the sound of your cries. He must’ve come back to get the rest of his things. Why would he else get back to your apartment so late, and not wake you up? You use the sleeve of Yoongi’s hoodie to wipe away the tears from your face, not wanting him to know you’re awake when he leaves. If he wants to disappear into the night and not tell you, then fine. You’ll let him. You suppose it’s the least you can do.
You force your breathing to even out, trying you best to think of everything except for the hybrid in the next room. The spot Yoongi kissed on your forehead still tingles, and you can practically feel the ghost of his touch still trailing down your skin. You don’t want to be awake when he leaves. You know there’s no way you can go to sleep once you know he’s officially gone. If you fall asleep while he’s still here, well, maybe you can at least let yourself pretend one last time.
You can hear Yoongi quietly moving around in your bedroom, the mellow background noise and the knowledge that you aren’t alone proving to be just what you need to drift off to sleep.
.
You let out a confused grumble as you feel something heavy shift on your chest. The weight isn’t exactly uncomfortable, it’s just .. not something that’s supposed to be there. It must still in the middle of the night if the pitch darkness behind your eyelids is anything to go by, and the thing on top of your chest feels warm even through the blanket covering your body. Your eyes are almost glued shut from how swollen they are, and so it takes more effort than you would like to admit to get them to open up. You pry them open, slowly blinking up at the ceiling at few times to get them to focus in the darkness. You slowly tilt your head downwards, not sure what to think but definitely not expecting to find two golden eyes to be staring straight back at you.
You blink. The eyes blink back.
And then you scream.
You honestly shock yourself awake at your own volume, the creature letting out a loud hiss before something sharp swipes across your cheek. The sting makes the sound die in your throat, a strangled hiccup leaving your lips as you see the golden eyes widen in the darkness. The creature scrambles off your lap, claws skidding against the floor as it disappears into your bedroom. Hardly even a second passes before you hear a loud thud, and you twist your neck just in time to see Yoongi running out of your room – a sweater tugged halfway down his torso and a pair of sweatpants barely hanging on to his hips.
“Y/n, shit–“ Yoongi curses as he crashes into the coffee table, the sound making you wince even in your groggy state. He sinks down to his knees by the couch, fingers shaking as he reaches out to touch your cheek. Your mind feels like static, unable to comprehend what’s going on. Why is Yoongi still here? Why hasn’t he left–
“Ouch,” You flinch as Yoongi’s fingers brush across the tender skin on your face. With your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, you can see how Yoongi’s ears fall flat against his head as you pull away, his expression crumbling.
“I’m so sorry kitten, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Yoongi’s posture slouches, his hand dropping back into his lap as he hangs his head. You run your fingers gingerly along the scratch on your cheek, wincing as it burns under your touch. You take a moment to watch the top of the cat hybrid’s head, trying to commit to memory how soft the fur on his ears look and how they seem to almost glow in the soft moonlight.
“It’s fine, I just .. why are you still here Yoongi?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You shift around on the couch until you’re leaning against the backrest, facing the hybrid in front of you. If this is the last time you see him, you want to at least do it properly.
Yoongi raises his head to look up at you, dark eyebrows pulled tight in confusion as his gaze roams over your face, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You swallow around the lump in your throat, hands digging nervously into the blanket around your waist. God, does he really need you to spell it out for him? You never pegged him for being so mean.
“I haven’t seen you in weeks, Yoongi. The only updates I got were from Mr. Yang and that’s only because I asked for them,” You huff, some of the annoyance and concern you had buried bubbling back up to the surface. Yoongi seems to shrink in on himself slightly, a look of remorse flashing across his face.
“And I watched the interview – you said you weren’t a taken hybrid,” You pause, gathering up whatever little courage you have left before you let the words spill out of your mouth. “I know I was only helping you with your rut, that we never agreed on anything more than that, but still I thought that .. I thought that maybe you liked me too,” Yoongi’s tail does a quick flick behind his back, his dark eyes staring back at your silently, prompting you to continue.
You let out a shaky breath, forcing out a tight smile across you lips. “But I was wrong, and I can see that now. It was my mistake for thinking that you would want to stay; I know Mr. Yang has provided you with other places to live – better places. You’re free to leave Yoongi.” Free to be with someone you want to be with.
“Leave?” Yoongi looks like he’s bitten into something sour as he echoes you word back at you, “I know I can leave whenever I want to, but I don’t. Is this your way of telling me you’re kicking me out?”
“What? No!” You sputter.
“Then stop telling me to leave,” Yoongi says, his chest rumbling with displeasure.
“But–“ Yoongi cuts you off with a shake to his head.
“No. I don’t know what you think you heard, but it’s wrong,” He grumbles. Yoongi snatches your phone up from the coffee table; the screen illuminating the hard set of his mouth as he quickly types something out. The host’s voice fills the room before it begins to cut in and out, Yoongi skipping through the interview until he finds what he’s looking for.
“Here,” He wraps your hand around your phone, fingers tightly closed around yours as he presses play on the screen. You squint against the light, watching with weary eyes as the host leans forward to touch his arm.
“Yoongi. Our viewers have been sending in questions, and what most people seem to be wondering about is what you’re going to do now that your previous ownership was nullified. They want to know whether you’ve found a new owner yet,” You suck in a surprised breath, dread filling your stomach as you watch her pouty lips curve around the next words, “So, are you a taken hybrid?”
Heat starts creeping up your neck, embarrassment blooming in your cheeks as you realize just how wrong you were. Fuck. Yoongi taps the screen to pause the video, his slender fingers removing the phone from your grasp.
“I’m not leaving and I don’t have a new owner yet,” Yoongi states, his hands finding yours again.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back home kitten,” Yoongi’s voice softens, “I needed some time to think, and I wanted to make sure that everything was in order before I did.”
“I never blamed you for what you told me Y/n, it was just a lot to process with everything else going on.” Something soft brushes against your wrist, Yoongi’s tail gently coaxing you to look up and meet his gaze, “You were a child, there wasn’t anything you could’ve done – if anything, I think I should be thanking you.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous, why would you ever thank me for that?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, a frown settling on your face as you try to shake off Yoongi’s hands, but he doesn’t let you. He just tugs them closer to his body instead.
“Because at least someone cared enough about my mom to put her to rest. You cared,” Yoongi gives you a soft smile, his thumbs creating random patterns over your knuckles, “It’s fine if you don’t accept that right now, but I need you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened, and neither should you.”
A sense of relief washes over you at Yoongi’s words. Knowing that he doesn’t hate you, or blame you, for the actions you did or didn’t do, take what feels like a heavy weight off your shoulders.
“I– Okay,” You murmur. Even though you still feel guilty and not quite ready to accept it just yet, it’s still a comforting thing to know.
“Good,” Yoongi nods. “And the nullification took a little longer than expected, there wasn’t exactly anything that was done the right way in the original adoption,” He grimaces. “But now that I’m officially ownerless, we can finally do this right.” Yoongi releases your hands long enough to run and grab a stack of papers from your bedroom, flickering on a nearby light on his way back before he settles down next to you on the couch.
He hands you the documents silently, and you feel you eyes grow wide as you see the bold large font saying ‘Adoption request’ at the top of it. “Yoongi–“ You breathe, confusion colouring your expression as you turn to look at him uncertainly.
“I want you to,” Yoongi interjects, his dark eyes open and honest as he meets your gaze. You shake your head softly, biting down on your lip as you scan through the form. This one seems legit, pretty similar to the one Jihyo filled out when she adopted Sana.
“But you finally have the chance to be a free hybrid Yoongi, I don’t think this is right.”
“Y/n,” Yoongi sighs. “I don’t want to be one. Sure, you get rights you didn’t have before, but at what cost? The law might say you’re supposed to be a full citizen but you’re not. You think Ki-woo would still feel the need to shed his tail if the society we live in were fair to hybrids?”
Your hesitance answers for itself. “Wait – You talked with Ki-woo?” You can’t help but ask.
“Of course. Ki-woo might be a free hybrid but he still depends on Mr. Yang for most things. We talked about it a lot, and I don’t want it. Another year of courtrooms isn’t exactly tempting after these last few weeks,” Yoongi’s ear twitch, his tail doing an annoyed flick against his thigh.
“I’m not going to force you to adopt me if you don’t want to kitten, I know you never wanted a hybrid in the first place. I just want to stay here, with you.” The sincerity in his voice makes something in your stomach flutter, a certain kind of nervous excitement you haven’t felt in years.
“Of course, but I’ll .. own you Yoongi. You do realize that, right?” You grimace.
Yoongi snorts, his eyes sparkling dangerously in the low light as he tilts his head to look at you.
“And? If you’re worried about power imbalance, then don’t be,” He reaches out to slowly trail a finger down your arm, an amused smile appearing on his lips as you barely manage to suppress a shudder from his touch.
“We both know who the dominant person in this relationship is kitten, and it’s not you. You have nothing to worry about.” He grins at the half-hearted glare you give him, gummy smile at full display.
The sight makes your whole body feel pleasantly warm – the chill that you’ve been feeling in your bones for the last weeks finally chased out. But one word stands out, one that your heart desperately tries to cling to.
“Relationship?” You ask.
“Yeah. I think we did this a bit backwards kitten, but spending your rut with someone isn’t something you do lightly. There has to be a certain level of trust and attraction for a hybrid to even consider someone to be their rut partner,” Yoongi explains.
“I know it happened a little fast and that we didn’t have a chance to talk about it afterwards, but, I would like to be yours if you’ll have me Y/n. I really like you.” Your breath hitches at Yoongi’s confession, your body singing with excitement over the fact that Yoongi feels the same as you do.
You take the chance to shuffle closer, your knees knocking into Yoongi’s. Gentle hands immediately cup your face, careful to avoid the scratch on your cheek. Yoongi slowly closes the gap between you, his lips brushing so softly against yours. The gentle touch is enough to make your heart feel like it’s going to fly out of your chest. “I really like you too,” You smile against his lips, your grin widening as Yoongi hurriedly starts pressing quick pecks against any skin that isn’t covered by his hands.
“Good. It would’ve been awkward if you had changed your mind in the last ten minutes,” Yoongi huffs playfully. You let out a low snort as you pull back, grabbing one of Yoongi’s hands to intertwine your fingers. You can’t help but marvel at how perfectly you seem to fit together.
You glance at the papers in your lap, the prospect of actually adopting Yoongi legally as a hybrid and not a cat a little more daunting than you would like to admit. You give his hand a soft squeeze, his soft tail once again finding its way to your wrist. “Can you give me some time to think about it?”
“Of course kitten. Take all the time you need.”
.
The couch isn’t that comfortable, and it definitely wasn’t made for two to sleep on, but cuddled up to Yoongi’s chest, his steady heartbeat underneath your ear and his arms wrapped around your waist, you think you’ll be willing to deal with a sore back for the rest of your life as long as you can continue to have this. You press your face deeper into the fabric of his sweater, drinking in the familiar scent.
You’ve almost drifted off to sleep when Yoongi lets out an annoyed hiss, a startled squeak escaping your mouth as your suddenly flipped around. Yoongi scrunches his nose as he hovers over you, a look of disgust flashing across his face.
“I’m sorry kitten, I’ve been trying to ignore it, but you absolutely reek of dog.”
The image of Sana rubbing her face along your neck earlier pops into your head, and you can’t help but giggle, Yoongi’s eyes narrowing at the teasing sound.
You open your arms wide, tilting your head to the side as you bare your neck, presenting the spot you know Sana was snuggled up against earlier.
“Do what you need to do,” The words have barely even left your mouth before Yoongi collapses against you with a grumble – and only a few seconds pass by before you start to feel soft vibrations against your chest, Yoongi purring happily as he finally gets to cover Sana’s scent with his own.
Yeah, you think you might even be able to move mountains as long as you can stay like this forever.
- - - -
Only one chapter left to go! I know a lot of you wanted Yoongi to become a free hybrid, but Yoongi’s decision will be discussed even more in the next chapter, so don’t hate me too much just yet lol! And ah yes finally, the dorks are coming back together :)
PS. Something fun will be announced on August 1st, so remember to check back then!
As always, I hope you’re all well and my inbox is always open if you want to chat about the story or just fics or life in general! See you all soon!
In case you maybe enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖
#hybrid!bts#hybrid bts#cat hybrid yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#hybrid au#bts x reader#bts smut#bts fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Its Chirstmasssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!! I finished this up all last night, so I hope this is at least coherent!
This is for the BNHA Hangout Christmas Collab! Here is a link to future masterpost for the fics for the event!
｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
Shoto x reader | one shot
Word Count: 1.5k+
Warnings: cussing
Synposis: When Shoto realizes you’ve been particularly lonely without him during the holiday season, he decided to get you an extra special gift
the music collection | buy me a ko-fi! | requests open for haikyuu+jujutsu kaisen
｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
“Shoto-do you really have to go?”
You asked, a pout on your lips as you gazed at your boyfriend.
You were still cuddled up in your shared bed, the heat from Shoto’s skin already dissipating out of the sheets.
You pursed your lips, sitting up crossed leg as You watched him slide each button of his shirt sleeve into their slots, his washed, bi colored hair slightly wet from his shower.
“You know it’s not fair to look that good and then just leave,” you gave him a fake, stern look, earning a small smirk from the man.
He continued working up the shirt, looking sleek yet-well-delicious.
Shoto was just too handsomr for his own good-sharp jawline, perfect skin, piercing bi colored eyes, not to mention his amazing body….sometimes you had to wonder how you were able to get such a flawless man to end up with you.
He finished with his other sleeve, peeking a look at you as he slicked his hair back with his right hand, the strands mixing and framing his face perfectly,
why’d he have to look that good?
“It’s not as if I want to leave, dear-but I do have work,”
You cuddled deeper into the sweatshirt you were wearing, your hands dissappearing in the sleeves.
“But you’re always working-you cant take one day off?”
Shoto chuckled at your obvious neediness, making his way over to where you were sitting. He leaned across the bed to be in front of your sulking form, brushing a piece of your bed head from your face as he laid a gentle kiss on your lips.
“Evil doesn’t take a day off love,”
“Why do you always have to be so-so stoic all the time,” You giggled, playfully placing your hand on his chest and pushing him back.
Even though you and Shoto had been living together for over a year now, it never ceased to amaze you how much the man worked. After working at an agency after UA, Shoto had been incredibly busy-and being the #3 hero, you could see why. If it wasn’t a late night call, he was patrolling, interviewing sidekicks, training, teaching students on their hero studies, interviewing with magazines….he always had something to do.
You couldn’t get mad at him though-he had warned you in the beginning, but you were also accustomed to the hero life as well- well, somewhat.
You had gone to UA to be part of the hero suit course, and had become suit designer for the top heroes (hence how you met Shoto). You witnessed day in and day out how difficult it truly was to be a hero, even if you weren’t one yourself, so you didn’t mind when Todoroki was gone all the time. Yes, it got lonely at times, especially during the holiday season, but you made sure to keep a smile on for him.
“Don’t forget, I did take Christmas off,” Shoto gave you a small grin, his bicolored eyed searching to please you.
You smiled back, your heart thumping out of your chest as you poked him gently in the chest.
“After I asked you too,” you corrected, a teasing tone in your voice.
-And thank god too, I would have so lonely by myself,” you tried to chuckle at your remark, making the situation light.
Shoto knew you too well though-something about your voice didnt sound as happy and light as before. When you joked with him, your laughs were more cheerful and your smile was brighter-but something about you right now felt strange...as if you were holding something back from him.
Shoto’s grin turned into concern, his digits cupping your cheeks gently and guiding your eyes to look at his.
“Have you been feeling lonely lately?” He asked bluntly, your eyes growing wide.
Man-you couldn't hide anything from him.
You chuckled nervously, looking to the side, guilt beginning to fill your chest.
“I-I, no, it’s fine, really, I was only kidding,” you chuckled, your voice taking on a higher pitch.
“You don’t seem to be kidding,” Shoto bite the side of his lip, trying his best to make eye contact with you, “if you want to tell me something, you don’t have to be afraid.”
“Be afraid of the number three hero-“ You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft smirk on your lips, “-never.”
Shoto gave a small grin, worry still in his eyes. He knew something was strange about you lately, the way you seemed to be always craving for him. He hated to admit it, it boosted his ego somewhat to have you were so desperate for his touch- but he knew it wasnt healthy for you to be always missing him.
With him being a pro hero, he had quite alot more duties than most could imagine- which sadly left little for him to indulge in his own personal life. Shoto felt deeply lucky to have someone like you who understood his busy schedule, never batting an eye when he had to cancel yet another date or leave you by yourself on countless nights...but it still left a gnawing sensation of guilt sitting in his stomach.
“Im fine Shoto,” your voice broke into his thoughts, your tone gentle and sweet like a sun kissed cloud, “really.”
Shoto sighed, his thick lashes fanning his cheek. You were stubborn at times, especially when you wanted to reassure him-which only affirmed that you really werent feeling all that great as you said you were. But Shoto didnt want to push it any further- maybe you were really okay, and he was overthinking it….and he was going to be late if he didnt leave soon-
“Go kick some ass for me, kay?”
you gave him a wide smile, placing another quick kiss on his lips.
Shoto blinked a few times, a rush of adrenaline filling his body as he felt your skin against his. His lips tingled from the agonizingly quick touch-he took it upon him to give you a deeply intense kiss, the rush making you breathless.
Shoto pulled away, his eyes having the rarest glint of mischief as he stared back into yours
“Of course love,”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
“Ya ready Shoto?” You grinned, your body snuggled into your comfiest pair of pajamas and your fingers warmed by a hot cup of cocoa.
Christmas Day has finally came, and thankfully, Shoto kept his promise-he would be staying the whole day with you with no interruptions.
You were just so excited to finally have one day to selfishly love your boyfriend, and on a holiday too!
The room almost felt surreal-it was early morning, the Christmas tree you two decorated light up like a Star, class Christmas music playing in the background, homemade cookies littering the apartment in a sweet aroma and the room in a romantic warm haze of lights.
It just felt so unbelievable perfect and comfortable, Shoto looking sheepishly excited and nervous.
“I think you should go first,” you smiled up at him as he sat down next to you, black coffee snuggled into his hand (in a DynaMIGHT mug, of course gifted to him by the hero himself).
Shoto bit his lip, seemingly trying to hide a smile as he set his mug down on the coffee table.
“Not to be rude love,” he grinned, his hands gently grabbing a large box from under the tree. The paper was a shiny golden hue, snowflakes on the paper reflecting like glitter from the lights on the tree. He slide the box against the wooden floor, being strangely gentle with the contents.
“But my gift cant wait.”
Your eyebrows were knitted together, a confused grin on your lips.
The box was pretty big-what did he get you now?
Shoto never seemed to give you endlessly expensive gifts, having no concept of what was considered fancy or exorbitant- trips to places you could only dream of, hefty amounts of clothes and jewelry, merchandise from your favorite shows...hell you had to talk him out of buying you a car one time-this guy would drop anything to get you whatever you wanted.
And that made you guilty as hell whenever he did-so what did he give you this time around?
Your mind was racing as you looked at the box, trying to read whatever he was thinking about on his face.
“I swear to god Shoto if you bought me that expensive gaming system-“
He chuckled at your obviously guilty face, shaking his head as he smiled.
“No, no it’s nothing like that-“ he said, giving you a mischievous grin, “I think you’ll like it much better than that.”
You blinked a few times, your mind going completely blank.
What could be better than a PS5, Xbox, or Switch?
You looked down at the box, feeling strangely nervous as you obeyed Shoto’s wishes, slowly opening the top lid….until it rustles.
The box.
Moved on its own.
You squeaked out in surprise, your hands slamming the barely opened lid back down and looking at Shoto for help.
He had never seen you look so adorably confused in his life, a rosy hue on his cheeks as he looked at you with a loving expression.
“It’s okay,” he whispered reassuringly as he wrapped his hands nervously around yours.
You felt him guide your hands up, you both now lifting the lid off the large box.
Shoto took it and placed it gently on the ground, sitting back to watch you look into the box.
The box rustled again, your mind so utterly confused….what could make a box do that?
“Shoto I-“ you tried to ask, but all he did was nod to the box, signaling for you to just look.
You did as you were told, getting on your knees to peer inside…
A gasp left your lips, your heart beating out of your chest as you looked inside at the sweet little baby kitten playing with their bowl of yarn in the box.
“Hi baby,” you cooed in awe at the little baby, your hands scooping them out and snuggling them to your chest.
They were so soft and warm, their fur as white as a snowball with rosy pink paws.
“Oh my god-Shoto-you really didn’t- are they really-?” You were in such a state of shock, you couldn’t seem to form any coherent words as you looked at your sheepish boyfriend.
“I-I didn’t know exactly what to get you...but after seeing how much you missed me throughout the day, I thought it was fitting to get you a companion for when I’m gone,” he smiled, his digits nervously fidgeting in his lap as he waited for your approval.
You petted the little creature on your chest, it’s big doe eyes staring at you with such confusion you couldn’t help but giggle.
“Shoto…it’s perfect,” you smiled at your boyfriend, leaning in to plant him a kiss on his lips.
You giggled at his expression, clearly not expecting your show of affection as his cheeks turned a fiery red.
“I-I’m glad to here that,”
｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★
© Violetnote 2020
None of these characters or shows are my own, only the storylines and narratives I create are mine. Copying, stealing, plagiarizing, rewording, or using my storylines in other media, claiming to be your own, or reposting without my consent is not allowed.
#bnha#bnha x reader#mha x reader#shoto x reader#bnha shoto x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#bnha shoto todoroki x reader#mha shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki x reader#bnha todoroki x reader#mha todoroki x reader#shoto x reader fluff#shoto todoroki x reader fluff#todoroki x reader fluff
274 notes
·
View notes
Note
top ten twink patrick moments?
I got a little carried away, but anyway I think we can all agree that the list needs to begin with this iconic footage by Patrick Sharp!
(x)
(x)
This is twink Kaner at his peak. Just look at that smile; he knows what those dimples do to the boys.
tbh, rookie Kaner and twink Kaner are just synonymous. Just look at the material:
(x)
(x) Like Helloo?! 😭
Don’t make me get my strap-on.
(x) Look how pretty! Golden curls, blue eyes, DIMPLES, OOF!
I mean, he got called a little boy doll on the 2015 Tonight Show Superlatives. You have to be a certain kind of pretty for that.
(who approved this statement tho 😭)
Kaner decked out in pink:
He’s a bad bitch and he knows it (x)
(x) Look at those teary, blue eyes 🥺 Y’all know he got the boys wrapped around his finger. He has a twenty-four hour resting bitch devastation face. Also, he cries so easily and isn’t afraid to admit it, I love that about him.
Um, drunk Pat shaking his ass in front of the people of Chicago while being recorded on national television. The people love it, he loves it, what a tease.
Okay, moving onto a moment that takes second place: Kaner being an absolute pushover, especially when it comes to Jonny.
“Kaner, get the soda.” Damn 😳
(x)
(x) That’s a whole ass order which Kaner wordlessly complies. (The way Jonny stares at Kaner so intensely the whole time whew 🥵).
(Mhmm, okay, Havlat, I see you 👀)
And when 1988 went to pitch at a Cub’s game back in 2010, Jonny was pushing Kaner around, and Kaner was just giggling to whatever Jonny said.
Also, have y’all noticed that Kaner usually avoids eye-contact, while Jonny likes to gaze deep into your soul. As someone said before,
#why is this always their dynamic??!!#jonny trying to get kaner to look him in the eyes#and kaner always looks right as jonny is leaving#what even is that?!
(x)
This happens a lot when Jonny chirps Kaner; he looks right at him while Kaner refuses to make eye-contact. When Jonny was asked to assess Kaner’s mullet, Kaner looked ahead the whole time as Jonny and Sharpy looked him over, and even when Jonny ribbed him saying, “he can walk around looking like an idiot, that’s fine, do your thing.” LMAO Jonny 😂
Similarly, when Kaner and Panarin had a stare-off during their celly, Kaner looked away first. (x)
In the words of Nick Kypreos, “First of all, it’s a stare-off and you flinched first. You’re the one with the Conn Symthe, Cups, and the top 100, you can’t flinch first.”
(x)
We believe you, Kaner 🤥
Moving onto moments that truly define Kaner’s twinkiness and preferences:
“He [Shea Weber] was just a bear to go against. He’s so strong, he’s so big. If you ever gotten into a corner with him, there was no way you were coming out with the puck. Or if you do, you’re gonna take some pretty big punishment to make that happen...He’s just so, like, physically punishing.” Okay, Kaner 😳
Bless them for sending Kaner out on ice next to the big guys who had their skates on, lol. Serves him right for being a twinky little boy. And of course they put him next to Shea Weber 👀
(x) OMG he’s so tiny.
Here’s more tiny Kaner without skates on, this time next to his boy Jonny 🥰 (x)
How tall is Patrick according to Jonathan?
(x) He’s tiny af, Jonny agrees (and so does Patrick.) From Kaner’s smile, you can tell he already knew what Jonny was gonna say. Also, Kaner’s a pretty boy, he stunnin’ ✨
Don’t get me started on when Kaner came about describing Auston Matthews. I think anon says it best: “There's this mini movie called I Am Auston Matthews and there's a bit where they interviewed other players. And Patrick says something along these lines 'he's [Matthews] a man. He's so big. I don't think you realise it'. It's just the twinkiest thing ever...It’s truly better than I remembered. Everyone’s talking about his game and Pat’s in a league of his own.”
LMAO, that last bit. Pat is just wildin’ here, man. That’s all he thinks when he sees someone bigger than him. Like Kaner, calm down, we get it: your type is big, burly men who can have their way with you.
#I know this was supposed to be top ten#but I included all the posts that really stuck with me#and they're not necessarily in any particular rank#I hope y'all enjoy this#it was an effort gathering all the moments#pretty fun tho#once I started#I couldn't stop#the power twink kaner holds#patrick kane#jonathan toews#1988#anonymous#answered#p;
388 notes
·
View notes
Text
Someome asked me what the gcest thing is about. Devided to share bevause it was loooong. I am bad at editing on phone. Soz. Hopefully the timeline is more.or less ok.
Gcest 101:
An interesting journey into the human psyche re: childhood abuse and its consequences, intense rivalry, opposite personalities, attachment disorders, fame, sex appeal, massive ego, decades of heavy drug abuse, lots of banter, love, songs about sibling incest (sister lover, guess god think I'm abel), beating the shit out of each other, and also making out live on stage with tongue.. Verbal spats and crying on stage... Also being one of the biggest, and definitely most notorious bands in the world (Oasis).
Eventually, one bro ditching the band after another violent clash, and leaving their brother completely, forever.. Well, 12 years and counting so far.
The bro who left, Noel, went solo to great success.
The dumped bro, Liam, carried on with the band under a new name, beady eye.
Both savaged each other in the media for years.
Despite never seeing each other and "hating" each other, interestingly they seemed to be having a back and forth communication through their songs. Some of it not even trying to be subtle.
Eventually Liam's band failed, he ruined his marriage, his life was falling apart. He reached out to his bro through media and told him he loved him and wanted his bro back. Also went through mutual contacts, probably their mother. Noel essentially told him to get fucked. Liam responded with calling his wife a witch, and Noel a cunt, etc etc.
Liam licked his wounds during all this for 4 years as his life blew up around him, which he described as being in hell. During this he got filmed on a phone in an Irish pub singing with the locals, a song he'd just written. A soft, morose little tune called 'Bold'. Liam was not known as a songwriter really, or soft. So the public were intrigued. It seemed to maybe be about his bro... It went viral.
Suddenly he had a record deal and has his album went to no. 1. As did his next 2. During this, he called Noel a cunt and then begged for oasis to get back together in the next breath. Noel responded badly. They both lost their shit in media towards each other.
Liam througout his whole comeback is known for nasty twitter sprays whilst drunk or depressed. Noel has given interviews saying he wanted Liam's house to burn down, he's an embarassment, filthy narcissist, etc etc.
Present days, Liam is still asking for his brother back. The pressure on Noel is enormous - which he obviously resents. Liam seemingly won't ever back down until Noel finally meets him.
Meanwhile, this whole time there's been a back and forth of songs that seem to be about each other. Most of them surprisingly touching... Most obviously 'One of Us' song and video (Liam Gallagher).
In Noel's last interview hebtalks about a movie about Oasis called Knebworth (because thry oerformed there, and performing to a sellout crowd at Knebworth is touted as a never to be repeated huge deal).
In the interview Noel gushes that Liam "is the best thing in it". This is so uncharacteristically positive, that the surprised host comments that this sounds like an olive branch to Liam. Noel insists it isn't, and in the end concedes, "It's a little fir tree".
Days later Liam announces he's headlining THE Knebworth. Many pan him as dellusional. When the tickets go on sale, it sells out immediately. They add another night, which also sells out immediately.
No comment from Noel since.
And there you go.
11 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
readingrecap
Recapping everything in Reading, MA
crazy-goose
Grazy Goose
paradise-estate
every pony dreams of living in paradise
theprivatecapote
The Private Capote
hycraft
Hy