Tumgik
#This would include hiding his phone so he can’t work when he’s exhausted
Text
I wish there was a fic about Steph constantly overworking himself and the team banding together to take care of him, but having to do it sneakily because he refuses overt offers of support.
14 notes · View notes
Text
ೃ⁀➷ look at me! look at me!
↳ ❝ ¡love and deepspace idol! au headcanons! ❞
Tumblr media
·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
linkon city, the hotspot for new and upcoming talent. the city is restless, many calling it “the city of dreams”. ambition and passion are what fuel the city, it’s vibrant culture making it alluring to many. you and your best friend tara are debuting in the most anticipated girl group of your generation, hunt:ress. with your manager caleb and your groupmates by your side, this journey should be smooth sailing…
right?
fans tend to pit boy groups and girl groups against each other— it did not take long before your group hunt:ress was dragged into that mess. specifically with a particular boy group— after a clip of the recently debuted group brushing past yours without a second glance at an award show went viral, the boy group eVOL was never far when hunt:ress was mentioned. hell even variety and award shows were humoring the spectacle by having the two groups up to announce awards or interviews. that’s where you met the group’s maknae, xavier.
when i tell you— y’all looked at each other like ONCE and the masses were making edits, making blogs and analysis videos, writing fanfiction, whole nine yards
but of course with the people who thought y’all were cute (despite never actually having a conversation with one another) came his fans who gave you unnecessary hate, they’re ruthless
with the way your group was pitted against eVOL, other fans just thought y’all had beef (think the alleged jeongyeon v. jimin beef type of level LMAOOOOO)
no but seriously eVOL fans conspired with hunt:ress fans about you and xavier being together so much that caleb had to give the company your phone to search through just to make sure
rumors get so bad that they put you on house arrest shortly after some rabid xavier biases run you out of a cafe (it made the news)
eVOL’s company reaches out to yours with a half hearted apology, however they won’t won’t release a public statement because “that would only feed into it” and hope that the situation blows over
unbeknownst to both companies— xavier finds a way to reach out to you through your old phone (that you hide because you didn’t want to give up your old life just to become an idol) and apologizes for his fans behavior
the two of you actually start to talk since you’re not exactly allowed to go out the dorms save for group outings and music/award shows, he’s been the first person you’ve been able to actually talk to, it was refreshing
you find out despite his baby face— he is not the maknae and is actually the oldest member but his company’s trying to keep that public perception of him (yeah they’re weeeeeird)
you start to confide in each other and talk about idol life but also just random things, he’s a comforting presence in a world where everyone’s eyes were on you
you sometimes text him all night coming to practice absolutely exhausted, tara’s the first one to suspect something is going on
tara actually runs one of y’all’s ship pages LMAOOOOO
when your group wins an award for best new music, he’s the first person who congratulates you (the footage is clipped and before the end of the night it’s viral)
one of the reasons why hunt:ress was so well received was because of their visuals. the girls were pretty, sure— but whoever their stylist was? they were working overtime. there is not a single ‘flop outfit’ compilation or blog about any of you girls. one of your group’s performance outfit goes viral however everyone can’t stop talking about how it captured your aura and stage presence perfectly, it went viral catching everyone’s attention— including someone interesting. your company had ties to a famous designer who rarely showed his face, seemed like he’d just design clothes and have them modeled and call it a day, did not bother to even go to fashion showcases where his work would be the main event. but then he saw a clip of you in his work go viral— he had to see it for himself. that’s when you met rafayel.
when you heard that the designer of all your performance outfits wanted to meet you specifically you were nervous, after all this had to be some respectable man
let’s just say you were a bit confused when you showed up to his studio that looked like a tornado had ran through it— everything was strewn around
in its wake? an attractive young man who was probably the last person you’d think would be the person responsible for your group’s outfits
he’s an audacious man, skipping all pleasantries to immediately ask about your measurements
he asks for your chest size first and you resist the urge to chuck a nearby thread spool at him
you start to interrogate him, there’s no way that he’s the decorated designer that’s well respected in the industry… right?
but despite his demeanor, you can’t argue with his skill when he pulls out a dress that immediately catches your eye— you’re itching to try it on
he snickers at your wide eyes and tells you to change into it (he makes a joke about how he wouldn’t mind dressing you himself and you give him the craziest look)
once you’re all dressed up you step away from the changing room, doing a little twirl as you showed off his work
he was in awe, videography did you no justice compared the real deal— he shamelessly asks you to drop your idol career to be his model, his muse
and just when you thought you couldn’t give this man any more crazy looks
you really couldn’t deny it though, it was almost as if his work was made for you— the dress complimented you deeply
but alas you had worked extremely hard to get to where you were now, no amounts of flattery would coax you out of it
no matter to him, he wasn’t one to give up so easily. in a sea of fish, you were quite the catch
eventually he convinces your company to “lend” you to him as his model— the company agrees because not only is the versatility of idols really important but also free promo lolz
he now starts to attend these fashion shows so he can bask in your presence showing off his work, people whisper about the man who manages to get the best seat every time wondering who he is
at the end of every show he’s waiting for you with a bouquet of flowers, you always accept them joking about how it was just another failed attempt at him trying to get you to be his permanent model
little did you know that that wasn’t the only thing he was gunning for
whenever the question “who’s the most hardworking?” would arise in group interviews, without a doubt your fellow members would answer your name. your trainee days were rough, strict diets, endless hours of practice, appointments with vocal coaches, promo— you took it all in stride with no complaints. nowadays as a debuted idol in a well performing group, you still couldn’t help but watch what you ate, practice until your muscle ached, finding every opportunity to better yourself. tara often tried to reassure you that you already were good enough and that it was alright to be gracious and lenient towards yourself. you appreciated her words but you were fine, it wasn’t nearly as bad as being a trainee. that mindset eventually landed you in trouble causing you to collapse at a pre rehearsal for a music show. fortunately with no footage, rumors of your company potentially mistreating you only had the questioned credibility from word of mouth. eventually coming to with an iv connected to your arm and caleb scolding you for never taking breaks, your company insists that your group does the next few music shows without you so you can rest. before you can protest, a doctor that’s introduced to be your primary care walks in. that’s when you’re reunited with zayne.
you’re still a bit groggy but you recognize those pensive green eyes anywhere
he tries to not cross the line of a patient doctor relationship but the minute caleb leaves he gives you an exasperated look
he makes a quip that despite all these years later you still are inadequate in taking care of yourself
you grew up in the same small town as him and went to school together, of course he left for medical school while you perused your dream— who knew that you’d reunite in the big city
despite being in for mild dehydration and being treated for it with the iv, he insists on doing a full exam which gets you nervous and rightfully so, he’s very thorough
and lo and behold— he unravels your secret that you’ve kept from your company, your chronic illness
when auditioning and being signed on as a trainee the medical records you had submitted were from a shoddy doctor who never ran any tests
you beg him not to rat you out, after all you had made it this far with not a single person suspecting a thing
he’s very adamant about letting your company know, he tries to reassure you that the more room for accommodation for you the better but you cut him off pleading
he didn’t know how ruthless the industry was— you’ve seen plenty of popular groups put members in indefinite and unfair hiatuses for something beyond their control, if it wasn’t your company than the general public would know you as the sickly idol
you had worked too hard for it to come crashing down like this and his cold eyes softened in realization
he let out a sigh before begrudgingly agreeing to keep your secret, reminding you that you had been lucky that he was employed by the hospital rather than your company who by under contract he’d have to tell
he also makes a condition, you would have to start taking care of yourself more— if you ever landed in a hospital bed with another iv in he wouldn’t hesitate to let your company know of your state
you thank him profusely, you had worked far too hard for this. he knows because this had been your dream since you were children
you offer him to lunch in the upcoming weeks as a means to catch up, he only agrees under the guise that he can keep an eye on your condition while making sure you actually eat
❀° ┄───╮
a/n: wowza that was a lot 😵‍💫
y’all i love this game so much it’s not even funny— zayne my beloved pookie bear oml
i hope y’all enjoyed this fr, maybe i’ll write something(s) inspired by this au and hopefully expand on some of the headcanons ‼️
if y’all get some inspiration off of this pls tag me i wanna read yalls work so badlyyyy okay bye guys mwahhhh 🫶🏾
╰───┄ °❀
383 notes · View notes
Text
WYD 1
Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Summary: A fan makes an offer your can't refuse.
(based on suggestion he's been overworking himself for weeks if not months. He knows he needs a break but his work is too important. Maybe what he needs is someone to take care of him so he can focus more on work. from @thezombieprostitute)
Characters: Bucky Barnes
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Tumblr media
You can’t help but grin as you scroll through the comments. There aren’t many but those that are there give you that rush of adrenaline. More so, the interaction is great for your wallet.
As a faceless creator, your interaction is limited. You prefer the smaller community. Your might not be the most lucrative account on OnlyFans but it pays your rent, just about.
It’s the only secret you’ve ever had in your life and it’s a big one. You don’t think anyone would believe it. Not you. Not the librarian’s assistant on part-time salary in her corduroys and stuffy oversized cardigans.
It wasn't exactly an opportunity you were fond of, more of a last resort. You don’t fantasize about the men on the other side of the screen, as flattering as they can be. They have a similar sort of desperation, but the crux of it is somewhat more pitiful.
It’s the private message waiting for you that surprises you. That alone is behind a paywall, a feature many users forego when they’re only there for the quick wank. You shudder at the thought, often avoiding that reality of your side hustle.
You’re nervous to check but alone in the stacks, with not much else to do, your curiosity gets the best of you. You tap the icon and bring up the chat from BB. No profile pic, no info, just a message.
‘Are you interested in a private arrangement? 5k/week guaranteed.’
Great, a scam. You roll your eyes and close the app. Stupid. But why would someone pay for content just to try to con you. It’s a pretty big gamble.
You tuck away your phone and sigh, pacing up and down the aisle. The soft flutter of pages and stagnant silence. It’s so dull, you’d rather deal with anything else for the minimum wage and uncertain hours. Still, the freedom lets you tend to your other business.
A few minutes later, out of habit, you bring out your phone again. You linger in the blindspot of the cameras and unlock it. The app pops up as you left it. Another message.
‘Don’t leave me on read.’
The demand startles you. You should just block but you know that it’s money in your pocket. You’re not gullible, more greedy.
‘5k? Okay, sure.’
You press send and hide your phone behind your back and wander on. Your insides squirm. You’re not stupid enough to believe it. You look again at the end of the next shelf.
‘If you want more, we can negotiate. We’d have to meet to do that.’
You scoff aloud and quickly look around. There’s no one there to be disturbed. You evasively sit at one of the desk and hide behind the wooden cubicle that encloses it.
‘I’m not stupid’, you reply.
‘No, but you’re gorgeous. Pick the place. Let’s talk.’
‘Good luck finding whatever you’re looking for but it’s not with me,’ you type, skin razed and speckly.
‘I mean it.’
‘You’re not real. Your 5k is less real. Save your money and stop messaging.’
You wait, watching the screen. Your ears prick as you listen to the lull of the forgotten library. You can hear a cart rolling a few aisles back. You can’t get caught on your phone again.
A new notification blips up in the app before you can black the screen. ‘BB sent a tip’. You click it without thinking and bring up the tip; $1,000. A thousand? A message pops down and you quickly flick the chat back over the screen.
‘Believe me now?’ He challenges.
You take a breath and lock your phone, tucking it up your sleeve as you stand and turn down an aisle, passing the approaching cart as you refuse to look at the employee behind it. You go to the catalogue computer and pretend to tidy the little paper slips and pencils. You wait until the wheels squeak onward.
You slide your phone out and press your fingertip against the censor. The screen opens and the next message taunts you.
‘Give me a place and time’.
You hesitate and peek around, paranoid that others could read your mind just by looking at you.
‘Send a pic. Then I’ll meet,’ you counter.
‘You first, doll. Face for a face.’
You don’t like this and yet, you’re messaging.
‘After you,’ you insist.
No answer. You shake your head and put your phone back under your cuff. You carry on and head up the stairs to the next level. When you look at your phone again, there’s a response waiting for you.
A man with bright blue eyes and a sculpted jawline. Handsome, almost breathtakingly so. Your surprise is undergirded by your insecurity. Well, might as well send your own and let him change his mind. You scroll through your miniscule collection of selfies that don’t make you cringe and send one off.
You can’t look away as you wait. You know what’s coming. Rejection. Finally…
‘Place, time. Make sure to buy yourself something nice.”
You stare at his answer, dumbfounded. Are you really going to do this?
449 notes · View notes
slytherinshua · 8 months
Text
PAMPERING
genre. fluff. period comfort. warnings. mentions of cramping. pairing. vernon x fem!reader. wc. 1k. a/n. bro this period has been like 💀 cramps are insane 😭 hopefully this comforts whoever else is suffering rn (like me) mom i want a vernon ☝️
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“Are you cramping?” Vernon guessed, watching you walk through the door and absolutely crash on the couch next to him. 
You nodded, masking the pain you were experiencing as you decompressed from the exhaustion of the day. It was hard to be patient with the amount of moodiness that came with your cycle, and that certainly didn’t help you when it came to your job. Your emotions were all over the place, and it took all your willpower to not break down crying right then and there. You felt so tense and uncomfortable.
“You made it through the day. You can relax now.”
“No, I can’t. Seungkwan invited us both to a party, remember? We have…” You checked your phone for the time, groaning when you saw it, “30 minutes before we have to be in the car. It’s a 20 minute drive.”
“Babe.” Vernon muttered, pulling you to his chest, pressing a short kiss to your temple, “There’s absolutely no way I would choose going to a party over taking care of my girlfriend.”
“You RSVP’d, though.” You whispered.
“Yeah? And you’re in pain. So, no way.” He kissed your nose and stood up, making his way to different parts of the house to get all the things he needed to properly take care of you. 
Vernon had learned a lot of new things about himself when he started dating you. First of which was that he liked taking care of you. He liked giving, and he liked seeing you receive the love you deserved. He never hesitated to take the best care of you only because he enjoyed it.
He had never thought of himself as a selfless person, but before you, he never had a person to give himself to. He never thought he would get into a relationship before he met you. Dating was far from his top priority, and he had never experienced what it felt like to be in love. But as soon as he met you, he had fallen so hard. He loved every little thing about you. 
To him, you were perfect. 
He now understood why humans obsessed over love, why they spent their entire lives seeking it out and cherishing it. Every second he spent with you was timeless, and he had learned to cherish every day he got to spend with you.
Those included the bad days, like today. On bad days, Vernon was determined to do everything in his power to make your day just a little better.
He was back by your side quickly, placing a box of things on the coffee table and crouching down to be at eye level with you. He held out his arms and you gave him a confused look.
“What?”
“Come on. I’ll carry you to bed.” He smiled.
“Vernon!” You curled up a bit, hiding your flushed face behind your hands, “I can manage to make it up the stairs.”
“You’ve had a long day, come on.” He coaxed you until you opened your eyes again, peeking up at him. In one swift motion he scooped you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. It was a quick trip up the stairs and within a minute he was gently placing you back down, making sure your head lay comfortably on the pillows.
You shrinked at the feeling of another painful cramp spiking and Vernon frowned. He adjusted the pillows, making sure they were fluffed to your liking and comfortable enough. 
“Y/n, rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10.” He instructed, tone completely serious.
“Is this really necessary?” You questioned as Vernon handed you a warm heating pad to place over your stomach.
“Just do it, babe.”
You thought for a moment, “I guess maybe a 4?”
“Are you sure? I heard women often downplay the pain they experience on their period.” He quipped, “I’ll take your 4 to be a 6.”
“Vernon, what about your work? Didn’t you say you were going to finish something today?” You suddenly recalled a conversation you had with him this morning. He had definitely said he needed to finish a project by the end of today.
“Y/n, I told you already, you’re more important to me than work. Today, I just want to take care of you, okay?” He told you, brushing some hair away from your forehead and tucking it behind your ear. “Chamomile tea is supposed to help ease cramping, so I put the kettle on. It should be ready in 5 minutes. You’ll drink it, right?”
You smiled bashfully, “Thank you…”
“I can dash to the store to get some chocolate… or we could watch a drama? Anything you want.” His mouth curved up at the sight of your smile and he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.
You really had everything you could have asked for. Snuggled cozily under the covers with a heat pad, a cup of tea and chocolate bar, one of those slice-of-life smalltown k-dramas playing in the background, and most importantly, your boyfriend to cuddle with.
“You’re setting the standard too high, you know?” You mumbled into Vernon’s chest, feeling drowsier by the second. You had been lying there with him for over an hour, content to just breathe in the scent of his cologne on his hoodie and relax until you finally got tired enough to sleep. “If we ever break up, my next partner won’t even be able to compare to you.”
“Good thing we’re not breaking up then.” He replied, pausing his scrolling on his phone to glance down at you when you didn’t say anything. Vernon observed that you were already half-asleep by your deepened breath, and he laughed softly at the thought that you probably didn’t hear what he said. He quietly turned off the k-drama and pressed a kiss to the top of your head— more than willing to let you sleep curled up next to him for however long you needed.
↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @edensgardenn
314 notes · View notes
blainesebastian · 2 years
Text
coffee cart girl (pt10)
words: 6,653 ship: austin x female reader summary: you’re the coffee runner on the set of Elvis. Coffee deliveries run pretty easy, until Austin accidently spills coffee on you. notes: well this is it! the last part of CCG :) previous parts under this tag!  warnings: sexual instances, but pretty SFW  tag list: under the cut! sorry if links aren’t working, refer to the link above if needed.
A lot can happen in a short amount of time. Lately, you feel as if you understand this better than anyone.
Elvis has been out in theaters for about two weeks and it’s been an endless, revolving door of good chaos since then. Austin’s booked for interviews, events, talk shows, and auditions. Some things you go with him to, either by specific invite or by him including you as his date. It’s been one hell of an experience but you’ve still managed to keep a low profile, or as low as possible, Austin doing his best to also shield you from becoming saturated in his world.
Your name is out there—it’s on articles, pap photographs, social media. You’ve had to turn your profile private to gain a little sanity until you figure out what you want to do. There’s an influx of followers, DMs, and you know it has nothing to do with you but rather wanting the attention of Austin through you. You juggle everything you can, you’re beyond happy for Austin’s accomplishments and don’t regret a single decision you’ve made.
But sometimes it can get a little overwhelming, especially when you allow yourself to go down the black hole of online commentary.
Sometimes it’s unavoidable, as much as you try to. Your scrolling feed is constantly taken up by candid photos of you and Austin—some fan accounts, some decidedly not. Some people are so kind—raining compliments on you, your relationship, and Austin’s role as Elvis. Even though you don’t require anyone’s approval, you have to admit that it…sometimes feels nice to see things like that? Which means, on the opposite end of the spectrum, it feels just as terrible when nasty things are said.
With your name being out there, people dig into your past, into anything they can find about you—there’s a lot of shit talking about how Austin is too good for you and that he shouldn’t be stooping to a lower level to date someone below him. It’s utterly ridiculous, you know that—these comments come from vile emotions and jealousies and it’s so stupid to even give it an inkling of your time.
But you’re human and words hurt.
Sometimes you really miss the privacy of those early days when it was just you and Austin hiding out in his trailer between coffee deliveries on set.
You can hear Austin get off the phone with Baz in the other room of your apartment, making his way back to being in bed with you. You’re lying on your stomach, pillow underneath your arms as you feel the mattress dip. Exhaustion is pulling at your nerve endings, making the words you’ve read hit a bit harder than maybe they usually would. You can feel Austin pause a moment, maybe seeing the screen of your phone before you set it down on the nightstand. He mimics those actions with his own phone, a sigh leaving his mouth as his body blankets yours.
Sandalwood mixed with his own scent slips over you as his arms wrap around your shoulders. You sniffle, wiping your face with one hand as his body completely maps along yours under the covers. He’s quiet, his hand working along your shoulders before he presses a kiss to the back of your head.
“I really wish you wouldn’t look at that crap.” He says softly, voice a deep timbre, comforting.
The weight of his body is warm and you turn your head a little as his lips brush along your temple, moving to press a few kisses down your cheek and along your jawline.
“I know,” You whisper, “Can’t always avoid it.”
Austin’s quiet for a few moments, mostly just the sound of your shared breathing, his hand working through your hair while the other creates a circle of movement from rubbing along your arm to squeezing your shoulder blade.
“Remember what I told you the first time this happened?” He asks.
You swallow over the lump in your throat but there’s a ghost of a smile on your lips. You sniffle again, wiping a tear track off your cheek before nodding, “You and me.”
“Only opinions that matter,” Austin nods, squeezing you. “I know it hurts, m’not saying you can’t be upset by it, but they don’t know you.”
You let that settle inside you for a few moments before shifting underneath him. He leans up so you can more easily move your body, lying on your back to look up at him. Austin lays down beside you, on his side, his one leg entangling it with yours as his hand rests along your stomach. Keeping himself propped up on his other arm, he looks down at you, some of his blondish curls resting over his forehead.
“But you do?” You ask, reaching out to touch one of them with your fingers.
He smirks lightly, his hand moving from your torso to run his thumb along your lower lip. “Like to think I do at this point,” Your press a kiss to the pad of his thumb, “Your nose crinkles when you’re mad about somethin’ trivial—like when they got rid of that alien movie on Netflix that you were watchin’.”
You roll your eyes, “I wasn’t finished with it yet—”
He continues, a small smile on his lips, “You’re obsessed with fish at aquariums which…I find kinda weird yet endearing at the same time. You drink your coffee with too much cream, you got one ticklish spot along your lower back, and I’m pretty sure you could eat a whole carton of mint-chocolate ice cream if given the chance.”
You laugh softly, your cheeks splotching pink even though you’re totally not ashamed of your quirks…and it seems like Austin isn’t either. He knows you, sees you, even darker parts that you sometimes don’t want to claim, but he doesn’t look away.
There’s just…this almost overwhelming feeling in your chest, exploding warmth that seems to touch every part of you as Austin talks. You love him—the words rest on your tongue but dart to hide underneath it. You’re not sure you can say it outloud, not yet.
“You could eat a whole carton of ice cream too,” You tease, playing with his hair again, “I dunno why you’re puttin’ that all on me.”
Austin chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest and vibrating gently against your body. Cupping his cheek, you lean up to kiss him, drawing him down until he’s lined up perfectly against you. Some things are just automatically going to hurt, people are going to say things they got no business saying—but the point is? You can’t let it change you.
Drawing your hands up and under his shirt, he leans up lightly to take it off, tossing it aside. He’s read your mind, smiling as you nip at his lower lip, this thin gold chain he’s been wearing around his neck dangling over you as your lips are joined together once again. Neither of you can keep your hands off eachother, mouths moving quicker as breathing picks up, a soft moan leaves your throat as you feel him roll his hips down into yours. Clearly that’s his intention because there’s a soft smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth,
“Don’t tease.” You mumble and he hums in response.
He peppers kisses along your jawline and neck as more layers of clothes are removed between you, his fingers slipping between your legs and carefully working you open before he slides inside. There’s a moment of no movement, just clutching one another, a harsh breath leaving your lips as your legs wrap around him. He holds himself up so he’s not crushing you, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth before he begins to move.
There’s no drawing this out, you both know what the other needs and wants, your back arching slightly as his hips roll down. Clutching at his back, your breath stuttering in your throat, your eyes squeeze shut when his hand moves down between you, finding a bundle of nerves with his fingertips. Pleasure rolls into your body like a drug, slow at first and then quick and steady, his own following.
Once your bodies stop moving, a thin sheen of sweat sticking to skin, you reach up and run your thumb along his jawline, kissing him gently. Your fingers move into his hair, drawing it away from his face as he moves to lie down beside you.
There’s a mixture of emotions resting at the bottom of your ribcage and you know it has everything to do with endorphins heightening how you feel. Or maybe that’s not quite fair or accurate—you’ve been with Austin for a decent amount of time now, friendly a lot longer than that, you’ve come to know him as he knows you. So it’s not quite out of the blue for you to say,
“I love you.” And the skin on your chest splotches pink as you look away. You don’t want to take it back but you suddenly feel the need to explain or oversimplify, “Must be all that talk about ice cream and the uh—orgasm didn’t hurt.”
Austin smirks, cupping both sides of your face with his hands. He leans close, waiting until your gaze meets his, “Love you too baby.” He mumbles, his voice reaching deep in your chest and squeezing. You roll your eyes a little at the pet name but you’re smiling.
Falling asleep next to him has never felt so good.
--
Lingering in Austin’s kitchen in a pair of soft shorts and one of his t-shirts, you lean against the counter with your hair back in a messy bun. You’ve made these ginger molasses cookies that are totally out of season but one of your favorite things to pull the ingredients together for. The icing is addictive and you’re currently licking it off a spoon while waiting for the tester cookie in the oven. There’s an Elvis record playing in the background because ever since you saw the film, you can’t quite get some songs out of your head.
And there’s a ninety percent chance that if an Elvis song is playing around Austin, sometimes he sings along…and that’s a treat for everyone involved.
Speaking of, as you check the time, he should be headed home soon after another late-night talk show interview. You were supposed to come with to linger in the audience or backstage but a migraine hit you at the last moment—you’re definitely feeling a lot better but kinda bummed that you missed seeing him in one of his elements.
He just carries those interviews with such a matter of charisma, grace, and humbleness that it’s sort of addictive to watch. Not even to mention his handsome, boyish smiles, and the easy way he handles so many conversations.
The oven dings and you move to take the test cookie out, setting it on a plate on the stove as you hear the front door open and close. Looking over your shoulder, you smile as Austin wanders into the kitchen, dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit, black-mesh button down shirt underneath. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way your heart skitters in your chest or your stomach flutters when you see him,
“Cookies?” He asks before you hum in response.
Austin puts a shopping bag down onto the counter, moving around the island table to lean down and press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, leaning into the touch as he cups your cheek,
“You feelin’ better?”
“Less like my head might explode, so yes,” You lick your lips, pushing yourself up onto your toes to kiss him properly.
Austin uses that time to sneak his hand along the plate in front of you to steal this cookie and you push him slightly with your body to pin him to the counter, playfully tapping his wrist with the spatula you’re holding.
“Really?”
There’s a cheeky smile there already on his lips, “C’mon, I want somethin’ sweet.”
“I can give you something sweet.” You flirt in response and he smirks. Before you can even do anything about it, he lifts you up to sit on the counter. “Hey!” Laughing, “The cookies need to go in the oven, no time for this.”
Austin moves to pick up the tray you’re referring to, putting it in the oven. He tries to return to you but you’re motioning for the timer, in which he huffs and sets the desired time before moving to slip between your legs. You’re almost the same height now, your hands falling to his shoulders to feel the fabric of his suit jacket.
“I’m sure you were causin’ riots in this mesh shirt you got on.”
His cheeks turn the softest of pinks, shaking his head as he dips his chin down a little to press a kiss to your fingertips once he lifts one of your hands. “Was only thinkin’ about one girl’s opinion.”
You hope he knows he doesn’t have to do that—you trust him around fans and other people even though you can’t deny the heat that slips into your belly when he says stuff like that. “Well I can definitely help you take it off—that’s one of my first opinions about it.”
Austin hums, at the very least sliding off the suit jacket and setting it along the back of a chair within arm’s reach; that’s nice of him. “Now all of a sudden we’re not worried about the cookies?” He teases, clasping your chin and leaning down to press a quick kiss before pulling back a little. “I do got somethin’ I want to tell you.”
You pout a little to which he smirks and thumbs over your lower lip.
“Good and bad news—what do you want first?”
Blegh, that instantly makes you feel uneasy. The look on his face isn’t giving terribly awful vibes? So hopefully whatever he’s got to tell you isn’t life shattering. You crinkle your nose,
“Uh, I dunno—good? No wait. Bad—I want bad first.”
He smirks lightly before nodding—there’s a dramatic pause and you’re almost ready to smack his chest, “Store was out of those mini muffins you like, checked before I came home—”
You gasp out a laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder which makes Austin laugh too, “Is that seriously the bad news? Jesus, Austin.”
“Good news?” He doesn’t miss a beat, leaning forward to hold your gaze, his hands resting on your thighs. “I handed off your script to Baz and he has a producer who wants to work with you.”
It takes a moment for the information to register, slowly blinking at him because…no, really?
“Seriously?” You ask quickly, “Like—for real?”
Austin smiles because, “I’m not gonna joke about somethin’ like that, Y/N.”
A sharp sound leaves your lips, a grin breaking out onto your face until you’re throwing yourself forward into Austin’s arms. It’s slightly too fast and awkward but he catches you, a chuckle rumbling in his chest as he holds you close. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, squeezing so tight, his cologne mixing with the smell of ginger cookies in a ridiculously delicious way.
There’s so much excitement bubbling up in your chest that you barely register when Austin puts you back down on the ground, cupping your cheeks with both his hands. He’s smiling down at you, his nose crinkling from pure affection,
“I’m so proud of you.” He says and it makes a lump appear in your throat that you quickly swallow over. He peppers a few kisses on your face as the oven dings that the cookies are ready.
Today’s a pretty perfect day.
--
He’s late.
In hindsight, you maybe shouldn’t have shown up to the bar you are supposed to meet at ten minutes early but it was one of those things where you didn’t have much to do at home other than to get ready for your night out. Austin has been knee-deep in interviews lately, sometimes about Elvis, sometimes figuring out what his next project is—you know he’s been stretched a little thin, running around places and still at the same time supporting what you got going on with this script.
It's in early development stages and you’re trying not to get too ahead of yourself but…you’re pretty certain something legit is going to come out of this. Only a matter of time, effort and discussions. You let out a slow breath to settle your nerves that always stir up when you begin thinking about it. The point is tonight to meet up with Austin, have a few drinks, dinner…see what else happens.
Both of you have been busy lately, which isn’t bad? But you definitely miss him. That’s supposed to be the whole goal of tonight’s date—spend time, carve out a small part of the world for yourselves and you alone.
Except he’s late and it only starts to bother you when ten minutes turns into twenty and the only text back you have from him when you say I’m gonna start drinking without you is, sorry xo.
Sighing, you turn towards the bartender and order another house margarita, stirring the giant ice cube with a lime slice in your empty glass. You’re not one to get too bogged down in what you’re wearing but you were even a bit pleased with the little black dress you decided to put on tonight—long mesh sleeves, a slit up the leg, conforming to your curves but not constricting. Austin’s just one of those people that looks good no matter what he’s wearing.
You’re trying not to be annoyed with him, you know he’d be on time if he could be. You just don’t want this to become some sort of pattern and at the very basic level, you miss him.
You stretch your legs, checking the time again as you stand from the bar stool.
“Don’t tell me someone stood you up.”
You turn a little to see some guy settle in a chair near yours, leaning against the bar. He looks about your age, handsome, but not your type—a bit too muscular along the shoulders and upper arms. He’s not as aggravating as his question and part of you wishes you could just ignore it somehow,
“No,” You smile politely even though you kinda want to grit your teeth, “My boyfriend’s just late.”
He lets out a slow breath, “Well good thing—I was gonna say, pretty thing like you? Somethin’ wrong with the world if you’re gettin’ stood up.”
You suppose there’s a compliment in there somewhere but the last thing you want to do is acknowledge it. You already know that this guy definitely has one of those borderline personalities where you give them an inch and they walk all over you. There’s gonna be no misinterpretations here that you somehow invited an extra bout of friendliness from him.
You just wish Austin was here.
Despite not much feedback from you, the guy moves over a chair, ordering a beer from the bartender. “Can I uh—buy you that drink?” He offers to the one delivered by the bartender, taking the empty glass.
You blink because—persistent, before shaking your head. “No thank you.”
“C’mon,” He reaches out to touch your arm and great, it’s gonna be one of those nights, “Just one drink—who’s that gonna hurt?”
You pull your arm free and are about to say something, taking a step back from him when you collide with someone behind you. It’s Austin, you know that almost automatically before he even speaks—the scent of his cologne mixed with the stance of his body along your back. He’s got one hand on the bar, almost creating a cage around your form,
“She’s good, pretty sure she was clear the first time.”
You chew on the inside of your cheek and definitely feel a small amount of relief that he’s there, the warmth of his body pressed against your own, his height working in advantage over the guy who’s sitting. He rolls his eyes but seems a bit nervous, picking up his drink and getting up from his chair,
“Maybe teach your girl not to practically ask for company when you’re not around, man.”
Austin goes rigid, you can feel it before glancing up at his face. The muscle in his jaw works as his eyes dip a little darker blue, ice, and you put your hand on his chest to prevent him from walking forward as the other guy moves away.
“Don’t,” You say gently, “He’s not worth it.”
Once you’re sure Austin isn’t going anywhere, you run a hand through your hair and glance over the light grey suit he’s wearing paired with a soft white button-down shirt underneath, little bit open like he used to wear the lace shirts on set. He looks good but it’s also clear he didn’t go home between the interview and coming to the bar—straight here.
“It would have been worth it,” Austin adds after a moment, “Trust me.”
And while the sentiment is there and you are happy to see him, you can’t stop the swirl of irritation from snaking up from inside your chest and slipping out of your mouth, “He wouldn’t have even said anything to me if he hadn’t noticed I was sitting at the bar alone for a half n hour.”
You regret the tone of your voice the moment the words come out of your mouth, a soft sigh following because that is…not how you want to convey your frustration. Or it be one of the first things you say to him. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you turn to look at him and that comment definitely sets his teeth on edge.
“I got here as soon as I could.”
This…you do not want to have a fight about this, “I know.” The last thing you want to do is somehow make him feel bad for something out of his control but you’re also unnerved that this random guy got under your skin and—and Austin just so happened to show up at the right time. What if he hadn’t?
“I don’t think you do,” Austin replies and his voice has a bit more of a twang to it, because he’s upset, those Elvis adoptions not completely able to melt away from him. “You think I didn’t want to be here when I said I was gonna be? That I don’t—miss you because my schedule’s gotten a bit more hectic?”
You shake your head, your eyebrows drawing together, “No, of course not—I never said that.”
“You don’t have to, it’s on your face.”
A scoff leaves your lips, you don’t like the feeling of being talked down to, “Well what—I’m just supposed to magically adapt to you being late all the time? And I’m not talking about five minutes every so often, Austin, it’s getting worse. This time was a half n hour, last week I was sitting at a restaurant for an hour.”
“I apologized for that—”
“And I’m not holding it against you,” You state, wanting to make sure that’s clear. You’re only bringing it up because he is, “I get being pulled in multiple directions, trying to figure out what way is up.”
You empathize with that, you really do—you know that the experience is once in a lifetime and that he’s really reaping the benefits of all the hard work he’s put in for over two years for this role. But that doesn’t mean that now that the film is over that his life is any less demanding. You understand, you’re proud of him, but you’re also…trying to figure out where you fit into his life.
You’re a priority, right?
“Right well, it’s a bit more complicated than just deliverin’ coffee on set all day, Y/N.”
Ouch.
You stare at him for a moment, unsure of what to say—you know that probably wasn’t supposed to come out as it did. It takes a few moments for Austin’s facial expression to shift, frustrated and angry to gentle regret. He swallows, looking away from you as he shakes his head. His fingers tap along the bar as an uncomfortable silence sits on both your chests, cinderblocks.
Austin’s eyebrows draw together before he lets out a soft sigh, running a hand over his face before lingering along his jawline. In thought, thumb along his lower lip before he finally speaks,
“Shit—I’m sorry.”
Deep down, you know that, he’d never hurt you on purpose. But that doesn’t change the fact that it did hurt.
You clear your throat, pushing your hair over your shoulder. “I’m gonna head home.” Because despite waiting for him and wanting to see him, the last place you want to be right now is at this bar.
“Y/N.” Austin tries, reaching for your elbow even as you pull away and head straight for the door, “Please lemme just—” He’s never really stumbled over his words before but he seems to be struggling to find the right ones to get you to stay.
And you especially, for the first time, don’t feel like being out on a date with him.
--
Getting a shower and into a pair of comfy joggers, you top it all off with an oversized t-shirt, which may or may not be one of Austin’s. Pushing your damp hair out of your eyes, you know that you probably shouldn’t have just left him at the bar like that. No more runnin’ away—and yet, there had been so much pulling at you from every angle you just didn’t know how to balance being there. You run a hand over your face, plopping onto the couch. Just bad communication throughout. Maybe it was wrong of you to feel sensitive about the whole ‘coffee cart’ thing—he wasn’t exactly wrong; Austin does have more complicated responsibilities than that. But at the same time, he once made you feel that every job was important on set, no matter what it was. Doesn’t that still apply?
There’s an insecurity there of being with him, of not measuring up, and unknowingly he’s jabbed a nerve, pulled the scab off new and still healing skin.
Just when your cat jumps onto the couch for pets, a small smile tugging the corners of your face as he rolls onto his back to expose his belly, there’s a knock at your door. You wonder if it might be Jillian—you’d given her bare minimum texts about your fight (fight? Is that what it was?) and she’s probably dying for details, or she’s worried.
Regardless, you open the door without looking to see who it is.
And it’s Austin.
He’s leaning against the doorframe, freshly showered and in a pair of light blue jeans with a simple white t-shirt. Your body reacts so easily to him—heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering, feeling lighter somehow even though it goes against what your gut is telling you.
“Hey,” He clears his throat, “Can I uh—” Austin motions to the inside of your apartment and you chew on the inside of your cheek, nodding before opening the door further so he can step inside.
Suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed, you begin shaking your head before Austin even has a chance to say anything. The thing with memory and recalling past conversations is that is sometimes always feels worse than it actually was—you don’t want to fight with him, not about this.
“It’s—” You let out a soft sigh, “Look, don’t worry about what happened, okay?”
“Don’t do that,” Austin interrupts gently, almost talking over the last half of your sentence. He reaches out to touch your elbow, drawing you a bit closer, “I shouldn’t have said what I did, I was bein’ an asshole. Was worked up with other things and I took it out on you.”
And you get that—that’s something he doesn’t need to explain. It’s been a constant conversation since you’ve met him, a transparency about the work and life balance struggle, the fact that he’s getting pulled in so many directions and experiences. The events and encounters themselves are not bad things but…Austin’s human and he’s juggling so many plates that some of them are beginning to slip from his grasp and shatter on the floor.
He was frustrated within itself that he was late to meet you, and you approached that with the same level of irritation instead of support. Just like you shouldn’t have bottled up your concerns about seeing him less and less—you miss him, that’s natural. But you don’t want him to think that you have to pick and choose; being a couple, or honoring successes. That’s never been who you are together.
It’s a testament, really, how well you two communicate over the course of your relationship because if it breaks down, even once? Everything begins to fray at the edges and fall apart.  
Taking a step closer to him, you reach up to cup his cheek. His hair is slightly more springy because it’s still damp, big golden curls that hang loose over his forehead. He’s got a spackle of beauty marks along his one cheekbone and you can’t help but run your thumb over them. Austin turns his head a bit into the touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.
“I should have been clearer too—I got snappy about you bein’ late because I miss you.”
He smiles a little, nodding, “That guy bein’ there really didn’t help.”
A soft laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head. Then you tip your chin up to look at him, a bit of a deviousness in your eyes as you say, “Actually I was gonna let him buy me a drink soon, he was wearin’ me down. That wouldn’t have been okay with you?”
Austin quickly wraps you up in his arms, keeping you close, a laugh skittering out of your chest at his insistence. “No,” He leans down and brushes your lips together, voice an octave deeper somehow, “That wouldn’t have been okay with me.”
Smiling, you push yourself up on your toes and kiss him, his arms slowly squeezing as he moves to plant a kiss on your forehead, the bridge of your nose and finally the corner of your lips.
“M’sorry,” He repeats quietly, nearly a whisper.
You smile a little and nod, “You’re forgiven.” You promise.
Austin picks you up in a flourish, taking you to the couch to lay down, laughing echoing against the apartment walls. It may not be an outing at a bar or restaurant, but it turns out your night is even better than what you had planned.
--
Letting out a slow breath, you attempt to keep your hands from shaking as you walk down the street with Austin towards a bistro. You’re meeting this producer, Max, that Baz has so graciously given your script to and he’s agreed to further the conversation—whatever that may mean. Could mean nothing or…could mean everything. You may not have the full story yet but at least you know that this isn’t some favor that your actor boyfriend got for you—he may have passed along your script but it’s your words and work that has gotten you this far.
You just keep needing to remind yourself about that…you deserve to be here, to be taken seriously, seen.
While you’re in a red, flowy, polka dot dress that sits right above your knees, Austin is in a pair of dark jeans, an olive-colored t-shirt and an open denim material button down. He’s not going into the bistro with you, just walking you there for moral support. And damn, do you need it. Every so often you can feel Austin’s hand squeeze yours, his thumb working back and forth over your knuckles and fingers.
“You know you don’t have to be nervous, right?” Austin asks, voice slightly teasing, “The hard part’s over—he read your script.”
“I am…totally not nervous.” You huff out which only makes him chuckle.
He’s about to say something else when a small group of girls that exits the coffee shop that you both cross in front of recognize Austin. There are just these moments of sound—gasping, giggling, excitement. It’s one of those things where, if Austin didn’t want to be bothered, he could definitely just bypass it because there are no words coming out of these girl’s mouths. Even with a more defined reaction, he could just walk on by with you.
But he doesn’t because that’s not who Austin is. He recognizes the reactions almost immediately and slows down, turning towards the noises with kind smiles. Once he makes eye contact, the words come pouring out—
“Oh my god!” “Hi, can we please get some photos with you?” “I loved you in Elvis, you were amazing, I remember I watched The Carrie Diaries and you were great there too—” Just voices overlapping over the other even though they’re attempting to talk in a calm and collected manner.
You let go of Austin’s hand so he has free range to pose for selfies, other photos and sign random napkins and coffee cups that the girls are holding. It’s hard not to smile as you watch the interactions—Austin has always been so genuine, he takes the time to talk to people, carves five minutes out of his day to ask the girls their names and how their day is. Not many celebrities, let alone just people in general, are so willing to offer that to others.
It's one of the things you really love about him.
“We gotta get going guys but thank you so much,” Austin backs up, reaching for your hand again, “It was really nice talkin’ to all of you.”
The girls glance over at you, kind smiles, one of them waving while another thanks you for stopping. It kind of floors you because Austin’s capable of handling these situations however he wants, but…you have to admit, it’s nice being considered. You offer your own goodbyes before you and Austin begin walking down the street again, only a block away from the bistro.
“They were really nice.” You muse and Austin nods.
“More often than not, they’re really great.” He means fans in general and then looks over at you, “You were pretty great too.”
A soft laugh leaves your lips because you know he means just being patient with the whole fan thing. Honestly if people are respectful and polite, the fan experience is a wonderful thing to witness. Not to mention you consider yourself one of them, a fan of Austin’s, it’s how this whole thing started.
Slowing down outside the bistro, Austin turns to look at you, a gentle laugh rumbling in his chest. “You’re tellin’ me you’re not nervous? You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”
You let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in, looking into the bistro windows and then back up at Austin. Your heart is definitely hammering in your ears at this point and your hands have slipped to rest along his waist, almost holding onto him like a lifeline.
“Alright, well maybe just a little.”
He shakes his head, smiling a little as he slips off his denim button down to drape over your shoulders. The lingering scent of his cologne and warmth of his skin does end up making you feel slightly calmer.
“Just take a deep breath, hmm?” He suggests and you do that, it helps a little. Then he realizes there’s another approach he can take.
Austin leans down to press a kiss to your lips and somewhere in your general vicinity, you hear the shutter of a camera going off. You’ve learned not to bristle and in this case? Embrace it. Your relationship has come a long way from that first photo taken of you two in the parking lot of that taco restaurant, your first date. So instead of shying away, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and keep him close.
He smirks, you can feel it against your lips as he continues to kiss you, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along your jawline. You can hear a few more photos being taken but there’s a confidence this time in who you are, your relationship and what you want that sits warmly in your belly.
It feels good.
When the kiss naturally ends, Austin smiles down at you, brushing his lips along the bridge of your nose before taking a step back, “You’re gonna be great—I’ll see you at home.”
You smile and nod, squeezing his hand before moving to tug the door open to the bistro. You believe him.
--
So it turns out, good things really do come to those who wait—or maybe in this case, put in the work and take encouragements from their boyfriend seriously. Max has decided to do something with your script, there’s a lot more that needs flushed out and you have that knee-jerk reaction to not be too hopeful but…it’s pretty official. Your script will be turned into a film. Austin doesn’t exactly say I told you so but his eyes are bright and wide when you tell him.
There are many laughs and kisses that follow.
On a rare Wednesday morning when neither of you have any obligations pulling your attention, there’s the opportunity to sleep in. And you do, until coffee feels unavoidable. You gently slip out from under Austin’s arm as he sleeps on his stomach, turned away from you, blonde curls slightly wild. He makes a soft noise at the movement but doesn’t wake up.
Going to the kitchen, you put on a pot of coffee and pour it into mugs once it’s ready. You make yours the way you like it and take a few long sips, leaning against the counter before getting his all set—black with cream.
The ceramic warming your hands, you take the mugs back into the bedroom. A soft smile tugs the corners of your mouth as you sit next to Austin’s torso, putting the mugs down on the nightstand. He lets out a slow breath, which means he’s awake just hasn’t opened his eyes. You quietly run your hand through his hair, scratching lightly at the scalp. He moves a bit, yawning and pressing his face into the pillow.
Blue sleepy eyes look up at you, skin a soft pink from the impression of the pillow. “Thought the whole point was to sleep in.” He teases, moving to wrap an arm around your lower waist. His voice is just a twinge deeper than usual, a bit raspy from just waking up.
“I did,” You purse your lips, “For like an hour—coffee was calling.”
Austin shakes his head but he’s not gonna argue about that, it seems. He moves in bed until he’s leaning against the headboard, running one hand through his messy hair and moving to press a kiss to your jawline. Licking his lips, he picks up his coffee and takes a sip. You reach your hand over and adjust the simple gold chain he sometimes wears around his neck—forgot to take it off before bed again.
“Some things never change.” Austin says, motioning to the coffee.
You smile, can’t help it—you suppose that’s true in a way. Here you are, yet again bringing Austin coffee. Shifting forward, you let your hand rest on his chest as you steal a soft kiss, his lips moving easily against your own.
Everything's changed, yet nothing has.
--
Can’t believe it’s over! Once again I super appreciate all the comments, likes, reblogs, and asks about CCG! Never know, we might do a one-shot or something for this universe ;) I do have some requests that I will be posting, so I am looking forward to hearing from any of you on those.
It’s been fun!
tag list:  @pearlparty, @theinvisiblecapricorn, @kittenlittle24, @andrewgarfields-girlfriend, @mirandastuckinthe80s, @nonsensical-nonce, @softlispoken, @dudinhahoff, @peterparke-r, @lottiee03, @little-diable, @therealwriter17, @bob-the-tomato, @bcofl0ve, @domaniquessidehoe, @oh-austin, @rosequartzluvr, @callthedarknessdown, @laperceval, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @starry-night-20, @ahoyyharrington, @obsessedunicorn24, @lulu-recs, @queenotaku23, @embobemm, @milaa24, @medleyj, @myownparadise96, @butlersluvbot, @girlokwhatever, @pinkle-monade0103, @vintagebitc, @xcallmetaniax, @adoreyouusugar, @karamelcoveredolicity, @thisisntmeok, @kvcssghbjbcd, @mamaspresley, @elvismylove, @chaoticbilly, @pulisvertz, @killerqueenfan, @jasminex12, @simpforevery1, @dre6ming, @behindmygreyeyes 
452 notes · View notes
izzy-b-hands · 1 month
Text
A one shot that was meant to be flash fiction (I tried, not very well, lmao) for Ferguson Friday! The end is also a mini sneak peek into the beginning of the Denise/Ferguson fic I've been working on the last few weeks (and hope to have done sooner rather than later!)
A snapshot of Ferguson prior to the meetup in the aforementioned longer fic, giving a look into what he's like outside of work/what worries him/how he lives. Also my chance to give him the backstory the original show wasn't able to lol, including a focus on his relationship with his aging mum and deceased father.
TW for mentions of coping via less than ideal habits with cigarettes and alcohol
There’s a particular creak of the floorboard at the center of his entryway.
He always manages to press directly on it; the toe of his slightly scuffed black dress shoes pressing down into the dip of the board. A sign of rot? Just a quirk of the flooring, older than him by more than a stretch?
He settles his woolen coat, then his suit coat, onto the coat rack in the corner of the entryway. A gif from his mum, when he’d first moved in. It’s been ages since she’s been out to visit, but with her emphysema, she doesn’t get out much at all anymore. Per the doctors, it’s safer for her, and he can always come to visit her.
But the work takes over his schedule, and she tells him to put himself first. She won’t be around forever, but she’s ‘not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.’ He doesn’t know that she’ll get as much choice in that as she wishes, and he misses the sight of her coat on the rack. Vintage fur in the winter, a tan lighter wool one for the spring and summer. Fall, she doesn’t leave the house, when the memory of his father’s death presses upon her.
His father wasn’t particularly impactful. Not much good, but did minimal harm, overall. Left the three of them with an addiction to cigarettes from the stress of getting on together, and a predilection for alcohol at the worst of times.
“What would he say about all of this?” Trevor asks aloud as he pours himself a dram of whiskey. “He didn’t teach you to act like that.”
He didn’t refute it either. That’s not an excuse, barely an explanation, and he desperately wants to call Denise.
It wouldn’t be appropriate, and why on earth would she want to hear from him now anyway? After the years of shouting at her, admittedly for things that were going to get her in trouble, might have even ruined her career-
He pulls off his tie and tosses it over the arm of the armchair before he drops into it with an exhausted sigh. His work now isn’t tiring because of the effort, but because of how fucking boring it gets. How repetitive. Everyone wants the accolades for doing something good or useful, but no one wants to actually do it, and it feels useless advising people that make more money than him about it.
The drink is good, and after he has a new cigarette lit (from the good pack, the better brand that he hides down the side pocket of the chair, only for his worst days), he can almost pretend he’s relaxing.
The phone is on the small end table near his chair. He’s kept it old school, with a corded phone that stretches nearly all over his flat so he can keep moving as he talks to people.
Not that anyone other than his mum and boss ever call, but. The option is nice to have.
He pulls the table closer now, so he can dial. But his fingers don’t move as they linger in the air over the buttons of the dial pad.
“She’ll tell me to fuck off, and she’d be right to do so,” Trevor mutters.
But he’s heard rumours. Just little things, but with massive implications for Denise if true.
And in his heart, he knows they likely are. She wanted the man caught, and she didn’t care how. He can’t blame her, but there’s next to nothing he can do to protect her.
He tosses back the rest of his drink, and dials his mum’s number instead.
“Hello?”
A voice, not unfamiliar, but not overly familiar either. The new nurse he’s hired to keep an eye on her in the afternoons and evenings. He’d forgotten she’d be in already. “Trevor?”
“Yeah, hi,” he stammers. “Is Mum in?”
“She is, but she’s gone down early tonight. She did ask that I wake her if you would call, do you want me-”
“No, don’t wake her,” he rushes through the words, regretting having called at all. She gets so tired, of course she’s not awake this late into the evening. “Thank you for answering, and for keeping watch on her. Is she doing alright? Do you need anything? I can pop down and bring anything you-”
“The pantry is still full of the snacks and things you bought last time you visited,” she cuts him off gently. “I’ll let you know when we start running out. She did okay today. We managed a walk down the lane which she really liked. Wished for a camera, so she could show you the birds we saw.”
He makes a mental note to find her a camera, something not antique, but that she won’t struggle to use either. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear, and I appreciate everything you’re doing for her. I know she can be-”
“She’s no worse than anyone else on my schedule,” the nurse laughs, and he’s in a panic trying to recall her name. Close to Denise’s, so he’d kept getting them confused-
“Trevor, maybe you should get to bed as well, hm?” Dena. That’s it. Dena, specified on her resume that it’s spelled with an ‘e’, not an ‘i’. “I’ll let her know you called in the morning, and she might reach out then after I go. You two can chat over breakfast.”
He’ll be out for the day, but she has his office number too. One of the few who does, along with Denise. “Sounds good. Thank you, Dena.”
She hangs up with a gentle chuckle, and there’s a flutter in his stomach again.
He could try. He could call her and apologise for all of it. Let her know that it’s not an excuse, barely an explanation, but he’ll do what he can to make up for it. Even if he can’t do much for her current troubles, if there’s anything at all-
His phone rings, and he nearly drops the receiver as he picks it up. “Hello?”
“Can you come over?”
Denise. Sounding like she’s on the edge of tears.
“Sorry?”
“Can you just come over?”
He panics, nearly dropping his cigarette as he sets it into the ashtray on the table. He’s got a bit of an envelope and a pen that works if it’s held at a very exact angle, and even if he can’t get the address of wherever Denise is down perfectly, he’ll wander until he finds her.
He interrupts her own panicking flurry of words. “Where are you?”
1 note · View note
Text
Title: Hell Worthy Sin
Can’t remember exact prompt but it’s probably stated in this somewhere. Shared from AO3. Basically short one shots with Crowley and female reader. This one is slightly NSFW.
Tumblr media
————————————————————
You stared at the ceiling as you caught your breath. Suddenly your phone began to vibrate from somewhere on the floor. You went to get up but someone grabbed you first and held you down after getting on top of you.
“Ah ah. Let it go to voicemail.” Crowley smiled as he got on top of you. “After all you’re not allowed to get up without my permission, pet.”
“But-“ He cuts you off by putting a finger on your lips.
“No buts. Stay. It’s probably Moose and Squirrel needing you for whatever reason but they are big boys. They can handle it themselves without you.” He says.
You hoped so since you were pretty tired after what went down.
“I’m going to Hell.” You gave a small chuckle after he removed his finger.
“At least I’ll be there to make you relive tonight over and over again. Maybe touch starve you until you beg for it.” Crowley smirked.
“Why don’t you give me a sneak peak of what I’ll expect for eternity?” You gave him a smirk right back and winked at him.
“As you wish, darling.” Crowley leaned down to force his lips onto yours.
One of Crowley’s hands cupped your face while he kissed down from your lips to your chest. Leaving little love bites on the way. You moved your hands up to wrap your arms around his neck.
Then he moved his hand to the bed for support while his free hand moved down to rub at your clit. A moan got caught in your throat.
“Do it. Moan for me, darling.” He whispered into your ear.
His hot breath on your ear made you shudder. But if this is what you were going to get in Hell, might as well fuck around and make him work for it.
“Try harder.” You managed to get out.
“Are you really going to try a power play when I’m on top and can go hard and fast for a long ass time? You were already pretty exhausted after the first round while I can keep going for several more.” Crowley mutters into your ear.
“Sure. Can’t keep this vanilla forever. That’s boring.” You kissed him this time on the neck.
“Then let’s spice things up…” Crowley grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his body.
Crowley leaned down and left a harder bite on your neck. One that would be obvious to everyone unless you found a way to hide it.
“Good luck explaining this to the boys.” He smiled.
“They can deal with it. I’m a grown woman and can do whatever I want.” Then you looked up and down his body. “Including fucking a god damn demon. Doesn’t help that this is possibly some of the best sex I’ve had in a while.”
“Can’t argue with you on that.” Crowley says.
He finally got a moan out of you when he roughly shoved his cock into you. And that was only the beginning of round 2.
8 notes · View notes
janeykath318 · 6 months
Text
Steve’s Christmas Miracle Chapter 5
Tumblr media
Steve came to his senses, expecting to feel exhausted from the sleepless night, but he didn’t.
“That was an incredible dream!” he thought, stretching out the kinks in his neck.
Then he noticed the artificial tree Bucky had brought him and which he’d stuffed in a closet, having no intention of using, standing in the corner. Someone had set it up and plugged it in and it was glowing with beautiful colored lights.
It made his bare cabin look friendlier somehow and he smiled at the thought of his mysterious visitors setting it up for him.
As he reached for his phone, he noticed a stack of business cards piled neatly on the coffee table, having somehow escaped the junk drawer he’d shoved them in. They were all for the therapist Bucky recommended and had been trying to get Steve to call for months. Why had he been such a fool? He wondered. Toughing it out was not doing him any good. Flipping over one of the cards, he noticed writing on the back.
Take a freaking hint, Steve! was written in Natasha’s exasperated handwriting.
What she said. Was written below in what he guessed was Darcy’s writing. He carefully tucked the two cards in his pocket. He would make it his top priority after Christmas. In the meantime, he had plans to make and friends to call. Scarfing down a quick breakfast, he dialed up Bucky.
“Hey, punk. Good to hear from you. You okay?”
Bucky asked, sounding very relieved.
“Yeah, I’m okay, Buck. Hey, I’m really sorry about how I’ve been acting lately. Last night….well, let’s just say my eyes were opened. I have a lot of work to do, but I’m gonna quit hiding. It’s not doing any good. Is the invite still open?”
“Of course!” Bucky exclaimed. “Come on down. We’re gonna be here through New Years. I might have some good news when you get here.”
“Oh?” Steve grinned, knowing what he was referring to.
“I can’t say yet, cause people are listening, but I’ll text you later.”
“Good luck,” Steve said warmly. “I mean it, Buck. If this is what I think it is, nobody deserves this more than you two.”
“Aw, thanks, Steve. When do you think you’ll make it in?”
“Looks like tomorrow morning is the earliest I could get here,” Steve told him. “Sorry I was such a jerk about this.”
“Better late than never,” Bucky told him. “And I am in no position to judge you for that. It’s been hell. Should I tell Sam we’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Absolutely! And Buck?”
“Yeah, Punk?
“Merry Christmas.”
Steve listened to Nat King Cole crooning Christmas songs as he went about tidying up and cheering up his cabin. He didn’t have much in the way of decorations, but it was a start.
He drove into the city and spent the rest of the morning visiting the pediatric ward, and meeting a lot of sweet kids, including, much to Steve’s joy, Blake. Steve would never forget the happiness in Blake’s pale face as he was introduced or the way Blake’s dad thanked him profusely afterwards.
“This means the world to him. This was his one big wish and we weren’t sure if we could make it happen,” Jeff told Steve, eyes misty as the visit came to a close. “He’s got quite a fight on his ghands, but the new treatment seems to be working. Thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll be happy to come back again for another pep talk. He’s quite the trooper,” Steve said, smiling at Blake encouragingly.
“That would be amazing, but surely you’ve got too much on your plate already,” Jeff said.
“Actually, I’m retired. So I’ve got lots of free time now,” Steve informed him. “I went off the grid for a while, but it’s time for a new chapter.”
He left the hospital whistling and ran a few more errands of goodwill before getting a quick lunch and heading back to his cabin.
When he pulled in the drive, he was startled to see a familiar figure leaning on the porch railing.
“Darcy?” he called, parking the bike and hurrying to meet her. “How in the world?”
“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she told him, mischief twinkling in her blue eyes. It was then that he noticed the giant red bow stuck to the top of her head.
2 notes · View notes
berryylll · 1 month
Text
Chaos
 ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄
a/n : wrote this as a prompt based off my friends cat ☆
CW!! : Explosions, wounds, gore, implied animal death, implied human death, intense situations
wc : 670
 ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄
Chaos. Ok well not literal chaos but chaos the cat! Garrett was sitting in his bed with the cat, petting chaos as they scrolled through their phone. Then a loud buzzing came from outside, then a boom and next thing Garrett knows, his hand, previously petting the black cat, was gone. Blown off. As was the rest of the house, and chaos nowhere in sight. What happened? An unanswerable question at the time, no context known besides an obvious explosion had happened. Garrett couldn't think of much, ringing and dizziness filling his head like cotton stuffed in a jar. He stood up shakily, stumbling to find a solid surface until he made it to the crumbling door frame. Door burnt but partially intact. The rest of his room looked like a ruin from some kind archeological site. Dust, concrete, smote wood broken and trashed everywhere. Including his hand, just sitting there on the ground roughly blown off and halfway there. Oh shit. With the realization he was going to be sick, correction, apparently he already was, in the midst of throwing up as recognition came to him. Garrett clutched the frame for some sort of grounding, a sort of stability to at least keep him standing. ‘This can’t be happening’ he thought, trying to get his mind to focus.
It smelled like burning garbage and popcorn smoke from a microwave. It only furthered the nausea he was feeling. He had to find someone and get help, there's no way he could stay here without medical attention. His mom was a doctor, he's sure she could help. But she was at work last time he checked, hopefully she came home after the explosion. Was it always this hot? Garrett walks out to the living room, also crumbling just as he found out the rest of the house was. He could hear screaming outside but was too exhausted and unfocused to check. The sound felt like a car swerving on a rocky road. Garrett didn’t know how that was possible but didn't enjoy the sound of it hitting his eardrums either way. Thankfully he still had working eardrums. No one was on the ground floor so he made his way to the basement. He stood at the stairwell of the entrance internally hating the experience of what it was gonna be like going down the stairs. When he got down there after throwing up one more and two quick trips to grab his bearings he found Goose and his mom hiding. His mom was frantically trying to patch up the burn wounds and almost melting skin on Goose’s face. Goose was Garrett's younger sister, her real name was Gracey but 5 year old Garrett thought Goose sounded better then her birth name. So it sort of stuck. “Am I interrupting a cuddle session?” Garrett spoke hoarsely, surprised he could speak at all.
“Garrett! Oh holy shit!”Goose said, surprised at his very presence, their mom was quick to correct the vulgar language.
But she let it go quickly, getting up to usher Garrett over, checking him quickly. Her eyes landed on his hand and those same eyes widened in absolute horror, worry and shock all at once. It felt like he was being cared for by an angry crow. A squawking and trembling voice erupting from his mother as she got something to cut off the circulation quickly shoving a bottle of water and an apple in his face. To which Garrett ate though hesitating at some point because of his already upset and uneasy stomach. Despite her wounds, though already bandaged, Goose would not stop asking questions about what happened to him, he answered as many as he could with his head slowly returning back to a somewhat normal state. After his forearm had been wrapped in a tourniquet, his mom told him how they had ended up down in the basement, thankfully safe from all of the horrible radiation and damage. Oh man did they have a lot to catch up on…
0 notes
Text
Heart Map: The IHOP Story (Part Two)
"Oh, he's just a friend..."
Even if by some minor miracle Alexa had told him not to, “just a friend” Robbie needed to make sure that his and her MySpace friends saw their super fun time at his pool that day. To make matters worse, Robbie also felt the need to specifically send me photos of the two of them together DIRECTLY FROM HER PHONE. (Maybe Robbie felt just as threatened by me as I was by him? Yay?) He sent photos of them smiling in their bathing suits together. Photos of them hugging in their bathing suits together. Photos of him kissing her on the cheek in their bathing suits together. She ditched me for this. So her and Robbie could work on their friendship…in their skimpy bathing suits ...together. I quickly responded with some highly inappropriate language back to Alexa on her phone. And for the next two weeks I held off responding when she texted me. (Pretty good, right?) Even I, somehow, had found my limit. I was done. No way. No more Alexa. (My students quickly pointed out that we hadn’t made it to IHOP yet, so this had no chance of working. They inferred correctly! Way to go, kids! Let’s keep going!)
Still holding strong, one evening I invited my friends Jess and Michelle over to hang out in my mom’s backyard and play cards with me. (I also may have been trying to make something happen with Jess. Girls find playing cards attractive, right?)
Everything started smoothly, including Operation Awkwardly Flirt With Jess, until Alexa called me. And I answered. Why? I looked back on this moment and asked myself the same thing. What could have possibly compelled me to answer the phone? I could only come to this. She texted religiously but NEVER called me on the phone. It had to be something important. (Not to mention the general shock of her actually calling me. I panicked and answered.)
“Hello?”
In slurry, disjointed speech. “Hey. So, I know you don’t want to talk to me or whatever. But I’m hanging out with my friend Trey and he’s got me really drunk and he’s trying to take advantage of me. I’m scared. He’s being pushy. I know you’re a good guy and I didn’t know who else to call. I’m hiding right now. Please. Help me.”
“Wait, what? Where are you?”
Click. Call ended.
I called her back multiple times with no answer. I had only one option left. I had to drive to her neighborhood and check on her. I explained the situation to Michelle and Jess. Even though neither one of them fully understood why I HAD to go (me neither), for whatever reason, they agreed to tag along. (Alexa also officially squelched Operation Awkwardly Flirt with Jess due to her latest escapade.) We left my mom’s house in Montgomery at 1:30 in the morning. It typically took approximately 35-40 minutes to drive to Alexa’s house for our hot dates. The three of us had a long night ahead of us, but I had to go...right?
A little after 2AM, crammed into my tiny Accord, we made it to her cul-de-sac. Much to our frustration, we parked next to her house, opaque and undisturbed. It appeared her dead end had been quiet for hours. It had been a long shot she’d even be home since, in her drunken stupor, she never actually said WHERE her and Trey were drinking. But I had nowhere else to go.
“Try calling her, again?” suggested the ever-optimistic Michelle.
Four times. Five times. No answer.
Sadly, I could barely contain my anger. But, seriously, from my experience, what an Alexa thing to do. How Alexa. She calls and tells me she’s in trouble and now I can’t locate or get in touch with her. How Alexa. Actually, thinking about it now, I should have been more concerned than furious...whoops...
Without any signs of life at her house, and nothing but a voicemail from her phone, I practically exhausted all my options. But, I needed to know she was okay. Even with my ongoing frustration, I needed to know. I decided on the only option I had left. I decided to call her house phone. At 2:15 AM.  Thus waking up her parents and alerting them to her absence. It would almost certainly get her in ultra-trouble, but I needed someone else to know if I couldn’t contact her.
The phone rang three times before her mom picked up.
“Mmm...hello?”
“Umm...hi Ms. A--. This is Gannon. I’m so sorry to call you this late but, I got a really weird phone call from Alexa earlier and she’s not answering. I just need to know she’s okay.”
“Oh...okay...well I think she’s asleep in her room.”
“Yeah, well, I know you think she’s in her room but...could you please check for me? Sorry, again.” I didn’t mean for it to sound so condescending. But, given the current circumstances, I had an edge towards everyone.
I heard a rustle of sheets and a creaky mattress as her mom rolled out of bed and made her way down the hall to Alexa’s room.
“Gannon, she’s sound asleep in here. I’m looking at her right now.”
“Oh. I see. Okay, then. Well...sorry to bother you so late. Thank you.” She also may have heard a weird crunching sound on the phone from me grinding my teeth together.
“Okay, Gannon. Goodnight.”
Well, great. What a waste of time And we still had the long drive back to Montgomery. Even after two weeks of silence, Alexa had still managed to butcher my night.
We pulled into my mom’s driveway at roughly 3:15 AM. Needless to say, Michelle and Jess did not feel like staying and hanging out. I watched them leave, went inside the efficiency, and passed out.
At 7:18, I woke to the buzz of my phone under my cheek. Alexa. (I specifically remember the time because I couldn’t believe she was awake this early.) In my groggy morning lethargy, I picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey. Listen, I talked to my mom this morning. I’m so sorry for last night.”
“Yeah…”
“I don’t know what happened. But I feel really bad. (That’s odd…) Let me make it up to you. Come pick me up, I’ll take you out to breakfast. IHOP. My treat.”
I have no idea why I agreed to this morning rendezvous. I truly think, by this point, it genuinely intrigued me to hear what had happened the night before. Plus, I wanted to have something justifiable to tell Jess and Michelle, if they ever actually decided to come hang out again. Like how did she go from being taken advantage of by Trey to sound asleep in her bed upstairs all within the course of 30-40 minutes? We all want to know!
I hadn’t changed from the night before so I quickly brushed my teeth and left. I remember little to nothing about the drive to her house, but I do remember her walking out to my Accord. 
I incorrectly assumed we both equally shared the hungover effects from last night, so I didn’t make much of an effort to clean myself up. However, at first glance, Alexa looked stunning, like she prepared for another one of our “hot dates”. She wore a bright pink top with skinny jeans, littered with holes in suggestive places. I started already secretly forgiving her, which felt like a typical, discouraging cycle within our relationship. Relationship? Friendship? Acquaintance? Friend request with benefits?
She sat down and I quickly forgot how pissed I wanted to be at her. Until she pulled out her phone. Within ten seconds of driving she had already forgotten her guilt and used her trusty cellphone to ignore actually having a meaningful conversation with me. Now, at this point, I knew Alexa well enough to know that, sadly, she just couldn’t help but text. (Sounds eerily similar to some of my students.) So, even though it annoyed me, I didn’t say anything. As we drove down Research Forest Drive, I tried forcing conversation, even though she was the one trying to prove her remorse. And yet, Alexa only managed grunt responses before continuing to tap on her screen.
After I had cooked WAY BEYOND my boiling point, I testily asked her what she kept doing on her phone.
“Oh, I’m texting my friend, Trey, from last night.”
… … … 
I didn’t know what to say. Oh...okay? You mean the guy that supposedly took advantage of you last night and you called me about and made my friends and I drive over to your house at 2 AM for nothing? That guy?
I couldn’t believe it. And, she said it so casually, like she couldn’t comprehend why that would matter to me while I drove her to IHOP to validate her apology. Aside from the “click click” of her fingers on her cellphone, dead silence in the car, even as we pulled into the IHOP parking lot.
We both walked in and the hostess seated up in a booth across from each other. The waiter came with our menus and exchanged some pleasantries with us. He took our drink orders and came back with two waters. He then took our food orders. This whole time, the two of us hadn’t spoken. My back squeaking against the laminate, I fumed. Each little “click” her phone made when her nail pressed a button felt like another turn of the vice around my stomach. This could not be her vapid excuse of an apology. It felt more like an insult than anything. I couldn’t take it.
Even surprising myself, I suddenly snatched the little piece of glowing plastic from her hand and started scrolling. The whole time we’d been together, she hadn’t stopped talking to Trey. The highlights of the conversation consisted of, well, things I can’t specify to my students, and probably shouldn’t specify here. Let’s just say the entire conversation revolved around discussing certain acts they did to each other in their drunken haze. Which she detailed to him via text WHILE SHE ROAD IN THE CAR WITH ME. I should have flipped the table. I should have thrown her phone across the restaurant. But I didn’t. Instead, I steadily closed the phone and set it on the table. I stood up, walked out the front door, hopped into my car, and left.
I didn’t know where to drive. While I considered my options, my phone rang. Who else, but Alexa. I took a deep breath and answered.
“Hello.”
“You’re a f***ing bitch!”
Without skipping a beat, without raising my voice or saying any of the other things I wanted to, and should have said. Without cursing her out or jumping into a giant monologue, I responded with one simple line.
“Well, at least I’m not a bitch stranded at IHOP.”
And I hung up.
My Teachable Moments
With Alexa, I found myself always focused on the crazy-to-hot ratio. If a girl is extremely crazy, they will need to be extremely hot to balance this out. Based on this experience, if you even have to consider the crazy-to-hot ratio, it’s not a good sign. And if you are like me and come up with something like the crazy-to-hot ratio in the first place, you are clearly doing it wrong.
Stand up for yourself. I like to think that half of my problems, and by half I mean most, if not all, of my problems with Alexa stemmed from allowing her to take advantage of me. Had I had enough confidence, I would have cut off the relationship a long time ago and saved myself a lot of headache. Although, I would have missed out on a pretty good story, so I’m torn on this one.
I love emphasizing Alexa’s moments with her cellphone when I tell this story. Far too often, I see my students ignoring one another to play around on their phones. I understand maybe when casually hanging out with someone you see all the time that it’s deemed acceptable to relax and scroll. But on a date, stay off your damn phone. It’s rude.
Oh, and next time, eat at Denny’s.
1 note · View note
crazybigredlove · 2 years
Text
17th July 2013
Dear Pete, 
My Friend! How are things? However they are, reasonably confident they have to be better than they are here. 
It's happening again. 
The feeling of wanting to eat constantly, to hide from the world in baggy jeans and with unkempt hair, passing through my days in a despondent haze; that feeling is back again in all its glory. Right now my senses are telling me to run screaming when men get that look in their eyes. You've seen me do this before. It's not pretty. It's the reason for the serious weight gain of 2008 that we have both vowed to never talk about again. So many potatoes... Each one more delicious than the last... 
But I digress. 
The problem is that dating is such hard work. When a relationship ends, whether it be after a few months or a few years or even decades, there is always that crap that you have to sift through. 
Packing boxes. Returning stuff. Tears to be cried. Letting go of baggage and moving on. Such. Hard. Work. Not to mention stressful and exhausting. 
You know what is infinitely harder? No. Not that. Mind out of the gutter, Pete. Ahem. To even have the privilege of feeling all that crap, to ever be lucky enough to drown in the fallout of a relationship that has ended, you have to sift through a whole lot of ill-fitting waste just to get to a point where a relationship lasts long enough that it can end. All that struggle just to find someone you care enough about that you are sad when they go. 
And there are so many judgements on that journey... 
We can't all be crazy. We can't all be insane. High-maintenance. Too laid back. Ambitious. Difficult. Uninterested. Demanding. Clingy. Aloof. Lazy. Lacking in drive. 
The problem - I have rather wisely discovered and am now sharing with you - is that what is a perfect fit for one person is someone else's worst nightmare. When I think back to that photo (you know, the middle finger salute one), I realise that some girls would think that was the funniest thing ever. The stupid thing is that had I been in a different mood even I might've laughed... 
Does this mean that my entire dating history is potentially the result of some bad decisions on days when my mood was more sombre than others? That the men I should've dated never got the joy of receiving my phone number because I was too hung- over, or hadn't slept enough, or was angry with low blood sugar levels at that exact moment in time that our trajectories crossed? Perhaps my mother was right to be fearful that my crap decision- making would one day ruin my life??? 
Oh God. In theory that would mean that potentially I'm a failure at life because I don't sleep enough, I eat too many high sugar foods, and I partied too much during my youth. As such I have spent my entire adult life being moody with potential dates, one of which was probably the man I was supposed to marry half a decade ago. 
Fuck. 
Do you remember that trainer friend of PT Patrick's? Caleb? He was married. Still is actually. He sent me some messages in the last few days. At my lovely, boring, kill-me-now office desk, the phone started vibrating like crazy and one after another they came through. At first I thought they were just sweet and innocent. 'How are you?' and 'You're very pretty'. Thinking to myself that maybe he'd heard about my latest relationship debacle and wanted to make me feel better I warmly accepted the compliments and responded politely. When the text came through including a picture of his penis, well, that was when I figured he'd probably gotten the wrong idea. Or someone told him about the road trip of 2004. 
Dear God, I really hope he just got the wrong impression... 
More exciting is that Miranda was standing right behind me when the picture came through and she, being the snooty-nosed, controlling cow that she is, was of course staring down at my phone hoping to catch me out doing something wrong. That ended in a counselling session with her and, for added pleasure, her boss, and we all sat around discussing what is and isn't appropriate use of work time. Double fun is that it was the work mobile that he sent the messages to. Even more amazing was that she apparently needed a copy for my HR personnel file... 
The thing is though, if I were a man, and if I had a penis, and if it were that size... Hesitation would definitely occur on my part before I decided to share that with the world. Or at the very least there would be some serious Photoshop applied prior to spreading photos of that nature throughout the population of single women in this town. 
This letter is a little scattered because I'm 97% certain that I've have lost my mind and it's no longer my own. There is a very real point that I am attempting to make, but at the present time I'm probably being a little inarticulate... 
What I think I'm trying to say is that this idea you had about me throwing myself into the dating world? I'm just not sure it was your best idea. Nutella brownie sundaes the night before you left? Those were an excellent idea. Road tripping up and down the coast during the Post-Lawyer Lucas slump? World's best remedy. This? Well, this all seems a little too much like hard work right now. While the payoff would absolutely be worth it if Mr Right managed to find his way into my life (again, how are things going with the Prince Harry hunt? Secured him for me yet?), the battle of looking is the bit that is tripping me up. Honestly, there are only so many penis pictures you can see before you completely lose interest in pursuing anything with anyone who has one of those appendages. 
(To clarify, I'm not saying I'm all about the hooha now, I'm just saying that men are wearing me out with their strange mating rituals). 
So. Have asked the married man to leave me alone for a while but indefinitely would be better. Asked Tea Boy again to stop messaging me. Women Shouldn't Work Guy was told to lose my number. 
Carpal tunnel risk: Extreme. 
Pete, are you absolutely certain that this is what you want me to do with my time while you're away? Dating? Really? And without supervision! 
Oh it doesn't matter anyway. After tonight The Czech and I will finally realise that our perfectly mediocre friendship is the stuff that dreams are made of and when we failed so spectacularly at dating last year it was because we were aiming for that Hollywood script ending, when in reality, perfectly mediocre friendship is what lasting relationships are built on. Whilst they aren't going to write Nora Ephron-type movies based on that plot line, perhaps they could write Olivia Spencer movies. Or rather, I could. I am Olivia Spencer! What is the point in having a degree in creative writing with completely average results if you're not going to use it? 
Was meant as a joke, but now that I think about it I am going to go download a book on writing screenplays. 
Will give it more thought and keep you updated. 
Liv x 
0 notes
Text
Teddy Bear (H.HJ)
Word Count : 2513
Warnings : mentions of sexual assault, therapy, insomnia, nightmares
Synopsis : after multiple assaults, her mind is plagued with nightmares making it difficult to sleep. lucky for her, best friend Hyunjin offers to essentially be her teddy bear and protect her from all the monsters, real and imaginary. unlucky though, she realizes that her feelings aren't all that platonic after all.
Author's Note : thank you to anon for this request. I would just like to say I know everyone's experiences are different, but I wrote this based on my own experiences with SA, nightmares, and therapy. If anyone, absolutely anyone, needs to talk, do not be afraid to message me. My inbox is always open. You're not alone. I also just want to say that I am still working on the other requests I have received. I am officially on break from work for a while so I have a lot more time to write. So keep your eyes out because I'm posting a lot more often!
“Sounds like things are getting better.” Her therapist smiled, causing her to smile back, happiness spreading through her entire body. “How are the nightmares these days?” Her smile fell as she remembered all the sleepless nights, kept awake by the memories plaguing her mind every second of the day.
She remembered collapsing due to exhaustion in front of her best friend. How Hyunjin looked at her with so much concern when she woke up. You should have told me you were having nightmares, Y/n. She remembers him telling her, wiping away the tears that were streaming down her face. Call me if you can’t sleep. I’ll rush over here and fight off all the monsters in your mind. “Better now.” She finally answered, blinking back the tears that wanted so badly to fall.
“That’s great news! Now, remember you only have to tell me what you want, so if you want to, I’d love to hear how you’re fighting these nightmares.”
She thought back to the first night she called Hyunjin. Sitting in her bed, sweat mixing with her tears, staring at his contact. It was nearing two in the morning and she knew he had practice early that morning. But every time she closed her eyes, she could see her attackers face smirking at her like he won.
And in a way he did. He plagues her mind. She can’t sleep because of him. She can feel herself going insane, and she knows the people around her can see it. All her professors have given her extensions on her projects once the news hit the media. Her classmates, people she’s never bothered talking to before, looked at her with pity. Like she was weak, fragile, seconds away from breaking.
But she was done with letting him win. Hyunjin makes her feel safe. So she calls him. And within seconds he answered the phone, telling her he was on his way. Can we stay on the phone until you’re here? She had asked, Hyunjin agreeing immediately. Anything to make her feel better.
“I got a teddy bear.” She finally answered. Her therapist furrowed her brows together before asking how the bear helps her with the nightmares. “He’s really cuddly. And because of that he makes me feel safe. As long as I’m touching him in some way, it’s like the nightmares don’t exist. He promised to fight all the monsters plaguing my mind, and he’s doing a really good job.”
“How was therapy?” Hyunjin asked as the two of them left the office, walking towards the car. So many thoughts were running through her mind that she barely comprehended the question he asked. “Y/n?” She looked up at him, studying the look of concern in his eyes. She stared at him more intently than she ever has before. She stared at him until she didn’t see her best friend anymore.
She saw Hwang Hyunjin, visual, rapper, and dancer of Stray Kids. She saw what their fans saw. The handsome prince that gives his all in everything he does, including his friendships. Even the mask he was wearing couldn’t hide his handsome features. Since when has he been this handsome?
“Must have been a tough session. Let’s go get some food.” He slung his arm across her shoulders, practically dragging her the rest of the way to the car. She couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks, so she looked away in hopes Hyunjin wouldn’t notice.
“Minho is going fry you in the air fryer if you miss practice, Jinnie.” She warned him as the two of them climbed into the back of the car, Hyunjin telling the driver her favourite restaurant to eat at when she’s down. “Jinnie, no. You need to go to practice.” She whined in hopes Hyunjin would change his mind, but he didn’t.
“Minho hyung will understand, Y/n, okay? You need me so I’m here.” The tears fell before she could stop them, causing Hyunjin to immediately jump into action, asking her what was wrong as he wiped away her tears.
“I’m so grateful for you, Jinnie.” She sniffled. Hyunjin halted his actions, looking at his best friend, his first love, with a small smile on his face, before chuckling and shaking his head at her.
“Don’t scare me like that again, Y/n.”
~
She woke up from her nightmare, sobbing into her hands as she asked why. Why was he still haunting her? Why did he do it in the first place? Why wasn’t she over the nightmares?
She reached for her phone before stopping, remembering that Stray Kids had an important meeting in the morning. She could survive one night without Hyunjin. She’s already bothered him everyday for a month. He’s probably sick of her by now. So instead of calling Hyunjin, she played some soft music and tried to get back to sleep.
She tossed and turned, her attackers face staring right back at her every time she closed her eyes. She was desperate for sleep, begging the universe to let her off easy just this once. But when her alarm went off, she still hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. Proud of you, pretty girl. You slept through the night without me there! I’m going to pick you up from class today since we have a free day after the meeting. Love you and see you soon!
She typed and deleted and retyped a million different messages before sending a generic, Can’t wait, love you too Jinnie. A part of her wanted to skip class; tell Hyunjin just to meet her at her dorm so she wouldn’t have to deal with people. But he’d ask questions, and she didn’t want him to know that she didn’t sleep at all. She’s not recovering. She’s not getting better. But he was proud of her. And those words alone brought tears to her eyes. What was there to be proud of?
“There’s my pretty girl!!” He exclaimed, hiding his face the best he could so no one swarmed them. “I was thinking of bringing you to the dorms today. The boys miss you and would love to see you!” Her body felt like it was going to give out on her any second, and the very thought of being in a house filled with 8 loud, clingy boys made her even more tired.
“I’m too tired for all of them today, Jinnie.” She pouted. “I was really excited to just go back to my dorm and cuddle.”
“Was it a long day today?” She shook her head. “Then did you have a difficult test?” She shook her head again. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you.” Hyunjin always knew her best. He was always the person to know when she was lying, ever since they were kids. It truly was a blessing, but right now it felt like a curse. “Why didn’t you call me?” His voice was louder than before, causing a few of the students exiting from the building to look at them.
“Can we talk about this when we’re in the safety of my dorm?” She begged, looking around her as if someone was going to leak Hyunjin’s secret life on the internet.
“Fine. But we’re talking about this.”
~
“Now speak.” He said as soon as her door was shut and locked. She tossed her bag on the floor beside her bed before flopping onto her bed. “You told me you’d call me whenever you couldn’t sleep.”
“I’m sorry, Jinnie.” She sat up as Hyunjin sat next to her, brushing the hair out of her face. “I didn’t want to bother you. You had an important meeting this morning. I didn’t want to wake you.” She looked down at her hands as she picked at the skin around her nails, unable to look up at Hyunjin.
“Hey, pretty girl, look at me.” He placed his pointer finger under her chin, making her meet his eyes. With his other hand, he wiped away the single tear that began rolling down her cheek. “You’re never a bother to me, okay?”
“Even when I call you everyday for a month straight because of stupid nightmares?”
“Your nightmares aren’t stupid, Y/n. You went through hell for a very long time. And you did it alone. I wasn’t there for you then, but I’m here for you now. Let me be here. Let me protect you.”
It hit her then. The butterflies. The racing heart. The need to be with him at all times. The feeling of protection whenever he was around. The giddiness whenever it was just the two of them.
As she sat next to her best friend on the bed in her dorm, she came to the realization that maybe her feelings weren’t all that platonic. Somewhere along the way, she fell in love with her best friend. And the feelings were exploding inside of her, demanding to be heard. Demanding to be felt.
And before she could stop herself, she was leaning in, placing her lips on Hyunjin’s in a quick peck before pulling away and running to her bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Hyunjin sat there, completely shocked by the events that just transpired. When he came to his senses, he immediately ran to the bathroom door, softly knocking on it, begging her to open the door. He could hear her muffled sniffles, a sign she was crying but didn’t want him to know. “Pretty girl.” He spoke softly.
“You can leave, Hyunjin. I’ll understand.” She said, trying her best to sound okay. Like she wasn’t about to sob. Like her heart wasn’t hurting at the idea of no longer having Hyunjin to turn to. Why did she have to kiss him? He’s one of the most wanted men in the country, able to have whoever he wanted. Why would he want her?
“I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl. You don’t have to come out until you’re ready. But I will be on the other side of this door until you do.” She could hear him plop onto the ground outside the door.
And so the two of them sat back to back with a door in between them. In complete silence. The only sounds were her sniffling that was slowing down. Hyunjin was happy to hear her cries slowly stopping. But she still made no movements to leave the bathroom, so he continued to sit and wait.
She wanted him to give up. She wanted him to leave so she could exit the bathroom and cry herself to sleep on her bed. She was exhausted and heartbroken, but she was stuck in her washroom unless she wanted to face the inevitable rejection. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. She would be eventually, but not today. Definitely not today. Not when she’s just come to terms with the fact that she’s in love with him.
“We’re going to have to talk eventually, you know.” Hyunjin spoke up from the other side of the door. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t leaving, Y/n.”
“Just reject me from there and go home, Hyunjin.” He was confused at first before remembering the kiss she gave him before locking herself in the bathroom. And that’s when he realized why she was hiding. She was embarrassed. She was worried. She was scared.
But there was no reason to be. Hyunjin has been in love with her since high school. She was the one that encouraged him to chase his dream, even when their other friends told him he’d never make it. She was the one that he turned to every time one of the other trainees looked down on his skill, telling him to just use his looks to debut. She’s the entire reason he’s apart of Stray Kids in the first place.
“I’m not going to reject you, Y/n.” She picked her head up from her knees at his words. Does that mean… “You know, I always pictured saying this for the first time to your face. But pretty girl, I’ve-“ Before he could finish his sentence, he was falling back into the bathroom as she opened the door.
“Don’t say it, Jinnie.” He quickly got to his feet, looking at her in confusion. “If you’re only going to say it to make me feel better, don’t say it. Please.” He cupped her face, wiping away the remnants of her tears.
“I’m in love with you.” He told her softly with a small smile on his face. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time now. So you don’t have to worry about rejection. Because you are the only person on this planet I will never reject.” He leaned closer, hesitating for only a second, before placing his lips on hers.
~
She woke up the next morning, wrapped in Hyunjin’s arms. She was used to this after waking up beside him for an entire month. But when she went to get up, Hyunjin pulled her back into bed, closer to his body, which was new. “Jinnie, I have to pee.” She whined as she tried to pry his arms off her body.
“But I don’t want to let go.” She rolled her eyes at her clingy boyfriend, but also couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was.
“I will come right back.” He puckered his lips, but she didn’t indulge him, still trying to get out of his arms before she peed herself. “Hyunjin please.”
“One kiss.” He pouted before puckering his lips again.
“Since when did you become so clingy?” She giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. He removed his arms, allowing her to get up.
“Since I confessed and no longer had to hide how much I love you and want to hold you and kiss you.” He called after her. She couldn’t help the blush that now dusted across her cheeks, her heart skipping a beat. She wishes she realized she loved him sooner, because now they have so much lost time to make up for.
She crawled back into his arms, pressing another kiss to his lips. “I’m so lucky to be loved by you, Jinnie.” She told him softly. He opened his eyes to look at her, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.
“Me falling for you was inevitable, pretty girl. You falling for me? That’s what’s lucky.” She could argue back with him, but she knew Hyunjin far too well. He was stubborn, evident by his sitting outside the bathroom for 3 hours the day before. So she let him win. But she knew in her heart that she truly was the lucky one. Falling in love with her best friend was far from the plan she had in her mind, but sometimes plans change. And dating Hyunjin? That was the best change she could have ever asked for.
With one final kiss pressed to his lips, she rested her head on his chest, slowly dozing off to the sound of his heartbeat.
220 notes · View notes
xoxo-teddybear · 3 years
Text
Birthday Bummer - Bakugou Katsuki
Bakugou x f!reader
Warnings: Angst, Cursing, Fluff, cheating accusations, jealous Katsuki
Summary: You love your boyfriend! You do! And he loves you! However he’s always busy. You understand being a pro can be very occupational but when he does have days off, he spends them either training to doing some paper work. Doing everything he can to get ahead, and you of course support him! But sometimes you miss him and sometimes he misses..a lot
BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST
“Oh? You’re not gonna be able to make it again?” You said with sadness laced in your voice. The phone in your hand felt like led in your shaking palm as you spoke to your boyfriend.
“Yeah. I’m so sorry Teddy Bear. Endeavor won’t let me off especially with all the damaged I caused during our last battle.” He explained. Your lip began to quiver but you bit it to hide your expression.
“It’s fine, Suki. Really. I understand, you’re a hero and you’re busy. Don’t worry about it, Love.” You said with a reassuring tone.
“Are you already at the restaurant?” He asked with worry.
“No, I didn’t even leave the house yet. I was still getting ready. I was actually gonna text you to tell you I was gonna be a little late, but..yeah.” You said. Bakugou sighed in sadness.
“I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you baby.” Another empty promise. You licked your lips at his words and gave a disappointed sigh.
“Ok.” You replied.
“I love you.” He sweetly said.
“I love you too.”
“Bye Y/N!” Kirishima said from the other side of the phone.
“Shitty Hair said ‘bye’” Bakugou said, relaying the message.
“Heh, bye Kiri.” You said and hung up. You placed the phone down on the table and bounced your leg up and down as you let your head rest in your hand.
Of course. Like usual, Katsuki blew you off again for work. It’s not like it’s his fault but he never seems to turn his agency down. You understand that being a hero requires diligent work and good ethics but your boyfriend would always drop everything for work whenever, wherever. That includes you.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
You looked up to the man who was dressed in a clean suit with a white apron. “Would you like anything else?”
“Ha, I mean..unless you can get my date here, then just the check.” You joked. The kind waiter placed an understanding hand on your shoulder before placing down the bill. You sipped from your champagne glass and payed before grabbing your purse and walking out of the fancy restaurant. Maybe if your boyfriend were here, you would be getting in his car with him to go home, but instead, you were driving your own and sitting by yourself. You began your drive home to the empty house.
The usual. Katsuki blows you off for work, tries to make it up to you with something special, fails to show up for that, repeat cycle. This time..it was different though. It was supposed to be your special day. It was your birthday.
You hoped he would’ve remembered. I mean, it’s not like this was your first birthday with him. This was going to be your 4th birthday with him! And he forgot! And you would’ve let it slide had it not been for the fact that he had been blowing you off more and more for work. You understand he’s a pro and you get that with the sudden splurge of crime in Musutafu he’s been way busier but he didn’t even spare you a little “Happy Birthday, babe.”
As you pulled into the driveway, you looked at the doorway and saw an edible arrangement! Your eyes lit up as you ran out the car and went to examine the gift. Unfortunately, as you read the gift card, you saw it was from Mina and not Katsuki. You smiled nonetheless, appreciative of the gift.
You brought it in and enjoyed the sweet treats in the basket with a sad smile. You left it on the dining table along with all the other gifts. A beautiful set of rings, a new dress, a heart holding teddy bear, and a bouquet of roses from your father. You were always a daddy’s girl. You and your father were extremely close and only grew closer once you lost your mother. Growing up an only child, your father was your best friend. You loved him dearly. As you examined the flowers, you couldn’t help but notice his note that put a smile on your face.
Hello my Sweet Angel, Y/N. It’s been another year of you being in my life and I couldn’t be happier to have been blessed with you. I hope these roses will suffice but I know they pale in comparison to your beauty. I hope you enjoy this marvelous day and I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to spend it with you as we usually do. I love you Y/N
-Daddy
You called your father to thank him for the roses and to have a conversation with him. You hadn’t talked to many people today despite it being your birthday so talking to one of your favorite people should bring your mood to a better place.
“Alright, I should get going now. It’s pretty late and you need your rest.” You reminded your father.
“Of course dear. Have a nice night, goodnight sweetie.”
“Okay, goodnight Daddy!” You chirped.
“Goodnight!”
You enjoyed speaking to your father and you definitely did feel your mood brighten until you noticed a text from Katsuki. You foolishly hoped it was a last minute birthday mention but of course you were wrong.
‘I’ll be home soon, princess. Mind getting dinner started? Thanks <3’
You could only sigh and feel your mood drop once more.
Afterwards, you chose to ignore his request and went to your shared bedroom. You stripped out of your gorgeous outfit and took off your makeup that you spent hours on. You hoped Katsuki would’ve gotten to see you all dolled up for your special day but things happen..you guess. You ran a hot bath for yourself and filled it with all types of scented bath salts, soaps, and flower petals. You lit a few candles and set them up all pretty around the tub and hopped in, relishing in the warmth that wrapped around you. All you wanted to do was forget about today.
Bakugou walked through the door exhausted from the day’s work. He took a shower at the agency and was all set and dressed in a comfy tee and a pair of sweats. He dropped his case at the door and walked in, expecting dinner for him on the island, but instead was met with a bunch of gifts. He stood shocked but chuckled to himself at the thought of you doing such a nice thing for him out of nowhere. He guesses that this was better than dinner.
He walked to the gifts and examined them. An edible arrangement that seemed to be eaten? Rings that were obviously for a woman? A dress? Okay, by now he realized that these gift must’ve been for you but for what? He continued to look through the gifts and noticed the lovey dovey Teddy Bear and bouquet. He grew a little irked at the gifts that one would deem romantic but what really sent it was the note. The words made his blood boil and when he saw the note was signed “Daddy,” he exploded.
“Is she…” as Bakugou thought about it, he came to the conclusion that you must’ve been cheating on him with some sugar daddy. The gifts, the dress, the rings, the note?! It gave him all the signs. In a raging fit, he took the basket and slammed it to the floor. He ripped apart the Teddy Bear, tossed the rings, singed the dress, and stomped on the beautiful roses. Finally, he made his way to search for you as he spoke to himself. “Oh that cheating fucking bitch.”
You were all set with your bath and had already dried your hair. You were dressed in your favorite silk set as you laid on the king sized bed. Suddenly, the door busted open and your boyfriend walked through the door, and he was pissed.
“Katsuki! The door!” You exclaimed before Bakugou made his way over to you.
“Am I not enough for you?!” He screamed. You looked at him in silent confusion and your pause urged him to continue. “What?! Do I not make enough money to your liking?! Well sorry if I can’t fucking spoil you! I just thought you would’ve appreciated my fucking efforts a little damn more considering you don’t have to work at all!”
“Katsuki, what the hell are you talking about?” You questioned, sitting up a little straighter.
“I’m talking about you fucking cheating on me! You think I wouldn’t notice all the fucking gifts you got for spreading your legs for some rich bastard?!” He asked and threw your gifted dress on your lap. You looked at it in shock as you ran your fingers across the singes. “Why don’t you take that fucking dress and the rest of your stupid gifts, and get the fuck out of this ho-“
Without letting him finish, you pushed his chest away and ran downstairs to the island. You set your eyes on the island and you stopped in your tracks, covering your open mouth with your hands in shock. Bakugou followed you down the stairs so he could see your reaction to having your gifts ruined, thinking it was exactly what you deserved for “cheating.”
“No, no, no!” You said an ran to the scattered gifts, trying to collect them as best as you could. Tears fell down your face as you looked at all the broken pieces in your hand. It wasn’t that you cared about receiving gifts, it was that these gifts were from people who cared enough to remember the day you came into this world. A day your own boyfriend couldn’t even remember this year. You found the crushed bouquet and held it against your chest. A gift from your dear father, ruined.
“What is wrong with you?” You tearfully asked the blonde behind you. You stood on your feet as he smirked at you with crossed arms and scoffed.
“What’s wrong with you? Fucking cheating on me with some sugar daddy?! And don’t even try to lie your way out of this shit, I read the fucking card.” He stated. You gawked at him in confusion and looked around as if he was crazy.
“The bouquet was from my father, Bakugou! Not my fucking sugar daddy! I don’t fucking have one, you prick!” Your words made Bakugou’s eyes pop as his arms uncrossed and slowly fell to his sides.
“W-What?” He asked.
“My father! The roses were from my father! The edible arrangement was from Mina, the rings were from Momo, the teddy bear was from Kirishima, and the dress was from Jirou! They gave me these gifts because it’s my birthday! Remember?!”
Bakugou immediately felt guilt build up in his chest. A little relief with that fact that you weren’t cheating, but immediate guilt for accusing you of doing so, telling you to leave, breaking your gifts, and forgetting your birthday.
“Y-Y/N I-“
“Save it Bakugou. You want me to leave so bad? Then I’ll go.” With that, you slammed the destroyed flowers into his chest and ran to the bedroom to change and pack a small bag with Bakugou following your trail.
“Y/N! No, wait!” He shouted and chased after you. Before he could grab hold of you, you made it into the room and slammed the door in his face before locking it. “Baby! C’mon, open the door! I’m sorry!”
“Leave me alone!” You said as you changed.
“No! Baby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I forgot your birthday, I’m sorry I accused you of cheating, I’m sorry I ruined your special day. Please just let me in to fix this!” He begged. You finally opened the door with an angry look. “Baby! Thank go-“
“You can’t fix this, Bakugou!” You said with tears poking at the ends of your eyes. His heart began to ache when he noticed them and the bag you carried. Not only that but ever since you started calling him Bakugou again, he felt weak.
“Baby..it’s Katsuki.” He said trying to reach out for you but you snatched your hand away.
“Don’t call me that and as of right now, no it’s not!” You tried to walk away but Bakugou grabbed onto your waist to stop you.
“Y/N, stop, please. Look, you don’t have to go, just stay here and we can talk about this. Please we don’t even have to talk, just stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room just don’t go, please.” He pleaded with soft tears. You bit your lip before calming down and speaking to him.
“Katsuki, I can’t be around you right now.” You said with a broken voice. “I just need some space…please.”
Katsuki still refused to let you go and so you stood there for what felt like forever. Eventually, you felt his hold weaken and so you pulled his arms off before walking away. Bakugou quietly followed you to the exit and before you left, Bakugou grabbed your wrist.
“I’m sorry. Please..let me fix this.” He said with tears running down his eyes. You froze before going in to make a move. You sighed and placed your hands on his face and wiped away his tears with your thumb. Bakugou took the opportunity to hold you in his arms once more as he leaned in to your touch. You pulled his face in and pecked his cheek before placing your hand on the knob once more.
“We’ll talk when I get back.” You softly said. You didn’t bother to see his response before you shut the door and got in your car to drive away.
Talk about a birthday bummer.
A/N: UGH, HORRIBLE ENDING
Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101
644 notes · View notes
Text
The Lonely Souls Club 4
Tumblr media
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.
Characters: Bucky Barnes
Note: a brief reprieve.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Tumblr media
Bucky
He waits until the air has settled. Yet he hasn’t. That thrill buzzes behind his ears as his chest beats erratically. He can’t help but think of their run-in at the store. It wasn’t that bad. She wasn’t afraid of him, just startled in the moment. That’s a good sign.
He mulls over his colliding thoughts. He wants to wait, make sure she is ready, that she can see he only means to take care of her. Then there’s that impatience that tugs at his nape. As he comes out of his hiding spot, just up on the fire escape of the next building, he has a thought. He should just walk up and knock on her door, introduce himself.
Noooooo. No. He’s getting carried away. She’s alone and vulnerable. He doesn’t want her to associate those things with him. He wants to make her feel safe.
So he slows and minds his steps, taking those untrackable paces that make him so deadly. They never hear him coming. He clicks into soldier mode, with a mission in mind. He creeps past her door and bends to swipe up the letter, barely missing a beat as he continues down the alley.
He doesn’t stop until he’s on the next street. He peers up and down, scanning the area and peeking over his shoulder. No one following, no movement from the alley. He turns left and crosses the road, dipping beneath the alcove of an abandoned storefront.
He shakily opens his hand. He’s slightly crumpled the paper. He frowns at the wrinkles and smooths them out. He narrows his eyes and reads the first line. Her writing is loopy and she dots her eyes with exes.
‘Hi stranger,’
He pauses, savouring each letter. Stranger… one day, she’ll know his name. He still wonders how she didn’t recognise him in the shop. Every now and then, people do.
He puts his eyes to the paper once more.
‘I don’t know what else to say but thank you. I don’t know who you are, but I know you are kind. Your gift will help in ways you don’t even know. I hope one day someone does something just as nice for you.
Thank you.’
He lingers on her name. He shifts around the letter to peel off his right glove and runs his thumb over the letters. He leans on the brick and reads the whole letter again. She knows he means well. She sees what he can do, he just needs her to know all he would do for her.
He folds up the letter carefully and tucks it inside his jacket, patting the outside just to make sure it's snug. He slips his phone out and pulls up the app. He flicks through the cameras until he finds the angle he wants.
His heart drops and his soles scuff as he fights to keep from racing out into the street. She’s on the floor, sat against the wall, a litter of groceries all around her. She calmly holds a can, reading the ingredients as if the scene isn’t chaotic.
He waits, teetering between reluctance and desperation. He needs her to get up. She’s all alone and he’s the only one who can see she needs help. Yet he can’t just burst in there and scoop her up and tell her it’ll be okay.
He can only watch helplessly. He hates feeling this way. It takes him back. To when he didn’t have control. To when he was a monster.
Tumblr media
Her
You set the can down and steel yourself, closing your eyes as you tilt your head back. Your hip is still ringing. It was just one wrong step, a stupid slip, and it all came crashing down. That’s when your armful went scattering and you with it. The tumble saw you landing on one of the tin cans, its shape more painful than the descent.
You reach to brace the wall and push yourself to one knee. Your hip is on fire as you grunt and plant your foot. You stand and cling to the wall sobbing as your tears break through. You turn and try to take a step, catching yourself with the mostly empty shopping cart, nearly tipping it as you stagger.
You twist and hit the counter with your back. You let go of the cart and get your elbows onto the counter before you slide down again. You lean back and catch your breath, aching so deep you shake. You roll your eyes against the tears and look around.
The apartment is so solemnly lonely. It’s just you. You could languish on the floor and no one would ever know. The government wouldn’t care if you didn’t cash your check, the grocer wouldn’t care if you didn’t pick out discounts, and your neighbours wouldn’t notice past their toddler’s tantrums.
You gather your strength and make yourself stand, ignoring the agony. You can do this. You grab the cart and drag it closer. You bend over and grab the bread, whipping it out onto the counter. You lean heavily on the cupboards as you go about getting it all away. Your final challenge is retrieving the cans from the floor.
At last, it’s done. You roll the cart before you, using it as your only support and fall against the back of the couch. You let the cart go and flip yourself over onto the mattress, curling up across the top as you’re wracked with heaving sobs.
You’re tired of this. The pain, the helplessness, the betrayal of your own body. You’re trapped inside this thing that doesn’t work! You just want to give up. You don’t know why you haven’t. You don’t have anything to keep you from doing just that.
Tumblr media
Dr. Grissam looks at you dully over his chart. You sit on the low stool, unable to even take the step up to get on the bed. He sighs and taps his pen on the clipboard.
“I did recommend the cane last time,” he reprimands.
You wince. He did and you couldn’t afford it then, just like you can’t know. And the bill for this visit will be another dent in your monthly stipend. You’re rationing your oatmeal and keeping your bread frozen.
“I know. I… I should’ve listened,” you hang your head. Dr. Grissam is a stern man but he signed off on your ministry papers. Without his little scribble, you’d have nothing.
“It’s a lesson,” he sniffs, “there’s a mobility store. I recommend it. They have a big selection, affordable too.”
Affordable. That’s not within your vocabulary. He jots something down on the little pad and rips the sheet off, holding it out. “More pain meds. Ten tablets. You take them when you need to, not when you want to.”
“Yes, doctor,” your murmur.
He’s always been stingy but you don’t ask for the pills. He gives them but acts like you’re some sort of fiend. You accept the script and get up, clinging to the stool until you get your balance.
“Is it close?” You ask.
“Bus takes you straight to it. Couple blocks down.”
“Oh,” you nod, “thank you, doctor.”
“Make sure you see Charity. It’ll help.”
You utter an empty promise to do so before you leave. You can’t afford to see the physio either. You told him that before but you don’t think he heard you, or wanted to. In his eyes, it’s your own fault you’re like this. You can’t help but wonder if it is.
You won’t use the prescription. You can’t pay the pharmacy fee. You check the address scrawled beneath; you can walk there… slowly. You’ll have to take some breaks but it will be easier when you have a cane. Getting back won’t be as taxing, but you expect, you’ll draw even more stares.
Tumblr media
Bucky
She went into the store nearly forty minutes ago. The small depot is nestled between a convenience store and vape shop. She walked all the way there from the plaza of her doctor's office.
He kept pace with her, hanging back when she sat on a bench and rubbed her hip. He still can't shake the image of her on her bed, crying on pain. The days since haven't proven any easier. 
He stares at the marquee. The mobility shop displays scooters and walkers in the window. He can guess why she's there. He can tell it took more than just the physical effort to make herself do so.
He's antsy. He hopes she's okay. She didn't look very happy after her appointment. She even seemed defeated. 
The door opens and closes. He's disappointed. It's not her, only an elderly couple. Despite the let down, he can't help but feel a dimple in his cheek. That could be them one day, a whole life ahead of them.
He checks his watch. He's supposed to meet up with Sam in a couple hours. He can cancel, he isn't exactly in the mood to be hazed. 
When the door opens again, he's transfixed. It's her. She walks steadier with the cane but still uneven. She keeps her free hand on her hip as she appears to test out her new gait, figuring out how best to place the cane.
She grows more confident as she goes. He notices her slow down and peer through the window of the bakery nearby. He keeps his distance, still across the street. He’s noted that too. How she meticulously measures out her food. A can of soup is split across three meals with nothing else. She eats slow when she remembers too.
It’s starting to get to him. So much it makes him itchy. She needs him to take care of her. She can’t do it herself. Not because of her hips or her lack of trying. He can barely do it either. He sleeps on the living room floor in the light of television just to feel a little less alone.
She’s a lot like him. He sees that more and more. As he does, he feels her pain like his own. More than his own.
He can’t keep waiting. If he does, she could get hurt. He can’t bear to keep watching her suffer like this. He can help her. He knows he can. She might not, but he can show her. It’s not the way he wanted to but his hands are tied.
He should go see Sam. He promised. Besides, he needs a favour.
Tumblr media
Her
The shadows move just on the other side of your eyelids. You’re groggy as slowly you’re drawn awake by the odd scratching. A breeze flows over your body and you roll onto your side. Your lashes flutter and gasp as you notice the front door. It’s open!
You sit up, panic swelling in your chest. Someone’s in your apartment. You hear them, sifting around in the drawers. You turn and see the silhouette of the intruder, shoulders broad as he’s distracted by your sparse belongings. You reach for the can against the side of the folding frame.
As you swing it to the floor and haul yourself up, the man turns. You cry out as he sees you, stalking forward, his eyes flitting between you and the door. He seems to hesitate as he comes closer and closer. You aren’t fast enough to run.
He stops, frozen, as if he’s afraid of you. You don’t know what to do so you raise the cane and smack his shoulder. 
“Get out!” Your heart hammers wildly. What are you doing? This man could break you in half. “Get-”
He hisses and pushes the cane away as you aim it at him again. He lumbers around you, shielding himself with an arm as he hurries to the door, shoving through the heavy grate. He mutters something you can’t make out. You set your cane straight and limp to the door, eager to close it behind him.
You hear him outside, grunting and groaning. You keep from shutting the door as you see him tangled with another shadow. The man in the hoodie remains faceless as a thick arm wraps around his neck. Another man wrestles him down to his knees as a slat of light limns his square jaw and bright eyes. You gape  through the iron bars of the outer door.
“Lock the door,” he grows as he continues to struggle with the intruder, “now.”
You obey. You recognise the man but you can’t place from where. It doesn’t matter. He can’t be bad if he’s fighting a robber, right? You turn the locks, the lower one broken completely. You strain to watch through the peephole. 
You can’t believe this is happening, that that man broke in and you didn’t even notice. Not until he could have hurt you. Not until it was too late.
155 notes · View notes
duskamethyst · 3 years
Text
cozen.
Tumblr media
a/n: just realized that the colors of my banners are different on laptop and phone and that pissed me off.
word count: 3.9k 
genre: smut, nsfw
warnings: noncon/dubcon, exhibitionism, public sex, thigh riding, squirting, sexual assault, stalking, power abuse
pairing: aizawa x f!reader
summary: where aizawa deliberately takes on the roll as your guardian inside the train, but of course he has other plans.
Tumblr media
the worst place to be during the rush hour would be inside a train. 
aizawa never bothered to commute because he often walked to work and back home but for you, he was willing to make an exception. 
you caught his attention during one of his evening patrols, walking alone in the big city with a short skirt that accentuated your curves and long legs. aizawa discovered the fact that you used the train to get to work daily and with the fact that you were always alone, he knew that you were always put in a vulnerable situation. so, he thought; why not keep an eye on you? maybe his job as a hero could give him a little advantage too.
like a child, he finds himself eager to get on the train. of course, he doesn’t really know which coach you would be standing in but his commute turns out to be so much worth it whenever he does end up standing in the same one as you.
in the morning, you would be there before he gets in and he’s the first one to step off the train in the evening. he assumes that you live somewhere closer to the end of the train’s final stop but he doesn’t know exactly where. so far, he has learned which station you use to wait for the train for your ride home from work. 
and today seems to be one of those days where he is lucky enough to see you in the same coach, squeezed between a throng of people. aizawa always noticed the fed up and uncomfortable look on your face as you held on to the bar but it was because of no other than a pervert deliberately rubbing his front on your backside. 
he’s sort of mad that you just let it happen, quietly accepting the assault being thrown at you. he can see how your face is contorted into anger and vexation as you try to nudge the man with your elbow and what he assumes as the man muttering half-assed apologies before he starts to blatantly repeat the same shit again. 
you look around pleadingly for someone to intervene and your hands are balled into tight fists, ready to swing any moment but you hesitate because you’re afraid of being the one who will end up getting into trouble and especially since you don’t have any concrete evidence that you’re being harassed either.
for a moment, his gaze locks briefly with yours before you turn away, probably to seek for someone else to come to your aid. he knows that almost no heroes ride the train, since they either patrol on the streets or keep watch from up above but he is currently the outlier, and what kind of hero would he be if he just continues to turn a blind eye on this? maybe it’s time for him to steal the opportunity to play hero and finally get an excuse to talk to you after a long time of observing you from the sidelines. 
aizawa slowly pushes the people aside to make his way over to your side and takes you by surprise by putting his hand on your shoulder.
“baby, why didn’t you pick up the phone?” he sighs and says a little too loudly so the creep behind you can hear. you look at him perplexingly but he just gives you a silent look that tells you to play along. 
“u-uh.. i’m sorry. my phone is on silent.” you try to reply with the same tone. “but i’m glad you found me! thought i’ve lost you.” 
the way you inch closer to him doesn’t go unnoticed, especially how your boob is literally pressing on his side. aizawa quickly glances to the man who still seems to be unbothered by the fake acting (not that he can tell) so he spins you around to face him instead. 
good lord. maybe he shouldn’t have done that. 
now aizawa can clearly see that your tits are squished against his chest through the unbuttoned top of your little white blouse. your gaze strays somewhere else, probably in embarrassment or maybe you don’t mind at all– he can’t tell nor can he think straight right now but he’s here for one purpose and he’s going to honor it. 
“how’s work today?” he inquires, turning your head to him with his fingers so it would seem like you both are engaging in a natural conversation between lovers. he is able to see your tired eyes up close but they seem to carry the same soft look he’s so smitten with.
“hard.” he tenses up a little at the possibility of you noticing the erection in his pants but thank god they’re baggy or else the tent would be obvious. “i missed you.”
aizawa’s heart is bursting in his chest but he places on his mask of unfazed expression perfectly. he still has a role to play after all.
he leans down to whisper in your ear yet his eyes bore intimidatingly into the man’s, “i’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart. but i promised to take good care of you tonight, remember?”
perhaps that was a bit of an overstate, but hey, it works. now that the man has caught on, he immediately walks off the train as soon as it stops– not even bothering whether it's where he’s supposed to go or not as he tries to run away from the possibility of getting into trouble with another guy.
“you okay?” he steps back and takes a good look at you only to realize how you’re avoiding his gaze to hide your evidently flushed face. how cute. “you don’t look so good.”
“i-i’m fine.” you mutter. “thank you for saving me.”
“no problem. it’s a part of my job. i just happened to be here.” he points out in a blatant lie.
you look at him in surprise as if finally connecting the dots, “wait, are you a hero?”
“uh, i guess– yes, i am.”
it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a hero being vague about his profession– or maybe you just made him feel uncomfortable to admit that he’s one when you, a quirkless citizen should be acknowledging the heroes that are risking their lives to protect the country so they should at least deserve some recognition, him included. 
“i’m sorry. i didn’t recognize you and i don’t really keep up with the heroes.” you laugh nervously, afraid of offending the male. though you can’t really tell what he thinks nor can you tell if he even cares from the look on his face but he only observes you silently before his lips turn to a lopsided smile. 
he doesn’t take it to heart, of course, but he finds it endearing that you’re trying to make him feel better. aizawa is not one that likes to be in the limelight anyway, so he doesn’t blame you. 
the number of people in the train gradually dissipates as the train stops station by station, leaving him and you together with some other few who have taken their seats to doze off. aizawa’s platform has long passed by but he decides to stay with you with intent to know where you actually live.  
aizawa doesn’t speak much the whole ride, only answering your questions and listening to you as you talk about your life. he learns that you’re a fresh graduate who just started working in an office and saving up to buy a car so you don’t have to trouble yourself with train rides anymore. he doesn’t know why you entrust him with the fact that you live alone in your apartment, but he’s relieved that you do. maybe it’s easy to trust a hero. man or not. 
but his filthy gaze lingers around your body once in a while– blood rushes to his cock when he sees the plush thighs that are exposed from your short skirt as you sit, the two buttons on your blouse that looks like they’re about to pop off from your breasts and the way your puffy lips jut out slightly when you stare out the window to watch the sun slowly disappears below the horizon to make way for the dark sky. the ride would’ve been peaceful if not for the uncomfortable throb inside his pants right now.
and soon enough, you stand up from your seat and grab your bag in preparation to step off from the agonizing ride. 
“this is my stop. thank you again, eraser head. it’s nice meeting you!” you beam sweetly before you walk off the train and wave him goodbye as the doors slowly closes between the two of you. 
aizawa can’t wait to see you again tomorrow– but now he needs a change of pace. since he doesn’t want to take risk of you finding out that he intentionally missed his platform, he chooses to only ride the train in the evening now.
with his height, aizawa is able to see you looking around as soon as you step into the train with exhaustion written all over your face. however, it’s instantly washed away with an exuberant look when you notice him staring at you from the other side. his heart swells with joy as he watches you push yourself through the crowd with your bag covering your chest protectively.
“found you, eraser!” you chirp as you stand in front of the male.
“oh? so you were looking for me?” he replies coyly, sinking lower into his scarf to keep his burning cheeks out of sight.
you nod eagerly and sigh, “i looked for you this morning too, but i guess you were on a different coach or something.”
“why? you wanted to use me so i’d protect you from perverts?” 
“oops. busted.” you laugh. 
if that’s the one thing that binds you and him, he doesn’t really mind. aizawa is pleased to know that you’re willing to be around him as much as he does. it then comes to a point where you both promise to be in the same coach in the evening.
it has been over a week since aizawa restrained his lecherous intentions. all of those days he has seen you don that short skirt that seems to hug your ass so well. every weekday evening he gets to glance down over your cleavage when you press yourself closely against him and when you’re not facing him? he can feel that ass just lightly brushing, teasing him when the train shakes and he knows he won’t be able to take it any longer. 
what is he waiting for anyway? when this is all what he coveted in the first place? fuck playing the reliable hero. 
aizawa doesn’t want to regard himself and the creeps inside the train as equals. he’s different. he’s a hero and because of that, he got you always wanting to stay close to him without him compelling. you’re so sweet to him, so trusting and you never give him the dirty look whenever he places his hand too low on your back. 
more people are joining in from different stations so as usual, aizawa quickly pulls you into a corner nearby one of the doors which he knows won’t be opening for people to get in and get out. he only keeps guard by standing behind you as you take in the view of the same buildings and skyline.
“you have no idea how much i’m dying to own a car.” you sigh as you stare outside the glass window unheedingly and completely oblivious to your surroundings. 
“yes. you’ve said that a million times.” he carefully inches closer (as much as he can anyway) and bravely takes a whiff of your shampoo that never fails to fill and rouse his senses.
“i’m sorry,” you titter. “you must’ve gotten bored of hearing it.” 
“no, i like it.” he whispers audibly in your ear, just enough for both of you to hear. 
“i’m gla–” you’re suddenly startled when you feel something hard prodding against your ass. you start to feel uneasy and try to shift away but a pair of hands brazenly grab your breasts, almost making you yelp in surprise. 
“shh,” his hot breath fans over the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “don’t wanna make a scene.”
your heart instantly drops once you realize the person you trust most, a hero at that, is doing the very same thing he protected you from. you can see the vague reflection ahead– the way his hands are massaging your tits as he litters chaste kisses on the crook of your neck.
you attempt to pry his hands off of you, but he only grabs harder and pushes you closer to the front until your forehead presses against the cold glass.
“aizawa– stop.”
aizawa can hear panic lacing in your voice as you whimper but he simply brushes off your plea, too busy soothing his carnal needs by grinding his hard cock against your ass.
“no. you feel so good.” he nibbles your neck, sucking and biting the supple flesh to leave a bruising mark. 
“p-people are gonna see.” 
“that’d be really hot.” he hoists up your short skirt to prop his knees between your thighs before one of his hands guides your hip and compels you to grind your pussy against his own thigh. 
your eyes lingers around the crowd in the train, in between looking for help and hoping that no one sees what he’s doing to you but everyone’s either immersed in their phones or napping and even when someone does notice you, they just turn away uncomfortably. 
“looks like i’m the only hero in this train, kitten.” he says ironically as the hand from your hips snakes in front to rub circles on your clit. “feels good, does it?” he coos as you try to muffle your whines from escaping. 
you’re clawing on his wrist in an attempt to make him stop, but the harder you try to, the harder he presses your mound and clit.
aizawa slips two fingers inside your panties, barely biting back a groan once he uncovers you wet beneath his fingers. 
“what a surprise.” he chuckles, smearing his fingers with your slick before bringing it up to your mouth. “open up, kitten.” 
you purse your lips in retaliation but he easily rubs his thumb on your hardened nipple, causing you to gasp and he quickly shoves his fingers inside your mouth. your tongue wraps around his fingers, sucking and tasting your own flavor as he observes you through the reflection.
“you like how it tastes?” he pulls out his fingers from your mouth with a lewd pop sound before tugging your panties to the side and sliding a digit swiftly inside your cunt. a surprised yelp manages to roll off your tongue from the intrusion but you quickly look down to hide your humiliation and away from the peculiar gazes of others inside the coach.
aizawa hushes you as he thrusts his fingers slowly, savoring the tightness of your walls while also attempting to keep down the squelching noises from your dripping cunt. 
“it’s okay. most of them are going to step off soon, then you can be as loud as you want.” he murmurs, holding you close to his body while his other hand continuously rubs your nipple with his thumb to stimulate you even further until your world is reduced to his satisfying ministrations. 
as time passes by, more and more people have left the train while a few sleepers still remain. aizawa already has two fingers pumping inside your sopping cunt and your slick is already trickling down your thighs as you try hard to hold in your whines. 
“please– i can’t–” your legs have grown weaker and you can only find support by leaning back against his broad chest. your toes are curling inside your heels and your breath has come out shorter and deeper as he keeps on edging you until he thinks it’s safe to fuck you without the presence of other people seeing his unheroic actions.
“you wanna cum, pretty girl?” he finally picks up the pace, causing your body to squirm as you moan breathlessly. 
“y-yes– please–”
“you’re really sucking me in.” he groans, dragging and curling his fingers against the spongy walls that makes your thighs tremble as you edge closer to an orgasm. “cum for me.”
your hands are clenching hard on his forearm and you feel the muscles in your stomach tightening with so much intensity. with his finger pressing down on your throbbing bud, you eventually come undone and you bite on his arm to stifle your screams. 
“that’s it, princess. just what you need after a long day at work, huh?” he kisses your temple soothingly as you regain composure and struggle to fix your skirt, but he stops you from doing so. 
“aizawa..?” 
“i had a hard day at work too, you know.” he tugs your panties down to your ankles and picks it up. “i deserve something from you too, right? and i’m not talking about this.” you see him showing your panties through the glass before he shoves it inside his pocket.
aizawa wraps his scarf around your body and drags you to the middle of the coach. the fabric works as a bind around your wrists and ties onto the bar handle on top of your head to keep you restrained and exposed in front of a man that is sleeping in his seat. 
“let’s hope he doesn’t wake up soon, hm?” he chuckles and takes his place behind you. 
“you’re out of your–!” 
you can barely contain your shriek when aizawa suddenly rips off the middle of your blouse that sends the buttons flying across from you and he quickly slips his hands underneath your bra to fondle your breasts.
“careful not to wake him up, princess.” he tweaks your pebbled nipples between his fingers to provoke the slightest sound from you but you press your lips firmly to conceal your mewls. “or else he’s gonna see me fucking your tight cunt.”
aizawa spits on his hand and smears his saliva with your slick, making you shudder from sensitivity before his fingers prod into your hole to give you a few pumps in preparation for his cock. 
“i’ve been waiting for this for far too long.” he unzips his pants hastily to free his cock from its confinements and you gulp nervously when you see it in the reflection ahead– already throbbing and fully erected. aizawa lifts one of your legs up and rubs his shaft against your wet, puffy folds before lining his cock with your entrance. 
you look down at the man anxiously, praying silently for him to not wake up (or maybe just never at all) to see you with your legs spread in front of his face for god knows how long it’ll be. you bite your lower lip hard when you feel aizawa’s cock sinking inside your cunt, stretching it as he pushes through your walls. 
“shit. so fucking tight.” he growls in your ear as he sheathes his cock into you, pushing through your convulsing walls and until he has filled you to the brim. he starts to pound into you slowly and you bite back a moan when you feel the delicious drags of his veiny cock inside you.
his tongue traces the shell of your ear, licking all around the erogenous zone that has you shuddering and clenching down on him even more. 
“mmph– you’re milking my cock so well, kitten.” he grunts, flicking your nipple with his free hand before toying with your clit. 
“ah– he-he’s gonna wake up.” you pant, tugging your wrists for release as if the way it binds so securely doesn’t tell you enough that it would be impossible.
“then he’s gonna get one hell of a show.” he says nonchalantly before picking up his pace. 
the squelching noises begin to fill the quiet air as aizawa continues to fuck you relentlessly. your slick is dripping down to his balls and your thighs, pooling underneath you and you can feel that you’re close to reaching another orgasm.
as your state has become more delirious, the man in front of you suddenly grunts in his sleep and a cold rush of fear instantly creeps down your spine. yet, aizawa doesn’t seem bothered when he remains to be balls deep inside you.
“i think you’re getting off on this, princess.” he says between breaths, rutting into you harder when he feels how hard you’re clamping around his cock. 
“b-but– i’m gonna cum–” you whine, body squirming as you ground yourself to not cum.
your pussy is spread wide open in front of the man when aizawa easily lifts up your other leg. your heels have fallen under you and now you’re just practically hanging in mid air with his scarf and hands supporting your body. he angles deeper inside your cunny and your head throws back onto his shoulder when you feel the tip brushing against your cervix. 
“then, cum.” it’s baffling how he manages to make it sound simple, not having a care in the world as if his reputation isn’t in the line right now. “look at me.”
you shyly turn your head to meet his heavy lidded eyes before he crashes his lips onto yours. you drown into his fervor kiss while the pressure continues to build in your lower stomach turns more intense and unbearable. at this point, you think it’s best to just swallow your humiliation.
“let it go.” he whispers against your lips and locks his gaze with your wavering eyes. 
“f-fuck– cumming–!” you instantly draw in for a deep kiss to make him swallow your moans as you finally let yourself come undone. it feels oddly relieving in a sense that has your mind turned to mush, together with the feeling of an insurmountable high. the moment your eyes flutter open again, you realize that there are questionable droplets of water staining the glass window in front of you. 
“you’re a little exhibitionist, aren’t you?” he mocks, yet proud and even more aroused that he managed to make you squirt in a public transport. “he might need to clean up.” 
your eyes trail down to the man in front of you to see some amount of your own arousal trickling down on his poor face. you're so dazed with pleasure that you don’t even bother to care anymore and you just let aizawa fucks you through your high before his cock begins to twitch inside your pussy.
“be a good girl and take all my cum.” his pace soon falters and he holds you still before releasing a thick load inside your cunt. after he has emptied out, aizawa leans in the crook of your neck to catch his breath before removing his cock and putting you down gently. 
“that was fucking good.” he sighs gratifyingly as he pulls his pants back up. aizawa unties your restraints and your legs wobble once they touch the ground, but he quickly catches you in his arms to keep you from falling to the floor. as if on cue, the train finally comes to a halt.
“oh, we’re here.” he picks up your shoes and bag before pulling you closer to him to stand in front of the automatic door. “do you need me to carry you or something?”
you look at him confusingly, then to the small map above your head; you’re at least two stops away from your station and three from his. “but this isn’t our stop.”
“well, this one has always been mine.”
Tumblr media
duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.
881 notes · View notes
calpops · 3 years
Text
forgotten | c.h.
Tumblr media
Its not unusual for your birthday to be forgotten by many; it’s never a surprise to receive last minute, half hearted texts from friends or belated cards from family. It’s always been easy to let it roll off your back when you have Calum by your side. But the first year he forgets your special day, it crushes you.
aka it’s my birthday and I’ll post relatable angst if I want to :)
1.8k words
my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world
Copyright © 2021 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).
* * *
Calum comes home with a heavy feeling in his chest as he notices all the lights are out. It’s only just past eight; usually there would be at least one glowing window lit up by lamp light with you sat with a book in wait for him. Tonight it’s dark and quiet as he enters the house. Soft music doesn’t spill around the corners. The tv isn’t a muffled call to your bedroom. Duke’s paws don’t even click as they come around the corner to greet him. It’s silent and empty and it all echoes around him as he slips off his shoes and goes in search of you.
The bedroom door is closed, no light spills under it. No noise breaks through the wood. His hand apprehensively reaches for the doorknob, trying to be quiet as the night falls on his shoulders. The door softly swings open with a sigh and as his eyes become accustomed to the dark he notices the shape under the covers. You’ve tucked yourself in, a spill of hair on the pillow, arms pulling the sheets taut up around your chin. Duke laying beside you, undisturbed and too uncaring to move from his perch. Calum smiles, soft and serene as he winds way around the bed to kiss you goodnight.
He stops short at the sight of you. Moonlight glimmers against tear tracks down your sullen cheeks. Red, puffy eyes stay tightly shut. Calum’s smile quickly turns to a frown, an ache consuming him as he drops to a knee and reaches gentle fingers out to stroke through your hair. He doesn’t understand why you’re feeling this way but it doesn’t stop him from consoling you. Your eyes flutter open slowly and as you register his presence you bite your lip as fresh tears gather in your eyes.
You pull away from him, bury yourself back under the covers and stay silent.
“Sweetheart, are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Calum’s voice is soft and encouraging, trying to coax some words out of you. When you don’t speak, only slightly shake as his hands glide over your arms, Calum feels crestfallen. The silence threatens to swallow him whole. Usually, he knows what’s wrong, can pinpoint the reason for your emotions and pain.
“It’s nothing, okay, it’s just stupid.”
Your explanation is shaken and does little to instill faith in its reason. Calum shakes his head. He wants to tell you that there’s no such thing as a stupid reason for being upset but the words stall in his throat as he tries to climb in next to you but you make no room.
“It’s like this every year. I should be used to it by now.”
Your next explanation further drives Calum to worry. In a snap moment, like a wave crashing over his head, he finally understands. His hand darts to his phone in his pocket, your birthday lighting up the date on the screen. He lets out a broken and uneasy breath as all of the implications try to drown him.
He forgot your birthday. You’ve been alone all day.
“Sweetheart, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a strain in his voice.
He can feel his own tears pooling in his eyes, shame and guilt assaulting all of his senses. He’s never missed your birthday before. Has always been there from the moment you woke up to the minute you fell asleep. You’ve confided your dislike of the day to him multiple times; he’s noted that he’s the only one who remembers. Cards from family come in days late, texts from friends are last minute and half hearted. All you’ve ever wanted, all you’ve ever asked for on your special day is to have him around.
You shudder out a broken breath, shift under the sheets but make no move to let him in or come closer.
“It’s okay. You’ve been busy at the studio. That comes first, I understand,” you whisper so lowly it’s barely audible but it still cuts deep against Calum’s racing heart.
“It’s not okay, it doesn’t come first,” he tries to reassure and tentatively reaches out for you again. This time, you don’t flinch away. He takes it as a good sign. “I’m going to make it up to you. I promise.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re not the first person to forget, you won’t be the last. It’s always been like this.” You finally shift up and Calum opens his arms for you though there’s little hope in his chest that you might collide into his embrace. It takes you a moment, bleary eyes being rubbed and lip trembling, to get collected. Your gaze meets his. “I’m just glad you’re home now.”
His faith nearly knocks him off his knee as you collide into him and wrap your arms around his neck. Bury your face against the strength of his shoulder. Weep in a small but heart breaking way.
“I’m home,” he repeats and furrows his brows, knowing it’s not enough. His entire chest aches and his eyes burn but he holds his composure, knowing his guilt needs to be put on the back burner for you; it’s small in comparison to the emotions and abandonment that have sat with you all day. “I’ve got you sweetheart.”
He almost promises that he won’t let go, he won’t leave, but a plan burns through the back of his mind and he knows his departure is imminent. He takes solace in the fact you’re exhausted enough to be led back to laying down with heavy eyelids. He murmurs and hums to you until your eyes flutter closed and he’s sure you’re asleep by the sound of your even breathing.
He stands, stretches and keeps his eyes on you for as long as possible. When he finally cuts around the corner of the bed he pats Duke’s head.
“Stay right here. I’ll be back,” he whispers to the old dog, hoping if you wake again his presence will suffice until he’s back.
He’s not gone long. His plan is simple but he hopes it’s enough. You’ve never asked for anything, but the hopes of restoring your ruined day live in petals and icing and charms. He goes back into the house and makes a beeline for the bedroom, gently wakes you and guides you up.
“What are you doing?” you ask as you rub the sleep and leftover sadness from your eyes.
Calum shakes his head, winds his arms around you and helps you to your feet. Your wobbly at first, emotionally exhausted after all of the turmoil. You lean into his side and for the feeling of your warmth against him he’s grateful.
“Trying to make it right,” he answers as he guides you away from the bed and towards the door. “There’s still a few hours of your birthday left. Let me try, okay?”
You nod as you’re led out of the bedroom and to the dimly lit kitchen. Calum walks you to the bar where flowers, some with already dying petals, sit in a vase. A lone cupcake with a candle and flame sits alongside the flowers. A small breath leaves you at the effort. While Calum feels it’s lame, the last picks at the store on the shelf, his heart still hammers at the genuine appreciation in your eyes.
“Come sit,” he encourages as he props a stool around for you. You do as he bids and he looms behind you to softly sing happy birthday in your ear; each line punctuated by a small kiss to your neck, shoulder, cheek, anywhere his lips can reach. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”
He brings the cupcake and the flaming candle towards you, gentle hands holding it within your breath’s reach. You turn to face him as you take the cupcake, his eyes soften as yours find his. You blow it out in one small huff and remove the candle. The frosting and cupcake are a bit stale but you share the treat with a few soft giggles and a swipe of chocolate to his nose. Though the petals are dying you pull the vase to the center of the counter before turning back to Calum to put yourself securely in his arms.
“I didn’t need the flowers or cupcake,” you start and before Calum can speak any words of you deserving more you continue on. “I just need you.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the top of your head. His fingers stroke through your hair and his hands come to settle on the small of your back. “I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again. You’ll always have me. Any day. Every day. I promise.”
You nod against his chest, your trust and faith in him infallible even after the day of desertion and misery.
“Then my wish came true,” you whisper as your cheeks blaze at the confession. Calum chuckles as you further hide against him. “You can’t laugh at me. It’s still my birthday.”
And even when the sun rises the next day, birthday long gone and the heartache of being alone starting to be forgotten, Calum wakes you with a surprise. You sit up to see him throwing your clothes in open luggage.
“What are you doing?” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed as you watch him neatly fold and then haphazardly throw garments in the bag.
“Packing your stuff.”
He doesn’t further explain and it prompts a, “why?” from you.
“So you have clothes to wear on our vacation.” He gives you a broad smile as the words roll off his tongue and he reaches behind him to throw papers onto the bed. They settle at your feet and you reach down to retrieve them, blurry words coming in and finally being processed. Boarding passes.
“Vacation?”
“Two weeks. Just us,” Calum explains as he goes back to packing your things for you. “We leave in an hour.”
The time limit pushes you up from the bed, his effort and act of grandeur making you throw yourself into his arms. Your clothes drop to the floor in favor of him bringing you closer.
“That’s more than I could have asked for,” you whisper with a crack in your voice.
Calum only smiles and finally says the words he’d been thinking for so long. “You deserve even more than this. Sorry it’s late. Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
* * *
If you’d like to be added to my taglist just let me know!
Tagged: @rosecolouredash​ @who-do-you-love-5sos​ @caswinchester2000​ @malumsmermaid​ @babylon-corgis​ @gosh-im-short​ @feliznavidaddycal​ @loveroflrh​ @findingliam-o​ @flowerthug​ @g-l-pierce​ @cashtonasfuck​ @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​ @notinthesameguey​ @lukesfuckingbeard​  @treatallwithkindness​ @haikucal​ @wiildflower-xxx​ @egyptiangoldhood​ @drarryetcetera​ @another-lonely-heart​ @megz1985​ @idk-harry​ @wildflower-cth​ @idontneedanyone​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @karajaynetoday​ @333-xx​ @calumshpod​ @calumsphile​ @calumrose​ @grreatgooglymoogly​ @calumance​ @ahoodgirl​ @chicken-ona-stick​ @wish-you-were-here-hood​ @hoodhoran​ @wiiildflowerrr​ @saywhatnow07​ @lonelyheart5​ @fallingforyou123​  @youngblood199456​ @kingxnichole​@wontlastimokwiththat​ @hemmingslftv​ @itsagurl​ @in-superbloom @highstwildflower
355 notes · View notes