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savingcrxws · 10 months

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EYES ON FIRE | just pretend

[ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen start off on the wrong foot and richie stirs the pot.

word count. 3.5k

warnings. language, hardly proofread but i tried

authors note. lets goooo, this is based off of this headcanon that i would recommend reading before this chapter(kinda treat it as a prologue)--lets get to part one!

"Richie, you dick."

If you had a dime for everytime Richard Jerimovich managed to inconvenience you, you could probably buy the Bean three times over.

But this, this really takes the cake.

“Well if it isn’t our little college graduate here in good ol’ Orleans Street,” Richie cheers, throwing his hands in the air in fake surprise as a smirk rises slowly onto his face. You feel like if you were to glare at the man any harder, you might actually make his head explode.

“What brings you here, sweetheart?”

You take a minute to try to collect yourself before you absolutely blow up in Richie’s face. Carmen stands directly across from you, just behind the bar, dressed in a dirtied white tee stained in a sauce of some kind. He’s very obviously avoiding eye contact with you, leaning over the bar and seemingly very interested in the walls around you.

“If I recall correctly, you asked me to come here, Richie,” you grit out, gripping the tote bag that hangs over your shoulder tighter. You press your lips together before a choice few words slide from between your teeth.

You see Carmen tense up at what you said, shoulders hunching up before dropping almost as quickly. The dirty blonde brings a hand up to his forehead in what you can only assume to be pure disbelief.

You continue. “You called me literally like, two hours ago.”

“Really, me? You sure it wasn’t another Richie? Maybe a Rick?”

“Richie, please don’t piss me off right now. I swear to God–”

A loud slam interrupts the developing argument and nealyr sends you flying out of your skin.

Your eyes dart over to Carmen, whose hands are splayed flat across the span of the bar. His head is tilted down, curls falling to cover almost all of what you could see of his face. He takes a breath before turning his head to look at the older man behind him.

His face is a bright red, angry flush sinking down past the collar of his shirt.

“Richie, you motherfucker,” he grits out, dragging a hand down his mouth before slamming his fist on the bar counter, rattling the plates and miscellaneous cups that littered across it. Richie tenses up behind him, catching on to the anger almost radiating off of him.

"Why the fuck would you invite her here?" Carmen yells, speaking of you like you weren't only a couple feet away from him. You frown, insulted at his disregard of you.

"Oh believe me, I hardly am jumping to be here myself, Berzatto." You spit.

Richie raises his hands in defense, taking a step back as Carmen bucks up towards him. “Hey, man, don’t shoot the messenger.” He casts a stray hand in your direction and Carmen’s eyes instinctively follow, making eye contact for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

The heat of his stare was strong, something that you could best describe as a blend of anxiety and anger. You notice that his eyes trail up and down your form, not in a "checking you out way" and more of a "I cant believe you're here right now" way.

“Bug usually never responds to my messages! Honestly, how was I supposed to know she would now,” Richie continues, still trying to maintain distance away from Carmen.

Carmen seems overwhelmed, split between jumping at Richie for his fake naivete or running a million miles away from you. He curls his hands into fist, and for a second, you think he's going to throw a punch. Quickly though, Carmen steps away from Richie and casts one more look towards you.

You wait for him to say something to your face, but he doesn't.

“I’m leaving,” Carmen mumbles under his breath, taking in another deep breath before abruptly turning and throwing open the kitchen door. The swinging door flies out and hits the wall, a sudden crack that you are sure would leave a dent later. Almost immediately, you hear the sound of distant bustling and pans clattering around.

A voice yells out in confusion. “What the hell, Jeff?”

You bring a hand to your forehead, feeling a headache incoming. It couldn’t have been more than three minutes and simply being around Carmen had given you more stress than you’ve had in the past week. Casting a glance up at Richie, you give him a final glare. The man simply shrugs his shoulders and gives a charismatic grin. “Well, that was pleasant wasn’t it, bug?”

“Ayo, Richie, what the fuck is up with Jeff,” a voice questions as they walk in from the path of destruction that Carmen left in his behind. The owner of that voice is none other than Tina, and for some reason, seeing her alleviates at least some of the headache you feel pulsating across your skull. Tina casts a confused glance at Richie, who simply points over in your direction. Tina’s eyes follow and when she makes eye contact with you a familiar smile drapes across her lips.

"Oh, well now I understand why Jeff's so pissed off."

"Yeah, and then the asshole has the nerve to act all coy, like he didn't blow my phone up with messages begging me to go down to the restaurant," you complained, throwing your head back to take another gulp of the wine in your cup.

In front of you, Sugar swirled her own glass of sparkling grape juice, shaking her head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

Shortly after Tina had walked out, you had left the restaurant (not before flipping Richie the bird) and immediately went to text Sugar for a rant session. Being the absolute angel that she is, she agreed almost immediately, stating that she had some qualms she wanted to rave about as well. Two glasses of Merlot for you and some non-alcoholic beverages for Natalie later, you two were sitting on the two ends of Sugar's couch, the TV playing a rerun of Selling New York as background sound for your current conversation.

"Yeah, Richie is a jerk." You nod in appreciation for her understadning your annoyance.

"And don't even get me started on you-know-who's reaction? He barely even acknowledged my existence!" You throw your free hand in the air. "Speaking about me like I wasn't right there?"

You release an exasperated sigh. "The ego on that guy."

Natalie hums, taking a languid sip of her drink. "Well, that sounds like Carmy alright. A tiny little ball of asshole-ery at any given point of time." The blonde reaches a hand over and places it on your knee. "Sorry my brother is such a dick."

You give a small smile at Sugar, resting your own hand on top of hers. "No need, it's clear you took all the 'sane person' genes in the Berzatto bloodline." Your joke pulls a giggle out of Sugar, the slight truth of her statement not missing between the two of you.

"But enough about me," you place your glass down on her coffee table before continuing. "What's going on in your life Nat?"

You listen as she rants about the stress of preparing for a bringing baby into the home. She talks about how those Al-Anon meetings she regularly attends are going, and how her one coworker Bryson seems to have a vendetta against her.

After a moment, Natalie coughs slightly, eyes darting across the living room in thought before returning back to you. "And well, I hate to keep talking about Carmy but..."

The smile drops quickly off of your face as Sugar trails the last word. "But what, Suge?"

"Buttt, Carmen's trying to rebuild The Beef," Sugar peers down into the contents of her glass as she speaks, "he's rebranding it as The Bear, and I've been trying to help him and the crew get everything sorted before they start tearing the building down."

You press your lips together tight at the mention of the familiar name.

"Personally, Carm, I don't see much wrong with the restaurant now?"

"The place is held together by a roll of duct tape and a dream, bug, I don't think you have to look very hard to see some issues."

You glance up at him from your position on his chest, looking as he gazed up at the ceiling of your bedroom. While his gaze was physically directed at the old glow in the dark stars scattered across the ceiling, you could tell his head was in a total different world.

"So you want to start a new restaurant?" You question, watching as Carmen shakes his head as soon as the words leave your lips.

"Nah, I just want to make it better, ya know? For Mikey, and Sugar, and Ma."

Sugar, noticing you are distracted, stops her sentence and gives a little frown, watching as your gaze drifts off somewhere distant.

Despite the years that have past, she knows that you still have feelings towards her brother. She was there for most of it, watching as you and Carmen went from daily hangouts to a weekly phone call, to a monthly check-in text, to, well, nothing.

She consoled you through most of the grieving phase of a post-breakup, like you had done for her a couple of times before. And after a few weeks of busting into tears anytime his name was mentioned, you began to heal, and focused those strong emotions towards improving yourself.

Natalie let a wistful sigh, pulling you out of your thoughts. Shaking the fog away, you give a remorseful smile at having basically cut Sugar off midway through her spiel. She gives you another small smirk before shaking her head, dismissing your silent apology with a wave of her hand. She draws another sip of her sparkling juice.

"But Carmen has been driving me up the wall with all the shit he wants me to help juggle. If I schedule one more appointment I might pull my hair out."

"Oh no, please don't do that, honey," Pete calls out from the kitchen, very obviously having been listening in on your gossip time from the kitchen table. Sugar gives off slight grimace at Pete's abrupt callout at her obvious exaggeration, shrugging her shoulders and giving a placating call back towards her husband.

Reaching back towards the table, you grab the wine glass from earlier. "Do you have anyone to help you? You know I have some connects who can manage the money and strategy end?" You offer, more than willing to alleviate some of the stress from your friend's shoulders.

"Yeah, can I have that guy who assisted you when you managed La Raison?" Sugar teases. "I have no idea how you managed to help that business go from near bankrupt to one of the best sellers down Michigan Avenue."

"Carter? Yeah, no. That dude was an asshat. He was more useful kissing up to the store owners than actually doing his job," you shake your head at the mention of one of your old employers. Since graduating, you had taken into strategic and financial management for businesses across Chicago. La Raison had been one of your main businesses for a while, the owners soon becoming close friends of yours.

You loved what you did, though business management sounded like a right pain to most, you found joy in being able to rub your braincells together and actually make a difference. Plus, the pay wasn't too bad either.

Sugar chuckles. "Yeah, well, I wish I could just have you as a little angel on my shoulder, giving me all the answers to all of these problems that keep popping up."

Though she was joking, you can see the way her brows furrow simply thinking of all of the things that she has to do. You could only imagine the stress she is under right now. Balancing opening a new restaurant with her ever-present family dilemmas, and a baby on the way?

Natalie was beyond used to extensive stress, so you know she won't verbally express all of her worries. But the thought of Sugar carrying all of that on her shoulders draws a slight frown on your face.

Before you know it, the thoughts are falling from your brain and past your lips.

"What if I helped you manage the place."

You honestly do not know why you offered to help manage this fuckery that is disguised as a restaurant.

Shortly after you had offered to help, it was as if Natalie had died, saw the light, and returned back to Earth. She squealed like a teenage girl and thanked you profusely. While she shaked you and explained all the things that needed to be done, you slowly began to realize the implications of your offer.

You, helping Natalie manage Carmen, your ex-boyfriend's, restaurant. A responsibility that would obviously take months.

And honestly, you were tempted to withdraw your offer despite the happy squeals of relief that Natalie was letting out. That was, until the tears of relief started pouring from her eyes.

Those pregnancy hormones really guilt tripped you.

Now, a week later, you're back at The Beef. Well, you suppose The Beef is gone officially now, the rusting sign pulled down from its former position hanging above the restaurant entrance.

"Why the hell did I sign up for this shit," you question out loud, watching as Manny and Angel pulling out a broken sign from inside the restaurant. Sighing, you reach into your bag and pull out a cigarette box, pulling one out before digging for your lighter in your back pocket.

"Mami, what are you doing here?" You turn around at the voice behind you, cigarette hanging loosely from your lips. Tina stands behind you, a smile stretched across her lips. "Seeing you two weeks in a row? Someone must be dying."

You smile, opening your arms for a hug that Tina reciprocates. "Oh you know, I'm here to save your asses from complete and utter failure." Tina gently pats your back as you pull apart, and it makes you regret not checking in on her and the rest of the crew more often.

"Missed you, T." You mutter, a small grin pulling up on one corner of your mouth.

"Missed you too, mami," Tina pats your arm before wrapping her hand around your elbow. "Now, I'm not trying to step on your toes but...you do know who your helping out right?"

You grimace at her implication, the reality hitting you once again. Behind those glass windows stands the man who took your heart and literally tossed it away like it was nothing. Took all of those years that you had spent together and wasted it away.

Broke up with you over fucking text.

And now, you're about to walk into his restaurant and help Sugar, and, consequently, help him fix this fuck up.

Talk about fate.

"Yeah, T," you start, letting her guide you towards the entrance of the restaurant, where you see Marcus and Fak carrying out some lockers. You wave towards the men, to which Fak responds with such enthusiasm that he drops some of the lockers on the ground, much to Marcus' chagrin.

You grimace before continuing. "Just helping my asshole ex because his sister is my bestie."

Sugar had texted you that Sydney, Carmen's former sous chef and business partner, had been more than happy to hire you as a strategic manager for the business. Although she didn't mention it, you knew that a certain dirty-blonde was not so excited at mention of you coming to help.

"He knows we need the help, no matter how fragile his tiny little ego is," Natalie had told you, a knowing smile on her face.

"Don't lose your head, boss." Tina teases, pushing you first through the doorway. As you finally enter the store, you take note of the pure chaos that is the restaurant.

Plywood and debris scattered across the flower, miscellaneous kitchen supplies and utilities lining the walls. Ebraheim and Sweeps were taking a sledgehammer to some random panels, while Richie was yelling something from the kitchen. As you take in the madness, Tina pats your elbow before heading back towards the kitchen.

"Welcome to The Bear!" Richie calls out as soon as he notices you. Spreading his arms out in what you assume is a hug, you only offer him a solid stare. Richie drops his arms and heads towards you despite your very clear disdain for him at the moment. "Glad you could join the team, bug."

"Richie, why the hell are you covered in black dust?"

"Inconsequential, sweetheart," you roll your eyes at his response before stepping over the debris in front of you.

"Where's Nat, Richard," you question walking behind the bar and towards the office in the back. Richie grumbles something under his breath before shouting out 'office.' Busting through the kitchen door, you note that the kitchen is just as messy as the front of the house. Stepping over black dust on the ground, you tread over to the office.

"Suge? You in there?" You call out, peering over the corner and into the office. The room is unoccupied, filled with nothing but discarded papers with miscellaneous phone numbers and sprawled writings.

You make note of what you know to be Nat's handwriting, eyes trailing over all of her notes for appointments and scheduling. Your eyes also rove over the chicken scratch that you also know to be Carmen's scribbles. Placing your bag down on the desk, you sit down in the rolling chair and decide to wait for Sugar to come in.

You grabbed a random pile of papers and attempted to digest some of the information being presented to you.

Bank statements, IRS requests, insurance, licenses, permits.

Judging by all the shit that needed to get cleared just for the restaurant to legally be open, your surprised that Mikey wasn't being physically chased down by the IRS and thrown into jail.

"Hey, Sugar, Syd and I are going to work on the chaos menu tonight so I'm going to leave the rest up to you, okay?"

Carmen slings around the corner, too focused on pulling his coat on his shoulders to notice who exactly was sitting in the office.

Instinctively, you freeze at his sudden appearance in the doorway, breath caught in your throat. At the lack of response, Carmen finally looks up and makes direct eye contact with you.

His blue eyes widen, clearly not expecting you to be the person in the chair. You rack your brain over the next move to make, the silence continuing as he just stands in the doorway and practically gawks at your existence.

Deciding that staring indefinitely at each other was probably one of the worst things you can currently think of, you clear your throat to break the silence. That seems to break Carmen out of whatever state of shock he seemed to be in; you watch as he awkwardly wrings his hands, like he was at a lost of what to do next.

You're half-expecting him to make a repeat of the last time you saw each other and storm away from you. However, Carmen just stands there, eyes darting from you to random objects in the office then you again on repeat.

Both of you are waiting for the other to say something. To yell, chastise, and start an argument.

Biting the bullet, you start. "Hey, Carmen."

He seems to be taken aback that you even uttered his name, eyes meeting yours once again. You almost forgot how blue his eyes are-so bright that they're almost clear.

He nods in acknowledgement before saying your name to greet you in return.

Awkward silence fills the room once again. While you know that Carmen is hardly a conversationalist, this has to be the most painful quiet you've ever experienced.

Be amicable, you think to yourself. He's your boss/business partner now.

You're doing this for Sugar.

"Umm..," you trail off, eyes scanning the office around you in attempts to find something else to talk about. "I tried to find Nat, but she might have gone A.W.O.L"

Carmen nods his head a couple of times, a soft hmm leaving his lips. You can tell that he wants to say something, the words on the tip of his tongue but sealed behind his lips.

"Yeah, ok-okay, yeah." He nods rapidly, crossing his arms across his chest, lowering his gaze down to your shoes.

"Yep."

God, someone shoot me now.

Carmen clears his throat. "I-I-uuhh, you know, Sugar really appreciates the help."

You nod, licking your lips out of habit. "Yeah, she's told me."

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

Just when you were about to figure out a way to turn invisible or sink into the floor, Sugar rounds the corner and lightly bumps into Carmen's back. She lets out a noise of surprise from her throat and Carmen jerks forward a little.

"Carmy, why the fuck are you standing in the fucking doorwa-" Sugar cuts herself off when she spots you over her brother's shoulder. She makes eye contact with you and you swear you see a little mischief in her eyes. She pushes past Carmen to step inside of the office, crossing her arms over chest to assess the room.

You, sitting in the office chair, papers still grasped tightly in your hands and your lips practically licked dry from your nerves.

Across, Carmen stands angled towards Sugar, almost trying to physically minimize the amount of eye contact you two share.

Natalie surmises that she just saved the both of you from a very awkward moment "Oh, shit. Didn't mean to interrupt."

"No-no, uh, you're good, Sugar," Carmen sputters out, face flushing a bright red. He brings a hand over his mouth to physically stop the word vomit that was about to fall out of it. "Umm, was just gonna tell you that Sydney and I are leaving to work on the new menu."

Sugar's eyes dart over to you again, sitting stiffly in the office chair. She raises her eyebrows in question but you subtly shake your head.

Let's not talk about it right now.

She nods in acknowledgement before turning to fully face Carmen.

"Okay Carmy, you're good to go. Me and Bug here are just gonna get some paperwork sorted." Carmen looks in your direction at the use of the familiar nickname before he hmms again.

He takes a step back and waves his hand in goodbye. "All right, bye Sugar," he's fully outside of the doorway now, but he pauses before leaving you and Sugar's line of sight completely.

He stands there for a beat, running whatever thought across his mind a couple times. Finally, like he settled on an answer, Carmen gulps and raises his head to look at you.

He nods his head and whispers out your name and a goodbye, followed by a swift exit out of the kitchen.

You're practically stuck in the chair, the past five minutes having been a complete whirlwind. The kitchen door whips against the wall in a crack, the squeaking echoing from your place in the office. Your gaze is still focused on where your ex-boyfriend had stood not even a couple of seconds ago.

"Well," Sugar starts, a knowing smile across her face. "That wasn't as violent as I thought it was going to be."

requests to be in the taglist for this fic in the replies below or send me an ask! thank you all for reading!

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #the bear x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white x reader #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear season 2

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spidernuggets · 25 days

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could you pretty please, if you have any request spaces left open, do a little something where y/n is like a ball of sunshine type character and nothing ever seems to break her or get her hopes down, but one day jason is suuupper pissed off about smth and he verbally takes it out on her and it makes her cry, and he feels bad immediately but won't admit to that just yet because he's in his asshole era (maybe this would fit titans jay better), and he just doubles down like why the hell are you crying that he's seen her handle waayy worse than this and still manage to stay upbeat, and she's like forcing herself to stop crying and pull herself together and she tells him it's cuz it's him and hes like oh of course you'd cry over me cuz I'm just so awful and she's like actually no cuz it hurts to be on the receiving end of his anger because she's a little bit in love with him. Angst is my absolute fav so that's why I'm asking for sadness 💔😢

Jason Todd x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

Note: Yayyy angst! 🥳🥳

"Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

"Hey, Jay! Wanna train together?" You came skipping into the training room, seeing Jason already throwing a couple of strikes to a punching bag.

"Not today." He replies, refusing to look at you and continuing to hit the bag, quickly wiping the sweat dripping from his forhead.

"C'mon, just one quick sparring match, hm? Please! You said you'd show me how to do that cool headlock thingy," you kept your upbeat attitude, missing the memo that Jason was not having it today.

"Jesus, I said no! Would you fuck off, I'm busy," he raises his voice at you.

He was in a mood because just a few hours ago, Dick threatened to bench him if Jason couldn't keep in line. If Jason won't stop disobeying orders, Dick wouldn't think twice about taking the mask and cape away from him.

But when Jason raised his voice, your smile quivered. "Oh.. I'm sorry. Maybe later, yeah? I know sparring makes you feel better!-"

You were cut off by Jason, fully yelling at you this time. "For fuck's sake, can you not take a hint or are you really that fucking dense? I don't wanna fucking spar right now, and I don't wanna spar with you! So how 'bout you get this through your thick skull, and fuck off!" He didn't mean to say any of that. He mentally punched himself for ever opening his mouth.

He knows you just wanted to make him feel better, but his stupid brain made him take his anger out on you. He always admired your happy and positive attitude. He doesn't know how you keep it up. Every time you walked into the room, it was like an angel came in with a glowing aura accompanying you. And his heart always swelled at the fantasy that you shared that aura with him every time you spoke a word to him, every compliment you gave him, every smile you sent his way. He wanted to apologise, but his thick pride got in the way.

"I..." You could barely get a word out. Jason has never talked to you like that before. Hell, he never even raised his voice to you before. You hiccuped, your throat getting clogged up, and you felt like you needed to hurl whike your chest ached.

It was too late before you noticed the salty tears travelling down your reddened cheeks. And it was too late before Jason noticed his mouth talking faster than his brain could think.

"Fuck, now you're crying?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "There's literally nothing to cry over, and I shouldn't even need to tell you twice to leave me alone!" What the fuck, why won't he stop talking?

You tried to wipe away your tears and tug your lips upward to show at least half a smile, but a choked out whine escaped instead.

"Honestly, stop crying, would you?" He really couldn't stop himself. Words just kept vomiting out his mouth like that time he drank one brew too many last time he kicked some villain's ass. He liked that memory. Granted, he was throwing up buckets, but you were behind him as he was hunched over the toilet seat. You thought he'd forgotten the next morning, but he clearly remembered how you were right behind him, rubbing his back in comfort, telling him you'd stay with him as long as he wanted. He also remembered the way you supported him up while walking him back to his room. He remembered you tucking him into bed, placing a trash can beside it, making sure he's sleeping on his side. He remembered you quietly reminding him about the water bottle you left on his nightstand. He also remembered that bold and cheeky peck you left in the soft curls of his head while telling him to get some good rest.

"You literally got stabbed and had a near death experience, and you were smiling the whole time you were recovering! Now you're crying? And for what?!"

"You- You're being mean," you sniffled.

He scoffs again and lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Oh, oh, of course it's me! Blame Jason Todd once again for being such a prick and an asshole!"

You tried holding in your sobs, but that led to you almost choking on your held breath, your chest feeling full, and your head feeling sore. Jason wanted nothing more for you to slap him, hit him, shut him up. He wanted to tell you he didn't mean it, that he was sorry. He wanted to run up to you, hug you in a tight embrace, and tell you not to cry because he actually is a prick and an asshole.

"Literally, why the hell are you still even here! Get lost, I'm not gonna say it again!" He yells for the final time before going back to the punching bag. And after the few seconds he got back to it, he glanced at where you were standing and saw you were already gone.

He curled over, leaning his hands over his knees, panting furiously. He wasn't sure if the tiredness came from the punches or the yelling. Maybe both. But picturing the broken look on your face pissed him off even more. Not because you were sad. Because he was the one who made you sad. This made him hate himself even more.

He tore the boxing gloves off his hands, projecting them off somewhere in the room, and yelled out in anger. He didn't even notice he started crying himself.

It's been another couple of hours. Your cheeks were long dried, but that didn't stop your shallow breaths from shaking continuously.

You then heard light knocks coming from your door. You took 3 deep and calm breaths before going towards it to see who it was.

Jason was pretty much the last person you'd expect to be standing on the other side. Furthermore, him holding a small bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands was the last thing you'd expect him to present to you. But you were scared to make the wrong move that might tick him off again.

"Jason, can we talk later I-" You said slowly in a whisper, looking at the ground while shaking your head, trying to close the door on him.

"Y/n, please," he holds the door, leaving a little gap open between you and him. "I'm sorry. I- I shouldn't have yelled, and I-"

"No, Jason, stop. It's my fault. I shouldn't have pushed you, and I'm sor-"

"Don't you dare apologise." This time, when Jason raised his voice, it was different. It was softer. "It's not your fault. I was just angry, and I took it out on you. The only thing I was right about was that I am a prick and an asshole. And- and I took your gorgeous smile away from you, and-" He started to word vomit again, but this time, it made your lips tug upwards. "And I don't want you to fuck off or get lost. I never want you to get lost because your so amazing and."

He continued his rambles and didn't notice that you opened the door wider. He tore his gaze away from the ground, and his heart raced when he felt your hands cupped around his own that were holding the flowers.

"The flowers are really pretty, Jay," you smiled at him.

Your happiness was so magnetising that he mirrored your smile. But it faltered. "I'm sorry," he repeats. "You shouldn't have cried over me because of how much of an asshole I am.."

You sighed, taking the flowers from his grasp and holding them close to your chest, your finger gently gliding over some of the petals. "Let's be real, Jason, you're always an asshole. But... I was crying because you've never been so angry at me before. I was crying because I hated knowing that I was the one who pissed who off."

"Shit, oh, sweet thing, no," he quietly replied, holding both your shoulders, making you look at him. Your face warmed at the nickname. "You- You didn't piss me off. I was already pissed off before that. It was just bad timing, and me being a hot head- you can never make me angry."

Neither of you realised how the two of you were in such close proximity.

"Well... you can make it up to me?" You say, your spark of sunshine and optimism coming back.

"Yeah- yes, how, I'l do anything," Jason quickly replied.

You step back, walking to your desk, pulling an empty vase to put the flowers in. "There's a cute cafe that opened downtown," you started, admiring the arrangement of flowers. "Go with me?" You shyly ask, back still facing him.

Jason smiled wider, thinking that alone time with you would count as a date. "Of course, sugar. Anything else?"

You giggled and turned around and crossed your arms. "Yes. You're paying, obviously," you walked up to him.

"Obviously," he copied.

"And I want this to be a date." This was a new, bold side to you. You've never been this straightforward before.

Jason glances up to the ceiling for a few seconds, pretending to think. "Yeah," he places his his hands on your waist, your own resting on his chest. "I think that could be arranged."

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soulcandi · 24 days

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 | 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

synopsis: on your fifth day at the lennox house, blue jones called you his puppy. and to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole, it stuck. it stuck like glue.

warnings: written with afab!reader in mind, fluff, heavy petting, mentions of sex, no explicit smut (yet), pet-play-ish, puppy!girl vibes, mentions of human trafficking (blue literally owns you), mentions of drug use, you smoke a cigarette at some point.

a/n: i actually published this on ao3 like...a long time ago, but i feel bad not posting anything here and also I'm re-watching this movie (sucker punch 2011) and it slaps so hard and i need to pressure you ppl into watching it too. go go go.

word count: 2,932

blue playlist, anyone?

Blue loosened his tie and listened for his office door to click shut behind him. He could feel the black makeup melting underneath his tired eyes that were still swimming from the two whiskies he downed at dinner with his potential client; the very same client he ended up losing by the end of the night. To top off that great show of success, he also had to fire one of his best men for trying to tamper with one of the dancers. She was new enough not to understand one of the most obvious rules at Lennox:

No one fucks with the merchandise without paying for it.

He would even go as far as to say they might have been a cute couple. If only one of them wasn’t lying in a ditch somewhere off the highway with a hole blasted through their skull.

While Lennox was just a front for his real business —the arms dealing, the coke smuggling, the gambling, all the fun stuff— taking care of his girls was often the most taxing part of Blue’s day. But he was sure that someone else could handle breaking up a few petty girl fights and settling disputes between dancers for a few hours. He was a promised man from now until sunrise.

He felt the weight of his day slip off of his shoulders as he slinked into the apartment. Being near you always had that effect on him. It was addictive.

Of all the girls that made up Lennox House, your name came the easiest to him. He nearly gave in when Sweet Pea started calling you Crybaby during your first week. And he had to give it to her, it was a fitting title at the time. But by the third day when you came to terms with your situation and those beautiful wet doe eyes finally dried up, you only ever pointed them at Blue.

You clung to him like he was your lifeline in an ocean of fierce eyeliner and suffocating hairspray fumes. And to make matters worse, he let you. He was the only one who didn’t glare as you walked through the dance studio, but he sure as hell wasn’t smiling either. Unassuming? Maybe. Bored? Absolutely. But bored was the closest thing you’d gotten in the way of kindness since you were booted through the front door. It didn’t occur to you that you should be afraid of the man who not only bought you from your family but who kept you hostage in that dark, lonely place for days on end.

It didn’t take long for boredom to melt into mild curiosity, which soon took the shape of vivid fascination. His thoughts were consumed by the girl desperately eager to earn her place amongst his best dancers, who didn’t know it but somehow got anything she wanted from the few girls who took pity on her.

His pride forbade him from immediately giving in to your gentle begging and pleading looks. He wanted to spoil you rotten from the very beginning. You had a natural talent for getting what you wanted and you would have done numbers on his clientele. It was a shame he could never bear to share you with his customers.

On your fifth day at Lennox, Blue Jones called you his puppy. And to the amusement of everyone else trapped inside this glittering hellhole of a prison, it stuck. Like glue.

“Puppy?” he called expectantly, a relaxed smile already making its way up to his lips as he loosened his tie an extra inch. The space was everything he could have ever needed —his office, bedroom, and living quarters— all without ever having to leave the building. He’d arranged for CJ to have you delivered there while he finished up his schmoozing, but you weren’t in your usual spot at the foot of the bed when he passed through the entryway.

Blue’s smile instantly tightened into a silent snarl, his eyes flickering around the small, warmly lit room. Evidence of your presence only lingered from the countless nights he had called you there for his own selfish reasons. Your perfume spun through the air in faded ribbons and his eyes fluttered shut as he savored the scent that seemed to follow you everywhere around this dirty place.

If you weren’t sitting there waiting for him, at least he knew you’d been there recently. There was at least some comfort in the image of you planted on your knees, pouting as you watched the clock mounted on the wall opposite of his desk, watching the minutes tick away into restless hours.

God, Blue knew he didn’t deserve you. He told himself that every time he came home like this just to sink against your warm, pliant body. He didn’t deserve you. But lord knew he needed you.

A soft noise drew his attention to the bathroom door, held slightly ajar by a mound of thin fabric that Blue immediately recognized as the costume you’d been wearing in the theater that night. He memorized the look on his potential client’s face when you bounced into the room with a tray of tequila shots balanced carefully in your hands.

“Close your mouth, hotshot,” he’d wanted to say, but there’s no fun in calling off the dogs before they start wagging their tails. “She’s spoken for.”

Blue pushed the bathroom door inwards with the back of his knuckle. The hot steam fanned his tired face and he bit back a desperate whine even before he ever saw you hidden there amongst a towering array of bubbles.

“Who said you could take a bath without me?”

He didn’t mean to startle you, but he certainly wouldn’t apologize for that delicious panicked expression on your face either. You were a shy little thing. A little less than a month at Lennox still hadn’t beaten that out of you. Blue had seen all sorts of girls in all sorts of states of undress, but you did something special to him. He had yet to decide if this was something to be wary of.

Your back had been to the door when he first entered. Blood rushed to your face and you moved to cover yourself with a small pile of bubbles that you’d accumulated as Blue swaggered closer to the tub, eyes shamelessly drinking in every inch of you that he could see. You felt caught, avoiding his gaze like the black plague.

He played with you too much. One of these days you were going to bite back and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to it. Setting his glass on the edge of the claw-footed tub, Blue kicked off his leather shoes and made a show of jutting his throat so his cigarette wouldn’t mar the red silk tie as he pulled it up over his head. “Just teasing, precious. Make room.”

The heat of embarrassment never left your face and you could only stare down at the iridescent bubbles as Blue undressed in front of you. You’ve only ever seen him bare from the waist down. Or rather — from button to fly.

Blue took it upon himself to teach you everything he thought a Lennox girl should know and he was generous enough to take the time out of his busy schedule to let you practice on him. You’ve memorized every pulsing vein and tender inch of his cock, just like he instructed you to, but it didn’t make you any more willing to unshield your eyes as your boss slipped underneath the veil of hot water beside you.

Was this your divine punishment for wandering out of the bedroom and drawing a bath without his permission? You could only lay upside down and count the ceiling tiles so many times before getting a headache.

Your hair was still pinned up from your time on the floor and Blue watched carefully as specks of glitter rivered down your bare collarbones. He was content in watching you manipulate the bubbles with your hands, stacking them in short towers and swirling your fingers through the water. He took a long drag from his cigarette. Those thick Cuban cigars were reserved for his highest-paying customers only. Besides, he never got used to the taste. Like aged paper and stale earth.

Blue watched you closely, his eyes trailing up and down the pale scars that littered your delicate fingers. He hated how eager you were to work alongside your friends in the kitchens. He made it very clear from the start that you didn’t have to do anything like that as long as he was around, but you persisted with those perfect little puppy eyes of yours.

One day he would have to say no to you. But that day was not today.

He found himself watching the security footage like a hawk whenever you had kitchen duty. After the cook’s little fuck-up with one of his girls a while back, he was hesitant to let something as dear to him as you anywhere near the backrooms.

But the pig seemed to have learned his lesson. If anything, he appeared to be under the same spell as he was. Poor little fucker. The only difference was that the cook never got to see you like this — stage makeup smeared from warm bathwater and perfumed steam.

Blue sunk lower into the tub, two fingers pinching his cigarette millimeters above the water’s surface. You were completely bare to him. The only thing decorating your body was a white leather band – just as wide as his thumb was long – secured around your neck. He studied the golden heart-shaped pendant nestled between your soapy breasts, tracing the letters with his half-lidded eyes.

PUPPY

A smug smile wrestled its way onto Blue’s lips, knowing that his name was printed just as bold on the opposite side, right after ‘property of.’ It was one of your first little treats after he became completely and utterly infatuated with you.

He made it a habit to bestow most of these treats upon you in the crowded dressing room or dance studio. He loved watching the lights in the other girl’s eyes flicker with raging jealousy as they studied your newest gift, knowing that while they shunned you for the next week or so, you would spend all of your time pouting in his bed while he worked from his desk. Once he got a taste of that view, it became impossible to focus on anything else.

“Can I try?”

Your voice rang out in the silent room like a bell. Your arms crossed over your concealed lap and the charm around your neck jingled from the movement. Your eyes were glued to the cigarette between Blue’s fingers and when he held it higher above the water to readjust his weight, you licked your lips hungrily.

You’ve seen the men on the club floor smoking them all the time as they watched the dancers perform. They smelled god awful and the smoke always clung to your hair even after you shower at the end of a shift, but you couldn’t help but wonder.

Blue chuckled, unable to hide his growing amusement. The water rippled as he reached across the tub. “Two fingers, there you go.” He instructed you on how to hold it properly, sitting back to watch the show with a snicker.

You wrapped your lips around the papery cylinder and breathed in deep, just like you’ve observed. The bitter smoke rapidly filled your lungs and you leaned forward to cough into your wet elbow, gingerly handing it back out to Blue who was barely containing an understanding chuckle.

“Nah, Nah, Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. C’mere.” He tapped his thigh underneath the water and you recognized it as one of his more casual commands, immediately abandoning your bubble creations to crawl across the floor of the tub until your back was resting up against his slippery bare chest. Your wet hair tickled his jaw as he took another inhale, worshipping the taste of you all along the mouth of his cigarette.

“Here,” he grumbled, skipping the part where he handed it to you just to pin the off-yellow end between your lips. A hand traveled up your throat and his thumb stroked the underside of your jaw encouragingly. “Suck in. Deep.”

It’s a command and he growls it, watching your chest rise and fall with the glowing of the embers. When he wants you to stop, he taps your cheek with the back of his finger. “Hold it.” And obediently, you do.

With the fresh, mind-clouding smoke swirling around in your lungs, Blue leans down and slowly kisses up the column of your throat, beginning his journey right above your white leather collar. Such a good girl, letting him pet you like this. He marks you with his lips all the way up to your earlobe, ending your torment with a harsh nibble.

“Okay,” the word leaves him in a regretful breath and he clings to the lingering taste of your skin on his lips. It’s the first time you’ve bared yourself to him like this and he wasn’t going to let you get away without memorizing every curve and dip of your flesh. “Let go, puppy.”

The smoke fans from your parted lips without a single cough or wheeze of discomfort. As soon as the last of the vapors were expelled from your lungs, you turned around to project your proud beaming face at Blue, which he returned tenfold as he let his eyes roam your face freely. Look at you, doing just what he asked.

He took the opportunity to hike you up taller in his lap until your stomach was pressed flush against the underside of his hardening cock. He groaned at the way your thighs instinctively tightened around his torso. Your eyes grew wide as you smoothed your hands over his chest. Blue smirked, chin jutting upwards in a shallow nod. “Kiss me.”

Like you’d only just been waiting for spoken permission, you instantly captured his lips with yours, allowing his firm hands to rock your hips against his lap in painfully slow circles that made you whine softly into his open mouth.

He allowed his hands to travel freely over the landscape of your body, his hands gliding over your wet skin. Your soapy breasts felt like heaven under his fingers and you let out a desperate little pant as the rough pads of his thumbs rolled over your untouched nipples. The pleasure caught you off guard and you giggled into his kiss. Unbeknownst to you, Blue was memorizing the feeling of your smile and how it molded perfectly against his.

The drugs did nothing for him. But this — you — he could see himself easily becoming addicted to.

A heavy knock shook the door to Blue’s office. He hadn’t thought to close the bathroom door when he was still clothed and he could make out the silhouette of one of his henchmen behind one of the stained glass panels past the entryway.

“Mr. Jones?”

“Yeah! Just… One —One minute!”

He wasn’t quite done navigating your body, but you seemed put off by the presence at the door, already trying to sink deeper into the protective bubbles. He doesn’t like that—how you try to hide yourself from him.

You’ve turned yourself to face the door now, eyeing the silhouette although you knew whoever it was couldn’t see a thing past the pictured glass. Blue was the only man in Lennox House who didn’t look ready to eat you alive at a moment’s notice. Other than CJ, who always seemed like he would rather be someplace else as he trailed behind his boss and dutifully cleaned up his messes.

Blue accepted this new position and began assaulting your neck with hungry kisses that made you yelp and melt back into his arms. The knocking starts again, turning thunderous just as he decides to explore the territory that you’ve kept hidden underneath the canopy of soapy water.

His fingers traced your outer thighs, rolling his fingers in loose circles as he inched his way closer and closer to your core. Blue could nearly feel the tips of his fingers tremble with anticipation before another series of knocks broke his nearly religious concentration. He glared at the doorway as he pulled away, bringing both hands up to clutch your jaw and turn your face to the side so he could plant one last parting kiss against your cheek.

“Dry off,” he barked, a little peeved at himself for letting his workday anger seep into this one moment he had with you. His other hand came up and patted your cheek. “I want you on the bed when I get back.”

The fresh towel he haphazardly secured around his waist did very little to obscure his growing erection and he cussed under his breath. Gathering his clothes into a pile, he heard the water stir behind him and peered over his shoulder to see you leaning halfway out of the tub, looking up at him compliantly. “Okay, Blue,” you chirped, only sounding slightly dejected by his brief dismissal.

It was like hearing his name for the very first time every time you spoke it. Blue huffed, now glaring sharp daggers at the figure standing just on the other side of the door. Whatever required his attention so desperately better be worth it. Because if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t hesitate to drop another body into that ditch.

#sucker punch 2011 #sucker punch #blue jones #blue jones x reader #blue jones fanfiction #fanfiction #sucker punch fanfiction #candywrites #puppy #spicy content #oscar isaac #oscar issac characters #oscar issac x reader #oscar issac hernandez estrada #x reader #reader insert #fem reader

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leslie057 · 1 month

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17a and 3b?

hii, thank you for the prompt!

prompt game posted here

17a + 3b = the semantics are totally outdated + but they can’t talk

word count: 3.4k | pairing: jonathan x nancy

but i can't live by those stakes, the semantics are totally outdated -sam fender, last to make it home

Her summer, china shop. Lowe and Holloway…two biggest, most aggressive bulls a matador could wish for.

And even that is such an undeserved accreditation, that semblance of animal majesty and dominance and punch, since her china’s literally in mint condition. She’s doing just fine, the guys don’t scare her. They’re not capable.

Her issue isn’t fear, it’s rage. More rage than Jonathan knows what to do with at times. The flush of red on her face, the urge to choke in her hands, the hair-pulling (his hair, not hers) and the pacing, all too wayward in his pen, burning up each of the four corners at once. Not that he’s much of a firefighter—pretty clear that he likes for a girl to take everything out on him, as long as her methods are nonverbal. He’s not gonna smother a flame when he could just let the flame smother him. He loves a good path of least resistance.

Things are different between them, inside the Hawkins Post. She can see him struggling with that, with meanings lost and rules rewritten, her amendments unfairly implicit as she switches up on him, forcing her sweet mariner into the Atlantic with his map of the Pacific. No, his map of the Wabash River. She doesn’t mean to respond differently to him, it’s just that she has to be careful with the way she carries herself here because no one wants to take her seriously. There aren’t many wins to be had by a teenage girl in this building, and there really aren’t many wins to be had by a teenage girl who lets her boyfriend dote on her in this building. The pep talk thing, the passive pity, the hey come here you’re okay after any negative reaction she has…he’s making it worse without realizing.

She’s making it worse, too, though. In her own way.

Keeps getting them in trouble, for example.

Today they're in trouble because of what she convinced him to do yesterday. Apparently, leaving work ten minutes early is really a no-no. Her bad. (She needed out, Lover’s Lake was calling to her. They don’t go much, but when it’s raining? When it’s raining that lake belongs to them. No other couple in town is weird enough to go in thunder and lightning, it is their thing, they own it. Privacy is a guarantee. Never mind that inducing the feeling of drowning has been a secret placation of her survivor's guilt lately, a quiet way to exhaust herself and surrender to nature's embrace for a while, to let it take her over, knocking her down a peg as it comes down in heavy sheets. It should have been her on that diving board two years ago, it really should have.) She never said their date habits were healthy. Oh, except the splashing, the splishing. That’s a normal couple thing. Very healthy.

They’ve been given different punishments for slipping out; he’s meant to be folding all the newspapers, she’s supposed to be stapling reports. It’s 4:45, and they just started. They usually use this time to clean up, but whatever doesn’t get done before five is unpaid work.

So that’s fun.

In the main room they serve their silent sentence, each stationed at opposite ends, less than consumed by their tasks. There’s an early golden hour effect outside; she can tell with the warm glow that’s seeping in between the window blinds, teasing her, testing her, tempting her to just walk out again. Despite her best efforts to focus on work and keep her distance from Jonathan, she does think about him a lot under this roof. And other roofs. And every roof. Like now, she’s thinking about how he’s staring at her and how strange it is that she knows he’s staring at her even with her eyes cast down.

I can feel that.

She combats the softness of the sentiment with a hard press on the stapler. Loud click is overly loud. Obnoxious. Swiping the heavy thing across the desk, she lets it clunk against the lamp’s square base. If he wants to daydream about her, he’ll have to romanticize her inclination towards inanimate object abuse. (Imagine the emotional release in banging that ashtray on this typewriter. Personally, she’s imagining it.)

She tips her head up to check on him. Okay, he is romanticizing how pissed off she is. Blinks at her like she’s some unusual celestial something at the end of a telescope, pretty and rare. He brightens up over there as he realizes that he got her attention, making a small posture adjustment, leaning her way. Still slouchy, of course. She wants to glare, she does, but the edges of her gaze are being anonymously softened and all that’s left behind is a tender, conflicted expression. What do you want from me, it says. This is intern detention after all. Not social hour.

With a gentle glance he offers her some support, devoid of any pressure or demands. Nothing, Nancy.

She ducks her head and goes back to her report stack. But as quickly as she dives back into the task, she comes out again. He has something to tell her—she can feel it. When she looks up, he's tapping his thumb at the base of his throat, which is kind of weird even for him. His hand hovers near his collar before he motions to her, a silent prompt. She takes the signal and touches the same spot on her neck, brows knit together. Your necklace, he’s trying to say, miming the action of spinning it around, repositioning the clasp and extender so that they’re at the back and hidden away. Your necklace is backwards. She fixes it accordingly, embarrassed by nothing in particular it’s just…yeah, Bruce Lowe definitely doesn’t need to be provided with any joke bait below her neckline.

Bonus points for the ever attentive boyfriend. Just this once, his tendency to space out and stare at her has gotten them somewhere. Good boy.

She busies herself with the stapler, determined to get them out of this place sooner rather than later. Count, separate, slide, straighten. Staple, stack, repeat. Repeat repeat repeat. She wishes she had someone to compete with, to race against. Her brother, maybe, because Jonathan isn’t competitive. Then this would go faster. In the warm office, heat sprawls on top of her, slowing her movements. Sweat has already pooled at the small of her back, gathered behind her ears, formed a light sheen along her jaw. So much for box fans.

Her mind strays away from the chatter around her, a few abrupt fantasies now steering her thoughts. Hormonal thoughts. She’d ignore the love rush if she could, but it’s on her, on her like a sticky lotion in June weather, soaking slowly into her skin. Being seventeen is—yeah. Difficult.

Crazy difficult, once you factor in the need to be a professional mini-adult and not associate with the person you take to bed.

There’s just…it’s her, and Jonathan, and the necklace, and she’s taken off the necklace, held it taut against his neck, not choking him per se, no, but softly sawing at him with the chain until there are faint red lines impressed in sensitive flesh. Who knows where this came from; she’s never done anything like it. Doesn’t typically play so rough with him that there’s physical evidence more severe than your average hickeys or scratch marks. This job is turning her into a hazard.

She indulges for a couple seconds longer in the dumb image that had momentarily eclipsed her reality. He’s not looking at her when she looks up at him, but somehow it feels like their telepathic dialogue is still going, born from shared frustrations.

I want to be done here.

I know, we’ll be done soon. We’re fine, keep stapling.

And maybe she wouldn’t have to take off the necklace. Because he has his tie, his not-so-nice tie. Okay, without sugarcoating, it’s ugly. The one that’s currently loose, gray with diagonal brown stripes, pencil-thin stripes; it would be way more fun to pull across his throat compared to her necklace. Of course, she wouldn’t lead with that, she’d be counteracting with the super soft services of a needy mouth, settling on the kindest way to release her anger and affection in one fell swoop. (Why is it that the uglier the tie design, the bigger her heart? She’s wanting him bad this afternoon.)

In a moment of distracted clumsiness, she knocks over her box of staples, several of the refill strips breaking apart on the ground, their clatter piercing through whatever awful discussion was being had by these overpaid husbands and fathers.

“Wuh-oh,” Bruce interjects before carrying his conversation on. Not as big of a deal as when she fumbles a lunch order, but bad nonetheless; she’s on her knees in a dress, catching everyone’s double takes. A sideshow act to glance at intermittently between unrelated one-offs and cigarette drags.

Jonathan’s soon kneeling by her, ready to lend his assistance. Yeah, absolutely not.

The more he helps her, the more of a girl she is. Her eyes plead with him, begging him to remember that any perceived dependence on him will undermine the tiny shred of social authority she has here.

I love you, but get away from me.

Pouting, he backs off, an achy longing lingering between them. He chooses instead to go tend to the coffee grounds she’d yet to throw out.

Despite the distance enforced by circumstance, and her annoyance, she remains fixated on him, finding some solace in that mental landscape. When they leave this place within the hour, everything will go back to the way it was, and she can go back to speaking in a language they both understand.

She scoops up the staples and tidies the desk. Resumes her work without a second thought, waiting for the embarrassment to bleed out of her.

By five after five, they’ve almost finished up their punishment tasks. The office is more peaceful than before, hushed and dreamy, as their older colleagues file out, letting paper cups and gum wrappers fall into trash cans whose bags she and her boyfriend replaced an hour ago.

Tom switches off a couple lamps, touches his watch (with that bizarre air of supremacy and boredom). On his way out, he claps her chair on the back. “Keep up the good work,” he says. “No more sneaking out early.”

At least she’s getting credit for something. For leading the rebellion.

She watches Fallon, the receptionist, push in her desk chair and begin to pull at the hem of her skirt. As she passes by Jonathan, she carelessly drops a keyring into his lap, instructing him to lock up when they go. She also calls him Jordan. Not a thought in her head.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, “have a good night.”

They’re left all alone when the last footsteps fade away, and she shifts in her spinny chair. For possibly the first time today, she takes a deep breath in, a deep breath out. This is good. This is better.

It’s sort of warm and sweet and spongy—cakelike, she’d say—the growing sense of comfort she has in the privacy that’s been laid upon them. That, or she’s hungry. They should pick up a cupcake from the bakery downtown. Key lime, lemon, one of their seasonal flavors. No, wait, the bakery closed a few minutes ago. Not that they get much business anymore. (If they shut down and the mall ruins her and Jonathan’s cupcake sharing thing, she might choke someone. She might kill.)

Though her gaze is locked on him, he keeps his head slanted down, not acknowledging her or their privacy.

She taps the desk, slides her tongue behind her teeth, resentment creeping in amid neglect. This is the part where their tension falls away, right? The part where he apologizes for overdoing the boyfriend thing, and then gives her his undivided attention until one or two in the morning, thus overdoing the boyfriend thing, but in the right place at the right time. Trying to make up for the shittiness of their internship, trying to help her bubble wrap all the china in her china shop before morning comes around again.

He’s slumped down over there, sleeves cuffed, collar half-popped, movements slow as he calmly creases his final papers. The box fan’s soft currents delicately ruffle through his hair, and at first glance, he doesn’t have a care in the world. At second, though, he’s wearing a bit of a frown, moodily refusing to acknowledge anything but himself and his newspapers.

And yet. She can’t deny the magnetic pull drawing her that way. With a defiant flip of her hair, she sets out to close the big gap between them and put an end to the ridiculousness. They shouldn’t be ignoring each other upon being given total privacy, not even for a second. Reaching his space, she stops in front of his chair, leaning back on the edge of the desk. She’s the wall between him and his paper stack.

He sighs, eyes cast up to her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she parrots.

“You’re done?”

“Pretty much.”

“Me too.”

He’s still in that place of self-minimization, that corrective headspace following the staple incident. He’s stuck on being quiet and invisible and adult and the absolute opposite of lovey and dovey. It’s no longer necessary.

She fidgets with her ring blindly, an anticipatory energy working itself up inside her, right under her ribcage. He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it quickly. Guarded, he averts his gaze.

“You’re allowed to correct her, you know.”

“Huh?”

“Fallon. You don’t have to let your name be whatever she decides.”

The silence stretches between them, a tight wire, trembling faintly, a few touches away from snapping. She’s unsure if he’s playing a game here or if he simply doesn’t feel like talking. You never know with him (but she does).

“We’re allowed to talk now, you know,” she adds.

A beat.

“Your dress is messed up,” he says, to himself more than her.

“What?”

“The hooks on your dress. You accidentally skipped the first one.”

“I—” she starts. Her jaw hangs. Curious, she feels for the mismatched hook and eye clasps below the frilly collar of her dress, and she finds that the bottom one did get skipped over. This is what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, wake up late, and have to dress yourself in sixty seconds. She huffs. “Well come fix it?"

Because he has to want to. He likes this dress a lot, he’s never said anything, but he does. It’s white and yellow, not any yellow, but like a buttercup yellow, semi-sheer with an open ruffly collar and wide sleeves. He would want the excuse to touch it. He would want that sense of purpose, that delegation of mess-fixing. She’s so rarely a mess when there are no monsters to slaughter. He’s usually the one with the inside out shirt, the smudge of lipstick on his face. This is his one chance.

His bottom lip curls, and his shoulders shrug. “Thought you wanted to pretend like we don’t know each other.”

“Jonathan…please come fix it.”

She reaches out, and without a word he holds her hand, standing up. He bites down on his tongue, presses it against the side of his mouth, looking like he knows how cliché this is but is too sad to complain. He moves closer, his hands gentle as he begins unfastening those top four hooks so he can fasten that fifth one, the one she’d skipped before she also skipped breakfast. Her eyelids sink, wispy bangs brushing the tops of her eyes as the fan’s whisper of a breeze plays over her.

He’s still working with the clasps when her hands find his neck, tickling their way to the ends of his hair, curled by humidity.

To her surprise, he doesn’t flinch when she sneak attacks him, stealing a kiss off his mouth. Just makes a huffy sound afterward, all judgy eyes and short breaths and pinked skin. “Does that mean you like me again—”

She guides the slipping of their lips, a soft sensation of stickiness lingering in the inbetween. “Shut up,” she murmurs, “I never stopped.”

“Yes, you did.”

Plush lip tissue gives way between her careful teeth as she nibbles, trying to draw out a whimper or a groan or some other noise of desperate compliance. She thinks she hears an ow, and if she did, that’s good. His ow isn’t code for hey that hurts, his ow is like a regular boy’s don’t stop, I need more.

“I did not,” she argues.

“You did, you said so.”

“When?”

“With your face.”

She tightens her grip on the back of his collar and pulls. Seeking a diversion, she peppers his mouth, the tip of her tongue relaxed, impressively subtle. A muffled squeak leaves him as the collar tightens around his throat, and she lets go, releasing him. Maybe she does feel a little bad. “Don’t be so sensitive,” she says, but her words lack conviction, and her heart’s not in the dig. “I know I’ve been acting weird. It’s not about you.”

He rests his forehead on hers. “It’s only about them?”

“Duh, it’s about them.”

They put the conversation on hold among their shared prioritization of making this into more of a makeout than just a way to argue. Kissing mainly because it feels good to kiss, and bad to not. Their age demands this, pushes them. (They’ll grow out of the phase someday…she assumes. If she ever learns how to control herself. Perhaps.) She noses her way to his jaw while getting wrapped up in a hug, the gleam of sweat under her lips pleasantly salty. “So sweaty,” she teases (though she’s burning up, too). His breath hitches, and he doesn’t start the banter back up, doesn’t say what’s on his mind which is probably: I didn’t ask you to come over here and lick me like a cat.

Eventually they do separate a few inches, significantly more satisfied than before, significantly more pink in the face. Her head tips, and her tired eyes follow the path of daylight pouring in through the window, casting long shadows across the office floor as he distractedly massages her shoulder.

“Not that I’m complaining…” he begins, and her lashes flutter, her ears tune in, “but you are sending me mixed signals here.”

He’s right. Her professionalism has come at the price of his trust and certainty. She’s still adjusting to the job, getting used to the fact that she’s not particularly needed, wanted, or respected here. Jonathan doesn’t get it, and a Jordan wouldn’t get it, or a Josh, or anyone else who has never been on the receiving end of that coffee maker too tricky for you, sweetheart?

His concern is being obedient, being good, getting paid, keeping to himself, not making a fuss. It makes sense that he’d want to pep talk her out of her anguish, but it’s not healthy for her reputation. She thinks he owes it to her to roll with the punches for a little while.

“I know. I’m still figuring all this out. You’re gonna have to buckle up and settle in for now.”

“Do you think I could have a…handbook, or something?”

“A handbook?”

“I want the dos and don’ts. I want to know what you think makes you look bad and what doesn’t.”

She laughs softly. “That could be arranged. I’ve always wanted to write a book.”

After they’ve hesitantly split up and attended to closing tasks, she takes pride in the fact that they’ve only had to do twenty minutes of unpaid work this evening.

The remaining lights get switched off, and they gather their things, ambling to a door whose glass promises the return to a nicer world, a return to wide prospects—night drives and music, dinner and shared showers, lakeside commitments and homemade cupcakes.

“Hey,” she murmurs, hand curling around a few of his fingers, “just so you know, about that handbook: I haven’t forgotten about the darkroom.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, I just mean that I don’t think any of the rules would have to apply to the darkroom. It’s private, it’s safe, it’s…rule-free, isn’t it?”

“Umm…”

"You can pick up as many staples for me as you want in there."

creds to @musicalchaos07 for helping me come up with this idea, and creds to @wanderleave for picking his tie color for me

#*fic #jancy fic #stranger things #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #jonathan x nancy #prompt fill #*ask #fanfiction #st fanfic #lyrics #songs #they lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship #faithfulcat111

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harringrove-cafe · 5 months

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Really curious about the state of the kitchen after all these baking and cooking

A ficlet to answer your question!

The kitchen was literally turned upside down.

Billy and Steve had no idea what they were getting into when they invited all these people to bake and make beverages at the café.

Joyce and Hopper kept their station tidy. They didn’t have to make too many drinks, but they were really there to be chaperones. Joyce was nice enough to clean the coffee maker and wipe down some of the countertops. She also made sure everyone stayed hydrated and ate enough.

But she could only do so much in a kitchen full of chaos!

Now, Eddie, he was all over the place! He was making treats with Billy and Steve, another with Chrissy, one with Jason and another with Chrissy Billy and Steve! There were a lot of metal sandwiches being made, and that meant a lot of fires when toasting the marshmallows. A few aprons needed to be discarded because they caught fire. Billy’s hair also caught fire. Steve’s devastated that his boyfriend has split ends now.

Chrissy was the princess of the kitchen. She cleaned up after herself, helped however she could, and had a wonderful time baking and making drinks with everyone. She did get sleepy quite early, though, so Eddie set her down in the lounge and let her use his jacket as a blanket.

Jason, as it turns out, loves baking. He's quite the perfectionist and kept stressing himself out, but Eddie did everything he could to keep the momentum up and tell him how great their cookies looked. They goofed off a lot. Jason was shooting candy basketballs into Eddie's mouth. He didn't miss often, but when he did, the candies rolled around the floor and into spaces Eddie couldn't reach without his hand getting stuck.

Jason and Eddie tried to clean as they went along, because Billy kept side-eyeing them and they have no idea why, but they got tired and fell asleep. Billy will probably pick a fight with them before the night is over.

Jonathan and Argyle baked some brownies, ate a few and fell asleep as well. Billy is still waiting for them to wake up and clean up the mess they made. He tried to wake Argyle, but Argyle promised him some free purple palm tree delight if he let them sleep for "a little while longer" (a little while longer was 5 hours ago).

Lucas, El and Max, we know they made a huge mess. Mostly on purpose. Max started food fights with Billy, El flung ice cream and chocolate onto the ceiling and Lucas knocked over a couple of glass plates. He swore it was an accident, but Steve said he better pay it off from his allowance. Those plates were expensive, and fancy. Billy said he shouldn’t have bought them. They’ve been finding shards of glass on the floor for a day and a half now! Unfortunately, they have curfews, so they won't be there to help clean up. Billy's thinking about banning them for life, but Steve won't allow it.

Let’s not talk about Tommy being afraid of the deep fryer and getting oil all over the place...he almost started a grease fire!

He did, however keep his and Carol’s station clean. Carol cleaned the blender. She did a lovely job. She did punch the blender a few times, though, so it might not even work anymore...

Heather told Billy from the very beginning she wasn’t touching anything outside of her station because she didn’t want to get too dirty. Robin had other plans, though. She thought Heather would look cute with a chocolate button nose, and smeared some chocolate on her face. Heather tried to get her back by throwing some chocolate at Robin, but missed, so the kitchen wall got a nice chocolate snack.

Jason cleaned Chrissy and Heather’s station for them, because Heather is blackmailing Jason with something incredibly embarrassing (no idea what it is. maybe someone else knows?) and Heather is taking a nap with Chrissy in the lounge.

TL;DR the kitchen looks like it was hit by a tornado. Not to mention the portal in the wall that won’t close! There have been strange sounds coming from it for the past 24 hours, but I don’t have an answer for that at this time.

#harringrove cafe customer service #mod answers #harringrove cafe fics

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sleeplyparks · 5 months

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First fic on this account, let’s go!!! This is just a silly story where Jeff & Sally r literally siblings guys. You don’t understand, look at them. I’m going insane.

Word Count — 1,511

Date — 2023-11-19

Note — this FIC does not include any romance at all, only platonic relationships are shown.

Scattered Drawings

The kid was weird, Jeff had decided that weeks ago when she had first came to the mansion. She had kept quiet, which was fine at first, then she started to follow him around the mansion like a lost dog.

“You have a shadow,” Tim comments from the sidelines, and Jeff has to bite back a remark. He knows he does, the little shit had been following him all morning! Everywhere he went, he had spotted a pink dress in the corner of his eye, and stare of two dull green eyes.

“Thanks, captian obvious.” He mutters, ignoring the look from Tim, and he most definitely refused to knowledge the sound of floor boards creaking just a couple inches away from him, instead prompting to grab some food from the cabinets.

Tim leaves the kitchen, meaning that Jeff is alone with the kid. He can feel her stare from be-hide him, he lets out a groan, turning around. “Fuck do you want?” He asks, tried and done of being trailed after.

She doesn’t answer, the only thing she does is bounce on her heels.

He frowns, looking the girl over— and really he should probably learn her name. “Can you talk?” He tries again, she just stares ahead with that creepy expression— he looks at her, slightly unnerved.

“Okkay then, do you want toast?” He questions, turning around to grab some bread from the cabinet, “can you even eat bread?”

He glances at her. She says nothing.

“You’re getting bread then,” He decides for her, passing the piece of probably stale bread at the girl. She looks at it, and for a second he thinks he has to ask if she knows what bread even is— but she smiles. “You gonn’ eat it?” She doesn’t answer.

Fuck, children we’re weird.

—

The next day, unpredictability, she follows him to breakfast. Eyeless Jack is at the dining table, and moves his head towards the sounds of him walking— his mask is slightly lifted to expose his mouth.

“Jeffery, you’re up early.” The demon comments, and jeff has to hold back a scoff because he was— its eight am, usually he wouldn’t wake till the hours passed noon, but a certain little shit had woken him up by walking into his room.

The same little shit that is currently following after him.

“Fuck you, man. You’re not the only one who can wake up early.” He says, sliding into a seat across from Jack. The other just raises an eyebrow, before frowning. “There’s another presence?” Fuck, Jeff was gonna punch him in the face. Who even says presence anymore? “Yeah’, the kid the big man picked up.” He says, but gets caught off guard by a tug on his sweater. He glances down, and dirty little fingers are gripping at the back of his hoodie.

He looks back at Jack— and yeah, well. He’s a bit of a unsettling dude to watch eat, especially when the thing he’s eating is quite literally a human limb. Sometimes, he forgets how desensitized most people in the mansion are to well… everything.

He looks at the girl, who seems to be worried— or scared? Fuck, he doesn’t know, but for some reason he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like seeing her.. being like that.

Before Jack can get a word in, he stands up, pushing his chair out from the table. “Well, nice chatting, jackie, but I gotta go.” He ignores how the girls hand is on the sleeve of his sweater now, following after him as he leaves the dining room.

—

Natalie, because of course it’s Natalie, who brings it up one day when they were trailing the forest.

“The new kid seems to like you.” She states, it’s not a question.

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Yeah, the fucker can’t seem to go a step away from me.” He was surprised when she hadn’t shown up to follow him on patrol, some part of him was worried. He ignored that. Natalie laughs, it’s sharp, ugly, but it’s Natalie, so it’s fine.

“Stuck to you like glue.” She laughs, he huffs.

“Hopefully she latches off, man. Maybe she’ll go to Jane or somethin’, give me a break.”

“Oh c’mon, I thought you would’ve liked the fact that she follows you around.”

“What?”

“‘Cause of your big ass ego, bigger than your forehead.” She snarks, and his eyes snap towards her, “I will stab you. I will stab you so good.” He narrows his eyes.

“Nah, I’m one of the only Proxies you like, you wouldn’t.” Natalie teases, it’s light hearted, but true. He bites his tongue. “Fuck you.” He says instead.

—

He comes back from patrol, and there’s blood on his pants and sweater. Some loser adults we’re trailing the woods, trying to hunt down something. He walks into his room, welcomed in by his usual mess of a bed and floor— changes clothes, but before he can lay in bed he spots a paper on his covers.

It’s, well. It’s a drawing, not a well crafted one, by any means— but it’s a drawing for him, with two stick figures, a girl with a triangle pink dress and a more taller stick figure with black scribbles for hair and a red mess for a hoodie.

In the corner, the very top corner, there’s a little name scribbled in hot pink crayon— the name Sally, with a little heart.

Oh. The girls name was sally.

Without a second thought, he gently— more gently than he has ever held something before, puts the drawing on his wall with some loose tape he had found from his drawer.

—

Unlike the past week, he doesn’t get woken up early. Instead, he wakes up at two in the afternoon— he can hear footsteps from downstairs, and mumbled talking as well.

He has an urge to roll over and go back to sleep, but he doesn’t. Instead he sluggishly throws on a white tank and some pants he had found on his floor— before heading downstairs.

He was halfway down the stairs when he realized there wasn’t any footsteps from be-hide him. He turns his head, and the girl— Sally, isn’t there. He shakes his head, and goes down to the kitchen, where Brian seems to be one second away from dying while Ben talks his ear off.

He goes through breakfast, has a slight chat with Brian about the bitch ass that is Masky, but Sally never comes around.

“Have you seen the kid?” He questions Ben, who seems to be more interested in getting to the next level on his video game, or whatever. “Uh, the little girl? Short brunette?” He nods, cause who the fuck else would he be talking about? “Nah, haven’t seen her.” He says, back to his game.

“Thanks, Ben.” He says, dryly, ignoring the chippy “you’re welcome!” he gets in return.

Because he’s dumb, it takes him fifteen minutes to realize that she’s probably in her room— the room that was originally a spare office, until the operator came back from a child. On the door, there’s a sign that has a very badly drawn stuffed bear with the name Sally next to it.

He knocks on the door, and there’s some movement, but no talking— he’s not really sure if the girl can talk, so he opens the door. Sally is sitting on the floor, papers scattered everywhere with crayons of all colours next to them. There’s some stuffed animals too.

She looks at him. He sits down, watching as she goes back to drawing her pictures.

“I got the drawing you gave me,” he starts, “I really like how you drew my.. well, everything. You’re quite good.” He.. he doesn’t know why he is complimenting her, he would be caught dead rather than give praise to another person. But, she was, she is different some how. Smaller? Younger? Innocent? He doesn’t know. He swallows hard in his throat.

He looks at the other drawings, there’s some of animals— but there’s another of a messily done mansion, and a couple stick figures, one he can pick out is him, of all people once again in the drawing. “Didn’t see you this morning, get bored of following me?” He teases, but it’s light hearted, he doesn’t except an answer but—

“It was loud.” She says quietly, and he’s taken back by how quiet her voice is— how rough it sounds like she’s been screaming for hours at a time and lost it on the way. He looks at her, “downstairs?” He asks, “it was loud, downstairs?”

She doesn’t answer, instead just shrugging before scribbling on paper.

“Well, Sal.” He starts, ignoring the quick look she gives him at the name, “If you don’t want to hang around those jackasses downstairs, my rooms always open. I have some cool shit in there, too.” He says, “I can teach you on how to throw a knife or some shit.” Jeff shrugs, but she smiles at the words.

He doesn’t know why he feels proud because of that.

#creepypasta fanfic #jeff the killer #sally williams #eyeless jack #clockwork creepypasta #clockwork #slenderverse #slender proxy #found family #ticci toby #creepypasta fandom #fanfic #slenderman #lazari swann #parkersfanfic

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 1 year

Note

Can I request a Shane and Molly holiday sickfic where they’re trying to celebrate but then they both get sick?

Words: 1367

Title: We'll Share A Cup Of Kindness Yet

Hey hi hello anon and thanks for the request. This suited my current, continued need for small drabble prompts perfectly, and as soon as I read this cute post by @sickromancer, I immediately thought of my favorite medical couple and this prompt, and here we are. Glad I could get this out before the end of the official holiday season. Sorry if you guys are sick of Christmas stuff. That was the holiday that worked best with my vision for this. This may not quite be what you asked for in the prompt, but I think it speaks to the intention anyway. I wrote this in like an hour and it’s barely proofread, so forgive any errors, and also forgive the ending since I couldn’t figure out where to stop it. It is also so sappy and sickly sweet, but that’s all I ever want to write for Shmolly. So warning for that I guess lol.

This house party was standing room only, so everyone was forced into a perpetual state of milling around, snacking and small talking. Events like this were Molly’s worst nightmare, and it was so full here that there was no hope of finding a corner in which to hide even for a little bit. To make matters worse, Molly was also sick. It had been coming on for a few days, but only those who knew her best had been able to tell until recently. It had progressed to being visible to the rest of the world less than eight hours ago, and the timing of this fancy Christmas party couldn’t be worse in that regard.

Sarah, Molly’s best work friend, lingered near the dark-haired woman, ready to swoop in and intervene if Molly started to get that uncomfortable, panicky look her friend knew all too well. Sarah was only here because Molly had asked her to be, and Molly was only here because Shane had asked her to be. However, since Shane was busy playing the role of ‘charismatic up-and-coming young doctor’ elsewhere in the house, someone had to keep an eye on Molly and keep her from going crazy. Molly was fine for now, though, chatting with the hostess about books. In fact Sarah wished someone would swoop in and save her instead. With nothing better to do, she listened idly to Molly’s conversation, nibbling the food from her tiny plate.

“I’ve actually been on a classics kick lately, reading and rereading those books from those ‘Books You Need to Read Before You Die’ lists. I just read The Alchemist for the first time and found it really interesting,” Molly was saying happily, though Sarah heard her audibly sniffling. “I really loved– sorry, just a moment…” Molly turned away awkwardly, dabbing at her nose and giving a half-hearted blow in an attempt to do damage control while doing her best not to spoil her makeup. “Sorry, I think I’m coming down with something. Me and the rest of the world, right? Just in time for Christmas.”

The hostess laughed merrily. “Jim just got over a cold a day or two ago too. It’s that time of year unfortunately, and health care workers take the brunt of it. But back to the classics, I also loved the Alchemist. Such a simple story, yet he managed to impart so much depth and meaning.”

Sarah sighed, tuning out again. Molly was clearly settling in for a long chat, rhinovirus and all. Good for her. It was dull to listen to people talk about books you’ve never read, however. By now her plate was empty, so Sarah began to maneuver her way back to the kitchen for something else to snack on, and maybe some punch.

In the kitchen, she ran into none other than Shane, almost literally. He was standing in the doorway, talking loudly to some other young doctors, all of them holding cocktails. Shane of course had the floor, and Sarah didn’t have time to catch what he was talking about before he paused suddenly, then lurched forward into a muffled sneeze, crushed into the napkin he was holding. He sprang up as the others chuckled, scrubbing at his nose.

“... and I have a fucking cold,” he groaned, clearly playing up his misery for the laughs. Sarah couldn’t help but laugh too, slipping past them on her way to the punch bowl. So that’s where Molly had caught her cold. Or had it been the other way around? That was one of the few benefits of being single, Sarah thought to herself as she loaded up another tiny plate. At least there wasn’t anyone to swap germs with constantly.

~~~

The party had ended, they had dropped Sarah off at her apartment, and Shane and Molly had made their way back to the condo. Shane had gone immediately to the bedroom to remove his tie and stiff shirt and shoes. He expected Molly to be right behind him, but when he had fully changed into pajamas and she still hadn’t joined him, he went in search of her.

His lovely wife hadn’t made it out of the living room and was instead sitting on the arm of the couch, staring at the Christmas tree, the twinkling lights illuminating the otherwise dark room, sparkling and shimmering off of everything, especially her glittery red dress. It was a breathtaking sight, and Shane had to be a part of it. He padded to her side and looped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into his embrace willingly, though she didn’t take her eyes off the tree.

“Whatcha thinkin’, love?” he murmured, his lips brushing her hair.

“I’m thinking that I’m actually starting to like holidays again thanks to you,” she said, her voice almost as hoarse and gravelly as his. She turned to look at him with a tired-eyed smile, the dim light somehow accenting her red, chapped nose, which also matched what he had seen in the mirror. “I’m thinking I love string lights. We should put them up year round. And I’m thinking I really, really hate colds.”

How could she say so much in so few words? Shane could only marvel at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. He settled for a soft chuckle, but the sound caught in his throat and became a cough instead, which somehow covered both bases nicely. “Yes to the year round string lights. And I’m sorry I gave you my cold.” In a fluid motion, he pulled her onto his lap and took her place on the couch arm, wrapping his arms around her securely. “And I’m honored that I get to spend the rest of my life helping you like holidays again. It’s a responsibility I will never take for granted.”

The last part was whispered into her ear as she nuzzled her cheek against his. They remained just like that for a long time, their breathing in sync, letting the peace of the moment wash over them.

However, eventually their shared cold demanded attention once more. Shane freed one of his arms to dig in his pocket for a tissue, pressing it to his nose just in time to stifle a sneezing fit, taking great care to avoid sneezing directly on the woman in his lap.

“Bless you, hon,” Molly murmured once he was finished, kissing his cheek.

“Thanks,” he sniffled, scrubbing the back of his hand under his nose since the tissue was now useless. “I hope we didn’t pass this along to anyone at the party.”

“I hope so too,” Molly sighed. “It just figures. This is the first time I’ve gone to a Christmas party in years, and I have a cold, which I probably ended up giving to the hospital CFO’s wife.”

“If you did it won’t set in for a few days, meaning she won’t be sick for Christmas. Unlike us.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of which… Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas.” They shared a tender kiss.

When they broke apart, Molly was smiling mischievously. “Whatever Christmas present you got me better be pretty damn good to make up for this awful gift you already gave me,”

“First of all, I always get you amazing presents. So yes, your Christmas present is pretty damn good. But secondly, you knew I was getting sick a few days ago and you still kept kissing me like you always do. I think that means the blame falls totally on you. And this gift isn’t all bad anyway. We get to cancel all the plans we want to for the next few days and stay home in our pajamas. Sounds pretty good to me.”

“You know what… you make a good point.” Molly dug out her own tissue just then, wiping and blowing her nose thoroughly. “I miss being able to breathe through my nose, though.”

“Me too. Maybe Christmas hot chocolate will help.”

“Hot chocolate always helps. And I can’t think of a better way to spend the midnight between Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. It's very Auld Lang Syne.”

“All for you, my dear,” Shane murmured, brushing his lips over her ear once more.

#my ocs #shmolly ocs #answered asks #prompt fill #sickfic #tooth rotting fluff #holiday sickfic #idk why I can't do long form right now but whatever #I'll keep writing drabbles as long as I have prompts for them #kinda love how this came out especially with how little time it took #but then again I always love shmolly stuff #ask box story

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hunkjodiefoster · 8 months

Text

Chapter 6: Next To Me

Characters: Melanie Cavill, Alexandra Cavill, Andre Layton, Bess Till, Ruth Wardell, Josie Wellstead, Bennett Knox

Warnings: mentions of suicide, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, just sadness and comfort plus mel being with her bby🥺, domestic fluff, melanie can cook! 🍳

The Cavill’s woke up rather well, the next morning very pleasantly to the golden sunlight coming from behind the curtain of the small window in the bunk, Melanie had been already awake for around 30 minutes sitting at her desk with a small lamp that was dim reading some papers.

Alex squinted her eyes closed trying to mostly block out as much light as possible after literally just waking up, she pulled off the cover to move her legs over the railing making the least amount of sound possible but she made a grunt.

Melanie looked over her shoulder from the soft noise.

“Oh hey hon you’re awake, how did you sleep?”

“I could ask the same thing, fine...actually it has definitely been a good while since I’ve slept like a baby, damn good sleep since I was a baby probably” she laughed. Mel sat watching her laugh, resting her fist under her cheekbone, she chuckled back at the answer smiling, the last time she had seen Alex laugh was 2 months- hell 3 months ago now that she thought about it, all she knew was that it felt fulfilling to see that, like a part of the sun was brought back into her heart.

“I had a refreshing sleep but yes, good, that’s good”

They stayed silent for a few seconds. Alex was about to bring up what she wanted to ask last night because she felt now was an okay time to..she thought so

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, go for it”

“What went down out there?”

Mel’s subtle smile disappeared as images flashed back through her mind of her traveling through the white.

“.......After...after he passed me up, I had a moment, a moment of reflection of everything that happened, you’ve seen how I am like when those events happen Allie-... I went back to the station, ate the last couple of rats because I truly had given up, I wrote what I thought was my last words...gathered up the data, I was going to run out of power and I did, but then I took one last look at the data, the power finally cut”

Alex’s eye’s widened.

“so I said ‘fuck it and went off and went and kneeled out there one more time, I stayed a some few hours, I thought back to us again and again...and that little thing gave me that spark of hope that I would see you again, whenever it would be here or in the afterlife I got a morsel of it back, and what do you know…..I felt that you came back for me and- and you did, going back to the station again, I grabbed some chunks of torn piping from the station that I brought with me, attached some to my knees and boots and I ran as fast as I could, the storm made it basically impossible to hitch onto its side but I did, my suit ran out of juice so I panicked and I was hanging off and the wind made one of the pipes flew off and got right in me”

Melanie’s eyes were welling up again “Jesus christ mom, god” Alex sat down in one of the chairs in complete shock and disturbed from what her mother was telling her about her experience of dying twice now.

“…then part of the punctured places got a bit too fragile and another got to me too, including my helmet, the cold seeped in, it felt like all of my limbs were freezing, my arms, legs, fingers, my face couldn’t move so I felt for the panel on the siding and then god seemed to like me that day so he gave me the benefit of the doubt, I got in, I felt limp and it felt like I fucking passed out but also died but I did…..and here I am…….I hope that answers your question”

Melanie turned back to her papers to read them, she wiped her tear with the sleeve of her jean jacket. Alex did the same, she felt like she was punched in the face with words folding her hands. Melanie sat in silence not sure what to say to her knowing what she said definitely hurt her doing the deed. She put down her pencil and turned to her.

***

“I’m sorry for telling you all of that but you asked a question so I answered it, I’m sorry I was a bit harsh too…… Can I make you breakfast?...to make this better the best I can? What would you like me to make you? Anything you want”

Alex did and did not want to forget the story she told, for now, she was going to keep it in the back of her mind, right now she needs to be more optimistic so she shook it out of her head, she felt even worse for her mom so she got up, walked to her and gave her yet another heart-filled hug. Melanie did what was the only option for what she felt exploding inside to let out a round of pain again.

“I can’t even imagine what that was like for you, no matter how much of a horrible person you think you are, you shouldn’t have felt that...nobody should...okay maybe except for one individual”

She reached down and put her hand on her cheek to calm her since Allie kinda figured out what calms her and lets her know it’s okay.

“I’m far from good, but still you...still you want me?”

“Yes, without a doubt, you may have left me in Chicago, but that was to save everyone, to save us, I forgive you mom, you don’t have to say you’re sorry anymore, to anyone. We only have each other in this world if you really think about it”

Mel thought she was having deja vu “Thank you for taking a chance on me, you know I didn’t mean to hurt you on purpose right? I couldn’t see and I had no recollection of what was going on...I thought I was back on Big Alice and I thought he was you and he was trying to turn me around at the station but in his way, Allie he wasn’t even there-”

“He’s not going to talk to you no more, It’s fine, I can’t blame you if I wanted to. What do we even have to eat for breakfast? I haven’t checked in the cabinets beside the crappy MRE’s” They both got up from where they were at and headed to the kitchen that was afoot away because the room was so small.

Alex looked through some of the options, She didn’t Care for most of them so she decided on pancakes, Mel asked if she wanted anything on them like butter, bananas, strawberries, she said yes to the strawberries and so Mel turned on the mini stove, pulled out a pan and the ingredients and started making what she requested.

***

Alex was really into her meal “These are really good ma!”

“Well I’m glad honey” Mel smiled, she was eating a part of a leftover casserole from the fridge that was god knows how old but it still tasted good so it should be fine she thought. She got up and put her jacket back on and put her hair in a bun,

“Who else is in the engine besides Layton?” Alex stopped eating and looked up

“Bess, Josie, Ben, yeah that’s everyone who’s on here” Melanie gulped when she said “Josie”

“You mean ‘Josie’ as in Josie the tallie?”

“Yep”

“Fuck”

“What’s wrong?” Mel is at a loss for words.

“I don’t want to talk about it, it’s a conversation for me and the grown-ups alright”

Alex rolled her eyes “Alright before you go right through the door and all hell breaks loose are you sure you got enough rest? I don’t think you did” Melanie now looked at Allie and noticed that there was nothing on her plate “wow you really scarfed that down, yeah I got 9 hours I’ll be fine”

“Are those your famous last words?! I was hungry” Alex laughed “Still you need more”

“Fine, what do you want me to do, go to bed?”

“Exactly, now go on I be there in a second” Melanie took off her jacket. set it on the chair and popped into bed, along with Alex. ¨Have a good sleep mom, sweet dreams¨

¨You too hon¨

¨What did I do to deserve her¨ Mel thought, and they were both left with their dreams.

#melanie cavill #snowpiercer #snowpiercer netflix #jennifer connelly #snowpiercer tv #alexandra cavill #ruth wardell #andre layton #joseph wilford #Spotify

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bougiebutchbitch · 2 years

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I know the Sak/ura stuff happened hours ago, but I just happened to see it, and I have a couple Thoughts (along the same lines as you & the other anon were talking about - i'm not trying to convince you of my opinions or anything, i'm just casting them out into the world)

When I was first watching the original Naruto series, I honestly thought she was pretty annoying - but in fairness, I thought they ALL were annoying. And that's okay! Because they're all like 13 during that series, and who isn't annoying at that age?? I know I was for sure

But I think the reason I love her is mostly from what she could have been. And I think the scene from the chunin exams where she cuts her hair could've been the perfect turning point, where she could have realized that while she loves sas/uke, she's not IN love with him (no hate to people who ship them, I just don't) and could have moved on to being her own person

And I loved that she was at least slightly more mature during shippuden (and had the first akatsuki kill!!), but it seemed like every time sas/uke was mentioned, she almost reverted back to how she was at 13, and I think that's unfortunate

And obviously everything ends up coming down to the writing and the story, I just think that it's unfortunate how it ended because she seemed to have so much potential, but every time the story provided the perfect opportunity for her to fulfill it, she didn't and I just think it's unfortunate

Now obviously, she's not perfect, and did some kinda fucked up things (the way she treated nar/uto during the academy & while they were genin, and even during parts of shippuden, among other things), but I feel like that honestly gives her more potential or possibility for growth that she never gets

because that's the thing, people aren't perfect, good people do bad things sometimes, and bad people can do good things. Nothing is ever truly black and white

Anyways, I didnt mean for this ask to be so long, sorry about that

Nah that's super valid!

She had so much narrative potential as a character. Sadly, it felt like she was always made to play second fiddle to Naru/to and Sas/uke - whether she was fulfilling the in-universe acknowledged role of 'girl specifically put on a team to make boys fight over her, so the boys can become stronger', or only getting one badass boss fight against Sas/ori, while Nar/uto and Sas/uke have SO MANY AMAZING FIGHTS.

But y'know what? This could've been a REALLY INTERESTING THING TO EXPLORE.

Obviously, it's a bit cringe that so many of the 'main' women in Naru/to are medics (Sak/ura, Shi/zune, Tsu/nade, and In/o, I believe...). There comes a point where it's just feeding into the 'healing and nurturing support-class women' stereotype, even if medics are badass and they can Punch Stuff HardTM.

But if Kishi/moto had truly committed to giving Sakura more screentime and delved deep into what it's like to be a battlefield medic, the trauma of not being able to save everyone, and how she formed her own identity separate to the boys that wasn't centred around fighting... I would LAP THAT SHIT UP.

I mean, sure, she starts a therapy centre in Bor/uto... but I want more on-screen development!

I want her to slowly realise her own self-worth, and stop comparing herself to her two literal god-level teammates!

I want her to make a name for herself among civilians! Of Team 7, she's the only one born to civilian parents, and that's a link I'd love to see explored.

Of course, that's not possible, because Nar/uto is a shonen manga and the focus is always going to be on Wham Bam Big Fight Scene. Sak/ura could've had an incredible arc, but she's hampered both by the writer and the genre. I understand, but I think there were ways that the manga could've kept its shonen feel without doing her character such disservice.

Give me a Sak/ura arc where tensions between civilians and shinobi in the village are rising, and Nar/uto, Sas/uke and Kak/ashi are blind to the problem, because they're all so entrenched in the shinobi world. Give me a Sak/ura arc where she gains her own super badass technique and has her own boss villain to fight. Give me a Sak/ura arc where - maybe even after having Sar/ada! - she starts to question her relationship to Sas/uke and how she acts around him, and starts demanding more respect!

Obligatory note that I haven't watched much of Bor/uto so maybe Sak/ura and Sas/uke have a vaguely healthy relationship now and they've worked out all their issues... idk slkdfjhgksjdg

But just - yeah. She deserved better. As a result, I can understand why people disliked her in the anime, and loved her - for all the reasons you said.

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kalpasio · 2 years

Text

Quikflip

In Which Kalpas Starts A Fight, And You Are Alone

A Kalpas x reader fic crossposted on my ao3

I just want to warn that this chapter has the death of a major character, as well as some other very depressing themes. It's Honkai. If you've read anything from the Elysian Realm, you have already seen this.

Chapter 11 below!

A few days later, Vill-V sent you a message asking you to come back for another scan. Because your sim had originally come from Kalpas’ scan, there was some data that overlapped with your own and needed to be replaced. With how much work you had to do, you couldn’t just get up and go, so you let her know you’d take a visit to have the scan done when you got a break.

A couple of hours and turns later, you were back in the Elysian Realm, chatting with yourself while Vill-V got things set up. Talking to your reflection was one thing but talking to your sim felt way too familiar and uncomfortable all at once. The scan took less than a minute this time, but just as you were about to leave, Kalpas came in looking for you.

Actually…Kalpas’ sim came in looking for yours; apparently when there were only a handful of other people to talk to, the both of you got along swimmingly. Vill-V had run off, very excited out of nowhere, so it was just you, yourself, and sim-Kalpas. At least for a minute or two. When you went to leave, you ran into Kalpas again. He didn’t seem to notice, though, as he pushed you partway behind himself and glared at his sim.

You leaned around him to give a very confused look to your sim who just shrugged, also unsure. The two flame chasers were reaching dangerous temperatures when the one next to you finally spoke.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” he spat and both you and your sim’s eyes widened in shock. Sim-Kalpas chuckled but it only lasted a second before he was tackled by himself. Neither one could get the upper hand as they rolled around, knocking over half of Vill-V’s workshop while you just tried to stay out of the way. Sakura and Elysia ran to the door, and you looked to them wondering what the hell was going on.

“Hmmm, Vill-V has a lock on her shop, right?” Elysia wondered out loud, though the mischievous smile she wore wasn’t very comforting. “He’ll wear himself out eventually,” She started walking away and Sakura quickly grabbed her hand. Looking at the literal firestorm brewing in the shop, you doubted the two would calm down before they burned the realm to the ground.

“Elysia.” Sakura scolded, causing the other girl to give an overdramatic, drawn-out sigh.

“Fiiiine,” she smiled, “only because you’re so cute.” She stepped into the room and sang, “Kaaaaalpas.” obviously, this didn’t get a response. Holding her hands up in a shrug she said, “I tried my best,” with her eyes closed as though lamenting her lost battle. When she peaked an eye open, she saw Sakura’s glare and gave up the act.

“Ok, ok. Kalpas. I need you to stop trying to kill yourself!” Elysia trying to be serious, and scolding would have been funny under different circumstances. “Hmm, maybe it was the wording,” she mumbled, and Sakura sent another look.

“Kalpas! If you stop fighting, I’ll go set up a trial for you~ Plenty of things to kill there!” Now it sounded as though she were trying to coax a dog somewhere with a treat; but apparently it worked. One of the vaguely Kalpas-looking flames stopped for half a second and that was long enough for the other to punch him and knock his opponent out.

Apart from the sound of Kalpas panting, the room was now silent, a drastic change from the –literally—roaring flames from a second ago.

“Should I go set up that trial?” Elysia smiled like nothing had happened and skipped out of the room.

“Why were you trying to fight yourself?” Sakura sounded like a disappointed mother, and you were glad she voiced the question that was overwhelming your mind.

“I won’t let him hurt her,” he growled, and you figured this was not-sim Kalpas, though that did little to shed light on the situation.

“You won’t let your sim hurt her sim?” Sakura asked, just as confused.

Kalpas scoffed, “Is that what I said?” He wasn’t going to give a clear explanation anytime soon, you realized.

“I…need to get back to work,” you nodded to the three left in the room and ducked out trying to avoid eye contact.

You continued going to the Elysian realm for scans every few weeks without too much trouble. Conversations with your sim became more regular, and eventually, it came out that your sim and Kalpas’ were ‘not-dating’ as she put it. He refused to say they were dating, but they spent more time together than with the others and kissed when the others weren’t looking. It made you both delighted and distraught to hear about the two of them.

On the one hand, you were happy that your sim—the version of you that would live on—was with someone you cared so much about. She got to work with Vill-V in what was probably the best workshop on base, and since the sims didn’t go out on missions, she got to spend time with Sakura far more often than you did.

On the other hand, “I can’t believe my sim has it so much better than me!” You were stuck in your workshop, absolutely drowning in the number of requests you’d received. Dr. Mei herself had given projects to all the mechanics and now your days—and nights—were filled with nothing but work. Rarely you would get to see Sage when you two collaborated on a project, as you were now, but you hadn’t seen Sakura or Kalpas or any other MOTH you knew in over a month.

The doors to your shop stayed locked so you could focus without being interrupted by angry agents who came down just to yell at you. Any sort of human interaction was appreciated at this point, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about spending time with Kalpas.

“I mean, your sim’s gonna be stuck in those same few rooms with only a few people for who knows how long.” Sage’s attempt at comforting fell flat and you sent them a glare that they didn’t see, too focused on their work.

“It still sucks,” you mumbled, caught up in your own pity party. Sage just laughed.

“Everything sucks! It’s the end of the world.”

“Fair point.”

The room fell back into a comfortable silence as you both worked. When the alarms sounded, you both looked to each other in panic. Before either of you could worry about what was going on, you felt your consciousness slipping away and you fell to the floor.

There was no way for you to tell how much time had passed, but when you woke, the alarms had stopped and there was an urgent message flashing on your screen. You looked over to Sage and found them waking up with a groan. After checking on them, you went to the computer, if only to stop the flashing that was aggravating your new headache.

“We’re to report to the twenty-first floor conference room,” you read out loud.

“What for? Sleeping on the job?” Sage sounded about ready to kill someone and you shared the sentiment.

“Just says everyone should report there. That’s it.”

The two of you made your way there in silence, each of you nervous but neither wanting to let the other know. You were the fighter, you had to stay calm and focused to protect yourself and Sage if things went wrong. They were the older sibling; they were supposed to be steady and the voice of reason for you to rely on. Both of you realized this was bullshit, but you put up the strong act.

When you opened the door to the conference room, you saw Dr. Mei at the front talking quietly with Kevin. Scanning the room, you saw several of the Flame Chasers, though Vill-V, Aponia, and Sakura were missing. Surprisingly Kalpas was there as well, looking pissed off as usual. Jus as you leaned over to whisper to Sage, Dr. Mei spoke.

“I’m sorry to have called you all here so suddenly,” she waited for the whispering to die down before continuing. “There is some urgent news that everyone should be made aware of.” A long sigh, then, “Everyone in this room is all that is left of humanity.”

You immediately turned to Sage in disbelief and saw tears welling in their eyes. Being raised on base, all your family—which was just your dad—and friends were here; but for the last three cities to be destroyed…millions of people gone. It was a disastrous blow to morale that was already low and everyone in the room felt it.

Everyone left on Earth felt it.

“A few hours ago, some agents engaged with the Herrscher of Corruption, who we were holding here,” Dr. Mei spoke again. “They were…successful in killing the host of the Herrscher, but the Honkai energy itself was released. A handful of agents were infected before Hua was able to protect everyone’s minds. Unfortunately, the Herrscher entered our computer systems—something we were unaware could happen. It then…launched nuclear missiles and wiped out the three cities that held the remaining population.”

Dr. Mei waited and let everything sink it and you wished she hadn’t. Thinking about it just made things worse, and you knew right now no one had the time to mourn. The room should have been in an uproar right now as people started to panic but instead it was deadly silent, and you hated it.

“We will continue with project S.A.V.E. I know now things seem hopeless, but out of everyone on Earth, we were the ones to live on, and we must do all we can to survive and bring forth the future. We hold humanity’s hopes on our shoulders, and I know that we can prevail. Humanity will not fall!”

You expected someone to speak out against the plan, but everyone seemed to be in too much of a daze to protest. Slowly people left the room; you didn’t know if it was because they were going to work, or if they had given up. As the crowd thinned, you were able to get to Kalpas, who was standing off to the side. The instant your hand touched his wrist, his head snapped to you and his flames flared, but you didn’t move away.

“Where’s Sakura.” You sounded angry but that didn’t matter right now.

He didn’t respond.

“Kalpas,” you tried again. “Where is Sakura.”

“You’re the lead mechanic for Cocoon, correct?” Dr. Mei was next to you both now. Seeing you nod in response, she spoke again. “I’m afraid Sakura’s sister was the host for the twelfth Herrcsher, and Sakura herself died while trying to speak to her.”

The tears you had managed to hold back earlier were leaving your eyes before you even noticed. Faintly, you heard Dr. Mei say ‘I’m sorry’ but it didn’t register. Looking back to Kalpas, you found he hadn’t looked away from you, and the floodgates opened.

A moment later, there was a hand at the back of your head, and then your face was squished against his chest. There was definitely snot on his shirt now, but the almost burning heat of Kalpas was a comfort you wouldn’t trade for the world.

1900 words even I had the idea of Kalpas fighting his sim when I started this chapter and thought it'd be like "oh he fights his sim and it comes out that he's scared he will hurt you and you guys talk about how your sims are dating and then you start dating" and it was gonna be funny and happy. And then apparently the angst kicked in and I decided to make everything just. really sad. I'm not upset with how this turned out, I'm kinda just surprised, this was unintentional.

#kalpas x reader #honkai x reader #tamalethebear #azaryawrites

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bittergloss · 2 years

Text

#all of us are dead #being fed so well rn #literally a couple of hours ago they were down to punches and now she's like this lmaooooooooo #kdrama #screencap

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ch4nb4ng · 3 years

Text

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

#lee minho #minho #leeknow #stray kids #lino #lee minho smut #skz smut #leeknow scenario #stray kids smut #stray kids scenario #dom leeknow #dom lee minho #dom lino #lino smut #ch4nb4ng

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hotwings0203 · 3 years

Note

Wat if katsuki actually had a s/o that loved Key word LOVED him but.....

Then when he started getting to aggressive and starts hitting her she suddenly stops all the love and affection. And that makes katsuki so confused and angry bc he like 'wtf why did they stop huggin and kissin me when I get home from my matches'. Then his darling becomes very depressed is and cooped up in her room all the time. So when katsuki friends come over they wonder where y/n is.

Tw:abuse, implied dubcon, depression

“Babe, you’re home!” You rush over to the door when you head it unlocking, arms outstretched already or embrace his wounds.

But when the door swings open you’re met with a scowling Bakugo who shoves you aside so hard you fall to the floor.

He grumbles and throws his bags down, kicking mud off his shoes onto the carpet as he glares at you.

“This place is a pigsty. Why the fuck didn’t you clean?”

You laugh nervously and raise an eyebrow. “Uhh, ‘cause I was out all day too? I just got home an hour ago and I was tired. What’s with you? Why’re you in such a bad mood?”

Katsuki’s eyes widen until they’re the size of dinner plates. His nostrils flare and his fists resume the same position as they do in the ring.

“You talkin’ back to me now?”

“What? No, you literally just asked-“

Crack.

The sound of him backhanding your cheek reverberates around the apartment, and you hold your face in shock.

It’s not so much the pain of him striking you that hurts, it’s the fact that this has been happening for a while now that aches the most. Nothing you do-no smiles, no amount of love you showed him in, no sobs or pleads-sways him.

You love him, it’s true.

But it’s hard to love him when he looks at you like that.

“Get the fuck up. And clean all this shit up, the next time I come home to this filth I’ll make the clean the floors with your tongue.”

He grabs you by your hair and throws you face-first onto the tile area, taking his own sweet time to turn around and walk to your shared room.

After you clean for hours until the place is spotless, you retreat to bed.

He’s on his phone typing away with a slight crease in his eyebrows, but he looks up at you as you walk in.

“Hey. You done?” He has the audacity to ask in a gentle voice.

“Mmhm.”

You don’t look at him as you begin changing your clothes in the restroom and close the door behind you.

His frown deepens at that. You’ve never shied away from being vulnerable and naked with him.

To test his doubt, when you walk back into the room with your head still down, he leans forward as you sit down on the mattress, your back turned to him.

You shut off the lights in silence as he reaches a hand out and curls it around your shoulders.

“C’mere, ‘wanna feel you.” He mumbles in his raspy sleepy voice.

But to his utter confusion, you gently brush his hand off and continue your journey to tuck yourself in bed.

With your back still facing him.

“I’m tired Katsuki. Not in the mood.”

His hand is still suspended in midair, his facial features still frozen in his initial shock as he’s left in a pitch black room which is suddenly overcome with a freezing cold creeping up his spine.

He’s too wounded, too shocked and shot from his ego to be irate.

You’ve never said no to cuddling at night. Never. So what was wrong now?

You were taking his anger so well for a while, what the hell was the matter with you?

But he doesn’t touch you again that night. He barely sleeps a wink to your usually comforting sound of soft snores and little mumbles in your sleep talk.

In the morning his lack of sleep gets the betterment of his temper, and he lashes out of you again in the shower.

You’re washing your hair when you feel a cool breeze against your bare body. You open your eyes and see Katsuki standing in front of you outside the glass door to your shower.

You feign an eye roll and merely grab the handle trying to close it shut.

He doesnt even let it budge. He just snarls down at your intruding hand and yanks the door back even further, pulling you along with the force.

You yelp and slip on the floor, falling unceremoniously at his feet.

The look on his face is frankly terrifying, much worse than yesterday’s. Bakugo slowly steps in along with your quickly reversing body and closes the door behind him, trapping you inside with him.

“Why’d you try to close it on me.”

It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Then get up and touch me.”

He’s towering over your cornered form, his fists dangerously swinging next to your head.

Your limbs don’t move though. Your heart thuds slowly, your love ebbing away from him with its slow rhythm.

You already know how this is going to turn out, but you try anyways.

“Please Bakugo, I’m really not in the mood right now.”

“Oh, so it’s Bakugo now, huh?”

Your body disassociates so you don’t feel it as much, but unfortunately your hands still flinch above your head in instinct.

“If you’re-thud-sorry, then you’ll fucking-crack-touch me you-smack-ungrateful bitch.”

Your cries are loud, but not loud enough to drown his roaring out, not enough to mute the sound of his hands cracking above your shaking body.

He leaves the shower unfulfilled in his heart and in his dick.

His mind is in shambles.

This is the longest you’ve wanted space from him, he could understand an hour but half a day?

He has a rude awakening when “half a day” becomes a couple more days, then a week, and then it’s half a month since you’ve willingly kissed his battle scars and loved him with your whole being.

He says willingly because otherwise you eat his hits up like you’re just another fighter in the ring when he gets angry at your apathy. The only restraining factor that differentiates you and the men he puts in coffins is his desperation for you to come back.

To no avail though. If you’re not keeling over on the ground or pinned underneath him and molding your anatomy to the shape of his fists, then you’re still as a corpse on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing you were anywhere else but here.

Bakugo doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to feel.

Rage is consumed by paranoia, paranoia is swallowed whole by depression, depression is swept away by panicked desperation.

His hair starts falling out, his punches grow weaker and he comes home with more and more bruises every day to match the ones littering across your body.

One might wonder whose the real fighter-him or you.

And so one day when he can’t stand it anymore, can’t stand the silence and tension that’s so palpable you could taste the iron in the air, he invited his friends over.

He need the distractions. He needs happiness, a word that doesn’t seem worthy of his pathetic being.

He’s more pathetic than your unmoving body.

“Heyyy man!” Sero and Denki exclaim in obnoxious unison and throw their arms around Bakugo’s shoulders. All three of them barrel through his half-opened doorway and practically topple him over.

The air of excitement is so foreign to him, but oh so welcoming.

“Hey,” he grunts back awkwardly.

“You’ve never really invited us over without Y/N dragging you by the ear for it. How is she by the way? Haven’t heard of her in a while.” Kirishima nudges his shoulder.

But before he can open his mouth Denki cuts in. “You knock her up yet? You sly bastard, no wonder you’re hiding her from us. The gigs over Y/N, show us that beautiful belly!” He cups his hands around his mouth and the quip slashes through the air and infests Katsuki’s heart. It’s a mockery, a cruel reminder of what he cannot have.

When their friend doesn’t answer and merely walks off, the boys behind him awkwardly look at each other.

Usually he’d explode at them or at least chase them around the room.

And usually you would come out to greet them.

Katsuki was wrong.

You weren’t different from him anymore.

Because when he accepts that not even his friends can release his stone cold heart from its catatonic confines, he’s never felt more in sync with you than he has now.

#mha #bnha #mha angst #bnha angst #bakugo angst #katsuki angst #bakugo x you #yandere bakugo x reader #tw:abuse #tw: implied noncon #bully bakugo #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere bakugou

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lukehemmiings · 2 years

Text

* Quarantine, Calum Hood

( 2,6k words, pretty smutty and unedited work )

Quarantine, no one knew what to do. After Calum and I moved in together a year ago, we were pretty much busy with work. I needed to study for work, since I was a teacher and gave a lot of online classes and Calum and the boys were hanging with their fourth Album CALM. We had strict plans, as well as during the lockdown. It was another stressful day, when I came home from grocery shopping. The stores full with people and everyone was just rude and thankfully Crystal and I needed stuff from the store, so she drove with me.

"Calum, I'm back!" I yelled through the house, when Duke jumped from the couch and ran up to me, barking happily and jumping around my leg. I laughed, going to the kitchen and putting the bags on the table, where Calum and I usually had breakfast or ate dinner. Heavy steps from downstairs were audible, when Calum jogged downstairs and smiled softly. I asked him to clean the dishes, so when I turned around, I saw the dirty dishes and sigh.

"Calum," I started, but he broke me off. "Y/n, I know. I forgot it, I'll do it now, okay?" he kissed my cheek and turned to the dishes. I felt mad for some reason and when I tend to get mad, I usually stop interacting with people, so that's what I did. I put the groceries in their place and went into the bedroom, where I got undressed and grab a pair of Calum's shirts, which was long enough so I just wore that.

Going downstairs with a book in my hand, I ignored Calum, who sat next to me and wrapped his arms around me. "Talk to me, love." he mumbles, kissing my jaw. "Hi." I reply and he sighs. "Babe, you know what I mean. I know you're mad." the bassist begged, but I only shrugged. "Don't you think that I have every right to be mad, Calum?" I asked, making him cock his eyebrows up. "What? No. It was just a work of ten minutes and,"

"You don't get it, Calum! I'm the one who's constantly cleaning this house! You just excuse yourself for meetings, interviews or after dinners I would like to ask you, how your day ways, but Mr. Hood goes downstairs, for solid three hours, plays his bass and comes back, when I'm in my office, teaching!" I snap and put the book away, making him groan.

"Y/n, again?" he snarls, getting up as well. "Yes, Calum. Again. Because do you know how horrible I feel?" I yelled and punched against his chest, which made him roll with his brown eyes. "You feel horrible? Y/n, I don't know if you noticed but the world doesn't spin around you!" he yells and I literally stumbled back. "You... you know what I mean."

"So you mean I'm selfish?" I stiffened a bitter laugh, making him whine. "Yes... what? No! I'm just as exhausted as you are!" he snaps and I roll with my eyes. "Yeah, because everything spins around Calum Hood right?" I hiss and tried to leave the room. I wanted to go to the kitchen, at least I could calm myself down with cooking.

"Oh, no. You aren't getting out of this, y/n!" with that, Calum picks me up, his arms wrapped around my body, causing my throat to let a yelp. "Calum, let me fucking down!" I snap and punch against his back. Calum's arms were around my thighs, while the shirt riddled up and I was pretty sure he saw my black lace panties.

"You wanted my attention? There you get it, brat." with that he threw me on the bed and pulled his shirt off. "Calum," I tried to say at least something, because I needed a civil discussion about this, but Mr. Hood had other plans, he grabbed the hem of my - technically his - shirt and pulled it over my body, exposing my half naked state.

"You're being such a bitch lately, do you know that, y/n?" his lips spread sloppy kisses on my neck and I closed my eyes. "Calum, we need to- fuck." I felt his teeth digging into my skin, making me moan and I knew he was grinning. Cocky bastard. "I should punish you, shouldn't I? For acting like a brat for the last couple months." his hands were cold on my warm skin, slowly touching the back lace of my bra. "Up." I obeyed, letting him unclasp my bra and throw it across our bedroom.

"But don't worry, kitten. I'll put you back in your place." his devilish grin made me feel somewhat more aroused. My heart was beating against my ears and I whine. "Calum," again, he cut me off. "Shut up, I'm trying to give you what you want." he growls and I grasp his wrist. "Calum, all I'm trying to get from you is not just attention!" I let out a frustrated cry, feeling my sight getting blurry. "I'm trying to get you to love me! Talk to me, clean this house with me, take walks with me!" I sobbed and Calum's face expressions soften down.

"Believe me, I get it: you're upset and mad, that this pandemic is really taking all the chances of having real band meetings and the writing process is hard, but please, please don't let me out. Calum, my god, I'm your girlfriend." feeling his tanned and muscular arms around me, I wanted nothing but cry.

"Why didn't you told me that you felt that way, baby? I would've done something against it." he whispers and I scoot only closer to him, cuddling onto his chest, looking at the ink prints. "We constantly fought." I replied and he sighed. "I'm so sorry, princess. You know how much I love you. And you're right, I am upset and frustrated and I sort of let it out on you, when we have sex or in general fights." his cheeks reddened and he cupped my cheeks.

"Can I make love you to you?" he whispers, his lips softly running across my jaw. "Y-yes, please." my quiet voice was hoarse from the yelling before, but Calum doesn't seem to mind. "God, I love you so much. Don't say it back, just take it, okay? I know how much you love me." he smile softly, pecking on my lips, before he runs his hand down my body, kneading my breasts in his large hands. I arched my back, knowing that he loves it when I do that, just because I love feeling his hands on my body.

My eyes flutter shut, Calum's lips slowly going over my neck, down to the gap between my breasts. "So, so pretty." he murmurs against my skin, leaving me utter shock, not in a bad way, I just never really slowed down with him. Calum really knew which buttons to push, to make me a little wreck for him. I bite my lower lip, chewing on it, which made Calum stop.

"I want to hear you, every little whimper. Please, let me hear you, baby." he mumbles, his lips reconnecting at the gap between my breasts. He took his time and he knew I was impatient, when I got in the mood, which I was. My hands were in Calum's curls, pulling on them, because I really needed him to go to the spot where I needed him the most.

"Please, Calum- I need you. I want you so bad." a loud moan escaped my throat and Calum pants slowly. "You want me to eat you out, don't you?" he rasps, softly sucking on my nipple, before he releases the one to give as much attention to the other one.

"I want you to do anything with me, C-Calum!" I whine, my toes curling into the blanket. "Ah, ah, I want to hear it from you, baby. What should I do to you, hmm?" his voice was shades deeper, as I bucked my hips against his. Calum groaned, looking up to me. "Touch me." not giving a fuck of the pathetic state I was in, I heard his chuckle. His hips still met mine, making me moan loudly.

"You like that? Want me to fuck you like that, princess?" his brown eyes were almost black and I loved it. He looked just like a sex god. I wasn't capable of responding, I was just under him, my eyes almost shut and my mouth open, at his prominent bugle in his boxershorts, while my boyfriend just asked me how I wanted. Oh, Calum was so good at this.

"Fucking hell, god- Calum, please! I want you to fuck me up. Use me, eat me out, everything! But please, for the love of god, stop the teasing!" when I cried that out, the bassist grabbed my wrist, pushing it down his tanned and muscular stomach. We both sat up, my hand on the waistband of his boxershorts, pulling on it, when I felt his bulge pressing against his stomach. I let the band slap against his stomach, causing Calum to groan.

"This is how you wanna play now, darling?" his hand cupped my chin, while I only looked as innocent as I could. "I didn't do anything to you." I smile innocently at him and start to hump him, through his boxershorts. "Sure you didn't, pretty girl." Calum tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, watching me cautiously. "God, I love you so much." he whispers, caressing my cheek. "I love you too, Calum." I whispered back.

I may felt sorry for him or I may needed him as much as he did, so I pulled his boxershorts down, letting his erection stand up. "Wanna fuck you up, so bad." he mumbles, in between the kisses and all the sucked up words, we shared. It was a passionate, yet soft and deep make out session. "Then do it, Calum. Fuck me up." the second I said that, I was flipped over to my stomach, feeling Calum's prominent bulge against my still clothed cunt.

"So wet and all fucking mine." he didn't even bothered taking my panties out. There was for sure a damp spot, caused by the one and only Calum Thomas Hood. His hands knew which placed he had to touch. Calum put my hair on the one side of my shoulders, just to kiss my exposed shoulder.

"Please,"

"Baby, you don't even know what you're asking for. The more you beg, the more I know you can't handle it." Calum rasps, making me whine in answer. Whatever I was begging for, I want it. I need it. "I don't care- fuck, I- I need you to touch me, Calum." I whimpered, making him chuckle. His lips spread hot and sloppy kisses on my back, as he pulled my panties to the sides, leaving them still on. The cold air blew against my soaking wet cunt, making Calum groan.

"I fucking feel how wet you are, baby." his grin was like a print on my back and I felt it. He rubs his tip against my slit and I whine, almost falling on my face, because he knew what to do to make me crazy.

"Look what you've done to me - look what you're cunt has done to me." Calum whimpers at the feeling. He always whimpered, before he fucked me like crazy. "Fuck no, get those off." his growl made me hum. He literally tears that lace panties from my skin, before he enters me, fully. I cry out in pleasure, clenching around his hard cock. A line of cuss words left our mouths and I felt him moving slow and deep.

"That cunt was made for me and fucking me only." not gonna lie, it was hot and it made me wetter, the more he praised me when we had sex. I lift myself up, leaning against Calum's chest, feeling him everywhere at once. His hands were on my breast, cupping them and playing with them roughly. I whined, my head resting against his shoulder.

The thing was, right in front our bed, was the wardrobe with a huge body mirror. Calum loved fucking in front of it. Not that I had something against it. I loved it as well. The way he praised us, whenever he looked at our picture made me feel special, because I know, that I'm the only person he's doing this.

"Wanna look at how good I'm fucking you, baby?" Calum's rough thrusts made me whimper, almost fall back on my face. One hand slides on my throat, but it doesn't stay there, he parts my lips apart softly, letting his pointer and middle finger into my mouth. "My pretty girl, look at you." Calum's deep snarl made me shiver. I hum, a loud - like loud moan escaped from me. His hand slowly traveled down, rubbing my clit with harsh movements.

"Calum, I'm- fuck, fuck!" I couldn't even finish my sentence, when I heard a deep groan. Our eyes fixed on each other's bodies, while Calum's fingers moved relentlessly against my clit, making me let out a high moan. The feeling of his hand on me and his cock in me, made me cry in pleasure and I knew what to expect. Despite the fact, that Calum and I hadn't sex for a long time. One hand was around his wrist, the other one was in his curls, pulling on it and letting his head fall back followed by many groans and begs not to stop.

"D-don't fucking dare to stop. Fuck me, you sound so good." he praises and I look into his eyes, through the mirror, ignoring the pain that rushes through me, since I'm holding back. "Stay with me, baby. I know." he whispers into my ear, kissing my jaw, but never stops looking into my eyes, over the mirror.

"Oh, fuck, C-Calum. Oh my God," I wasn't even able to talk, because Calum literally fucked me up. "Holy shit, baby. You take me so well." Calum's movements got sloppier and I whimpered. "P-please, faster. I'm so close." I beg, just ignoring how pathetic I sound. "C'mon, baby, make yourself cum on my cock." Calum sat on the mattress, so he slide out off of me, making me whimper. Facing him with my back, just to look at our mirror, I sat back on his cock, started bouncing immediately.

My eyes were on the picture, the mirror was reflecting, Calum looked at it too. "Cum for me, kitten. I want you to cum so badly on my hard cock. Milk it, fucking hell." he groans, gripping into my hips harshly. I relaxed, letting my orgasm wash me over and watching my legs shake next to Calum's thighs. Letting out loud cries and crying Calum's name in loop, I couldn't seem to calm down. I wanted this so bad.

"Oh, kitten- I'm gonna-"

His hand pinched my sides, as he shoots his warm cum into me. I groaned, letting a loud and high moan out. We both rode our highs out, as Calum pulled himself out and I got up, cuddling on his chest, listening to his fast heartbeat. Calum wrapped the blanket around our bodies, pulling me as close as possible.

"I'm glad the bed is still not broken, to be honest." I grin and turn to Calum, who smiles cheesily. "Just say it and I'll fuck you until this bed breaks." he teases, but pecks on my lips. "I love you and I'm sorry for letting you out." he whispers then and I smile softly, playing gently with his locks. "I love you too, Calum."

[ As you can see, I’m a Calum girl ]

#calum hood smut #calum 5sos #calum hood

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pagesfromthevoid · 2 years

Text

Leave Through the Lobby | p.p. | Finale

Andrew!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Language, so much love and fluff

Author’s Note: This is officially the first series I have finished like ever. I’m not only super excited but very proud of myself. Also incredibly thankful for all the interaction :^) let me know what you think!

Series Masterlist | Request Here

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Peter wasn’t supposed to fight crime today. He even told the precinct —well no, Spider-Man told the precinct that he wouldn’t be patrolling today. To expect to deal with anything on their own because he had his own “emergency.” Peter had prepared for this day for months now and he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere but in the lobby of his damn apartment.

But no. Oh no. The universe just really hated Peter Parker, honestly.

Because there he stood at the corner of 51st and 8th, watching the Gershwin Theatre go up in flames. And it wasn’t just a little fire; it was a proper arson-being-committed fire that couldn’t be ignored or wait for the fire department to get there. There had been several explosions, one right after the other, that triggered his spider senses and forced him to follow them.

Someone had planted bombs, and they were powerful.

Glancing at his phone’s clock, Peter cursed to himself before he ducked into an unoccupied alley and re-emerged.

He had two hours. It was time to see if he could break his record for fastest crime dealt with.

*****

Ignoring the fact that there was now another asshole dressed as a goblin in New York —aptly named Hobgoblin —Peter was making good on time. He’d managed to find all the bombs, either detonating them safely or deactivating them, within the hour. And he managed to track down the goblin, sort of, to the next target he had. That had turned into a bit of a scrap before the villain had taken off and Peter lost his trail.

“I think this is someone else’s whole gimmick! Peter called out to the new menace, shooting a web to the glider. The goblin wasn’t attached to it, like Harry would have been. When Peter yanked the glider from under the criminal, the only thing that happened was he flew away. Like with a set of wings and all.

Peter sort of just stood there and cussed very loudly as he threw the glider into the ground to destroy it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Determining that he needed to be selfish, Peter decided that would be a problem for another day. Or for the police, at the very least. Peter was a bit beat up, having been punched in the face a couple times and hit with a smaller explosive that went off in his face. Cuts and bruises, maybe, but he was otherwise in tact.

With that thought in mind, Peter snatched his backpack from the alley and made his way home. He remained in uniform, swinging himself through the city. And like so many times before, Peter dropped himself down into the alley outside his apartment, pulled his clothes on over his uniform and yanked off his mask.

And he just like he did almost a year ago, when he first literally ran into her. He walked into the lobby of his apartment. This time, though, the doorman waved at him as Peter sat in the little seating area.

And he waited.

He had timed her arrival from work for a couple weeks now. She got off at 3:30, had three hour rehearsals, and usually got home between 6:25 and 6:30. To ensure he knew, he tried his best to tune his senses to her abilities. While she didn’t use them often, they radiated off her in waves and interacted with whatever caused his senses to work. So when she was nearby, he always knew. It was incredibly handy when she was possibly in danger; or when he was practicing his proposal in the mirror.

Sensing her arrival, Peter hopped up and hurried toward the elevator, pressing the button to ensure it opened. The doorman watched him curiously as Peter entered the elevator and let it shut behind him. He hit floor two, let it go up and open. Then he hit floor one and went back down. Perfectly timed to open as she walked into the lobby of the apartment. The doorman was still watching, brow raised curiously.

She was on her phone, clearly texting someone (he assumed it was him; she always texted when she entered the building), and Peter beelined straight for her. As he got closer, he extended his arms out and caught her by the waist, smiling brightly at her as she gasped in surprise. The paper cup stack from the water jug in the corner slammed against the back of his head as she looked up.

“Peter!”

He looked at the cups as they hit the ground, and the doorman’s eyes widened as he stood up. Peter spun her around though, away from the elevator, with a smile.

“I was just leaving, why don’t you come with me?”

“Peter, babe, your face —“

“It’s fine. Just a scrap with some B-tier criminal. Come with me.”

“We should really clean that…”

Peter didn’t listen to her argue, pulling her along with him as he walked back out the doors. Hanging a quick left, he guided her down the street, towards the diner that they shared their first date. She tried explaining she still had her work stuff, that whatever he wanted to do was fine but she didn’t want to carry it. So he snatched it up himself, slinging it over his shoulder with a bright smile. She was flustered some, but laughed a little, relaxing into whatever his plan was.

The diner was rarely busy this time of day, especially in the middle of the week. It was ideal, and he didn’t plan on going inside anyway. No, while what happened inside was great, it’s what happened outside that changed his life.

Peter stopped short of the entrance, making sure not to block it, and turned on his heel in front of her. She bumped into him, unprepared for the sudden stop, and looked up at him. It was clear she was still confused, but she trusted Peter enough. And she trusted whatever he was up to; she kind of had an idea.

“You know what happened here a year ago?” He asked her, taking her hands in his.

She nodded tentatively, looking around them for a moment. “We had our first date.”

“Technically yes,” he corrected her, a smile forming as he stepped a little closer to her. “What happened here, a year ago, was you made me promise to kiss you before I left for anything. That way we’d always finish our dates.”

“You’ve made pretty good on that promise too,” she pointed out, smiling now as she fully relaxed.

“I have remembered to kiss you every single time I’ve left to save this city,” he corrected again, heart swelling with pride. He felt her squeeze his hands gently, and he returned the gesture. “The night I literally ran into you changed my life.” Her cheeks began to flush, and he could tell she was just radiating happiness as he continued to speak. “I have spent the better part of ten years stuck in this…spiral of self-loathing, where I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy. Or that I didn’t deserve to love or be loved. It had been months since I went through the multiverse, and I thought by meeting different versions of myself, of you, I could just…move on but —“

“Wait, what?” She interrupted, staring up at him as she dropped his hands. “You went where?”

Peter suddenly realized he never told her. “Oh, I…well it’s complicated. I can explain after —“

“What do you mean, a different version of me?” She continued.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t how the proposal was supposed to go.

“Please, let me get to my point —“

“Peter, you travelled through the multiverse! When? How?” She demanded.

Caving, and giving up trying to finish the moment that was now ruined, he ran a hand through his hair. “Last December. It was weird, and stupidly complicated with magic and portals and a wizard who was kind of a dick. But I met two versions of myself —one older, one younger. We saved Max Dillon and Dr. Connors, and that’s how I got the antidote for Harry —“

“You met a wizard!” She yelled out, and the people across the street gave her a weird look. “And you met me!”

Peter shushed her, waving his hands in front of her face to quiet her down. “She wasn’t necessarily you-you. Just a version of you. She was her Peter’s best friend and I saved her from dying. It was her that made me realize I…I needed to know you. My you.” She stared up at him in utter shock, processing everything he had said. “Can I…can I keep going?” He whispered, putting his hands in his pockets as his heart started to pound in his ears.

She hesitated for a second before she nodded finally.

Peter took a deep breath, trying to recreate the moment he had before. “Okay, uh. Like I was saying, I-I thought I could just move on. Get over it all. I couldn’t though —but I could change my routine, just a little. I started to leave through the lobby of the apartment. Which was the stupidest change but it was the easiest change I could make.” He looked down for a moment, taking one more breath. “Even when we danced around not knowing what we were, I think I always I knew I loved you. But when Harry dropped you, when you were stuck in the hospital because of me —“

“It wasn’t your fault —“

He ignored her though. “You asked about me. You asked how I was, even though you were the one in pain. And that’s when I knew you were the one.”

Peter pulled his hands out of his pockets, the velvety box obscured in his hand still. He was shaking some, and took one more grounding breath as he kneeled before her. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth to keep from gasping.

“I wanted to marry you that night, and I have been carrying this ring since then. Seven months, waiting for this moment. And now I just need to know —Y/N, will you marry me?”

Peter opened the box and she gasped finally, nodding frantically. She didn’t even look at the ring though; she didn’t need to. Her eyes were trained on Peter as she dropped down to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tight. Peter gripped the box a bit tighter but wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close against him.

“God. Yes. Absolutely, a million times over. Yes, Peter Parker.”

He stood, pulling her up with him as he lifted her from the ground and spun them around. When he sat her down, he took her hand, pulling the ring out of the box. Her hand trembled from excitement and overwhelming joy as he slipped the ring on her finger. Tears were in his eyes as he took her face in his hands next, looking down at her.

“I love you so much,” he whispered as he pulled her into a deep kiss.

Peter’s hands dropped from her face to her hips, pulling her flush against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Nothing was there to interrupt them, for once, and Peter took full advantage as their mouths moved against one another, savoring every second they had.

Pulling away to catch their breaths, she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Tears, stained with mascara, spilled over her cheeks. Peter kissed her nose, and her cheeks, and then her lips one more time before he finally settled down.

Thank god he started to leave through the lobby.

———

Series Masterlist | Requests are OPEN

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Taglist: @likeahurricanee @kitcat072 @twsssmlmaa @mellxander1993 @clairethereader

#andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield #tasm!peter x reader

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noctumbra · 3 years

Text

𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍

summary ─ “i’m so glad that we came across to each other,” bucky said. “it really felt nice to catch up with you, to talk to you.”

pairing ─ fuckboy!teacher!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ fluff, seeing each other after yeeeears later, coffee shop conversations, catching up, EPILOGUE

a/n ─ i said i wasn’t sure about writing this but i couldn’t stop myself because i want this soft and sweet closure for them without tears lol. thank you for all the love you’ve given me throughout this trilogy series. i’m really thankful. also i’m sorry for making y’all cry a lot djhfdjhf. this is the epilogue. hope you like it. please leave a comment if you do! thank you! i love you all <3

previous part ─ series masterlist

TEN YEARS LATER

You exhaled a sigh of relief as you threw yourself into your favorite coffee shop, finally getting the chance to escape from the scorching heat of the sun. Stepping away from the door, you closed your eyes for a second. The cool breeze of the air conditioning was hitting your face so nicely, you felt like you could cry.

Shivering lightly, you opened your eyes and walked towards the short line in front of the register. You deserved a grande coffee after the very busy day you had. Your eyes were hurting slightly because you’ve been looking at the computer screen for hours now.

“Thank fuck the weekend is here,” you murmured to yourself as you fished your wallet out. You heard the guy in front of you humming in an approving way, and you froze for a second. “I should have whispered,” you said, and the guy chuckled this time. Grimacing to yourself, you decided to shut up.

As you waited for your turn, you started to watch people around you. Everyone was either tired-looking or way-too-jittery-looking because of all the caffeine and sweets. Most of them had come here with a friend, you realized and frowned lightly. Inhaling the freshly brewed coffee smell deeply, you moved your eyes to the guy in front of you.

He was tall. He had dark brown, mid-length hair, it was a bit longer than mid-length, though, you noted. He had whites peppered in it, and it looked good. He had a navy colored suit on him. The suit jacket was hugging his broad shoulders very nicely, and the suit pants he had on was complimenting his thick thighs. You hummed silently to yourself. You moved two steps forward, eyes still on the guy, as the people on the register was done with their order. It was the guy’s turn.

“Hello,” he murmured, and you felt a lick of familiarity. “Can I get a black coffee, grande?” You frowned. The guy’s voice was familiar. You watched him grabbing a small protein bar. “And this.” The boy at the register nodded as he punched in the order, and the guy in front of you pulled his wallet to pay.

You saw the hand tattoo. Your eyes widened.

“Name?” The boy asked. The guy looked up briefly.

“James.” You watched his hand as he pulled out some money and gave them to the boy. He was wearing the rings from─

“Bucky?” You asked, surprise audible in your voice. Bucky startled, his shoulders went stiff and he turned around. His baby blue eyes bored into yours as they widened with surprised.

“Y/N?” He breathed. “Oh my God.” You let out a chuckle.

“There you go,” the boy said, handing out the extra money. Bucky cursed lightly as he took the money and stepped aside. Just as he opened his mouth, his name was called. You saw him clenching his jaw. Your smile widened. “What can I get you?” You blinked, returning to the real world.

“Cappuccino, grande. Non-lactose milk, please. No foam,” you said your order and handed out the money. The boy nodded. “Y/N,” you gave him your name without him asking for it. The boy worked quick; he told your order and gave your cup to the barista and handed some of your money back. You bid him good day before you walked towards where Bucky was still standing.

Goddamn, you thought. He looked good.

The whites in his hair were also in his stubble, covering his chin slightly. He looked grown, albeit a bit older, and the crinkles around his eyes made him look more handsome than he normally was.

“Holy crap, Y/N,” Bucky said, his eyes moving up and down on your body. “I can’t believe you still look as gorgeous as before.” You chuckled, feeling the heat rushing to your cheeks after literal years. “Not that I expected you to look bad, by the way,” he said, rolling his eyes. You smiled. You grabbed your coffee when barista called out for you and turned to Bucky.

“Wanna recharge together in one of those tables?” You asked, pointing at the coffees. Bucky chuckled and nodded.

“Of course!” He said. “I would love to.”

Both of you walked towards an empty table near the café windows. After you settled, you looked at him. He looked happy, you realized. He didn’t look haunted or sad anymore. He looked healthy and happy if not a little tired.

“You look great,” you said softly. “You don’t look so… sad anymore.” Bucky smiled. Taking a sip from his coffee, he nodded lightly.

“I’m… good,” he decided to say. “I swore not to lie to you again and I’m not gonna start that now,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t so good after our last talk, but time helped.” Bucky shrugged, his fingers were playing with his coffee cup. “I had time to focus on myself, and then my job. It kept me busy but also gave me some time to heal. So, I’m good.”

You smiled fondly at him. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that,” you murmured. “You deserve to be good, Bucky. I’m glad you’re now. I just hope you’ll be better soon.” You watched him blush, your smile widened and turned soft.

Bucky shook himself and straightened up on his seat. “Tell me what you’ve been up to,” he said, excitement shining in his eyes. “I haven’t seen you for ten years. Are you a cat mom or dog mom or a real one?” You let out a surprised laugh.

“Bold of you to assume I want to be a mother, Buchanan,” you deadpanned. Bucky grinned toothily. “…I have a cat,” then you added. Bucky chuckled.

“Knew it,” he said, snapping his fingers. You rolled your eyes. “’s fine. I have an asshole for myself waiting me at home.” He rolled his eyes like you. “I swear he hates me and wants to kill me, but he doesn’t because I feed him.” You laughed, almost snorting out your cappuccino. Bucky grimaced at himself and then chuckled.

“Murderous cats,” you muttered. “I had an encounter with them once or twice.” You nodded seriously. “She tried to trip me and scared me to the death, so.” Bucky giggled. “She’s the cutest, though.” Bucky smiled. He knew that feeling all too well. You sighed.

“How’s teaching? I see that you kept your tattoos, but goodbye piercings?” You asked, eyebrows high on your forehead. Bucky grunted. It wasn’t a happy sound.

“Apparently, me having piercings might provoke the students to get the same look? They told that I cover my tattoos with my clothing but can’t hide my piercings, so they had to go. ‘s bullshit.”

“…It is,” you agreed because it was. “Your hand and neck tattoos are visible, and they were troubled with your piercings? Yup, bullshit.” He grunted again and sipped his coffee.

“Love the students, though,” he added without you asking. “They’re dumb sometimes and goofy almost all the time, but I love them.” He smiled. You could see that he really did love his students. He was great with children ─shocking, yes─ and seeing him being happy with his work was making you happy.

“I’m glad to hear that. You were weirdly good with kids,” you said, looking at him over your coffee. Bucky narrowed his eyes. “It was cute, don’t get me wrong. I just didn’t expect from someone who looked the way you did back in college and be good with kids. I was shocked when I learned that you were going to be a teacher.” Bucky snorted.

“I love teaching,” he defended himself with a faux-offended face. You grinned. “I enjoy telling them things that make them go ‘wow’ and love seeing them use what I taught.” He shrugged. “How is editing?”

“Ughhhh,” you groaned. “Don’t get me started.” He looked at you, eyes wide and half-grin visible on his face.

“Oh, okay,” he said and then giggled. “I feel like you have a lot of feelings bottled up in there.” He pointed your head, and you grunted like he did a couple minutes ago.

“People who don’t even know punctuation are sending me their works, and they are brave enough to tell me that they wanted it published.” Grunting even more, you sipped your coffee. “It’s a pain to read all the cringy, too fast moving works and editing. It feels like I’m re-writing their whole work.” Bucky frowned slightly, tilting his head to his side.

“Why do you work there, then?” He asked. “You could go back to school and do something extra? Or become a professor there?” You eyed him.

“I’ve been thinking about that for some time, now, to be honest,” you admitted. It wasn’t a lie; you were thinking about going back to school and maybe spend a couple years there and start teaching. “Been looking up my options. I’m still not quite sure, but the idea is there.”

“Well,” Bucky said, draining his coffee. “Let me know. I might be able to help in some way, maybe.” You smiled.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmured. He sent you a cheeky wink. “Tell me more!” You exclaimed. “You told me you’re a cat dad, what else?”

“I’m an uncle,” he said and then wiggled on his seat because it still made him giddy. “I have like two nieces now, my sisters like to procreate.” You chuckled. “Oh, do you know Sam Wilson?” You frowned.

“From Psychology Department?” He nodded. “Yeah, I saw him a couple times.” Putting your cup aside, you leaned forward. “What about him?”

“He got married to Natasha, the Russian Literature girl? The one that we both found scarily hot?” Giggling, you nodded. He grinned. “Well, they’re married now, and have a daughter.”

“No shit,” you said.

“Yes shit,” Bucky kept grinning. “Steve’s gonna get married in two months. Someone called Sharon Carter─”

“Wait, is her aunt Peggy Carter?” Bucky frowned, but nodded. “Holy shit, I work at Carter Publishing. She’s my boss.” Bucky laughed.

“Okay, nice coincidence,” he murmured.

“Damn,” you whispered, making him laugh again. “Give me more gossip, please. I’m obviously hiding under a rock.” Smiling, Bucky leaned forward on the table, too.

“Alright, hear me out.”

─

You talked about everything and anything for hours.

Bucky talked about his job, about his students and his plans for future which included going back to school and becoming a professor or something, so that he could teach at a university. He also said that he was going to miss his ‘high school dumbasses’, but he wanted to become better at what he was doing. He also talked about his siblings, he had three sisters, and his parents a little. He showed you a couple pictures of his cat, a very pretty white cat named Alpine, and his parent’s dogs, two German Shepherds.

“They’re so handsome,” you exclaimed when you saw them. Bucky chuckled.

“They are,” he agreed. “They’re also old.”

“Bleh,” you blurted, making him laugh. You felt a satisfying, warm bubble building up in your chest as you bit your lip and watched him laugh. Your feelings for him were still there, still present. You never stopped loving him, and you knew you were always going to love him. He was the one for you, but your story wasn’t meant to be end together. You knew and accepted that now.

You told him about your life, your job and future plans, too. You talked about your doubts about going back to school, and Bucky somehow helped you soothe them. He encouraged you, told you that you were going to be amazing and it wasn’t late for you to go back to school. You thanked him as you moved onto talk about your cat. You showed him a picture like he did to you.

“You have a Siamese!” He cried out. “Damn, he is handsome.” You chuckled.

“He is, but he’s the biggest asshole I’ve ever known,” you grumbled. Bucky giggled.

“Hey, cats are cats. They meant to be assholes,” he said.

“Hear, hear.” Both of you chuckled.

The silence fell between you was a happy and content one. You talked about things, made each other laugh and smile, and both of you saw that how much the other had grown. It was nice. Seeing him was nice.

“I know I apologized before, but I want to apologize again,” Bucky murmured softly after a while of silence. “I’m sorry for making you cry and for hurting you. You didn’t deserve any of the shit I put you through. I was an asshole, I know and see that now,” he added. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” You smiled. Reaching out, you held his warm and large hand. The sense of familiarity consumed you.

“I have forgiven you years ago, James,” you murmured as softly as he did. He squeezed your hand. “Things happened, but both of us were still children.” Your smile became a little sad. “Obviously, we weren’t meant to be. I wish we were, though. I wish we were meant to be, but we are not. It’s okay. You’ve apologized before and owned up your mistakes. Thank you. I forgive you.” Bucky’s hold in your hand tightened just a bit more. You squeezed it right back. “I forgive you. It’s alright. We’re alright.”

Bucky took a deep breath. You could see that he felt lighter. His guilt must have been eating him alive, you realized, and your heart gave a painful thud at the thought.

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear that,” he said, slightly breathless. You just held his hand tighter and smiled wider. “I wish we were meant to be, too, Y/N. I─” He paused briefly. “I still love you. I have never stopped loving you, and I probably will never stop loving you. No one was you, and I doubt that someone will ever be you. I know now that we’ve grown out of each other. We might still love, yes, but…”

“It’s not enough anymore because even though we still love each other, that train took off,” you finished. He nodded. “So much has happened, and it changed us. Yes, Bucky, I get it. I still love you, too, and will always love you, but it’s not enough now.” He nodded again. Both of you sighed, feeling lighter and happier out of a sudden.

“I’m so glad that we came across to each other,” Bucky said. “It really felt nice to catch up with you, to talk to you.”

“Me too,” you agreed immediately. “I─” You held his other hand. “I’ve missed you, Bucky. It was very nice talking to you.” You looked at each other for a couple minutes before pulling back. You ignored how cold and empty your hands felt after he pulled his back. Standing up quietly, you grabbed your things. You walked out of the café together.

“I would like to see you sometimes,” Bucky said. “As friends. I would love to be your friend, Y/N.” You agreed. You didn’t want to deny him anymore. You wanted him in your life.

“I would love that,” you murmured and gave him your number. Bucky added you in his contacts and sent you a text.

“I will see you later, then,” Bucky murmured. It felt so good to say that, he realized. After saying goodbye to you many times, it felt amazing to say that he’d see you later. You smiled fondly.

“I will see you later,” you murmured back. Bucky gave you a nod and a large smile. Both of you bid good night to each other and walked opposite directions on the sidewalk.

This time, it wasn’t a goodbye.

This time, it was a promise to see the other again.

It was a nice, blossoming friendship.

─

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