#no because what the actual fuck is going on
Note
There is no law that prevents a convicted felon from running for and becoming president, nor a law that bans someone from being president in prison. Also, if Trump gets incapacitated in someway, many ultra right republicans who equally despise trans people and immigrants and Muslims would happily take his place
And I ask, with all due respect, what is your point?
Do you think I don't know that?
Do you think I am somehow convinced that everything is hunky dory now and we don't have any work left to do?
Are you just determined to be the first of the gloom-and-doomers who show up like clockwork in my inbox, every time some consequence happens to Trump, to morosely insist that no consequences will happen to him? First it was "he'll win re-election." Then it was "the coup will succeed." Then it was "he will never be indicted." Then it was "2022 will be a red wave!" Then it was "he will never be tried." Then it was "he will never be convicted." Now we've moved on, within less than 2 hours of the first US President ever to be convicted of ONE felony, let alone THIRTY-FOUR, "he'll never be sentenced or face a real consequence or lose the election." The goalposts keep moving RIGHT along without even a single pause to acknowledge the difficulty and the value of the progress we have made thus far, and it makes me CRAZY.
Do you people realize how fucking rare it is, both in the world today and historically, for a former (and would-be future) head of state to be held to criminal account by a jury of 12 anonymous ordinary citizens? When that one person, Trump, is the center of the malignant fascist cancer that has spread through this country ever since 2016, and plenty of his cultists are still insisting that it's Trump or nobody for them? When we've actually reached the stage of holding him legally accountable for (some of) his crimes for the first time in his miserable misbegotten life? I suspect that most of you are so deep in the "America is totally broken and the system is useless and we can only Revolute!!!1" rabbit hole that you're bound and determined to argue away every step we take, however slow, as Meaning Nothing TM. Voting? Fake. Fighting to make real progress? Also fake. Everything is fake except our belief that everything is broken and we need the Keyboard Warrior Glorious Revolution!!! As long as you can keep inventing ever more contorted twists of logic to ignore everything else that's happened so far, this makes sense... or something. I guess?
Now we're onto "removing Trump won't matter :(" when a whole lot of people have been fighting day and fucking night to get all the privileged-princess Online Leftists to get off their Che Guevara cosplaying asses and cast a single fucking vote to keep us from full-on-sliding into fascism. A slide into fascism that, again, has been spearheaded and centered around Trump's toxic cult of personality and which is still tied to him in almost every way. Apparently holding him to account (again, which has never happened to him in his life) already doesn't matter because wah wah he won't suffer any consequences. If he loses this election he's probably going to jail for the rest of his life! We would have electorally defeated the greatest threat to the American democratic experiment in 250 years, and frankly a huge part of the fascist far-right hydra that is currently attempting a comeback around the world! This is, yet again:
THE FIRST TIME ANY AMERICAN PRESIDENT, EVER, HAS BEEN CONVICTED OF MULTIPLE FELONY CHARGES IN A COURT OF LAW BY A JURY OF HIS PEERS
and yet we're still hearing that nothing matters and no work has been done and removing him will have no effect???
Come on. Come on. I know it's tiring and it's slow and it doesn't go as fast as we want. But every single damn time the process goes another step, here you people are in my inbox insisting that we're still at zero progress and it means nothing, and lemme tell you, I am Tired of it. Come on. You don't have to jump up and down (my own feeling is glee and vindication but still not relaxation, I will not relax until he loses the fucking election and goes to jail), but you also don't need to keep myopically pretending that all the effort thus far by so many people means nothing. Come on.
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save a horse, ride a cowboy
<san x fem!reader>
Choi San. Half naked. Cowboy hat. Useless ass crop vest.
Your dreams are wetter than the sweat on his chest.
a/n: no words just horny thoughts the moment choi san appeared like that in the mv and I needed to get it off my chest. 🤗
wc: 1.8K
warnings: smut. pwp, party!au, deepthroating, blowjobs, slight hair pulling, one time spanking (LMAO), orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, it's just choi san brain rot, kinda dacryphilia?, yo it's just straight up filth that's all you need to know
taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @Miss-Fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @owlbeforesunset @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @Haleyjoye @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @ewok7attack @yunhogrippers @kibs-and-bits @Liyahbug @mikrausch @sophiemueller05 @lissiesykes @yeo-arriba @luvt0kki @vic0921 @httpseungmxn
You stare down at the man a couple of feet away, his figure too prominent to miss. He’s in a useless black cropped vest, bronze studs lined up the hems of the clothing accompanied with long fringe details that hung lower than the fucking vest itself. You barely take notice of the leather pants he wore, mostly because his arms were just there—thick and so perfectly muscled. But the star of the fucking show? His bare fucking tits. The vest barely covered jack shit, his tits just basking under the dim lights, thick and perky. Your eyes shift to his face before you start flooding the vicinity with your drool. Hell no.
San still hasn’t noticed you. Maybe it’s because of the obnoxious black cowboy hat he has on looking like it’s blocking his view or something. And he tops the look off with a simple black bandana decorated with fringes that he wraps around his neck.
You want to wrap yourself around his neck too.
Your hunky little crush still doesn’t seem to notice you blatantly ogling him since it looks like he’s engrossed in a conversation with Mingi.
The sound of a desert-themed party sounded interesting to you when your friend brought it up to you but it didn’t hook you in enough to actually garner your interest to go, that was, until your friend had offhandedly mentioned that San would be there.
You didn’t put your hopes up of course, because in your peripherals, it seemed like you weren’t the only pair of eyes just eye fucking San, and so you were satisfied letting your fantasies just stay within the confines of your brain, now just full Choi San brain rot.
And when your brain starts ringing alarms on San looking like he was looking your direction, your eyes immediately shifting to your drink. But it seems like you caught his attention.
From your peripherals, you watch him push past people, approaching you much quicker than you had liked.
“Hey, y/n, caught you staring”, he smiles cheekily.
“You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you Choi San?”
He shrugs.
Then he mouths something, but you can’t seem to catch what, and that sentiment seems to have been written all over your face, because the smell of spicy citrus hits you, accompanied by the low rumble of San’s voice right at your ear, freezing you at your spot.
“I was saying that you’re a pretty cowgirl today.”
Shit. Fuck.
You stare up at San, tears gradually pooling at the corner of your eyes at how fucking thick this man’s cock is. But gods did it feel so fucking good to have San’s fat fucking cock shoved down your throat like that. You watch the way his abs contract when his groans are pulled out from him, the way his nipples are so fucking hard from how horny he is making you suck him off like that. Your panties are pretty much useless at this point trying to keep your slick from trickling down your thighs.
“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me aren’t you?” San groans, his fingers tugging harder against your scalp, forcing you to take his cock deeper. You manage to hum in agreement almost too quickly, and San only scoffs at your desperation, well not that he’s holding up any better. His eyes shut again, and he throws his head back, rutting his hips against your face, his moans going up in pitch, and when he happens to steal a glance at your face fucking his cock, you feel the space in your mouth fill up even more.
Only curses and moans leave San’s mouth, and there’s only so much force you can use to squeeze your thighs from holding your cunt off from leaking all over the fucking floor.
“Your mouth feels so fucking good, dollface. I can’t fucking—fuck!—can’t fucking wait to fuck your other tight little hole next”, San huffs breathlessly, his sanity dangerously dropping in levels.
With a broken, deep moan, he suddenly pulls out of your mouth, fucking his cock with his hand instead, letting his cum spill over your mouth and chest, slightly shaking from the pleasure especially when he can’t keep his eyes off you licking his cum off his cock and the corner of your lips.
You watch him catch his breath, and he’s so fucking attractive when he furrows his brows like that, but you decide to pull away to get some towels to clean yourself up.
The moment you stand and turn around, San’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest, and you realise his fingers are loosening the knot on your top, and San doesn’t waste time to yank it off your shoulders. You barely have the time to process but you realise it doesn’t fucking matter the moment his deep voice bleeds right into the crevices of your brain.
“Now where do you think you’re going babe? I said I was gonna fuck your other hole next, wasn’t I?”
No more butterflies in your stomach anymore, it’s probably a whole ecosystem at this point.
San’s fingers intertwine with yours, unfortunately, he doesn’t let it stay a second more fluffy when he has you on the bed, his thick fingers tugging off every single useless piece of clothing off you. San licks his lips when he’s greeted with the sight of your pussy just so fucking wet and leaking for him. His eyes meet yours, and he looks like he’s about to eat you up any second.
“How much do you like walking straight?” He asks, his fingers trailing a fucking blaze down your thighs, and you watch the way his cock hardens—the way precum from his silt is mixing with the thick cum from before when his thumb tugs against your wet folds.
He looms over you, fingers keeping your legs spread wide open for him, his pants pulled lower, his half-hard cock resting on your inner thigh.
“Not much of a fan”, you reply, realising that trying to snap your legs shut with Choi San’s fingers in between them was a stupid idea.
“Good”, is all San replies before he pushes his thick cock right into your pussy, and you swear he’s knocked out all the wind from you at the way his thick cock slid in, filling your whole fucking pussy up. You gasp, fingernails digging into his arms, but he doesn’t even seem to take notice. But what he does take notice of is the way you’re fluttering around him, so fucking dazed at the way his cock feels in you.
“So fucking good, San”, it leaves your lips as a whine.
He exchanges a smile, “Your tight pretty pussy, and it’s all for me.”
Your eyes roll back when he pulls out slightly and thrusts into you again, and again, until the sounds grow wetter, louder, and San fucks you harder, making you wonder if you were gonna lose your legs or mind first. The sensations are completely melting off the neurons of your brain, and your hands are pressing against his chest, feeling his heart beating wildly. You feel your face flush slightly, wondering if he feels the same way as you do.
Your thoughts are completely cut short when you feel his fingers curl around your neck, forcing you to look up at him when he lets his lips melt against yours. Your tongues meet, and you taste very light hints of alcohol underneath the sweetness. Soft moans pour out of San, and he’s only getting thicker inside of you as he lets your hands rake through his short locks.
“You’re like fucking heaven, you know that?” San whispers as he pulls back. The sweetness lasts for a second until he adds on, “And I wanna drag you down with me, baby.”
His arms are around you and he lifts you, in one swift motion, he has you straddling his hips, and you do him a favour by getting his pants off him. San pretty much kicks the remainder of his pants off, his arms pull you by your thighs to his once more, and you’re hoping you don’t drool because something about San being fully naked beneath you, only his vest barely covering his fat tits, just ready for you to fucking ride him was sending you into a fucking orbit.
And even when you’re dripping and stretched open for San, the feeling of his cock splitting you open from below only threatened your remaining sanity. You watch San bite his lip, holding himself back from just bursting into you, also evident from the way his fingers are pressing hard against your thighs.
But when you start grinding against him, he realises he probably isn’t gonna last much longer.
And when his cock hits your spots for the nth time from below, your cunt flutters without warning, and the knot snaps before you could even say anything, your orgasm hitting you like a fucking tidal wave.
And San isn’t slowing down.
His face is in complete bliss—muttering curses and releasing moans,
“Ah, fuck. That’s a good fucking girl, cumming all over my cock like that”, he hisses, feeling you pulsate around him helplessly as he continues to fuck into you, forcing you to continue bouncing off his cock.
Tears bubble at the corner of your eyes once more from the sheer pleasure the moment you feel San hold your ass down, your arms wrapped tightly around him, feeling his cock twitch and spurt warm cum right into your poor hole. Wait. Something feels funny. You swallow hard, hoping, praying he doesn’t do anything because you swear something might just break in you if he does.
“S-San, wait it’s too much-“
You’re barely holding it together, and it all falls apart when his palm lands an impact right on your ass, forcing another wave of orgasm to hit you even harder this time, a strained cry leaving your throat, your pussy completely pushing San’s cock out, your hips lifting off him as you squirt all over his thighs, San’s cum spurting out alongside the clear liquid. San watches the way your eyes are screwed shut, your tears trickling down your cheeks, the way your body violently shakes while he soothes you with his palm up and down your back, and he thinks he’s in love.
As you descend from your high, San captures your lips with his, humming soft praises of taking him so well once he pulls away, letting you lie on his chest.
“I guess you're my pretty cowgirl tonight ”, he teases, letting you hit his chest playfully.
San’s arm snakes around your waist as the both of you slowly make your way to the front door, catching the gaze of the partygoers, and he leans in as the both of you walk, low enough to reach your ears,
“I’ll make good use of the bandana next time too, so tell me doll face, how close do you like your wrists to be?”
#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez x reader#ateez smut#smut#ateez fic#kpop smut#choi san smut#choi san#choi san ateez#ateez choi san#choi san x reader
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Okay I have a request. Lando with his long time girlfriend and when Oscar joins the team they warn him to stay away from Lando’s drivers room after a race because him and reader love to ‘celebrate’ no matter the result of the race. And Oscar finds out the hard way. But McLaren are like use to it. 🤭🧡
Please and thank you.
a/n: i'm sorry this is short, but i literally couldn't come up with more for this :((( i'm trying to push through my little writer's block and put out as many fics as i possibly can while i still have a little time (i have my first exam on Thursday and I have so much shit to learn it's actually not even funny, but here i am writing fics instead of doing just that, yay me)
In all fairness, Oscar had been well warned about Lando and his girlfriend’s antics post-races. Given that the walls in the motorhome were very thin, as Oscar had stated previously, the team felt like they should let Oscar know what he was in for.
He hadn’t quite taken to heart what he had been told. He had been thinking to himself, how bad can it actually be? And oh boy, it was bad.
You and Lando had made a pact from the beginning of your relationship and when you started coming to all of his races that you would do something to celebrate his every race outcome, no matter how good or bad. You vowed to see every race as something positive and take something from each one.
The McLaren team had become accustomed to your shenanigans, knowing not to go anywhere near Lando’s driver room in the hours after the race. They had come to learn to stay away the hard way, if you know what I mean.
And yet, Oscar chose to ignore them. Why? He didn’t even know.
Maybe it was just pure curiosity, maybe it was ignorance, one could only make suppositions.
If he had managed not to hear anything that even remotely resembled the warnings he had been given up until that moment, he was in for a treat this time.
You had attended the Miami GP with Lando, catching a break from your studies and having promised him that he wouldn’t have to go to a race alone after failing to attend Japan. And imagine the joy you had felt once Lando had taken the checkered flag in P1. Scratch that, imagine what was going through your mind about the celebrations you were about to have with Lando as soon as he came back to the motorhome ;).
Your boyfriend had been thinking the exact same way, trying to make his way back to the hospitality as soon as he possibly could, but still politely stopping for interviews and photos or autographs.
But once he finally reached his room and saw you waiting for him, dressed only in your underwear, he knew he was in for an enormous treat.
Oscar hadn’t heard Lando get back. He had been so deep into thought and so focused on the music he had been listening to with headphones on that he hadn’t heard the door opening, the squeals that you let out once Lando had practically pounced on you as soon as he locked the door.
However, he was pulled out of his thoughts when he started hearing bangs, moans and dirty talking through his wall. At first he had thought he was hearing things. There was no way you were actually celebrating that loudly, right?
Wrong.
When he turned off the music and took off his headphones, he realized just how fucking loud you guys were being.
He didn’t even know how to react. What was he even supposed to do? Was he just supposed to leave his room and find somewhere else to hang out until you guys were done? Should he knock on your door and ask you guys to keep it down? No, Lando deserved the win and winding down whatever way he saw fit.
Sighing, he felt himself growing redder once the sounds on the other side of the wall only intensified. He couldn’t just stand around and listen to his teammate probably getting the fuck of his life after his maiden win, so he figured he would just get something to eat and hang out with either Mark or Logan.
The moment a member of the PR team, David, had seen him coming from his room, his cheeks a heavy crimson and refusing to make eye contact with anyone, he realized Oscar had just been the victim of Y/N and Lando.
“You heard them, didn’t you?” David asked him, an amused smile stretching on his face.
Oscar blushed even heavier, if that was even possible. Shyly, he nodded, making David laugh and pat him on the back.
“I didn’t think they were actually that bad” Oscar said, playing with his fingers as his ears could still pick up the noises he had done his best to avoid.
“We tried telling you, you didn’t want to believe us” David chuckled, patting him on the back again as he departed.
When you and Lando finally emerged from his room almost an hour later, the both of you laughed when you noticed how Oscar was avoiding eye contact with the both of you.
Poor Oscar…
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#imagines#oneshots#fanfiction#one shot#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fic#f1#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris blurb#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#oscar piastri#lando norris one shot#lando norris drabble#lando norris first win#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 fluff#mclaren#mclaren f1
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Psssst! Hey! Yes, you! We need to talk about clubs:
Using the Clubs for Immersive Gameplay
Of all the systems that Sims 4 has, the club feature is probably one of my favourites (Restaurants are a close second, but they're not why we're here today!) Clubs are one of the easiest ways to increase your immersion when you play and make the random townies that show up on community lots just a tiny bit less random.
The Basics
Often, people are mostly concerned with the groups their active sims are in. You might already have a club to keep track of your sims' closest friends, study group, or baby daddies, we don't judge here.
Clubs are also a great way to automate what you want your sim to be doing with less micromanaging, but for immersion, we're actually more interested in clubs for the sims you don't (or rarely) play.
WTF are the neighbours doing?
Most of the pre-made clubs are kinda meh. I prefer to add my own so I can make my community lots just a bit more lively and make sure people's activities make just a tiny bit of sense because the autonomy in this game is not great. These are just for inspiration based on clubs I often add to my own game:
A group of teens who meet at the retail clothing store to try on clothes and gossip about Nancy's nose job or whatever.
A local bowling league (complete with uniforms) who meet and bowl - just don't fuck with The Jesus.
An HOA of Karens who meet at the park to clean, raise property values, and be mean to people.
Geeks and gamers who meet at the local arcade to awkwardly flirt over pizza.
Comedians who meet at the local comedy club - you can even use the club doors to make a VIP backroom only for the performers.
Sports teams - such as a basket team who meets at a local basket court, or a swim team who meets at the local pool (you can even give them tiny matching speedos!)
Scouts! The scout feature is cute but it's a rabbit hole, boo! But you can make a Scouts club, complete with uniforms, and have them show up in parks where they can do various activities and work on their badges. Add a teen or two to supervise the younglings, their parents will be so proud, aww.
A sorority or fraternity in university who meet up at the local bar in matching varsity jackets to make all the other students feel inferior.
A group of old ladies who meet at the park to knit or cross-stitch and brag about the accomplishments of their descendants.
A "business" club, usually CEOs, lawyers and such, who meet in fancy bars to hold important business meetings and probably commit white-collar crimes, so predictable.
If you have a sim with an office/work from home job and you'd like to pretend they actually go to work, you can make an office building and a group of "coworkers" who'll show up to drink coffee, chat, and work on computers next to them in the office. It'll even simulate rotating desk assignments for an instant capitalist hellscape!
The possibilities are endless, and I find the club feature really useful to add little interesting scenarios to the background of my gameplay.
Thanks to SQOTD for inspiring this!
📩 Simblr question of the day: according to you, what are the most underutilized gameplay features in the sims games you played, dlc included? - @simblr-question-of-the-day
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Tired Dads bit-
AN: I polled HH for something from my hopefully list to write no pressure for as a reward for finishing 2 fics, this is what they voted for and what the result is!
-
“—and then he flew right off the bridge! Just, done talking with me and off he went. ‘Parently I sounded angry and he didn’t want to talk to me when I was like that— a certain bird told him he shouldn’t have to! Being fair that is true, he shouldn’t have talk to me if I’m having a mare. He doesn’t have to put up with anyone’s anger, but I wasn’t angry! I was just… I was just…”
“Scared?” Bruce suggested when John couldn’t bring himself to say the word.
Bruce was lounging in the dark leather armchair, actually lounging too. It was the most relaxed that John had ever seen Bruce. His long legs were spread wide and stretched out over the opulent carpet, feet clad in nothing but socks. One arm was draped carelessly over the arm of the seat, the other rested the crystal glass of deep, amber whiskey against his temple. It ruffled his dark hair slightly.
John swallowed and looked away for more than one reason. “Yeah mate, scared. You’re lucky your brood can’t fly.”
Bruce snorted inelegantly.
“Fuck off,” John said, “you are.”
“No I’m not,” Bruce said, voice low and soft, “because that means they can fall.”
“Oh, that’s…” John swallowed a mouthful of his own whiskey. “Yeah, that is worse.”
The clink of ice was loud in the resulting quiet.
Bruce was, fascinatingly, the one who broke it.
“Did I ever tell you how I got Dick? And don’t you dare say what’s running through your mind right now.”
John wisely snapped his mouth closed.
Bruce eyed him for a moment longer before his gaze drifted, unfocused, to the side. “I was at the circus of all places. Alfred keeps a list of events in Gotham for me to go to so that I’m not absent from the social sphere for too long. This circus had, among other things, a family of famous acrobats. That night was their son’s first public performance with them.”
“…fuck.”
“Yes,” Bruce said. That was one of the good things about Bruce, he never thought John was stupid. Foolish, reckless, and brash, sure, but not stupid. He knew that John already saw where this was going, but kept speaking anyways. Maybe he needed to tell it. “Their lines were sabotaged and the parents fell to their deaths. Dick watched the whole thing. I’ve spent every night that he flies with me afraid that I’ll watch him fall too.”
John rolled his glass between his hands, feeling the cut crystal press into his palms. “But you still let him go out.”
There was that snort again. “Because there’s no stopping him. He was meant to fly.” Bruce tossed back the rest of his drink, swallowing more money in booze in one mouthful than John had drank to get blackout drunk. “And your son was too.”
“Not my son.”
Bruce leaned forward, placing his glass down on the side table with a heavy clink. His rich blue eyes were piercing— serious in a way that John’s own ice blue never could manage. “You have to stop telling yourself that, John. If he wasn’t your son, you wouldn’t be so afraid.”
John scowled as he burred his face in his glass. It was easier than facing Bruce because Bruce, out of everyone, knew. “Fuck you.”
“I’m hardly drunk enough for that, John, especially from you.”
John choked on his drink, coughing down the expensive whiskey.
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I know an awful lot of propals have me blocked, so I’m going to ask that while this post should be reblogged, if you know you have significant inroads in goyische Tumblr, copy/pasting or screenshotting this would be great, because we need all hands on fucking deck.
So for those who don’t know: we’ll start with “a whole bunch of articles on Jewish history and identity on Wikipedia have been vandalized, including but not limited to removing mentions of individuals being Jewish and referring to Jewish holidays as Palestinian holidays, and making Jewish holiday pages deliberately vague with such things as ‘it may mean’ or ‘it could represent’ as though real actual living Jews couldn’t tell you what it does or doesn’t mean.”
Next: the same thing started happening to articles about North American indigenous and First Nations people. When I say “the same thing,” I mean I actually contacted the person who brought this to my attention to be like “could these be linked? Because some of this verbiage sounds IDENTICAL.” And little surprise there, because guess what, at least two of the editors involved have been found across both sets of edits.
So at first I assumed this must be a group with some weird hate-on for indigenous groups.
BUT GUESS WHAT I FUCKING FOUND YESTERDAY.
I was on Marsha P. Johnson’s article doing some research for a Pride event, and someone has gone through the entire page replacing her pronouns with they/them.
Marsha used she/her pronouns. The Marsha P. Johnson Institute refers to her with she/her pronouns. Someone has decided that because she was gender nonconforming and called herself “a boy and a queen,” her pronouns should be what they feel are correct—not the ones she actually picked for herself.
They came for the Jews, they came for the North American indigenous groups, now they’re coming for the queers, WE NEED TO FUCKING TAKE WIKIPEDIA BACK.
I cannot encourage you strongly enough to become an editor. You don’t have to write entire articles (although you can). You can do cleanup, you can re-insert appropriate references, you can add sources. There are editing guides to help you and if you’re going “there are SO MANY ARTICLES, I don’t know where to start,” just hit the random article button and start fact-checking.
We cannot allow a group of five or six people to monopolize our identities and manipulate them as they see fit.
FIGHT BACK.
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Stolas and Blitz’s relationship is a really well written misunderstanding plot, and here’s why
I didn’t exactly have bad expectations about the Full Moon episode, yet I find myself pleasantly surprised by just how well the show handled the final confrontation between Stolas and Blitz. It was perfectly tragic and, most importantly, it perfectly fits how their relationship was built up to this point.
But how did Stolas get to this point?
Stolas has been starved for love since he was a child. His father only knew how to buy Stolas’ stuff to distract him from his distress (whenever Paimon bothered to even be around). Stolas’ wife – whom he did not choose – disdained him and did not miss a chance to humiliate him. He used to have a good relationship with his daughter, even though things got more complicated as she grew up and started to realize that her parents hate each other; but having your own child love you isn’t the same as having someone love you because you are you.
And then, out of nowhere, This Guy whom he considers his first friend - someone who was at the center of one of the best memories from his childhood - sneaks into his house and tries to seduce him!! Needless to say, Stolas is taken by surprise!
He even tries to talk to Blitz at first, and asks him about his life. He wants a connection, but Blitz just kinda pushes Stolas on his bed and starts doing sexy things to him, while dodging his questions. And, well, Stolas has never had good sex before that moment! His only experience is with a woman who does not like him and whom he doesn’t like. He gets swept away! Turns out, kinky sex really does it for him, and Blitz just Keeps Going all night!
Now, we don’t get to see how Stolas reacted when he figured out that Blitz was there to steal his book. The next thing we know (which is actually the first time the audience is introduced to Stolas) is that he is determined not to let that night with Blitz be the last. And who knows, even if Blitz had an ulterior motive for that first night, Stolas could still have a chance to seduce him! But how to do that? Well, the only thing Stolas knows about Blitz is that he really seemed to be into kinky sex and dirty talk…. So, Stolas goes for that!
After a while, though, he realizes it isn’t working. Plus, as much as the sex is good, what he really wants from Blitz is romance! So, he tries changing his approach, he introduces the idea of dates, of staying at home without fucking… But every time Stolas tries to change things, Blitz is resistant.
Stolas has many flaws. He is unaware of his privilege, he can be entitled, too self-centered… but one thing he is not, at least, is clueless about his own feelings. Stolas knows he loves Blitz, he knows he wants them to be together, and so he spends a long time trying to figure out how to confess, how to convince Blitz that his feelings are sincere…
In a way, it’s all that planning that dooms him. He spends so much time thinking things over, finding the perfect words, the perfect selfless act to confess to Blitz and set him free, that he does not realize that his confession will come out of nowhere for Blitz. And that Blitz will not have had hours and hours to rehearse his own reaction!
To be fair to him, Blitz truly is spectacularly clueless – to the level that it’s difficult to understand, without knowing his history - when it comes to his own feelings…
Right, how did Blitz get to this point?
The first time Blitz met Stolas, as a child, Blitz’s father had literally sold him as entertainment, and then ordered Blitz to steal from Stolas' house. “Go make yourself useful for once.” “It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve.”
Blitz grows up in an environment where his own father prefers another child to him. His only worth to his dad is to be a trading card, and to be an instrument to get rich.
Blitz doesn’t grow completely without love, tho! He knows what it is like to be loved. He has a best friend, his twin sister, his mother… And then he manages to lose all three of them in one single, spectacular accident. And it was an accident! But it was also his fault. And that’s the night Blitz learns that nobody can love him for long, because he does not deserve it. Even if someone did care for him, eventually they will realize he is worthless and dangerous.
Blitz hates himself.
Still, he does what he has to do to survive, and he goes on.
Years pass, and Blitz is trying to achieve his oldest dream, the dream to be his own boss, to lead a successful business, to prove that he can do something right. He needs Stolas’ book to achieve his dream, so what? It’s what those rich privileged fuckers deserve. He can make himself useful for once.
Does Blitz understand that it’s not Stolas himself who bought him all those years ago, but rather his father? It doesn’t really matter in the end, the only thing that’s important is that he knows that if he distracts Stolas enough, it’s not that hard to steal from him. If he sells himself, he can get anything out of Stolas.
The sex an accident, in the end. Stolas suggests Blitz is there to seduce him (Stolas is joking, but Blitz doesn't realize that), so Blitz goes for that. He bites Stolas’ neck to distract him from the theft, and Stolas reacts to that! Blitz can use this! He just happens to encourage Stolas when Stolas talks dirty to him, he doesn’t know he’s the one planting the idea in Stolas’ brain.
And Blitz could leave Stolas tied up and flee with the book, but at the end he feels bad. He decides to fuck Stolas after all, and well… That wasn’t so bad. He was supposed to do it “real fast”, but ends up spending the whole night!
Still, what if the sex was good? Stolas is still an entitled and powerful prince. And Stolas’ behavior in the following months only confirms that the other demon is just using him! And when Stolas’ actions start to change, well, surely that’s just some new kink, some new game…
Blitz constantly confirms his own biases, and he is incapable of seeing beyond them. He expects to be used because he has been used so many times, ever since he was a child. He doesn’t expect to be loved, because he doesn’t believe anyone can love him.
And if he starts to enjoy the time he spends with Stolas, at least sometimes, well….. That’s just the good sex. Plus, he feels powerful, when he’s fucking Stolas. Not only because Blitz dominates him in bed, but also because this is an arrangement he entered of his own free will, and he’s the one directly benefiting from it.
And! Isn’t it easier this way??? Relationships are messy! This arrangement, tho, no feelings involved, at all! He can push Stolas around as much as he wants, and Stolas will let him.
(Stolas cannot get hurt, after all.)
(He can get hurt??)
Blitz has many flaws. Being clueless about his feelings, and other people’s feelings, is maybe his biggest flaw. Stolas’ confession comes out of nowhere from him. He is confused. Nobody can love him, so it is a game, right?
It’s not a game. Where did this “confession” come from? He’s mad now. Stolas broke the rules, Stolas is using him again, somehow, Stolas… Stolas is crying.
It’s not a trick.
Their whole relationship has been a huge misunderstanding since day 1, and Blitz only just realized.
And Stolas sent Blitz away before he had time to realize, as well.
#a lot of feelings and thoughs about Them#helluva boss#helluva boss spoilers#blitzø#helluva blitz#stolas#helluva stolas#stolitz#full moon#stolas x blitz#full moon spoilers
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arguing with carmen and its big enough where you leave for the night but what’s even scarier to him is that you also took teddy
he'd have an actual psychotic break, nervous breakdown.
especially bc i'm picturing him reverting back to his old ways. it's rare, but he slips into a full carmy (in the lock in) level meltdown. gets unbalanced and spirals further and further, and you just happen to be who he takes it out on.
screaming at you like a maniac over something stupid- you didn't wash his spare whites (he didn't tell you they needed to be washed). it's his fault, he knows it deep down, still he's losing his shit because it's the final straw.
"you stay at home all day! all fucking day and you can't do one thing!" carmen's red faced, screaming.
you're shocked, scared, on the brink of sobbing yourself. teddy's woke up from her nap, his screaming startled her. the newborn wailing from her nursery.
"carmen, you didn't tell me-"
"-i shouldn't have to!" carmen roars. "you're home all day-"
"-i'm on maternity leave. i just had a baby-"
"-oh, so. you can't do one fuckin' thing now? i have to do it all here too?" carmen is spiraling, pacing, running a hand down his face. "i get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then i come home so i can go back and work my ass off some more, and you can't help me out?"
his words sting, shock you with the weight of them. swallowing back tears, you turn, climbing the stairs to the bedroom.
carmen is scoffing, hands shaking with rage and annoyance and just overwhelmed. your ignoring him stings. makes him spiral even more. "don't go do it now! it's too late!" carmen scoffs. "i've got a fuckin' critic coming in two hours, and i'll wear stained whites. probably get a shitty review about our food being gross an-and the chef being just as bad!"
you texted pete through your tears, telling him that you were coming to stay there for a while. shoving clothes for the night in your small bag quickly, hands shaking when you zipped it up, your wedding ring flashing at you. you stared at it, a wave of tears coming over you, screwing the ring off your finger and setting it on carmen's night stand next to a photo of you two on your honeymoon.
you packed teddy and anchovy's things quickly, knowing you'd come back tomorrow to get what else you needed. just the essentials, to get through the night. anchovy in his carrier, and teddy in her's, you ignored carmen's pacing, his deep breaths and clenched eyes, walking straight to the garage.
carmen looked up at the sound of the door, standing quickly. a damning rush of horror, of realization washed over him, pulled him right out of his clouded tantrum.
"w-what- what are you- hey, what-" carmen runs towards the car door, where you're putting teddy's car seat into place, shushing the wailing girl gently.
"-don't fucking touch me." you sneer, teeth bared in primal rage, pure protectiveness.
"baby, wait, wait, ju-just hold on. where're you- hey, don't- where're you goin'?" carmen's frantic, eyes wide, stomach churning.
you shut the car door, moving past him without looking to get to the driver's side. "no, no, no, no, no. don't-baby please, don't. i-i-i'm sorry. i'm sorry!" carmen's stuttering in fear, hands shaking trying to hold the door open, keep you from shutting it.
"let go." you growl, yanking the door. "you're not going to talk to me like that, carmen. i don't care if you're stressed, i don't care. you're not going to come home and talk to me like that because you fucked up. not when i've been at home all day taking care of our- my child."
carmen feels dizzy, mouth filling with spit, sure he's about to throw up.
you slam the door, eyes watery and red and angry, glaring at him before pulling out of the driveway.
carmen's left alone in the garage, knees weak, hands shaking. his ears are ringing, head spinning, sure that he's hallucinating- that this has to be a sick sick dream. floods of realization icy through his veins.
the house is eerily quiet, so still. no teddy, no anchovy, no you.
he isn't sure how long he sits in the garage, the sun sinking in the horizon, but he stays motionless and still. richie shows up eventually, frantic and wide eyed.
"cousin! what the fuck? dinner service started a fuckin' hour ago, and we-" he stops, slowing his stride when he gets closer. carmen's vacant gaze, trembling hands.
"hey, carm, what's goin' on? you-you alright?" richie's voice dropped low and slow, like he used to with mikey. "carmen. hey, what's-"
"-she left." carmen whispered, his eyes wide in horror. "she-she left and she took t-teddy." carmen breaks, a sob choking out of his throat.
"why? why did she-" richie stops, looking at carmen. "carmen, what did you do?"
carmen sobs- no, wails. broken and terrified and horrified. full chest sobs that are more like screams. the realization of what he had done, what he had said, feeling the full weight of the consequences of his actions for the first time.
#thebearer#bearblahs#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto x reader#the bear#carmy berzatto#dad!carmen berzatto#dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader#carmen berzatto angst
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moth to a flame- m. sturniolo
pairing: matt sturniolo x reader
summary: you and matt have hated each other since you were kids, you two constantly bickering and arguing. however, there has always been an underlying tension, but you and matt have always chosen to ignore it. yet, the unspoken tension begins to break when another guy takes an interest in you.
warnings: language, angst, smut, oral (male receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), fluff, cheating (don’t do this either pls), nick once again being a g
masterlist
lowercase intended
a/n: does the smut suck? yes probably but it’s okay 😌
“you have a date? how much did you pay him?” matt asks you, a snark evident in his tone. you roll your eyes at his comment. “guys find me very likable, thank you very much.” you retort. “oh i’m sure.” he scoffs. “can you just shut the hell up?” you snap, looking into the eyes of the boy you’ve hated since freshman year.
you met the triplets when you moved to boston in the ninth grade. you shared a class with nick, and you two quickly hit it off. he then introduced you to his two brothers, matt and chris. chris was super sweet and welcoming towards you, but matt was the complete opposite. he barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was to make some snide remark. at first, you let it slide, thinking he was just uncomfortable around new people, but the mean comments never subsided, so one day, you snapped back at him, much to his surprise. thus began the endless fighting and screaming matches between the both of you. it got so bad that nick and chris wouldn’t allow you two alone in the same room out of fear that you might kill each other. you two found ways to argue about anything, even things as stupid as what the best soda is.
although you hate matt with every fiber in your being, you still love nick and chris as if they were your own brothers, and they obviously felt the same. when their youtube channel first blew up, you were always by their side to support them. eventually, they decided they were going to move to los angeles, and they asked you to go with them. you immediately accepted because the course you wanted to study in college had great programs in los angeles.
you’re currently in the triplets’ apartment, telling them about the most recent development in your life: you got a date. “y/n, just ignore matt.” nick interrupts yours and matt’s squabble. “so, what’s his name? how did you meet him?” nick asks excitedly. “well, his name’s blake and we met at the coffee shop on campus.” you smile. matt rolls his eyes. “blake? the guy sounds like a douchebag.” “and you would know all about douchebags wouldn’t you?” you ask with a false sweetness in your voice. “what the hell is that supposed to mean? you saying i’m a douchebag?” matt narrows his eyes at you. “if the shoe fits.” you shrug. “okay can you guys not for like two seconds?” chris asks. you raise your hands up in surrender, “fine but he started it.” “sure blame me for everything.” matt says sarcastically. “fuck off.” you reply. “guys seriously, stop.” nick tells you sternly. “anyway where are you and blake going?” chris asks, trying to lessen the tension between you and matt. “we’re going to this restaurant down the street from my apartment. it’s pretty nice actually.” you tell him, smiling slightly. you then stand up and grab your car keys. “i’m gonna go get ready, and i’ll tell you guys all about it after.” “you better!” nick yells out after you as you walk out the door towards your car.
nick watches you leave, then turns to matt, “we need to talk.” matt raises an eyebrow, “okay…” he says hesitantly, setting down his phone. “what the fuck is up with you and y/n?” “what do you mean?” matt asks. “you two have been at each other’s throats for years! it’s so exhausting watching you two constantly fight over dumb shit!” nick yells at him. “what about her? why is she not included in this conversation?” he retorts. “because you started this shit! you were awful to her when you first met! this whole situation could have been avoided if you were man enough to tell her you like her!” matt’s taken aback by nick’s outburst. “tell her what?” he asks, hoping he heard his brother wrong. “come on matt, it’s obvious that you like her.” nick deadpans. “you’re kidding right? she’s disgusting, and not to mention, a total bitch. how you guys tolerate her shit, i’ll never know, but i sure as hell won’t.” matt rants. “okay matt, whatever you need to tell yourself.” chris adds, rolling his eyes. “you agree with nick? seriously?” matt turns to the youngest triplet. chris just shrugs, “i mean, yeah. i might be an idiot, but even i can tell that you like her.” matt scoffs, “fuck you guys. i’m going for a drive. i’ll be back later.” he stands up and grabs his keys. he then walks out the front door, making sure to slam it shut.
matt gets into his car and begins to drive, not knowing where to go. during his drive, thoughts of you begin to invade matt’s head. there is absolutely no way he likes you. you’re annoying, you’re stubborn, and you’re just so insufferable to be around. sure, you’re conventionally attractive, but that doesn’t mean anything, it actually pisses matt off more because he doesn’t understand how such a pretty face could have such an awful personality paired with it.
after driving for a while, an idea pops into matt’s head. matt knows you well enough to know which restaurant you would go to because it was always one of your favorites. he begins to drive that way and plots what he’s going to do once he gets there. after a few moments of contemplating, he decides to just sit a couple of tables away from you and your date, just to make you uncomfortable and on edge.
he arrives at the restaurant and walks in through the large glass doors at the front of the building. the moment he walks in, he can spot you and blake in the back. you’re laughing at something he said, and an unfamiliar feeling began to pool in the pit of matt’s stomach. his thoughts are cut off by the hostess coming up to the stand, “how many?” she asks. “umm just one, and is there any way i can get a table back there?” he points to where you’re sitting. “of course. follow me.” she smiles as she begins to walk towards the your table, matt following close behind. “here you are, sir.” the hostess sets the menu down on the table before walking away. he sits down and looks at the menu, waiting for you to notice his presence.
as you’re talking to blake, you notice a familiar head of hair out of the corner of your eye. you look over an see matt sitting diagonally across from your table. your eyes widen when your eyes meet his. what the fuck is he doing here? you try your best to ignore him, but you can see him continuously glancing at you. blake notices you looking over to your right. “are you okay, y/n? is something wrong?” he asks. your eyes snap back to his. “no i thought i saw something, but i didn’t.” blake just shrugs and continues talking. you try to listen to his words, but you can’t. your mind constantly drifts back to the brown-haired boy sitting to your right.
after a couple hours, and some very awkward glances to matt, your date finally ends. you and blake bid each other goodnight before you walk back to your car. you see matt walking to his own car and you send him with a death glare, to which he just responds with a cocky smile. you wait for him to drive out of the parking lot, and once he does, you follow him home, wanting answers as to why he thought it was a good idea to crash your date.
as he pulls into his garage, you park on the street. you turn your engine off and get out of the car, storming through the front door, where you see matt standing in the kitchen. you walk over to him and slam your purse down on the counter.
“why do you feel the need to ruin every good thing that comes my way? what do you have to gain from that?” you ask matt frustratedly. “i don’t ruin every good thing. i just wanted to make sure he’s good for you.” he replies nonchalantly. “that’s not for you to decide matthew!” you yell, moving closer to him. “y/n, you just need to trust me.” his calmness is pissing you off even more. “but i don’t trust you! all you’ve done since we met is berate me and talk shit about me! how can i trust your words when i can’t even trust you?!” you begin to wave your arms frantically. “look,” he begins, “i know guys like that and i just-” “guys like what matt? guys like you?” you ask accusingly. “no. guys that will treat a girl right until they get into her pants and then leave once they get what they want.” you scoff at his words. who does he think he is? “you don’t know what you’re talking about. did he say something to make you believe he’s like that?” matt averts his gaze to the floor. “no, but i have a feeling.” you laugh, not believing the words that are leaving his mouth. “a feeling? so you just made it up.” he looks back up at you. “god, i didn’t make it up y/n! stop being so naive and open your fucking eyes!” matt begins to raise his voice. “you are such a fucking asshole! you have no right to stick your nose in my love life! just because no one wants you doesn’t mean you get project that onto me!” you yell in his face, seething with rage. matt’s face turns cold, his eyes boring into yours with a look you can’t make out. he remains silent for a few seconds. “what no snarky comment? did i hit a sore spot? it’s so pathetic that you’re so insecure that you feel the need to-” you’re cut off by a pair of lips smashing against yours. your eyes widen and you can feel yourself almost melting into the kiss before you realize who it is you’re kissing. you quickly shove him backwards, and matt stumbles a little. you look into his eyes, the both of you saying nothing. you don’t know what comes over you, but before you can think it through, you take a step forward, grab the back of his neck, and press your lips against matt’s once again. the kiss is rough, teeth and tongues clashing together.
matt’s kisses begin to fall from your lips to your neck, biting and sucking as he goes further and further down. “matt” you moan breathlessly. “what is it baby?” he asks in a husky voice and you could cum from just the sound of his voice. “we should go to your room.” you say between small moans. you can feel him nod against the crook of your neck as he put his hand under your ass to pick you up. you immediately wrap your legs around his waist as he begins to walk towards his room. you get into his room and he sits down on the edge of his bed, so now you’re in his lap.
matt removes his head from your collarbone and he finds your lips again. you subconsciously begin to move your hips against his, a soft groan leaving his lips and you can feel yourself clench at the noise. matt’s hands slowly trail up your back and you can feel his right hand grip your hair. he gives it a quick but firm tug, pulling your head back which gives him the opportunity to attack your jawline. “matt please.” you breathe out, needing his touch. “what do you want, baby?” he asks, knowing damn well what you want. “i need you.” he looks up at you with a smirk on his face. “yeah? then show me how bad you need me.” you feel his grip on you relax slightly, so you get off his lap and drop to your knees. your eyes immediately find the large tent in his sweats. you can feel your mouth water with desire.
you grab his dick through his pants and matt lets out a light gasp. “don’t tease me baby.” you bite your lip and tug his sweatpants down to his thighs, his extremely hard dick slapping against his stomach. you wrap your hand around his base and begin to stroke him up and down. you then bring your lip to his tip, giving it a few kitten licks. matt’s hand finds your hair and forces himself down your throat. you feel your eyes begin to water as you find your rhythm. you continue to bob your head up and down and pump what you can’t fit in your mouth. “fuckkk” matt moans, his hand tightly gripping your hair. “i’m gonna cum baby.” you quicken your pace and you can feel your cunt dripping, making a mess between your thighs. matt’s groans become louder and louder as he feels himself getting closer. his dick twitches in your mouth and you still your movements, feeling his thick ropes of cum hitting the back of your throat. you swallow every drop before pulling off him, both of you panting and trying to catch your breath.
“fuck that was so good.” he praises you as he grabs your hands and leads you back onto the bed. he flips the two of you around so now he’s on top of you. “you’re such a good girl for me.” he says before he kisses you again. he bites your bottom lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth. you can feel his dick sliding up and down your clothed cunt. “please fuck me matt.” you whine against his lips. “patience baby.” he demands. his hands find the waistband of your pants, yanking them down so your bottom half is only covered by your thin panties. he looks down and sees the wet patch that covers the bottom of them. “holy fuck you’re soaked. you really liked sucking me off that much, huh?” he then gets up on his knees and takes his shirt off, revealing his toned stomach, and you can somehow feel yourself become wetter. “how bad do you want me?” he asks you cockily. “so bad matty. please fuck me.” he chuckles, “so needy.” he then lines himself up to your leaking hole, swiping his tip against your clit a few times before sliding himself inside you slowly. you let out a loud moan and he covers your mouth. “shhh baby. we don’t want nick or chris to hear how good i’m making feel do we?” you shake your head as he continues to rut his hips into yours. he removes his hand from your mouth and it soon finds its place on your throat. “fuck you’re so fucking tight. oh my god.” he throws his head back in pleasure as you moan out his name. “you’re such a little slut for me aren’t you? you like it when i fuck you like this?” he smirks down at you, admiring the way your jaw was slack and your eyes rolled back. he tightens his grip around your neck as a warning, “answer me or i’ll stop.” “fuck yes matt i love it.” you moan out. he takes his hand off your neck and trails it down to your clit. he begins to rub it in small, tight circles and you can feel the coil in your stomach begin to form.
“fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum soon.” he picks up his pace, going harder as his hand rubs your clit faster. you can feel yourself begin to clench around him, matt starting to let out broken moans at the sensation. “you gonna cum baby?” you nod, on the verge of cumming around him. “give it to me baby. cum on my dick.” he urges. at his words, you let go, letting out a loud and long moan as you release around his dick. matt’s pace begins to falter as he feels himself about to fall apart too. “where do you want it baby?” “inside me please.” you beg. he twitches inside of you and you can feel him cumming inside you, painting your swollen walls white as he lets out a groan of your name. he stills inside you for a few seconds before pulling out. he gets up from the bed and walks to his bathroom. you feel the sink run and turn off and he returns to the bed with a damp towel. he begins to clean you up a bit before tossing the towel to the side. he crawls towards you and lies down next you, pulling you into his arms.
you both lie in his bed for a few more minutes before you speak up. “this can’t happen again.” matt turns to look at you, “why not?” he questions. “i don’t want to hurt blake. he’s a good guy.” matt scoffs. “sure he is.” he says, sarcasm evident in his tone. “you don’t even know him matt.” you try to reason. “i don’t need to know the guy to know he’s an asshole. his name’s blake, and that says enough.” you roll your eyes at his childish behavior. “okay matt whatever.” you pull the covers off your body and you begin to put your clothes back on. matt grabs your arms and spins you around to face him. he looks into your eyes for a few moments before crashing his lips against yours. you want to pull away, but you can’t. the kiss becomes more and more heated as he backs you up until you’re both lying on the bed with him on top of you. “this is the last time.” you demand, knowing that’s probably a lie. “no it’s not.” he says against your lips as he begins to trail kisses down your neck.
weeks pass by, and you and matt are still hooking up. because of this, you’ve become more tolerant towards each other. you don’t necessarily like one another, but you can at least go a day without arguing. nick and chris begin to notice the change in dynamic between the both of you. they don’t ask questions because they’re just happy you all can hang out without the two of them being caught in the middle of one of your petty arguments.
much to matt’s dismay however, blake is still in the picture. you haven’t become official with him yet, but you both have gone on many more dates and even kissed a few times. of course, you felt bad for lying to blake, but what are you supposed to do? you just can’t escape matt. you’re a moth to his flame. you’ve come so close to breaking it off with matt, but each time you fail, somehow always ending up naked in his bed.
this is one of those times. you came over to the boys’ apartment to break it off with matt, but of course, you couldn’t. instead, you’re pinned against the wall of his bedroom. “matt we can’t keep doing this.” you breathe out against his lips. “doing what?” he asks, backing away and raising one eyebrow. “hating each other in public and fucking in private. i can’t do that to blake.” you try to reason with him, but matt simply rolls his eyes. “then just end things with him. i told you he isn’t good for you.” “he’s a good guy, matt.” you reply. matt takes a step closer to you, “well, if he’s such a good guy, then why are you here? why aren’t you with him?” he asks, knowing the answer. you look down and shake your head, “i don’t know. i shouldn’t be here. i should go.” you grab your purse from the counter and swing it over your shoulder, but before you can walk towards the door, matt grabs your wrist. “wait, don’t go.” you turn towards him, “why not?” there’s a few seconds of silence before matt answers your question. “i don’t want you to.” “okay.” you concede.
about a week later, you get a text from blake, asking you to go over to his apartment. you get into your car and drive to his place. you get out and walk up to his door, knocking twice. he open the door with a smile on his face, and it fills you with guilt. he invites you in and sits you down on his couch. “so i invited you here because i wanted to ask you something.” he begins. you nod, nervous for what he’s about to say. “i wanted to know if you would be my girlfriend.” he asks hopefully. you sigh softly and look down. you can’t hold it in any longer. you can’t keep lying to the poor guy. “look, you’re an amazing guy, don’t get me wrong, but i can’t” you tell him. his smile drops instantly. “oh. can i ask why. i thought we were doing good.” “i’m just not ready to be in a serious relationship. i thought i was, but now i know i’m not.” it’s not totally a lie. you’re not ready for a relationship with someone that isn’t matt. “okay i understand.” he says sadly. “i think i should leave. i’m so sorry blake, but i know you’ll find someone as great as you are.” you smile to try and lift the mood. he just nods while staring at the ground. you stand up from his couch and walk out the door, wracked with guilt.
you get in your car and drive to the triplets’ apartment, needing to talk to matt. you have to tell him how you feel. you arrive at their apartment and place your car in park. you walk up to the door and knock. you wait for a few seconds before the door opens, revealing matt. “hi.” you break the silence. “what’s up? you need something?” he inquires. “i actually need to talk to you.” you can feel butterflies in your stomach as you rock back and forth on your feet. “ummm okay come in.” he motions for you to enter the apartment. you walk inside and matt closes the door behind you. you both stand in the living room and you set your keys and phone down on their counter. he stands there, waiting for you to speak.
“i broke up with him” you break the silence. “what? why?” matt questions, his head immediately perking up. “you were right. he wasn’t good for me.” he scoffs, “well no shit. what does that have to do with me?” “i also broke up with him because i realized something.” are you really about to do this? are you really about to confess your feelings to the boy you’ve hated for years? matt gives you a look, telling you to go on. “i know we’ve always hated each other, but since we started sleeping together, i realized that i don’t want blake. i want you, and not just in a sexual way. i want to actually be with you.” you take a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding, waiting anxiously for his response, but he says nothing. “matt? please say something.” matt looks down at the floor and shakes his head slightly. “i can’t, y/n.” he says softly. “can’t what?” you’re confused now. what the hell does that mean? “i can’t be with you.” your heart drops. “why not?” you ask. “i… i just can’t.” you’re start to become irritated at his words. “what can’t you do matt?!” “i can’t give you what you want. you want to date and do couple-y stuff and i can’t do that.” his gaze remains on the floor. “so i’m good enough to fuck, but not good enough to date?” you ask condescendingly. “that’s not what i’m saying, i just-” “you just what matt?! what is so awful about being in a relationship?!” you begin to yell. “i don’t do relationships! the fact that you’re whining and screaming about it is the reason i don’t! you’re being fucking dramatic and i’m sick of it! we’re not dating and we’re never going to so just accept it and stop being so fucking clingy!” he yells back at you. your jaw drops to the floor at his words. “fuck you matthew. don’t text me again.” you walk towards the front door, making sure to bump his shoulder on the way out. you open the door and slam it shut, shaking the walls of the apartment.
hearing the commotion, chris and nick walk downstairs into the living room. “what the hell happened?” nick asks. “nothing happened. she’s just being a bitch as usual.” matt replies, rubbing his temples. “what did you say to her?” nick sighs, knowing you’d never react that way unless matt said something really fucked up. “i don’t wanna talk about it.” nick scoffs. “well too bad. if i just lost my best friend because of you then we’re gonna talk about it.” nick and chris drag matt over to the couch and sit down. matt sighs and begins to explain everything that happened between the two of you. “why would you say something like that to her?” chris asks him, disappointed in his older brother. “i told you, i’m not a relationship guy.” nick looks at him with a look of worry. “but do you like her?” matt looks at him and nods. “then tell her that you dumb fuck! you just broke her heart for no reason!” he yells in matt’s face. “look, i can’t do this right now. i’m going to bed.” matt sighs softly as he walks out of the room.
as soon as matt gets into his room, he shuts the door, lying down in his bed. his mind is racing with thoughts of you. nick was right. he should have told you that he wanted to date you too, but he was too much of a pussy to actually say it, so he hurt you instead. matt knows you’re probably still mad at him and would slam the door in his face if he went over to your house now, so he decides to wait a day or two. after contemplating it, matt walks over to nick’s room and opens the door, knowing he needs help getting you back. “how do i win her back nick?” he sits down on his brother’s bed. “look, i don’t know if she would take you back for sure, but what you need to do is give her a heartfelt apology and tell her how you feel. that’s your best bet.” matt nods, taking in everything he says. “and flowers. get her some flowers.” “i’ll go over there tomorrow.” matt states. “good because if i lose my best friend, i’ll actually kill you.” nick says with a glare.
the next day, matt woke up ready to prove to you that he wants to be your boyfriend. however, the anxiety was pooling in his stomach. what if you didn’t want him? what if you went back to blake? he tried to push those thoughts out of his mind, but they still lingered.
once he gathered the courage, he got up out of bed, throwing on a sweater and some jeans. he looks at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair until it looks presentable enough. matt throws on his shoes and grabbing his keys. he begins to walk towards the front door when he passes by nick on the couch. “good luck matt.” nick tells him. matt just nods and walks out the door towards his minivan.
on the way to your house, he stops by a flower stand and gets you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, hoping that it’s enough for you to forgive him. as he speeds toward your house, matt’s mind is going a million miles a minute. he’s continuously going over what he’s going to say to you in his head. his thoughts are cut off by him arriving at your apartment. matt looks at himself in the mirror once more before grabbing the flowers and stepping out of the car.
matt walked up to your front door and took a deep breath before knocking. he waited a few seconds then the door swung open, revealing you. your hair looks disheveled and your eyes puffy. “what are you doing here?” you cross your arms at the boy. “i’m sorry y/n. i’m so sorry.” he holds out the flowers for you to take. you grab them hesitantly and turn around to put them in a vase. matt follows you inside towards your kitchen. “so are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here or can you leave now?” you ask, a harsh tone in your voice. matt sighs, “you were right. i’m an asshole. i never should have said those things to you. i was just so scared.” you tilt your head to the side. “scared? of what?” “what i feel for you, what i’ve felt for you since i met you, it’s unlike anything i’ve felt before. i’ve been in love with you for years, and i was too fucking stupid to tell you. i’m sorry for everything i’ve done to you over the years. you didn’t deserve any of it.” you can see matt’s eyes start to become glossy as you step towards him. “what changed all of a sudden? last night you were dead set on not being with me, but now you do? that doesn’t make any sense matt.” you tell him, still skeptical. “nick and chris laid into me last night. they made me realize that i hurt you for no reason and that i was being selfish. i told you i didn’t want to be with you, but it was a lie. being with you is all i’ve ever wanted and when it was right in front of me i panicked. i know that i probably fucked everything up, but please, if there’s any part of you that can forgive me, please give me one more chance. let me prove to you that i can be the man you deserve.” you take a deep breath, tears beginning to invade your waterline. you want to tell him off so bad. you want to tell him that you would never take him back, but you can’t. before you can overthink it, you take a few steps towards matt and wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. “do you really mean it?” you ask him softly. “i mean it baby. i promise i’ll never hurt you again.” he pulls away and looks down at you with a small smile on his face. you reciprocate the smile as he begins to lean down. your lips brush against each other before he presses his lips against yours. the kiss isn’t like any other kiss you’ve shared before; it’s soft and sweet instead of hard and rough. you both break away and rest your forehead on his. “you’re so beautiful, y’know that?” you feel your face heat up and a smile forming on your face. “shut up.” you tell him before reaching up and kissing him once more.
#Spotify#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo x you#matt stuniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo imagine#matthew sturniolo smut#matthew sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo angst#matthew sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo fluff#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo#the sturniolo triplets
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I know they changed the scene from a kiss to a hug, and I'm assuming they already had all of the fallout filmed and couldn't change much of it, but I'm really annoyed with how they wrote the scene of Eddie explaining what happened to Buck. He was so vague that it sounded like he was just having some fun, sexy, dead wife roleplay that Chris walked in on. Maybe they cleared it up after, but as far as we’ve seen, Buck thinks Eddie was happily having sex with his dead wife’s doppelganger. “What wasn’t happening between you two ended up happening.”
No! It didn’t!
Kim—who intentionally cut her hair to look more like his dead wife—showed up at his home unannounced and pushed him into participating in surprise back alley therapy while he repeatedly asked her to stop!
Eddie was fully focused on Chris and drowning in guilt, and obviously not thinking very clearly in the moment. And his understanding of his own boundaries and that they matter is dicey on a good day. But that is such a fucked up thing to do to someone, and I really needed to have at least one person in that episode stop and say, “Wait, she did what?”
Are we going to circle back around to what actually happened next season, or will it get lost in the hiatus? Because after this season, I honestly can't tell whether it will eventually get addressed, or if it'll get dismissed as part of the fun Vertigo homage.
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as long as we're together (does it matter where we go?)
Summary: You don't want to be a burden to Bucky, knowing he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Pairing: Bucky x Female!OC
Genre: Angst
Length: 7.8k
Two years ago
“I don’t think I want to be with you anymore.”
Bucky had expected it. Weeks of you being distant, making secret phone calls, avoiding his touches like they physically hurt you. Countless times Bucky had asked, what's wrong?, only for you to shut him down and say that everything was fine. Bucky was sick of hearing that empty, meaningless mantra, but it didn’t mean that he reveled in your confession now.
Even though it didn't come as a surprise, it still felt like a punch to the gut. It physically winded him to hear those words leave your lips.
He wondered what he did wrong. He wondered where they went wrong. They were so in love, so wonderfully content in each other's company. You were his person. Steve had once told Bucky that he would find someone unexpectedly, when Bucky made an off-hand comment about how lucky he was to have met Peggy.
“You’ll find your Peggy.”
Things had been perfect. Or maybe Bucky had just been in denial, ignoring all the problems between you because he thought that his feelings for you triumphed over everything, no matter what hardships you may have been suffering from. How could he ever face the reality that you might actually leave in pursuit of something better?
Now, Bucky’s chest was tight with an indescribable feeling, both of you stood in your shared apartment. Your belongings stuffed into a black suitcase, Bucky’s heart in pieces on the hardwood floor.
He had expected it, but it didn't stop him from wanting to die.
"Why?" It was all he could ask. He wanted to know the reason, wanted to understand. Wanted to know if he could fix it. He was desperate to make you stay.
Bucky stared at your face. You looked so...indifferent. Unattached, in contrast to the woman he had met all those years ago. Where had the softness in your eyes gone? Why couldn’t you meet his pleading gaze, even now? At what point did your feelings for him start to fade, and was there anything he could have done to salvage it?
Your face was a blank slate, emotionless, and it made Bucky feel a truly troubling combination of sadness and anger. It was as if you had already said your goodbyes to their relationship, completely ready to move on whilst Bucky was still trying to process your words. You were ready to leave him behind to mourn.
“I don’t think we’re right for each other,” you had said quietly. “I don’t think we can give each other what we need.”
"Bullshit," Bucky said, his voice cracking. You grimaced ever so slightly at his tone, still unable to meet his eyes. "How can you say that?"
He took a step forward; you matched it with a retreating step, but with wide strides he seized your wrists. He silently willed you to say something which could somehow lessen the excruciating pain.
“Will you just look at me?”
He wanted so badly for you to meet his stare, to find some source of comfort within your eyes which usually held so much love for him.
Finally, you relented and lifted your head. They did not fill Bucky with any hope. You pressed your lips together firmly as he searched your face desperately for any sign of residual affection.
"We - we're in love. How can you say after all these years that we're not right for each other? For fuck's sake, will you just tell me what happened?"
"People change, Bucky," you said softly. The look on your face - was it sadness, or apathy? "We've become too distant."
"And whose fault is that?" Bucky released you then. He was so angry, wanting to elicit some sort of reaction from you, that he wanted to punch the wall beside them. It made him feel nauseous at how stoic you were now, like a piece of unyielding rock. He knew you hated it when he took his anger out physically. You had been the one to teach him how to manage his rage more constructively, to talk things out and use his words rather than his fists.
"Are you trying to say it's mine?" Your tone was sharp, finally demonstrating some emotion. "Are you saying that all those nights waiting for you to come back home, all those evenings alone whilst you stayed at the Tower, all those hours I spent staring at the four walls of this apartment were my fault?"
"You left me!" Bucky retorted, gritting his teeth. "You left me long before today! You think I haven't noticed? You can barely stand touching me. You're always on your phone, always texting, always out seeing your 'friends'," he said, making air quotes. "I asked Wanda, she said you haven't been meeting her or your other friends for weeks. Who's this 'friend’? Who the fuck is it that's so important that you can't spare any time for me, never mind your actual friends?"
A long, pregnant pause filled the air, an indecipherable mask on your face once more. Bucky’s eyes were wet, and if he hadn't been so angry, he would've seen the way your lower lip was trembling ever so slightly, the way it did whenever you were trying not to cry. It had been the biggest telltale sign for him over the years to know when you were upset and trying your best to hide it.
He was usually so good at reading you, but he was blinded with sadness.
"Fine," you said eventually, slicing the silence with a shaky exhale. "I'm seeing someone else."
You might as well have struck Bucky across the face.
Suspecting it and hearing the words fall from your lips were two different things. He physically reeled back in anguish as he stared at you. He took in the sight of his girlfriend in front of him, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. This was, without a doubt, the woman he had met five years ago. The woman he spent five years loving. The woman whom he recognized no longer.
"Why?" Bucky whispered, all the fight leaving his body. He physically seemed to sag, forehead creasing at all the other questions running through his mind, visions of you being touched and fucked by some faceless, nameless man.
You were almost pitiful in the way you looked at Bucky, and he hated it.
"I care for you, Bucky. But I’m not in love with you anymore. And I'm sorry I had to do this to you. Things just got out of control."
I’m not in love with you anymore.
You offered no further information, but he had stopped listening, anyway. The finality in your voice pierced him slowly, tortuously, through the heart. He barely moved when you took your suitcase and pulled it out behind you, out of their apartment. Out of his life.
The door slammed shut.
Present day
You are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Mercedes Knight & Samuel Wilson
Sam had become Bucky’s closest confidant in the past few years, and the latter had been a close witness as Sam met Mercedes ‘Misty’ Knight, a former NYPD officer who had somehow become roped into their crazy world. It was no surprise to Bucky when they announced their engagement just six months into dating.
Bucky found himself being pulled into their wedding planning discussions far too often. He tried to keep an amused smile at bay whilst listening into Misty and Sam’s wedding talk at the Tower. They were using one of the many conference rooms - a Knight-Wilson union was official business, Misty insisted.
"Are you bringing a date?" Misty asked suddenly in the middle of everything, the question directed at Bucky.
"Of course he's bringing a date," Sam smirked. "Heard things with Sharon are going well, right?"
Bucky smiled non-committedly, shrugging. "She's great." It didn’t go unnoticed by Sam that this didn’t quite answer his question.
"You two look good together," Misty offered. She glanced at her watch and widened her eyes theatrically, grabbing Sam’s hand. "Oh crap, we need to go meet with the wedding planner."
"But it feels like we just sat down," Sam complained.
"There's no rest for the bride and groom, Sam," Misty said, pulling her fiancé out of his seat as she waved goodbye at Bucky.
As soon as they departed, the smile on Bucky’s face dimmed. He was beyond happy for his two friends, he really was - but every couple he knew was a fresh reminder of his own failed love life.
Ever since you, he hadn't been in a long term relationship. Sharon is different, he told himself, and she was. They had been friends for a long time, and of course spent a lot of time together carrying out missions and the like. Over time, somehow, they had gotten closer, and one day Sharon had just asked him, “So when are you going to ask me out, Barnes?”
At that point, Bucky was still frequently thinking about you. Sharon had never met you before, but Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if she had heard stories about you from the others, since he had been notoriously affected by the breakup. Even though he was dealing with the aftershocks of the broken relationship, he was forcing himself to get past it.
They had been dating for two months now, and it only seemed right for Sharon to be his date at the wedding.
He had moved on. He was no longer the depressed, dark wreck he was when you left.
Sometimes it’s better to lie to yourself than to face the reality.
“You invited Bucky’s ex to the wedding?” Misty asked curiously.
“Uh, yeah. She’s not just his ex,” Sam explained gently. “She’s my friend too, and I haven’t seen her since she left town.”
"You told Bucky?"
"Nope," Sam snorted, shaking his head. "I can't. I don't think he'd turn up if I did. I want them both there on the day - I'm sure they can be civil for one night."
“I wonder how Bucky will react," his future wife pondered.
Sam shrugged. Not well, probably.
"What else can I do? I can’t not invite her, I really want her to be there. You never met her, so you don’t know, but she’s been through some shit.”
“I know, I know, you told me,” Misty said. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. Do you think she'll be okay seeing Bucky again? Especially if he'll be there with Sharon?"
"She said she can handle it. She would be happy to see that Bucky was happy. She was the one who practically begged me to encourage him to move on."
“Do you think he has?”
Sam paused, considering the question carefully.
“He has to.”
Several weeks later, Misty Knight and Sam Wilson were officially wed at the local registration office. The day was full of hugs, cacophonous laughter, friends and family, and Bucky watched with a wide beam on his face as he witnessed his friends glow. Those kinds of smiles were few and far between nowadays, but he was truly happy for once.
"They look so good together," Sharon murmured as hundreds of guests filled the hotel ballroom, the party commencing in full swing. The newlyweds were in the center of the room, Misty being twirled around wildly by a laughing Sam before his wife collapsed against his chest in fits of giggles, looking up into his eyes adoringly.
More and more people joined them on the dance floor after the conclusion of their official first dance.
"Barnes, would you like to dance?" Sharon asked suddenly with a smile, extending a hand.
Bucky chuckled, allowing her to take his hand and lead him out to the dance floor.
An hour passed, and Bucky had to truthfully say that he was enjoying himself, assisted by all the alcohol he had consumed. Sharon was draped all over him as they swayed to the music, and Bucky found himself appreciating the feel of her body against his all too much, the scent of her intoxicating. His hands felt the fabric of her silky, emerald green dress, buried his nose into Sharon's blonde hair, sighing softly as he tightened his grip on her waist.
Her perfume was strong and woodsy, like a forest. It irritated his nose ever so slightly. You had preferred a more subtle, floral perfume, one that smelt like sakura blossoms.
Sharon was more confident and seductive in the way she danced, whilst you used to always let yourself become putty in his arms, enjoying how he took the lead and managed to make you look like you knew how to dance despite your two left feet.
However, despite the differences, if Bucky closed his eyes and just tried a little harder, he think he could pretend that -
"Sorry to interrupt.”
Bucky pulled away from Sharon suddenly, and he turned to mock glare at Sam. "What do you want, Wilson?"
"Need to borrow you for a minute," Sam said, an undecipherable expression on his face. Bucky tried to see where Misty had disappeared off to, but saw no trace.
"Um, sure..." Bucky tried to read Sam’s face but gleaned nothing.
"I'll just go say hi to Natasha," Sharon said, giving Bucky’s forearm a squeeze before she disappeared.
Sam’s smile faded, and he caught Bucky’s arm in a vice grip. "I need to tell you something. Don't get mad, okay?"
"What?" Bucky scowled as Sam dragged him to the side of the room, weaving through the crowds of guests. "What good news starts with, ‘don’t get mad’? Are you gonna tell me you want to run out on Misty or something?" He joked.
Sam pulled him out through one of the open French doors which led to a pretty, outdoor stone balcony. He shut them behind him as Bucky continued to babble, a little tipsy from the champagne he'd had. "I gotta tell ya, if she asks me to kick your ass I will literally do so -”
"Bucky," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "She’s here." Meeting Bucky’s nonplussed eyes, your name rolled off Sam’s tongue in clarification.
He felt like the breath was sucked from his lungs as he stared back at Sam, who looked uncharacteristically anxious.
“What?" He asked hoarsely, instantly sobering up. “What do you mean?”
Chills were running through his body. The name he had avoided for years was suddenly causing him to feel breathless. How did you still have such an affect on him?
"She couldn't make it to the ceremony earlier today, but she just arrived."
"You - you invited her here? She’s here, now?"
"Yes," Sam replied, nodding. "I invited her.” He straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest almost defiantly.
Bucky was speechless for a moment, taking a step back and scoffing. He shook his head. “Do you remember what she did to me?”
“I'm sorry, Buck..."
Bucky suddenly laughed, startling Sam. His laugh was curt, humorless. "What are you sorry for? I'm over her, Sam. It was two years ago. I haven't seen her in two years. I don't care anymore," he said quickly. Too quickly.
"Listen -"
"Look, it's okay." Bucky raised his hands in small surrender. “You have the right to invite whoever you want. I’m not mad. But I just don’t want to be held accountable for whatever happens now.”
He turned and wrenched the French doors open with such force that the handle buckled slightly. The noise inside the ballroom spilled out to replace the painful silence on the balcony.
He disappeared inside before Sam could say anything else, and he tried to hide it, but Sam could clearly see that his hands were shaking as he marched inside.
For the next twenty minutes, Bucky found sanctuary in the restrooms. He stood inside the stall, trying to stop himself from mentally collapsing.
He didn’t know what was happening. He had never felt this overwhelming panic rush over him before, immobilizing him. Anger, sadness and yearning swirling inside a melting pot of emotions that was crippling him.
She was here. The woman he hadn't seen in two years, the woman who broke his heart, the woman who betrayed him, the woman who left him in tatters.
Your infidelity had had an unforeseen impact on him. When he first found out, he was devastated. Terrified of how you became someone he didn’t recognize - or had you always been someone capable of betraying him, just good at hiding it?
You had poisoned all the happy memories they had once shared. Bucky found himself recounting all the years you were together, micro-analyzing everything, wondering if there was a hidden lie behind it all.
That was one of the things which made him angriest. You turned all the beautiful years of your relationship into a lie. None of it was real, Bucky had told himself.
You crushed him.
Of his feelings, anger prevailed, slowly simmering to the surface, like a volcano about to erupt. How dare you walk back into his life like this? He would show you, Bucky thought with determination. He was over you. He had no reason to be angry, he thought bitterly, because you were nothing to him.
Just like Bucky was nothing to you.
When he emerged from the toilets, the first thing he did was find Sharon. She looked relieved to see him, although confusion was clear on her face as she eyed Bucky.
"Where have you been? Are you feeling okay?" She commented, brow furrowed with concern.
"I'm fine," Bucky assured her. "Have you seen Sam?"
Sharon pointed, puzzlement still painted across her face, and Bucky snapped round quickly.
And there you were.
It was as if you had never left. As if the past two years filled with Bucky trying to eradicate every memory and feeling he had for you had never happened, because as soon as Bucky’s eyes found you through the crowd, everything came collapsing back down on top of him like an avalanche. Suffocating.
You were still so beautiful, strikingly so. Like a burning beacon among the crowd, Bucky’s eyes found your face as easily as anything. For a second, he allowed himself to ignore anything except you, and how the sight of you still managed to take his breath away.
You looked thinner than he remembered, your face gaunt. Bucky frowned slightly at this acute observation and found himself wondering if you had been taking care of yourself.
"Barnes? You okay?"
Bucky registered Sharon shaking his arm, but his eyes remained fastened on yourself and Sam. Neither of you had spotted Bucky yet, who was rooted to the spot like a statue. Sam’s mouth was moving, words that Bucky couldn't hear escaping his mouth, but his expression was angry. Almost as if he was scolding you for something.
"I have to...I..." Bucky stumbled over his words, voice faint. He could feel those tendrils of anger slowly seizing him again, wisps at first, until they grew more and more potent by the second. He remembered every single thing he felt when you left him, and instead of trying to hold back the emotions, Bucky just saw red.
"Let me introduce you to someone," he said suddenly, his voice strained as he took Sharon's hand.
"You said you were better," Sam said, expression torn.
"I am," you lied, trying to put on a smile. Truth was, you were exhausted, just like how you always felt. The ballroom was so crowded and loud, and you just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep, which you would the moment you finished congratulating Sam and Misty. And perhaps, even though you didn't want to admit it, you wanted to catch a glimpse of Bucky, too.
"Look at you, you're -"
“Sam, please don’t,” you interrupted gently. “Just drop it, please? It’s your big day, I don’t want you to worry about anything else.”
Sam opened his mouth to talk, but stopped suddenly, his eyes flitting to look behind you.
"Hey."
You froze. You knew that voice, of course. Heard it enough times, the deep, gravelly voice that had once whispered sweet pet names, proclamations of love, and plagued your dreams ever since you left him.
You had longed to hear his voice again, hear your name being spoken lovingly. His voice was your favorite sound in the world. Except tonight, hearing it for the first time in two years, you heard nothing but ice.
"Bucky?" You turned slowly, and your breath hitched. He was just the way you remembered him. Even more handsome, if possible. Clad in a sleek black tux, tall and dark and sexy, everything you had missed and dreamed of, and...
He was holding another woman’s hand.
"Bucky," Sam repeated, voice tense. Bucky could hear the underlying warning.
"It's been a while," he said stiffly, acting as neutral as he could. As if he hadn't spent months after their terrible break up being a shell of who he used to be, barely repaired even now. Bucky felt like any other venomous words from your mouth would shatter him again, but he had to take the chance. He had to talk to you, show you that he had moved on. He didn't care about you anymore, or how you so ruthlessly left him.
"Yes," you said weakly, smiling softly. God, he still thought that you looked beautiful, clad in a periwinkle blue dress, a thick coat draped around your shoulders. You were shivering, and Bucky resisted the urge to ask you what was wrong. Now that he was closer, he could see that didn’t look well at all. You had dark circles under your eyes and your collarbones were too prominent, your gaze devoid of any livelihood.
You glanced at Bucky’s fingers interlaced with a gorgeous blonde. You had seen her on the news before, you were pretty certain. Your smile forcibly stretched wider, blinking a few times, not knowing what to do with yourself.
"This is Sharon," Sam said, clearing his throat and exchanging introductions.
“It’s very nice to meet you,” Sharon said politely. She was gorgeous, you thought, watching as she sent Bucky a subtle, questioning glance.
Bucky was still staring at you, unmoving. You took the initiative first.
“Bucky, can we talk for a second?"
You could see the way he was trying to control himself by the way his lips stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He gave a curt nod. He didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Sharon and the other hundreds of wedding guests.
“Let’s leave these two to catch up,” Sam said lightly, trying to hide his discomfort as he led Sharon away.
"So now you want to talk?" Bucky asked as soon as they were out of earshot, his voice sharp. You cringed, almost folding into yourself at Bucky’s hard stare.
"Yes," was all you managed to whisper, eyes darting to the ground to avoid meeting his glare. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”
You turned and walked towards the exit of the ballroom, turning back to look at Bucky. He followed after a second, his jaw set like stone as you led the way to the empty lobby outside, away from the noise.
"It's been a while, Buck.” You voice was sad as you turned to face him again.
"Yes," he said, fighting an internal battle. He was so torn. Seeing you again made him want to wrap you up in his arms like he would've done two years ago, when you were still together. And feeling like that made Bucky angry. What right did you have to make him feel this way? Who gave you the right to mess with Bucky’s heart again after so long?
"How have you been?" You asked eventually after a painfully awkward silence.
He scoffed at that. "How have I been?" He repeated incredulously. He doubted you really wanted to hear about all those nights he spent in his apartment, refusing to talk to his friends, being a complete social introvert (more than he usually was) because he felt like he just couldn't live anymore. Not without you.
"Great. Fantastic," he said without a shred of sincerity.
You stared at him for the longest time, your lips pressed into a thin line. You looked so regretful that it made Bucky feel uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry," you said eventually, your voice wavering like you were struggling to breathe properly. "I'm so sorry for leaving you like that. We...we could have ended things better. You didn't deserve how I treated you."
You flinched when Bucky scoffed derisively. He dropped any remaining restraints he had previously put in place, letting all his feelings run free.
"Are you kidding me? Why? Why are you coming back here and apologizing after all this time?" He felt like he wanted to tear his hair out in frustration as he stared at you, making sure to keep his distance lest he found himself wanting to pull you closer. God, it was all so confusing. He despised you, and yet seeing you here in the flesh was everything he had ever wanted in the last few years.
He hated how you were making him feel.
"Look, it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done," he spat through gritted teeth, all the while completely unaware of how your heart clenched painfully at Bucky’s scornful eyes. “Do you have any idea how unfair this is? You fucked up big time, disappeared off the face of the earth, then come back standing in front of me now asking how I am?”
“I know. You’re right, about everything. I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry.”
“No. You have no right to do this,” Bucky seethed. “You have no right to come back here and try to - what, settle your guilt? Make amends?”
You didn’t say anything, choosing to let him vent instead.
“I still remember the way you left. What you did. I will never forgive you for that. So don’t you dare stand in front of me today with all this bullshit and expect me to have something nice to say.”
"You really hate me, don't you?" You asked then, taking Bucky off guard. You lifted your head properly to stare at him, and the look in your eyes was unsettling.
"I hate you," Bucky confirmed unwaveringly, his voice hard. "I hate what you did to me and by extension, you."
You didn't respond. You bit your lower lip hard, trying desperately not to cry in front of him. Your heart hurt so much.
It was the worst feeling in the world, maybe, seeing the man you loved so dearly tell you that he hated you. It was excruciating, the clenching inside your chest as Bucky’s words rang in your head.
"I know my apologies will never be enough. I just wanted to see if you're happy now," you whispered.
"I'm happy," Bucky replied almost immediately. "I'm happy with Sharon. Does that bother you? Did you hope that I'd still be pining after you? I'm not that pathetic anymore." The barriers were broken, and the hurtful words were falling from Bucky’s mouth, two years worth of it.
“I never said you were pathetic,” you retorted, slightly indignant. “I’m glad that you’re happy.”
Bucky was breathing hard, unconvinced by your words.
“And how's the man you left me for?"
"He...it didn't work out," you shrugged, trying to keep your face as straight as possible.
"Good," Bucky said harshly. "Because you don't deserve happiness." If he wasn't so mad, he wouldn't say such irrational things. But he just wanted you to hurt. He wanted you to feel all the pain you caused.
Bucky pretended he didn't hear you gasp. He pretended that he didn't see your eyes gloss over at the sheer amount of hate in his voice.
"Okay," you said finally, your voice clearly shaking. "Okay," you repeated again, nodding your head. Bucky watched you take a step back, away from him.
“I -”
“I'm sorry, Bucky. Please take care," you interrupted, smiling sadly before you turned and walked away as quickly as possible.
That was not how you envisioned the reunion to go. All you wanted was to apologize, know that he was happy, so that you could go in peace.
But maybe that was the consequence of your decision. Maybe he was just always going to hate you for the rest of his life and remember you as someone awful.
You didn’t know that all Bucky wanted to do was run after you. Tell you to stop. He wanted to apologize and tell you how he didn’t mean a word of what he just said.
Rage and pride kept him shackled, and he watched your retreating back, feeling like a coward.
The last thing Bucky expected when he opened his apartment door a few days later was Sam’s dirty glare.
"You can be a mean son of a bitch, do you know that?”
"Hello to you too,” Bucky retorted.
“Why did you say all that stuff to her?” Sam asked, pushing his way past Bucky.
Bucky closed the door, knowing exactly who he was referring to.
"Why is this any of your business?"
"You acted like a dick!" Sam said furiously.
“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done something like that on your special day. But-”
“I want you to feel sorry to her.”
"She left me,” Bucky exclaimed. "You were there, Sam, you saw how fucked up she made me. She cheated on me! You want me to apologize to her?” His face was incredulous.
“You’re so fucking frustrating.”
“Oh, excuse me for not being the bigger person,” Bucky sneered. “But you don’t know how she made me feel, Sam, so don’t you dare try to give me a fucking lecture now.”
Sam was quiet for the longest time, looking exasperated. He stared up at the ceiling, sighing.
“Bucky, look man. She never cheated on you,” Sam said finally, an apologetic look in his eyes.
The apartment became filled with nothing but the sounds of Bucky’s heavy breathing.
“What are you talking about?” He spat, realizing now that Sam knew something he didn’t.
Sam let out a resigned sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I promised her I wouldn’t tell you. But fuck it, man, cause I think this is messed up. She’s sick, Bucky," he said solemnly. "Like, really sick."
Two years ago
"It's cancer, Sam."
You physically couldn't cry anymore. You had done enough of that the day the doctor had told you, your eyes puffy and swollen. Funnily enough, the first person you had sought out wasn’t your boyfriend, but rather his best friend.
Bucky wasn’t even in town that weekend, and you really didn’t want to tell him over the phone. In fact, you never wanted to tell him. How do you tell the man you love that you're dying?
"You can get treatment, right?" Sam asked.
"I don't know. It’s not looking good. They're doing some sort of new clinical trial in England, but even that’s a long shot. I - I’m going to try, though.”
Sam sat up straighter. “And Bucky?”
"You can't tell him," you said firmly. You had thought about it all night, and you knew you couldn't let him know. You didn't want to put him through something like this. "My father had cancer too, Sam," you said softly. "He died in so much pain, he had so much treatment but it didn't help. He was throwing up all the time, having fevers, his body was so weak, and by the end he wasn’t the same anymore. I don't want him to see me like that."
“But-”
“No buts,” you said. You had given it enough thought already. You knew that you would have to be very, very lucky to make it through this - the end was essentially inevitable. There was no way you would make Bucky bear witness to you succumbing to this illness the same way you had to watch your father.
It was the worst time of your life. You had told Bucky about it in the past, as he had never had a chance to meet your father since he passed away years before you met Bucky. Knowing what you did, you would never inflict that same experience on him.
"So what are you going to do?"
"I have to leave him.” You had been preparing yourself for what you needed to do all night. "If I go, there's a chance I might not come back, you understand that, right?"
"Don't say things like that," Sam said forcefully, clenching your hand. "Just stop. Bucky will support you all the way, you know that!"
"That’s exactly why I have to go by myself. I can't be selfish, Sam. I want him to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted. I can’t make him drop everything to make me his number one priority. Looking after me will take time and constant care. If I go to England, he will abandon everything and come. Manhattan is his home.”
Sam looked anguished and you knew that he was disagreeing with everything you had just said, but you plowed on.
"It’s not just a matter of time and effort. If he stays, he will watch me die, and I don’t want him to do that.” You began to cry, and Sam hugged you, wishing he could say something comforting.
“It’s okay," you said through the tears, even though every fiber in your body was telling you the opposite. You had been repeating these words to yourself all night, as if you would believe it if you said it enough times. "It’ll be okay."
Maybe you were being stupid, but you didn't care. You knew Bucky loved you with his body and soul, as did you. But you weren’t going to let him suffer over your illness. You wouldn't let the person you cared most about in the world see you slowly deteriorate.
You had been witness to how your father was clearly in a depressive state, and yet tried his hardest to pretend to be happy and fine around other people. You didn’t know if you had the strength or bravery to even pretend.
You began distancing yourself. Stopped trying to make conversation with Bucky, until the long, endless, random talks you used to share diminished into curt sentences. You stopped waiting for Bucky to come home, simply pretending that you didn't care. You became more secretive, furtively hiding your calls with your doctor and your mother.
There was no other man. You loved him and only him, and had been nothing but faithful. You didn't know what hurt more: having to lie to Bucky or the fact that he so easily believed you would betray him like that.
In the end, you had really regretted fabricating a story of infidelity. You should have just gone your separate ways without making him think that you had been unfaithful. But at that time, you wanted to find a quick solution that would make Bucky voluntarily detach himself from you. It seemed like a wise decision, but you really, really wish you hadn’t let him believe that you didn’t love him. It was truly the worst feeling in the world.
It was all over in a few weeks. You packed your things and left, trying not to cry with every heavy step you took towards the door of your apartment. You knew you were making the best decision for them both, surely.
Time would heal Bucky, and he would be happy again one day.
It just couldn’t be with you.
Present day
"She just didn’t want to feel like a burden to you, man," Sam said, shaking his head. "Why did you have to say all those things to her at the wedding?"
Bucky could register nothing else after Sam finished explaining everything. He was in disbelief, though he knew that there was no way Sam would fabricate a story like that.
Now, he could only think of the way he had shouted at you. The way he told you how much he hated you. The way you had left.
"Where is she?" Bucky whispered.
"She’s leaving today," Sam said tersely. "She’s going back to England. She was real sick for a long time, and she recovered a few months ago, but the cancer came back.”
He slipped a hotel business card into Bucky’s hand. “This is the address she’s staying at," Sam said.
He grasped it like a lifeline, eyes unable to see Sam standing in front of him. His vision was completely filled with images of you.
"Go," Sam said forcefully. "Go and find her.”
The tears wouldn't stop falling.
You didn't know words could hurt so much. Sure, you had expected Bucky to hate you, but you weren’t prepared for the way every single word seemed to embed themselves into your skin like splinters into your heart.
They were once so happy. They were so perfect.
You hated yourself. Hated yourself for getting ill, for ruining what you had. The logic was irrational, but the self-hatred had become second nature.
You had spent the last few days holed up in your hotel. You had planned to use the time to see a few friends before returning to England, but you no longer had the heart.
You left your room that morning only because Wanda was furious that she missed you at the wedding, and you agreed to have coffee with her. She almost cried at the sight of you, but you put on a brave face, refusing to talk about Bucky. You begged her if you could just talk about happy topics and she eventually obliged, smiling sadly when you hugged each other goodbye.
“I’ll see you again, dear,” Wanda had said, and you hoped to God she was right.
As soon as you got inside your hotel room, you felt a switch click internally.
Everything hurt. You were tired, unhappy and you really didn’t know if you would ever make it out of this emotional blackhole. You felt so weak, like you would keel over at any given moment.
Cancer really was a bitch.
You kicked off your shoes and entered the bathroom. You lay down in the bathtub, fully clothed, turning the cold water on until you were almost completely submerged, wanting to numb all the pain inside your body and mind.
You eyes were red and swollen, and you couldn't remember crying so much since that day the doctor diagnosed you. Why was life so unfair? You wanted your old life back again. The life where Bucky didn't detest you, the one where he was happily and wonderfully in love with you.
You lay back, letting the water cover you completely. You closed your eyes, your hair gently swirling around your face. You opened your mouth and screamed, bubbles erupting to the surface.
Eventually you emerged, gasping and coughing, your tears hot in contrast to your frozen face. Your body wracked with sobs, shaking uncontrollably.
You sank back down into the water, your mouth opening once more to scream in uncontrollable rage. It was cathartic, your fists clenched into balls as you willed the feelings inside you to just - disappear.
When you opened your eyes beneath the water, you nearly gasped at the sight of a blurry, warped figure above you. You didn't have time to do anything when arms were suddenly encasing themselves around you, lifting you to the surface.
You spluttered and coughed, your ears assaulted by the voice that once whispered sweet nothings in your ear.
"- the fuck are you doing? Are you okay?"
Bucky.
You blinked past the water in your eyes, bewildered at the sight of him, kneeling beside the bathtub with his hands gripping your shoulders. His bright blue eyes were scared, wide open with concern.
You were startled at his sudden appearance, unable to say anything as he scooped you out, lifting you with ease. You were clearly in shock and scared.
You collapsed against him as he sat down on the bathroom floor with you in his arms.
"What were you doing?” Bucky was appalled as he pulled you close to him, watching how you continued to weep, blinking blearily at him. Your body was ice cold, every inch of you soaked.
He whipped a towel down from the railing beside you, wrapping it around your body as you shivered uncontrollably.
"Bu - Bucky?" You asked, as if you couldn't fathom why he was here. You were almost convinced you were hallucinating.
"Fuck, we need to get you out of these clothes," Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he tried not to cry. He had so much to say to you. He wanted you to know how sorry he was, how he didn't mean anything he said, but now wasn’t the time. He had to be strong for you.
You felt like a baby as Bucky removed your soaking wet garments until you were naked, then immediately swaddled you with more towels. He picked you up completely off the floor and took you out of the bathroom.
He chose to place you down on the edge of the bed, positioning himself to kneel down in front of you.
"Bucky," you whispered, voice thick, trying to pull away from him. “I think you should just leave me alone."
He stiffened. It scared him to hear you talk like this, to see you look at Bucky with such defeat in your eyes.
“No,” he said resolutely. “I'm here now, okay? I'm here, I'm not leaving, and I need you to be with me. I need you here, talking to me.”
"I can't. I can't do this anymore. Just go, please."
Bucky looked at you then. Really looked at you. The woman he loved and misunderstood for so long was now a trembling wreck in front of him, skin paper thin and trembling like a leaf. You looked so vulnerable and sad, and it made his heart twist.
Bucky suddenly held you tight against his chest, tucking his nose against the crook of your neck, and you didn't resist.
"Do you have any idea how much I hate myself? I hate myself for letting you go through this alone. I hate myself for telling you all those lies that night. I love you, I love you, I love you," Bucky said, wishing that you would see it.
“Don’t.”
“I wish you had told me. I would have helped you. You should have told me. I can’t believe you -”
You realized now that Sam must've told him the truth, and you sighed softly.
"I'm not good for you, Bucky," you whispered. "I will only ever hurt you, put you through more pain."
"I know everything now," Bucky said firmly. "No matter what happens, I will gladly endure it as long as it means we're no longer apart."
“Don’t be so stupid,” you said, anger tearing through your voice, though the tears were still falling. “I’m broken, Buck. I can’t give you a future. Please just find someone else - stay with Sharon.”
“Sharon?” If you hadn’t mentioned her name, Bucky would never have even thought about her. “No - we’re not serious, doll. She was never going to be the one.”
“No,” you insisted. “If not her, then fine, find someone else. Just not me.”
“Why aren’t you listening?” Bucky asked furiously. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please don’t do this. I need you." He was desperate to make you see, to make you understand. It was you or nothing. "You don’t know how awful the past few years have been. I don’t want to be apart from you, please.” He was prepared to grovel at your feet and beg.
He hated himself for how easily he gave up two years ago. This time, he was not letting you leave him.
His beautiful blue eyes pleaded with you, and you felt your barricades crumble. Your arms finally moved to wrap around him, and he felt a wave of relief as he encircled you in his arms. You had missed this, the feeling of Bucky holding you so tenderly.
You didn’t know if you were making the right choice, but you wanted to give in so badly and just let yourself be selfish and enjoy what time you could have together. And now that Bucky had you back by his side, he was definitely not going to let you go.
Even if they were in pieces, at least they were together. And Bucky was positive that they could put those pieces back into a whole, as long as you gave it a chance.
"You're so stupid," you said through your tears.
"I don't think so," Bucky said, managing the smallest smile. "Just stupidly in love with you."
You wanted to stay like this forever, entangled in each others arms. He pulled back slowly to study your face, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss against your lips. He kissed you again, deeper this time, breathing you in.
“You owe me two years of kisses,” he mumbled.
You laughed softly, but it soon died. First, you had a lot of talking to do. You used the following hour to tell him the details about your illness, why you had left, how sorry you were for treating Bucky the way you did when you broke up with him.
"You're so dumb," Bucky had said, sounding furious for a moment. "You had no right to decide something like that for me. You know I would support you.”
"I know, Buck," you had interrupted. "That's exactly why I had to leave. I didn't want you to see me die, okay?"
You had looked like you were about to cry again, so Bucky stopped scolding you immediately. He would never make you cry again, he swore.
"You're here now," he said, kissing your temple. "We're together now. Everything feels...right again."
You swallowed, biting your lip. "I told you, my cancer is back and -"
"You'll get better again," he said, refusing to look at you. You knew that tears were in his eyes. "You'll get better, okay?" His voice wavered slightly.
"It's worse this time, Bucky," you said. "Look at me. I'm practically withering away."
"You'll get better," he said, clenching his teeth.
You didn't say anything, just nestled against Bucky’s chest, relishing the way he wrapped his arms securely around your frame as if you would disappear at any moment.
Maybe he was right. Maybe by some miracle, with Bucky by your side, you would be able to give him all the time in the world.
"I'll try to stick around," you whispered.
#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x female reader#bucky barnes#bucky angst#sebastian stan#bucky barns fanfiction#bucky barns imagine#bucky barns x you#bucky
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i had my issues with this shannon kim storyline from the start but i was convinced it was going somewhere. i was sure they were going to use the wacky ass plot to actually address eddie's issues and help him move forward. what did we get. zero resolution of eddie's feelings about shannon, where he's still romanticising their relationship as much as ever. zero development of eddie and chris. why was marisol even a character. and reinforcing for eddie that he can never, even for a moment, focus on his grief alone, because he will inevitably fuck chris up. with very few tweaks this storyline could have been at least the start of some sort of realisation for eddie that he's been living his entire life for chris and that's not healthy for either of them. what's the point now. what did he learn. anyway fool me once i guess
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My last uni final exam is in 2 days and I’m actually stressed the fuck out, so to take my mind off it I’m requesting this because the longer I keep starting at my lecture notes the more I’m getting the urge to cry soo here I am anyway can you do joost with female reader and she’s been a more distant towards him and when he asks if she’s ok she lies saying she’s fine but he knows her better than that so he comes over to find her studying knowing she hasn’t gotten sleep or properly eaten in days and she starts crying from the stress and just comforts her, maybe runs her a bath, gets her food, and then plays with her hair till she falls asleep. Don’t feel pressure to do it if you don’t want to and make sure to take care of your self!
Aawww thanks for the request sorry im a bit late to it hope your exam went well love🩷
Take care - joost klein
Its been a few days since joost has had a proper conversation with you as he looked at your latest text messages, he was quite busy himself so it took him a second to see how dry and short you were over texts. He got the sense something wasn’t right, making him feel a little anxious as he decided to stop by.
With a bouquet flowers in his hands he rang your doorbell, shuffling on his feet and playing with the string of his earbuds as he waited for you to open.
He heard a load groan on the other side of the door before it opened “oh joost hi” you sounded surprised “i didn’t know you were coming” you said as you looked at the flowers in his hand.
“I wanted to come check on you ya know see how you are” he said, presenting you the flowers “for you” he said with a big grin showing his theet as he gave you the biggest smile.
“Aw thank you love” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close “thats really sweet” you whisper in his ear.
As you let him in you went to put the flowers in a vase as joost looked around your appartement.
“Are you sure your doing okay?” He asks, looking around to see your place.. kind of neglected as clothes and other stuff spread around everywhere. You sigh sitting at the kitchen counter bend over your laptop again as you cover your face in your hands. “Ive been busy” you mumble.
“Whats up?” He nonchalantly says as he hovers over you. You lean your head on your arms as you sigh again. “Its to much stress these exams, i have to study so much and i feel like i cant do enough or im to dumb or ill have a black out, did you know i have to do a whole ass presentation?” You sounded more upset by the second as you raised your head to look at him in disbelief.
“Thirty fucking minutes joost what the fuck am i even going to do and i cant even take care of myself at the same time i haven’t eaten a meal in days i mean look at this place” you let out frustrated as you stare at your laptop again.
“Hey babe no” he shushes as his hands caressed your shoulders “your not dumb we’ve been over this you got this dont let the stress cloud your head like that, you gotta stay positive and ask for help when u need it alright i can help you out with… this..?” He said questionable as he pointed at all the words on your screen, making you let out a giggle as you pouted at him.
You sighed “no your right im not dumb its just to much joost” you mumble as you lean into his chest.
“Look since i know you pretty well, lets go over your exam for tomorrow and THEN take a break alright ill take good care of you” he said firmly kissing your cheek before he sat on the chair beside you sliding the laptop infront of him.
He squeezed his eyes and made a few faces as he looked at all of it. “Okay tell you what you explain this shit to me and if i understand it then you pass” he said flashing you his signature grin as he gave you the laptop back making you giggle while you rolled your eyes.
Lets just say it took a little while… joost couldn’t possibly focus on all those hard terms coming out of your mouth as he just mindlessly admired you and giggled when u scolded him to pay attention.
-
“Hmmm why don’t you take a nice bath while i try to make dinner for us” he said as he looked in all the cabinets of your kitchen.
“What if you blow up my house?” You said raising an eyebrow while turning to him. He gave you a mad face “no i will not blow up your house y/n” he chuckled “if you say so sweetie” you sang as you joined.
The evening ended with the two of you in the couch eating pasta joost made that was actually quite good. You gave him lots of compliments making the boy blush and smile at you like a little boy.
You laid in his lap as you watched your favourite show, his hand in your hair as you enjoyed the comfort and warmth of your boyfriend finally feeling relaxed. “Thank you” you whispered
“Anytime sweetheart” he said, kissing the top of your head.
#joost klein#joostice#justice for joost#free joost#stand with joost#joost#joost klein fanfic#joost klein fans#joost klein x fem!reader#joost klein x reader#joost klein x you#joost klein fic#joost x reader#joost klein short story#joost klein fluff#joost klein angst#joost klein fanfiction#joost klein the real winner of eurovision#europapa#eurovision
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Quiet Confidence || One Night Stand!Gaz
Rating: E
Words: 2.7K~
Pairing: ONS!Gaz x ONS!F!Reader
CW: smut, cunnilungus, protected sex (implied), piv (implied), nudity.
tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, one night stand, reader and kyle are both confident, kyle garrick is a munch, morning after talks.
a/n: the gifs used do NOT reflect the reader's skin tone of physical appearance. / the original poster of the gifs below is @unstablecryptid but I could *not* get the gif search bar to fucking show me the gifs of elliot knight.
In all the units he's been in, be it the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, or when he joined the SAS, or when he was doing resistance to interrogation training with the Marines, or, now, in the 141, one thing's for certain: Gaz is the worst person to have as a wingman.
Not because he doesn't know what he's doing. No, Kyle absolutely knows what he's doing. The issue is precisely that. He's a handsome lad with a playful demeanor and natural charisma. He fails at getting his mates a girl because the girl ends up wanting him.
And so no one asks for his help any more... and he stopped offering too.
But that doesn't mean that he stopped trying to get girls for himself.
Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz sit around a table in the corner of the packed pub, chatting amidst themselves.
It's become somewhat of a routine, before they all ship back home: they get together at a bar or pub, huddle around a table and each of them pays for a round of drinks before they part ways.
It's, in a way, a moment to decompress, unwind, and clear their heads, while also allowing them to be amidst civilians for a moment and 'turn off' the soldier mentality before they go home to see family (or whatever Ghost does).
It's always the same routine. Ghost pays the first round. Stops at the bar while the lads locate a table (or at least a wall to lean on), then marches back with four pints balanced perfectly on stiff arms. He's clinical, methodical. In, out. Goes to the bar, comes back.
Soap gets the next one. Goes to the bar, swaggering past the other patrons, shooting coy looks and little smirks at the women (and men) that catch his eye. Leans against the bar and takes his sweet. fucking. time. Spends longer chatting up the other people waiting for drinks and even the bartender than actually ordering and waiting. Then, he swaggers back. Sometimes empty-handed, sometimes with a number/username or two on his phone.
Price gets the next one. Just like Simon, he doesn't meander. He goes up to the bar, places his order, pays, and leans on his forearms while he waits. If he sees a pretty woman, he might side up to her and exchange a couple words. It rarely goes anywhere. But he doesn't seem to do it for the same reason Johnny (and Kyle) do. Mostly just to pass the time.
Kyle doesn't even put in effort at this point. And he's not even bragging when he says that. More often than not, when he's at the pub with his team, he's not there to look for a bird to spend the night with, he's there to say farewell before they go on leave. And yet, there's something about Kyle that makes women flock to him.
He finds himself being approached as he leans on the bar, eyes fluttering around the room, taking in the bottle and glasses on display behind the bartender, the patrons, the TV showing a football game high on the wall... And without fail a pretty woman will side up to him and try to make a move, give him her number...
Kyle would blame it on the fact he has a 'pretty face' as one of his ex-girlfriends would say, or maybe his shower routine, the fact he actually makes an effort to look and smell good, because it makes him feel good... But as one of his one night stands in the past year made a point to point out to him, he, allegedly, exudes a 'quiet confidence' about him.
Regardless of the cause, Kyle always returns to the table with hands overflowing with drink/pint glasses and his phone holding a handful of new numbers or instagram/snapchat handles... ones he does not plan on contacting.
-
You're sitting across the pub from the 4 men in the corner booth. They're in regular clothes but, from the way they sit and act, you can tell they're soldiers from the base a few kilometers away.
Your eyes keep finding their way to the pretty, dark skinned bloke that sits on the edge, his left side turned toward you, his lips pursed as him and his friends discuss whatever it is that soldiers do when they come to a pub. Probably sports.
"You know if you keep staring at him like that, you'll probably burn a hole through him." Your friend quips beside you, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.
"And what do you suggest I do instead? Just walk up to that Adonis and go 'Hey, handsome, wanna get out of here?' in front of his mates?" You retort with a cocked brow.
"Yeah? You've done worse than that." She tells you. You go quiet again, your gaze returning to the handsome lad.
He sits with his back against the leather back of the booth, shifting his weight around on his ass and sliding down the seat a bit, legs spread apart, one foot kicked up and off the cover of the table, more so in the way, to potentially trip someone.
Your friend is right, of course, you've done worse than go up to a pretty man and ask him to go home with you. In fact, you've done much more nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing things... But that bloke is easily one of the calmest and most confident ones you've seen in a while, not to mention he's not alone...
Pondering for a moment, you decide to just go for it. You finish the rest of your drink first and get up, walking over to his table, your mind already conjuring the perfect string of words to say in order to get him to come home with you. Hell, you don't normally have any trouble charming lads either.
You stop in front of the table and all four sets of eyes turn to look at him, one of them behind a balaclava, directly across from the man you want to speak to. You had nearly missed that one in the shadows of the pub.
Looking directly into the eyes of your target for the night, you feel the words you had kind of come up with escape you, as well as your last working neuron, and you find yourself feeling a bit flustered under his scrutinizing gaze.
He has the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen, which stare up at you like a baby cow, eyebrows knit, wide and inviting and warm...
Taking a deep breath, you simply reach your hand forward, palm facing up and you wait, eyes locked on the beautiful man sitting on the booth before you.
His eyes flutter down to your hand and then back up at your face, an eyebrow scaling up in intrigue and confusion, but he lays his left hand atop yours, his warm, calloused palm against your own. No wedding ring. Good enough.
You nod at him and turn away again, pulling him along as you begin to step away from his table. The lad's head immediately shakes, looking around at you, and at his mates, in confusion, but he has no choice but to follow you.
He stands and shoots his friends a confused but amused look, smirking a bit at your mere audacity. You can hear one of them make some comment behind your back as you drag the pretty boy away, but you don't catch it between his thick accent and the music and chatter inside the pub.
-
You made it from the bar to your elevator and to your door in near complete silence, no small talk other than to exchange names and ask about protection, no hesitation.
Getting lowered onto your bed, Kyle's lips were mashed against yours, his arms caging you in, his long, nimble fingers gripping onto the back of your head and nape.
Your legs spread to either side of his hip, your feet plant themselves on the bed, your knees squeezing lightly around his hip over the fabric of his black boxer briefs.
Kyle ruts his clothed bulge against your core, humming under his breath, the sounds he makes dying against your lips.
Your hands slide down from around the back of his neck over his pecs and down his abs, feeling how hard and defined he is. "Mmmm..." You purred as your nails gently slid down his dark skin.
"You like my muscles, hm?" He murmurs after breaking the kiss, diving in to kiss down your jaw and neck, then over your collarbone and onto the swell of your breasts in your bra.
"Maybe." You reply, which causes a rumble of a laugh to escape him, his hands pulling you up and off the mattress so he can undo the back clasp of the bra, before slipping the straps off your shoulders, and throwing the garment aside.
"Maybe, eh?" Kyle teases and leans up close, his large hands cupping the flesh of your breasts, squeezing them them together while his thumbs glide over your pert nipples, rubbing them in circles.
"Mmmm... Maybe." You agree with a chuckle of your own, a hum of appreciation falling through your lips from his touch, at the same time as you grind your clothed cunt against the bulge in his underwear.
The man above you smirks at you, letting you continue to grind yourself against him, while his head dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, giving it a slow lick and a greedy suck, his fingers still squeezing the flesh of your tits around them.
After a moment of giving them some attention, his mouth glides down your stomach and over the mound of your pelvis, toward your pussy, his body leaving the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of it, his face lining up between your thighs.
His fingers run over your slit, the man purring at the feeling of the soaked patch you wore into the fabric, before hooking a finger around the side of the gusset, pulling the fabric aside.
Kyle's face leans up close and he wastes no time attaching his plump lips to your wet cunny, his tongue seeking out and finding your clit after letting go of your underwear and spreading your folds with his fingers.
His nose buries itself on your mons and your legs twitch slightly as he gives your clit the attention it deserves, licking and sucking the sensitive bud, pulling it behind his teeth with greedy sucks, the obscenely wet sounds of his sucking filling the room and making you, somehow, whine more than the actual feeling itself.
"K-Kyle-" You whine as your hand finds his head, your legs trembling on either side of him, twitching against either side of his head and squeezing against his ears, like you're desperate to close them.
Kyle's big brown eyes look up at you with a spark of mischief and he grabs both your thighs with his large hands, forcing them open again and holding them against the mattress, leaving you splayed on the bed as his tongue laps furiously at your clitoris.
"I know... I know..." He coos at you as you whine and tremble, your hip bucking a bit as you both seek more of his pleasure and less of it, feeling your climax rearing its head over the horizon as Kyle sends you barreling toward it with just the feeling of his tongue.
Then, his fingers join in, two of them, carefully plunging inside your leaking hole, moving slowly and deeply, curling up to find your G-spot, his lips once more making the most obscene of sucking sounds as he eats you out like a man starved.
You whine and your head falls back, your body thrashing atop your bed covers as you climax, leaking your juices over his long digits and pushing his head away from you, your clitoris overstimulated and feeling raw.
You struggle to catch your breath, feeling hot and covered in sweat, the man kneeling at the foot of your bed looking at you with his pretty brown eyes and a smirk on his lips.
"Don't look at me like that!" You complain, feeling flushed, both from embarrassment and from the recent climax.
"Like what, sweet thing?" He asks you, raising his brows and lifting himself off the floor, crawling back atop you, and settling his hip between your parted legs.
"All cocky and smug-like." You retort, hearing him chuckle again.
"Not smug at all, poppet." He tells you in earnest before leaning down and kissing you slowly again. "Just happy I made you feel good. You used to blokes who don't make you cum, hm?" He asks you.
"No, they make me cum." You reply, and, truly, you're saying the truth. But this feels different either way.
"Good, then," Kyle adds and smirks, rolling your hip and legs to the side, his fingers hooking over the edge of the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. "'cause I plan on making you cum on my cock next."
-
The next morning, you wake up past 11 a.m., bleary-eyed.
You rub your eyes, yawn and stretch along the bed, your arm hitting a warm and hard body beside you.
"Morning to you too, poppet." Kyle's voice murmurs from beside you, causing you to turn to look at him.
You lock eyes with his ass, first and foremost, your eyes widening for just a second.
Kyle's lying on his stomach, his elbows propping him halfway up on the pillow as he scrolls through his feed on some social media.
"Hi..." You murmur and chuckle softly. "You know, most lads would've left by now, hm?" You quip.
The man next to you hums and chuckles before shrugging. "Most lads aren't me." He says simply.
Looking toward you, you can't help but smile a bit at the sight of his warm eyes, shaking your head in amusement at his (over)confidence.
"Did you sleep well?" He asks you.
"Mhm... Like a baby." You nod and stretch your arms again. "What about you?" You return.
"Slept well, yeah..." He retorts. "Don't know why I asked, there's no way you could not, after the way I tired you out?" He teases and winks at you.
Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "Oh shut it..." You murmur, arching your back and stretching your spine out.
You're acting nonchalant about it, but the delicious soreness between your thighs and the sticky warmth of the sweat you shed last night speaks volumes. He's 100% right.
"I ordered you food," He says before rolling toward you and reaching over your body to the bedside table, retrieving a water bottle, still cold, meaning he went to get it from the fridge for you.
"Thanks." You murmur once he hands it to you. You open it and curl your head up to sip some water. "I've never had a bloke order me food the morning after." You quip.
"Well, I'm not an animal... I ate you out last night, only fair I feed you in return, hm?" He quips, causing you to scoff again and groan at the stupid comment.
Cheeky fucker, and the worst part is he knows how bad that was, and is still smirking down at you all smugly...
A notification from his phone makes him yelp softly and he rolls away, rising from the bed. "Food's downstairs." He announces.
Your eyes are drawn to the way he looks as he collects his clothes from the floor of your bedroom, tugging them on over his body, his cock, especially, hanging low against his thigh before he fixes it inside his underwear and tucks it all into his jeans.
The memory of how he pounded into you with reckless abandon last night, the tip of his cock hammering past your gummy walls at a neck-breaking pace, hearing you cry out in delight every time it kissed your cervix, comes flowing back.
Kyle notices you eyeing him up just as he's putting on his boots and glances at you with the same smug smirk he's shot you so many times in the last 12 hours together.
Stopping at the door of the bedroom while turning his shirt right side out, ready to put it on, he winks at you. "Don't worry, I'll give you a round two after we eat."
#ikea writes 💚#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#cod modern warfare#cod fanfic#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle “gaz” garrick#kyle “gaz” garrick x reader#gaz#cod gaz#gaz smut#kyle gaz garrick smut#kyle “gaz” garrick smut#cod mw#cod mw2#cod mw3#call of duty smut#call of duty fanfic#x reader#kyle gaz garrick deserves respect#kyle gaz garrick deserves love#gaz deserves respect#one night stand#cod smut#smut fic#smut writing
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What We Want - Chpt. 7 - Black N' White Knight
In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe
(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!
SUMMARY
Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.
Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?
As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.
And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.
Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?
(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)
PREV - NEXT
“I can’t believe that just happened,” Dick tells Tim, hand carting through his hair. The two of them are in the kitchen, at the breakfast bar. Tim sitting in front of his laptop with his legs crossed, and Dick tapping one foot agitatedly against the marble floor. While Tim might not be grinning ear to ear, it’s pretty obvious for anyone who knows him that he’s delighted by the tale Dick just regaled to him.
And what a tale it was. He hasn’t seen you in a year and a half, and then when he does, he finds you teary eyed staring at a picture of him shirtless at the gym. Bruce had always told him the way he played with the paparazzi would come to bite him in the ass one day, but he really can’t say he expected… that.
Obviously, it had to be a prank. That’s his first thought. That’s his only thought, really. What other explanation could there be? An accident? Maybe you’d forgotten what his room looked like. It wasn’t like he kept much personal stuff in his Wayne manor room, the only markers his clothes and the letters he kept in his drawer from his parents.
And you were wearing his clothes, of all things. He’d be surprised if you forgot how much of a Superman fanboy he was, seeing as he’d spent many hours ranting to you before the explosion. So, a prank. A show of good will, an olive branch maybe? It was more likely you were just fucking with his head, as you’d done in the past. Never like this, though.
This was just… bizarre.
“I can’t either,” and of course, Tim sounds near estatic saying that. The love of chaos ran true in that one.
Dick had managed to wrangle his life under control a few years back, and despite the universe seeming to try to unravel it at the seams, he was indisposed to let it simply happen. Even if you of all people had changed. No, Dick was getting older, and he was finding his taste for chaos a lot more… limited.
He didn’t want to suffer it’s affects. He was currently suffering it’s affects.
“I knew something was going on when she showed up to the party, but this…” Tim pauses, leaning back in his chair, “It’s gotta be a prank, right?”
It said a lot about their family that this was all the assumption they defaulted to.
“It could be something else. Did you even take her to the hospital after?” Dick offers instead, overthinking as always. This situation seemed to be made for overthinking, though.
Tim hums. “No, we did not.”
Then he turns his stare to Dick, like he’s expecting something from him.
“Seriously?”
“What? You’re the friendly one.”
Dick very much did his best to seem like the friendly one, at least. Tim was well aware it was a complete farce, though. Dick was nice but he could also be a bit… well… a bit of a dick. Another thing he’d been trying to overcome. He was doing better than when he’d been seven, at least.
Dick sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead, “I’d probably just end up accidentally nagging her, and then she’d never speak to me again.”
“That’s not my problem,” Tim shrugs, glancing back down at his laptop and squinting.
“It is, actually. Because if she stopped talking to me you’d probably be the next one till the girls and Duke came home who has to talk to her.”
“She could talk to Jay,” Tim offers, because he’s a shithead. Dick bets he did the same with Bruce, “And besides, I’m busy doing surveillance.”
“You mean stalking.”
“I do it to everybody, stop making such a big deal out of it.”
Dick sighs again.
“Hm, you might want to check your phone,” Tim says, in a way that suggests he has once again tapped the network. Keeping him out of Dick’s private life was like Sisyphus and his boulder. He still wasn't going to give up, and the time Tim and Steph mercilessly bullied him for getting dumped over text had made him all the more so.
‘Dont_try’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx
“Please, tell me you sent that and are just messing with me,” Dick begs, staring down at his phone in mild despair. Chaos. Always fucking chaos. Despite how hard he tried, he could not keep his family out of trouble. God damn it, when he’d gotten this job he’d been the one made for trouble. Where did he go wrong?
“Honestly, sounds like the sort of thing I’d do, but the girl just got bitch slapped so I really think you should respond fast.”
“What?!”
“She’s fine now, run to the bathrooms I think. You know for such an upstate place you’d think they had better camera positioning,” Tim mutters, complaining that he can’t watch every single little movement you make. Dick thinks he should probably worry about this, as it’s a clear sign of another decline for his sanity, but he’s now got this shit to deal with.
“Why, Tim? What is going on? Just tell me what’s going on.”
“Hm?” he’s engrossed by the computer, “Ah, the shitty boyfriend… some soup- ha, how is she such a clutz? Maybe we should get her head checked again- and… an altercation of some kind? I don’t know, I can’t see it properly.”
Dick leans forward in his stool, clasped hands covering his face for a moment.
“Are you going to reply? If you don’t soon, she’ll probably make it a bigger shitshow,” Tim says, nudging his foot against Dick’s. Dick, good big brother that he is, takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Even if this is really not what he wanted for his holiday, he’s dealt with much, much worse.
The press will have forgotten about this within the week. You, however, likely not. He’d promised to help you all those years ago, and even if he had no idea why you were reaching out to him, or if you would even be amicable when you met again, he’d still damn well do it.
He glances back down at his phone.
“What is going on?” Dick repeats to himself, and Tim’s head cocks to the side. There���s that familiar cat that got the cream grin spreading across his younger brother’s face, and it just really isn’t welcome right now.
“Intrigued yet?”
Unfortunately for both him, Tim and especially you, Dick already was.
He’s in his car in five minutes flat, finger tapping against the premium leather wheel. The sound of it is the only thing that manages to keep him sane.
Riding up to the place, Dick realises that no, maybe the press won’t be over this within the week. Considering the amount of paparazzi swarming the place, he doubted you’d be free for at least a few months. To be fair, the mysterious ex-wayne making such a scene was a bit of a big deal. Before you’d been basically invisible, despite your immense wealth and past.
Invisible? Dick thinks he spots at least twenty cameras. And that’s not even mentioning all the phones inside that would’ve gotten up close videos of whatever happened. Their legal team would handle it fine, that which Barbara or Tim couldn’t wipe from the face of the earth. And that was very little, all things considered.
Dick has to push past the calls of his name, ignoring all the intrusive questions volleyed his way like the pro he was. He still makes sure to listen carefully and store away every vital bit of information, as well as remember the logos on the film crew’s van. Eventually he makes his way to the front of the line, and the flustered front of house immediately recognises his face and sweeps him inside. Dick ducks in with a thankful smile, which he admits, falters when he enters the scene.
A scene which you are not in. Your gold digging boyfriend was, though. Of all the things Dick regrets with you, it’s not breaking the horrid relationship the two of you had apart. Or well, the fact that you totally, loudly hated his guts. He was a sensitive guy, y’know!
He sees your terribly boyfriend - George, Dick remembers - raging at some poor servers, and he knows he need to go sweep in and save the pour soul. It’ll be a hard fight, he can already tell.
Before he does so, he sends a quick text to his phone.
Underwear_guy: Where are you?
Don’t_try: I’ll be right out.
Shockingly, that was the truth. You come striding into the restaurant, and immediately all eyes are on you. It makes you stutter-step. Dick can see you visibly stiffen up, before you manage to gather your courage and keep walking. You don’t even pay him a single glance as you walk straight towards your fuming boyfriend.
You try to whisper, keeping your voice quiet and your conversation private. The boyfriend seems uninterested in the idea.
“What the fuck are you thinking?!” he cuts you off.
You glance around, and then say something else. It seems like you’re trying to defuse the situation, but George seems uninterested by the idea.
“This behaviour is ridiculous. You need to get it together, we’re in public!” he yells, like he isn’t the one causing a scene. He seems to be trying to intimidate you back into silence. But today and well, yesterday too, something is different about you.
Okay, that’s enough of that. Dick’s intervening.
“You cheated on me! You deserve it and everything that’s coming to you!”
Or, uh, maybe you’ve got it covered.
-
George’s shocked face is almost worse than when you literally bit him. Guess he expected you to be a bit more demure after that encounter. He should know better, the other version of you seemed to have been even more spiteful in nature.
Today again, you prove you are a less than stellar person. You’d stopped caring about George as soon as you’d discovered he’d cheated, but you were still angry. Not jealous, but furious. Bubbling up your throat, rage and bile and the urge to attack him once again, even if you just want to go home.
Your teeth grind. Your jaw ticks. And oddly, you realise you have a real taste for George Lancaster’s limbs.
Though your life had changed (literally) in the past few days, you were still the same girl from your first twenty-first. You wanted George Lancaster to suffer. Even more so, now that the evil cunt had hit you right in the face. The hit had stunned you, though. More emotionally than physically, but it had shocked you.
You couldn’t say you were a coward. You’d spent far too many days in your teenage years indulging in self-destructive behaviours to think that. But something about this pathetic man was scaring the shit out of you. You think that made you more pathetic, but you couldn’t quite tell. That’d be victim blaming, right?
You did have a habit of blaming yourself. It was just usually your fault.
…Maybe you shouldn’t have bit him, no matter how much the response was instinctual or his screech was satisfying. This was all too confusing, all too much. You needed to get back to your apartment, lock the doors and barricade them so nobody bothers you. And then maybe hibernate for a week. You needed some time to process all the stupid bullshit you were experiencing. The wayne manor was too much, your horrible white apartment was too much, George fucking Lancaster was too fucking god damn much.
You take a deep breath, and manage to stop yourself from bolting like a deer. Deal with the problem at hand. Deal with it now, deal with it!
“I’m leaving, and we are done. It’s that simple,” you tell George, trying to drill in a message that he seems unable to comprehend. At this point you’d assume he’d be trying to apologise, manipulate back into his good graces, but you think you might’ve completely broke him. Broke the script.
Good. That was damn well good.
“Can we talk about this somewhere else at least?” George replies, eyes flicking to Richard Grayson’s angry gaze. At least you think he’s angry. You can’t quite gather the courage to look directly at him.
Also, there’s the manipulation! You wish you weren’t right this time.
“Sure, but I’m bringing him, and my answer will absolutely not change. You hit me.”
“You bit me!”
Well, yeah, not your best moment. You don’t think you can regret it, though.
“Then I think this relationship is ending on equal terms,” you reply, trying your best to just get him to quit it. It is obviously not working by the way his expression darkens.
“I’ll tell the press everything,” George threatens, which, well, is sort of a shitty threat because I don’t even know what he’s threatening. ‘Everything’? Couldn’t he be a bit more specific?
You shrug. It is the wrong response, you know it is, but you’ve completely ran dry of fucks to give. Couldn’t be much worse than the bullshit happening right now. The press were already very well fed, considering the situation that was today. George makes a small sound of fury.
“We’ll sue,” Richard Grayson, the white knight that you’d daydreamed about, comes to your rescue. Is it odd that it’s kind of flustering? You probably shouldn’t be flustered.
George immediately snaps his gaze to Grayson’s, giving the man a look with a healthy dose of fear. Couldn’t blame the guy. Even if he was the second smallest of the three remaining brothers, he was still well known for being strong. His family often did kick-boxing, and their sister, Cass, often whooped their asses. It was sort of satisfying to watch. Anyway, his physical prowess from fighting to weirdo gymnastic bullshit was evident in his svelte build.
George was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. With just the one threat from the Waynes legal team, he skitters away like the little rat you know him to be. He leaves the restaurant, and he very obviously does not pay or even leave a tip. You suppose you have the cash to make up for it. Then, ignoring the paparazzi, you were technically home free. You glance to the side. Richard Grayson’s beautiful face looks a mix of confuddled, frustrated, and exhausted. He still saved you, though, even after the fool you made of yourself.
White knight, indeed. It almost feels a bit anticlimactic, but it’s the results you wanted. And yet, an ominous feeling befalls you. Somehow, you don’t feel you’ve seen the last of George Lancaster. You just really hope the old you hadn’t committed any crimes. A tabloid? Humiliating, but livable. Prison? Not so much.
Not that the rich stayed in prison in Gotham, or even the rest of the world. It was kind of strange to realise you were sort of above the law now.
You glance at Dick, pulling your uncomfortably wet shirt away from your chest. You’ve sort of been bled dry of any shits you could give at this point, so you decide, very maturely, to make jokes and ignore all your problems. It had gotten you this far.
You’d seen this behaviour before. Many, many times. It was what usually got you fired. But now you didn’t really have to worry about that, so why should you worry about causing a scene and ruining your life a bit more? It wasn’t yours, after all.
“What do you think?” you joke, elbowing Dick. He looks down from glaring at the entrance George just slipped out of, to you. His blue eyes are a damn near shock to the soul. It takes everything in you not to start fidgeting.
“Think of what?” he responds, and despite how hard you try, you can not read his expression.
“I’m trying to make some more news. Don’t think the reporters got enough the other day,” you say, gesturing to the giant stain. It’s still Dick’s shirt. You hadn’t realised till now, but the Beatles was now some sort of green soup. Is it kind of gross of you to acknowledge that at least the soup smelled good?
Probably. You didn’t actually get to eat anything here. It’s also probably a bit weird that you’re thinking about eating at a time like this. Probably.
“I think you’ve done enough, honestly,” he says, glancing at the camera flashes from outside.
He sounds exactly like your mother, it’s almost uncanny. Well, this version of him technically knew her. You’re still not sure how well en-meshed your two families had been before the disaster, but maybe he’d picked up some traits from her.
…That… you’re not sure how to feel about the idea. The old green monster bubbles up at the thought, and you can’t tell if you’re jealous your mum got to meet Dick Grayson, or that Dick Grayson might’ve gotten to know your mum.
“We should leave,” he says, cutting off your bitter inner thoughts, “I know you don’t like it when the magazines bother you.”
You don’t? You don’t. Yes, that makes sense, ‘you’ definitely wouldn’t have. And it’s not like you feel comfortable with them either. In fact, if you think about the fact your drowned rat appearance will be on every tabloid in the city by tomorrow, probably alongside photos from your birthday, you feel so nauseous you could collapse. Going to compartmentalise that one.
“Yes, going, let’s go,” you say, following Dick out of the restaurant.
Despite the fact that the security guards are trying their best, it’s getting quite rowdy out here. When Dick wraps an arm around your shoulder, shielding you with his body, you almost just pass out right there. His muscles… Your heart simply can’t take it. As it is, Dick notices you jump like a foot in the air, and backs off. He still makes sure to try and protect you from their vision as much as possible.
Still, in an act that is purely rebellious, you turn and give them a big smile and a wave. Even as you hate every single person on the other side of the divide, you want to make one thing very clear. You will not be cowed by someone like George fucking Lancaster. Your peace sign and wink are a message to them, to him, and to yourself.
Despite the fact that this new life is one you have no idea how to handle, you know one thing. Put on a face, and it’ll always be easier.
Dick is probably wondering what the hell happened to you for you to be acting this way. Your shirt has a giant stain on it, you just broke up with your cheating boyfriend, went through a traumatising experience just a few days ago, and you’ve got the biggest grin on your face. This behaviour speaks more and more of a full blown mental breakdown. And it’s not the first you’ve had or the last.
There’s paparazzi snapping thousands of photos of the two of you, and instead of shying away as ‘you’ used to, you throw up a peace sign. One of the papps drops their camera. That confuses you a bit, as your peace sign deflates slightly. Didn’t they want more pictures? Weren’t you supposed to pose…?
For all you stalked celebrities online, you realise you have no idea how to pretend to be one. This is going to become an issue, you can already tell.
He points at a car, and you assume it’s his because he starts making his way over. He’s obviously done this sort of thing before, using and guiding the security with a smooth confidence. Even still, the two of you are a bit too close for comfort.
Which you prove, by putting your foot directly in your mouth.
“I don’t have abs, but do you think the press would like my stomach like they like yours?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. Another poor joke. You are deflecting so hard. And why the hell did you bring that up, you dunce? You feel your brain cells draining the more you’re around this guy, it’s not healthy for you.
“Please don’t pull your shirt up in public,” Dick sounds like he’s about to have a mental breakdown. It’s spreading, like the plague. You’re patient zero, of course. Even still he gets you guys to the car, and opens the side door for you. You follow his wordless command and slip into the passenger seat.
“I won’t. Sorry, sorry,” you reply, to relieve him of some of the trauma you’re currently inflicting.
He glances back to the papps, and then back down at you. His smile bowls you over like he’s getting the last strike in a fucking 300. He genuinely is the most beautiful human being you’ve ever seen. Thankfully, he closes the door so you have a moment to gather your sanity before he goes around the car and gets in the driver’s seat.
You hope you’re subtle when you shift away from him slightly. It shouldn’t be that surprising really. You were stupid on average. You would be stupider around attractive people. You would be frankly disastrous around someone as blastingly hot as Dick Grayson. The Waynes in general turned you into a drooling idiot.
Good god, you need to get out of this car. As soon as you think that, Dick is pulling away from the parking spot and out onto the streets. He makes slow progress because Gotham traffic, but eventually you manage to flee the horrifying stares of the cameras. Already you can tell it’ll be giving you nightmares. Probably along with images of the guy who tried to rape you and Damian Wayne sneering at you.
“So, how are you feeling?”
Despite how you wish it not, Mr. Grayson decides he’s going to start a conversation with you.
“Good,” you reply, the answer instinctive and an obvious lie.
You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you don’t dare return it.
“That’s good to hear,” he says, and his voice is gentle. Sort of infantilising if you’ll be honest.
While it is very clear to anyone who looks at you that you have no idea what you’re doing, you’d rather he didn’t bring it up. You’ll figure it out. You’ve always managed to figure it out. This is what you get for asking for help. Really, despite your momentary panic you could’ve taken George. Probably not physically, but…
“You can talk to me if you want, you know?”
“Can you stop the car, please?” you respond, when that question immediately activates your fight or flight response. Dick must notice something about you, because he quickly shoots forward and into a momentarily available parking spot.
You scramble with the door, shoving your way back out onto the asphalt. The immediate distinct smell of Gotham, even Gotham’s richer districts, calms you down. Sewage, the ocean, and the ever present smoke and fog.
Fuck’s sake. You aren’t making yourself look anymore well put together.
Clearing your throat, you turn and find Richard Grayson coming around the car hood towards you. There’s a worried look in his eyes, and you really don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like you made a deal with the devil. By getting rid of George, you’d gotten a new problem - and an infinitely more complicated one.
Shit, you need to stop making rash decisions when you’re having panic attacks. You’d say you should probably try and stop having panic attacks entirely, but you don’t really know how to do that.
The sound of your name has you snapping back to attention. Dick looks even more worried.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks, taking a few slow steps towards you. Again, infantilizing. Like you’re a wild animal about to run. Wait, weren’t you just comparing yourself to a chihuahua? Well, it’s not the same when other people do it.
“I’d like to take a walk,” you say, hand scrunching into your pyjama pants, “Alone, I’d like some time alone.”
“…In that?” He glances down at the stain that is slowly starting to dry. It’s making your skin itchy, but at least it’s not as cold.
“I can buy something,” you say, remembering one of the apps on your phone was connected to your bank account, which you had to assume was pretty full. It’s kind of stupid that you haven’t checked that yet.
You’re starting to feel a bit defensive towards your own intelligence. Maybe it’s because you seemingly keep making all the worst decisions.
Dick doesn’t make it any better.
“Do you have cash on you?” he asks, showing how little faith he has in your general abilities to survive as an adult in Gotham.
“I do, I’ll be fine,” you insist, because god damn it, you will be. You just need a fucking minute.
You ran from the Wayne manor because you felt like you were being watched, and then as soon as you showed up at the world’s most uncomfortable apartment, the haunting wraith known as George dragged you out in your P.J.s. You could figure it the fuck out, if these people would give you some fucking space.
Richard Grayson seems to realise that you’re getting upset, because he goes quiet for a moment. After staring at you for a moment longer, for which you manage to find the courage to maintain eye contact through pure stubborn will, he asks you one final question.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride home or something?” he asks, still seeming so determined to help you.
His suggestion brings flashes of images of you breaking down in front of the Bruce Wayne to mind. From almost a birds eye view, you see yourself sobbing against your own ruined dress as the billionaire looked on. Bile literally jumps up your throat, and it takes a lot of willpower not to grimace at the suggestion.
“Look, Mr. Grayson, I really appreciate-”
“That’s the second time you’ve called me that.”
Once again, you feel the urge to simply sprint away from your own problems, but you manage to hold yourself still. Still, you can’t think of a solution. You can’t really think much of anything. Instead you stare at Richard Grayson with your hands threaded together and your lips pressed into a thin line.
Though you open your mouth to speak, you find you have no excuses ready or available. You’ve talked yourself into a corner already, and it’s your third day in this world. Marvellous. Maybe you should just tell the truth.
Still, the dangers outweigh the pros. They don’t know you, they don’t have any real reason to take care of you. If they believe you, they’ll toss you out onto the streets penniless. And if they don’t-
You blink. There’s a highway sign behind Dick, and it catches your attention like a lightning bolt. ‘Arkham Asylum 800 miles’. It’s white blocky letters on green panelling feels like a sign from god, warning you from the path you consider taking.
And then you realise that you might actually get sent to Arkham if you say anything, and you resolve to never tell a single soul about what has happened to you. You’ve heard enough stories about the asylum, and by god, you are not being roommates with the fucking Joker of all people.
Eventually Dick realises he’s not getting anything out of you and he sighs, shaking his head. His annoyingly perfect hair mesmerises you for a second, but you manage to wrangle your brain back under control. He really doesn’t make it easy.
“I just want to know if you’re safe. If you’re going through anything, you know we’re always happy to help-”
“Dick,” you say his name, face twisting in discomfort, “This was a… a one time thing. Usually I can handle my problems. It just… it caught me off guard. George cheating was a huge shock, and I needed someone to stand by me.”
“And you know I always will, right?”
Ah. That’s… Dick Grayson was a stranger. You didn’t know him, and more than that he did not know you. He did not know what you would do, could do. You didn’t think anyone did, not even yourself.
It’s a silly idea to expect your celebrity crush to save you, and it’s one you find you can’t stomach it at the moment. It makes you feel disgusted with yourself at the idea. It’s too indulgent, too silly. It’s very simply, not possible.
You’ve given up on relying on miracles. These lessons had been beaten into you, really. You didn’t want to have to learn them again.
Your feelings must show on your face.
Dick lets out a whoosh of air, frustration palpable. He carts his hand through his hair. It still looks perfect. The world is unfair, yadda yadda.
“You run hot and cold, you know?” he gives you a grin. It says a lot about his ability to act, seeing as it seems almost natural. Almost, being the key word.
Also, he is absolutely correct. The chihuahua effect is in full-swing. And you know what? You are probably going to continue to run hot and cold, because you’ve never made a decision in your life. He’ll just have to get used to it.
You raise your hands and shrug, in the universal ‘what-can-you-do?’ motion. He wasn’t wrong. You were being completely erratic. Not even you knew what you’d do next. At least life isn’t boring these days, right Right? You wonder who you are trying to fool, because it’s certainly not yourself.
“I’ll contact you if I need anything,” you lie, because it seems to be the right thing to end this torturous conversation, “And I’ll make sure to keep contact with Alfred. You can talk to Jeanine if you need anything, as well.”
Dick, unfortunately, calls you out on your bullshit.
“But not you, right?” he says, smile still printed on his face.
Woof. You think… you’ve hurt his feelings? Ah shit, you instantly feel like the scum of the earth. Still, you don’t know how you could fix this. Arkham is a genuine threat lingering over your shoulder, you don’t know enough about your new cut-throat billionaire world, and you can not lose any faith they have in you. Any that you have left, that is.
You’re sorry, but this is coming down to survival. And you are a greedy person, after all.
In the end, you don’t have anything to say, and Richard Grayson leaves without a word. Watching him walk towards his car, you feel… bad. Really bad. The part of you that is still crushing on this guy, a very large part of you, feels like you’ve ended the earth. The other part, the one that recognises that once again you’re going to have to fight for yourself… well, she thinks so too.
Maybe… maybe you could fix this. Apologise. Once you’ve gotten your bearings and know you’re safe and 100% financially stable, maybe you’ll figure it out. Give him his shirt back after you’ve dry-cleaned it.
For now, you give him your back as well.
MASTERLIST - NEXT
#Series:WWW#yandere batfam#batfam x reader#yandere dc#yandere batfamily#yandere x reader#dick grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#tim drake x reader#red robin x reader#damian wayne x reader#robin x reader
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just imagining play fighting with lando and him always letting her win etc. maybe one day he’s stressed or not in the mood for her antics and using some strength to move her off or something and her being shocked or something, just general fluffy angst :)
a/n: i love this idea !!! i kept the angst to a minimum because i hate writing/reading it but it's still there!!!
my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
It had become a ritual between the two of you, really.
You were both still very much children at heart, it was bound to be known that chaos would appear every time you two were together.
Ever since the two of you got together, there was never a dull moment in the apartment you had come to share. Your friends had quickly realized what a challenge you two were combined, the energy that you both brought to the party being a little too much to deal with sometimes.
One particular thing that had become your own was play fighting.
You loved “fighting” with Lando, getting your energy out of your body while also bonding with the one you loved. Of course, he would almost always let you win, going easy on you in fear of hurting you.
But you didn’t go easy on him, never. He was much stronger and fitter than you, so he already had the upper hand on you. You had to compensate with something, even if you knew he would never actually go hard on you.
However, as much as Lando loved indulging you and seeing your radiant smile every time you would get his attention, he had been having a really crappy day and was not in the mood for it by the time he came home.
Many meetings, a very hard training session and hours doing simulator work at the MTC before returning to Monaco on a very late flight. He was exhausted, barely keeping his eyes open by the time he had reached the door of your apartment.
You had been waiting for him, having cooked some dinner earlier in the evening which you had put in the fridge for when he would get home. You were very eager to see him, he had been gone for a couple of days and you were excited to finally have him back.
“Babe?” you called out from your place on the couch as soon as you heard the front door open and close.
“Yeah” he called out, and you should have realized that he sounded absolutely exhausted and really not in the mood for anything else other than catch up on some sleep.
But you didn’t think twice about it, instead skipping towards him and flinging yourself into his arms. He grunted at the impact, but wrapped his arms around your waist loosely in return.
“I missed you” you murmured against his chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone as you pulled away.
“Missed you too” he said, planting a quick kiss on your forehead before he slowly walked towards the couch, dragging his feet behind him.
Seeing him dragging his feet while walking should have been the next sign that you should have just let him get some rest, but the excitement of finally having him home had overruled every bit of common sense you had previously had.
And so, you followed him towards the couch, plopping down next to him.
You silently watched him, deciding to just go with it and start playfully pinching his waist and punching at his stomach.
Any other day, Lando would have indulged you immediately, but he just couldn’t muster up the energy to even think about play fighting at that exact moment.
“Jesus Y/N, can’t you see I’m fucking tired?!” he snarled, pushing your hands off of him.
You froze at that, cowering into the edge of the couch you were sitting on. You knew you shouldn’t take it to heart, you could see how tired he was and you should've taken it as a cue to just let him be. And yet, you didn’t.
Silently, you nodded and slowly got up, making your way towards your shared bedroom.
“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry” you said timidly before you left the couch, disappearing from the room in the next second.
Lando sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. The instant regret quickly settled into his mind, knowing he had just made a huge mistake by shouting at you.
He sat on the couch for a little while longer, trying to get his thoughts in order while you unknowingly buried yourself into the blankets on your bed, watching a show to distract your mind from what had just happened.
You knew deep down that you should have backed off from the moment you had seen him, how tired and completely broken he looked. But you didn’t, and Lando had been in the right in telling you to back off and leave him alone.
But the hurt was still there, his words and tone ringing in your ears. Lando had never been the type of person to yell or verbally abuse you, he didn’t believe that shouting and fighting solved anything. He preferred talking things through, but tonight something had just snapped.
You didn’t know how long you had been laying there by yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied on the show you were currently watching. At some point, you had heard Lando in the kitchen, most probably eating the food you had put aside for him.
And then, the footsteps slowly started getting closer and closer to the bedroom, the door slowly opening in the following moment. Lando stuck his head inside, seeing you concentrated on your phone in the middle of the bed.
He sighed, letting his head rest against the door for a moment before he entered the room and quietly shut the door behind him.
“Can we talk?” his voice was small, testing out the waters.
You sighed, closing your eyes for a moment before you closed your phone and nodded, sitting up and resting your back against the headboard.
“Sure” you said, smiling slightly at him to show him you weren’t mad at him.
“Look, I’m sorry for earlier. You know I always want to play with you and I’d never turn you away, but I’m just so exhausted that it was the last thing on my mind. But even so, I had no right lashing out at you like I did earlier” he said, slowly moving towards you as he spoke until he finally reached the bed and sat down next to you.
“You don’t have to explain yourself, I know. I saw how tired you were right when you came home, I should’ve just backed off and helped you relax. I was just shocked for a moment” you said, trying to make him feel better about the situation.
But he wasn’t having it.
He knew he had hurt you with how he had spoken, he knew he had been out of line and he needed to make sure you knew he would never do it again, not after seeing how hurt you had been.
“Don’t sugarcoat this. I yelled, and I promised never to yell at you. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you and I promise to never speak to you like that again” he said, taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to your palm.
You smiled, shifting closer to him to envelop him in your arms. He practically melted into the warmth of your body, the fatigue he had been hoping to evade slowly catching up to him.
“It’s okay, I know. I love you” you whispered, kissing the top of his head and running your hands through his curls that you loved so much.
He mumbled “I love you” back before he moved to properly lay on the bed on top of you, settling with his head on your chest.
And as you laid there together, you knew you were going to overcome this together.
You were going to be okay.
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