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minarisplaything · 11 months

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What You're Missing (Part 1) ft. Huh Yunjin

Prompt: you are dating kazuha, who is lovely, but has been putting off having sex until marriage. enter her step-sister yunjin who offers you a taste of what you've been missing word count: 1.6k pairing: huh yunjin x male reader, nakamura kazuha x male reader warnings: cheating

"oh fuck zuha..."

the sound of your moaned praise mixed with the vulgar sound that was already filling the room. the sound in question was that of your girlfriend, kazuha nakamura, bobbing her head up and down as she deep-throated your cock.

your hand rested on the back of her head, fingers tangled in her dark locks. however, you continued to let her work at her own pace as opposed to taking control and fucking her throat. this was all still relatively new to her and for better or worse you were willing to go at her speed as opposed to yours.

which, while the noble and right thing to do, was always a bit excruciating. there was an enjoyment in being the first to teach her certain things things; like telling her to pay attention to the underside of your cock or reminding her to play with your balls. it was sweet and there was value in going through these things together as a couple. you acknowledged that.

but well...

there were also times when you just wanted to get a nut off and the slow, leisure pace that kazuha worked at just wasn't cutting it. her head would bob slowly, almost tortorously on your cock. it felt good but there were times like tonight when you just wanted nothing more to be utterly spent. to have her eyes look up at you as she sucked your soul from your body. the imagery alone was enough to cause your cock to twitch in her mouth. the day she let you cum in her mouth and she swallowed it was the day you could finally die a happy man but the two of you hadn't even gotten to that point yet. for now it was only fantasy.

it was a process. despite your internal impatience you told yourself that. she'd be ready when she was ready and once she was you were sure it'd be a game changer. for now you just had to lay back and not think about it too much.

an hour later, you found yourself feeling restless. kazuha had fallen asleep peacefully next to you but your body refused to sleep. you had finished but it hadn't exactly been the euphoric release you were hoping for. as a result, you felt a desperate urge to go to the bathroom and rub one out just so you could get a goodnight's sleep. the only problem was that kazuha lived with her step-sister. honestly, you had only met her a handful of times and the idea of her hearing you or catching you defiling their bathroom was mortifiying.

so, in the end, you settled for making your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping the late night trip would clear the fog of horniess that still clouded your mind. if things continued like this it might be better off if you didn't spend the night. or, at least you would be able to go to sleep less frustrated.

"can't sleep?"

"jesus!"

a sudden voice cutting through the quiet of the apartment caused you to jump, nearly dropping the glass of water in your hand. you turned around, spotting the familar face of your girlfriend's step-sister in the dimly lit kitchen. "christ, yunjin. could you not sneak up on me like that?"

she grinned and gave a slight shrug, "it's not my fault you were so lost in thought that you didn't hear me coming. i wish i could say the same."

"what do you mean by that?" you questioned.

"'oh zuha! that's it! i'm almost there'" yunjin immitated in a moaning voice, her hand touching her neck.

it was during her little performance that you gave yunjin a closer once over. she was clothed only in a pair of pajama shorts that showed off plenty of her thighs and a white tank top that left no illusion of there being any support beneath them. by the time you looked up again the smirk and knowing look in her eye told you that she had caught you staring.

"see something you like?"

"n-no!" you quickly stuttered. "and i didn't sound like that!"

"you're right. you're acting was much worse," yunjin teased.

"i...i wasn't acting," you protested.

at least not fully. but you didn't have to admit that now. though whether you admitted it or not didn't seem to matter as yunjin crossed her arms over her chest, her breast pushing out slightly. she rolled her eyes before looking back at you.

"i know what it sounds like when a man comes. when a man really orgasms. what i heard tonight was not it," there was a definite tone in her voice, "but it's cute of you to do that for zuha."

that last part almost sounded mocking. feeling more defensive than ever your brows knitted together, placing down your cup of water. "you don't know what you're talking about."

"yes. i do. and you know i do."

yunjin took a step towards you. everything from her words to her demeanor was very matter of fact. but there was something else in there too. a lustful look that gave you a sense of trepedation. a look that said she just might swallow you whole if you let her. and a quiet part of your brain argued that you just might. fuck. stop thinking about it. yet despite your best thoughts, you could feel a stirring beneath your boxers. yunjin only grinned, moving closer as you were trapped between her body and the kitchen counter.

"i've been waiting for her to come ask me for advice but she hasn't yet. that must mean she thinks that she's doing a good job. or you've been telling her she has. either way it, clearly, isn't the case or this wouldn't be so hard would it?"

the this she was referring to was your hard cock which she now had in her hand, her fingers having snaked past the waistband of your boxers with ease. slowly she began to stroke your length, all while not breaking eye contact for a second. against your better judgement your cock twitched in her grasp. no matter how much the logical part of your brain yelled for you to pull up your boxers and run; the basic instinct in you couldn't help but note how good it felt.

"yunjin..."

"how long has it been since you've properly fucked something, huh?" she said, her tone getting more confident as she pumped your cock faster. "don't try to deny it, i know she's saving herself for marriage."

"t-there's nothing wrong with that," you managed to croak out in a low voice.

"of course there's not," yunjin laughed. "but where does that leave you?"

yunjin leaned closer, her voice coming out in a low whisper as her breath brushed against your ear, "when was the last time you felt a pussy squeezing around your cock?"

"oh, fuck."

your hips bucked, thrusting your cock into her grasp as she nibbled on your earlobe. it seemed like a simple enough gesture but the combination of yunjin pumping your cock; her body pressed flush against yours. and her mouth sucking on your earlobe turned out to be a heavenly combination. you tried to absolve yourself of responsibility, saying your body was just reacting this way because of how backed up you were. in reality, though, there was no denying that yunjin knew exactly what she was doing and it made a huge difference in the result.

"are you going to cum already?" yunjin taunted, your shaft throbbing in anticipation, "it took you twice as long as this to cum with zuha and she was using her mouth. tsk. you really need to send her to me for tips. i'll make sure she lets you cum in her mouth."

that particular comment sent your mind on a spiral. you imagined looking down and seeing zuha's lips wrapped around your cock as she vigorously bobbed her head back and forth on your cock. kneeling next to her was yunjin, holding kazuha's hair back and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. a mixture of instructions and vulgarities no doubt. as the image in your mind switched to yunjin sucking on your scrotum while zuha edged you towards orgasm, your grip tightened on the kitchen counter. your cock began to twitch, feeling completely different from what had happened earlier that night. when it finally hit your vision went white, a release like you hadn't had in some time washing over you.

"fuck!!"

your exclamation was louder than you intended but in that moment you didn't care. all you knew was pleasure and for a moment, your mind was blank.

as you opened your eyes and looked down you saw not the fantasy from your mind, but merely yunjin on her knees and wiping at the corner of her mouth. you had gotten someone to swallow your cum this night after all. just not nearly in the way you had imagined.

"holy shit..." you muttered.

"you came like a broken faucet" she commented, an amused tone in her voice. "my sister had you that backed up? that doesn't seem healthy."

you were speechless, not even able to muster a defense of your girlfriend. you were pretty sure if you let go of the counter your knees would give out at that point. yunjin, unphased, rose to her feet and patted you on the cheek softly.

"when you're ready to remember what pussy feels like, you know where to find me."

with that offer she turned on her heel and made her way out of the kitchen, presumably to bed. leaving you alone to ponder what the hell had just happened.

#lsfm smut #le sserafim smut #le sserafim x male reader #huh yunjin x male reader #huh yunjin smut #male reader #nakamura kazuha smut

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makeyoumine69 · 6 months

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Call Me Babydoll 4

PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Anything that seems too good to be true probably isn't. After a dinner with Patrick that didn't go well, you realized that your relationship with him is more complicated than you initially thought.

CONTAINS: Angst, mentions of food, cursing and use of pet names (babydoll), smoking, gaslighting & manipulation, humiliation & mild bulling.

WORDS: 4.1k

A/N: This chapter is a bit long, but I hope you enjoy it!💕

LINKS: [Ch.3]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]

God, you couldn't imagine a worse situation than this — being stuck in the limo with Patrick Bateman after he discovered your little secret about your virginity. Panicking from the lack of oxygen, you looked down at his deadly grip on your wrist, your brain overloaded with thoughts of a possible escape route.

"Patrick, I should go," you tried to release his grip when you noticed that the car had stopped, but he kept holding you tight. "My Dad is waiting for me!"

"Your father can wait a little longer," he demanded, pulling you a little closer, forcing you to raise your shy eyes to him. "Tomorrow we'll have dinner and talk about...this whole thing."

From the raspy sound of his voice, it was obvious that Bateman was doing his best to save what was left of his self-control, his skin burning yours with its heat.

"And what if I say 'no'?" You snapped at his cheeky way of speaking.

With a soft chuckle, he let go of your wrist and grinned as he saw you rubbing the spot where he was holding you a moment ago. "You don't want to upset your Dad, do you?" When Patrick met your confused gaze, the corners of his lips turned up. "I mean, the last thing you want is for your dear father to find out about all the nasty things you did…with me."

Your nostrils flared with anger, but you tried to play it cool. "What? Are you really trying to blackmail me?"

"No," Bateman grinned at your irritated stare. "Just a little reminder not to try to play games with me. It's pointless anyway."

Uh yeah, sure. We'll see who laughs last.

Saying nothing in return, you looked at him one last time before opening the car door and getting out.

"I'll pick you up at six. Wear something nice...something that hides your tattoos." Patrick ordered through the half-open window, the wide, smug smile never leaving his face.

The urge to turn around and show him your middle finger was so damn high, but as you faced the facade of your house, the memories of your father occupied your mind and stopped you at the very last moment.

"I don't have any of those clothes you're talking about," you simply replied, spinning around and crossing your hands over your chest. "Because I—"

"That's not a problem, babydoll. We can buy you some fabulous dresses or skirts," his brown eyes traveled over your body like a scanner, making you feel completely naked, you even shrugged off the shiver. "By the way, does your father forbid you to wear skirts or dresses because he knows someone would kidnap you? You have such pretty legs."

You closed your eyes and counted to ten to calm yourself. "I love my jeans, and pants are just much more comfortable for me!" Your voice trembled with embarrassment and anger. "If all the girls around you look like sluts in their skimpy dresses, that doesn't mean I have to! Jesus, why am I even trying to justify myself?!"

Your little tantrum only made him chuckle in pure satisfaction. "I have no idea why, but I like it," his arrogant smirk made you sick. After checking his Rolex nonchalantly, Bateman added, "See you tomorrow, (y/n). And tell your father that my old man has approved those investments we talked about a week ago."

Wait, what?

Now it was your turn to try to stop him, but just as the last word fell from his lips, the limo pulled away, leaving you with an unspoken question stuck in your throat like a lump.

The air of your house greeted you with a sharp smell of smoke, signaling that your father was home and not in a good mood — he had taken up smoking since your mother died, and now you knew pretty well that when he was feeling down only a cigarette could bring him some relief.

Walking slowly through the halls of your not-so-luxurious but spacious house, you found your Dad sitting in the living room with a glass of his favorite whiskey and a pack of cigarettes that he twirled nervously in his hand.

"Hey, Dad," you called out quietly, halting in the doorway — the strange pangs of guilty causing your heart to pound painfully against your chest. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, I didn't hear you coming," he turned to you, his wrinkled face lighting up the moment he saw your apprehensive expression. "I'm fine...just had a busy day," he put the cigarette in the ashtray and got up from his comfortable armchair. "How did you make it home?"

His sudden question caught you off guard, as your father didn't usually ask such things. Frowning, you stepped into the living room and looked at his tired face — he seemed to have aged even faster in the last few months, when his business had stopped being as profitable as it used to be.

"I'm fine, thanks," you carefully took a seat on the couch next to him, noticing that the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table was half empty. "Dad, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, my dear," your father smiled at you and poured himself another glass of alcohol before sitting back down in his armchair. "What is it?"

"Did you really ask Pat—" you stammered and coughed a little. "I mean, did you really ask Mr. Bateman to pick me up after work?"

Right after you asked, you tried to catch a glimpse of your father's reaction, to notice any strange expressions or anything that might discredit him, but to your surprise, your father just gave you a sympathetic grin, sipping his drink and looking at you adoringly.

"Maybe I did..." he tilted his head thoughtfully. "...or maybe I didn't. Forgive me for my bad memory, it gets worse every day."

Sighing, you couldn't help but smile at his words, as your father was always the one who could warm your heart just by saying a few simple words.

"All right, all right," you paused, rubbing your tense temples. "He asked me to inform you that the investments you discussed some time ago have been approved and..." as you noticed your father's face changing so quickly, you had to pause for a second. "...is it something important?"

Your father took a quick drag on a cigarette, blowing a few rings of smoke to the side to keep them away from you. "Did he really say that?"

"Yes," you fidgeted nervously in your seat, seeing your Dad's reaction. "Yes, he did."

"That's...that's one of the best pieces of news I've had in a long time," your father stood up again, looking for something. "I need to make a call..."

Nodding, you decided that now was not the best time to ask more questions, so you just decided to leave and go to your room, but as soon as you strolled away, you heard your father's enthusiastic voice again:

"(Y/n), wait," he stopped beside you, holding a phone in his slightly shaking hand. "I know I've always been too strict when it comes to you, but I've always tried to give you as much love and care as I could...since your mother..." His words cut right through your heart, and you even had to grit your teeth from the itchy tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Father, please...let's not talk about it." You interrupted him, not wanting to open up your old wounds.

"Uh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to tell you that...Patrick Bateman seems like a good man," you almost lost your sense of orientation in this room at his sudden statement. "I haven't allowed you to hang out with boys much, but you can get to know him better since he's been asking about you a lot."

Fuck, you couldn’t believe it.

First, Bateman had his eyes on you. Then he tried to seduce you, break you and make you forget your morals, and he fucking succeeded, because in the end Patrick managed to get his hands on you, and now his farther suddenly approved the budget for your Dad's business. Was this just a coincidence or another way to manipulate you?

"Well, you tried to protect me from...everything and everyone, I can't judge you..." you murmured as you reached the door. "You always want the best for me, so... I promise I'll think about it."

With that, you closed the door behind you, leaving your father alone in the living room. A wild cocktail of emotions swirled in your chest, as if you had drunk something extremely hot — you wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream. How on Earth did that happen? That your own father was directly encouraging you to get close with Patrick Bateman? Was that someone's bad joke?

As soon as you got to your room, you opened the closet, looking for some "fabulous" dress Patrick wanted you to wear.

"Fucking narcissistic idiot," you cursed aloud as you flipped through your clothes, getting more and more annoyed by the second. "Why do I even care what he thinks about my appearance?"

You exhaled tiredly and hid your face in your hands, feeling the strong shudder in every inch of your fragile frame. This man, damn it, this man was a devil himself, and your father just called him 'a good guy'.

Unbelievable.

"All right, I have to pull myself together." You moved quickly to the mirror, breathing steadily and rubbing your cheeks. "I'll do it for Dad, I'll figure it all out."

Winking at your reflection, you returned to your search for a suitable dress, not realizing that it was getting late.

The next day started with a heavy rain which woke you up with its sound, so loud that you couldn't fall asleep again. So, you decided to get up earlier and write a bit before your work.

Your father was already gone when you got downstairs — the memories of your earlier conversation were still running through your mind, leaving a bitter aftertaste. As you made yourself a cup of coffee with your favorite organic milk, you couldn't stop thinking about what might happen tonight — the unknown made you feel a little nauseous, but the breathing exercises your mother taught you always helped you in such moments. Uh, what would your mom say to you if she were here, if she knew the situation you were in?

Would Patrick be able to enchant her so easily?

The workday went by so quickly that you didn't even realize you were rushing back home in the taxi. During the ride, you tried to distract yourself with your poems, some of which you had written during the break at the café where you had been with Patrick the day before. After many attempts, you noticed that whenever you tried to describe the feelings Patrick evoked in you, it seemed as if your mind was losing touch with reality. The pen he gifted you was burning your skin as if it were some cursed relic, but yet this phantom pain was something you probably missed in your life, it didn't feel like grief or sorrow — it was something completely new.

Even though you were not a huge fan of Manhattan, you couldn't deny the fact that it looked absolutely breathtaking at night, with all its lights, mesmerizing atmosphere, and soaring skyscrapers that made your head spin whenever you looked at them.

There was no doubt that the restaurant Bateman was taking you to would be exquisite and luxurious, so when you entered the establishment, you were not surprised that most people were paying attention to your persona, as you had no jewels, no beaded clutch — just your modest but tight black dress, which was one of your shortest. The maître d' escorted you to your table, and from that moment on, the game began between you and Mr. Bateman, although your conversation didn't flow at first.

"So, do you like this place?" Patrick asked a little indifferently after swirling his drink — J&B Whiskey, that seemed to be his favorite.

"Mmm, yeah, it's pretty good." You replied, avoiding his gaze and staring at the napkin on the table that you were nervously crumpling.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Pretty good?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Uh," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose briefly. "Do you even know what this place is?"

Finally, you left a poor napkin alone and looked up at him. "This is Dorsia, right? I saw a sign outside."

For a moment his face remained blank, but the next moment a deep, prominent line appeared between his knitted brows.

"Yeah, this is fucking Dorsia," he spat out his words and took a sip of his whiskey. "Nothing special."

Actually, his suddenly confronting tone was embarrassing. "Well...I'm not a frequent guest in these chic restaurants. Come on, you know that."

Unfortunately for you, your voice sounded more sad than irritated, and Bateman didn't miss it. His warm palm touched yours gently, but he didn't dare to look at you.

"Huh," he mused, drawing an invisible line across the back of your hand with his soft fingertip. "It's pretty hard to impress a girl like you, since you just don't understand—"

"The taste of luxurious life?" You cut him off, causing him to raise his brown walnut eyes to your face. They looked so mysterious in the dim light of the restaurant hall.

Patrick pulled his hand away as if struck by the electric shock, clenching his jaw in tension, and this sight was something you never thought you would have to witness.

In a few minutes of awkward silence, the waiter brought your food, and since you refused to take any alcohol, you asked him to give you a dessert menu — maybe something sweet would cheer you up and help you get through this strange dinner that was hard to identify as a date or whatever it might be.

"We have amazing cheesecakes, good choice." The waiter replied as you handed the menu back to him.

"Thank you," you made yourself comfortable in your seat and gave Patrick a warm smile, which left him a bit confused. "I need something to compare with the desserts I've had in my favorite café."

Although you hadn't intended it to be a joke, you weren't irritated at all when you heard his soft chuckle for the first time during dinner. "Just don't tell anyone about this," he crossed his arms and looked at you with a mischievous grin. "I don't want the local chefs to end their lives."

"Oh, God," you laughed, looking at his drink. "Why do you all have to drink whiskey? My Dad can't work without a bottle of his favorite drink next to him," as soon as Bateman heard about your Dad, he straightened up in his seat and fixed his Rolex. "Speaking of him...can I ask you a question?"

"You can try, babydoll." Bateman sneered in a mischievous voice and looked around quickly as if he noticed someone familiar.

"I want to know about the investments—"

"Hey, Halberstram!" An unknown male voice echoed from behind you, shamelessly interrupting your conversation. "Haven't seen you for a while, how have you been?"

A handsome man with light brown hair — wearing a stylish suit that was one hundred percent overpriced — came closer to your table and offered Patrick a handshake, which he accepted, but you couldn't help but notice a glint of anger in his hazel eyes.

"Allen," Bateman shook his hand and then quickly glanced at a woman next to him. "I didn't expect to see you here, I heard you were on vacation in Paris."

"Well, Meredith didn't really like it, so we decided to come back a little earlier," Paul replied, pulling a beautiful blonde girl closer to him. "I thought Halloween was over." Allen chuckled and pointed at you, making you palpably uncomfortable. "Nice manicure, so gothic."

Frowning, you checked your black manicured nails and then looked up at him, suppressing your inner battle to tell him to fuck off. "Thanks." You replied coldly and noticed Patrick clenching his fists in tension.

"And where's Veronica, Marcus? That big-titted chick you were hanging out with at the last yacht party?" Allen asked, continuing to stare at you with undisguised interest.

What the hell was going on? Why did he call him Marcus?

"Veronica?" Bateman interjected, pretending to try to remember. "She's probably with her family in South Hampton."

"Oh, and who is this punk girl?" Paul's question made your nails claw at the soft skin of your knee.

Patrick closed his eyes for a second, definitely trying to find the best answer. It was obvious that a man like him didn't want to ruin his reputation, since you were not a person from his circle. This seemed to be a dead end until an unexpected idea came to your mind.

"I'm a journalist," you explained in a confident voice. "And I'm interviewing...Mr. Halberstram because I'm writing a book about Wall Street."

"Wow," Paul seemed to be surprised. "That's...pretty impressive."

"Yeah," Bateman cleared his throat and unclenched his fists. "She's one of the best journalists in New York, and she wants to write a book, too."

Oh my God, please shut up!

"It's pretty impressive that you were allowed to come here," Meredith suddenly blurted out, giving you a disgusted look. "There's a dress code, you know?"

"I'll leave you for a while, since you have things to discuss." You fumed and got up from the table — Patrick didn't even try to stop you.

In a few minutes, you found your way to the outdoor terrace on the upper level. As you stepped in, you noticed another blonde woman — she looked gorgeous, with her elegant, red-manicured fingers wrapped around the burning cigarette.

"Um, excuse me," you approached her from behind. "Could you pass me a cigarette, please?"

As soon as she turned around, you could see her sad blue eyes, cold as ice. "Sure."

Carefully, she reached into her black clutch to find a pack of cigarettes and offered you one.

"Thank you." You smiled after she lit your cigarette.

"No problem," she grinned back, looking away to see the lights of New York city. "It's so beautiful here, isn't it? I wish he could be with me right now."

Her question left you speechless, because you didn't know how to react, but just as you were about to say something, you heard the door open and the unknown man with the red hair joined you on the terrace.

"Courtney, you're here. I was looking for you," he chirped with an affectionate intonation. "The cocktails are ready."

Unlike the guy, the woman — that apparently was named Courtney — didn't seem happy, you would even say she was getting sadder — her previous words puzzled you, because now it was obvious she was talking about someone else.

With the last puff of smoke, Courtney took a quick glance at the night city and turned to you. "Take care."

Even a few moments after they left, you could still feel the wisp of sharp sadness in the air. Shivering with cold, you came closer to the railing, looked down and smoked, the signals of passing cars distracting you a bit from your train of thought — that fucking snobbish bitch and her supposed boyfriend pissed you off completely and you didn't really want to come back. Her behavior reminded you of why you hated yuppies, Wall Street, money, luxury. You hated it all, while your father tried his best to give you such a life so you could turn into a heartless ghost with no emotions except greed and...disgust?

A sudden touch of soft, warm fabric made you almost flinch. "Are you trying to catch a cold?" A familiar voice asked, and a jacket was wrapped around your trembling shoulders.

No way that could be him. "Patrick?"

The next moment, the owner of the familiar voice — which was indeed Patrick — deftly snatched the cigarette out of your mouth, eliciting an irritated groan from your chest. "You don't need this, believe me."

As you turned around, you watched him puff on your cigarette, but when he blew out a few rings, his face cringed in disgust. "Jesus, this is some girlish shit." Patrick ranted and quickly put out the cigarette.

"What are you doing here?" You crossed your arms in a defensive gesture and stepped away from him.

Patrick chuckled softly, your eyes accidentally glancing around his broad chest and the fashionable suspenders that looked so good on him.

"You could have just told me that you wanted to suffer alone on the terrace like a crybaby. Then I wouldn't have had to look for you all over the fucking restaurant." His voice became slightly stern as a sign of the high level of irritation — his patience seemed about to snap.

"I didn't ask you to come after me," you retorted, but didn't take off his jacket because it was so warm and nice. "Besides, what the hell was that? Why did that guy call you Marcus? Is that your real name? God, maybe you're a fucking scammer trying to deceive my father?"

His loud laugh echoed in the fresh air, Bateman couldn't help but applaud because your theory was fantastic. "That...that was hilarious, babydoll," he theatrically wiped away a few tears and came closer. "We stopped at your question about your father, as I recall."

"You know what?" you suddenly charged at him, almost bumping into his solid torso. "You should have hired several hookers instead of taking me to this useless dinner. At least it would have been a lot cheaper!"

"What?" He asked, still giggling as if you had told him another joke.

"My father has been waiting almost a year for some extra funding," you started, shortening the distance between you to a mere inches. "And just like in fairy tales, the necessary investments were approved as soon as you got your hands on me. What a great coincidence, don't you think?"

Patrick hummed to himself, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants. "Go on."

"You won't get it," your voice wavered, as if your nature refused to utter the words. "I know that rich guys like you can buy anything and everything — houses, cars, yachts, corporations, girls..." the more you spoke, the darker Bateman's eyes became. "Girls of all body types, ages, virgins or not, and so on. But for me — money is nothing, and I won't do it even for my father".

"You're done?" Patrick asked, pressing a finger to his lips and looking at you with an unreadable expression. When you nodded, he took you by the chin and tilted your head to the side, his thumb brushing against your lower lip as if by accident. "Now, listen to me, babydoll. I invited you to dinner because I wanted to apologize...for the things that happened between us..." your heart skipped a beat at his last words and your legs went weak, but you stood still, looking straight into his dark hypnotizing eyes. "I must say, you're a really cute, sweet girl, pretty even," he smirked as you shivered from his finger sliding down your neck. "But I don't want to be a babysitter."

"W-what?" You gasped, your voice barely audible as your breath hitched from the hard lump in your throat.

"(Y/n), listen, your father's business can be profitable enough, that's the only reason my Dad and I decided to finance it," Bateman removed his hand and stepped aside. "The long wait was caused by bureaucratic processes and my old man being away on business all the time."

There were no words to explain the feelings you were experiencing — frustration, deception, embarrassment?

"I…I understand," you bit your lower lip to keep the tears from forming in your dejected eyes. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

Just as you were about to take off his jacket, Patrick stopped you and after a small hug, he added: "Unfortunately, I don't like messing around with little girls because I'm pretty demanding when it comes to sex.” His arrogant grin was about to become the last straw of your self-control, but you kept fighting. "Let's go back to our table, your dessert must be waiting for you."

With a quick flick of your hand, you wiped away any traces of your tears when he didn't look at you. "I'm not hungry. Go, I'll join you soon."

Bateman gave you a worried look, then glanced at the railing and shook his head. "No, we'll come together, I'm responsible for you tonight and I don't want your father to be nervous."

How fucking cute.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 7 months

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Love Me, Anyway

Pairing: EddieMunsonxReader

Request: Joseph may have always grown up dreaming of having children and being a great father to them, and he plans to propose to his long-time girlfriend soon, just in time for her to find out that she will never have children because of a health problem related to her, and she decides to leave him, even though she loves him very much, thinking that she cannot give Joseph the life he wants.

Trigger Warnings: Infertility

You dragged yourself up the stairs of your apartment complex, each step feeling like a journey of a thousand of the most difficult miles of your life. Your body was a balloon and you were trying to keep all the air inside. Your arms wrapped around your stomach as if you could hold yourself together, keep yourself from falling apart. The news you’d received an hour ago had been a deep and crushing blow to your soul.

You failed. You were a failure, broken, incapable of doing the one thing that a woman was supposed to be able to do, that women had been doing since the dawn of time. Your entire world, the future you’d envisioned for yourself, crashing down in an epic, heart shattering explosion before your eyes. A piece of yourself was gone and you would never get it back. You’d failed yourself and worse than that, you’d failed the person you loved more than anything.

On autopilot, you dug in your purse for your key but when you inserted it into the lock, you were surprised to find the door was already unlocked. Shit. That could only mean one thing. You couldn’t do this. Not yet. You’d been hoping to drown in your misery, sob in silence where no one could hear you, prepare yourself for the inevitable second heartbreak, the one that was going to shatter your heart into a million pieces that could never be repaired again.

The briny smell of garlic and the tang of tomato fills your nose as you push open the door and enter your apartment. Jack Johnson’s ‘Better Together’ plays over the speakers in the kitchen as you catch sight of Joe, his back to you as he stirs sauce in a pot. Just the sight of those brown locks, curling gently at his neck, those broad shoulders underneath a cream sweater. Not just any cream sweater, your favorite one, the one that feels like you imagine a fluffy cloud would feel under your fingers.

“And all of these moments just might find their way into my dreams tonight. But I know that they'll be gone when the morning light sings,” Joe sang softly as he swayed, pouring the contents of the saucepan into the skillet.

He always said he couldn’t sing, that no one would want to hear him. But that was a lie because you loved to listen to him. His voice was your favorite sound in the world, usually so soothing, a balm to your soul. But tonight it was like torture, a voice that hissed in your ear, reminding you of all the things you couldn’t have. That picture the two of you had painted, the plans you’d made, the future you’d longed for, it was all gone. A blade had been taken to the canvas, shredding it until nothing was left and you were going to lose everything that mattered to you in a matter of hours. How would you ever survive such unimaginable loss?

Joe would never stand in this apartment again after tonight. He would never cook another meal for you, the two of you would never spend the night cuddled up on the couch watching movies, you would never tumble into bed with hands desperately grabbing for each other. This was the end. No happy ending for you. No prince whisking you off to your happily ever after. Your story was going to end painfully, brutally, and you had to accept that because you couldn’t do this to him. You couldn’t deprive this man you loved so much of the one thing he’d always wanted so much.

“Joe…” you said softly, three small letters, one syllable that your voice struggled to make.

The pan clanged as he spun around, his hand coming up to his chest, “Jesus darling, you scared me.” He laughed, his hands finding your arms, pulling you in, tucking you into the safety of his chest. Your cheek ran over the soft material of his sweater, your nose breathed him in, trying to absorb every minute detail of this moment that could be your last. “I was trying to surprise you with dinner but you surprised me. I didn’t expect you home so soon. Don’t you normally get off work at five?”

“Yeah,” you managed, unsure how, his arms the only thing that was keeping you from sinking to the floor. “I had an appointment today so I left early.”

“Appointment?” Joe pulled back, hands gripping your biceps, chocolate button eyes full of concern, concern that only fractured you that much more. “What kind of appointment? You didn’t mention anything. Is everything alright?”

“No…I mean, yeah…I mean, everything’s fine,” you lied, your eyes closing as you inhale slowly through your nose. You had to stay strong. You had to hold yourself together just a little longer, enough to do what you had to do, and then you could let yourself crumble. “It was just a routine appointment with my gynecologist. It didn’t seem worth mentioning and I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Well, I didn’t say anything because I wanted to surprise you.” Joe releases his hold on you, leaving you cold, slipping under, into the darkness, desperate for his arms again. He waves his arm toward the stove. “I am making puttanesca, your favorite, and I got us a great bottle of wine.”

“Fancy. What’s the occasion?” you mumbled, your hand grabbing onto the counter, bracing yourself. You were drowning, flailing, struggling to keep your head above water.

“You,” he mused with a lopsided smile, his hands locking around the small of your back. Soft, plush lips brushed over yours so gently that you had to swallow down the tears that were fighting like a flood raging against a dam. “You’re the occasion, my love. You’re always the occasion. Do I really need a special reason to have a romantic evening with my girl?”

“No…of course not…”

“Have a seat and relax. I’ll make you a plate and pour you a glass of wine.”

Just do it, you told yourself. Get it over with. Rip off the band-aid and let the wound bleed. It would only be harder if you allowed this romantic evening he had planned to continue. Better to just do it. He would leave. You could fall apart and Joe would have the opportunity to move on with his life, to find someone who could give him everything he’d ever wanted because it wasn’t you. It couldn’t be you. Not anymore. You were broken, defective, and this man deserved a woman who was whole.

Your brain may be on board but your body was not. Your feet took you to the table, your knees bent as you sat in the chair. Your heart was desperate for one more evening, one more dinner, one more moment where it could pretend that everything was okay. Where it could gaze upon that perfect face, the face you never tired of looking at, and know that it was yours. Just a bit longer and then you would let him go because it was the right thing to do.

Joe set your plate down in front of you, the pasta dish looking delicious, but your stomach twisted violently. You didn’t think you could put anything in your mouth right now, bile rising up in your throat. Shit. Were you going to be sick? No. You swallowed it back. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth, inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. The urge dissipated and you sighed in relief, picking up your fork, moving the food around, hoping he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t actually eating.

“How was your meeting?” you asked, hoping it would get Joe talking because you didn’t trust yourself to say much. You were hanging on by a thread, a breath away from completely coming undone.

Joe took a sip of wine, grinning widely, “Really well. Really well. I am excited about this project. The script is amazing, really dark and unique. It’s a real psychological trip. Great fun but also mind fucking in the best way. It’s different from anything else I’ve ever done.”

“Good, I’m glad. I know you’re trying to have a really diversified body of work.”

“I am. I don’t want to get pigeon holed, you know? If you’re not careful in this business, you get typecast. I was worried after Stranger Things. Don’t get me wrong. That was great fun. I loved the cast and crew on that show and I am so grateful for the doors it opened. I wouldn’t have the opportunities I have now if it weren’t for that role but the way it blew up, the love the fans had for Eddie…it just concerned me that I wouldn’t get taken seriously as an actor. But I feel like I’ve done a good variety of roles now that have shown the range of my skills.”

“You have,” you mumbled into your glass, taking a long drink of your wine, willing it to calm your nerves, to relax your muscles. “When will filming start?”

“In four months,” he answered, mistaking the look on your face, thinking it was concern about him traveling for work. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve been through this before. I’ll fly back when I can and I’ll fly you in to visit. Filming will probably take a little over three months. Besides, I predict you could be quite busy while I’m gone.”

You looked up at him in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Joe’s lips pressed together for a moment and he suddenly looked nervous. His head tilted to the side, those beautiful lips curving into the sweetest smile. Leaning forward, elbows resting on the table, those soft brown eyes meeting yours.

“Darling, I love you so much.” A weight so heavy it was going to crush your heart slammed into your chest. “These past two years have been the most amazing year of my life. I can’t imagine doing any of this without you. I want you by my side always. You make me better. It’s been so hard knowing who I can trust, who is genuine but never with you. I know you love me. You don’t care about the fame or the money or any of the celebrity bullshit. You just want me. You’ve been my safe place. You’re my home and I know, without a single doubt, that you always will be. You’re the person I want to come home to. You’re the person I want to sleep next to every night and the face I want to see when I open my eyes every morning.”

He rose from his chair, coming around the table to stand in front of you. Your heart hammered in your chest, blood rushing so forcefully you could hear it whooshing in your ears. Joe’s hand slid into his pocket, revealing a small velvet box and you whimpered. No. This could not be happening. Not now. Not today.

This beautiful man lowered himself to one knee, opening the box and presenting the most beautiful, simple princess cut ring to you. Emotions lodged in your throat, strangling you, cutting off your air supply. Your eyes widened, hysteria taking over. Hand clutched at your shirt, pulling it away from your body as you tried to tell yourself this wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening.

“I knew from the moment I met you that night at the pub that you were my forever. I told Wes I was going to marry you one day and I don’t want to wait even one more moment to start the rest of my life with you. Darling, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“I…oh god…Joe…I…this is…what…” you stammered, tears flooding your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

Grief as you had never known crashed down over you like a tidal wave. This man, this beautiful, wonderful, perfect man was asking you to spend the rest of your life with him and you couldn’t even if it was the one thing you wanted more than anything in your life. You couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t condemn him to a life that was lacking, a life that wasn’t what he wanted. You couldn’t stand to see resentment in his eyes years down the road, resentment directed at you because his life wasn’t what he’d pictured. You were going to drown in this grief, the tidal wave pulling you out to the deepest depths of the sea.

Joe chuckled nervously, his thumb running over your cheek, collecting some of the tears, “I hope these are tears of joy that you are shedding, sweetheart.”

“Joe…”

The word was a plea, a grief-stricken cry, a desperate sob and then your shoulders were shaking. Your body folded in half and Joe’s arms were instantly around you, pulling you to him. You slid off the chair and down into his lap. His breath was warm against your ear, lips brushing over your cheek.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he questioned, his voice panic-stricken.

“I can’t,” you cried, shaking your head, your face buried against his neck.

All you wanted to do was stay here, in the safety of his embrace, surrounded by his warmth and comfort, but you couldn’t. You had to do this and you had to do it now. You pushed away from him, wiping your eyes and rising to your feet. Joe followed, standing in front of you, hands reaching out but you backed up before he could grab you.

“Love, what is this? What’s happening?”

“Joe, I can’t marry you,” you rasped, body trembling as you fought back the tears, fought to regain control of yourself.

“What?” He stepped forward and you stepped back again. “Why the hell not?”

“Because…” What reason could you give him that would make any sense? There was none. There was no reason in the world why you shouldn’t marry this perfect creature. No reason you should be causing the pain that was etched onto that beautiful face. “Because it wouldn’t work, Joe. There’s no way this works.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his hand closing around the velvet box, squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “Is this about my work? I know my job is…different. I have to be away sometimes but we’ve made it work so far.”

“Joe, I know but it doesn’t work for a long term marriage. I need stability. I need someone I can depend on to be here. I…” You were lying through your teeth but you knew you had to make it hurt if he was ever going to believe you. You needed him to walk away because you weren’t sure you were strong enough to do it. “I need someone that I can trust.”

Joe reeled back as if you’d slapped him, “And what the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re always traveling. You’re always surrounded by these beautiful women. Your co-stars and the models you’ve done shoots with and the fans that throw themselves at you. How am I supposed to sit at home all the time, wondering what you’re doing?”

“When have I ever given you cause to doubt me?” he pleaded, his hands open in front of him as if begging you. If he didn’t stop, you were going to give in. Your heart couldn’t handle this.

“It’s only a matter of time, Joe. What celebrity has ever had a successful marriage? You’re a man. You can only resist temptation for so long. It’s inevitable.”

Those eyes that were usually as warm as a cup of coffee turned ice cold and you knew you’d succeeded. You’d broken the two of you, shattered it irrevocably, just like your heart. Joe would hate you. He would despise you for thinking such things of him but that’s what had to happen if he had any chance of being happy in the future.

“That’s what you think of me?” he hissed, stepping back. “You really think I’m capable of doing something like that to you? You doubt us so much that you can’t see this working? You think we’re doomed?”

“I do,” you insisted, lifting your chin in defiance, putting on an air of strength and resolve that you didn’t have. “Joe, this has been fun but that’s all it was. That was all it was ever going to be.”

With two long strides, he stepped into you, tilting his head, eyes boring into yours, “Bullshit.”

“Wh…what?” you gasped.

“Bullshit. I don’t believe you. You just told me you love me. Fun does not last for two years. I’ve felt you, darling. The way you kiss me, the way you cling to me when we make love, the way you want me,” he growled. His nose brushed along your forehead, moving down your cheek and you shuddered. “I’ve heard you, the things you whisper in my ear while I’m inside you, the promises you’ve uttered while we lay in bed. That’s not fun. That’s forever.”

“Joe, I…please…” you begged, eyes slipping closed when his hand slid under your shirt, splaying over the skin of your back. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Make what harder? Your bullshit break-up? The lies you’re telling me?” His lips molded to yours and your own responded, betraying you, instantly recognizing and wanting him. His forehead pressed against yours with a smile. “See? You love me. So, what is this really about? Why are you trying to destroy a really fucking good thing?”

“You don’t want me,” you cried, eyes slipping closed, tears creating trails of heartbreak down your cheeks. “I can’t be what you need, Joe. Trust me. This is the best thing.”

“Why would you say that? Why would you even think that?”

His arms were around you again, crushing you to his chest. His chin rested on the top of your head, the insanely soft sweater caressing the skin of your cheek. The sweater you were currently soaking with your tears, probably ruining with your smeared make-up but Joe didn’t seem to notice or care as he held you. His grip was like iron, keeping you from pulling away, as if he could stop you from leaving.

“Darling, I want you with every fiber of my being. I have never wanted anything more than I want you, the future we have planned together, the life we’ve dreamed of. You are what I need. You’re all I need. I can’t do this without you.”

“But I can’t give you that future. That dream is nothing but that, a dream, if you stay with me.”

“What are you going on about?”

A sigh of defeat rushed from your lips, knowing you would have to tell him. There was no escaping this. You’d thought you could anger him enough to make him walk away but he’d called your bluff and it was time to put all of your cards on the table. You pulled back as much as you could, tilting your head up to look into his face.

“That doctor’s appointment…it wasn’t just a routine exam. I missed my period. I didn’t think much of it because my periods have always been irregular. But then I missed another one. I thought I might be pregnant but I’m not…I never will be. I’ve also been so tired lately. I’ve had trouble concentrating at work. They ran some tests and I have primary ovulation insufficiency. I don’t ovulate. I can’t have kids, Joe.”

His lips parted, eyes widening in shock. There it was. Now he would know. He would understand. Joe would agree with you. The two of you had dreamed of a future with children. He wanted at least three, a big family. He wanted to be a dad so badly and you couldn’t give that to him. Of course he wouldn’t want you.

“I’m defective,” you whispered, attempting to pull back from him but he simply held on tighter. “I’m broken. You don’t deserve that. How can we be together when I can’t give you the one thing you want more than anything?”

“The one thing I want more than anything is you,” Joe stated, one hand sliding along your back to cup the back of your neck. “I am so sorry. You went through all of this alone? Darling, why didn’t you just tell me? I could have been there for you. I would have gone to the doctor with you.”

“How could I tell you? You’ve made it very clear that you want children, Joe. You have always dreamed of being a dad. You’ve gone on and on about all the things you want to do, the experiences you want your kids to have, when you’re a dad. I knew I was going to lose you if the test didn’t go my way.”

Joe’s face scrunched and you fought the urge to kiss his nose, “Why would you lose me?”

“Joe, are you even listening to me?” you groaned.

“I am. I’ve heard everything that you’ve said. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your ability to give me children. I fell in love with you because you’re perfect for me. You’re everything I could have ever wanted, everything I’ve dreamed of. If we want kids someday, there are ways. We can always adopt.”

“But they wouldn’t be yours,” you argued.

“Of course they would be. Genetics are not everything, sweetheart. Love is. There are so many kids out there who need loving homes, need someone to treat them like the most important person in the world. And we would. You will be an amazing mother, if that’s what you want.”

“I do. I just…I feel like such a failure. My body is incapable of doing the thing that essentially makes me a woman.”

“The ability to birth children does not define who you are,” Joe stated, shaking his head. “Your strength, your kind heart, your beautiful soul…those are what makes you who you are. Anatomy has nothing to do with that. You are the most perfect person I know. There is nothing defective about you.”

“You still want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it, terrified the rug would get pulled out from under you the minute you allowed yourself to.

“Of course I do. Darling, there is no one else for me but you,” he asserted, pulling the ring from his pocket once again. “Now, can we try this again?” He opened it, holding it out in front of him. “Would you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me because you are my absolute everything?”

You looked down at the ring and then up into the face of the man you loved. Your friends rolled their eyes when you gushed about how perfect he was but it was true. There was not another man out there who could hold a candle to Joe and there would never be another man for you.

“Yes,” you grinned, nodding. “Yes!”

“That’s the correct answer,” he laughed, one hand grabbing onto your waist, pulling you in for a soft, sweet kiss.

“I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too and we are going to have the most amazing life together,” Joe breathed, sliding the ring onto your left hand. “You and me forever, darling.”

“You and me, forever,” you agreed, wanting nothing more.

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iiconicxpersona · 9 months

Text

Whatever It Takes.

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: this fic features a scene from s02e03 Our Man in Madrid and that episode is a trigger warning in its own, but if you need specifics then this fic includes ANGST, mvrder, su!c!d3 attempt, depression, alcoholism. MINORS DNI & READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (I cannot stress that enough)

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Javier get tagged along in a manhunt gone wrong with the return of Colonel Carrillo. After the tragedy that occurs, you look to Javier for comfort only to get heartbroken when he seeks comfort from another woman.

From the moment you were assigned the Escobar case in Bogotá, you prepared yourself for the best and the worst. You knew that once this case was finally over, and God only knew how long that would take, you would not return to Texas like the woman you were when you left. However, it didn’t seem to matter exactly how much you prepared yourself ahead of time in all aspects; nothing was ever going to prepare you for all the horrors you had witnessed and the ones still yet to come.

“We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

Words you, Agent Javier Peña, and Agent Steve Murphy repeated to each other almost frequently to remind yourselves and each other that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to do whatever it took to catch Escobar and every single person whoever took a single dollar from him. Of course, Messina and the entire force did everything they could to keep your missions restricted, but to catch a bad guy; you must be willing to break some rules.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Colonel Carrillo was the King of playing by his own rules. His methods were cruel and relentless, but they were effective in one way or another. But those same methods ultimately led him to be transferred to Spain. When he was brought back on the team by the Colombian government, it shook you to the core, and the only problem was that you could no longer tell if that was good or bad.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The first mission at hand with Colonel Carrillo is to track down every spotter Escobar had hiding in the area. It seems simple enough, considering the spotters were mainly children under eighteen.

“Peña, Y/L/N, you come with me.” Carrillo orders.

You and Javier exchange looks of concern to each other and then to Steve, who's disappointed when Carrillo tells him to stay behind for radio contact.

“You be careful out there,” Steve adds as you and Javier follow Carrillo to one of the unmarked cars.

“You got your vest on?” Javier asks without looking at you.

You nod and pat your stomach hard enough to make the bulletproof padding audible. “I never leave without it.”

“Good. This could get ugly, so I want you to always stay beside me. Understand?” He finally looks at you while still walking forward.

“Jesus, Javi, this isn’t my first rodeo.” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by your comment. “Cariño, I’m fucking serious. These kids are dangerous, and the last thing I want is for you to underestimate one, and he holds you at gunpoint or worse.”

Just then, you remembered what Javi had told you the day Steve’s adopted baby girl, Oliva, was rescued, and you instantly regretted trying to be sarcastic. He never told Steve, but while they were chasing down the two men responsible for murdering Olivia’s biological family and you were in the house guarding her, Javier came close to catching one of the men until a little boy caught him off guard from behind and held him at gunpoint. Javier was sure that at any moment, the kid would pull the trigger and kill him, or worse, he would miss his shot, and Javier would have to kill the kid instead. Thankfully, once the guy he was chasing got away, so did the kid, and ever since then, Javier knew that with the right amount of money and power, Escobar could make anyone do anything.

“Always stay beside me. Understand?” Javier demandingly repeated.

You nod. “I understand.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

One by one, each kid that Escobar hired as a spotter was taken into custody. However, Carrillo had other plans instead of taking them straight to the station for interrogation like you and Javier thought.

Given Carrillo's extreme methods in the past, you should’ve known that this wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped. Though you figured that because they were just kids, what could go wrong?

Everything.

One right next to the other, at least seven boys are lined up in the middle of a dark alley with their hands behind their heads and sitting upright on their knees. You stand next to Javier off in the distance while Carrillo paces slowly in front of them. As you examine their faces, it breaks your heart to see how young they are. Some look at least sixteen, but the youngest looks six or seven.

They try to keep stone-cold faces on while Carrillo attempts to scare them straight. A couple of the boys laugh at him and make insults in Spanish.

“Shut up, kid.” Javier mumbles.

You do your best to look as emotionless as possible, but mentally, you are frightened to know what is going through Carrillo’s mind, especially when he pulls out his gun and begins loading it in front of them.

One of the older boys laughs and asks Carrillo if he should be scared.

“No,” Carrillo replies.

BANG.

You stood there and watched the now young lifeless body slowly fall to the ground. Aside from the streetlights, the alleyway is pitch dark due to the summer evening, but you’d swear you could see everywhere the boy’s blood had splattered as if it happened in daylight.

It took every fiber in your being not to lose your cool or vomit at the scene. You were even too afraid to reach for Javier, who was only a couple of inches away from you, for some comfort. Although judging from how his body tensed up and the look on his face, he was just as distraught inside as you were.

What was Carrillo thinking? Even if the kid tried to be a fearless macho man about it, he was still just a kid. There were plenty of other ways Carrillo could’ve tried to prove a point to them about the dangers of working with someone like Escobar. Regardless of whether you liked it, he gave them a harsh reality check.

Carrillo then takes one bullet from his gun and hands it to the youngest boy, telling him to give it to Escobar and let him know who it is from. You watch helplessly as the boy takes the bullet with tears running down his face and stuffs it in his pocket. Then Carrillo finally sets the remaining boys free. You immediately cling to Javier once they are out of sight.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your best to hold back your sobs.

“Cariño…” Javier struggles to find the right words. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine? “We have to go.” He finally said.

Whatever it takes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is one of those nights you wish Javier wouldn’t depend on a cheap hooker to help him forget.

About six months ago, after almost losing you during a shootout mission, Javier suggested that you move in with him “for your safety,” which you hesitantly accepted two months later. Murphy always teased how Javier always had a soft spot for you, and although you couldn’t deny you also had a soft spot for Javier, you tried to keep your crush precisely that: just a crush. Even if it nearly killed you inside when he would come home late smelling of sex, cheap perfume, and cigarettes.

While staring blankly at a pile of paperwork, your mind couldn’t stop replaying what happened less than an hour ago. Steve tried talking to you about how frustrated he was about Carrillo not trusting him to tag along with the mission, but his words only went in one ear and out of the other.

“You should be grateful.” You finally spoke up, still not taking your eyes off the paperwork.

At that moment, Steve gave up on his argument. As much as he hated feeling like an outsider because of his looks, nationality, or poor Spanish, he knew his troubles were nothing compared to what you and Javier were going through at this very moment.

You could hear Javier mumbling under his breath on the phone at his desk, which generally meant he was talking to one of his hookers. At that point, you were already two shots deep in tequila and resting your head on your arms to hide your face like the game you used to play at school as a kid.

You hated the jealous feeling that crept up inside you as he talked to her about meeting with her in the next half an hour.

Why tonight of all nights? Or if he needed a good fuck to help him forget, then why couldn’t it be with you? You were there. You saw everything happen just as he did. Did it ever occur to him that maybe you needed a night of meaningless sex to help you forget everything too? In all the years you had known Peña, he had no shame in screwing every woman in sight, but he never once offered to put his hands on you. Sure, you flirt with each other almost every day, but would there ever be more? Were you not pretty enough? Or not skinny enough? Or because you didn’t open your legs to every man in sight?

“Cariño, you all right?” Javier’s low voice startles you out of your thoughts. He places his hands on your shoulders and begins to massage you once you sit up and lean back into your chair, feeling your body relax under his touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your voice is now hoarse from choking back all the tears and emotions.

Javier leans down and wraps his arms around your upper body with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t you disappear on me, okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek and gives you one last squeeze.

“I gotta run a few errands, but I’ll be home late.”

Desperation kicks into high gear, and you cling to his arms for dear life. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need to clear my head. You understand, right?” He pulls away from you once your grip loosens, but you still reach for him.

“Well yeah, but…”

“But what!” He snaps at you in frustration.

Then it hits you in that very second like a ton of bricks: you and Javier Peña will never be more than just friends.

You let go of his hand when the tears build up again. “You know what? Just go. I won’t wait up.”

Realizing what he had just done, a wave of guilt washes over Javier, and he slowly steps towards you. “Shit, cariño I’m sor…”

“I said go!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the night's end, you had already downed most of the tequila. Murphy knew Javier would kill him if he had let you go home by yourself, so being the southern gentleman he is, he gave you a ride home.

On the inside, you were trying to fight off too many emotions. You didn’t dare to let Steve see you cry, especially after witnessing your little moment with Javier. For what? So that he can tell Javi, and they can laugh at how pathetic you are behind your back? Though you knew they would never do that, it was still a fear that helped keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks for the ride, Murphy.” You half smiled at him.

“Of course.” He could hear the pain in your voice, but he tried his best to keep cool. You’re already going through enough as it is. “Hey, just know I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“You’re a good man, Steve. Connie’s a lucky girl.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the cheek before letting yourself out of the car.

You dread every single step toward your shared apartment with Javi. You dread it so much that if you were stable enough, you’d walk to your old apartment two buildings over. Most of your stuff is still there, considering you had just moved in with Javier four months ago. You had only brought essential things like clothes, makeup, bathroom stuff, and a few sentimental values. But the fact that you were barely making it on your own to Javi’s front door was enough to make you rethink.

Once you stumble inside, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it is. Too quiet. Not that you and Javi were noisy people when he didn’t have women over, which thankfully wasn’t often ever since you moved in. But even then, the apartment is never this quiet. You hate the silence. It only made the events of tonight replay louder and louder in your brain.

Throwing off your coat and shoes, you let them land wherever as you make your way to the radio and turn it on to a local rock station with the volume on full blast. You swerve over to Javier’s liquor cabinet and mindlessly scan around at each of his selections. The one bottle of bourbon he saved for special occasions had caught your eye. Judging from how rich the bottle looks, it must be one of his most expensive liquors. Your conscious told you to stop, but the music and your drunk state of mind were enough to tune it out. You grab the bottle from the glass shelf and gnaw the cap off before downing the liquor like water.

You never smoked a cigarette, but once you found Javier’s carton in the cabinet, you pulled out a fresh pack and ripped off the plastic wrap. Javier was already a heavy smoker as it was, but he seemed to smoke a lot more when he was stressed out, and you wanted to know what it was like. If it helps Javi calm down, why wouldn’t it help you?

You flick the first white stick out of the small paper box as if you were already a natural to smoking. Not that you would admit it out loud, but after seeing Javi do it a few times, you were tempted and tried it for shits and giggles.

Lighting the stick between your lips, you inhaled deeply only to choke out the nicotine and smoke immediately. “I can’t believe Javi likes this shit.” You gag.

The first few puffs were disgusting, and if it weren’t for the bourbon making it easier to wash down the horrid taste, you would’ve thrown up after the first puff. But soon enough, you were already on your second and third cigarette. Each smoke is smoother than the last.

Dancing around in the living room in a tank top and panties, with a cigarette in your mouth and another bottle of whiskey in your hands, you were on cloud nine, and for the first time that night, nothing else mattered. You weren’t aware of how much you had already drunk or how you were already almost finished with the first pack of cigarettes. You even forgot you were in Javier’s apartment until the clock caught your attention. It’s 2:30 am, and Javier still isn’t home. If you were sober, you probably would’ve been worried sick about him, but his delay made you angry. He didn’t have to spend the night with another cheap hooker, and if he did feel the need to, he could’ve at least called you to let you know he wasn’t coming home.

How dare he? After everything you two had been through tonight, how dare he leave you alone? How dare he not be here so you two can try to comfort each other? How dare he yell at you in front of Murphy, embarrassing you when you only wanted him to stay? How dare he be a typical douchebag and leave you just to get his dick wet by some random bitch he barely knows? How dare he not see that you care about him so damn much? How fucking dare Javier Peña!?

At that moment, you refused to reason anymore and instead let your anger-fueled adrenaline take complete control of your body.

His precious liquor cabinet is the first item to fall victim to your rage. You push it off the wall with full force and watch it slowly crash to the ground, just like the little boy did in the alley. Then you grab every bottle that didn’t break in the fall and throw them in random areas of the living room. Only the shattering noise, your cries, and the loud music fill the void that is Javier’s apartment.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You don’t remember how you wound up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet with more bourbon in one hand and your pistol in the other. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins uncontrollably, and you couldn’t feel any of the cuts that formed all over your body from the broken glass. Miraculously, none of which were too deep to leave a permanent scar.

There’s no telling how long ago your rampage began, but suddenly the radio that was once blaring rock music had gone silent. You didn’t care. You sat there hugging your knees with the hand holding the pistol while continuing to drink.

You could hear heavy footsteps slowly inching closer to the bathroom, and then he turned the corner with his pistol pointing directly at you.

“C—Cariño…” Javier mumbled in shock.

He was about to rush to you, but then he froze in place the second you extended your arm and aimed your pistol at him. “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer.” You demand.

Suddenly, every ounce of color was flushed from Javi’s face. He slowly put his gun down on the sink and raised his hands in surrender. The image made you chuckle as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Baby, plea—”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, and it catches you both off guard. “All I wanted was for you to stay with me. To help me forget. But no! Typical Javier Peña; you had to think with your dick! You didn’t even care enough to call me to let me know when you’ll be home or to see if I was all right. Do you realize that I probably would’ve never made it home if it wasn't for Murphy? Thank God he’s a fucking decent human being, unlike you!” At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears as you cock the gun, making Javier tense up in fear for the second time.

“Cariño, I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been here for you, and I know that now. But please don’t do this.” Javier pleaded.

“It’s too late.” You choke out.

Javier felt his heart stop when you pointed the gun barrel at your temple. In his mind, he had already snatched the gun from your hand, but physically he couldn’t move.

However, once you pulled the trigger, the only sound filling the apartment was a click.

You gasp at the reality of what you were about to do and drop everything in your hands. Only then did Javier find the strength to stumble over and embrace you tightly in his arms.

You hyperventilate and bawl into his shirt as Javi tries to calm you down. Once again, your hands cling to him for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Javi!” You cry.

“Shh. Shh. It’s all right, baby. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He strokes your hair and slowly rocks you back and forth in his arms until you finally fall asleep.

Javier gently picks you up bridal style and carries you to his room, where he could grab a wet towel and some hydrogen peroxide to clean some of your cuts off before tucking you into bed. He took a second to sit there and stare at you as you slept peacefully. If he didn’t feel guilty before, he does now.

Javier sometimes liked to think of himself as a sharp man, but he was blind when it came to you. Murphy often told him that anyone could see you two were head over heels for each other, but he never accepted it as the truth. He never thought you cared about him as more than a friend. And he blew it when he finally had his chance to prove to you that he was worthy of your heart.

There was no telling how long it would take you to forgive him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to regain your trust. He’s all in now, and this time, he wouldn’t make this mistake again.

#narcos #narcos fic #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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ericsprincess · 7 months

Text

feel my breath on your neck

nc-17, smut, vampire!Hyunjae, cunnilingus, period sex

~~~

You get your period while fighting with your vampire boyfriend.

~~~

“For fucks sake, Hyunjae, how many times do I have to remind you to pick up your dirty clothes! I’m not your mom!”

“Y/N, I really don’t want to watch another reality tv, can we watch something else, for once? Ugh.”

“Could you, please, put your dirty bloody cups into the dishwasher? This must be a biohazard, you slob.”

“There is literally no space in the bathroom with all your cosmetics shit, it’s a bit too excessive, don’t you think? Who even needs so much? Jesus..”

And this was just the last 2 days. You hate to admit that, but these past few days were not easy on either of you, both separately and together. You are drowning in work deadlines, your coworkers are incompetent and your boss keeps adding you more responsibilities. You’re slacking off your workouts and that’s not only making you feel upset, but also the lack of physical activity is definitely having a detrimental effect on your mood. Which is already in gutters, because you’re definitely PMSing and in a shitty and snappy mood all the time.

Hyunjae, on the other hand, while having it breezy in his job, has different problems. Not only are there some dumb political fights in his coven that he has to navigate, but what’s worse, his favorite fancy blood bag brand has an outage and so he had to delegate to cheaper, less tasty ones. Which for him, a picky eater par excellence, is pretty much the same as an actual torture, as he had been drinking this “iron-flavoured mud” for weeks at this point. \

And on top of that, your apartment looks like a pigsty because neither of you is feeling like cleaning. And also, there is barely any food. For you, that is. You are acutely aware that just your existence is like flaunting a prime steak in front of Hyunjae and telling him that he can’t have any of it. He can only sip on his great value blood bags, while looking at you, walking around like nothing is happening. Like he can’t sense your blood running through your body even from another room.

You know you could offer him to drink from you, but since he’s been pissing you off, he can suffer. It’s not like it will harm him and if he were that desperate, he could always ask. And he’s not asking. Just staring really intensely.

So both of you are hitting low, and it shows. You haven’t even had sex in a week and while you could really use some comfort and intimacy, as well as the release, you are not quite desperate enough to initiate, not when you’re somewhat in a fighting mood. You know this will pass, it always does, and one or both of you will cave and you will make up, but you’re not quite there yet. Today, Hyunjae can go to hell, for all it matters.

And boy, are you going through it today. It’s already late evening when you finally came home, flinged your bag somewhere in the hallway and kicked off your shoes. You took a shower mostly with closed eyes and now you’re chilling on the couch with some makeshift dinner you made out of whatever you could find in the fridge, watching some dumb action movie. The lights in the living room are off, only the TV being a source of light and you’re swaddled in the blanket like a baby. Finally some rest. Your eyes are tired, your feet hurt and you’re already getting cramps, so you’re really glad you can rest for a bit. You have no idea where Hyunjae is, and frankly, you don’t care.

You’re almost falling asleep when an explosion from the TV resonates through the room and wakes you up from dozing off. You sit up and look for the remote to turn the volume down when the bedroom door opens.

“Could you please turn that shit down? I’m trying to take a nap here,” Well, here he is.

“I was already doing that, calm down,” you roll your eyes.

“I would really appreciate it, if you were more considerate regarding the fact that you don’t live alone, Y/N,” Hyunjae grumbles. He looks like he wants to argue, but you are not in the mood to have a passive aggressive fight right now so you get up and try to pass through him to get to the bedroom.

You’re just about to get past him when he suddenly grabs you by your arms.

“You…” he whispers.

“What? Let me go, I’m going to sleep,” you try to shake him off but he’s holding you in straight up iron grip.

“Can’t you…can’t you feel it?” he presses, his whole demeanor a complete change from just a minute ago. His eyes are huge like saucers, and his voice is almost shaking. He’s still grabbing your arm, but how it feels more like he’s holding onto you.

“Feel what? I don’t get it, what’s going on? Hyunjae, you’re scaring me,” you ask with concern, not getting his sudden change in behavior.

“The blood. You’re bleeding.” he replies impatiently, as if you were too slow to catch up on something that’s been obvious the whole time.

“Am I?” you ask incredulously. Why is he so weird? You’re not injured or anything, except… You shift your weight. There is a dampness in your panties that haven’t been there a while ago. Oh.

“Oh,” you whisper. “Yeah, I guess I am…”

“You guess? I can smell it, Y/N,” he whines. “Can I..can I have it please?” he asks with a small voice.

“Have it?” you ask, feigning a surprise, but you know what he wants. It’s not the first time he expressed a desire like that, but he has never been so desperate to ask for it so insistently. But you’re not the one to give up so easily. You could use an orgasm to help you with the cramps though.

“Don’t make me say it,” he pleads, looking borderline desperate. And that’s something you really like seeing on him.

“Oh you’re going to say it. If you won’t, you’re not getting anything,” you smirk.

“Y/N..can I please eat you out? Please, I haven’t had a drop of normal blood in weeks and you smell so good… Please, don’t let it go to waste,” he begs, falling on his knees. He hugs you around your hips and looks like he’s fighting with himself to not rub his face all over your crotch to get more of the scent.

“2 weeks of washing dishes and I get to choose what we watch, and it’s all yours,” you spit out. You’re not going to let the opportunity to get something out of it slide like that.

“Deal,” he breathes out and lifts you just like that. He takes a few strides across the room and almost throws you on the bed with how in hurry he is. You reach to take off your sweatpants and underwear, but he’s already there, ripping it off you as if it personally offended him.

It takes him just a few seconds before he’s straight up latched onto your pussy. His tongue licking all around, gathering all the blood that already leaked out of you, licking you clean. It’s hot and wet and his warm breath on you is arousing, as well as looking at how enthusiastic he is about this whole thing. You briefly think about how this should feel disgusting but it’s hard to think about it that way when he is so into it. And blood is a normal, daily encounter for him.

He’s also not forgetting about your pleasure. It’s not like he’s just doing it for himself, but he’s really trying to get you off too, flattening his tongue to lick over your clit in broad strokes, until he slowly builds up the tempo so he can just flick over it.

It feels really good and you’re getting there, but then, to your displeasure, he moves his tongue to your hole, pushing it as far as he can, chasing the blood and its taste. You whine and you’re considering grabbing him by his hair and moving him back to sucking your clit, but you decide it’s only fair. He can get the blood you promised. Especially since you can see him moving one hand down and taking out his cock, hard and leaking, so that he can jerk it off as he eats you out.

“Y/N, this tastes so good,” his voice is muffled, since his face is pressed against your pussy. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted…Y/N, I’m gonna cum,” Oh no.

Now you really yank him off by his hair. He blinks at you, and oh what a sight - his pretty doll face, pale, with eyes glossed over and pupils dilated. His mouth and chin are both red and glistening with your blood and pussy juices.

“Me first.” you growl at him, and he just nods, too dazed to protest and leans back down. He’s not playing anymore, licking over your clit as best and fast as he can, doing his best to get you off quickly.

You can feel it coming and you don’t want to prolong the wait either, so you let him make you come, your thighs squeezing his head hard, so he couldn’t breath even if he still had to. He continues until he can feel your orgasm fade, and then immediately moves back to tonguing at your hole, trying to get the most of the new blood and slick that gushed out of you when you came.

You hear the sound of him frantically jerking off and you can even tell when he’s coming, as he’s almost sobbing with pleasure. He slumps down on the bed, completely tired and fucked out.

“This was really great, thank you,” he wheezes, still catching his breath. “I could do this every day, it’s worth all the dishwashing duty you would bargain out of me.”

You poke his shoulder with a toe. Now that’s an idea.

“Play your cards right and you can have a whole week of this.”

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makoodles · 5 months

Note

I am dutifully waiting for whatever your beautiful brain is cooking up❤️ ( I am on my hands and knees mommy can I please have a sneak peak, just a sip, please I am so thirsty)

rahhhh okay okay this is the second request i got for a sneak peek for the daddy kink price fic, and i am in a giving mood

(if you have daddy kink price headcanons/thirsts plssss send them my way, because they help get me in the headspace for writing 👀)

sneak peek below!

That gets another bark of laughter out of Price, and he slaps a hand down onto your knee. The contact makes you jolt, eyes widening, but Price’s hand doesn’t shift. His palm is so large, spread across your thigh as his fingers curl over your knee. The touch feels almost scorching even through the thick fabric of your trousers.

All of a sudden, your tongue feels very thick in your mouth. The hand on your knee is not in any way suggestive; it’s chaste, innocent, just resting there like a reminder that he wants your attention on him (as if it could be anywhere else). But your nerves are jangling all of a sudden, every one of your senses straining towards him as you hold your breath.

“The hat isn’t the problem,” Price mutters, though you barely hear him. “I wanted to ask you about something else you said, love. Something you said about your father.”

That has some of the heat in your veins cooling, your eyes blowing wide. “I– what?”

To your bewilderment, Price’s cheeks have reddened beneath the whiskers of his beard and moustache. Despite his clear chagrin, he doesn’t break eye contact with you, his thick fingers squeezing cautiously around your knee.

“Don’t mean to overstep,” He assures you quietly. “And– and don’t mind me if I’m talkin’ nonsense. But I know that you’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got a tough job. Can’t be easy. And I just wanted to say that if you'd like some… guidance – someone to steer you in the right path, that is– well, that I’m here if you ever want to talk."

Oh god. You feel your mouth go dry.

It’s funny, because even though Price isn’t even yet forty, he’s always seemed so much older. Maybe it’s the weight of the responsibility that he carries on his shoulders, or the battle-hardened icy blue eyes, or the paternal sense of protectiveness that he shows over his team. He’s always been like an almost father figure for the squad, regardless of age; you’ve seen the way he’s so protective over Ghost, the way he claps Soap on the back or shoulders in praise to boost him up, the way he beams with pride when Farah excels, the way he always makes time to guide or give advice to Gaz.

It’s sweet. He’s always been sweet, so aware of the personalities on his team, even when he’s acting like that typical military authority figure.

"Sounds like you want to be my daddy." You mean to say it in a derogatory fashion, laughing as though it's ridiculous, though when it comes out you can hear that it’s missing some of the sarcasm you had intended.

Price reacts instantly. He reels back, eyes widening, the pink in his cheeks flares into a deep red flush, and you see his chest heave as his breath catches. You hadn’t been expecting a reaction like this; Price looks as though the words have hit him physically.

“Jesus. That’s not–” He says, and the gravelly hoarseness in his voice lands like a shock. “That’s not what I meant.”

There’s a moment of charged silence. Fuck, what have you done? Why would you say that? Why would you say that, to the captain of your task force? Hadn’t you embarrassed yourself enough in front of him the day you had had your silly little meltdown? It’s like you just can’t keep your damn mouth shut around him, like your brain turns to mush the second he looks at you and you just lose the run of yourself.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what– I didn’t mean it.”

The next silence is even worse than the last, tension humming between you like a live wire. He’s so close to you that his scent fills your nose – a blend of sweet cigar smoke, sharp gunpowder, and a heady masculine musk. You feel so fucking stupid, and more than a little panicked. You don’t think you could survive the humiliation of having to call Laswell and beg for a reassignment twice in one day just because you’ve completely humiliated yourself in front of the Captain again.

Price swallows, the sound painfully loud in the silence.

“Right.” He says slowly, before coughing roughly to clear his throat. “Mm. ‘Course. I didn’t mean to– perhaps I overstepped. Since you mentioned your father–”

“I don’t want to talk about my father.” You say swiftly.

God, you feel like your issues are out on display with a big damn spotlight. You feel so pathetic, so damn pitiful, as though your desperate need for approval and affection from an older male authority figure is written across your forehead.

But if your issues are on display, then so are Price’s, because you can’t help but notice that the vibrant red flush on his cheeks hasn’t faded. If anything, that deep flush has spread down his throat and over his chest; you can see how the skin that’s stretched over his pectoral muscles is glowing crimson beneath his shirt.

A niggling boldness begins to creep in, and you find yourself straightening on the couch. You turn, bring one of your legs up on the couch so that you can turn your whole body towards him, one of your elbows resting on the back cushion of the couch.

Price’s eyes sharpen when your body turns towards him, and his body draws tense. Those cool blue eyes dart over you, and you’re surprised to see heat in them despite your oversized purple jumper and wool trousers. The whisper of his fatigues brushing against the fabric of your own trousers is both a distraction and an invitation, your thighs sliding surreptitiously against each other.

“What if I did mean it?” You blurt out before your courage can flee you.

Price goes so still it looks preternatural, even the breaths in his chest slowing.

“Kid.” He says, and it sounds like a warning.

You don’t heed it, adjusting yourself so that you’re shuffling closer yet again. You don’t think you’ve ever been so close to him, his scent and his body and his heated gaze filling up your consciousness until he’s all that you’re aware of.

“What if I meant it?” You ask again, the whisper coming out low but charged.

Price takes a breath that sounds like a groan, and it surprises you. You hadn’t expected that reaction; it sends a trickle of heated desire running down your spine, and you’re startled by how much you want him in this moment.

“D’you know what you’re asking for?” He asks, the gravel in his voice flooding wet heat between your legs.

His carefully laced words linger in the space between you, daring you to accept, to shred the formal boundary that looms between the two of you. You get the sense that you’re walking a thin line here, that you’re getting close to the point of no return.

#mak's rambles #sneak peek #price x reader

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gizmo-writes · 1 year

Text

august | karl jacobs

"august slipped away into a moment in time

'cause you were never mine"

"Karl, if you don't tell them, I will," Sapnaps voice sent knives through Karls heart. "Sapnap, I can't. You can't." Karl sighed. He wanted nothing more than this conversation to be over. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of the mistake he had made. But every time he talked to Sapnap, he was reminded. He was taken back to the warm bed and soft eyes in the morning sunlight. Before karl felt all the guilt and shame that he did now. He loved you, he loves you, he knows that as a fact but with sapnap... things were different. But of course things were different, sapnap wasn't you. Sapnap was there during that summer you were gone, but that didn't make it right, he knew that.

But sapnap was there.. in person.. He could touch him, hold him close as you were gone. He spent nights with sapnap, but that never changed how he thought about you each time he wrapped his arms around sapnap. Did that make it any better? That he thought of you and only you as he held sapnap? Or did that make it worse? He didn't know. Either way he didn't want to tell you, didn't want you to have to face the pain he was feeling. It was selfish, he knew that… but in reality he didn't know how selfish he was truly being. He didn't know he was hurting you, he thought the way he was acting made it for the better. He weighed the morality in his own desolate mind. If you left him.. then maybe he'd never have to tell you. He'd never have to face the consequences of his actions.

"Karl, are you even listening?" Sapnap said, bring Karl back to his sad reality. "Sapnap, i think you're making a big deal out of nothing." Karl said. "Nothing?" Sapnap repeated Karls last word with pain in his voice. "Yes, Sapnap. Nothing." Karl said, offended that Sapnap could even feel hurt at this moment. This wasn't about Sapnap. This was about him, about his problem. About what he would do to fix it. This wasn't about whatever sapnap could possibly feel, it was nothing. Sapnap should've known that. "Jesus Christ, Karl." Sapnap scoffed, "fuck you," was all he said before disconnecting from the call. Karl was confused, truly confused. Why was sapnap even upset? He wondered.

Sapnap on the other hand was pissed, upset, heartbroken. How could Karl say that what they did meant nothing? It certainly didn't mean nothing to Sapnap. Those few nights in the warm summer air of august meant the world to Sapnap. Sure, he knew it wouldn't last forever but that didn't stop him from hoping, praying that Karl would come back to him. He prayed Karl felt the same, that he loved him just as much as Sapnap loved him. But as August ended and fall strolled in, Karl left Sapnaps warm bed and went right back to yours. Just as the weather was getting cooler, so was that side of Sapnap’s mattress. It broke Sapnaps heart, but he knew.. Karl wasn't his to keep.

#karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs #karl jacobs series #karl jacobs fanfic #karl jacobs fluff #karl jacobs blurb #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs angst #karl jacobs fanfiction

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meraki-yao · 3 months

Note

You don't have to post it if you don't want to, you can also block me or delete it's ok, I just need to vent because this situation is hitting rock bottom and I can't stand how people don't want to see the problem:

In short: there is a video of the q&a where the female producer gets Casey pronouns wrong when talking about them. It's totally ok to point this out and give respect that Casey deserves BUT who was given the main blame? Taylor obviously, despite him also using the right pronouns during the panel, is guilty of not correcting the woman in front of everyone so he's bad again.

But this time we're not talking about that handful of idiot Nick fans, we're talking about the rwrb fandom that says they love him so much but once again for the umpteenth time they threw him under the bus without thinking twice even though he had no fault. And it will be the third time that the same fandom has exaggerated something against him, subsequently causing serious problems ( like racism and homophobia and doxxing which took place in december where everyone then washed their hands of it pretending nothing happened and they did nothing wrong)

And I'm so tired of reading that we just have to ignore that social because that social is the most active and followed and we know Taylor a few days ago saw stuff and posted and today Casey saw and posted a story. That social causes damage and everything they bring there is seen and affects all of them. So no it's not enough to ignore and put our hands over our eyes and just talk about how beautiful the sky is and I'm so tired and sad and heartbroken because every day even unconsciously they make it more and more evident that there isn't the same affection and respect for both, it's not true, one will always be seen with a critical eye "yes you are beautiful, perfect, so sexy, wow how beautiful these photos BUT you are a bit problematic, BUT you should be better than that, BUT you should learn better, oh disappointed but not surprised" and it is obviously always the poc man who has to be better who has to do better even when he does absolutely nothing wrong.

And this comes from the people who say they follow him and love him. It's no longer possible, that man has been attacked every single day for months, now he must also fall into the transphobic category because he didn't correct another person in front of everyone even though HE had used the right pronouns. But do we realize that this shit fucks up your mental health in the long run? But why doesn't anyone realize how serious the situation is? I cannot take it anymore and I feel like I'm screaming into the void and witnessing the moment when everything will get worse and fall apart and then we will be here sad because it didn't have to go that way for him

…Woah.

Jesus Christ what the fuck.

Okay um, here we go. This is a monster of response to write but here I am.

I’m gonna start by saying I am not a direct witness of any of this. I didn’t know about the misgendering issue during the Q&A, I didn’t really notice it when I watched the Q&A myself yesterday. I’m not on twitter and I don’t follow or look at Taylor or Nick’s tags. All insults I seen regarding the boys are either from assholes trying to bother me or from people who want to talk about the phenomena, both in my inbox.

Regarding misgendering Casey:

Firstly I’m gonna state the obvious and say of course it’s a bad thing to misgender someone. Don’t do that

However I will also say this.

In regards to the extent of reaction: it’s not always done in malice. And in this case, I think it’s a genuine slip up, which happens. I had to consciously remind myself to deliberately use the right pronouns after my friend came out to me as non-binary. I had to correct my friend using the wrong pronouns when talking about our mutual non-binary student. It’s not ideal, but it happens. It’s not mean, it’s just careless. And please note that I’m not saying it’s ok to misgender someone, no it’s absolutely not but I also don’t think this case calls for a big reaction. If someone maliciously, deliberately, publicly and repeatedly misgenders someone, that’s problematic, that should be called out by the masses to this extent. This, we should acknowledge, make a note, and move on. I think there’s some cases where the reaction to certain issues are massively disproportional, this is one of them.

In regards to Taylor not correcting Sarah and being targeted for it: Firstly, Taylor didn’t misgender them, Sarah did. Taylor used the right pronouns. In fact when they hung out in New York last August, Taylor used the right pronouns on his Instagram story. Secondly, he might not have picked that up. Thirdly, even if he did, it’s awkward to suddenly cut off a monologue, let alone one from friend or not, is someone on a higher level than you, to correct a mistake that doesn’t directly affect comprehensive. Fourthly, bystanders are encouraged to step into situations, but they’re certainly not obligated to. So placing the blame or putting so much blame on Taylor is ridiculous and unfair.

In regards to Casey’s Instagram story: I understand where the connection comes from but honestly… I think there’s also a possibility that that’s just a post that Casey saw and wanted to share without reference to this issue. They don’t have Twitter, and it’s been several days since the screening. Truthfully, everyone involved seems really friendly with each other, and how this very project is advocating for LGBT rights, I don’t really believe that if they were aware of the misgendering, they wouldn’t apologize to Casey.

So replying to the “You don’t have to post it…” anon, I agree that putting any blame on Taylor is kind of ridiculous in this case, just like what happened in December. I think there’s a portion of “fans” that are fucking around with this and genuinely hurting him, but there might also be a portion of people who have a problematic/complicated perception of this type of situation, and it’s not targeted specifically towards Taylor. Either way I disapprove with what they’re doing, but here’s a hypothesis.

Regarding the damage these stuff causes:

I’ve addressed the insults thrown at Taylor multiple times by now. And I kind of agree with “I hate that there are idiots…” anon that really disgusting insults thrown at Nick tend to be overlooked, it’s not like there’s no Nick haters, there is. But because of the inherent racism, attacks on Taylor are much more obvious. Either way it’s cruel and disgusting and the boys don’t deserve to be thrown insults like that, nor do they deserve to have people enact cruelty in their name. Rarely is anyone deserving of that, and in the case of these two boys who have been proven to kind and wonderful people, it’s definitely wrong.

I’m tired of reading and seeing these bullshit on social media as well, which is why I actively avoid it, but “You don’t have to post it” anon, I definitely understand and share your worries of this fucking up the boys mental health.

But the sad truth is that we can’t decide what he can see and what he can’t. We’re just gonna need to trust him, to believe that he knows how to regulate the exposure of response he gets, that he knows what comments matter and what don’t, that he knows how to take care of his mental health. He actively avoids twitter, so I think he has an idea on what he can engage with an what he shouldn’t. Same goes with Nick, all we can do is believe he knows his mental health and how to regulate it. Meanwhile, those of us who aren’t assholes, we’ll show them all the love we have for him. I think public figures all struggle with this to some extent, so when they stepped into this career, I believe they saw this as a possibility, so they’re prepared to some degree. That doesn’t make any of this okay, but again, ultimately, we’re not people directly in their lives. We can’t do anything else practical.

Ultimately I want to say, be kind, compassionate and considerate. We can’t control what others do, and truth be told when it comes to the majority of the haters, I don’t think calling them out will change anything. They have their mind set. So the best we can do, is manage and control what we say and do, and to some degree, what we see and engage with.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #taylor zakhar perez #nicholas galitzine #casey mcquiston #anon ask #answered #oh god this took a lot out of me

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rebouks · 2 years

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Previous | Next

Transcript:

[SOFT SNORING]

[SHRIEK] [SHARP INHALE] Oscar: Wha-.. fucking hell, Leah! Alea: I’m fine, I’m fine.

Oscar: [scoffs] Fine my ass. If you’re fine, I’m-.. I’m… Eh, I dunno, but you ain’t fine. Alea: How much have you had t’drink? Oscar: Nu-uh, don’t deflect. What’s the matter with you? Alea: It ain’t important.

Oscar: C’mon, it’s not the first time you’ve done that. Alea: I.. I’ve always been worried somethin’ like this might happen t’me. Being here, doin’ this; it’s kinda hard for me too. Oscar: Oh… Remind me why you switched sides again? Alea: Tch, that’s none of your business.

Oscar: It became my business when the people you failed to stop decided to fuck with Courtney! Alea: So, none of the other girl’s matter? Just the one that’s important t’you? Oscar: I didn’t fucking say that, did I? Alea: Whatever.

Oscar: [snorts] Whatever. If you’re so worried about what happens around you, then why are you willing to go along with it?! Alea: I’m not havin’ this conversation with you, especially not whilst you’re rat-arsed. Oscar: Drunk or not, it’s obvious you’re not fine. You’re probably the one person with enough experience to do something about them. How can you just sit on all this shit, why haven’t you done something?!

Alea: I know you’re havin’ a shitty time right now, but you don’t get to pin any of this on me. It’s not my fault Wyatt’s fuckin’ deranged, I had nothin’ t’do with what’s happened here. Oscar: What the hell’s wrong with you?! Why-… Alea: Me?! What’s wrong with you?! You’re just as involved as me; by your logic, we’re as bad as each other!

Oscar: Bollocks. Alea: Like it or not, we’re in the same fuckin’ boat, Oscar. Your moral high ground is built on sand at best. You kiss Artie’s ass like the rest of us, I don’t exactly see you goin’ against the grain. Oscar: Don’t be so fucking sure about that.

Alea: … Oscar: … Alea: What’re you sayin’? Are you-… Oscar: Drunk? Very. You’re right, let’s not have this conversation.

Alea: It’s a bit late t’backtrack now… How long? Who’re you workin’ with? Oscar: No one. Alea: Bullshit, you must-… Oscar: Seriously. No one’s fucking interested, everything I try grinds to a halt before I can get anywhere.

Alea: Welcome to my world… I knew you didn’t fit in, Ivan’s gotta be in on it too? Oscar: [sighs] Maybe. Does anyone suspect anything? Alea: Uh, Wyatt? Which is a problem, ‘cause once he starts diggin’, he doesn’t stop. Oscar: Bastard. He bought himself some time whilst wasting mine…

Alea: He’s not stupid, unfortunately. It’s better being on the winnin’ side, y’know? Oscar: It’s not better though… You could always change your mind again, is Kian really worth it? Alea: I used t’think so. I was in love, tired of failin’; it seemed easier back then… I hoped one day he’d realise I was right, that there’s more t’life n’ that he could be his own person.

Oscar: [snorts] You thought he’d sack his dad off n’ skip off into the sunset with you? Alea: Is it so bad t’want a happy endin’? Oscar: No, but you couldn’t have chosen any worse-.. actually, you could have fallen for Wyatt. Alea: [laughs dryly] Jesus.

Oscar: What now..? Alea: I should say somethin’, but I won’t; and none of this changes what we’re here for. Oscar: What you should do, is help us. Alea: We’ll see if you think that once you’re sober. Speakin’ of, I really think you oughta take Bruno up on his offer. You’re-…

Oscar: An absolute mess, I know. I was gonna check myself into rehab before Cookie-.. fuck, she better be okay. If-… Alea: Let’s not play the if game. We’ve only got motel Randy left t’check out, right? Surely, she’ll be there. Oscar: I fucking hope so. Nothing else matters anymore, I just wanna hold her tight n’ never let go again. Alea: Alright, Casanova. How ‘bout for now you put the whiskey down n’ get some rest.

Oscar: Psh. You were the one that woke me up with your yelling, I was actually sleeping for once. Alea: Chuck us a smoke, then we’ll go back t’sleep. Oscar: We’re gonna get in trouble for chain smoking in here. Alea: Bah.

#somnium #sims 4 #storytelling #ts4 story #sims story #simblr #oscar finch #alea #twalcoholism #oof.. a long boi #but necessary 👀

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teotalksaboutstuff · 1 year

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Danganronpa Despair Time Chapter 2: Episodes 3, 4, and 5

Episode 3

-so no teruko traitor reveal? pog

-monotv’s incompetence makes him my favorite host of any killing game. reminds me a lot of danganronpa: safety’s on, basically DR1 but Monokuma is about as incompetent as MonoTV is. it’s a great read, highly reccommended.

-teruko being bad at caulking a bathroom is so me. also of course monotv isn’t going to reveal the information but him not knowing it himself is interesting.

-hey, nice caulk.

-people changing clothes being this big thing is very funny

-charles’ straight up phobia of blood is uh... there’s clearly something deeper going on here

-teruko, put the fucking knife away. as much as it’s within reason that you’d be this paranoid, this does make you look like you are trying to murder Charles here, at least to him.

-id love to know whose motive Charles had, now that Teruko’s got it.

-loving charles and teruko actually being friends of some sort now that their positions have basically reversed since chapter 1.

-Chiteruko? i actually like the idea of those three as a polycule and want to see more whit/teruko interactions.

-MonoTV jumping on charles XD

-teruko playing with cacti i literally cannot???? best scene in chapter 2 by FAR

-living for the eden jumpscare here

-THE EDEN GREMLIN SPRITE MAKES ITS APPEARANCE. GOD I LOVE HER.

-Eden’s hope speech is also iconic. Her knowing the world is kinda fucked but still being kind anyways is something Teruko clearly needed to hear.

Episode 4

-what is the tea

-the gurlz are fighting

-naur

-teruko sandwich duck face

-ace markey, the ultimate allistic

-by all rules of danganronpa arei should have died here, and i am so grateful monotv isn’t competent enough to actually enforce the rules but at the same time is arei the mastermind? ofc he wouldn’t kill the mastermind.

-veronika living for the fights is also very me

-’you’ve been acting jerkishly as well’ eden she is literally being deadnamed and STALKED are you blind. J is 100% in the right here.

-nico fucking roasting ace is funny, and i get why he’d think its constructive criticism because i too am autistic and would think much the same.

-see, veronika gets it

-when death threats are the only way to properly resolve an argument

-arei lashing out at monotv is iconic tbh

-jesus christ arei yeah that reaction is a sensible one given your circumstances

-”hey, just so you know, failed hanging attempts are pretty painful” teruko wtf, im not entirely sure how that was intended to be helpful?

-we know what the tea is

-the gurlz are still fighting

-naur

-teruko has 99 problems and these bitchez aren’t about to be number 100

-charles making cucumber flowers is iconic

-DAVID YES YOU STEP IN THERE AND HELP THEM

-yeah people are gonna be... super hesitant about the motive secret thing, and teruko defo needs to talk to the person whose motive was originally charles’ as well as rose, whose she has

-see, j at least has the decency to ask the person before telling their secret

-eden has a dude’s motive secret evidently, maybe levi’s? that would be significant.

-who is the someone they’re inviting

Episode 5

-Arei’s typical ew reaction to everything, unsurprising. Makes sense she’d want to talk about motive though given her position.

-Granted leaving Arei out was before Xander died but nO AREI YOU ARE BECOMING A WORSE TERUKO LIKE AM I THE ONLY ONE NOTICING THE PARALLEL HERE OR AM I SEEING THEM WHERE THERE ARENT ANY?

-Teruko’s reaction being what it is does not surprise me.

-MORE AREI GREMLIN SPRITES WOOT

-oh wow arei actually wasn’t bluffing when she said she had nothing to hide

-is _ illegal nahhhh let arei be a girlboss yall just dont want to see women win

-teruko please stop acting as if you have any moral high ground here

-i mean unless something like this happened to you then thats another matter entirely

-the true arei trauma dump. contextualizes literally everything about her in a way that actually makes me fascinated with her as a wonderfully complex character.

-naturally this would develop into a philosophy where kindness is weakness, yeah

-DAVREI??? FUCK YES I SHIP IT!!

-ah, rose time

-yass art therapy, but i can understand why teruko was so freaked out by it

-in all fairness i dont know how you would respond to someone saying the stuff rose was about teruko

-TERUKO THATS LIKE SAYING I HATE YOU TO AN ARTIST?? LIKE CMON TERUKO YOU ARE MAKING IT REALLY HARD FOR ME TO DEFEND YOU THIS CHAPTER

-naturally, rose is fine with the secret coming out. she even has her own trauma dump scene with teruko

-i mean we been knew that teruko didn’t actually mean any of that and now rose maybe does?

-nico was mother for that tbh

-please don’t forget him down there ;-;

-the implication that nico actually likes the teruko gore art is an interesting one

-loving how nico wants rose to teach him painting omg

#danganronpa despair time

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doctorloup · 10 months

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ACTUALLY FUCK IT, I WILL ELABORATE, STRAP IN, BITCHES

Let me first make the following statements - 1) I come not to bin Caesar but to praise him. WOE.BEGONE is beautiful chaos, an erratic smorgasbord of musical talent, and complex characterisation. I respect this craft, I see how much work has gone into it and I am deeply impressed. Multiple ten-minute plus long fucking musical numbers, season finales with three whole songs in them. The memetic virus that is Old Brush Valley. Wild. 2) However, apart from respecting the music, I massively bounced off this podcast the first time I tried to listen to it, because I found the protagonist such an awful damp weasel of a man. I do not like the wet cat men so beloved of tumblr. I find them deeply annoying. No shade on you all but your kink is not my kink etc. I bounced off it so hard that I actually confused it with Ostium which I listened to around at the same time, and I would describe as fun and poignant, but really rather heterosexual. Woe.Begone is not remotely heterosexual. It is gayer than Quentin Crisp in a little Sailor Suit, gayer than the letter Bram Stoker sent to Walt Whitman saying "I am six feet two inches high and twelve stone weight naked". Gay as Elton John in a feather boa riding up Brokeback Mountain on a bear while sniffing poppers and quoting Oscar Wilde. I should have known. I should have guessed from the fans being absolutely feral nightmare gnomes. They reminded me of the Stellar Firma fans. That shrieking bucket of wild kobolds snorting ketamine and downing tide pods vibe. That should have been a warning. But they asked nicely and they politely invited me into the discord server and like a fool I humoured them. I gritted my teeth at the horribly flawed characters and I stuck with it….

Spoilers follow.

::deep breath::

MIKE WALTERS? Stupid idiot motherfucking Mike Walters goddamn fool multiple murderous alternately callous and arrogant shithead or wet as depressed otter’s pocket sociopathic-ARG-playing biggest varmint in the west cowboy motherfucking MIKE WALTERS WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DID I JUST LISTEN TO? WHAT IS THIS CASUALLY/DELIBERATELY VIOLENT SLAPSTICK TIME TRAVEL FUCKING COSPLAY MURDER FEST? COWBOYIFICATION? Okay I understand this is a clever way for the VA to distinguish between characters played by the same guy, weird fetish aye but I’ve seen worse BUT WHY THE FUCK DOES NEARLY EVERY OTHER CHARACTER DO IT TOO JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A BISCUIT IN GRAVY I ALMOST STARTED DOING IT MYSELF MULTIPLE TIMES I HAD TO DRINK TEA AND THINK OF ENGLAND TO STOP MYSELF SAYING GET ALONG LITTLE DAWGIE shit here we go again help RULE BRITANNIA WHAT WHAT YOU WON'T GET ME YA BASTARDS

AND ANOTHER THING: IN THE HISTORY OF NARRATIVE NO PROBLEM HAS IN ANY WAY EVER BEEN SOLVED BY RAISING THE DEAD jesus doesn’t count anyway that was consensual NON-CONSENSUALLY RAISING THE DEAD AND THE FACT THIS ENTIRE CLUSTERFUCK STARTED WITH THAT SHOULD BE EXTREMELY TELLING HOLY FUCK every time I hear him talk I just want to shriek OH MY GOD WHY CAN’T YOU GET THERAPY WHY DO YOU KEEP REPEATEDLY RETRAUMATISING EVERY VERSION OF YOURSELF I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND EXPLAIN TO ME WHY ANYTHING YOU EVER DID FROM EPISODE 1 ONWARDS WAS EVER A GOOD IDEA AND YET I COULDN’T STOP LISTENING, SOMETIMES OUT OF SPITE, SOMETIMES OUT OF A HORRIFIED DESIRE TO SEE WHAT HE FUCKS UP NEXT it was like listening to a car crash in slow motion sweartaefuck.

HOW CAN SO MUCH ABJECT HYPOCRISY, USELESSNESS AND NAKED SELF-INTEREST BE CRAMMED INTO THE BODY OF ONE, AND I USE THIS WORD LOOSELY, MAN?? NOT TO MENTION THE FRANKLY HETEROSEXUAL LEVELS OF TOXIC MASCULINITY FUCKSAKE AND WHILE I’M HERE HEY LETS TALK ABOUT THE OTHER CHARACTERS. Edgar “Inexplicably Evil Gluten-free Postman”, Anne “I support my transfemme sisters but fuck this may be too far”, Marisa “Where in the holy fuck do you keep getting that tank?!” Ng, Matt “I thought you were too sensible to get involved in this nonsense but boy was I wrong”, Ty “No amount of apparently learning to respect boundaries will make up for this level of affably psychotic ‘For Science and the Greater Good’ leering viciousness” Betteridge, Я осуждаю тебя за то, что ты оставил свою собаку с Майками Борисом, Felix “Criminal Offence Against Oreos”, Hunter “Somehow worse than the protagonist, apparently that’s possible” Hartley, Sylvester August “Actually this character isn’t absolutely terrible, which is weird for a Harlan character, I’m usually immediately sus of anyone he plays carry on sir“ Baxter. HAVE I JUST GONE TO THE very helpful thank you WIKI SO I CAN ENSURE I HAVE VENTED ABOUT EVERYONE I WANT TO in this fucking TRAUMA POLYCULE YES I HAVE

(Hey one second voice actors I hope you know I adore you even those of you who are CLEARLY COMPLICIT in this unstable lunacy anyway it was cool waiting to see which of you would voice the FUCKING MONSTER PEOPLE) 14/10 absolute fucking masterpiece, I look forward to the next episode so I can SCREAM LIKE A BANSHEE AND CALL DOWN THE WRATH OF EVERY HARPY IN EXISTENCE TO WREAK SHREDDING VIOLENCE ON MIKE. FUCKING. WALTERS.

#NO TAGS NO MASTERS except this one NAE QUIN NAE KING WE WILLNAE BE FOOLT AGIN

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buckysgoldenheart · 3 years

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Just Us

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is sick and tired of you bringing dates back to your shared apartment, and he has no problem letting you know. So basically, mega jealous Henry, which I am a pathetic sucker for.

Warnings: mentions of sex, lots of cursing. I think that’s it.

Notes: this is kind of similar to another fic I did, and I try not to do that, but I just really felt the need to write this, so I did.

Words: 2732

Henry’s mood turned sour the second you walked through the door with your date in tow. You came in with a bright smile on your face that he returned with a scowl, but you did your best to brush it off. Your roommate acting like an overgrown child every time you brought home a guest was nothing new; you certainly weren’t surprised, and you had no intention of stooping to his level.

“Don’t mind us,” You called to Henry from over your shoulder as you shed your coat and draped it on the hook. “This is James.”

Henry only grunted in response, not looking up from fixing his dinner; peanut butter about to be spread messily on a slice of wheat bread. You rolled your eyes, took James’s coat and led him over to the couch where he smiled sweetly when you invited him to sit and offered him a drink.

Entering the kitchen, you opened the fridge door and pulled out two beers. “So?” You asked, your eyebrow raised as you searched for the bottle opener in the junk drawer. Henry dropped the knife with a clang on the countertop, then turned to you and crossed his arms.

“So, you just thought this was fine,” He asked, his voice dripping with aggravated sarcasm as he shrugged his broad shoulders and frowned. “Just whatever, no big deal?”

You chuckled at the weak argument you’d had at least three times before. You wouldn’t have given him the chance to say anything about your date at all if you knew he wasn’t going to hang on to it the entire night just to explode in the morning for bringing a stranger into his home. Your home too, you would often have to remind him. So, it was your mission to let him get the anger out early in the night. You’d be less likely to have to worry about it later and could focus your attention on the man sitting in your living room rather than Henry’s imminent frustration.

“Henry,” You sighed and took a sip of your beer. “As of right now, it’s just the continuation of an innocent date. We’re going to watch a movie.”

“As of right now?” Henry huffed deeply. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that if it gets a little heated, I promise not to make out with him in front of you, but at this current time, you have little to worry about.”

He sucked in a long breath through his nostrils. “Ok, that’s—”

“And we won’t fuck on our couch. I’ll take him to my room so you don’t have to see anything scarring,” You teased with a wink.

“Ok, enough.”

“And we won’t be loud, I swear.”

“Enough!” He snapped. You quickly whipped your head around the corner to see if James heard, but he was still sitting there, playing with his fingernails as he patiently waited for you like the gentleman he was. When you looked back at Henry, he was practically quaking with anger. “Get that asshole out of my apartment.”

“Um, our apartment. And no thank you.” You smiled and cocked your head to the side as innocently as you could. “I’d like to be having sex tonight.”

“With him?” Henry pointed a long finger in your date’s general direction. The fury in his eyes could’ve stabbed James through the back of his head if the wall weren’t in the way.

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N. Have some self-respect.”

Your playful smile instantly dropped, and if you weren’t leaning against the wall, you would’ve stumbled. Henry had said a lot of things before; Hurtful things, things that made you want to slap him, but something about this felt worse. Assuming you were devaluing yourself by wanting to have sex with a man who was sweet, and kind and generous, and million other lovely things men, other than Henry, have never been to you, was like a stab to the gut. Henry was your best friend; you were his. You supported his choices and dreams, and it seemed Henry did the same for you unless it came to this very particular subject. He hated every man you brought around, but bringing them around or getting involved with them did not make you a stupid girl who cannot take care of herself.

“Jesus Henry, stay in your lane, would you?” You said, shaking your head and rubbing at your temple with your free fingers. “I don’t need my best friend giving me shit. Why can’t I bring a guy here without you acting like a complete dick to him and me?”

He stepped closer until you had to look up to meet his glare. “You’re a very smart girl, Y/N. Figure it out,” he growled, then moved around you, but you grabbed his arm before he could escape yet again. Every time, he tried to escape. Every time, he stomped away from you like a grump as if you had some reason to be sorry or ashamed, and you weren’t having it any longer.

“We aren’t children, Henry. I’m not playing this game. If you’ve got a problem with me, say it to my fucking face.”

He stared at you for a long beat, but then shook your hand off him and made his way down the hall, slamming the door to his room once he was inside.

-----------------------------------------------------

James was better than most at kissing you, and you’d kissed your fair share. He knew what you wanted--how you liked things--without you needing to ask, and it was like its own little miracle. There was no fumbling around. His lips were firm and his arms around you were strong. He was confident in his touch on your skin as you straddled his lap, and all of it combined had you a moaning, whimpering mess.

“I wasn’t sure we would actually get to do this,” He said between kisses as you both tried to catch your breath.

“Why?” You lightly chuckled, your fingers skimming down to the little buttons holding his shirt together and easing one open. “I’m certainly having a good time.”

“Believe me sweetheart, I am too, but Superman there looked like he wanted to kick my ass.”

Fucking Superman. That asshole had come out of his room at random, inconvenient times as you and James lightly pawed at one another throughout the movie, and you both could feel Henry’s eyes on you. After the look he gave you the first time he came into the living room, you stopped turning your heads his way when his heavy footsteps thudded against the hardwood.

You made a low humming sound that had James’s cock twitching in his pants, and you moved your head down to peck your lips against his. “Don’t bother with him,” You whispered.

He leaned into the light scratching your nails were giving the side of his scalp, and with a groan, said, “If you say so, babydoll, I won’t give it a second thought.”

“Good.” You smiled, satisfied, then kissed him again but he pulled back barely a minute later.

“It’s just…the way he looks at you.”

“He’s a protective friend.” You snickered and ground your hips down on his a little harder to get him back on track.

He groaned as his fingers dug into your waist, but it didn’t distract him. “No, it’s not only that. It’s like…” His lips pursed trying to find the words. “He looks at you in a way that friends normally do not look at one another.”

“He’s got some weird attitude tonight, ok? It’s nothing.” Grabbing his cheeks, you forced him to look directly at you when you said, “Now keep kissing me before I get too impatient.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

At two in the morning, you figured you were safe. You figured there would be a direct and easy path to the front door of your apartment as you let James out with a smile and a goodbye kiss and promises to text one another the next day, though you weren’t sure how much either of you really meant it. And you were right, there was an uninterrupted tiptoeing to the door. It was when you turned back for your bedroom that you realized the path had a roadblock.

Henry stood in front of you, the fumes nearly visibly wafting off him, with the harshest look he had ever directed at you taking over his entire face. It was a disservice to his handsome features and made your stomach twist uneasily.

“Is this for fucking real right now?” He growled so intensely it vibrated in your ears. “Did I just see what I think I saw?”

“Jesus, Henry, you scared me.”

“You actually slept with that guy?”

“Wh—”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Laughing half-heartedly, he ran one of his hands down his face, but that was all it took for the shock to wear off and for your annoyance to set in.

“Ok, I’m done with this. What is your goddamn problem?”

The two of you didn’t fight this way. Not for long anyway, and even so, this time was significantly worse than any other. Outbursts happened for the both of you, snapping, and words you wish you could take back, but Henry was still looking at you the way he had earlier in the night; like you were a reckless child he was losing respect for by the minute, and it broke your heart.

He stared at you as if expecting you to have an answer to your own question, but when you didn’t continue, he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, and said, “I’m going to a hotel. I can’t be here right now.”

“What? Henry, why?”

His keys were in hand, his phone and wallet tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, when it finally registered to you that he wasn’t kidding. He was leaving so fast he didn’t care to take anything other than the necessities with him. That’s how much he wanted to get away from you, and you hated it. You never wanted to get away from him.

Light from the hall streamed through the doorway as you finally began to follow after him. You grabbed at his t-shirt when he wouldn’t respond to your repeating calling of his name, and he whipped around fast with a frown down at you. Your mouth kept opening and closing, unsure of what to say.

He sniffed once, thinned his lips, and removed your hand from his body, then as calmly as he had spoken all night, said, “I’m in fucking love with you.”

Then door was slammed behind him, jarring you and leaving you to soak the night in.

----------------------------------------------------------------

When he said those words to you, the six words that he would never be able to take back, the ones that irrevocably changed your friendship in the blink of an eye, everything inside of you began to tremble and vibrate and beat with such intensity you could almost feel the functions of your body. Your blood was pumping a hell of a lot faster and you heart was ready to burst.

Your brain, your skin, the nerves and veins under that skin; every bit of you was working overtime to help process what happened and keep you alert as you did so, and maybe it was all a little overkill, but he had said the one thing you never thought you’d hear.

I’m in fucking love with you.

It would repeat over and over in your head, bouncing around the walls of your skull as it tried to find a way to escape, but there was no use. You could never forget his confession, or the way he said it. There was something desperate about it, weak. There was exhaustion, as if he were tired of holding it back and had given up on even trying.

It was too much. You’d never dismiss it, and God, when he got his ass back home you wouldn’t let him brush it aside, but for now, it was too much.

You wanted sleep after sitting completely still for two hours, staring into space. So you carried your body to the closest room, his room, crawled into his bed, and tangled yourself within the sheets until you wouldn’t be able to unwrap yourself without effort you did not possess at such an ungodly hour. You were stuck, trapped, engulfed by him, just like you wanted to be. Then you took his king-sized pillow, massive like his body, and hugged it to your chest, tucking your face in it. It smelled like him, all musky and piney and perfect in a way that always made you dizzy when he would sit a little too close and drape a long arm around your shoulders as you watched tv or read a book.

And you cried yourself to sleep, wishing he was beside you.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Henry came back in the morning, though he wasn’t sure how he gathered the courage. Maybe it was the fact that it was you. Just you, his best friend, his roommate. He loved you in more ways than one, and perhaps it was that knowledge that made him a little stronger.

He’d face you, and he’d do it with the intention of making everything clear. He was in love with you and it wasn’t going to change. He loved you as his friend; that wasn’t going to change either, and no way in hell was he going to lose you twice over.

Taking a few deep breaths, Henry unlocked the front door and eased his way inside. You weren’t around the sunlit soaked first floor of the apartment, and when he traipsed upstairs and nudged your door open, you weren’t there either. He wanted you tucked in your bed, not gone and probably terrified at the thought of seeing him, so running to James’s or Jake’s or Jason’s apartment to avoid him. That would be the perfect painful exclamation point on the disaster of his poor decision making.

Then he found you. Not missing, but snug in his bed, warming the mattress with your body as it dipped the slightest under your weight. Everything about the sight killed him and melted his heart simultaneously. There you were, laying peacefully angelic, right where he had wanted you for months. And it looked so beautifully natural.

Not even stopping to think, Henry inched his way to the other side of his bed, lifted the duvet and slid beneath it. He reached an arm around your waist and pulled you close to kiss your forehead, then tucked his face into the crook of your neck. When you stirred, he leaned back to take in your face as your eyebrows scrunched and your lips parted in a yawn.

You didn’t open your eyes but rose a hand, placed it on his cheek, and ran a thumb along the corner of his mouth. As the goosebumps spawned all over his body, he wasn’t even sure you were fully awake, but then you whispered, “It was always you, Henry. Always.”

Henry swallowed hard as your sleepy voice continued.

“I figured you weren’t an option, and I was doing my best working around that.”

After running a hand over your hair and tucking some behind your ear, Henry pressed a kiss to your lips. A short, soft one to see how you’d react. Then you opened your eyes slowly and met your Y/E/C with his blue.

“Do it again,” You said, and so he connected your lips a little firmer, tightening his hold on you, and rolling on his back until your body splayed over his.

You moaned when he caressed his tongue against yours after opening your mouth an inch. Your heart fluttered in your chest the stupid way dramatic, moony-eyed women often described it in novels. You thought it was a myth, the idea that anyone could make you feel so loved just from a kiss, and you’d lost hope for that kind of thing long ago. But Henry ripped your pessimism to shreds in a matter of minutes.

“I want you to be mine,” he mumbled against your lips. “Just mine.”

“Then I’m yours,” You said without hesitation, tilting your head back enough to look in his eyes. You nudged your nose against his. “Just yours.”

---

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years

Note

FINALLY SOMEONE SAID THE TRUTH.

I admit that i enjoyed act 3 but it feels like really rushed i have so much complain with that.

The build up until act 2 was so good it give us so much premise but the final blow si meh. Sorry that i want to share thing long rant with you

1. Why the final talk is with yae, no offense to her but we need ei to explain not to mention she witness khaenriah downfall so she can give us more information, i feel like they do it for the plot armor so they can just keep dragging this

2. So many things that quite inconsistant, the shogun is show no mercy to anyone that even did a little thing outside what she think its right, how come she can still have a talk with signora, when sara is falling like that, and also there is no clarification about sara right now.

The traveler was so done at first they refuse to help thoma and ayaka at the beginning. But they seem so happy and forget everything how come they are not RAGE ( okay maybe this is to bias and personal) when this nation provide nothing about our siblings information and also why they are not mention anything about their problem in ei stroy quest. Its nonsense! She is right in front of youu, ask about your siblings, ask about khaenriah, ask about ukmown god!!. How come they can just forget like that. Also mihoyo really waste the potential about twin things i thing ei will give us so much help bcs of the sympathy that we both rn lost our twin but noooo.

3. Kokomi seem lost some brain cell, she make a very succesfull grand intro but she become meh in act 3, how come a great strategist like her let the sus sponsorship slip just bcs they are desperate, not to mention her screen time is really small and her role seem so unsignificant and it feels lile she is a plain npc.

4. The awesome world quest that we have done doesnt get any mention at all! Inazuma owe us so much with cleansing sakura, thunder sakura, tatarigami, obarashi quest. It has so much potential that yae or ei or anyone else aknowledge what traveler has been done but nooo.

cracks knuckles... i suppose it's time for my promised dissertation. interestingly enough, you touched on a lot of the main issues i had with chapter III.

i think that if i had to pin the main issue, it's a lack of overall cohesiveness? we were jumping all over the place without the chance to ever flesh things out. inazuma is a smaller cast, but i feel like we didn't get to see any of them shine. since i'm most interested in the genshin characters, i'll break down my problems by going over everyone and their (lack) of impact on the story.

was ayaka not questioned or placed under suspicion for being close to thoma before his escape? i wanted to see her broken up over her duties as they relate to the yashiro commission, paired with having someone she genuinely cares about in danger. it would've been an interesting struggle if she was forced to choose one or the other. instead she just kinda took a back seat.

speaking of thoma, i don't even have anything to say, because he just... was there? for .0001 seconds. said "lol this sucks ig" and that's about it. i know we're going to get a story for him in the future since he's a 5* but i'm not getting my hopes up 😭 then in the raiden shogun's character story, man is peachy keen! be upset with the raiden shogun! have some inner conflict! even if it's just using loaded language because he's under surveillance for going against the raiden shogun, that'd be so cool. saying something like,

"Traveler, what's with that expression? Oh please, there's nothing to worry about. We're under the Statue of the Omnipresent God's protection. Nothing bad has ever happened here." *wink*

i also don't know what to say about gorou. he was... there....... i think. what is he fighting for? what are the stakes for him? what makes him place so much trust into kokomi? i'm out of things to say about him because i don't remember anything he did or said.

kokomi... oh kokomi... i was so hyped. so excited. i thought that maybe we could see a foil to the raiden shogun. that she'd have a moment where she's forced to realize, just like her opponent, sacrifices must be made that will hurt people who will never understand why she made them. or maybe something to show her military prowess. but instead she just accepts a mysterious patron's help (?), sees her people aging like the grateful dead from JJBA, and goes oh well. that sucks. what can ya do. oh bye traveler i guess, good luck with that. ????????????? HUH... similar case to thoma where she's gonna get a character story but like. she won't be the leader of the resistance anymore. that was her whole shtick. they took her shtick away. also she forced me to interact with more NPCs whose names i've already forgotten so i'm tilted about that still.

KUJOU SARA... AN INJUSTICE. A DISGRACE. a slap to my woman loving face. the build up was there. yae miko's comments about sara probably knowing the tenryou commission is involved in shady dealings, but is choosing not to think about it. sara being forced to confront reality and challenge her adopted father with the truth. being able to blaze a new path for herself in the process. when she started running to the raiden shogun i was ultra hyped up. sara, a devotee to the shogun for so long, was about to see her god interacting with the same people who led inazuma to this awful state. how would she react? would she stay ignorant, like yae miko so coyly said, choosing to look away in favor of following her god's footsteps? or would she be forced to recognize the raiden shogun isn't as divine as she once thought, and challenge her belief system?

we open the door to see the raiden shogun. the loading screen ensues. the camera pans to the ominous room, clouded in darkness, hinting at the ominous confrontation that is to come. the music takes a serious timbre. and then...

well fuck that potential character arc i guess. (we still don't know what sara made of any of this since she poofed out of existence from the story at this point)

kazuha also was handed a similar treatment. we've been with him for a while longer now. he is our introduction into inazuma, the one who first gets us emotionally involved by regaling us with the bittersweet tale of friendship that led him to becoming a wanted criminal. a kind soul who loves nature yet was dealt a cruel hand by fate, forced to watch his home nation turn into a hostile place, where his dear friend ultimately perished as a result. we get the scene with his friend's vision lighting back up. he parries a block from the raiden shogun, in the same area where his friend was killed by her. the parallels. the drama. except this time, he wasn't too late. he protected the traveler where he "failed" to protect his friend in the past. did he feel redemption at this? or was it a bittersweet reminder of what could've been?

WELL i guess we'll never know because we didn't get to talk to him again 😭 idk who got a bait and switch worse, him or sara. jesus christ mihoyo.

then we have signora. why is the raiden shogun talking to her? does she know about the gnosis being taken, and if she doesn't, what was her plan to get it from the archon? what does she think about scaramouche? and oh, okay, we're fighting here now. good fight + god tier music. pog pog. okay, now we've beaten her up, and raiden shogun wyd— wait no not signora her lore is still on CUPS not YET raiden shogun and— ah she's dead. okay. non nerds who didn't read artifact lore are going to know nothing about her. signora has such an interesting story, and yet... well. ok.

then we get raiden shogun redemption (?) arc. i was hype for this as well, though at that point, idk why i bothered being hype. i knew they were gonna do a cute power of friendship something or another, and i'm good with that, so long as it's executed well. what i was envisioning was like seven different buffs to correspond with the seven different visions, the dreams of those whose ambitions were stolen serving as the spear to penetrate the raiden shogun's heart of stone. maybe a hydro vision giving us extra healing for a time, with the voice acting over it being like,

"Even if the rest of the world forgets us, let our will carry you through this one final time. Succeed where we couldn't, Traveler."

so on and so forth.

but instead we got— you get the idea at this point. why bother spelling it out anymore.

at that point i was surprised the raiden shogun didn't go "oopsie woopsie!! we made a fucky wucky!!!" because that was the vibe i was getting. i love ei, don't get me wrong, but i wanted to see her challenged with what she had done to inazuma in the past year. maybe meeting NPC #2345259 who lost her sister to the vision decree or something, reminding ei of the love she held for her sister... being forced to come to terms with the extent of what she's done in pursuit of eternity.

anyway. please for the love of god mihoyo hire better writers for the main story. that is all i ask. thank you.

#genshin impact spoilers #answered #Anonymous

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3desiderium3 · 3 years

Text

For your love

chapter five - On my own

[ series masterlist ]

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings : reader x damiano david

story summary : damiano and reader are in very loving relationship that sometimes almost too quickly becomes too toxic for anyone likings

chapter warning (s) : this is sad i made myself sad

" It was a pretty rough night not gonna lie .. She barely managed to fall asleep around 8 am . I woke up a few times to check upon her cause she had her nose clogged from all that crying . "

Victoria said over phone to Thomas .

It was around one in the noon . She was frying some eggs and vegetables for her and Y/N to eat .

" How did it went over there ? " "Jesus I wish I knew honestly . "

Thomas admitted sighing .

" When he came here last night he was crying . Like really hard . It took him 30 minutes to calm down and tell me what he did .. " " And ? " " I tried punching him in the face but I ended up hurting my hand more . " Vic chuckled upon the thought of Thomas hitting someone , especially Damiano .

" And I don't know he just continued to cry and smoke cigs . I swear to Jesus he smoked like whole 3 packs in one night . I am not sure when he fell asleep or if he did . But there was not much talking here trust me . "

Both of them went silent . Not being able to choose one side . Both Y/N and Damiano where their long known friends and dear people in general .

" Y/N is more than my best friend . She is my family . I would do anything that I can to keep her safe , just like with you . That's why I am feeling so guilty upon meeting her with Damiano. "

" Hon' it was not your fault remember ? " The other line was silent .

" Have you ever wondered how it would look like if they didn't end up together ? "

" Yeah .. I mean maybe .. You know I did often when I found myself in between their arguments . "

" Pft please , they where soft near you comparing to their usual . "

Thomas lighted up his cigarette , the sound of him taking a drag was pretty clear .

" I almost left the band cause of them remember ? At that period Damiano and I had lots of small fights and arguments . "

Vic turned off the stove placing the food in plates skillfully.

" Hold up I need to give Y/N breakfast . " " Aight I'm waitin' . "

" Babes are you awake ? " The blond girl called out for her friend . Y/N was laying on her side of the bed , all the sheets and pillows where thrown in the corner of the room . She didn't wanted anything that smelled like Damiano near her . Instead she slept on bare mattress , Victoria's traveling pillow and she covered herself with the blanket from living room .

" I am not hungry yet , can you just please leave the plate here ? "

" Sure I'll be downstairs . Just call . "

No respond , she just closed the door behind her after glancing at Y/N last time .

Vic was cleaning the stinky apartment whole morning , it was not bothering her in fact . She knew Y/N would do the same for her .

" Tom you there ? " She cooed once her phone was in her grasp again . " Yeah yeah I was talking to Damiano . " " Is he alright ? " " I am not sure really . I think not obviously , but now after this I am not expecting anything normal from him ever again . " " Oh come on it was a - " " If you just dare to finish the sentence I will kill you . How can that be an accident ?? Rape is not an accident ! He was fully aware Victoria !! " " Pshh be quite you idiot ! " She tried hushing her friend after turning around herself paranoid like someone overheard their conversation .

" He is showering now don't worry . We should not be taking sides on this one but Vic .. He is not good for her ... Neither is she for him .. This is lasting for 3 years .. Remember ? "

" Don't fucking remind me . "

Silence . Both of them trying to understand the policy of their friends relationship .

" He threatened to kill himself so many times if she leaves him .. "

" She was so heartbroken each time that she was the one actually considering suicide . "

" I remember one time they had some huge fight as always and she came to my house in like 3 am crying and talking some nonsenses . "

" They never had a filter , especially around us , sometimes it gets just too tiring ya know ? "

" They made me and Ethan cry so many times Jesus Vic you have the biggest nerve here . " Her friend admitted with chuckle.

" Should we like ... talk to them each day and convince them to break up ? "

Deadly silence .

One was sure . Y/N and Damiano shouldn't ever be together again .

" Are we bad friends for doing this ? " " Pft please , we are doing service to everyone . "

" I am so confused and so worried for Y/N , I will talk to Damiano later and then call you to see if something improved and to update you . How is Y/N feeling now ? "

" Not so good bro , I think she is considering that breakup as well . Everything is still so confusing and not in order . "

" Alright Vic , gonna call later , bye love you . "

" Love you too bye . "

* meanwhile in Thomas house *

Thomas hanged up his half hour long conversation with Victoria . He rubbed his eyes hardly throwing the cellphone on the kitchen table where he was standing smoking .

To be honest he was also crying with Damiano last night . He couldn't imagine the amount of pain Y/N was suffering . His still pulsing bruised hand started to feel a bit better . He regretted only hitting Damiano , but they all knew he was the weakest out of all boys in the group .

Damiano was laying in his bed dressed in his chlotes fresh out of shower.

Crying again .

It was slowly starting to make Thomas mad .

' Why didn't he cry last night when he abused her? '

" Oi , whats the matter now ? Why are you crying again ? Cause you are an asshole or complete idiot ? " " Thomas shut the fuck up . I am not capable of having that conversation . " Damiano's voice was raspy and cracked .

" Well we are gonna have this conversation , in fact right now . Where where your tears last night when you raped her ? " " It wasn't ra -" " It was ! You fucked her without her consent ! What the fuck where you thinking ! "

" I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WAS THINKING ! "

He stood up from the bed crying his bottom lip shaking .

" I DON'T FUCKING KNOW ! I WAS MAD AT HER ! MICHAEL WAS THERE ! I HAD THE WORST SCENARIOS RUNNING THROUGH MY HEAD I GOT SCARED ! "

Thomas was in slight shock . Was Damiano really that dumb ?

" Are you serious ? I can't actually believe how selfish and egoistic you are . You raped my best friend because you got mad at her that her ex was there ? "

This was actually the first time in 3 years someones words affected Damiano about his behavior towards Y/N . He sat back on the bed holding his head in his hands .

" I took you in cause I care about you . You are my friend . But I will never forgive you this . You can stay here as much as you want but don't expect any special treatment from me . "

" Should I call her ? I must apologize . "

Thomas snorted .

" No . You must not apologize , you must beg her on your knees to forgive you . You must beg her to even look at you . I know I wouldn't if I was her . No matter what you do she will love you forever and that is the problem . "

Damiano was highly affected by his friends words. In his mind he was only picturing whimpering Y/N whose head he was holding down with his hand , her tears where soaked up on that backseat .

'I will rather die than look her in the eyes again.'

* meanwhile in Y/N's house *

" Are you sure I am not bothering ? I can always ask Thomas to stay with him ? " Y/N asked Victoria while both of them where packing some of Y/N's stuff in the suitcase .

" Yeah absolutely , we are going to spend some quality time healing and having fun . "

Y/N made her final decision , she was going to break up with Damiano this time for real .

She didn't have that much of her stuff , all the clothes , jewelry , letters , poems and all the other gifts she received from Damiano she placed in on huge box and left it on the center of their bed .

" Can I tell Thomas you are staying with me ? "

"Yes but alarm him not to tell Damiano .. I do not wanna hear a word from him . "

Vic simply nodded and in a less than an hour they where all packed leaving the past behind .

* three weeks later *

Things where only worse for our lovers .

Damiano heard no word from Y/N and neither did she from him .

She was expecting it to be honest .

Everyday was same as the other . Too long , too cold and filled with cigarette smoke .

All Y/N did was sometimes leave her room when she didn't wanted to offend Vic after putting effort into preparing the meal , she would listen to whatever record Victoria had , smoke all the cigarettes till she vomited , drink vodka away from her roommates sight and cry herself everyday regretting her whole relationship .

' He never fucking loved me .. I cheated on Michael with him just so he could fuck me over .. He never loved me .. He was just obsessed and he wanted me in his possession '

The fact Damiano didn't try reaching her was painful , it was providing sharp stings in her chest and it gave her headaches .

She saw him in every song , he was always on her mind . She wished she could delete all the memories and feelings just like she deleted the pictures . . .

Damiano was not much different than her .

He was also crying a lot , smoking a lot , not drinking but overthinking . He didn't knew Y/N moved out .. No one understood why it took him 3 weeks to try and reach her .

He didn't understood either .

He was trying to come up with the perfect apologize . He wanted to show her he was willing to do better . Willing to change . To prove her he was ready to change . He was sure that Y/N wouldn't return his calls . She understood her . He expected her to be mad and stubborn she had every reason to be .

Thomas was barely speaking to him . Only some formalities . Måneskin was put on hold their rehearsals , Vic and Thomas being very strict in their communication with Damiano while Ethan was very confused and unsure of what is going on .

Damianos mom and Y/N's parents also weren't included in the situation .

The day he planned on returning home , so sure that he would be greeted by her embrace , came .

He shaved his face for the first time in 3 weeks , he changed his underwear for the first time in 3 weeks , he wore simple suit and he drove all the way into the depths of the town to buy the most glorious flowers that his Y/N loved .

He wasn't planning on just winning her over with some flowers and gifts , or the dialog he practiced in his head and in front of his mirror .

Upon reaching the yard of their house he frowned . There was something different . Something wrong . .

He was walking slowly , looking all around himself , gripping the bouquet of flowers in his sweaty palm .

He stood in front of the door .

It was wrong . Something was wrong .

His mind scream . He hoped he was very paranoid once again .

His hand rose up to ring the door bell . He was nervous and afraid .

You are being worried for no reason .

He kept reasurinf himself.

So he rang .

Once

Twice

Four times . Four long times .

No one opened .

Was she home ? After all he came unannounced . Maybe she is sleeping ?

" Y/N! Y/N it's me ! Please open the door ! "

He was starting to sweat .

He searched with his shaking hands through his pocket to find the house keys . He unlocked the door . The house was empty and cold .

It was not smelling like her . Cause there was no one , she wasn't home . Not for an hour , not for the day , not here in a while .

He kept calling for her . " Y/N ! " He dropped the keys and flowers on the kitchen table .

He started roaming the house in panic . Even trying to sense some sort of smell . He was afraid she killed herself so his nose searched for the rotting corpse smell.

Every bad scenarios possible went through his head .

He ran towards their room . Empty .

Even their pets weren't there . She was gone .

Y/N left him . For real this time . For good .

He started to breath heavily . Tears forming in his eyes . The big box on their bed .

Inside of it all his gifts to her . All his clothes she loved wearing . He took one hoodie she often every time she was cleaning . He placed it under his nose . It still held her scent . Her ghost was there , in the shape of the memories one cardboard box held .

He was crying , repeating her name , calling it out . Kissing her dresses and watering them with tears .

He was on his own . There was no one he wanted more than her . He realized what he had once he lost it . He was alone for the first time .

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#damiano david #damiano maneskin #maneskin #italy #zitti e buoni #eurosong #eurovision #eurovision 2021 #eurovision italy #victoria de an #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #fanfic #sad #romance #relationship #breakup #lovers

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by. What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths. You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee. Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound. Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well. “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin. What could you possibly say about that? Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it. “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly. A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm. “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear. Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill. “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers. You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs. Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat). He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look. “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled. “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee. Do you want some? Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.” Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up. When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped. You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs. He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on? Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid. Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back. “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed. “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know! He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed. You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem? Strangeness? Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you. Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry. “Jesus, Michael! Are you hearing yourself? This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders! Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected. “It was never just sex. I love her. But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing. It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all. “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first. He had always had a bit of a temper. “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now? And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not. You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly. Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael. “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back. “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with. “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest. It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense. After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen. I'm not leaving with you. I'm not forgiving you. Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came. None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled. "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently. "I came here to tell you that I love you. I need you. And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it. We'll get through this. Isn't that what marriage is? Fighting for each other, struggling together?" He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw. "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you. But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that. "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do."

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber. "I want to stay and work this out," he explained. "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there. But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me. You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb. To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back. But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor. Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before. Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head. "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure. I'm moving on. Take it back," you demanded. He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band. "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away. "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed. "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him. You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms. “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest. "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again? Would you go to his? Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room. He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure. And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic

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