#the most basic fucking observations that i KNOW but hearing someone else acknowledge it and not berate me fucking sends me into TEARS
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everything you see ab being the oldest daughter is true btw why am i the family therapist AND punching bag smh
long ass depressing rant in the tags srry i got a wee bit emotional
#my dad has something going on where there's a ringing in his ear my mom has tendonitis and neck pain now#and i feel for both of them i'm goin to cvs to get the meds giving my mom massages every night talking to my dad to distract him#they're both going to the correct doctors#but just throwing it out there i have had tendonitis and chronic upper back pain for 5-6 years and no one gave a shit most i've gotten is#jokes that i'm faking it#i'm in physical therapy for my back NOW but that's bc i finally crawled out of the depression long enough to do it myself#which is fine whatever i'm 22 i should be the one making my own appointments and it'd be weird if i wasn't#but when i was 16 or 17???#being hospitalized for STRESS HEADACHES at 14 too???#who gets hospitalized for that shit and how were my parents not concerned that i at the age of 14 was#so stressed out that my head was pounding all the time#and bc i'm the third parent who has to be the only emotional safe space#i don't say anything if my sisters are rude to me bc at least they feel safe enough around me to be rude to me#i have to listen to everyone and their momma's problems#i'm in law school!!! i do not need this i'm anxious all the time!!!#and if i'm not anxious i'm depressed!!!#my therapist point blank tells me shit like 'you're incredibly lonely' or 'you have way too much on your shoulders' and it makes me CRY#the most basic fucking observations that i KNOW but hearing someone else acknowledge it and not berate me fucking sends me into TEARS#i get messages from online friends here like 'hey i saw your post you don't deserve that' i physically cannot keep my eyes dry!!#every time i have any interaction ever i am at least a little uncomfortable bc i am always trying so hard to make sure i come off as kind#and not awkward or mean#i feel like everyone around me was given some kind of how to manual on life that i wasn't#and i KNOW this is not unique tons and tons of people feel like this#i know this is the depression and the anxiety and the possible autism i'm well aware#but then every couple of days my mom gets the brilliant idea to tell me i'm rude or lazy or whatever and i lose my shit#i just wanna sleep and write fanfics in the nicest way possible i hate everyone#i will try my best to not be mean to anyone bc no one deserves it but i am angry and i am constantly feeling the hurt of my inner child#my MOTHER threw a hardcover book at my HEAD when i was ten bc i had been reading and hid the book under the pillow#what the actual fuck????#my dad's response to any and everything is to deal with it
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I'm anon about the "wind". Your answer to another question now is that Zabel doesn't understand Daryl's character, and I agree with you. and so my point of view is that Zabel is not behind shipbait. I think it's Norman's idea. yes, he is not responsible for everything. but he has influence, and he's the only one who knows his character or knows what makes people talk about him. and since Daryl is now alone, without his family and the people who identified him, they move on to a simple bait… and it all looks like rewriting the story with Leah and someone else
Okay, got it, thank you for following up. I agree that Zabel wouldn't have any interest in riling Caryl fans up. I don't think he was that knowledgeable of the fanbase. There's evidence he read Caryl scenes for his own purposes (or someone's purposes), but I don't think he was knowledgeable of Caryl's relationship or Daryl's and Carol's individual characters the way a showrunner who's written on TWD for many years or fans who actually watched the show from beginning to end would be knowledgeable. Until Melissa signed on for S2, Zabel was writing for his original character, Isabelle, and for Daryl, who he is treating like an original character in a lot of ways. Like @that-left-turn pointed out, he used to write for network TV where it's standard to tease something between the male and female leads. That's why I think he's leaning in that direction even though nothing will come of it in the end. So basically, his mistake was not bothering to do his homework, which is a huge fucking mistake in my book. I'm not saying he's solely responsible for the shipbaiting, but he is the reason why the shipbaiting could turn out to be the worst we've seen so far.
Then of course, there's AMC who have always relied on shipbaiting for engagement and apparently this time overestimated the fans' patience for it. And there's Norman who for some reason has to be marketed as the show's most eligible bachelor. Of all the players, I would've hoped he'd speak up on something that wasn't doing justice to the character he's played for over a decade. Based on what I've observed so far, I'm wary, but I think the fair thing for me to do is wait until S1 is over before I go further. The point I'm making right now is that the shipbaiting is a team effort, and like other Carylers have said elsewhere, I think it's helpful to call it out. All it does is insult everyone from the fans to the character to the actors who deserve so much better. If no one acknowledges it as the failure it is, then AMC will take that as permission to keep doing it.
Again, this is just my opinion as someone who's trying to pay attention to as much as possible and hear as many voices as possible. If not having the emotional capacity to watch the show from beginning to end invalidates my opinion, you are free to ignore it. Judge for yourself.
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Cheating prick (3/4)
tags: implied smut, drinking, very brief mentions of alcohol as a coping mechanism, sugawara is a prick
1 2 3
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A cup of steaming hot tea. The comforting scent of pine. A glass of red wine and dried tear streaks on your face.
You tried to focus on literally anything else but the current matter at hand.
Your best friend at across from you silently as he took in the information you have him.
When you broke up with your now ex-boyfriend, you had no idea what to do next. Celebrate? Cry?
You could do neither at that moment, so you got up and went to the man who introduced you to him in the first place.
"Well, this certainly wasn't what I was expecting to hear on a Saturday night" Daichi said, trying to lighten your mood a bit. He sipped his tea and looked at you. "What are you gonna do now?"
You stayed silent, pondering his question. You had come to his house in a moment of frustration and weakness, and you didn't really know what you wanted.
He had let you stay the night, taking one glance at your face and allowing you space to talk about it the next day. Only, you two didn't get to talk until right now as his shift just ended over an hour ago.
"I don't know, Dai." You said, downing the rest of your wine, the alcohol running down your throat. He always had good wine.
"I mean, I don't know what else is there to do. He's packed the rest of shit and I wasn't there for that, so, I really don't know"
You poured yourself another glass, Daichi watching you with observant eyes.
Silent befell the two of you, not really knowing what to say or do next.
"How long?"
You perked up, "Hm?"
"How long was he- you know," Daichi sipped his tea.
You sighed, recollecting the names in your little journal.
"Well, we've been together for 6 years, so the latter half of our relationship has just been him picking up different side pieces." You took a sip. "All because I got boring."
"Can't trust anyone these days." Daichi poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
"Listen, I'm so sorry I didn't find out sooner. I always felt like something was off. If I had known, then maybe you didn't have to go through that." He leaned in closer, resting his forearms on the table. Was he always that hot when he did that?
"Daichi, it isn't your fault. You didn't know, and honestly I should have left when it first happened." You put your leg up on your chair, resting your elbow on it, your hand to your temple.
The glass of wine sat comfortably in your free hand, swirling it, you took a sip. Daichi eyed your glass warily.
"I'm taking this from you," he took the glass of wine from your hand, placing it on his side of the table. "I really wanna keep you sober for this"
"Why? Afraid I'll do something I'll regret?" You asked, shifting in your seat.
"No, just a precaution that this doesn't become a habit for you. I mean, you knew about my dad, didn't you?" Daichi raised his eyebrows are you. Concern evident in his face and voice.
You said nothing, acknowledging his concern.
You observed him silently instead. He seemed distracted, which was rare for him.
Daichi's mind was full of questions. Primarily why. Why did Sugawara do what he did? Why did he give up the one he loved just for that playboy fuck to break the heart that truly loved him.
He was angry. Angry that his best friend was hurt. Angry that he distanced himself from you just for Sugawara to be able to pursue you only for it to have been broken by someone who wasn't loyal.
But most of all, he hated seeing you cry. He loved you so, so much. He wanted nothing more than to kiss you, hold you in his arms, console you, anything to soothe his aching heart.
Not yet, says his mind. His heart, however..
You, on the other hand, are also angry. Angry that you basically threw away your life to be with him just for it to be mesningless in the end. You wanted your revenge.
And was it just you, or was Daichi kind of..hot.
Then just like that,
Ding!
A plan formed in your head.
Sugawara Koushi removed himself as your constant the moment he cheated on you. So why not take his? Why not claim the very person who had his back through thick and thin.
What if, you fucked Daichi Sawamura?
And that's what you did.
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@multi-fandom-fanfic
@nachotrash
@selfdeprecatingnerd
@haitanifxn
#:)#well#things are heating up#daichi x reader#daichi x you#daichi fluff#daichi angst#sugawara koushi#sugawara#daichi#daichi sawamura#sugawara angst#sugawara x reader#sugawara x you
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Hi dear, I was wondering if you could do headcanon about slashers having s/o, who is really insecure, that she is not pretty enough, doubts herself and is afraid that she is not worthy of them.. So basically some comforting fluff? 👉👈
Some of these are kinda nsfw. Mostly just Jesse and Asa’s though.
-Fern🌿
Michael Meyers
Michael was a person who didn’t understand social cues and had no clue how to deal with people and their emotions. But he’s also a stalker who is good at observing people and you’re the love of his life.
He notices the way you look at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes so sad and also so filled with hate at the same time. Your eyes always focus on the same parts of you and it’s like he can almost hear the criticizing thoughts in your head.
Today as you stood in the mirror your hands squeezed your sides, wishing that your waist was small like all those models on TV and magazines. You wish you looked like the girls you noticed Michael always looking at, the kind of girls he always seemed to admire.
You were so busy glaring yourself down you hadn’t even noticed Michael walk up behind you until he was setting his hands on top of yours. His mask was still down over his face, so your eyes met the empty dark holes of it in the mirror. You had only ever seen him without it once before.
Spinning around in his arms, you turned to look up at him, “You’re being extra sneaky today, I didn’t even hear you unlock the door.” He didn’t look down at you, his head still tilted up, watching you in the mirror. The fact he didn’t acknowledge what you said made your heart drop.
That was until his hands left yours and crept up to his mask, slowly removing it. His blue eyes searched yours before tilting your chin up and placing a firm kiss to your lips. Without breaking the kiss he grabbed your hips and picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you over to the bed.
He planned on showing you just how much he appreciated you and your body.
Bo Sinclair
It was pretty common for Bo to make comments about your body. His sexual comments sometimes made you feel slightly better, like you were desirable. Other times it made you feel like a piece of meat, like all you were good for was a quick fuck.
Bo may be insensitive and he usually never thought twice about what he said, but he was also observant and good at picking up on people’s emotions. He noticed when his comments stopped making you laugh and shove his chest and you began to force a smile that looked more like a grimace. Still, he was Bo, and he figured that if it really mattered you would just tell him to shut his trap.
After some time though he figures it’s best to lay off the vulgar comments and switch on the southern charm. He can sweet talk anyone he wants but he especially loves the power he holds over you whenever he uses that charm against you. You’re so easy to fluster, you melt into him every time he compliments you.
He quickly decides that he enjoys praising you. After all, it seems to make you so needy for him. The fact you seek out his praise just fuels that big ego of his.
Comes up with plenty of pet names. His favorites are definitely darlin’ and pretty girl though. Calling you honey is one of his cheesier favorites. You can expect him to start saying “Honey, I’m home,” whenever he comes home in a good mood. If he doesn’t say it, it’s best to just hand him a beer and let him yell at whoever he decides to be upset with.
If you open up to him about your insecurities he really won’t say much. Bo has never been a big feelings person and he doesn’t know how to do a good job of comforting or relating to people. However, you’ll notice him being extra sweet and affectionate. Just don’t mention it or else he’ll feel the need to be an asshole. He’s gotta keep up hsi reputation after all.
Long story short, Bo isn’t all bad and he can be soft and sweet sometimes.
Vincent Sinclair
Vincent saw you as his muse, his goddess, his reason for living and he made sure to always show you exactly how much you meant to him.
He knew your body better than you ever could. His hands had traced every curve, every dip, every perfect imperfection of you and he could always find something new about you to admire.
Vincent knew the parts of you that he hated, so he always made sure to pay extra attention to those parts of your body just to show you how much he admired everything about you. Everything you thought was the worst part of you would quickly become his favorite.
He’s no stranger to insecurity, he grew up in a small town where people loved to talk and gossip. Talk and gossip isn’t much fun when you’re the kid with only half of a face who wears a mask everywhere he goes because his parents didn’t like to look at him. He would rather die than to ever let you feel that way about yourself.
He still has a favorite part of you though and that’s your eyes. They tell him everything he ever needs to know about what you’re thinking or feeling. He’s seen your eyes show how much you hated your reflection to the amount of love for him that was bottled up within you. Your eyes always gave away what you were thinking, which allowed him to be able to swoop in any time you were troubled.
You quickly become one of his favorite things to draw. He no longe needs a reference for you anymore either, he has your whole body memorized. He couldn’t forget anything about you no matter how hard he tried. Even then, why would he ever want to forget something as beautiful and perfect as you.
Brahms Heelshire
He completely understands feeling insecure. After all he had to hide in the walls and cover his face after the fire. He watched his parents love a doll more than they could ever love him. So he makes sure to tell you how beautiful he thinks you are even if you aren’t a blonde. But he doesn’t understand why you feel like you don’t deserve him.
Brahmsy thinks you’re the best person ever, he wouldn’t have kept you as his nanny if he didn’t think that you were perfect. After all you take care of him and handle everything your strange life throws at you.
He’s seen every part of you while hiding in those walls and there isn’t a single part of you that he isn’t mesmerized by.
There really isn’t ever anyone for you to feel lesser than in the manor. After all, it is just you, Brahms, and Malcolm. However, if anyone ever came along and made you feel inferior or undeserving Brahms wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of them. He can’t have you feeling upset.
He’s touched starved and handsy so he uses each and every single chance you give him to explore your body. There’s nothing he wants more than to touch every part of you. He’s in awe of you and he wants to show you just how much he needs you.
He makes sure to express to you that if either of you weren’t worthy of the other it would be him. After all, he got extra lucky for you to have stumbled into his grasp and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you escape.
Thomas Hewitt
There’s not a moment where he isn’t showing you just how much he loves you. Once he becomes comfortable with you, Thomas is surprisingly affectionate. He is not against PDA and the family never mentions it. After all Luda Mae wants grand babies and Hoyt knows better than to anger Tommy. Besides, Luda Mae thinks that the two of you are absolutely adorable.
Thomas is well aware of how it feels to hate the reflection in the mirror and he hates that you could ever feel that way about yourself. He does his best to show you that he sees you in a completely different light than you see yourself in. To him, you’re the sweetest most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth.
The fact you think you don’t deserve him leaves him feeling flustered. He never expected anyone to love him the way that you do. For you to say you’re not good enough for him blows his mind. He’s a murderer and he doesn’t see how you could ever find him attractive. He. Can’t even speak to tell you how much he adores you but there’s times where he really wishes he could.
Whenever you’re having days where you feel more self critical than usual he puts off his chores to take care of you. Hoyt can bitch all that he wants, Thomas is always going to put you first. Will spend all day in bed with you running his hands over your body and placing gentle kisses against your skin.
Listens to anything you have to say. Although he can’t contribute much to the conversation, Tommy is still a very expressive person. You can see the criticizing look he gives you anytime you say something negative about yourself. He’s not above huffing and rolling his eyes either, grumbling anytime you say something that he doesn’t like.
Billy Loomis
It’s no secret that Billy had plenty of people throwing themselves at him. Sure, he never really paid much attention to them, but that doesn’t change the fact that so many people wanted your boyfriend. So, it was easy for you to begin to think about how easy it would be for Billy to find someone better than you.
As soon as you open up to Billy about these things he’s quick to shut those thoughts down. After all, Billy rarely ever let’s people get as close to him as you have. In fact, the only other person that comes close is Stu. Billy wouldn’t have opened up to you if he didn’t think that you were permanent and he makes sure that you know that.
Begins to shut down all your self critical comments as well. Before he just thought you were joking, and in a way you still were, but he knew that you thought there was some truth to your words. He’s basically going to force you to be kinder to yourself whether you like it or not.
Billy can be an ass sometimes, he likes to pick fights, and he can be insensitive, but never would he use something he knows your insecure about as leverage against you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.
Lots of heavy petting and make out sessions whenever your having days where you feel more self loathing than usual. You may not like the person in the mirror but he sure as hell does. He’s gonna make sure you know just how much he loves you and how much he loves your body as well.
Stu Macher
Simply cannot allow you to think that you are anything but the hottest and coolest person on the planet.
Before, it was pretty common for Stu to flirt with the girls at his parties, sometime he could even get kinda handsy. However, as soon as he finds out that you’re doubting yourself, he cuts it out quick. No one could be better than you and he feels bad that he even allowed you to think he could ever be interested in anyone else but you.
He enjoyed showing off but once he finds out your insecure he begins to flaunt the fact you’re his. Points out how many people wish could be him whenever he’s showing you off. He believes that if you see how many people want you but can’t have you, you’ll start to feel more confident.
Stu has always been very affectionate, which includes being physically affectionate. Don’t think that he would ever shy away from PDA either. You point out someone staring at him, jealous of you? Great, he’ll make sure to make out with you right in front of them to prove he’s off the market. Won’t hesitate to feel you up in front of people either cause he’s definitely a perverted little shit.
Lots of cuddling and compliments from him. Also enjoys spoiling you to show you just how much he loves you. Shopping sprees to find clothes you feel confident in become very common.
Jesse Cromeans
For you to not feel good enough for him insinuates the idea he has bad taste, and Jesse does not have bad taste. He will go to any length to prove that to you as well.
His favorite pet name for you is princess because to him you might as well be royalty. He wants you to know that your a treasure to him. Expect to be spoiled with the finest clothes, expensive jewelry, you’ll be living lavishly once your Jesse’s. He sees himself as your protector and provider, prides himself in that fact, so obviously you deserve nothing but the best there is.
Jesse understands what it’s like to be insecure, especially after what Gem did to his face, so he’s quick to shut down any negative comments. He knows how to say all the right things as well so you can expect plenty of messages from him that make you absolutely melt. This man can charm anyone, but he mainly focuses that charm on you.
Likes to dress you up in expensive lingerie and tell you how pretty you are before absolutely wrecking you. Jesse will make sure to praise you the entire time.
Feeling insecure about what his employees think of you? He’ll make you sit on his lap during his meetings just to show you off. If you’re blushing like crazy it just makes him feel more justified in caressing your body while his employees can do nothing but stare at the pretty little thing in his lap. Although, if they stare for to long they’ll no longer be an employee or alive.
Would most definitely fuck you in front of a mirror just to show you what he sees. Look at how pretty you are when he’s absolutely wrecking you, how could he not be in awe of you.
Asa Emory
Do you really think that you would be the most prized part of his collection if you weren’t the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. You’re his favorite pet, he keeps you in his home, in his bed, you don’t get to feel unworthy. Although, the fact you feel like you don’t deserve him would fuel his god complex.
If you’re having a hard time with your insecurities his rough touch will turn into gentle caressing. It’s a rare occasion so make sure to savor the moment.
He notices when you’re feeling upset. Asa knows that being away from you so much gives your mind more time to run rampant. So whenever he’s been away longer than normal he makes sure to indulge you a little bit, even if he is busy. Expect him to let you sit in his lap while he works on grading papers and assignments that he’s gotten behind on. Occasionally he’ll rub your back as you snuggle against his chest. He’s allowed to be soft sometimes to.
Admires everything about your body and he makes sure you know it. Gently caresses and kisses every part of you, especially the parts you’re insecure about.
Much like Jesse, mirror sex is 100% on the table. Asa would love nothing more than for you to see just how beautifully you fall apart because of his touch. He knows your body better than you do and never fails to get exactly the reaction he wants from you.
Domestic Asa Domestic Asa Domestic Asa. If you’re having an extra hard time with your insecurities he would definitely make you breakfast in bed. For just one day you’ll be allowed to call the shots. Or at least you’ll believe you’re the one calling the shots.
#slasher x reader#slasher x you#slashers#slasher hcs#michael myers x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#brahms heelsire x reader#brahms x reader#the boy x reader#leatherface x reader#thomas x reader#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#ghostface x reader#chromeskull x reader#jesse cromeans x reader#asa emory x reader#the collector x reader#tcm the beginning#scream#house of wax#thomas hewitt#michael myers#bo sinclair#the boy 2016#the collected#the collection#the collector
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Getting To Know Them || Slasher x Reader Bf/Gf Scenarios Pt 2
Jason Voorhees
When you woke, you were lying in a dim living room. The windows were boarded with thick, rotting oak planks and the doors were bolted shut. The only light left to illuminate the room was a small lamp on the old, rustic coffee table in front of you. Beneath you was a somewhat scratchy couch, clearly taken off of someone's front line with a paper labeled "free to take" on it, or from some dump. However, you were thankful that it at least wasn't the creaky wooden floor instead. You scratched at the rope around your wrists, loosened from being wriggled around and messed with.
You sat up and allowed your vision to re-adjust, and saw the same man in flannel and ski-mask in an arm-chair on the other side of the coffee table. He didn't seem to notice your awakening, or he at least didn't acknowledge it. He was reading a book with a maroon cover, and you couldn't make out the small copper-shaded title. You studied his movement. He was calm and showed little emotion in his body language, simply reading in peace.
In a split second, you decided to break the peace and silence. "Who are you?" The man put down the book in his lap, but only looked up at you for a moment, silent. You could see him think, then make a few hand gestures. You came to the realization that it was ASL, but you never really learned the language, despite your interest in it. You saw him take a deep breath and get up, grabbing a pen and a notebook off a table to the side. He slid the items onto the coffee table before you and slowly unbound your wrists. You wrote your question out again, "Who are you?" and slid it around for him to see. He read it, and wrote quickly, in slightly messy handwriting, "Jason. any more questions?" and slid the items back.
From here, you two went on for hours, listing out questions on the notebook and answering them for each other. You filled out pages and pages, ranging from basic questions to things like "what was your childhood like?" Certain things like that, he would pause and then write that he didn't want to talk about it. Through the night or day (due to the lack of natural light, it was hard to tell,) this game went on.
Michael Myers
Though you tried your best and struggled and squirmed, the man who had taken you still had gotten you tied to a chair; where you sat with a belt tying your wrists to the wooden beams, thankfully with a cushion underneath your rear. You shut your eyes for a second and groaned, throwing your head back. You always thought of yourself as strong and independent, a fighter who didn't need help from anyone. Alas, this was one ass you couldn't kick, and you hated yourself for it.
Across the kitchen, the bright lights shined on the tiled floor, and a tea kettle whistled ceaselessly. The sound of running water stopped as the man who had taken you walked from the bathroom and into the kitchen. The man dried his hands on his pants and took the kettle off the burner, shutting the flames off. You observed him take two random mugs from the cabinets above, and place them on the white countertop. He carefully poured the tea into the two cups, and a light herbal smell filled the air. After a moment, you recognized the smell of hibiscus tea. This was a familiar smell, something your aunt made every morning when you spent the night at her house in the summers between school years.
The man walked over and brought the two cups with him. A low, slightly muffled, silky voice came from behind the mask as he slid a mug across the table to you. "Careful, it's scolding." The tall, built man walked across and unbuckled one of your arms from the chair for you to pick up the mug with. "Drink." He said, before taking a seat before you. This is when he slid the mask off, to reveal a face beneath that you never would have expected. Dark brown, shaggy, messy, wavy hair fell over his forehead, and he blew it out of his grey eyes. His face was scarred and his lips were chapped, but it somehow wasn't unappealing or revolting.
"What's your name? Who the fuck are you?" You asked, leaning as far as you could with your restraints still intact. The man pushed his hair back and sighed heavily, sipping the near boiling tea. "Michael. 24. Libra." He said in a monotone voice. You rolled your eyes. "This is an introduction to your victim, not The Dating Game." You told him harshly. "Well, is there something specific you wanna know? It's not like your giving me anything to go off of, sugar cube." 'Michael' replied with the same energy in return. "Fine. I'm (Y/N). What else is there to say?"
Carrie White
Like the pale girl suggested, Carrie if you remembered correctly, you came back to the public library next Sunday, around noon. You had finished the book you had most recently checked out, so you had to return it anyways. Walking down the pavement, you saw here in a light sundress, walking up the few steps and into the library. You ran to catch up and followed her, careful not to startle the girl. As soon as you got inside, you carried yourself to just behind her, and tapped on her shoulder.
The girl turned around, and a look of confusion appeared on her features. "(Y/N). We met here last week? I suggested you check out Narnia." You reminded her, an eager smile painted on your face. A spark formed in her eyes, and she returned your smile. "Oh! Yes, yes, I remember. I'm sorry, my mind is awfully clouded lately." You assured her that it was alright, and you two went along.
The two of you walked down the aisles of bookshelves, and she looked for something new to try out. Maybe she would check out a cook-book and try a new recipe, or read up on WW1. Although, you DID notice that she avoided the religious aisle. However, you didn't comment on this, out of respect. You two checked out a few books, and on the paved outdoor steps, you stopped her. "Would you like to go for coffee or tea? Even a pastry? There's a little shop down the street, I'll buy. I'd just like to talk a bit.
Carrie obliged happily, and the two of you took your books and walked down to the small cafe. It had a dim, rustic theme, and brought peace to anyone who entered it's walls. There was a faint vanilla sent in the air, welcoming you two. For about an hour, Carrie sat down with you and talked about your life, your week, basic things. It was nice to get to know her. She seemed kind, and gentle. Everything about her was graceful, from the way she sipped her latte to the way she tucked her strawberry blonde hair behind her ear. As you two finished up your chats, you grabbed your things and greeted each other farewell, agreeing to meet again next week.
Jennifer Check
The pair of you had become half-decent lab partners over the last few weeks, but she didn't seem to be doing well with the subject. As a result, you decided that you would volunteer to tutor her in the subject after school. So, there you were, on your way to her house after school to hang out and help her study up on the subject and with the homework. It was a cloudy day, and you could tell that a storm was brewing in those clouds above your head. Because of this, you decided to walk a bit faster to avoid being soaked.
As you arrived at Jennifer's house, you knocked gently on the door. When you received no answer, you hesitantly knocked harder. Very suddenly, a slightly older woman answered the door, assumingly Jennifer's mom. The woman looked you up and down, then quickly turned to yell over her shoulder, "Jenny! Your new friend is here!" She then quickly invited you in and brought you a small tray of white-chocolate macadamia nut cookies, offering you to take one or two ((If you have an allergy to nuts, then M&M cookies.)) "I made these for you two while you were studying. There's also sodas in the fridge in case you need a drink." Jennifer's mom said joyfully, before scooping the strap of a purse onto her shoulder. "I'll be off now, I have a job interview to get to. Jen's room is upstairs, first door on the right. Have fun you two!" She informed you before heading out the door.
You walked up the stairs until you found an oak door, and knocked before coming in. "Uh, hi, it's (Y/N), I'm here to help you study..?" You said as you slowly walked in and shut the door behind you. Jennifer was standing, looking in the mirror and smearing concealer under her eyes. She sighed and looked over to you. "Sit on the bed. You know, I was gonna gut you like a fish and drink your blood like a Slurpee, but my mom seems to like you, and I don't think you're too bad. Shame, would have been a great opportunity." She said nonchalantly. As she turned to you, you saw that her face was pale and broken out in acne.
Your heart skipped a beat and the color drained from your face. "I'm sorry, w-what...?" You tried to gulp down the fear in your words. "I'm a succubus, idiot. Don't think that I didn't notice you staring at the blood on my shoes the first day we met. I feed on people's bodies and sexual energy so I can feel good and look good. But I've decided you're worth keeping around, so I'll save that for the next chump. So, shall we get to know each other?" She said calmly as she sat down beside you on the bed.
Billy Loomis
You were home alone yet again, but this time it was mid day. You were watching horror movies out of boredom on your couch, when you got a call. You hesitantly answered, to hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone. "I'm here, come let me in." You carried the phone with you. You figured one of your friends had stopped by to say hi, and their voice just sounded messed up due to shitty reception. You went to your front door, and looked through the peephole to see someone in a shitty costume, probably from Walmart, as it was October, and stores were starting to sell Halloween costumes and decorations. You hung up the phone and stuck it in your pocket, opening the door slightly with the chain lock still intact.
"Cut it out, prankster. That's not a very creepy costume. Ooo! I'm so scared!! Listen, I've seen the original Japanese film The Ring a million times, I'm not too scared of much." You heard the person sigh and push the door forward aggressively, breaking the lock. You jumped back in shock. "Hey! You're paying for that, asshole!" You yelled only for a quick response. "No, I don't think I will, beautiful. The man said, taking off his mask. To your shock, it was someone that you went to school with, Billy Loomis. You remember him graduating just the year before you, and were a bit shocked at his sudden appearance. You two had talked a bit, and you could consider yourselves acquaintances, but never really close friends.
Billy took a step forward, and in turn, you took one back. He put his hands up, showing he had no weapons in his hands. "Look, I'm not gonna hurt, that's not what I came to do. I just want to...get to know you. Look, you can pat me down, if you really feel the need. I don't have any weapons on me." You lowered your defenses a bit, but still kept them up. "Why would you want to know me so bad?" You asked hesitantly. "Well, I looked through your window and realized I'd found you again. And I wanted to get to know the pretty (girl/boy/person) I used to look at in the hallways every day." He said in a smooth tone. And that's where your night started.
Thomas Hewitt
It was a lovely Texas summer day. A warm breeze carried through the semi-tall grass in the fields, and the smell of fresh bread filled the small wooden house. On this fine afternoon, you happened to be listening to some old music, from the 50s-60s, and baking. When you least expected it, you heard a loud knock on the door. You figured it might have been one of your new neighbors looking to get to know you, or ask to borrow something. You strolled to the door and opened it, to see a rather large man in a butcher's apron, curly dark hair, and a rather scarred face on the other side. Though he had somewhat of a threatening aura, you knew that there was more behind his appearance.
You saw him open his mouth, but then stop and think for a moment. He hesitantly put his hands up and made a few broken and hand signals. You realized quickly that it was sign language, as you had an uncle growing up that happened to be deaf, so you learned it so that you two could talk. "I'm not deaf, I just don't like to speak." You watched him sign apprehensively, and responded allowed. "That's okay, hun. What can I do for you?" You asked, and he thought for a moment. "Do you have some salt I can use? Papa shot a..." He stopped for a moment, then looked back up to meet your eyes. "Papa shot a deer, and we ran out of salt to dry out the hide and season the meat." He asked, and you replied. "Of course! Come right in, I keep a few bags in the cupboard, I have a half-full one you can take home." You told him as you allowed him to come in and shut the door behind him.
Your bread sat warm in the window-sill, cooling down. As you handed him the salt, he pointed over to it. "Oh, do you want a piece?" He nodded aggressively, and you smiled. You grabbed the metal baking sheet and put it on the counter, slicing a few pieces. "Here, you can have more than one. I make it all the time, and it's just me here to eat it anyways." You told him. "Would you like to sit down and chat for a moment? I can make you tea or coffee too if you like? You can tell me about yourself. That is, if you don't have to be home right quick." The man nodded again, and set the salt down on the counter. "My name's Thomas. I'd like some...Peppermint tea, if you have it." The man signed to you, his guard down as he clearly felt welcomed in the household. "Okay, Thomas, right on it." You smiled warmly and handed him a thick slice of warm bread with butter and mulberry jam smeared over the top. "Take a seat, dear."
____________________________________________
~Author's Note~
Hi guys, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this second part out :( I've just been really stressed and not in a great mental place, plus the factor of writer's block and being scared to burn myself out. But thank you for those who have stayed through the hiatus to continue reading!! Please comment below if you have any character or scenario requests. Goodbye for now, loves!
#jason vorhees#jason vorhees x reader#Michael Myers#michael myers x reader#slashers#slasher bf scenarios#slasher gf scenarios#billy loomis#billy loomis x reader#scream#horror movies#halloween#friday the 13th#jennifer's body#jennifer check#carrie white#carrie 1976#texas chainsaw massacre#Thomas Hewitt#thomas hewitt x reader
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Alfie Solomons x Reader: Beauty and the Beast
Part 1
Authors note: this is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders, and my first time writing a fic in a while, so please feel free to bully me for my inaccuracies! also I might change the title later cuz idk what else to title this. Enjoy!
—-
Polly pretended to disapprove of you and Arthur’s shenanigans. Reality was, she knew with you around, Arthur couldn’t get into too much trouble. True, it was not the most respectable of hobbies for a lady, to be playing cards and hanging around bars every Friday night. However, Arthur couldn’t be getting any whores pregnant when he had to watch over his young cousin. And he’d make sure you’d stay out of trouble, too. Tommy had a similar line of thinking. Although with this latest scheme, you weren’t sure you had his full support.
“Are you sure this is the best idea?”
“I think,” Arthur paused for a beat, stroking his mustache. “It will go smoothly. You want to prove yourself, that you can function in this line of business, this is it.”
“And what did Tommy say about it?” You questioned. He’d sent Arthur in his place for a meeting with Mr Solomons. You were sitting in the car outside of the distill- bakery. Arthur insisted that you come along to this meeting. Camden Town was a bit nicer than Birmingham-though not by much.
“You know Tommy, he’s, well, you know,” he blustered. In the back seat, Billy coughed.
So Tommy was not aware of this arrangement. “Right.” But you were not going to NOT go in.
You’d bumped into Mr Solomons once. He’d been leaving after having a conversation with Tommy. You scampered away before he could say anything to you. Not out of fear of him; you ran away because you were afraid Tommy would know you’d been eavesdropping. Though Mr Solomons had made a reputation for himself, from what you’d overheard, he sounded like a bit of a clown.
“Are you coming or are you going to stay in the car like a baby?”
“I’m not a baby,” you protested and stepped out into the cold air. “Finn is a baby.”
“Yeah, and I didn’t invite him for a reason.” Arthur punctuated the sentence with a slam of the automobile door.
You adjusted your outfit, making sure you looked proper and professional. “Let’s get this over with.”
A man awaited you by the door and led you inside the distillery. It was dark, and damp. The odor of rum-er, bread, permeated the air. The smell made you light headed. Your shoes echoed on the cement, the loudest sound in the room.
As you descended into the labyrinth, a man appeared from behind a corner. Mr. Solomons himself.
His hat cast an ominous shadow over his face- definitely planned for theatrical effect.
He did not react to your presence. If he recognized you he gave no sign. “Welcome, welcome! You must be Arthur!”
“Mr. Solomons,” Arthur greeted, offering a hand.
“I’ve head so much about you,” Mr. Solomons said. The amusement in his voice was evident. He wasn’t taller than your cousin, but he was stockier and way more intimidating. Billy stood on the opposite side of you, wary of the large man.
Arthur replied, “Shalom.”
You cringed. Mr. Solomons gaze flickered to one of his men behind Arthur.
“Let me just say, Shalom,” Arthur repeated, painfully serious. You felt ill. If it were a less tense situation you would have smacked him over the head.
Solomons tilted his head just enough for you to get a glimpse of the look of incredulity on his face.
“Shalom!” He said. “So glad you could join us for this most joyous of celebrations! And I see you’ve brought friends for the occasion.” Solomons nodded in your direction. You’d been instructed by Arthur to not speak too much or get involved. The same went for Billy.
Arthur shifted on his feet. “This is my cousin, and my associate. Shall we discuss business?”
“Cousin, eh? From the sounds of it, there’s a new Shelby every fucking week.” Mr Solomons chuckled. “Come along, come along.”
He lead you into a room with a table in the center. Something was off. Perhaps it was the comment Arthur had made. It had surely offended them. The Solomons men hadn’t even looked at you. Not that you wanted to be looked at. It was unusual, though. They weren’t even looking at each other.
Something else in the room caught your attention; a goat tied to the leg of the table. It bleated sadly at you. You resisted the urge to pet it.
Mr Solomons circled the table and gestured. You took note of the pipe in his hand that also seemed to function as a cane. “Take a seat, why don’t you?”
Arthur hesitated, both you and Billy watching him before making a move.
He took the chair on the end. Some of the Solomons boys were standing behind the three of you in a perfect line. Another one took a chair next to Mr Solomons, still not looking at you.
Mr Solomons himself remained standing, studying Billy like he was the most fascinating thing on the planet. “And you’ll be...”
“Billy,” Billy said.
Mr. Solomons focused his attention on you. “Shelby?”
“(Y/n),” was your answer as you sat down at the table. There were plates and cups arranged before you. You kept your hands in your lap, careful not to touch anything.
“(Y/n)...You know, out there in the sand, out there in the desert where me forefathers come from... started out as a little speck...”
“Is everything alright?” Billy leaned over to whisper to Arthur. One of the men lurking around had shut the door behind you while Mr. Solomons rambled on. Arthur tried to dismiss Billy’s concerns with a wave.
“Billy, don’t worry mate, yeah, if you want you can leave. If you need to go to the little boys room or something you can leave.” Mr. Solomons interrupted, sounding a little too much like a school teacher.
“He’s alright, he’s alright,” Arthur grinned, rubbing Billy’s shoulder. “Billy boy.”
Your stomach churned. Something was wrong. This was not the kind of conversation that Tommy and Mr Solomons had had the day you eavesdropped. This was not the simple meeting you were promised.
“You want to stay?” Mr Solomons asked Billy; staring at him so intensely you had to look away.
“I’ll stay.”
“You stay there, then, treacle.” Mr Solomons grimaced, and his voice suddenly became much louder. “So! The pharaoh! Have you heard of him?”
Without thinking, you nodded, and he pointed in acknowledgement at you.
“He kept my people, the Jewish people, in slavery for thousands of years.”
“Persecuted, right,” Arthur interjected, pleased with himself for making this astute observation. Mr Solomons eyes lit up with amusement.
“He did, he persecuted my race. killing the innocent, right. So this feast that we’re having here , is basically the day what when the Jewish angels decided the evil fucking Egyptians had pushed their fucking luck!”
“Right,” Arthur added.
“It’s part of our tradition to do this, for in order to make it good with god to kill a king.”
Oh fuck. You glanced towards your cousin. By the look on his innocent smiling face he had not come to the conclusion you had. Okay, keep it cool. From the rumors you knew Mr Solomons was an intelligent man who spoke in idiotic riddles. You could have been misreading things. Sabini could be the pharaoh in the story.
“Right,” Arthur said again. What was Tommy doing at this moment?
“That is the ritual of the sacrifice of the pass over goat.” Mr Solomons said.
Everyone at the table turned to look at the bleating creature.
Arthur looked ill. “A goat?”
Mr Solomons gestured to it. “Yeah, we’re gonna sacrifice it. Tonight. That’s part of the reason why we have to shut the doors as well.”
You wished Arthur had let you keep a gun. You were a sitting duck. Every muscle in your body tensed, ready for the action. No, Tommy wasn’t the pharaoh.
“But this year we thought we’d give the fucking goat a name!” He grinned.
“You named it.”
“We fucking did.”
You averted your eyes as a man put a knife to the goats neck. “Arthur?”
“You named the fucking goat.” He shifted in his chair. It seemed as if he was catching on.
“Evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh-“
“The fucking-“
“And you know what we called it?”
“What’d you call it?”
Your hands balled into fists.
“Tommy Shelby,” Mr Solomons answered with a hint of triumph.
As the blood of the goat spilled on the ground you dropped to the floor. Chaos ensued; a gunshot fired so loud your ears rang. It took a few seconds for your hearing to return. Arthur was screaming. You looked up to see poor Billy slumped in his chair, covered in blood, not moving. You brought your knees to your chest and covered your head to avoid any potential stray bullets. Three of the men had to restrain Arthur, who thrashed and cursed.
Heavy footsteps approached. You scooted back further under the safety of the table. Trying to help him would be useless; you were outnumbered and they had guns.
Arthur went quiet, his freckled face pale.
The back of Mr. Solomons came into view.
“That’s that. So, and the evil Egyptian scum was finally cleansed by the blood of the Passover goat. Mate.”
You covered your moth with a hand.
He kissed Arthur’s cheek twice. “That’s for Sabini.”
Then he promptly bashed Arthur over the head. Funnily enough, it brought back memories of all the times you’d seen Arthur do the same thing to someone else. The urge to laugh overwhelmed you.
Mr Solomons dropped into a squat and placed the gun he’d shot Billy with into Arthur’s hand.
While he was in this position he noticed you under the table.
“Ah, hello there,” he grunted, eyes looking you up and down.
You wanted to swear, or grab the gun from Arthur’s limp hand, or do something very impressive.
He stared at you, waiting for a reply.
“Hi,” you sputtered out. “Is he dead?”
“Oh, nah, that would ruin the fun. You were not supposed to be here tonight.”
“I know.”
“Right. What the fuck am I going to do with you?”
“Let me go?” You suggested. It was worth a try.
He scratched his beard, lost in thought. “Cute, but I think not. That wouldn’t exactly wrap things up nicely, would it?”
A heavy pause lingered in the air. You pulled your knees in even closer, in an instinctual effort to protect yourself.
“Ok. Well! Lads, why don’t you take our guest upstairs?”
“Excuse me? No, no way.”
One of the men grabbed your arm, yanking you to your feet.
“Hey!” You struggled to get your arm free.
Mr Solomons stood up and turned away from you.
“You’re gonna kidnap me and you can’t even look me in the face! Fucking coward!” You shoved the man off but slipped in the blood on the floor, letting him get the advantage.
Another grabbed your other arm and despite your best efforts you couldn’t elbow him off. The near tumble had discombobulated you.
Mr Solomons glanced over his shoulder, as cool as a cucumber. “My good friends the London police are here if you’d prefer to go with them.”
The shock of what he’d said made you forget to fight. “Wait, what?” He didn’t have police on his payroll. Oh, Sabini did, how could you forget?
“Get the fuck off me!” You screamed.
The two men dragged you out the same moment as the doors flung open. A group of police stormed the room.
“Fucking animal came in here with a gun and he shot him in the face!” Mr. Solomons gestured with his cane, ignoring your pleas for help. “And my lads restrained him. Look at him! He’s dead! Is he dead! He’s fucking dead!” His false astonished voice followed you down the hall.
You fought back with all your effort.
“Stop fucking fighting, you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you too!” One of them said.
“Oh, how kind! How generous! Please be sure to thank him for me! Arthur! Arthur!” You didn’t know why you were screaming for him. They were carting him off to jail. Fuck. Would Tommy know? How long would it take for him to find out? “Bastards!”
Going upstairs was the worst part; you managed to slither out of their grip and ran up a few steps before tripping onto your face. They at least had the decency to not laugh.
The upstairs appeared to be some sort of flat. The two assholes threw you into the closest room, probably out of desperation to be free of you.
“What are you going to do with me?” You demanded, although you were scared of the answer.
They exchanged glances. They had let you free but blocked the door.
“Well, we’re not sure. He didn’t really give us instructions.” One said.
“I could give you some instructions. How about you go shove a-“ the threat was enough. Without rhyme or reason you charged at them like a bull.
Before you could spring your attack, they slipped out, locking the door behind themselves.
Slamming your fists on the door, you swore at them, every word imaginable.
Once you exhausted yourself you switched gears. Taking in the room; you noticed a bed shoved against a wall, a large, messy desk, and a small window. The style of the room was at least ten years out of date, and was covered in what looked like ten years of dust. This must be where Mr Solomons slept. For someone who had money he didn’t live like it.
You moved to the one window in the room. Here was a potential escape route. Except for the crowd of men huddled outside smoking. They wore aprons, like the others you saw. There was no way you could get past all of them.
But you could once they left. The only issue was making sure nothing happened to you in between then and now.
Who knew what upsetting plans he had for you? He fucking shot Billy. He could have shot you. Maybe the only reason he did it was because the police were nearby. He could be on his way up here at this very moment.
You needed to block the door. Anything to stall for time.
There was a coat rack in the corner that you used. The large cabinet full of decorative China plates looked easy to push; after a few tense moments of pushing you abandoned it and went for the desk. You investigated your work. The door could still be opened a few inches. Anything more than that would be blocked.
It should be enough. It didn’t feel like it. You were becoming aware of the heavy, dull ache in your muscles. Your ribs hurt from you dropped to the floor and bruises had begun to appear on your arms. You sat down on the creaky bed. If you were trapped in here, you might as well enjoy the “comforts” of this place.
A few hours passed. It had to be the next day already. Your thoughts were with Arthur, wondering if he’d woken up from the bashing yet. And Tommy, if he knew you were being held hostage. He was smart. He’d get you out of this. Unless he’d finally had enough of your antics and disowned you. No, no. Polly, John and Ada wouldn’t let that happen. You were spiraling and tired but too paranoid to sleep. Laying back on the bed, your eyes closed as you strained to listen for any sound. Why in the ever loving fuck had you let Arthur do this? When had he ever done anything smart?
Someone knocked at the door.
“Fuck off.” You said, a conditioned response from years of your cousins barging in on you.
Mr Solomons huffed. “Yes, yes. Listen. I’m not going to shoot you-well, I might if you get on my nerves- I have actually come to the conclusion that you may be quite useful to me.”
You sat up. “What?”
Mr Solomons opened the door, and to your relief, it got stuck on the desk. “Moving my fucking desk around?”
“I doubt I’m any use to you,” you said in your bravest voice. “Tommy will be looking for me. And he will want revenge for your betrayal with Sabini.”
He jiggled the door again. It didn’t budge. “Yeah, exactly. Revenge and all that. And I know he’s fond of you- you were at his house that day- so if I have you, right, as leverage, he’ll be less likely to put a fucking bullet in my head.”
“Did you really put Arthur in prison?”
“Yes, and I’ve just gotten word that Michael...Gray, is it, he’s been locked up too. So Tommy is probably a bit busy at the moment.”
Michael? That was probably a lie. A bluff. Polly would be in shambles.
“So are you going stay in there forever or are you going to come out?” Not taunting. Curious.
“I’ll stay in here.”
“You can come out, I’m not going to fucking hurt ya-“
“I saw you shoot Billy in the fucking head! And nearly kill Arthur!” You barked and flung the nearest object you could find, an empty bottle, at the door.
He cursed and shut the door before the bottle could slam into his head. “Didn’t you listen to a fucking word I said? Tommy Shelby would really come after me then.”
“Fuck the fuck off!” Another bottle flew through the air for good measure. This time the liquid contents splattered on the papers on the desk.
“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Stay in there as long as you want then, yeah?”
Your voice wavered. “He’s gonna come for me! And you’ll be sorry when he does!”
#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders x reader#alfie solomons#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons imagine#arthur shelby#Tommy Shelby
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there's always money in the banana stand
riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business
Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.
She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.
Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.
Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”
Enter: the banana stand.
It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.
Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”
But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.
It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.
Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.
He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.
Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.
(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)
His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.
“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”
Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”
They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.
“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”
Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”
Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”
Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”
Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”
Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.
He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.
He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.
“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”
Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.
Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”
Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).
“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”
Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”
Betty grins.
I did that.
“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”
Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”
Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”
The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”
He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.
“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”
She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”
Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.
“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.
Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”
Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.
“Do you have a pencil?”
He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)
After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—
“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”
The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”
Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.
“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”
Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.
“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”
Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.
Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”
She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”
She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.
“Betty, wait.”
She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.
“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”
Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”
They shake on it.
#this is unhinged but i had to ok#I HAD TO#riverdalepromptathon#riverdale fanfiction#bughead fanfiction#riverdalepromptathonweek3
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Betrothred Ch. 1 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader
Chapter 1: Bride
Summary: After making your choice, there’s no going back from it.
Warnings: Blood, Murder, Threats, Angst
Words: 2390
Story Masterlist
A/N: This first chapter is kinda angsty but it gets better, I swear!
Today is the day.
Even though only mere hours would separate you from becoming a part of the Zoldyck family, the whole situation still felt very much surreal to you.
To be invited and welcomned on their property was one of the greatest honor of all, but to be considered a fitting consort for their eldest son was just unimaginable.
One of the butlers was harshly braiding your hair, trying to get it in a position you’d usually never wear. Another one would be working on your make-up, something you’d usually find unnecessary considering your profession.
Why would an assassin care for their physical appearance anyway? Well, all of this was probably part of some kind of tradition or ritual.
No matter how roughly they were tearing and tugging on you, trying to modify your body until you wouldn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror, you’d take their invasion of your personal space in a calm demeanour.
Because that’s how you were raised.
Obey, endure and function.
Your bloodline had a long history of both feared and powerful Head Hunters, for decaded being third place of all known assassin families - with the Zoldycks claiming the indisputable top.
Torture, poison and death were your fellow comrades throughout your whole youth, even though there were limits:
Only the most promising children would be chosen to become Head Hunters. The others were free to choose their way as they wished.
Your upbringing was strict, yet loving. And it was forbidden to break your free will. Serving the family should be an honor, not a burden.
Other than the Zoldycks, your family believed that emotions could become the surce of strenght.
There were other moral standarts: Murdering children was off limits, for example.
And your ‘carreer’ was just about to begin when it took this unexcpected turn.
You had met your soon-to-be-husband after finally completing your formal training, now allowed to take on the Hunter Exam.
Already accustomed to the basics of Nen, it was easy for you to see behind the disguise of the man calling himself Gittarackur.
At first being rather passive, even as the two of you completed the Trick Tower together, he soon stated to be impressed by your exceptional strenght and capability.
Truth be spoken, you always thought yourself to be mediocre at best. So that sudden compliment hit you off guard, especially after he casually revealed his true identity and heritage.
Immediately after the exam, you gathered all of your courage and asked Illumi to teach you in the ways of a true assassin - so you could grow and become the next leader of your clan.
And much to your surprise, he instantly accepted, not even wanting anything in return. You were useful to him and his missions, he stated. That would be enough.
After that, it wouldn’t take long until the stoic man announced that you’d make for a formidable spouse, asking your father for your hand in marriage.
Even though you weren’t quite sure if you made the right decision, his proposal alone the greatest honor for your kin and you just couldn’t disappoint them.
Illumi had always been very reserved about anything else than his work, making you doubt he was even capable of feeling anything else than the joy of killing.
Yet he was a reliable ally, both smart and strong - and admittedly very good looking. You were convinced that he wasn’t the monster most people saw in him: He had just been molded to be the perfect assassin.
And because of that, he would make for a good husband as well.
“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” The voice behind your back was Kikyo, dismissing the servants with a single gesture of her hand.
You wanted to stand up and make a curtsy as a sign of respect, yet felt her palms on your shoulder, pressing down so you’d remain in your seat.
Looking in the mirror, you saw your mother in law behind your back, her visor making it hard to read her intentions. Her aura gave it all away, though.
Illumi’s proposal surprised her just as much as yourself, and she obviously wasn’t content with it. You actually doubtet that she’d ever consider someone good enough to marry one of her children, so you didn’t take it personal.
The pressure would only help you grow.
“You’ll become the perfect partner for my son, won’t you?” Her fingernails dug deep into your flesh, but you didn’t even flinch. “Of course, honorable mother.”
“Good.” Apparently your answer didn’t calm her fury, since her fingermails only turned in the wounds they dug into your flesh. She only stopped when she realized that the blood was staining your clothes.
“I don’t expect any less from a lowlife like you are.” Seems like you should stay alerted around her. But that was no surprise, and it didn’t scare you either.
You knew what you were getting yourself into. And it was worth it.
To prove your worth, you’d go even beyond your limits.
“It’s time, Y/N.”
Up until now, you hid your emotions very well - but hearing that familiar, monotonous voice, you couldn’t help but smile.
“Illumi!” Kikyo shreeked out, “You’re not allowed to see Y/N before the ceremony!”
“Unnecessary superstition” he retorted quite unaffected, approaching both of you.
Kikyo stepped back, revealing you fully. He took in your appearance, rather observing than anything else. “Is that your blood?”
“Nothing worth mentioning.”
He grabbed your ankle, forcing you up from his seat to look at him. “How did this happen?”
You didn’t dare answering. It was not your place to drive a wedge between your fianceé and his mother, even though you highly doubtet that he would care at all.
Illumi turned around, his blank stare now directed to his mother, who defendingly put her hands into the air. “I-I was just advising-”
“No need for that” he cut her off. “I can take care of any business concerning my partner myself.”
Now she got all hysterical again, just as you got to know her. “B-but-”
“Never touch them again, or I’ll kill you.”
Kikyo relented, then having a mental breakdown for excactly 5 seconds, screams and cries filling the room.
The air had gotten incredibly thick, the unsettling atmosphere making you wish to just disappear right on spot.
“Oh, Illumi!” she exclaimed, sounding jubilant all of a sudden. “Being so cruel to your own mother...You’ve grown so much!”
What a weird fucking family.
“Show me your arms” Illumi demanded after he told his mother to be left alone, yet you flinched away.
“I apologize for having provoked an argument” you spoke all humble, “My wounds are of no concern. Don’t worry.”
“Starting today, I’m expected to take care of you. So you should obey and let me patch this up.” You sat down with a small sigh, exposing your shoulders and presenting them to him. “It would be a shame if you get scarred by something else than a honorable battle.”
Eventually you found time to appreciate your fianceé’s exterior: Illumi had his hair braided back, wearing a fully black suit with a white shirt and a bow tie.
It was the first time you ever saw him in formal wear, and it actually suited him very well.
“You’re very handsome, Lumi” you absentmindedly blurted out as you watched him bandage the wounds on your shoulder.
And Illumi would acknowledge your looks in his own way. “Your appearance is very adequate for this occasion as well.” That counts as a compliment, right?
“Glad you like it” you smiled, “But sadly the stains won’t get out. And we have no time to clean off the blood.”
Illumi swiftly helped you on your feet once again, vaguely explaining “Don’t worry. It won’t stand out after the ceremony.”
You linked arms with Illumi, who led you to the main room as you still pondered about what exactly he meant with that statement.
The celebration would be a small one, not even your own family being allowed to attend. When you entered the generously decorated hall, there were only Silva, Kikyo, Zeno, Kalluto and Milluki.
“Welcome, Y/N” Silva spoke in a way more welcoming tone than his wife earlier. You bend your head as you stood in front of the table where the family had gathered, greeting them politely before making your way to the altar.
Zeno would be the one to confirm the bond. You were actually glad that it was him, because he had already grown fond of you.
“Are you ready?” the old man wondered, noticing how you were trembling.
“Far away from it” you chuckled without doubt, adding “But I’m prepared to do anything.”
“That’s a honest but brave answer, young adult” he paised in an attempt to calm you down, then arranging both you and Illumi to stand facing each other. “And just what you need to become part of this family.”
One sign of Silva and the door swung open, a Bunch of butlers dragging in a terribly inured human.
Much to your shock, the person was not dead - not yet.
“So it begins” Illumi whispered as he saw the man wince in pain, begging for his life, and he almost cracked something like a smile.
“Wha-” Before you could even comprehend what was happening, it hit you like a brick: You were supposed to finish that person off.
That was what Illumi meant. A few blood stains on your wedding dress really were your smallest problem considering what awaited you from this day on.
“That man invaded our property with the intend to kill us” Silva explained to you, his stare bringing across his demands. “You’ll prove your loyality through ending his life.”
At that moment, you knew that you’ll disappoint them - because you were frozen in place.
You had taken and destroyed so many lives, yet always had the full information on them and could decide through your own standarts. But now?
What if it was a lie? You didn’t know that man, why he was here or if he deserved death.
Maybe he had family or came for revenge. Goddamn it, he could even be a reporter who just sneaked in to snatch a photo! Or they had presented you a completely innocent man, seeing if you were the undoubting slave they wanted to have!
Madness runs in this family, apparently.
It was a test. You knew that much. Quite fitting for someone from a family which was only rank three, known for their rather humane way of working.
“No Nen allowed” Kikyo completed the task, “No guns or similar either. You may only use your bare hands or close combat weapons.”
Yes. It was way harder, imprinting your soul to kill that direct way. How you’d deal with the situation was crucial for the outcome of this wedding.
But were you really ready to throw all of your morality abroad just for your own sake?
“We won’t kill you if you decline the order” Illumi cut off your brooding. Was it out of sympathy? You had no idea. “You’ll be considered unfitting, but you are free to leave and no one will ever bother you again.”
“N-No” you stumbled across your own words, “I’ll do everything for the family.”
“Interesting” Zeno stated. “I never doubtet your spouse, Illumi, but I thought they'd take longer to decide.”
"I think Y/N will make for a great companion.” Silva’s wide grin streched across his face, making his eyes wrinkle a bit. “In both family and business.”
When all was said and done, Illumi grabbed a knive that was placed on the altar. “Let’s do it together, then.”
You almost felt guilty that you became flustered in a moment like this, but couldn’t help it as Illumi genuinely smiled at you, taking your hand as you took firm steps towards the enemy.
“P-Please have mercy!” the man pleaded to no avail, and determination swelled in your chest at that intense moment.
Taking someone’s life together - it would connect two people in a cruel yet beautiful way.
Whatever else could be more fitting for the marriage of two assassins?
It would be an easy kill. He was unable to flee or fight back. Just a single strike, ending his life quick as act of mercy.
“You should’ve known better than to mess with my new family.”
Both of your hands intertwined, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the knive before thrusting it into the victim’s chest.
And then it dawned to you.
“A needleman?” you sulked, ripping out one of Illumi’s needles out of the stranger’s head, while the others broke out in boisterous laughter.
“Yeah. He was already dead” Illumi shrugged. “I know you don’t like burdening yourself with victims you didn’t choose yourself. But we needed to test you anyway. It’s a tradition.”
Was he actually respecting your boundaries?! What the-
“I like your guts!” Silva attempted to pat your back, but it felt rather like he was going to break your spine. “Sorry for our harsh methods. I know it can be a bit much at the beginning. You’ll get used to obey our rules slowly, don’t push yourself.
Even Kikyo embraced you, now almost convincing motherly. “Reminds me of my first kill for the family!”
It almost felt like those people could actually feel compassion for others. They at least had undoubtingly strong bonds with each other, even if their way of living together was rather unusual.
Stiff movements as always, Illumi placed his hand on your head, almost as if a robot was trying to mimick human interaction. “I’m proud of you. I knew I chose well.”
The rest of the ceremony was just as you expected it: No vows, no rings, no music, no kiss. Just you and Illumi hearing to whatever Zeno had to say about bringing honor and wealth to the family, bearing strong offsprings, and other things that were the exact opposite from romantic.
“Blood for blood” Zeno stated now instead of “You may now kiss”, and every family member repeated it.
You took the knife from the altar once again, cutting your palm until it drew blood without any hesitation. Illumi would now do the same, then reaching out his hand for yours to hold.
As your fluids mixed before dropping to the floor, you unsucessfully searched for any hint of emotional reaction in your husbands expressionless face.
His eyes however would never leave yours, his hand firmly squeezing yours before Zeno announced:
“Your fates are now inextricably connected.”
____
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#Illumi Zoldyck x Reader#Illumi x Reader#HxH#Illumi Zoldyck#Zoldyck#Arranged Marriage AU#Writing#Self Insert
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The Arrangement Chapter 11
Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.
Chapter Summary: You and Yoongi each share a little of your fucked up pasts
Previous chapter here
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The two of you entered the studio. Yoongi headed for the desk chair. "You can take the couch."
You gave him a bottle of water and pulled the gimbap out of your purse, handing one to him.
"Thanks. Now do you see why I don't go to those meetings?" He began to tear the wrapping off the gimbap.
"Yep. That was brutal. They literally just read off of the PowerPoint slides." You took a bite of your food.
Yoongi scrolled through his phone. "We should go shopping tonight. The stores will be packed tomorrow and Sunday."
"I don't mind. I can just go tomorrow or something."
He looked over at you. "I don't do crowds. Let's go tonight."
You sighed, it was clear you weren't winning this argument. "Sounds good. What time will you get done with work today?" You asked, glad some of the negativity was fading from him.
"I need to do some producing. But I'll try to take a break at 7 and then we can go shopping."
You almost died a little at how normal and domestic this all sounded. A small part of you wanted your life to be so different from the fucked up life you had experienced as a child. This could be your life. This could be it. It's fake. I don't care.
"OK sounds good." you finished up your sandwich. "I'm off to continue answering questions that people could easily look up online."
"Better you than me," he said.
You stuck your hand out for the sandwich wrapper and sighed. "Yep. It’s definitely not work befitting Min Suga genius." You teased as you exited the studio.
Yoongi smiled and turned around to face his computer. What the fuck was happening? Two days in and he had already bought you towels and was getting ready to go grocery shopping with you. Might as well skip to the wedding at this point, he thought jokingly. At least then someone else would have bought the towels for you.
---------------
Yoongi picked at his cuticles, his alarm was set to go off in a few minutes. He had done some mixing, but for the most part he ended up writing. He had been very inspired lately for lyrics. Usually it was the beats that came more easily to him and he had to seek out experiences for his lyrics. But lately he had so many feelings and experiences just itching to come out.
He was worried after that night at the bar that you would distract him from his job but so far he had found the opposite to be true. He was thinking about you less because he knew you were in the office or the apartment. He wasn’t wondering what you were doing all the time. Not that he cared. Not that he had thought about you all the time. And it was nice to have someone answer emails and calls, and deliver coffee.
He turned his alarm off preemptively and stood up. He exited the studio. There was no one left on the 14th floor. That wasn’t unusual. He stopped by your desk. It was totally empty. He frowned. How could a person the same age as him have only 2 bags of belongings he wondered. He took out his phone.
YG: What’s going on with Ms. [YLN] work laptop? I see it hasn’t arrived yet. She needs it immediately to help coordinate my collaborations. Additionally, she needs appropriate stationary.
JW: Of course Mr. Min. I will follow up with the IT department immediately and let you know. As for the office supplies I can provide her with some basic stationary immediately. If you require personalized stationary the lead time on orders is 2 weeks. I can send a link to have you/her look over it.
YG: Thank you Jiwoo. Please do that.
Satisfied with himself, he put his phone back in his pocket and headed over to the elevator. He got in. A girl he recognized as Alice, Jin’s main stylist was already on. She had a make-up train case with her and seemed irritated. He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and noticed the button for the 18th floor was already pushed.
They both awkwardly stood in silence for the short ride.
The elevator arrived at the 18th floor. Yoongi gestured to her to exit first. She did and headed down the other way towards Jin’s apartment. He must have some event tonight Yoongi thought as he went the other direction to his apartment. He walked in, just realizing he hadn’t been home since yesterday morning. He sighed. It wasn’t unusual for him to spend days at a time in the studio. The first thing he noticed was that his apartment smelled like coffee and girl. It wasn’t a bad thing. It was just different.
He continued into the living room and looked around. There was a light on in the kitchen and a half-empty pot of coffee. He could see a light peeking out from under your bedroom door. He took out his phone.
YG: I’m home. I’m going to grab a shower first and then we can go. You don’t have to stay holed up in the bedroom.
He walked upstairs, put his phone on the charger, and showered.
You woke up from your nap right at 6:58. Yoongi hadn’t struck you as the type to ever get home from work early so you hadn’t worried about being ready right at 7. You checked your messages and saw where he had texted you as well as Jimin. You pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt and headed out to the living room.
JM: 2 pm. Meet me in the lobby of the 6th floor. Bring a tank top and leggings so you can try on clothes over them. Also I HATE YOU WE WERE THERE UNTIL 5 OMFG
YN: Sorry sorry XD I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again!
Yoongi emerged a few minutes later wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt and looking like a damn snack. “Hey.” He walked over to the kitchen and opened the cabinets to check the ingredients. He looked back over his shoulder, “Seriously, I meant what I texted, Make yourself at home. I'm never here anyways."
You moved over to the barstool. "Thanks. I'm just so used to sharing small spaces with lots of people I don't really take up a lot of space. The coffee is fresh by the way. I had a cup before napping just now."
Yoongi didn't really respond, opening up the refrigerator. The two of you were surprised to suddenly hear yelling and screaming in the hallway.
"What the hell? "Yoongi asked, shutting the fridge and walking over to the front door. “Not again," he muttered under his breath. It sounded like a woman yelling. The blood in your veins ran ice cold, your tongue slowly turned to lead. You heard the front door open and felt dizzy. Suddenly you were in an apartment with Suho and there was screaming. You took a deep breath. No. No. That was years ago. You were in Seoul. You were safe. There were guards here and Yoongi was here. Yoongi? You shook your head, looking around. You started to panic again.
The woman had stopped screaming. You heard the voices of two men and slowly staggered out towards the hallway.
"What the fuck Jin?" you heard Yoongi yell.
"I know. I know. She's just difficult."
"Your girlfriend is a fucking asshole." You heard a girl yell. You recognized her as Alice. She was pulling her make up case down the hallway and crying hard.
"Alice I'm sorry. You know Lin is a little crazy. She didn't mean any of the stuff she said." Jin pleaded with her.
Alice was sobbing as she pushed the elevator button. "Tell yourself that, jin."
You didn't want to stare. You felt wrong watching all of this happen but you were also numb at this point, almost experiencing it as though you were outside your body.
Yoongi breathed in sharply. "Just go home Jin. But this is the second time this week. She needs some anger management classes or something." Yoongi looked over and saw you standing there, peeking around the corner.
"Enjoying the show?" He said irritated.
You snapped back to reality and shook your head. You weren't nosy. You had been scared and didn't want to be in the apartment alone. Yoongi got on the elevator with Alice, leaving you and Jin in the hallway.
" Goddammit," you heard Jin say as he walked back to his apartment.
You stood there for a minute replaying everything that had just happened. You took a few deep breaths. Suho wasn't here. You were fine. Yoongi was fine. Apparently Jin had a crazy girlfriend. Alice was Jin's stylist. And Yoongi thought you were a nosey asshole. Great.
You didn't feel like you could go back to the apartment right now so you decided to head out for a walk.
-----------
"You don't have to come with me. You don't even know me." Alice sniffed. "I know how to ride an elevator."
Yoongi shrugged. "Your name is Alice. You've been around for 3 years but became Jin's main stylist a year ago. You are hopelessly in love with him and his new girlfriend suspects. Tell me I'm wrong."
Alice sniffled, her silence acting as confirmation. Yoongi observed so much, quietly watching his coworkers over the years. “This is embarrassing.” She sniffled.
" You should file a complaint with the HR department. She can't just scream at staff members."
"I'm just a stylist."
"Well I'll be filing a complaint. Her loud yelling is fucking annoying." Yoongi put his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels.
Alice laughed a little at that. "Yeah. She's fucking mean. They've actually been dating on and off for years. She yells at Jin too and he always just takes it. That's why she screamed at me tonight. She called him a worthless idiot for like the 500th time and I finally just snapped and told her to shut up."
Yoongi pressed his lips together. He never would have imagined that Jin was being verbally abused. He suddenly felt bad he had been so short with him a few minutes ago.
The elevator arrived at the 7th floor where several of the girl's dormitories were. "Rest up. She's a bitch." Yoongi said to Alice as she got ready to exit.
"Yeah, thanks. Sorry I've never really talked to you before."
Yoongi shrugged . "It's fine." He pushed the door close button and back to the 18th floor. He had been so surprised to see you standing there. He didn't think you'd be interested in gossip, you had seemed so mature.
He walked back into the apartment. "Y/N I'm back. Are you ready to go to the store?"
Silence.
He sent a message to your phone and heard it ping from the countertop.
Shit.
--------------
Yoongi walked outside. It was a little cold out. He tried to tell himself he wasn't chasing after you or looking for you. He was just out stretching his legs. If he happened to run into you, fine. But if not, fine. He reasoned that without your phone or wallet, you had to be nearby. He had left a note for you in the apartment just in case you got back before he did.
Y/N,
Hey. Sorry for all the loud drama. Jin's gf sucks. Text me. You still owe me jjigae.
He walked through one of the little parks that stood between the skyscrapers and the river. He figured he would do a short lap and then head back. He hated the cold, he thought again as he rubbed his hands together.
"Yoongi?" he heard a voice. He looked over at the swingset and saw you sitting there.
"Hey," he walked over. "You left."
"Sorry, I needed some fresh air." You responded as you watched your breath form in the air.
Yoongi took a seat on the swing next to you. "Yeah. Sorry about that. Jin's girlfriend is apparently awful."
"Yeah. Poor Alice. I met her the other day, she seemed so sweet."
“How do you already know so many people?” Yoongi wondered aloud. He had been there for years and barely knew anybody.
You shrugged, “I guess bartending made me good at talking to people.”
“How did you get into it?”
“Bartending? Well I wanted a job where I could work nights so I could also have a day job. And the money was really good.”
“That's always your main job criteria?” Yoongi said flippantly.
Rude. “That's a little mean but yea. I'm the main adult who has to support my two siblings and I've had to since I was 20 years old. I had to drop out of college so there's not many options. I haven’t had the luxury of choosing jobs that I might actually be interested in.”
Yoongi felt like such a shithead. “Sorry. That was a dick thing of me to say. You’re right, it would be nice if you could have the ability to do a job because you like it. Not because of the money.”
“It's OK. I'm just sensitive about it.” You looked off in the distance at the river.
“You should be proud. When I was 20 I wasn’t able to even support myself, let alone take care of anybody else.”
You shrugged. “I’m sure you could have if you had to.”
“No. I’m telling you. When I was 20 I was on my own. And I was homeless because I couldn’t support myself. So the fact that you actually made it work while taking care of people is pretty amazing.”
“Thanks. And wow. I had no idea. That sucks. I’m glad you’re not homeless anymore.” You looked over at him. You never would have guessed. You just assumed he had always been well off.
“Right? That would suck.” Yoongi agreed, glad you weren’t turning his trauma into a big deal. “Yeah, I got discovered by a talent scout and BigHit brought me to Seoul and set me up in one of the dorms here.”
“Wow. I got discovered by some rich asshole with dimples in a bar, who I thought was running a sex-trafficking ring.” You joked. Yoongi laughed, while gently swinging.
"While we’re sharing our tragic backstories, that's actually one of the reasons I came out there." You began. You figured if Yoongi was willing to share some of his fucked-up ness you could do the same. "In the hallway. I didn't want to be alone. People yelling and screaming puts me on edge. I wasn’t trying to be nosy" you thought about how to best phrase what you wanted to say next. "I was raised in an environment where that happened a lot. Yelling. Screaming. And things got very violent, very quickly, in our house."
Yoongi sat next to you on the swings listening intently to your confession. He never would have guessed that about you. You seemed so well-adjusted." I'm sorry that you grew up in a place like that." He said, carefully studying your face." And I'm sorry that Jin's girlfriend caused you to be uncomfortable. I had no idea or I wouldn't have said anything to you about being in the hallway"
"it's OK. Well, I mean, it's not ok what happened to me, but it's over now. Thanks." you looked over at him. He was blowing on his hands. "Are you cold?"
"Yes, it’s freezing out here"
You scoffed, “It's a little cold. Here," you stood up and put your hands around his before he could object.
"How are you so hot?” He asked, enjoying the furnace of your hands.
“You know I look in the mirror every day and ask myself the same question.” You replied with a straight face. Yoongi wrinkled his nose causing you to laugh. “Come on. I don’t want to get fired for letting you freeze to death.” You pulled on his hands to get him off the swing. “Do you still want to go shopping?”
“Yep. I have the list in my phone. Since we’re already out let’s walk to the real grocery store. The BigHit store has an ok amount of things, but not as much as an outside store.”
“Ok, I need to go back and grab my wallet.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But I--”
“You’ve seen my apartment. Don’t argue with me.” He started to walk back towards the city center.
You sighed. Yes. He was super rich and you weren’t. “Fine. But I am doing this under protest.”
“Your protest is noted, come along, assistant. I’ll let you carry the bags.”
NEXT CHAPTER
@lidda @anpanman-sonyeondan @firefairy1 @cuteipat @sugaslittlekookies @janeelizabeth1216 @deeepvibes @gxldenhunny
#bts fic#bts scenarios#suga x you#yoongi x you#yoongi scenarios#bts yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#bts suga x you#suga x y/n#yoongi imagine#bts writing#suga bts#bts yoongi#bts au fanfic#bts fanfic
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Kashmir
Chapter One, Part One: Kashmir (The Trick is to Keep Breathing)
Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music, beta-ed by @lady-jane-revisited
I had fallen asleep listening to KIashmir as I fell asleep. It was all I could think about after that strange woman had told me that I would find myself in a distant place, that I would hold the fate of three hearts in my hands. I tried not to think about it much, but as the day grew later, that was proving more and more difficult, until I finally fell asleep.
I had no idea how right that woman was and I wondered if she was psychic.
I woke in an alley, laying flat on my back and I felt like I wanted to scream. I didn’t know why it even fazed me anymore. Three, three times now… Did the universe hate me that much? Who was I going to meet that I would get my heart broken over this time? Who knows, maybe I wouldn’t this time, but I was not holding my breath. In both previous times I had found myself in a different universe than my own, that was exactly what had happened. I fell in love and just as I was ready to accept that I wasn’t going anywhere, the universe had other plans.
I picked myself up from the ground and found I wasn’t far from the mouth of the alley. Dusting myself off, I sighed as I noticed my already threadbare Zeppelin shirt now had a couple of tears in it, I headed out of the alley. I wasn’t paying as much attention to my surroundings as I should have been, trying to just keep my head down and find a place to stay and worry about everything else in the morning. But I ran into someone as I rounded the corner. I quickly apologized, but the person had my arms in a gentle hold.
“Are you alright, love?”
The familiar-ish English accent made me look up. Holy crap! Jimmy fucking Page! He chuckled at me, letting go of my arms.
“While it’s good to be recognized, I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
“Dear God, I said that out loud… sorry. I’m Anjelika,” I replied, my heart starting to slow down.
He chuckled again, smiling at me. “It’s quite alright, love. Come to the studio with me, at least get you a new shirt.” He tilted his head as he took a better look at the shirt I was wearing. “I see you’re a fan, but I don’t recognize this design.”
Shit! “I, uh...made it myself. One of my many talents.”
“Ah. Well, shall we?” He asked, gesturing to a building a little further down the street. I nodded and we walked together in silence, feeling Jimmy’s eyes on me now and then, until we reached the building. He opened the door for me and followed me in. “Straight down the hall and the first door on the left will take you to G’s office. You can wait there while I find you a clean shirt.”
“G?” I asked half distractedly. I was busy taking in my surroundings in awe when I heard Jimmy chuckle. “What?”
“Nothing,” he chuckled again. “G is our manager, Peter Grant. He looks intimidating, and I admit, he can be when needed. But for the most part, he’s just a giant teddy bear.”
“Alright. I’ll see you there, yeah?”
“Yes. G might already be in his office, I’ll go with you to make an introduction. The rest of the band should be showing up soon as well.”
I nodded and headed down the hall to the first door on the left, as instructed. As I entered, sure enough there was a large man sitting at the desk in the middle of the room. The man I assumed was “G” looked up at me with a confused expression until Jimmy came in behind me.
“Jimmy! You’re early and I see you’ve brought a guest. Welcome, miss!”
“Please, call me Anjelika.”
“Morning, G! I came across this poor girl about a block away. Offered to get her a clean shirt at the least. I’m going to go find one, figured she’d be safe with you. Just keep Robert away from her.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible, but I can try.”
After that exchange, Jimmy left to find a clean shirt as promised. I started to look around the office, a bit fascinated by all the gold records. As I look around, Peter silently takes stock of me. The man towers over me, though I’m of average height.
“Anjelika?” He called to me, getting my attention. I turned to face the large man again, humming in acknowledgement.
“Forgive me saying, but you look like a sturdy woman. If you’re interested, we have an opening for a roadie. Specifically, someone who knows their guitars.”
“Well, I’m far from an expert, but my dad taught me quite a bit growing up. I know how to tune and play acoustic, electric and bass guitars. As for my interest, how about an enthusiastic hell yes!?” I wouldn’t mention that it was basically a lifelong dream, plus, this took care of how I was going to live while here.
Peter’s face lit up with a bright smile and stuck his hand out to me. “Welcome to the crazy life we call Rock n’ Roll!”
I laughed and took Peter’s hand to shake it, but before I could respond, another voice came from the doorway. “Did I hear right? You found the last roadie we need?” The accent was light and soft even in excitement. It was that and the feeling of another of my kind present that made me turn toward the door. There stood Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham, a.k.a. Bonzo, who seemed to be eyeing me. Robert was as well, but their expressions were quite different. Bonzo was curious, if a little cautious, Robert had a clear interest in me, like a lion sizing up its prey.
I smiled to myself as I observed each of them. Bonzo’s cautiousness was a little surprising, but everything else about them was everything I had heard.
“Yes,” Peter replied. “Jimmy brought her in, but yes, I asked her if she would be interested in the job and she accepted. Anjelika, meet Robert Plant, John Paul Jones and John Bonham. Boys, meet Anjelika.”
John Paul was the first to step forward. “I trust Peter’s judgment, but have you ever played guitar before?”
“I have, granted, it’s been a few years, but I think I remember a thing or two.” I responded with confidence.
“Don’t worry Jonesy,” Peter said. “I’m sure Jimmy will want to test her skills.”
“Who’s skills will I want to test?” Jimmy asked as he came back with a clean shirt, walking in and handing said shirt to me.
I took the shirt, my cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Mine, apparently. Mr. Grant offered me a job.”
“Well then, what are we waiting for? There’s a party tonight and the American leg of the tour starts tomorrow.” He announces and starts back out the door.
“Tomorrow?! That’s cutting it a bit close, don’t you think?”
Robert approached now, taking my hands in his. “Sometimes that’s just how it works out. If you need anything let us know, for now, we should join Jimmy in the studio.”
I nodded , slowly pulling my hands out of Robert’s and followed Jimmy until we reached a recording room. “Alright, let’s see what you can do, love.”
Without a word, I picked up the acoustic guitar and tuned it with ease, then I did the same with the two electric guitars. Finally, I turned to the bass guitar and tuned it, but I didn’t stop there. Something in me needed to sing too, to show them all of the talent I had to offer. Even if the song wasn’t my own. I stood up, pulled the guitar strap over my head, and stepped in front of the microphone.
I began a strong bass line and then, feeling a combination of nervousness and excitement , I began to sing.
“She’s not the kind of girl
Who likes to tell the world
About the way she feels about herself.
She takes a little time
In making up her mind
She doesn’t want to fight against the tide.
Lately, I’m not the only one
I say never trust anyone
Always the one who has to drag her down
Maybe you’ll get what you want this time around.
Can’t bare to face the truth
So sick you can not move
And when it hurts
He takes it out on you.
Lately, I’m not the only one
I say never trust anyone
Always the one who has to drag her down
Maybe you’ll get what you want this time around.
The trick is to Keep Breathing.”
I was about to continue when I saw five shocked faces looking back at me. Jimmy seemed to recover faster than the rest, Robert soon after. “Oh, we’re keeping her,” The singer announced.
Jimmy shook his head at his friend. “She’s not a pet, Rob. But yes, I think she’ll do nicely for the job.” He turned his attention once more to me. “Congratulations, you’re hired!”
I couldn’t help myself as I did a little dance before setting the bass back in its place and rejoined the others. In my joy, I ran up and hugged Jimmy and then Peter. “Thank you! But, if you all don’t mind, I’d really like to change my shirt now.”
“I’ll show you to the bathrooms.” It was Bonzo who spoke now, holding out his arm like a gentleman for me to take.
As we walked down the hallway, my eyes wandered at the sight before me. The studio environment was unlike what I had ever seen, the space was brimming with creativity as the sounds of instruments filled my ears. I could have only imagined what sorts of sounds would materialize here within these walls.
My attention was brought back when Bonzo spoke to me, “‘Ere you are Anjelika, love. I’ll wait for you out here since the studio is a bit big and well it’s your first day.”
“Thank you,” I said with a smile.
I looked at myself in the mirror after replacing my shirt. The material fit snugly against my torso and the design was so colorful with the band’s logo printed in bold letters that practically jumped off of the garment. Aside from admiring the clothing, I couldn’t help but stare at the woman looking back at me with a sense of wonderment and confusion. A new life was about to begin for me: accomodations taken care of, decent pay, and an opportunity to work alongside one of the biggest, if not the biggest, bands in the world right now. I felt happy and yet, something was lingering inside of me. Doubt? Worry? I was jolted from my thought process by the sound of hard knocking.
Bonzo’s voice was muffled, “Everything alright?”
“Coming,” I answered back.
Jonesy was fiddling with a mandolin when we returned to the recording space. Long fingers turning the tuning keys as his other hand made use of the strings. Jimmy was beside Grant going over the business aspect of the tour and Robert was occupied with his novel.
Bonzo leaned over the lanky singer, “How goes the little fellowship Percy? Are they about to fight a dragon again?”
Robert’s eyebrows quirked from over the pages, “Wrong book there Bonzo, this is the one where they venture out to destroy the One Ring. That is until everything goes wrong for the group-”
Jonesy butted in with a chuckle, “What is this, the tenth time you read the book this week?”
“Sod off,” Robert replied, “Just because you don’t find it interesting, doesn’t mean it’s a bad story.”
I glanced over and saw that he was reading The Fellowship of the Ring by Tolkien, a favorite of his judging by the tone in his voice, “What part are you on now? Have they just left Rivendell?”
Robert’s eyes lit up as he put his book down for a moment, “Yes, they have actually. You’ve read Fellowship?”
I smiled, “All of them, including The Hobbit.”
“Looks like you’ll have someone to talk nerd with you Percy,” Bonzo chortled as he grabbed his drumsticks.
Grant cleared his throat, “Alright settle down everyone, come on you lot have more to record. Bonzo get in there.”
Like an excited schoolboy, the man rushed in and made himself comfortable at the drum kit. Lightning fast reflexes created the thunderous booming of his instrument. I thought the glass was going to shatter from the sheer force of his playing alone. To hear him through headphones was one thing, but to actually see the man at work was something else entirely. He was like a beast letting out everything within himself, the raw power echoing from the percussion instruments. He was swift in his ability to move from one part of his set to the next, his fists holding on tightly to his drum sticks as he went from cymbal to snare to Tom. His footwork on pedals was quick as his entire body followed a musical rhythm.
As the boys began to record their song, Peter approached me once again, sitting in the chair beside me. “You know, what Percy said earlier…if you need anything, just ask. I know this was a bit sprung on you.”
I smiled a little and nodded. “Literally everything I own right now, I’m wearing. And technically, the shirt is borrowed.”
“Nah, you keep it. We can provide you with some shirts that were made for the tour. They’re for the roadies. As for anything else you might need, I can give you a small advance on your pay.”
“I…don’t know what to say. Thank you!”
He patted my hand and stood up. “It’s no problem at all, love. Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He left the room and I turned my attention to the boys. I recognized the song and couldn’t help but sing along from my side of the room.
“It is the springtime of my loving
The second season I am to know
You are the sunlight in my growing
So little warmth I've felt before
It isn't hard to feel me glowing
I watched the fire that grew so low, oh
It is the summer of my smiles
Flee from me, keepers of the gloom
Speak to me only with your eyes
It is to you, I give this tune
Ain't so hard to recognize, oh
These things are clear to all from time to time, ooh”
I had to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. I did not need Robert, or any of them really, to see me cry. Peter returned shortly after and handed me $100. I was in a bit of a shock, to say the least. “This is too much,” I said.
“Nonsense. Get yourself what you need, maybe a couple of dresses for after-parties. Anything left, consider it to be spending money.”
“Thank you, again, Mr. Grant.”
“Please, call me Peter. Or G, if you prefer.”
“Alright,” I smiled up at him, “thank you, G.”
The boys finished up the song and Peter stopped the recording. “I think you boys got it this time.”
“What did you think of it, Anjelika?” Robert asked, sounding a little shy.
“You all did wonderfully, it’s beautiful.”
Robert beamed like a ray of sunshine and the others seemed to approve of my opinion as well. Setting their instruments down and joined Peter and I on the other side of the studio.
“The party starts in a couple of hours, love. You should probably get your shopping done, there won’t be time for it tomorrow. I’m sure one of the boys will be happy to go with you, New York is a large city.”
“A guide seems like a good idea, especially since this is my first time in New York.” I turned to the boys only to see four sets of eyes looking imploringly at me. It seemed they all wanted to get out for a little while. I chuckled and shook my head. “You all look like lost puppies. Come on, let’s go. Robert, you can be my fashion consultant.”
Jonesy laughed. “You’ll regret that.”
“At least she didn’t give the job to Jimmy,” Bonzo laughed back.
Jonesy raised his hands up, “Fair point.”
“Oi!”
* * *
The city of New York was truly the picturesque place of all that was new and grand, while simultaneously being the same location that would change its image once the sun began to set. While not exactly a local and there was still a fair amount of daylight left, Robert insisted that I should stay close to him
“It’s a short walk from here, come on.”
“Robert, I think I’ll be okay. Besides, we'll go in and find a couple of dresses, some jeans and such. Shouldn’t be that hard,” I noted.
Sure enough, we made it to the boutique in no time. The place had all manner of outfits that were either displayed on their mannequins or hung from the racks. A number of the garments seemed to appeal more to the current generation with its float patterns, striped pants, button up blouses and skirts, big collared shirts, sweater vests, and corduroy suits. The shoes were something to marvel at as well. Robert had a big smile across his face and was about head to the nearest rack, that is until I cleared my throat.
“Right, dresses, sorry love.”
I raised a brow with a smirk, “It’s fine, I just have no clue where to start… Excuse me, ma’am?”
An employee turned my way, “Yes, how may I help you?”
“Could you help me find a couple of dresses for a party tonight?”
She answered with a smile, “Yeah, follow me to get your measurements first.”
She had me stand before a mirror, using her measuring tape to get my exact numbers. I noticed Robert’s eyes in the reflection examining me as she wrapped the tape around my bust. He bit down in his lip and tried his best to hide his smirk as I scowled at him. After the measuring was finished, she brought over a small collection of dresses and led me to the changing room.
She moved the curtain aside, “Just leave whatever you like inside the room and let me know if you need anything else.”
“I also need some work clothes. Jeans, mostly, under-things…and work boots.”
After thanking her, I made sure to keep the curtain closed up keeping my eyes out in case I see those ocean blue eyes peering at me. Everything looked really lovely, yet my perception changed the moment each time the outfits were on me. Everything seemed in place and the colors were beautiful, but nothing looked right to me. Even when I lifted my hair up in a makeshift ponytail and turned around, it hardly made a difference.
Robert cleared his throat, “Anjelika, how are you doin’ in there?”
“Um, well…”
“Come on, let me see you. I haven’t seen you in any of the dresses yet since we got here,” Robert mentioned.
“I don’t know, I don’t think… maybe…”
“Please, come out,” he begged.
I stepped out wearing a thin strapped red dress, the flowing skirt piece reached down to my knees and was cut asymmetric.
Robert eyed my look, “You look beautiful in red.”
“You think so? Thank you. What else should I get?”
Robert walked over and examined the other ones, holding up each one by the hanger’s metal hook. Positioning them in a way so that he could see what they looked like on me. He handed over the orange dress that was a bit longer and had a low v-neck cut. I was skeptical to wear it again, but tried it on once more and showed him.
The boutique employee returned with a small pile of jeans, a pack of underwear and a few bras, handing them over to me. “What’s your shoe size, dear?”
“9 ½ to 10, depending on the shoe.”
The woman nodded and left again to find shoes for me. I went back into the dressing room to try on the jeans and found they actually fit. As I came out once more, I found Robert had followed the woman to the shoe section. So I sat with my items until they returned. I tried on the work boots first, finding that the 10’s fit better. Robert had apparently picked out a pair of heels to go with the dresses. In that case, it was the 9 ½ that fit.
When we got to the register, the woman had also managed to fish up some makeup and jewelry to go with the dresses as well.
@salixfragilis @brownskinsugarplum76 @firethatgrewsolow @lady-jane-revisited @princesspagey @tremble-and-shake @tangerine-page @m-faithfull @jimmys-zeppelin @timetraveller4 @callmethehunter @tophats-n-lespauls please let me know if I missed anyone or if you would like to be added.
#led zeppelin fanfics#robert plant fanfiction#roger daltrey fanfiction#the who fanfiction#robert plant x reader x roger daltrey#alice cooper fanfic#no smut#yet#fem!roger daltrey
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Heatwave Drabble #5: for the birthday boy (M)
[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles]
Pairing: Taehyung x reader
Summary: For Taehyung’s birthday, you’ve planned a special surprise-filled evening just for him as his best friend by day, fuck buddy by night. But especially after a few drinks, he finds it difficult keeping his hands off you, which isn’t a good thing in front of all your friends.
Genre: drabble, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l
Warnings: teacher/student roleplay (if you’re not into that, just skip to the next scene, it’s meant to be slightly sarcastic anyway), brief lap dance, oral (m&f), overstimulation (m&f), unprotected sex (your girl finally invested in the pill yay), cum dumpster, facial, cum play and consumption, squirting, basically filth, light BDSM like spanking, handcuffs, choking, the usual, daddy kink (you know HW!Tae)
Word count: 11.3k yikes
A/N: Happy early birthday to the best boy! Why do I call these drabbles when it’s basically a series at this point smh -_- Enjoy this filthy monster~
.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
Taehyung jumps beside you as you switch on the lights to your flat, illuminating the room full of people leap out from their hiding place at his arrival. The last syllable of their celebratory chant hangs in the air for an awkward moment as he takes in everything you put together for his birthday surprise.
Shiny party streamers decorating the walls, black and gold balloons bobbing against the ceiling, printed photos of your best memories together hanging from shelf to shelf, all his and your closest friends gathered to greet him. And of course, the impeccable two-layered strawberry chocolate sponge cake sitting on a platter that you know would excite him the most.
A smile spreads his mouth wide and square as he turns to you, his cheeks bundling up like rising bread in sheer elation.
“No you didn’t, Y/N.”
Then you’re being suffocated in a bone-crushing hug, your ribs almost cracking under his snake-like squeeze. His chest rumbles in the most boyish giggle.
“Hap-pee-burf-day-” You manage to utter as you move your arms between two to create some space for you to breathe.
Seeing Taehyung this happy, especially knowing you’re the cause of it, is truly a feeling matched by no other. You don’t have a massive squadron of friends, you are more the type to carefully select those you actually like and get along with. To put it badly, you’re picky, judgy and quite a bitch when it comes to making friends. But the few you actually care about, you love ferociously and passionately, willing to cut off your own limb for them. And Taehyung is at the top of that list.
“You’re actually the best, I love you.” When he finally lets you go from his painful but appreciated embrace, his hands rest on your waist, lingering.
You had just treated him to a birthday dinner at his favourite steakhouse, roommate to roommate, in order to enable this surprise party. A few pints might have been downed for the occasion, which explains his excessive touching. Taehyung has never been able to hold his liquor, always a lightweight. The number of times you’ve had to half-carry half-drag him out of a club and stick your fingers down his throat in a dark alley is truly embarrassing for him.
“I am the best. You’re lucky I love you too, dork.” With his nostrils flaring from excitement, you can’t help but pinch his nose before turning to the guests and properly starting the party.
To be honest, you wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without the help of anyone else. His parents have come to town to visit him during the day, so off he went to show them around the food market, the park and his favourite vintage stores. Which gave you plenty of time to set up the house, prepare the refreshments, and buy the birthday cake. But keeping him from returning home was a feat that you had to enlist his parents’ aid in, and ever the obedient son, Taehyung of course did not argue when his folks disagreed with his suggestion to go back to the apartment. Then, it was a matter of taking him to dinner, deftly urging him to meet you there rather than going together from the flat so not to miss your reservation. The rounds of alcohol and your tiny bladder slyly masked the many bathroom runs you took in order to text Lotta to gather everyone to your place. And when everything was set, you headed back with the clueless Taehyung, giddy with a belly full of Michelin star food.
It was purely out of your headstrong resistance that you two didn’t stumble into the apartment making out, exposing your on-going debauchery to all your unaware friends. He had begun to feel you up on the way home, grabbing your ass one too many times for it to be merely playful. Honestly, it’s never easy rejecting his advances, not with your nymphomaniac track record anyway. But tonight was especially difficult, knowing what you have planned for him after the party…
From the corner of your eye you see Taehyung chattering away with friends from his class, and from the way he’s waving his hands around, you can tell it’s about the latest Christmas horror story of the two of you trying to stuff a turkey.
The memory of you yelling at each other to grab-this-grab-that warms your chest more than the white wine you’re sipping on. It’s always these stupid anecdotes that mean the most.
“Looks like he’s enjoying himself.”
Lotta’s voice startles you from your thoughts. Hands held behind her shyly, she smiles at the sight of the outburst of laughter from the guests at his story.
Aside from Taehyung, you would say she’s your best friend, having gone to the same highschool together and now the same university. You knew you would be close the moment she told you her star sign - there isn’t a more iconic duo than an Aries and a Leo. She puts up with a lot of your shit but also isn’t afraid to scream some sense into you whenever you pull something rogue, which you guess is very often.
“Yep. He should probably stop drinking though.” You say as you watch him tip the contents of his glass down his throat. “I swear to god if he throws up on the couch, I’ll chop his dick off.” Of course you wouldn’t, how could you ever bring yourself to hurt that godsent meatstick that fuck tears out of you? You both giggle nonetheless.
“You’re funny with him.” Lotta is wearing a smug expression that you distinctly dislike.
“What do you mean?”
“You act like he’s some annoying brother who you hate, but then you go and take him to this boujee-ass steakhouse, throw him a surprise party and splash out on his birthday gift. You beat him up when he uses your shampoo, kick him when he accidentally scrunches up your notes, and threaten to emasculate him if he spills alcohol on your favourite couch that you treat like your newborn child. But you secretly care so much about him that I know you’d give him your kidney if he needed one.”
You blink at her.
Not quite sure what to say.
“Well, yeah, of course I care about him. Like you said, he’s a brother to me.” Okay, but do you let someone who’s just a brother to you cum on your face? “You don’t live with him so you don’t know what a useless brat he is. He burns pasta, Lotta. Pasta. Seriously, he’s such a dipshit, but of course I care about him. What’s funny about that?” Lying straight through your teeth is a Y/N specialty. As long as you say it with enough confidence, you can sell any bullshit.
But maybe you’re sounding a little defensive.
Lotta is clever, it is why you’re friends. Where this observation of hers is headed, you’re unsure of. She could turn this into a lecture about your abrasive personality, or suspect that something else is going on between you and Taehyung other than sharing rent.
“Nothing, I just said it was funny. The way you are.” Her smile tells you that it’s probably the former of the two possibilities.
“What can I say, I’m a funny person.” Not entirely buying it though, you shrug and play along.
Another bout of laughter breaks out from Taehyung and his friends, catching both your attentions. He thrives in social situations like these, good at entertaining people with his odd humour. You watch the flash of his teeth, the crinkle of his amused eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips every other sentence.
“You know, he actually is really hot.” Now, that you didn’t expect at all. Your head whips to face your best friend, whose eyes fixes back on yours but not before you catch her checking him out.
“Um, what?”
“I’m just saying. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, charming too.” Brows raised, Lotta lifts both hands up in defense when she see the arrows your glare is shooting at her. “Definitely the best looking guy I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re drunk. Since when did you admit that Taehyung is ‘hot’?” In complete ridicule, you scoff at her. Though, her point is completely 100% valid and true.
“Do you see me with a drink? I’m sober tonight, got an early shift tomorrow.”
“Why are you suddenly saying this? Weren’t you the one who wouldn’t shut up when I went to Mykonos with him because you thought I was too blinded by his looks to even know if he’s a serial killer?” Never has Lotta expressed the slightest, most remote of interest in Taehyung, not once properly acknowledging his attractiveness.
“I’m just saying. It’s a shame that you can’t see him that way anymore after spending so much time together.” It’s her turn to shrug, again with the annoying cocky expression.
Yes, after spending so much time sleeping together, more like.
“Yeah, no. That’s gross. You won’t get it because you don’t have a guy best friend. But trust me, no way would I ever go there with him.” Go ahead and call you a pathological liar, you don’t care. You’d never hear the end of it if Lotta finds out you and your ‘guy best friend’ have been knocking boots for over half a year.
You catch Taehyung glancing over to you, eyes twinkling with amusement, signalling for you to come over and join his crowd. Telepathy is one of your secret talents nowadays, you just know each other so well that spoken words are not a necessity for communication.
Taehyung watches you manoeuvre past those chattering bodies from across the room, making your way towards him with Lotta trailing behind. He knows he is definitely drunk, so it might just be the alcohol getting to his head but something looks a little different about you tonight. By that, he doesn’t mean your curled hair, or that new red dress you’re wearing that introduces your cleavage to the entire world. You’re kind of… glowing. There is a permanent smile on your face, even while resting the corners of your lips are turned up. And when you’re in a good mood, you are so transparent about it that you basically radiate like a disco ball in the room.
His chest feels warm. Maybe it’s the wine.
“Fuck, she’s so fit.”
For a second, Taehyung is worried that he thought out loud, but then realised that the voice belonged to Seojoon. He turns to his friend to find him ogling at your figure.
He doesn’t know what to say. It’s weird if he agrees. But he also doesn’t trust his inebriated state to execute a flat out lie that convincingly.
“You don’t know how lucky you are to have Y/N as your roommate, man. If it were me, I would’ve tapped that on the first night.” Seojoon continues, taking a swig of his beer.
“As if you could.” Taehyung snorts, unable to help himself. “She’s out of your league, ass.”
“Fair point. I heard she is a freak in bed, too. Do you ever hear, like, sex noises?” A freak indeed.
“Sometimes…” It’s true, even now. Occasionally he will stumble home with a girl he picked up at the bar only to hear the bed creaking furiously or breathy moans sounding from your room. Walls are thin. Sometimes it turned him on, other times it pissed him off.
“Bet you wank to it, eh? Taehyungie?” Seojoon ruffles his hair just as you and Lotta come within earshot. Liquor-brazen, he is suddenly overcome with an urge to announce to the whole room: Y/N and I are fucking. Yeah, that’s right. She’s my fuck buddy, so you can stop trying to hit on her right now because I’m gonna be the one she’s riding tonight. Seojoon, fucking suck on that. I don’t need to wank to her sex noises when I’m the one coaxing them from her.
However, a small sober part of his conscience tells him that he really shouldn’t do that; if he does, he probably won’t get any riding tonight. So he clamps his mouth shut.
You arrive amidst them in that sinful dress that reduces Taehyung to a teenage boy, and you take your turn giving them brief hugs as formalities, your best friend beside you mirroring your action. When you reach Taehyung, he pulls you in roughly by the waist, wine sloshing in his hand. From his careless force and lazy grin, you can tell he is almost completely gone. Taehyung is a wine-killer, but wine is also a Taehyung-killer.
Highly conscious of the presence of all your mates while he clearly isn’t, you pretend to roll your eyes and pry his hand off the small of your back. It doesn’t budge. So, awkwardly, with your midriff locked in Taehyung’s arm, you lean over to hug his last friend Woosik who gives you a shy pat on your shoulder.
The conversation resumes, morphing into Lotta telling everyone the most embarrassing stories of you during high school - back when you had braces and had the biggest crush on the captain of the football team. You don’t even try to deny it, laughing along at your pathetic 14 year old self. Though, you’re only half paying attention, the other half is keenly aware of the way Taehyung’s thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your pelvic bone. When you peek up at him, you find him already staring at you with eyes you know too well.
The ‘I’m gonna eat you out until you squirt’ eyes.
Fuck.
Then you notice Lotta’s sharp eyes on Taehyung’s hand gripping your waist. The ‘hold up, what could be happening over here?’ eyes.
Double fuck.
Tipping your toes, you whisper into your roommate’s clueless ear. “Let go, people are watching.” You almost allow your lips to graze his skin because you know how much it turns him on, but you remember to behave. But this close, his warm familiar scent tingles your nose in a way that makes you want to hug him.
Taehyung pulls away to look at your face, clearly displeased, then regards everyone in the circle. When he notices Lotta’s focus on the two of you, he slowly withdraws his paw, but not without purposely brushing past your ass.
.
“Strawberry-flavoured lube?”
Taehyung audibly gasps in disbelief as he tears open his poorly wrapped present.
“Yeah, you like strawberries right?” Seojoon chuckles and claps his back so violently that he falls forwards. On the other side of him, you haul him back up onto the sofa.
Everyone is gathered around the pile of birthday gifts on the coffee table, but not before witnessing you scold Woosik for not leaving his drink on the kitchen island from which the couch is a safe distance to prevent any spillage. Lotta just laughed at your fixation.
So far, the array of presents Taehyung has received ranges from Amazon vouchers, to expensive whiskey, to a funky tie. Yours sit furthest away from him, which he practically leapt in excitement when he saw the size of, only to be forced to open it last because you insist it’s going to be the best one.
“You’re insufferable, Seojoon.” Taehyung rolls his eyes yet fails to suppress his grin. Oh, you’re definitely trying out the lube at some point.
After ripping into a couple more, he finally arrives at your present for him. It spans an entire arm’s length; you know every guest must be wondering to themselves what it could possibly be. Taehyung drops onto his knees before it and carefully peels away the tape this time, knowing it probably took you awhile to wrap it up this neatly. You watch his long cautious fingers reveal the gift you had spent weeks raking your head for.
“Stop…” His eyes light up at the polished cedar easel that he caresses over as gentle as he would your skin. But as he continues to unwrap the present, a box of oil paints, a wooden palette and a set of 16 expensive natural fibre brushes are unveiled. “Oh my god, there’s more?”
Ceasing in action, he looks up at you, jaw so slack you bet you can throw a pea into his mouth even with your bad aim. The surprise on his face, almost a replica of his expression when everyone jumped out at him and yelled ‘Happy Birthday’ an hour ago. Except this time there is something more tender about how his wide pupils bore into yours. It makes you squirm.
Then without warning, he dives onto you, crushing you in the most fatal of embraces; you swear something in your spine cracked as you fall back onto the cushions, suffocated. People let out a sound of amusement at your struggle, but with his warm breath fanning your neck, you don’t even hear them.
After allowing this sweet painful moment for a few seconds more, you shove Taehyung’s heavy body off you, harder than you need so he slumps onto Seojoon.
“You’re actually the best, I love you.” He squeals like a boy on Christmas day before examining the paintbrushes with the utmost careful touch, as if afraid he would bend the bristles the wrong way.
What is he so cute for?
You kind of really want to pat his head and kiss his cheek right now. But there’s an audience obstructing.
Looking up, you lock eyes with Lotta. She is smiling, endeared by the purity of his reaction as well. See, not even she is immune his stupid cuteness. How are you supposed to?
Taehyung’s heart is constricting as he strokes the fine wooden edge of the giant disassembled easel. Of course, you know him better than any of his other friends. He has recently expressed an interest in painting, though his love for art and sophistication has been harbouring for a while now. He has only ever made subtle comments about wanting to properly get into it but not having the proper equipment to and not knowing the best brand to purchase. Yet you had picked up on it nevertheless. Everything combined must have costed you a significant portion of your allowance. Even he would not have splashed out this much on himself.
He turns back to you again from where he kneels in front of the coffee table. You are observing him with a thing he wishes to be adoration, a glimmer in your smile that wears more beautiful than any dress on you. For a second, there’s a flutter in his stomach and it confuses him because it feels an awful lot like butterflies.
But then you kick his back with the heel of your foot to get him to stand and Taehyung remembers that you are best friends. He’s not supposed to be thinking like that.
.
After cutting the cake, with food being a major satisfaction factor of any party, everyone sort of just hovers, huddled in their little groups with their plate of dessert in one hand, while they resume their conversation. The music is turned up loud so they all have to half-yell; some don’t even bother talking as they dig in, you included.
Being a quiet eater that you are, you stand by the island counter, sipping your wine in between bites of that chocolate decadence. Taehyung approaches you with his already empty plate; you haven’t even made it through half your slice yet. Judging by the lethargy in his step and that icing-slathered grin he has worn the entire night, you can tell he was the one who finished the second bottle of wine you opened.
“Hey.” Your fingers do a weird little wave that is so completely uncharacteristic, but tipsy-Y/N is sort of that friendly and laid back.
“Hey, pretty.” His hand trails around the corner of the counter surface and traps you between it and his body as he comes up behind you. Immediately you stiffen, looking around to see if anyone, especially Lotta, is looking. But when you find everyone preoccupied either with each other or the cake, your shoulders relax.
“What’s up? You having a good time?” Twisting to face him, you edge back until the counter digs into your back. Taehyung’s face is a dangerous proximity to yours.
The anticipation for the night you have planned for him in your bedroom thrums in your core. Patience has never been one of your strengths, and right now it is testing your very limit. You could kick everyone out right now if you really wanted to. But you won’t. You’ll wait.
You wipe the chocolate off the corner of his mouth with a swipe, the gesture you can’t tell if motherly or romantic. And just because Taehyung is peering down at you so longingly, you flick your tongue out and suck the sweetness on your thumb.
His breath hitches.
“Uh- I…” For a second, all thought is scattered in his brain, and you almost laugh aloud at how susceptible he is to your attacks. “Yeah, of course. I’m having the best time.”
“Am I the best roommate ever or what?” You watch his eyes trained on your mouth. From his alcohol scent, you don’t trust him to have enough restraint not to kiss you right now so you turn your back to him and rest your elbows upon the island top, leaning over to finish your cake.
In your peripheral vision, you spy his hands crawling towards your sides to cinch around your waist, his front pressing into you as he holds you from behind. The warmth of his body seeps into your back, and you swear you can feel the beating of his chest against your shoulder blades. A tingle shoots straight down your spine when he plants a soft, brief kiss on the shell of your ear.
Good thing you turned around then, your intuition was right. Taehyung has never been able to suppress his overt affection after a few drinks, and certainly not after this many. And no matter how much you want to just turn around and pull him into your lips, you fight it.
“Babe...” He groans into your ear and though it was barely audible even to you, you quickly glance up to see if anyone has heard. Of course, no one heard, they are all stood far enough that even without the music, they’d have to strain their ears to hear his whisper. Paranoia is eating your head away.
“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Taehyung.” Your heart is racing, which is weird because you swear you used to be completely immune to his charms. “You’re being too obvious, babe.”
“You don’t ‘babe’ me. I can’t control myself when you call me that.” The warmth of his breath fans all over the back of your neck, sending a convulsion of shivers down your spine.
One of his hands stretches for your wine glass, but knowing him well enough to predict it, you draw it away from his reach. “Stop drinking, you’re literally about to pass out.”
“No, you’re about to pass out. On my-” hiccup, “dick.” You keep your eyes locked on the crowd, ready to shove Taehyung away if anyone looks your way. But still, you can’t help but lean back into him.
“That made no sense.” You chuckle, fingers brushing over the smooth thin skin of this hand.
“Just one sip.”
“Taehyung. Stop. Drinking.” You grab his hand that tries to make a run for the wine again.
“But, Y/N…” He whines and slumps onto you, knowing that whining has gotten him what he wanted before.
You turn around, grab his face and pull him towards you until your mouth is brushing his earlobe. “Be a good boy and stop drinking if you want the best birthday sex of your life after this party. You better not get whiskey dick because a have a lot planned for you.”
At that, Taehyung stops breathing, stops resisting. Against your shoulder, you feel his chest jump. “Oh. Um. Okay, yup, no more drinking. Got it, ma’am.”
He sighs, completely at your disposal, as your touch trails from the sensitive side of his neck down to his torso. “Good.” After looking around again to check that no one is looking, you press your alcohol-infused lips onto his hastily, savouring his softness for no longer than a few seconds before pulling away. God, is it difficult to pull away. You’re aching for him. “Go entertain the guests while you sober up.”
Satisfied grin from the kiss stretched across his face, he nods obediently and scampers over to his friends.
.
“Are you ready yet?” Taehyung calls, impatient and giddy, the music that you’ve put on playing softly in the background.
“Give me one more second.” You reply from the bathroom, doing up your last button and regarding yourself in the mirror. Hm, not bad. You’re pleased with how this turned out, if you do say so yourself. Taehyung is going to lose his mind.
Sheer black stockings stretched thin over your legs, you strut into his room where he is seated on a chair in nothing but his boxers, wrists shackled to the back. When his eyes land on you, a strangled noise emits from his throat.
“Holy. Fuck. Holy fuck. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.” He chokes out.
The checkered material of your school skirt flies up at your every step teasingly, not high enough for him to peek your panties, but enough for your thighs to be flaunted.The clip of your stockings sit cool and beguiling on your quads. First two buttons of your white blouse undone, the matching red tartan tie hangs loosely around your neck between your exposed, pushed up cleavage. Your hair is tied into two school-girl braids, decorated in ribbons.
You’re Taehyung’s walking talking fantasy.
Innocent, chaste, ready for him to defile.
“Sir.” You address him, committing to your character, as you bow your head in courtesy.
Taehyung doesn’t appear capable of words, Adam’s apple wobbling in awe. So you continue your approach, making sure to regard him with large, demure eyes. As you sink down onto your knees between his widespread trembling legs, you notice a prominence already erecting in his boxers. You try not to smirk.
“What can I do for you, sir?” You put on your sweetest, most virgin of voices and bat your lashes once at him.
Chest rising quickly, Taehyung gulps as he realises that he’s most definitely going about to have the best sex of his life. “Um. Uh. Um.”
Smiling at his malfunctioning cognition, no thanks to you, you decide to help him out a little. “I’ve been sent to you for being a bad girl, sir.”
Do you find this slightly humiliating and degrading? Yes, you’re a woman of pride and a feminist. But does Taehyung’s birthday outweigh your morals? Yes, if only just for this night.
“What… What did you do, baby girl?” Voice dangerously deep, Taehyung watches you from his handcuffed posture, watches you twirl your braids in your fingers before they move sensual down your front, curving over your breasts and travelling to your core.
“It’s embarrassing to say but…” You look down in feign shame. “I touched myself.”
His whole frame tenses, arms straining to be freed from the cuffs so he can throw you onto the bed and fuck you mercilessly. His lips are parted, breath unsteady, cheeks still slightly stained from the alcohol but you made sure that he’s mostly sober by now. “Why did you touch yourself?”
“I was thinking about you, sir, and I just couldn’t help myself. Something started tickling down there and it felt so good to touch it.” Biting your lip, your fingers reach your clit over your skirt and start rubbing. The other hand traces swirls slowly up his thighs, higher and higher, until he’s buckling his hips.
“Wait, pause.” He says, your touch ceasing at his command. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m not going to last if you do this to me. I might even cum my pants.”
Usual smugness returning as you smirk up at him, your teeth digs deeper into your lower lip, refusing to break character. “Well, it’s a good thing we have all night then, sir. A water hose doesn’t just fire once does it?”
“Fuck.” Shutting his eyes, his head falls back to reveal his gulping jugular. Already so malleable? Yeah, he’s definitely not going to last. The first round. “Okay, okay. Resume.”
Your fingers reach the hem of his boxers, skimming through his tan, lustrous inner thighs. He jerks, his hard member jabbing out the soft cotton, begging to be freed. “So I was wondering if there is any way I could get out of this punishment, sir. My parents can’t find out that I’ve been a bad girl. I’ll do anything you want me to do, sir.”
“I see, Miss Y/L/N… How about, you warm up my lap for me first? I’m feeling slightly cold.” He wets his lips and bounces on his toes, his hard length jolting along with his legs.
“Oh, of course, sir.” When you stand up, you make sure to do it slowly, curving your body towards him to give him a good look at your breasts. He doesn’t miss the chance to devour them with his eyes.
Your hips begin to sway in the rhythm of the slow sensual music while you turn until your back faces him. You feel his glare immediate follow your ass, skirt sloshing side to side to reveal your plush cheeks. But rather than falling onto his lap as he wants, you stride over his leg, hand trailing across his chest as you begin to walk around him.
Massaging up his bicep, your hand arrives at his collar as you lick a thin strip up his neck. Taehyung shudders, struggling against his handcuffs again, cursing. “I can do anything you want me to, sir.” He shivers as you whisper into his ear, teeth grazing his skin. Your own heart is racing from excitement. Maybe you should do this more often. It’s selfish of you to do so since it’s meant to be his birthday sex after all, but you enjoy having him helt under you, seconds away from whimpering, gone be his natural preference for dominance.
As you walk around him, his head turns with you, not wishing for his sight to miss a second of this private show. Patience isn’t something he’s born with, he is a man who’s used to ceasing everything he wants. You know what must be going through his head right now, the anticipation, the hunger. So finally, when you’ve done a full circle around, hands not once missing the opportunity to feather his chest, you decide to ease him a little.
Deliberately unrushed, you sit inch by inch down onto his lap until his dick is burrowed between your warm cheeks underneath your skirt.
“Baby…” Taehyung immediately sits up, mouth arriving at the back of your neck, exhaling his hot fervour. The feeling of his skin pressed on the strip of yours between your skirt and cropped blouse has you craving for him to pound into you right now. Nothing can describe the flash of desire you get when you feel the touch of his naked body.
Then you begin to roll your hips, drawing loops of infinity with your ass to the beat of the song. The groan you elicit makes your cunt pulse. Taehyung’s stiff length jerks between your wiggling ass. His head falls onto your shoulder in a huff, metallic sound of his chains ringing as his arms clench.
“Sir, is that warm enough?” Your hips are merciless, rock back and forth, providing him with the friction he so craves. Hell, maybe you should start doing this for a living.
“Y… Yeah.” There is defeat in his voice, a croak that tells you that you’re the only woman to ever put him in his place like this. The only he’d ever submit to.
Slowly, you peel yourself off his lap, delighting in the small stained spot on his boxers, evidence of his drooling dick. You sink onto your knees before him again, fingers crawling playfully up his thighs. “You seem a little stiff, sir. Do you want me to ease some tension in your muscles for you?”
“Please be a dear.” The fervour in his eyes as he gazes down at you is pure, undiluted. It stirs something beastly inside you.
You’ve sucked Taehyung off a hundred times before, but something about the fact that he’s handcuffed to a chair on his birthday, almost cumming his pants, makes you especially eager this time.
A string of precum greets you as you take his lividly throbbing cock out of its restraints. You spare it a few pumps before you enclose the warm wet cave of your mouth around it. It’s perhaps evil of you, but you cut to the chase and go straight to deep-throating. He lets out a yelp of surprise when his tip slides smoothly through and hits the back of your throat. He’s going to cum soon, might as well give him your all, right?
Your mouth has gotten used to resisting the gag reflexes by now, engulfing him like a strawberry ice lolly during the summer heat. The occasional scrape of your teeth, just the way he loves, has him shiver beneath you. If he likes it rough, he should be able to take it rough. And when your tongue begins its inexorable attack at the pinch of skin where his tip ties to his shaft, Taehyung lets out a throaty cry. Not even a moan, a cry.
“Fuck, I’m losing my mind. Y/N, oh my god, keep going.” Through your curled lashes, you gaze up at him. His brows furrowed, guzzling up his favourite view in the world, maybe second to you riding him. Jaw unscrewed, he heaves at your large feign-innocent eyes, wrists dying to be freed so he could fuck your mouth.
Two throbs at the base of his cock, and he’s cumming right down your throat. It’s a larger load that either of you’d expected, telling of his obscene concupiscence. There’s so much cum that you can’t swallow, so you have no choice but to let it flow down his cock. With you still staring at him, he watches his white hot fluid dribble out your mouth and onto him, his features screwed tight in pleasure.
“Lick it off, baby.” Taehyung rasps, half his mind completely gone, dilapidated.
You hum as you spread his liquid around his tip and along his shaft, lips now glossy, before you slowly lap it all up. You know he is particularly sensitive after cumming, so you wallow in teasing his head a bit more, watching him writhe on his seat, whining your name. “Sir, how was that?”
Taehyung’s head is tossed back, eyes shut to recover from that post-orgasm intensity. He doesn’t speak at first, still trying to piece back together his mind. “I… That was… You deserve a worse punishment for doing that to me.”
Your core twists in excitement.
Briskly, you fish out the key to his handcuffs and unlock him, thrumming from the molten fury in his eyes. “What did I do wrong, sir?”
As soon as his wrists are free from their shackles, Taehyung stands and throws you over his shoulders. Smack. He hits your ass, your skirt doing little to soften the blow. You never knew yourself to be a masochist until it comes to Taehyung; his are the only hands you’d allow to spank you.
Then he tosses you onto the bed, your skirt flying up to reveal your peachy ass as you land on your front. “You just love it when I’m under your control, don’t you? Even this innocent school-girl roleplay is just a disguise to get me to beg for you, isn’t it?”
Twisting your head back, a smirk plays at your lips as you regard his frustrated yet immensely pleased expression. His fingers glide up your silky stockings enticingly, sending shivers coursing up your legs. “Sir, I have no idea what you mean.”
“Look at your fucking ass in this skirt, holy fuck.” He begins to knead the supple flesh of your behind, pushing up the skirt until it sit on your lower back.
Another smack.
He’s such an ass man through and through.
“Do you like my uniform, sir?” You moan between his smacks. Nothing really is compelling you to continue with this roleplay, but something tells you that Taehyung is bursting from it.
“I fucking love it, baby girl.” Smack. You can practically hear him grinning in satisfaction. His palm massages the redness he inflicted like smearing paint, touch growing closer and closer to your core.
Then with one push at your inner thighs, he spreads your legs wide open.
“Fucking hell. Crotchless? You’re really spoiling me tonight.” Like a little boy on Christmas Day, he marvels at your glistening slit, gaping at him in anticipation. Another small surprise for him.
“Of course- ahh!” You break into a moan when he runs two fingers down your folds, all the way to your bulging clit. “For the birthday boy.”
“Okay, now you definitely deserve the best head.” He lies on his front and grips onto your thighs to pull himself up to face level with your cunt.
You won’t tell him to prevent further ego inflation but every head he gives is the best head.
“Wait, Taehyung, it��s your birthday. Just let me-” You squirm in his clutch, trying to flip around, but he holds you still.
“Exactly. My birthday. I get to eat you out if I want to. It’s what my baby girl deserves.” For some reason, you blush. Who are you to resist head, especially from Taehyung?
Heat of his breath tickling your entrance, you plant your face onto the pillow and clamp down on your lip, preparing for that mind-twisting sensation that has a way of robbing you of sanity. His mouth finds your thighs first, kissing, sucking, blooming roses of his affection. You let him mark you - you are completely his tonight. Then his breath arrives at the sensitive crevice where your folds begin, a slow seduction towards your tingling bud. When he finally latches onto your clit, your eyes roll to the back of your empty head, a whimper ensuing.
His tongue is a predatory serpent, ceaselessly rolling your bud in his mouth. He’s rough, generous with the waves of pleasure he sends. You wish you aren’t lying on your front right now, just so you can look down at his concentrated face and pull on his wavy mop of hair.
With every flick of his tongue, you swim closer to your orgasm. His fingers are digging to your thighs, his breath quickening with his face buried in you. When he adds his long slender digits, you know your demise is round the corner.
“Fuck, daddy.” You yell into the pillow, that name coming so naturally to you that it requires zero brain processing to leave you.
Taehyung hums in response, those baritone vibrations shaking into your core until your leg involuntarily kicks back. Gripping onto the sheets, a string of profanities expel from you as that euphoric current comes crashing onto you, drowning your surroundings so that all you feel is his face, his tongue, his teeth, still mercilessly going despite your state.
“Fuck!” A tear slips from the violent stimulation at your clit continuing past your orgasm. You guess it’s payback.
Not one minute later, a second climax hits you, this time stronger than the last as it rides on the residual pleasure. The orgasm disperses into tension down your thighs, dying for more friction to relieve your cunt of the blissful ache. Warm tears stain the pillowcase your face is buried in, your cries muffled.
His pace gradually decelerates into soft kisses on your flower, fingers withdrawing to massage your folds. You are motionless, completely depleted after the dopaminergic release. Delicately, his lips travel up to your ass, where he sucks more colours as he awaits your recovery.
“How was that, baby girl?” Taehyung slowly turns you over onto your back, a lazy grin on his glistening mouth, your wetness slathered all over his nose. It views in your eyes as a display of your possession. You don’t miss the triumph in his gaze; you wonder if he likes making you cum more than cumming himself.
“Your mouth is fucking incredible.” You bask in the post-orgasm high, pulling him atop you, hand locking in his curls. You taste yourself as you kiss him, slowly and lethargically, your energy ebbing back to you.
“Yeah?” He smiles against your lips. “You know what’s incredible? You in this fucking uniform.” Pulling away, he scans your body top to bottom. And as you follow his gaze, you notice his hardened cock, once again ready for another round. You surprise yourself with how ready you are to take him, exhaustion not yet settled in from his overstimulation.
“You like it that much?” You press your lips together, and as used to Taehyung’s constant flattery as you should be, you still feel proud.
Taehyung nestles his face onto your neck. “If we went to high school together, I would 100% have been your bitch. Not a single doubt. Whipped.”
Your heart squeezes. Whipped.
You kiss his hair, resisting the urge to make a comment about what he said. “Haha. I would not have noticed you, I was obsessed with the captain of the football team.”
Taehyung lifts his head up, frowning at you with a playful annoyance. “Are you sure you want to mention another man in front of me right now?” For emphasis of his possessive mood, he grinds his member into your thigh. You can’t help but push back to feel him digging into you. Possessive Taehyung toys with your strings.
“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” You taunt further, pulling on his locks. Taehyung’s competitiveness is an easy target for manipulation; everytime he starts to go soft and sappy on you, all you have to do is tug on his jealousy and the bull will come charging back full force.
Surely enough, he growls into your ear. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, miss. You wouldn’t want your parents knowing the naughty things you’ve been up to, would you?” So he does love the roleplay. His tone slightly sarcastic, but also not really. But before you can hiss a witty response, he silences you with his teeth on your neck. As he sucks on your tender skin, your nails rake across his back in pleasure. He’s growing bolder with his territory.
“More hickeys?” You purr, not exactly in the complaining tone you’d wished it would come out in.
“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” He mocks, leaving a wet purple trail across your throat.
You allow it for the sole reason that it’s his birthday. Otherwise, you’d be kicking off.
You’ve never liked the idea of hickeys, the notion that someone feels entitled to mark your skin as theirs. You don’t belong to anyone. This is your own skin, and no one else’s. Yet - right now, as Taehyung nips at your neck, hand yanking on your uniform’s tie to pull you closer to him, you feel like you do belong…
You don’t finish that thought.
Reaching down, you begin stroking his patiently awaiting cock. “You’re brave for someone who’s dick is in my hands.”
Taehyung breaks away from your neck and reviews his work of art. The wolfish grin an indication of his pride. “You’re going to kill me tomorrow.” He says without the fear that should come with such statement.
Yes, you’re definitely going to.
“Then fuck me until I forgive you.” You challenge, unbuttoning the first button of your shirt while your stroking quickens.
He doesn’t need to be told twice. Fingers scrambling to undo the rest of your shirt, his mouth finds yours again, sucking on your bottom lip until it’s sure to swell later. Your bra falls loose with a dexterous flick, a gesture he can do in his sleep. Yet, he makes no move to remove your checkered tie at all.
When you try to loosen it yourself, he grabs your hand and pins it against the pillow. “That stays on tonight, along with the skirt and the stockings.” Voice laced with carnality, there’s a feral glint in his glare.
“Yes, sir.” Smile unstifled, you fall back into obedience.
Taehyung dares to plant more bitemarks down your chest before taking your nipple in his mouth, tormenting the sensitive bud relentlessly. Patience wearing thin, you line his tip with your slit, dallying it around to coat it with your dampness.
“Wait, grab a condom.” He mutters.
“Don’t need one.”
He looks up, confused. “What? Why?”
“I started taking the pill. Surprise.”
The look of pure shock and delight that usurps his face, for the third? fourth? time tonight, sows a seed of joy in your core.
“Wait, seriously?” You swear you feel his cock twitch happily in your hand. That stupid boxy grin that makes him look like a kid again… You want to kiss him dizzy.
“Yes, seriously.” You would never admit that you started taking contraception solely for Taehyung, because that would be weird, you absolutely did not do it for Taehyung. You’d always wanted to start contraception anyway. This was your own decision, influenced by no one else.
Certainly. No one else. Of course.
“Holy fucking shit. Y/N, you’re amazing.” Taehyung cannot contain his glee despite its juxtaposition with his pulsating cock about to enter you any moment now. “All this for me?” He asks, still in disbelief, as if the answer isn’t already written in big bold black letters.
“For the birthday boy, and the birthday boy only.” Your nose grazes his. These are the very words you’d be embarrassed to be caught saying to any guy, yet you’re currently too fuelled by the desire to please him to berate yourself.
Without another second gone to waste, Taehyung pushes his girthy member into your heat. Though it glides in with ease, your walls are stretched so wide that your inside stir, a sore pressure squeezing around him with each thrust. You always seem to forget how well he fits into you, and so each time comes as an eye-rolling surprise - the way he fills you so completely and entirely with his hefty cock.
“Oh fuck, you feel so-” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, too caught up in the raw unobstructed sensation of your slick walls.
Lifting your leg over his shoulder, the cavernous angle allows him to jolt deeper into you, his tip violently punching through you. While one hand remains on your ankle, the other twists your tie around his wrist and pulls as if it were a leash. “Sir…” You choke out at the constriction around your throat.
“Are you going to bad girl again?” He grunts, sweat beading on his forehead while he continues to ram his hips.
“No, sir. I won’t touch myself again,” you moan under him, “unless you are watching.”
“Fuck, Y/N.” One eye shut, Taehyung sticks his thumb into your mouth to suckle on. Your tongue swirls around his finger, biting down every time you need to shriek in pleasure.
After a while, he flips your bodies over so that you are riding him, watching, mesmerised, as your breasts bounce freely each time you spring on his dick. Your body falls back at the rippling coil inside you, hands braced on the mattress to keep you upright.
Taehyung could watch you ride him for the rest of his life. Hell, if he has a heart attack and dies this very moment, he would die the happiest man.
Sometimes, while you’re fucking, Taehyung gets a sudden rush of jealousy. Jealous that he wasn’t the one to ruin your innocence. Jealous that someone else other than him got to, or still gets to, fuck you like this.
He pulls on your tie so that you fall over him, lips colliding to remind himself that he’s the one fucking you right now, the rest shouldn’t matter. The way you moan into him reassures that no one has ever, or can ever, fuck you the way he does.
Then a messy whimper leaves you like a symphony, and for the third time tonight, you come undone, unravelled.
“Fu-u-u-uckkk.” You cry, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck, holding on as if he’s your lifeline because you yourself are unsure how much of this you can take before you drown.
“Baby, you’re so good, cumming for me again.” He sings, knowing that words like these thrums something in your core. You lap up his praise, smiling against his teeth despite yourself. It’s honestly a miracle how your usual brusque controlling self is suddenly transformed into his docile little girl, especially after a round of orgasms. “I’m going to cum again too.”
“Daddy, fuck, please. Cum inside me.” You pant, hips bouncing as fast as your aching muscles allow. Truth be told, no one has ever finished inside you before. And you are dying to find out how it feels.
Taehyung seems to know this. He grabs onto your waist, holding you in place, and plunges unforgivingly into you, penetrating your walls so ardently that you are shoved near the brink of yet another orgasm.
A grumble rippling through the room, finally, you feel a hot jet shoot into you, squirt after squirt of his thick cum filling you up. He frowns, a hoarse cry from the immense pleasure arriving at his cock, taking over him. Fucking hell, this is hot.
And kind of really intimate.
However, you notice that his pace has yet to slacken.
“I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes open to reveal pupils glowing with vehemence. Your clit throbs.
Still inside you, he turns you over so that you are both on your sides spooning, one of your legs hoisted up by his rough grip. The slap of your skin rings crisp and clear as he continues to fuck you. You lean back into him, ignoring the sticky coat of sweat coalescing your skins. His cum lubricates each thrust as you feel some spill out of you. His fingers start to stimulate your clit to help you reach your ultimate climax, viciously rubbing your sensitive swollen bud so much that you begin to see stars.
For him to keep fucking you even after cumming despite his tremendous sensitivity… Taehyung is going wild tonight.
“Are you going to cum one last time for me, baby girl?” He pants heavily in your ear.
“Yes, daddy.” Your own cunt is leaking profusely its tears of joy; you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.
In a few more thrusts, Taehyung is cumming inside you again, this time naturally less than the last, yet from his loud coarse groan, you deduce is much more intense. He pounds slowly yet robustly, milking every last drop into you. Due to the sheer oversensitivity, he has no choice but to pull out of you immediately after, leaving a spurt of his cum surging out of you.
“Oh my god.” He moans into your neck, both your heads spinning from the vigour of your intercourse.
But he knows you’re still a minute away from your orgasm. And never one to disappoint, he quickly sits up and spreads your legs open.
“Holy fuck.” Taehyung freezes at the sight of his cum slowly trickling out of you. To him, it’s a sign of possession, ownership. Apart from his ex, he has never fucked without protection, certainly not those random one night stands. To him, it’s a sign of intimacy.
Catching his white liquid in two fingers, he inserts it into your already gaping mouth, smearing it all over your tongue. In your cute little braids, you swallow it willingly, and Taehyung swears that he could fuck you again right then and there.
“You like that?” He asks, sticky fingers entering your core, feeling how clenched you are due to the pent up pressure.
“Mhmm.” You nod, hips lifting off the bed so that he can reach deeper. His thumb massages your clit, long digits moving in a come hither motion, stretching your walls in cusps that his cock did not have the ductility to reach. “Ahh, shit.”
Determination worn on his face despite his tiring limbs, Taehyung fucks you with his finger as you thrash beneath him. Your clit is already exploding with sensitivity from the previous rounds, and on top of that, with his thick knuckles push into you again and again, you are clawing at him while your whole body convulses.
The coil within your finally snaps. The ecstatic sensation exploding within you, flooding your every fibre until tears spring out your eyes. A clear liquid shoots out of you to both your surprises, and sprays its droplets towards Taehyung. His eyes widen, marvelling at your beauty as you cum not only on his fingers but all over him.
“Jesus Christ!” Chuffed with himself evidently, he leans in to kiss you, deep and desperate, while his fingers slow their steady thrusts to let you ride out the remainder of your high. His mouth is warm, a familiar taste as you regain your sense of self and surrounding that you tend to lose during sex.
As your brain begins to function again, the first thought you register is how much you don’t want to stop kissing Taehyung, how much you don’t want to let go of him.
“Taehyung…” You whine, bottom lip in the possession of his teeth.
“Feeling good?” He lets go of his bite, but lips remain dearly magnetised to yours. Dragging out his fingers, the wet noises of your clenched walls ring. Taehyung sucks on his dripping digits as you push his sweat-dampened fringe out of his face to survey his eyes. Full of yearning. And the way he is sucking… appears almost as a last display of submission after completely ruining you. A last shred of I’m yours.
“So.” You peck him. “Fucking.” Another. “Good.” Peck. Your bodies naked, your skirt creased and skin claggy, you refuse to release each other from your embrace. “But Taehyung…”
“What it is, my baby?” From on top of you, he is looking down at you as if you’re some delicate little buttercup in a barren field, a ray of joy radiating from his smile.
You tense. My baby.
You two might be kind of screwed...
But you’ll think about that another time. Right now, you just want to be held and kissed and looked after.
“It’s not fair. This was meant for you, but you made it about me.” You don’t know what’s taken over you but you pout at him, the same way he would do to you when he wanted something. But why, of course, it’s just like Taehyung to make you come four times despite it being his birthday sex. You don’t even know what to expect for your own birthday.
His own hair dishevelled, he tucks your loose braids behind your ears, a gesture of affection. “Nothing gets me off more than making you feel good. This was about me. This was everything I wanted. Best sex I’ve ever had. But in what world would my best sex not include making you squirt?”
Your don’t know why but you feel incredibly vulnerable right now, your hard edges softening. It’s the after-sex glow that you’re seeing everything in. You feel warm, bubbly, tender.
And now your chest feels weird, like something itching to rupture out of your ribcage. You want it to stop, yet also don’t.
“Taehyung…” You whine his name again. “No fair… You can’t be like this.” Your brain offers no explanation as to why you’ve adopted his usual saccharine manner, other than the fact that he has fucked you completely senseless.
“Like what?” He asks, egging the rare words of sweetness out of you.
“Like… You know… So giving and nice and perf…” Your voice trails off when you notice his excited smirk. God, what the fuck are you saying? You flush in embarrassment.
“Perf…? His smug grin only grows at your shyness.
“Stop. You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Stop teasing me.” Taehyung chuckles at your frustration, taking the chance to kiss the tip of your nose before you try to squirm out of his arms like a cat.
“No, go on. You need to be better with your words. Tell me how you feel.”
Your entire face is heated.
“I… You’re just… You treat me so well. How am I supposed to sleep with anyone else anymore?” You immediately wish you didn’t say it out loud. Because your phrasing implies that you want monogamy, commitment. It’s not what you meant at all, you don’t think. You just meant… You don’t know what you just meant.
You search his eyes frantically, in fear that he’s thinking the same, only to find them calm, content. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty fucking awesome. Thanks.”
Rolling your eyes, you’re grateful for his childish humour obstructing any serious consideration of your words.
“Don’t make me take it back, moron.” You scoff, pinching his round cheek between your knuckles.
“Too bad, it’s my birthday, everything I say is the law.” Still hovering over you, he presses gentle kisses all over your face, delighting in the way you pretend to hate it even though you can’t suppress the smile. When he stops, his face is sincere, the playfulness gone. “Y/N.”
“What?”
“Thank you so much, honestly, from the bottom of my heart. This was… the best birthday I’ve ever had. Not just the sex, but the whole time with you, the dinner, the party, everything.” Your heartbeat quickens, unable to hold his gaze so you focus on the curve of his collarbone instead. “Even better than the pirate-themed birthday party my parents threw me when I turned eight.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “Honoured. It was my pleasure.”
“Seriously, I lov-”
Taehyung catches himself before he could finish that sentence. Those unspoken words hang over your heads like a puppet.
Because for some reason, although you’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other a plethora of times in the past, this time feels like a different connotation is implicated. The line between platonic love and romantic love feels blurred. And neither of you know which love is meant.
Taehyung is a sentimental guy, you tell yourself. Of course he means he loves you as his best friend. And that’s surely what you mean too when your eyes are pleading him to keep kissing you.
There’s a moment of silence, for you both to gather your scattered thoughts, staring at each other, unsure what to say.
You clear your throat, dispelling the tension in the air.
“Lets go clean up.”
“Yeah.” Taehyung rolls off you, avoiding your eye as much as you are avoiding his.
The clean up is wordless, both pretending to be too preoccupied to spare the unspoken words any thought.
Except they’re all that’s playing at your mind.
Taehyung didn’t mean it like that. Taehyung doesn’t love you like that. You’re just overthinking. And he’s overthinking about you overthinking. You two are fine, you’re normal.
Examining the purple clouds he had imprinted on you, a stream down your neck, a cluster around your breasts, then the large ones between your thighs, you’re surprised to find not one drip of annoyance. A scary thought dawns on you. What if you like them? What if you like being marked by Taehyung?
What the fuck is happening?
You wait for him to crack a joke to ease up the awkwardness, glancing up at him in the mirror as you dry your hands on the towel by the sink. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s perched on the edge of the bath tube. Zoned out.
Have you finally taken it too far? Finally overstepped that hazy nebulous line that you perhaps should have set more clear?
“Hey, Taehyung.” His head snaps up at you, eyes large with uncertainty. “You okay?”
You want to reach out to touch him, brush his cheek, kiss his forehead. But you hold back. Not wanting to fuel the fire of confusion. But then he tugs you towards him by the hem of your skirt, corner of his lips turning up, imbuing you with a gust of relief.
“Just thinking.” His fingers crawl up your legs, holding onto your hips like his hands belong to nowhere else. “Come here.”
Chest pounding, you walk towards him, let him sit you down on his lap. Though you wish not to look at him with his face so close to yours, your eyes cannot pull away from his striking beauty. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but Taehyung’s feel more like the front door to your home. When you look into them, no matter how you’re feeling, whether you’d been fighting or kissing, you just feel embraced in a cloud of clarity, security.
You don’t want to think about the complication between you two at the moment. You just want to be looking at him, touching him, holding him.
You watch him glance at your lips, hesitancy playing at his mind. You know he’s thinking the same.
“We’re okay, right?” Throat tight, you ask, rather pointlessly.
“Of course. We’re great, same old us.” His arm around your waist feels warm and safe, and when your mirror his growing smile, you almost believe him.
But when your lips gently press against his, you know it’s a lie.
You’re not the same old you.
Taehyung feels different. Skin smoother, tastes sweeter, mouth softer. The roughness of his usual kisses is gone, replaced by an inexplicable tenderness that makes you feel things in your gut. You swat those feelings away.
Something is changing. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, you don’t think you can ignore its booming presence.
You don’t dare make a sound as he carries you back to his room. You don’t protest when he throws one of his t-shirts over your head. Nor when he holds you into his chest, lips tracing your forehead with a soft sleepy smile.
Noting that you’re being uncharacteristically quiet, he pokes the nub of your nose. “Who stole your tongue?”
Act normal. Just be your loud annoying self.
“Uh… You.” You murmur, unable to meet his eye even with strenuous effort
Well, fuck.
“Okay, let me give it back to you.” Before you can protest, he is kissing you again. And you want to push him away because you feel your heart lurching to your throat, and you don’t think it is healthy. But your feeble hand that was meant to shove him off lands weakly on his pec, and somehow with a mind of its own, snakes up to his neck and pulls him in. His tongue unfurls onto yours, gently sweeping away any logic.
When his lips finally leave yours, you’re out of breath.
You don’t know what’s happened to you. Since when did you react like this to Taehyung?
Forcing your usual smirk, you try to wear a convincing facade that you feel nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m expecting great things for my birthday, though to be honest this is going to be hard to beat.” The underlying dishonesty tastes sour. You’ve never had to put on a front with Taehyung, and doing so now feels… alien.
“I’ll start planning it tomorrow, don’t you worry, your highness.” Taehyung pretends to roll his eyes at your demand, though the circles he’s rubbing down your back is telling of his genuinity. He isn’t an classically romantic guy, not one for flowers and chocolate, but more a sentimental gift that leaves a deep meaning. You know you’ll love whatever he plans. It worries you that you’ll perhaps love it too much. “But seriously, thank you for everything. The easel? How much did that cost you? I’ve looked at that brand before and there’s no way it was cheap.”
“It doesn’t matter how much it costed.” Warmth is creeping up on your cheeks again. You try to excuse it as Taehyung’s radiant body heat. “Let’s just say I had to resort to prostitution to pay for it, okay?”
Bodies shuddering in laughter, some tension in the air is thankfully alleviated by your humour, filling you with hope that things should and will return to normal in no time. You just need to stop overthinking.
“Hey, can you sleep here tonight?”
You freeze at his request. Because despite your constant fucking around with each other, one clear boundary has been that you don’t physically sleep with each other after sex. If you do sleep over, it is always just a completely platonic gesture. No kissing or fondling. Something about falling asleep in each other’s naked bodies is too mushy and couple-like. The type of thing that make you puke.
“Why?” You frown defiantly at him. “It’s not even your birthday anymore, it’s past midnight. So technically, I don’t have to treat you like royalty anymore.”
“Why not?” Taehyung rebuts, that cocky expression making you want to nipple-cripple him. This difficult son of a bitch, does he not know that the line is going hazy between you two?
“It’s weird, we just had sex.”
“So? What do you have against sleeping together after sex? Scared that you’ll fall in love with me?”
Your chest sinks to your stomach. You swear to god, Kim Taehyung is going to be the fucking death of you, stupid shit. How could he even say something like that so casually?
“In your fucking dreams, prick. If anything, you’d be the one to fall in love with me first, I just made you cum three times.” Taehyung chuckles at the flash of fury in your eyes, amused by how easy it is to strike a nerve in you.
“Do you want me to fall in love with you?” Though his tone is playful, and the wiggle of his brows suggests his mockery, you don’t know if he is completely joking anymore. And suddenly, everywhere that you’re touching - your entangled legs, his hands on the small of your back, your chests pressed on each other - everywhere starts to burn.
“Shut up, I’ll fucking sleep here, okay?”
And so this night, for the first time in the seven months you’ve been on-and-off fornicating alongside your unwavering friendship, you rest in Taehyung’s bed, your frame tucked snugly in his, his arm reposed on your waist. And despite your fatigue, it takes too long for sleep to find you as you watch his shoulders rise and fall in the dark, lips slightly parted, beckoning you to kiss them.
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26/12/19
© Copyright 2019
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Sometimes, people have different--very different--sets of headcanons and sets of ships etc for a given piece of media and cast of characters because they have basically different understandings of who those characters are.
A lot of times, that’s just because every fan as their own unique life experience to apply when engaging with and interpreting a work, so they see different things reflected back.
But when it comes to what I call Legacy Characters--characters that have had their story told and retold, adapted and readapted, reinvested and reset time and again; such as comic book characters--a huge part of who a fan understands a character to be is determined by what versions of that character they’re familiar with, what aspects of different versions have coalesced in their brain to form their sense of that character in general. Usually, the biggest influence there is which version of a character that fan encountered first.
I see both knock-down drag-out fights and casual disrespectful disparaging comments within some fandoms--especially big comics fandoms like Marvel--that on the surface of them are more of the typical dumb “my interpretation is the only right one and anyone who disagrees is wrong and Doesn’t Understand The Media” stuff, but that I am SO SURE mostly boils down to this issue of having very different but all equally legitimate senses of the characters from having familiarity with different appearances of the character, or in a different order.
For instance--using what I find to be the most glaring case as an example--the Marvel shipping wars amongst Steve/Bucky, Steve/Tony, Sam/Steve, Bucky/Natasha, and (increasingly) Sam/Bucky shippers. Sometimes the Pepper/Tony, Pepper/Natasha, and Bruce/Tony shippers join the fray.
These conflicts get so nasty. Even a lot of the more chill shippers, when prompted, have very ugly things to say about ships other than their own and the people who support them. Allegations of racism, misogyny, fetishization, and general toxicity run rampant and are often talked about as though they are the only possible reasons someone could ever have for shipping or not shipping a given pair.
I want to make it clear that I personally do ship or have shipped several of the above, including ones that mutually exclude each other. There’s a few I’m neutral on up there, and one that kinda squicks me--we’ll get to that later.
Every single one of them is a perfectly good ship. None of them are inherently fucked up in any way and I will not hear any argument to the contrary.
Do some supporters of these ships get overzealous and obnoxious? Yes, that’s kinda why we’re talking about it, but that’s not a problem with any of the ships themselves.
I’ve noticed some patterns around people being into particular ones of these ships and their personal histories with various Marvel media.
Steve/Tony: mostly comics fans at this point, either were into the comics before the MCU became a thing or the early days of the MCU got them into the comics and they’re now more into the comics than the films. Because there’s a LOT of material in the comics to support the ship! There’s so much! Including the fact that in one comics reality where Tony is a woman, she and Steve get married!
Now, there was a ton of this’ere Stony fic that got churned out in the early days of the MCU, a lot of it from fans getting into this world for the first time through the phase 1 movies, at which point other potential partners for these guys either hadn’t been introduced as characters yet, or hadn’t been fleshed out. A lot of film-main (as opposed to comics-main) Stony shippers moved away from the pairing as the MCU continued, Bucky became the counterpoint of Steve’s Character arc, Sam got brought in, Pepper and Bruce each got more screen time, and the dynamic between Steve and Tony in the films got increasingly adversarial in a way that’s less sexy more fucked up.
The battle cry against Stony from other factions, especially from the Steve/Bucky camp is usually “but they’re so toxic!” and, I mean, yeah--if your sense of these characters is primarily based on how they are in the MCU, they are. But in my experience, even if they’re working MCU events and settings, the Steve and Tony being imagined by Stony shippers aren’t really that Steve and Tony.
Steve/Bucky: look, Stucky is an MCU thing. Articles have been written and published about the fact that the dynamic between Steve and Bucky in the MCU follows the beats of an epic romance to a T. The basis for this ship is all there on screen--throw in a little bit of history nerd mojo and you’re in deep.
By my observation and estimation, most new or formerly-very-casual Marvel fans who came in via the films and remained film-mains, and who are inclined to not-strictly-heteronormative shipping at all went the Stucky route. Folks who initially shipped Stony then switched to Stucky are pretty common. People starting with Stucky and then switching to any other ship with Steve to the exclusion of Stucky? Very rare. And while for a lot of people Stucky is their OTP in the strictest sense, I do see a lot of Stucky shippers who are here for other ships as well, either in an alternate realities kinda way or an amicable exes/polyamory kinda way.
The only people I’ve seen who have a problem with Stucky as a ship (other than “my ship is a different ship, therefore this one is bad and wrong”) are comics-mains whose sense of Steve and Bucky is heavily informed by runs of the comics in which Bucky is significantly younger than Steve and kid sidekick type figure. For them, the dynamic between the general forms of these characters leans mentor/student or protector/charge, so the inclination is to read the MCU relationship as fraternal, because it being romantic is squicky based on their sense of the characters.
Sam/Steve: comics-mains, film-mains with significant comics familiarity, film-mains who just aren’t into Stucky for one reason or another, or film-mains who are just really into Anthony Mackey which is a perfectly valid reason to get behind a ship. People who know Falcon from the comics seem much more likely to be into this ship and also more invested in this ship. I’m not qualified to say much about support for this ship from the comics themselves because my personal familiarity with Marvel comics doesn’t include much of Sam Wilson at all, but I am absolutely qualified to say there’s support from the films, especially CA:WS.
The worst vitriol against this ship tends to come from overzealous Stucky OTP shippers who really need to remember that fandom is supposed to be fun, and flat out racists. That must be acknowledged and needs to be addressed. Fandom racism in general, and against Sam in particular is a thing and it can absolutely be a factor in shipping.
However it’s not inherently racist to just not ship Sam/Steve because you see them as bros, or because Stucky is your OTP, or because you ship Sam with someone else, or whatever. Worthwhile to take a minute to examine why you don’t ship it, if you don’t, and check that for racial bias in how you view and treat Sam as a character, especially if you’re white.
Sam/Steve and Stucky are the two ships I see coexist the most! A lot of people ship both of them separately and exclusive from one another, but a lot of people also go ether the OT3 or the “Steve and Sam were definitely a thing for while there but now they’re not” route.
Bucky/Natasha: comics-mains or film-mains with significant comics familiarity, particularly for the comics worlds in which Bucky and Natasha are a couple, which seems self explanatory as to why that correlates. Not a lot for it in the films, Nat and Buck don’t interact much in the films that we see, and they’re kinda trying to kill each other in much of what we do see. But, like I said, they’re a thing in some of the comics so there we have that.
This is the one that squicks me. Clearly it’s a super valid ship; depending on the canon it’s a canon ship. Frankly, they make sense together, canon or not--their individual backgrounds as spysassins and with brainwashing etc means they’d be able to understand one another in ways no one else around them really can. But my personal amalgamation of these characters from the films and what comics I’m familiar with has Bucky having been Natasha’s teacher when she was a kid in Red Room. So I cannot ship it, I can’t do it.
The fact that I personally am squeaked by it has absolutely no impact on the fact that it’s a good ship, and the fact that it’s a good ship cannot and does not negate the fact that it squicks me.
Bucky/Sam: okay, there’s not a lot of this out there yet, but what there is seems to mostly be coming from film-mains who either don’t ship or co-ship Stucky and/or Sam/Steve, and who really liked the dynamic between these two in Civil War, and I guarantee you we’re about to get so much more of this ship with Falcon and Winter Soldier premiering. I’ve already seen some hate directed at this ship from the same places Sam/Steve gets hate. I predict, though, that this one will also get co-shipped alongside Stucky by the less strictly OTP of those shippers and I’m curious to see what the dynamic ends up being between Bucky/Sam shippers and Sam/Steve shippers as this camp grows.
In conclusion, I guess, note that not shipping a ship doesn’t have to mean attacking that ship (and it shouldn’tI) and not liking a ship, even being deeply uncomfortable with a ship for your own reasons doesn’t mean that ship is bad. We’ve all got our own individual sets of experiences both in life and with the characters in our fandoms that can dramatically change how we see those characters and their relationships to one another. This gets especially complicated and diverse with Legacy Characters like those from sprawling long-running comics multiverses. Someone’s understanding and interpretation being different from yours does not make either of you wrong!
As long as no one is an asshole about it it, it’s actually really interesting and cool to compare interpretations and see how your understandings overlap and differ, to think about what bits of canon have been formative for you and what personal experience may have made you inclined to interpret certain things certain ways.
Fandom is supposed to be fun. Shipping is supposed to be fun. You can and should hype up and express love for your own ships without tearing down others.
#long post#meta#fandom etiquette#marvel#shipping#stucky#stony#sam/steve#bucky/nat#bucky/sam#squick is a useful word#don't be an asshole
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eyes and wyel
I said "please don't make me do this" and then y'all had the audacity to make me do it, so here we all are.
So in this in depth rant analysis I'll discuss the way the concept of eyes/staring/looking is handled in where your eyes linger (you can find all episodes here, in case you missed it). You see I'm not really good at this and I've never written a post like that before, but I just can't stop thinking about it.
Anyway, let's start with a quick mention to the title of the series. As we all know the eyes are the window to the soul/a mirror of our heart (if you don't actually believe this, then this post will have no meaning to you). You see, I always found the fact that you can understand so many things about someone just by looking at their eyes very fascinating. But what does it mean when your eyes linger at something or someone? I feel like the most obvious answer to that question is that it shows desire or even love. That's it, you just can't tear your eyes away from that someone. You don't want to lost sight of them, not even for one second. But I think it can also mean something else. Have you ever really stared at someone because you were just trying to understand them? As if, if you stared long enough they would give you the answers you want, as if everything would be magically revealed.
I think in wyel, it might also be that case, alongside with the feeling of desire. I'm not saying Tae Joo and Kang Gook don't really know or understand each other. But I feel like they have both created in their minds an image of the other that might not be entirely accurate. Tae Joo will flirt with Kang Gook and Kang Gook will stare at him and think "Why? Why is he doing this? What does this little brat want now? Can't he see that it is killing me?" and Kang Gook will ask Tae Joo a favor, to not try and seduce him, and Tae Joo will stare at Kang Gook and think "Why? I don't understand. Why is he reacting like that? Why does it always feel that too many things are left unsaid? Why do I feel this anger and jealousy inside my heart? Does he feel the same way? Talk to me Kang Gook, talk to me, talk to me". What I'm trying to say is that some things are very hard to say out loud. Maybe sometimes they are trying to find the truth, to communicate, to understand each other by looks and touches.
And let's not forget what Kang Gook said in this scene.
Aside from everything else, this is still Kang Gook's job. It is a master/servant relationship and Tae Joo is the only one who can't or doesn't want to see it. Kang Gook doesn't even have the freedom to look away, even if he wanted to. Even if what he is seeing is causing him so much pain, he can't look away. Of course, he might be using his job as an excuse to keep looking at Tae Joo. But in that scene we can also see how much he dislikes this situation. As I said on another post, he doesn't feel free. He isn't even allowed to make simple choices about his life. And as we now know they have been together for 15 years. He has been basically living as a shadow his whole life. But he can't look away now. He can't free himself and he is probably drowning in a pit of self loathing for that.
This is already getting too long and we haven't even talked about any of the actual episodes yet. I apologise to the 10 of you who will actually read this, but that's me! I ramble a lot.
Okay so when I started writing this I was planning to comment on some scenes from each episode, but as I was watching it again and taking screenshots, I noticed something interesting. These boys look at each other so much. Like a lot. Of course it’s normal to look at the person you are talking to, but they look at each other so much, even when they aren’t talking. If they are in the same room, they will look at each other. I can’t really explain it, you should see it yourself. It’s easy to see the difference when Kang Gook is on a date with Hyemi. They don’t look at each other as much as Kang Gook and Tae Joo look at each other. And I don’t mean only when Tae Joo comes and Kang Gook keeps stealing glances at him. Even when they talk or eat, they just don’t spend the same amount of time staring at each other. One might say it is because they just met. Well yeah, but also, just go and watch it again and you’ll understand what I’m on about (hopefully).
ANYWAY let’s just get to the actual scenes.
#1: Okay damn let’s talk about this. This is the scene Tae Joo’s father hits Kang Gook and threatens Tae Joo that he’s gonna send him to England if he doesn’t behave. Look at the sadness in his eyes. After he gets hit Kang Gook turns at Tae Joo and gives him a strained smile. Tae Joo desperatly needs someone to comfort him, to tell him that his father isn’t going to send him away, that he won’t be separated with Kang Gook who has always been the person closest to him. I believe he feels sad Kang Gook is being punished at that moment because of him, but most importantly he just doesn’t want to go. Kang Gook has always been a constant in his life (except that one week in Japan maybe). I can see why Kang Gook said that Tae Joo sees him as him mother. He always was the one to comfort Tae Joo and put him back together and Tae Joo seems to always depend on Kang Gook for emotional support.
#2: Tae Joo’s face before and after Kang Gook says “If you are that good, maybe you don’t need a bodyguard anymore”. Again his whole face changes completely and he looks so shaken. The truth is he probably can’t imagine his life without Kang Gook, the thought alone terrifies him. Maybe he is even slightly hurt that Kang Gook even said something like this. Like this friendship, relationship, or whatever it is, isn’t as important to him as it is to Tae Joo. I-
#3: Tae Joo asking if Kang Gook saw him and Mingyeong kiss the previous night. I believe Tae Joo probably knows Kang Gook did see them. And the fact that he brings it up like that makes Kang Gook so angry. He’s probably wondering why did he have to bring it up. And why is Tae Joo even asking when he knows his job is to always look after him and of course he saw it because he is his bodyguard and he must watch him 24/7. It hurts Kang Gook that he saw that kiss and that he didn’t have a choice. But he is also very angry because Tae Joo is oblivious to all of this and his feelings.
#4: I don’t have much to say about this. Look at the softness in Tae Joo’s eyes and how, although this is a kind of awkward situation, he isn’t averting his gaze. For fuck’s sake, where’s his oscar??
#5: Now Tae Joo is experiencing all these confusing new feelings and he can’t stop thinking about Kang Gook. The famous shadow speech. You can see both confusion and maybe anger in his eyes. I am not sure if he is actually staring at Kang Gook or if he is seeing a shadow. That scene is just a really good example of a very confused boy. And all that hurt is turning into anger.
#6: I believe at this point Tae Joo has actually started realizing what his feelings mean. He gets into the restaurant and doesn’t look at Kang Gook at all. This is the first time he acknowledges them. Right after Hyemi asks if Kang Gook likes Tae Joo and then if Tae Joo likes Kang Gook. We basically know he hears everything they say so that can’t be random. He wants to hear the answer. So he looks at Kang Gook with the same sad eyes and waits. And then he hears the famous “master/servant relationship” response.
#7: So many things have already been said about this scene. They both realize the importance of what really happened. And it’s not just the “you were supposed to be protecting me” thing. Kang Gook mechanically went to Hyemi. It wasn’t even a concious choice. His instinct told him to protect her and not Tae Joo. He probably sees this as Kang Gook not caring enough about him, actually not caring at all. He would just let him get hurt.
#8: Nothing to say about this, I just had to include this.
#9: This. This parallel. Even when he was on a date with Hyemi, from the moment Tae Joo entered the place, Kang Gook couldn’t stop stealing glances at him. And ofc she noticed. I believe Hyemi is actually very smart and observant. Kang Gook probably really tried to like her and forget about Tae Joo, but his eyes betrayed him. You see, that’s what eyes do. You can’t control it. That’s why I think this is all very interesting.
FINAL POINT I PROMISE. Look at the following screenshots.
#10: As I said, while watching it again to take these screenshots for this post, I noticed how much they look at each other. They literally can’t take their eyes away from each other. That’s why the moments that they DON’T stand out so much. Bet you didn’t see that coming, huh? I think it’s mostly Tae Joo trying to avoid Kang Gook every time he’s angry or upset and Kang Gook trying to avoid the topic of their feelings and hide the truth. Them not looking at each other though, feels me with so much sadness. You can feel something is clearly very very wrong.
In conclusion,
#sorry for how long this turned out#where your eyes linger#wyel#analysis#tae joo x gang gook#tae joo#kang gook#angelic.txt
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Can we discuss Tiger acknowledging Gustaf’s sensual essence. She’s not attracted to him in a legit way, but she recognizes how he’s just a walking sexual being and Bill finds this out and is just like please no. He’s a little jealous but also insecure cause that’s his big bro who he’s closest to and that’s his rock. Bill feels all the feelings.
Look man, Gustaf’s sensual essence is just....it’s impossible to ignore. I know little to nothing about this human, and yet I feel like I know his soul. Gustaf is good people. He’s calm people. He’s kind people. And while I’m still reeling from that sweet, sweet--god SO SWEET photo of him and his grandmother that he posted awhile ago (I think it was Mother’s Day in Europe?I can’t remember) but he’s just....Gustaf is one of those dudes that you never quite get over. Even if you’ve broken up, even if it’s years down the line, somehow--you always still think about a dude like Gustaf. And you wonder. You wonder if he’s well, if he’s found someone he's happy with. You wonder what he’s up to, if he ever ended up getting that motorcycle that he could never shut up about. You wonder if he still drinks his coffee black, if he still takes a bubble bath at least once a week and listens to Enya. You just...wonder.
But like look, you know what gets me here? Is maybe tiger acknowledges his sensuality, his mystique, in a far more subtle way--which in turn, just makes Bill so much more angry.
Hear me out.
So I like to think of tiger as a little ball of absolute fucking fire--she’s bitey, snappy, sassy, angry all the time and quite loud about it. She’s just hell on wheels, and Bill is her big calm dude who is always even-keeled and mild mannered. Ever notice how big dudes tend to be the most gentle? They tend to be the calmest? It’s because they know they can win the fight. All these other little dudes have to puff their chests out like peacocks, full of machismo and male ego, trying to prove a point. Big dudes are rarely like that. They don’t gotta prove nothin’.
In any case, maybe it’s the famed Skarsgard family camping trip and tiger has been even more high strung because of work stress. Tiger is basically being insufferable to Valter, and she’s sniping at Bill but he’s taking it in stride because he loves her anger. Gustaf though, Gustaf just watches it all calmly. Gustaf plots. He observes, but then he waits.
And maybe when tiger is having tea out by the dock, he comes over with a big blanket, undoes it, places it on her lap.
“Did you know,” he starts lowly, sitting down and resting his forearms on his knees, “That your shoulders are up by your ears?”
Tiger glares.
“All that tension must hurt,” he said, “Come on, take a deep breath.”
And tiger--like any warm blooded female--tiger has a bit of a soft spot for Gustaf. He’s not one you sass. So instead she huffs a bit because she just has to voice her displeasure somehow, but then she does it--takes a big, deep inhale through her nose, and breathes it out slowly through her mouth.
“Good,” he says, “Stand up for a second.”
And the difference is, Gustaf--much like Bill--doesn’t give tiger a chance to say no. He stands, takes her mug and places it on the table, then pulls her up gently, walking behind her.
“I tend to carry all of my tension right....here,” he pokes between her shoulder blades and she’s wound so tightly that she flinches, “And it seems you do too.”
Two big hands wrap around her shoulders, and she instinctively stands a little taller.
“Deep breath again,” he says. Tiger inhales, and on the exhale, Gustaf pulls her shoulders back. She nearly sags in relief, feeling the ball of tension in her back easing.
“Again,” he says, “And this time, try to pull away from me.”
So she takes a deep breath, and as he pulls her shoulders towards him, she resists and tries to pull them forward.
“Oh my god,” she moans at the deep stretch, “Oh fuck.”
He makes her do it three more times, and at the end he just runs his hands down her arms, throws the blanket over her shoulders.
“Tomorrow morning,” he says, “Sunrise. Out here.”
“Oh, no. No no. I don’t do mornings. I sleep through sunrises.”
But he smiles gently, runs a thumb across the deep bags under one eye.
“You’re not sleeping at all these days,” he says. And without another word, he retreats into the house.
And like, look. For a solid week, tiger joins him out on that dock, and he starts introducing her to yoga. Maybe a bit of meditation. Just very, very gentle stuff--no tough poses, nothing that hurts, just focused a lot more on breathing. And tiger is....slowly becoming much more peaceful, under his tutelage. And she starts to cherish those mornings, because Gustaf is sensual but tiger doesn’t feel it in a sensual way. She kind of just...she wants to cuddle Gustaf. Just wants to be in his presence, because he’s so incredibly calming and so nurturing. Gustaf is good people, he always was. So tiger spends nearly every morning with him and she comes back refreshed, calm, positive, invigorated. And Bill isn’t really any the wiser, because he sleeps like a log with the country air and tiger is usually back before he can even wake up.
But Bill notices one rainy afternoon, when they’re all in the living room playing Mario Kart. She’s on the couch and he’s on the floor in front of her, her legs over his shoulders as he strokes idly at them, his nose in a book. But he’s keeping an eye on the screen--and this is the fifth straight round that tiger has lost spectacularly. She’s either gone flying off the rainbow road or Valter has annihilated her with a tortoise shell of death--every round--and Bill flinches a little, in anticipation of the impending storm. He waits for it, ready to catch the controller that will for sure go flying by his head en route to his brother’s, maybe he even grips her ankle a little tighter to get a better hold in case she decides to fling HERSELF at Valter’s head. He clenches his jaw, wincing already and just hoping the trail of cusswords isn’t screamed too loudly or too closely to his ear.
But instead, he hears the controller be placed gently back on the couch, and he hears tiger take in three deep breaths--calming, rhythmic, steadying. And he peers up at her curiously just in time to see her eyes reopening, her shoulders lowering back to their normal position. And he’s just about to ask her if she’s feeling alright, until it happens.
It happens.
Gustaf reaches over, and gently taps the back of his knuckles on her bicep.
“Atta girl,” he says, “Doesn’t that feel better?”
Bill’s blood runs cold.
And it’s not that he thinks Gustaf would ever do something, it’s not that he thinks TIGER would ever do something--it’s just that Gustaf’s aura is addictive, it’s undeniable, and Bill is a jealous bean when it comes to his Little Human. And this type of thing happens all the time with brothers, it’s normal. Bill isn’t threatened so much as he is just...a little irrational about it all. And he’s also pretty disturbed because he loves tiger’s fire, and he loves his role in it--tiger gets all up in ends about everything and it’s Bill’s job to smooth it out, calm her down, make her feel better. He likes being that person for her, he likes being her balm and her sense of reason with everything.
And in true Bill fashion, I’ll bet he lets it eat away at him for the entire day. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even squeak when Gustaf and tiger get into a really deep conversation about the powers of the psyche, the depths of the mind, ways of using emotions to control physical reactions in your body. Tantra. Bill doesn’t say a word.
But later on that night as they’re getting ready for bed, tiger pulls him down for a sweet kiss.
“I like this,” she runs her thumb over his scruff, “It’s sexy.”
“Why didn’t you yell at Valter?” he asks suddenly. Tiger looks at him, confused.
“What?”
“Valter needs to be yelled at,” Bill pulls his face from her hands and walks over to the door, opening it and jutting his chin.
“Go yell at him.”
Tiger is dumbfounded, and Bill eventually sighs heavily and slams the door shut a little too hard.
“Why are you so calm?” he demands.
“Why are you so...not calm?” she asks, “Bud, what’s going on?”
“Tiger, I like your fire. I like that you’re just....always angry. Because then I get to be the one who comes in and...helps. And I know you don’t need my help, but I like being that guy for you. I like that you get all angry and pissed off and that you snap at everything, because I like how it feels when I’m the only one who can talk you down,” he say, “Until, apparently, I’m not the only one who can talk you down.”
But tiger’s not an idiot. She knows there’s more.
“And what else?” she prompts. Bill shifts those big eyes of his, but tiger just crosses her arms.
“And you’re in love with Gustaf,” he mutters.
“There it is.”
She sighs, walks to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Bill, I’m not in love with Gustaf,” she says, “He has good energy. He was showing me tricks to try and relax a bit more.”
“But he’s....tiger, every single female on this planet is in love with Gustaf,” he pouts, “All this energy meditative calming tantra bullshit. He’s all sensual and mysterious and--”
“Bill,” she cuts him off, “So are you. Do you ever wonder maybe where you might get that from?”
His pout deepens, but he stays silent.
“Buddy, you have the closest bond with Gustaf because you two are so much alike,” she continues, “You have good in your soul. You have kindness in your soul, god just the way you take care of me is incredible. Your calm nature, your empathy. These things can't be taught, but they can be cherished and nurtured. And I think Gustaf did that for you.”
She plunks her head on his chest, puckers her lips for a kiss and he bends slightly, lays a soft peck on her mouth.
“I’m intrigued by Gustaf. Calm people intrigue me. But I’m not in love with Gustaf. I’m not even attracted to Gustaf.” she says, “It’s you, Billy Goat. You. You you you.”
He kisses her softly again, but then he pouts.
“There’s a ‘u’ in Gustaf.”
“Bill.”
#family drama#BFF!Bill#bill skarsgard#bill skarsgard drama#gustaf#I still want Gustaf to like...fuck my soul
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remember when devin grayson wrote about green arrow flirting with teenager dick grayson and then bruce and dick have an incestuous relationship............................
Listen, I have no idea what this ask says, I just see a string of random letters followed by dot dot dot.
In completely unrelated matters, the only dynamic between Dick and Ollie I abide by is one where the nicest thing Dick’s ever said to Ollie is something like “hey why does your face look like you killed a squirrel and glued it to your chin, is that what you were going for or do people just not like you and so nobody ever told you til now that that’s what it looks like.”
And even there, that’s still just the best Dick could manage (or was willing to even aim for) after Bruce gave Dick a totally and one hundred percent genuine and sincere Talking To about how he needed to be more polite to Ollie. Cuz the way I envision it, all that’s after Dick initially opened with something like, idk, “hey wanna hear a funny joke, it goes “what do you call a known Errol Flynn fanboy who thinks putting on a domino mask when he fights crime with a bow and arrow like, magically makes his goatee invisible? A dumbass who doesn’t get how secret identities work, that’s what. Get it, its you, you’re the joke.”
LOL for the record, I don’t actually hate Ollie and have no really strong opinions on him one way or another, it usually just depends on how he’s being written in whatever story or issue I’m reading with him. Its just canon that Ollie is like, one of the few people that Dick just openly can not stand, pretty much, with this stretching back far enough that personally, I like to headcanon it goes all the way back to even before Ollie took Roy in and has absolutely nothing to do with Roy whatsoever.
Idk, its just really fucking funny to me to picture that like, for whatever reason, ten year old Dick Grayson decided upon meeting the Justice League that they were all awesome except for Oliver Queen. Dick doesn’t know why, he doesn’t care why, he just knows that like, “I do not care for that Oliver Queen guy, not one bit, and no, I am not open to constructive criticism on this matter, UGH BRUCE STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND BE NICER TO HIM, I SAID HE WAS A BUTTFACE AND I MEANT IT, WHERE’S THE CONFUSION.”
Because see, while Ollie is not Actually The Worst, he IS one of the League heroes who is prideful and petty enough to like, absolutely take offense to someone hating his guts for no discernible reason, while considering this more than reason enough to hate their guts right back. Even if that particular someone happens to have both miles and years left to go before they hit either puberty or the top side of five feet tall, and thus in the meanwhile, Ollie must literally lower himself in every sense of the word in order to return fire at his pint-sized and prepubescent critic.
Like, if Dick for whatever reason decided he just doesn’t like Superman or the Flash and he’s not gonna and you can’t make him, then I mean, Clark or Barry or someone else along those lines would just be like, oh, okay, that’s fair I guess. No, its totally fine Bruce, the adorable little human incarnation of glitter, cotton candy and all things Cute and Precious and Wee that you just took in is allowed to hate me if he wants to, its absolutely *wheezing sob* not a big deal. I’m a big boy, I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf with him. Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in my room for the next 84 years, trying to figure out if I was some kind of monstrous puppy-kicker in a previous lifetime and that’s why my fate here in this one is to be despised by a ten year old with the superpower of Absolute Preciousness. Its my punishment, clearly, for being just the worst kind of monster to ever exist, the only kind that could actually be hated by someone like your adorable little Fun-Sized sidekick of joy and sunshine and l-l-laughter......no, don’t look at me, I’m hideous! *bursts into tears and scurries away to hide from the light*
But see now, Ollie, on the other hand, like.....he’s not a monster but he’s not about to let even some paragon of preciousness go around painting him as one. Why the fuck does he spend so much money on publicists if he’s just gonna roll over belly-side up the first time one of the people bad-mouthing him just happens to be like, a toddler instead of the usual TMZ?
So Ollie’s not about to admit that he’s actually miffed and even a little bit wounded that this cherub who seems to like even most supervillains more than he likes Ollie, just like, can not seem to be in his presence longer than sixty seconds before drawing his weapons and stabbing Ollie with words that hurt, dammit, because he has feelings too, y’know, he spent a lot of money on pricey therapists figuring out that yes, those are feelings he’s feeling and he can even name some of them.....
Like, he’s not quite on board with actually ACKNOWLEDGING that hey this stings, and that he really just wants to know what the hell this kid’s deal is and why don’t you like me, tiny human, what did I ever even do to you??? But all of that is like......Advanced Level Therapy stuff that he hasn’t quite gotten around to finishing yet at this point in time. Like yeah he’s already dropped a mint on the A-list of the head-shrinking world by now, but apparently he was supposed to keep coming back or something like that, they all keep making a really big deal about that for some reason, and look, he’s been busy. So he really just hasn’t had the time to finish up the course on How To Make Peace With the Fact That Sometimes Tiny Humans Don’t Like Me Even Though I’m A Fucking Delight, Dammit.
But even if the why of this kid getting under his skin so much eludes him for the nonce, Ollie is perfectly clear on one thing: he doesn’t typically go around making enemies of the twelve and under set, but if you prick him, he doth in fact bleed, you little prick. So if this knee-high nightmare is gonna keep coming at me and trying to start shit, then I am more than willing to throw down, is basically Ollie’s take here.
“He wants to dance? Then c’mon, let’s do this thing. We can dance if he wants to. I’ve got the time,” Ollie says to himself and any other nearby Justice Leaguer who might be looking at him with that swiftly-becoming-familiar expression of mingled judgment, pity, exasperation and something a bit more ambiguous but which probably lands somewhere in the ballpark of “We honestly don’t know what to make of all of this but we’re all a little concerned This Is Not A Good Look, Bro. And also, we would like to formally request by way of this petition with all 200+ signatures of Leaguers and auxiliary members and support staff: please don’t escalate this into something where Batman might actually kill you, because that’s definitely not gonna make any of this less awkward for the rest of us, and uh....not to be indelicate here, but all those times we’ve all said things like no Ollie, we don’t think Bruce is a better fighter than you and we absolutely agree with you, you could totally maybe take him in a fair fight if you had your bow and arrows on you and he had the flu probably.....like. Umm. How to put this....Okay, soooooo....here’s the thing. There may, perhaps, ever so slightly be a possibility slash definite hardcore certainty that there were fib-like qualities to those conversations. A little bit. Oh hey, look at the time, we gotta run, there’s a fire somewhere, hopefully. Lol wait whoops did we say hopefully, that’s so weird like where did that even come from. We definitely meant to say probably. There’s a fire somewhere, probably."
But look, at the end of the day, the thing is, Headcanon Ollie is not like, proud of any of this, but he’s not unproud of it either. He is hashtag justified and he wouold appreciate some validation of that Ugly Truth, even if it might go against the grain and not ever exactly be a POPULAR opinion with the “please don’t tell the ten year old that nuh uh, his face looks like a hairy butthole, nobody wins there, that is not the victory you are looking for” crowd.
Honestly though, at this point Ollie’s list of Big Asks is quite small. Miniscule, even. All he wants, all he really really wants, is for someone, anyone, to join him in grasping the one essential corn kernel at the heart of this whole clusterfuck. The thing that nobody but Ollie seems to get and that Ollie’s pretty sure would be enough to allow him to die happily, if he could just manage to find one other person to sign on to the one single extremely obvious observation he keeps trying to point out to everyone, with a whole lot of nada to show for it:
Because see, the one thing about all of this that drives Ollie just absolutely up a wall, is that for some reason he can’t seem to get anyone to understand that like.....this whoooooole ridiculous mess, just like, even in terms of its very existence in the first place?
None of it is Ollie’s fault.
Dick started it!
Mere moments after frustratedly trying to convey this to Dinah for the umpteenth million bajillionth time:
“Okay, could you at least say something?” Ollie asked exasperatedly. “Anything? Seriously, I would take you counting to ten in Cantonese as an acceptable response at this point.”
“I’m just trying to decide which concerns me more,” Dinah said at last. Several epochs and the equivalent of the entire Jurassic Period later. But whatever, its not like Ollie was holding his breath at this point or anything. “The fact that you are genuinely trying to find and occupy the moral high ground in your feud with....a ten year old. Or that you actually think you’ve found it. That this is it, this is what that looks like. ‘The ten year old started it.’”
That was apparently all Dinah had to say. She fell silent again, and said silence lingered through a recreation of now the entire Cretaceous Period, before continuing into a revival of the whole Paleozoic Era from start to torturous finish.
“Well?” Ollie said with a patience that belied the urgency of the many pressing matters he had to attend to. Like the vanquishing of a ten year old archnemesis most foul.
Dinah just continued to frown pensively.
“Hang on, I’m still deciding.”
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