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#It is impossible when I can barely eat food without throwing up or being in pain
allfryam · 1 month
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the hot dog eating contest
one summer, while out with his friends, Alex bet he could eat an entire pizza by himself. None of his friends thought he could do it but they all wanted to see him try. Piece after piece, the pizza started to slowly disappear into Alex’s stomach. With a final bite, he let out a large burp and rubbed his bloated belly. His friends were in awe, and Alex’s best friend Noah, had a gray idea. “Dude you should totally enter that hot dog eating contest they do for the fair.!” Noah said. “dude that was last weekend.” Alex responded, letting out another belch. “no. Next year! You’ll have all year to train and you can already eat an entire pizza. It should be easy.” Alex usually ignores the stupid ideas Noah came up with but this one wasn’t too bad. The top prize wins 10,000 dollars after all. Then it was settled. Alex would spend the next year trying for a hot dog eating contest. How hard could it be?
the next day while doing research on the topic, Alex found a strategy. Most people said eat until you are full, and then eat some more. The goal is to stretch your belly so you can fit more food. Alex was worried about his figure though. He had a nice body with slight abs that had started to fade after he graduated college. He figured if he gained any weight, with the $10000 he could get a nice gym membership to work it off. He started training with breakfast. He ate his way through ten pancakes before feeling like he was going to throw up. After waiting about a minute, he felt some room left in his belly so he ate another pancake. He did this three more times before being done with breakfast. For lunch, he ate a large burger and felt pretty full, but he definitely still had more room, so he ate another. Now he felt like he was going to explode. After some belly rubs and a few burps, some room opened up for a third burger. This one caused trouble. After a few bites, Alex really thought his belly would burst. After stifling a few attempts at throwing up, he barely managed to get the rest of the burger down. He groaned in pain as his stomach was stuffed to the brim. He looked at it to see a tight, round lump of flesh. It looked gross. He decided to take a nap before dinner with his friends.
at dinner, he ordered spaghetti, a steak, and some chicken wings. All of his friends looked at him in disbelief as he gorged on all of the food. Bite after bite he kept at it. His belt grew tight but he didn’t even notice from how fast he was eating. He groaned as he shoved the last bites down but it would all be worth it when he won the prize. With another loud burp he freed up some room and stole a few fries from Noah’s plate, finally being full enough to lay back in his chair and rub his bloated stomach. About 30 minutes later, after the normal paced eaters had finished, the waiter swung by the table and said, “any desserts for tonight?”
“no thank you I’m stuffed” said the rest of the table. But to nobody’s surprise, Alex sat up and ordered a slice of chocolate cheesecake. “Dude what the hell are you doing?! Trying to get fat?!” His fried mark exclaimed. “I’m training” Alex replied. “I have to expand my stomach capacity for the hot dog eating contest.” They looked at him wearily and watched him struggle through his slice of cheesecake.
this cycle of stuffing himself until he felt like he was about to pop continued for the rest of the week. Alex’s started noticing he could eat more without feeling nauseous. He could eat an extra 3 slices of pizza before having to stop. While his appetite and stomach capacity were increasing, Alex failed to notice his waistline was too. Without his knowledge, he had gained almost 5 pounds in just a week. The slightest bit of fat was starting to grow on his belly. It was almost impossible to tell, because he was always bloated, but the weight was definitely there. And it was only a matter of time before people began to notice.
day after day Alex ate like it was his last day on earth. The second he felt he could fit more food into his stuffed belly, he was making his way to the fridge. His new favorite snack was a triple decker grilled cheese. It was 6 slices of bread with 3 pieces of cheese between each. He loved making new concoctions to help stretch his stomach. One day he ate a Big Mac salad. It was three Big Macs crushed and shredded into pieces. He put in into a bowl, added shredded cheese, ketchup, mayo, and threw it in the microwave. Alex thought it tasted awful but he still ate it. Anything to help him win the contest.
after a few weeks of training, Alex decided to test himself. He went to the grocery store and bought as many hot dogs and buns as he could and brought them all home. He watched professional eaters on YouTube and noticed they dipped their bread in water to make it easier to eat. Alex stacked the hotdogs on his tray, set the timer, and began. He yanked buns off the hotdogs and dunked them in the water while shoving the hot dog down his throat. Then he would wash it down with the soggy bread and a sip of water if he really needed it. Then the cycle repeats until the time is up. Hot dog after hot dog, Alex’s belly continued to get fuller as the food slithered down his throat. As the timer went off, Alex finished chewing and did a tally. He managed to eat 19 hot dogs in ten minutes. To most, this would seem like a great accomplishment, but at the fair last year, the record was 42. Alex had a long way to go, and he was feeling stuffed from all of those hot dogs. He would need to be able to eat a lot more if he wanted to win.
after his first month of training, Alex had finally began to notice his weight gain. He was up 17 pounds from when he first started and it was all in his belly. He frowned in the mirror as he pinched his flab. He had been fit his whole life. Was it really worth it to throw that away. He called Noah to get a second opinion. “Holy shit” Noah said as he answered the FaceTime and saw Alex’s belly. Alex didn’t notice, but Noah had to move the phone to hide his boner. “what do I do Noah? I really want to win this challenge but not if it means getting fat” Alex said wearily. “fat? No way dude! You look great. If anything it’s probably just a little water weight.” Noah replied. He was trying to do anything to get Alex to keep the weight. Alex eventually agreed after some more convincing and then invited Noah out for lunch.
They ate at a small diner downtown that had some incredible burgers. Alex took advantage of that and ordered four. “Four? That’s it?” Noah asked. “Cmon man if you want your stomach to expand you need to eat more than that.” alex agreed and ordered two more burgers. He scarfed them down one by one until the final burger. He had been struggling with the last two but there was no way he would be able to eat this one. He leaned back in his chair and burped. His tight shirt rose up slightly and his bloated belly began to peek through. “Need help big guy?” Noah asked. “dude there’s no way *burp* I can finish this.” Alex replied. “I’ll help” Noah grabbed the Burger and shoved it into Alex’s mouth. Alex’s eyes grew wide as Noah continued shoving. With nothing else to do, Alex began chewing. The warm burger started to disappear into his gut and he moaned in pain with each bite. When he was done he unbuttoned his suprisingly tight pants and leaned back with his eyes closed. He rubbed his tight belly and breathed heavily. Noah was practically foaming at the mouth from how horny he was but he couldn’t let Alex know. One Alex had recovered from the insane amount of food he just ate, he sat up and looked at Noah. “Dude that was incredible. I’ve never eaten so much in my life! You should help feed me all the time!” Alex said excitedly. Noah’s face turned bright red and he agreed almost instantly.
Noah showed up to Alex’s apartment loaded with different fast foods. Alex was nervous but also excited. He knew Noah was capable of making him eat it all. Alex decided to eat in his underwear to ensure his stomach had room to expand. Noah liked this idea as well. They sat on the couch and quickly got to work. Alex downed fries, burgers, milkshakes, chicken nuggets, soda, tacos, and cookies. Noah sat with delight as he watched Alex’s round belly expand and begin to roll over the waistband of Alex’s underwear. “URRRP! Ok I need your help dude.” Alex said with shaky breath. Noah reached into one of the paper bags and pulled out donuts. Alex smiled and Noah began to slowly shove the fatty food into Alex’s mouth. Alex rubbed his bloated gut and moaned with pain but also some pleasure. It was the greatest thing Noah had ever experienced and Alex seemed to be enjoying it too. “Take off my underwear.” Alex said between bites. “I need room to grow.” Noah blushed and pulled off the tight underwear to reveal Alex’s boner. Noah began to stroke it as he continued shoving donuts down Alex’s throat. Alex moaned with each movement Noah made until the donuts were gone. Out of breath, the two men fucked as Noah continued to stuff Alex. The intense motions caused Alex’s new belly to jiggle and sway. Noah teased him as he shoved more food into his mouth. It was the hottest sex either of them had ever had, and they fell asleep cuddling, surrounded by food wrappers and crumbs.
I really like the idea of this story and I tried to make it a bit longer than my usual ones. Hope you guys enjoyed part one!
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octuscle · 6 months
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Fuck man using this app whilst I'm currently so horny might be a mistake but please tell me this thing has a forced growth feature. I'm so bored of being small already I just want to become so fucking huge the only thing I can fit in is under wear, skin tight gym shorts at the most. I want my stench and B.O to instantly fill up a room and make lesser men fall to their knees.
I just wanna be forced to become a young insanely huge freakshow of a bodybuilder.
RIPPPPPP! In the middle of lunch, the seam of your jacket rips open across your back. The whole restaurant is looking at you. You barely look up from your plate, on which instead of a coq au vin there are now six boiled chicken breasts with rice. You struggle to free yourself from the shreds of your jacket without stopping to gulp down your food.
RIPPPPPP! Your biceps burst the sleeves of your shirt. With your mouth full, you mumble something like "sorry" and just rip the remnants of the sleeves off the rest of the shirt. You eat your food like a pig. The glass of Merlot is now a canister of protein shake. Your colleagues and business partners stare at you with open mouths. You pause for a moment and do a double biceps pose. Fuck, the bushes under your armpits stink like a horse stable. You take a deep breath and grin. PIIIIING! Two of your shirt buttons can no longer withstand your pectoral muscles as you inhale and fly through the air like projectiles. You stand up with difficulty, apologize again with your mouth full and spit food scraps around. On the way to the toilet, you let loose a huge protein fart. A quick look in the mirror… You can throw away the shirt. For the rest of lunch it must still hold out with torn sleeves and unbuttoned. While you first fart and then burp even louder, your boss comes in. Holds you a telling off, what that was for an impossible behavior on your part. He asks you to leave the restaurant discreetly through the back exit. And to report to him in the office tomorrow morning.You put your hand to your temple in an "Aye Sir". And you fart again as a farewell.
Your fancy Porsche convertible groans as you squeeze your body into the tight seat. Fuck, the car is much too small for you. The remnants of the clothes you're wearing on your body are much too small for you. You desperately need a change of clothes. In your gym there is a small corner where they sell fitness clothes. And the gym is nearby, so you drive the car there. The receptionist stares at you. This is actually a posh place for yuppies and influencers who want to keep fit. Not for the big lads like you. You ask if they have anything to wear in your size. The lady asks you if you speak English. You repeat your question with a heavy Russian accent.
The only thing they have here in your size are shorts that are frighteningly tight on your thighs. At least there are shoes and socks in size 14. You look good. You do another pose in front of the mirror. The passing visitors of the gym hold their noses. You smell your armpit again. Good honest pumper sweat. You want to go to the training area when you are asked for your membership card. You search for your wallet in the rags that used to be your suit pants. There it is. But Anatol Ivanovich is not a member here. Anatol is a member of Gold's Gym.
You love your Jeep Wrangler Rubicon. A car like you. Massive and bursting with power. And fortunately well ventilated for any passengers. As you roll into the parking lot in front of the gym, you and your car stick out. This is certainly a place for the big guys. But you're the biggest of them.
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After the third set on the leg press, you take a deep breath. Yes, this is what a gym must smell like. Like burps. Like protein farts. Like sweat. Like testosterone. Just like you!
Found the pic of your new you @muscleaddictza
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myreygn · 6 months
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tkltober day 12: Bites/Nibbles
Haikyuu!! - ler!Osamu, lee!Suna
¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸¸
“You’re a terrible host.”
Suna didn’t even bother looking up from his notes. “I’m busy studying, Samu. I told you I’d be.”
Osamu let out a huff. “Yeah, and I, your guest, am hungry.”
“Yeah, and you, my boyfriend who’s here five days a week, know exactly where the fridge is.”
“That’s not the point.”
The middle blocker sighed and finally glanced at his visitor who was sprawled out next to him on the bed and glared at him. “Then what is?”
Osamu sat up to throw an arm around his shoulders and lean onto him. Suna didn’t mind the sudden invasion of his personal space, just returned to his biology homework without waiting for the point. If Osamu had to throw his body weight on top of him like this to make it, it couldn’t be a good one. “The point is that you’ve barely given me any attention this entire time and fixing us a snack is the least you could do, for both of us. I’ve been here all day, haven’t seen ya eat a single bite.”
Oh, right. Damn, he had really been wrapped up in his stupid school work. Suna gave Osamu a pat on the head. “You’re right… let me just finish this, okay?”
“How long is it gonna take?”
“I just need to get through one… two more pages, then I’m done with this topic.”
“That’s too long.”
Even though Osamu sounded somewhat upset, Suna continued scribbling down notes. His boyfriend would get over it and besides, he had been behind on this shit since the school year started and he wasn’t so sure they’d let him play in nationals if he didn’t catch up soon. “After that we can make dinner, I promise.”
“Alright…”
And Suna thought that was the end of that, but of course it wasn’t. With Miya Osamu, there never was an end to anything revolving around food. “Hey- whahat are you doing?” He couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out when he felt a nose nuzzling into his neck.
“Just watching.” Lips were pressed to his skin and Suna flinched. This would’ve probably been very nice if his neck wasn’t one of the most sensitive spots on his body.
“Samu, that tickles-”
“I know.” A squeak slipped out of Suna’s mouth when Osamu softly bit him - it didn’t hurt, it just tickled like crazy. And when Osamu spoke, the smirk was audible in his voice. “I’m just getting an appetizer.”
“Samu, Sahamu, wahahAIT- gyahahaha!”
“That bad already?” Osamu let out a low chuckle that would’ve made Suna weak in the knees in literally any other situation - not when it was used to mock him though! “I haven’t even done anything for real yet.”
The only good thing about what followed was that the teasing stopped. A hand softly but firmly holding his chin prevented him from scrunching up to protect himself and a second hand holding his wrist made it nearly impossible for him to interfere with the relentless mouth his neck was being subjected to. The bites, kisses and even licks might’ve even been really hot if it weren’t for the fact that he was damn near crying from laughter in no time. Should’ve never let Osamu find out about this. Should’ve never let Osamu in his life in the first place. When he felt a nibble on his ear, it was officially over.
“SAHAHAHAHAMUHU! PLEHEHEHEHEASE, IHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T!”
“So you’re gonna get food with me now?”
“YEHEHEHEHES, JUHUHUST STAHAHAHAHAP!”
“Heh, alright.” Osame pressed one last kiss to his cheek before letting go of him and laughing softly when Suna slumped against him, trying to catch his breath. “You okay?”
Suna nodded and sat up with a groan. “I’m good, I’m good... Let’s get take out. My treat.”
“Really?!” He almost laughed at how excited Osamu got (why was he so cute, this was unfair) and quickly gave him a kiss.
“Yeah, really. I’m sorry for ignoring you all day.” A wicked grin spread his lips. “And I need to strengthen myself so I can get you back later.”
Osamu just laughed and stood up, holding out his hand for Suna to grab. “I can live with that.”
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starafterdeath · 6 months
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This month, it's going to be one year since our dog died. His name was Pontius and he was 23 years old, which is, quite frankly, kind of a long time to live for any mutt, even a mutt like him. 
His health has been through a lot, too. First, he gnawed off his tail - don't ask me why or how, I wasn't even living with his owner at that point. He had a neurological condition that made him chase, bite, and scream at his tail as if it had a snake head attached to it. In the end, the infernal appendage was damaged so severely the dog had to get it amputated. He was forced to wear a "cone of shame" after the procedure for roughly two weeks, to his further displeasure.
When he was already in his double digits - 18 or 19, maybe (the high time my silly ass finally found out dogs weren't supposed to eat chocolate) - he got bitten by a tick. For the first time, we realized how fragile an old dog's life actually is if something as small as a blood-sucking arachnid could usher in its - seemingly - wayward mortality. It was a real threat that caused him to pee liver-colored urine, throw up everything he ate, and move with the liveliness and efficiency of a cinder block in a swamp.
Those few weeks we were really afraid he could die.
He survived, though. Antibiotics at the vet's and a lot of rest did their job.
A couple of years later he got a growth on his knee: a disgusting festering clot that grew bigger every month, most probably resulting from an infected wound. We consulted the vets about removing it surgically, but they insisted the ol' woof-woof wouldn't handle the anesthesia. At his age, temporary sedation could very likely turn into a one-way ticket to dog hell (because I'm sure if there were canine versions of heaven and hell, this doggo had a whole couch with his name on it - for him to rip apart and pee all over - in the lowest depths of pandemonium). Months passed. The growth became insufferable: at that point, it was a bulbous piece of red muck
emitting blood and pus that stained the furniture, the floors and sometimes the walls around the apartment. We consulted a different vet and decided to go through with the surgery.
He survived again.
Within the next few years he had a stroke. He couldn't walk properly and his head was now slightly tilted to the side like he was permanently surprised at something - you know how dogs do that head tilt when something perplexes them, right?
He kept on living.
He was 22 and couldn't get on or off the couch without my help. He had almost no teeth left. His age was making him apathetic towards every irritant that ground his gears before. His enthusiasm towards food never waned, though: whenever he saw his bowl being filled with any kind of chow, he jumped around like he was 13 again.
He started developing a new growth, this time - on his side, somewhere between 22 and 23 years of age. It didn't bother him much, but it did us. The veterinarian said nothing could be done about it because the growth wasn't external, like that thing on his knee some time ago, so surgical intervention would be rather dangerous for him at his age.
Then the war started and we had to leave. Taking him with us would have been impossible due to his frail state, so my husband's parents were tasked with looking after him until we were able to somehow transport him to us. I remember hugging him before we went to the airport. I don't remember if he growled at me or not.
For the next three months, he lived alone in an apartment, visited and fed by two people he barely recognized and possibly not understanding where the hell his owner (my husband) and the annoying but unavoidable food and water person (me) had gone. Then, on September 23, 2022, he died. Possibly of a heart attack.
I cannot shake off the feeling that he would have lived longer, had we stayed. I'm always told that 23 years old is already too long for a dog; not a single canine can handle living this long. This was definitely the longest I've dealt with any animal in my life, and what a troublesome animal it was. I have a hard time looking at people walking their dogs now. I start crying whenever I dwell on the reasons too much; whenever I dwell on the memories of Pontius too much. Everything about dog-owning gives me a headache. He had been taken care of since he was roughly one and a half years old, and we weren't even around to see him conclude his existence that spanned almost two decades.
I guess it's just one of those things.
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clawleader · 2 years
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02.  CONDITIONS.
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𝕴t’s safe to say that Sejuani didn’t have an easy upbringing. Between her birth mother leaving, to the abuse she sustained at the hands of her grandmother, to the fact that her tribe was always low on food, she developed some not-so-fortunate traits. While she has never been diagnosed with anything in her life, she does express some signs of mental illness, though the way the Freljord is run makes it difficult to convince her of her own struggles  —  the strong survive, and the weak perish. Admitting to not only herself, but to someone else that there is something wrong with her mind would therefore be a huge blow. Not only that, but mental illness as a whole is not something that is really talked about, let alone acknowledged at all, in the Freljord.
So, without further ado, let’s dive into some of Sejuani’s biggest struggles.
Under a read more for highly triggering content  (  See the tags.  )
Eating habits. Ever since Sejuani’s mother left the Winter’s Claw the tribe has suffered, first because of its lack of a Warmother to lead it, and then because as much as she tries, Sejuani hasn’t been able to recover it to its former glory  —  least of all now that it is growing larger by the week. There simply haven’t been enough resources to go around. Oftentimes, Claw tribesmen go to sleep without dinner, and Sejuani is no exception to this. It’s not always because there isn’t food enough for her, but more so for the following reasons: 1.) If her men don’t eat, she has a hard time doing it. 2.) She may choose to starve herself as punishment for whatever it is she deems she’s failed to do that day. It could be a failed hunt, a raid that didn’t go well, letting her people down, etc. etc. 3.) Having spent basically her entire life with a strained relationship to food, sometimes it is just impossible for her to eat due to the fact that hunger is no longer something she feels, and should she try to eat despite it, she gets sick. Which then causes a downward spiral because if she throws up, that is one wasted meal  ;  something the tribe cannot afford. She would rather give her meal to someone else who haven’t eaten in a hot second, than risk vomiting.
All in all there is a massive pressure on Sejuani to provide food for the tribe, but also to stay alive so she can do just that. And that requires eating. She gets by on basically the bare minimum is what I am saying.
Anger issues. It’s no secret that Sejuani is a loaded gun. She may blow up over the smallest of things, and she is every bit the fearless warrior her reputation speaks of. Her short temper stems largely from the physical and verbal abuse she went through growing up. She was constantly belittled, hit, and reminded of how little she was worth to her grandmother. When Hejian’s hand turned to a fist, Sejuani knew she was going to be punished somehow, almost always for something that didn’t even have anything to do with her, or was otherwise out of her hands completely. Sejuani learned early on in life that violence was the answer to most of her struggles, though she has always tried to channel that rage that burns inside her into combat of some sort, be it fighting other tribes or hunting and killing prey. She tries to be productive about it like that.
However her temper cannot be controlled, oftentimes not even by herself. She is known to pick fights over small things, and get angry when things don’t go her way. When she gets angry, her hands ball into fists, just like Hejian’s did. Her eyes flare up like azure fire, and she grits her teeth and growls. She has many warning signals. Throughout her adult life, she has only known a few people who can calm her down when she starts to get mad, Strid being one of them, as well as Lena, in her verse.
Abandonment issues. This one is pretty self explanatory. Not only was she abandoned by her own mother, but she was by the love of her life as well. So two of the most instrumental people in her life have left her behind. The fact that Ashe seems to have a good life now with all that she could want, only rubs salt in Sejuani’s wounds. Sejuani has developed a very real fear of being abandoned by those she cares about and has a hard time growing attached to anyone for this reason. She will often avoid someone should she develop strong feelings for them, simply dodge them like the plague. That way, she won’t lose them. Or so she tells herself.
Alcoholism. One of the ways her baggage manifests is Sejuani’s unhealthy relationship with alcohol. But all Freljordians drink like there’s no tomorrow, right? Wrong, but tell yourself what you must to get through the day, Sejuani. She drinks pretty much all day, though she isn’t always drunk  —  her alcohol resistance is quite high. She’d have to down a lot of drinks back to back to get affected. However, the amount of alcohol she consumes is still worrisome, and not good for her at all. It’s gotten to the point where her “ normal ” is when she’s had a few drinks, and she will start to experience withdrawal symptoms should she go too long without any.
Coping strategies. Sejuani doesn’t really have many healthy coping strategies. She drinks, she has a lot of sex just for the sake of feeling something and instead of waiting for others to leave her she will leave them behind first. Though she does channel her anger into being productive, and while that may be a good thing for the most part, it is not addressing the issue. She needs someone who will sit down with her and to just be able to unpack all that she struggles with, but she doesn’t want this, as she perceives her struggles as weaknesses  —  if she even acknowledges them to begin with.
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mordysworld · 1 year
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Perfectly Perfect: A script for a short film
The following is the drafted script adaptation of my short story 'Perfectly Perfect'. A Warning: This script contains themes of death, suicidal ideation and intrusive thoughts.
INT. HOUSE - EVENING
CUT TO A BIRDS EYE SHOT OF A PLATE OF FOOD, IT LOOKS DRY AND BLAND- THE PLATE CONSISTS OF COLD LOOKING PEAS, DRY CHICKEN AND CARROTS. THE SHOT IS STILL, CLEAR AND BRIGHT.
UNKNOWN LADY'S: 
How was work dear?
THE AUDIO IS MUDDIED AND SOUNDS LIKE THE LISTENER IS UNDERWATER. 
A clock can be heard ticking in the background but somehow louder than the other sounds in the room.
UNKNOWN LADY'S VOICE: 
Honey..?
THE MAN (V.O.):
Oh right, she's speaking to me
THE MAN(CONT'D) 
It was fine dear... same as always John got permission to move forward with his pitch in his meeting today
THE MAN (O.S.) 
It was my idea, I got zero credit, it's fine.
UNKNOWN LADY 
Oh that's good. 
(An uncomfortable silence stretches between them)
The bland boiled carrots on his plate stare mockingly at him so he picks up a fork full eating and killing them, if he focused hard enough he could taste their blood. (a dribble of crimson blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth he wipes it up licking his fingers) ( The clock continues steadily clicking )
THE MAN (V.O.): 
I wonder, if water perhaps enjoys being drunk? If it finds a spark of joy from travelling down the gullet of those who are lucky enough to come by it?
He takes a sip of his glass of water, a scowl on his face as he replaces the glass on its coaster.
THE MAN(V.O.) (CONT'D):
Impossible. It was foolish of me to even ask such a question... How could anyone truly feel happiness in this awful world? A world where intrusive thoughts are a regular occurrence, where even if you wanted to you couldn't feel anything, a world in which everyday is a struggle- where waking up feels like a burden- where a coherent thought is hard to come by- WHERE THAT DAMN CLOCK WON’T STOP TICKING
( The Clock continues to click)
The man's eyes refocus and he stares down at his plate, heart racing. He sees a small collection of eyeballs on his plate- he eats them without a second thought.
THE MAN(V.O.):
I want to leave.
THE VOICE:
Then leave.
SHOT OF THE TABLE SHOWS THAT THE LADY AND A CHILD ARE HAPPILY CHATTING AWAY. THE MAN IS CONFUSED AS HE SHRUGS AND WALKS AWAY, THE CAMERA FOLLOWS.
INT. BEDROOM.
ALL SHOTS UP TO THIS POINT HAVE BEEN STILL, STABLE SHOTS.
The man sighs as he enters his room, not one of relief but one of tiredness. He slowly but surely strips off his clothes. A ringing sound can be heard as he stares at the clothes in his hand, a muffled distant screaming can be heard. 
Shot from the perspective of the Laundry basket as we see him look at the clothing before throwing it in the basket before turning away.
INT. BATHROOM - NIGHT
The man walks into the bathroom now naked; we see him glance at the shower.
THE MAN:
What a pain.
Mistakenly he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, flinching at his own reflection.
THE VOICE:
You’ve let yourself go… you've been eating too much again haven't you?
The Man refuses to respond.
THE VOICE:
Pity. You looked so handsome when you were younger…why does everything on wither as time moves forward? Everyone and everything is destined for this disgusting decay. What's the little one's name? It honestly doesn't matter- she will grow up to  be just like you, I can see it in her eyes. What sort of man are you that you can't even spare your own child from this suffering? I thought a man's job was to protect his family?
The voice takes a moment of pause from its degradation
THE VOICE(cont’d):
Pathetic.
He stepped under the cold shower water, barely twitching at the temperature
SHOT OF THE MAN TURNING THE NOZZLE ON THE SHOWER TO COLD AND WE SEE HIM JUST STAND BLANKLY STARING AT THE WALL.
Camera shows blatant and dark eye bags and a deep set frown but his eyes look soulless as if all the life had been sucked out of him. He collapses in a heap on the floor of the shower, falling to his knees.
He appears lost in thought, scratching at his arm- he comes to and realises that he’s bleeding.
THE VOICE:
You should kill yourself
THE MAN:
I know
THE VOICE: 
Then do it, coward
THE MAN:
Not now
THE VOICE:
You're a miserable excuse for a human being, you know that?
THE MAN:
I think I want  meatballs for dinner tomorrow. I’ll have to ask if she can pick up the ingredients.
THE VOICE:
I hope you choke and die on your food you pig.
The man starts to sob silently, curling in on himself and laying in the foetal position. His tears and blood mixed together with the shower water.
When he finally gets up it is visibly much later than when he entered the shower.
A long uncomfortable shot ensues, the camera remains still across the room watching the man attempt to move.
He crawls over to the counter to heave himself up using all his strength, it shows on his contorted face. Forgoing the towel he attempts to walk back into his room but he collapses to the ground before he reaches his bed. His cuts were deep and still seeping blood. He
INT. HOUSE - EVENING
CUT TO A BIRDS EYE SHOT OF A PLATE OF FOOD, IT LOOKS DRY AND BLAND- THE PLATE CONSISTS OF COLD LOOKING PEAS, DRY CHICKEN AND CARROTS.
UNKNOWN LADY'S VOICE 
How was work dear?
THE AUDIO IS MUDDIED AND SOUNDS LIKE THE LISTENER IS UNDERWATER. 
(A clock can be heard ticking in the background but somehow louder than the other sounds in the room)
THE MAN (V.O.):
Was that clock always so loud?
UNKNOWN LADY'S: 
(hesitantly)Honey..?
THE MAN (V.O.):
Oh right, she's speaking to me
THE MAN(CONT'D) 
It was fine dear... same as always John got permission to move forward with his pitch in his meeting today
THE MAN (O.S.) 
It was my idea, I got zero credit, it's fine.
UNKNOWN LADY: 
Oh that's good. 
(An uncomfortable silence stretches between them)
The bland boiled carrots on his plate stare mockingly at him so he picks up a fork full eating and killing them, if he focused hard enough he could taste their blood. A dribble of crimson blood leaks out of the corner of his mouth he wipes it up licking his fingers ( The clock continues steadily clicking )
THE MAN (V.O.): 
I wonder, if water perhaps enjoys being drunk? If it finds a spark of joy from travelling down the gullet of those who are lucky enough to come by it?
He takes a sip of his glass of water, a scowl on his face as he replaces the glass on its coaster.
THE MAN(V.O.) (CONT'D):
Impossible. It was foolish of me to even ask such a question... How could anyone truly feel happiness in this awful world? A world where intrusive thoughts are a regular occurrence, where even if you wanted to you couldn't feel anything, a world in which everyday is a struggle- where waking up feels like a burden- where a coherent thought is hard to come by- WHERE THAT DAMN CLOCK WON’T STOP TICKING
( The Clock continues to click)
The man's eyes refocus and he stares down at his plate, heart racing. He sees a small collection of eyeballs on his plate- he eats them without a second thought.
THE MAN(V.O.):
I want to leave.
THE VOICE:
Then leave.
SHOT OF THE TABLE SHOWS THAT THE LADY AND A CHILD ARE HAPPILY CHATTING AWAY. THE MAN IS CONFUSED AS HE SHRUGS AND WALKS AWAY, THE CAMERA FOLLOWS.
INT. BEDROOM/BATHROOM - EVENING
ALL SHOTS UP TO THIS POINT HAVE BEEN STILL, STABLE SHOTS.
The man sighs as he enters his room, not one of relief but one of tiredness. He slowly but surely strips off his clothes. A ringing sound can be heard as he stares at the clothes in his hand, a muffled distant screaming can be heard. 
Shot from the perspective of the Laundry basket as we see him look at the clothing before throwing it in the basket before turning away.
The man walks into the bathroom now naked; we see him glance at the shower.
THE MAN:
What a pain.
Mistakenly he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, flinching at his own reflection.
THE VOICE:
You’ve let yourself go… you've been eating too much again haven't you?
The Man refuses to respond.
THE VOICE:
Pity. You looked so handsome when you were younger…why does everything on wither as time moves forward? Everyone and everything is destined for this disgusting decay. What's the little one's name? It honestly doesn't matter- she will grow up to  be just like you, I can see it in her eyes. What sort of man are you that you can't even spare your own child from this suffering? I thought a man's job was to protect his family?
The voice takes a moment of pause from its degradation
THE VOICE(cont’d):
Pathetic.
He steps under the cold shower water, barely twitching at the temperature
SHOT OF THE MAN TURNING THE NOZZLE ON THE SHOWER TO COLD AND WE SEE HIM JUST STAND BLANKLY STARING AT THE WALL.
Camera shows blatant and dark eye bags and a deep set frown but his eyes look soulless as if all the life had been sucked out of him. He collapses in a heap on the floor of the shower, falling to his knees.
He appears lost in thought, scratching at his arm- he comes to and realises that he’s bleeding.
THE VOICE:
You should kill yourself
THE MAN:
I know
THE VOICE: 
Then do it, coward
THE MAN:
Not now
THE VOICE:
You're a miserable excuse for a human being, you know that?
THE MAN:
I think I want  meatballs for dinner tomorrow. I’ll have to ask if she can pick up the ingredients.
THE VOICE:
I hope you choke and die on your food you pig.
The man starts to sob silently, curling in on himself and laying in the foetal position. His tears and blood mixed together with the shower water.
When he finally gets up it is visibly much later than when he entered the shower.
A long uncomfortable shot ensues, the camera remains still across the room watching the man attempt to move.
He crawls over to the counter to heave himself up using all his strength, it shows on his contorted face. Forgoing the towel he attempts to walk back into his room but he collapses to the ground before he reaches his bed. His cuts were deep and still seeping blood. He passes out and the screen fades to black. The credits play over top of a translucent background where you can just make out the scene of an ambulance lights flashing brightly, sombre jazz plays over it.
0 notes
earlgreydream · 3 years
Text
mission.
| stucky x reader | fluff | smut |
oh no, there’s only one bed trope
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“James!” You screamed, your voice getting carried off in the wind. You kicked backwards, knocking free from the grip of a Hydra agent. You ducked as a bullet whizzed past your head, slicing through the skull of your enemy.
A hand wrapped around your arm and dragged you forward, forcing you to break into a run. Blinded by the storm, your lost your footing in the slick mud. If it wasn’t for Steve’s grip on you, you would’ve fell face first into the ground.
“Be careful!” The shout was stressed, impatient.
You swore and ran through the field after the soldiers, nearly tripping over the uneven ground. Your muscles were burning along with your lungs, and the rain was so thick you couldn’t see.
“We can’t drive in this!”
“We don’t have another option!” Steve shouted back, his grip on you tightening as he helped you onward.
The mission had gone to absolute shit before it even started. Stark sent you, Steve, and Bucky to hunt down a Hydra agent, which you’d just taken out in the field. However, he’d gotten wind of your arrival, prepared with an elite security team you had to get through. They had nearly succeeded in killing Bucky, throwing the three of you off from the beginning.
The storm had made everything nearly impossible, and it wrecked any chance of you getting home soon. No plane, not even one designed by Stark, could fly you overseas when you couldn’t see two feet ahead of you.
You couldn’t see Bucky, or Steve really, only knowing he was there by the hand on your arm. You trusted Bucky was nearby, making his way back to the car with you to try to get out of the middle of nowhere.
You were exhausted, hardly able to stand, let alone run through the storm, covered in heavy mud and gear. You finally made it to the car, your shaking hands coming into contact with cold steel.
The three of you managed to get inside the vehicle, though it didn’t feel like it was going to do any good. You were soaked from the rain and covered in mud and blood, and you were shivering from the icy temperature.
Bucky turned the key in the ignition, deciding that you needed to drive to shelter, even if he couldn’t see the road ahead.
“Fuck! Bucky!” You yelled as cold air blew directly on you from the AC, making you feel like you were going to freeze death.
“I’m fucking taking care of it, Y/N!” Bucky snapped back, raising his voice at you.
“Hey, that’s enough, Buck.” Steve interjected, despite being on edge himself. Bucky turned off the air, pulling out into the road and blindly inching back toward the small eastern-European town.
“I’m sorry.” He finally said through clenched teeth, and you shook your head.
“It’s fine, we’re all just exhausted.”
You didn’t even realize you were clung to Steve until Bucky parked, somehow managing to get you three to a motel, alive. You muttered an apology, grabbing your backpack off the floor and running into the front office.
The desk manager eyed the three of you warily, and you sagged against the wall, struggling to stay upright. The floor felt like it was rocking under you, and you grabbed Steve’s arm to try to steady yourself. You were so cold, you felt like you were about to freeze to death.
Bucky started speaking to the main in fluent Russian, the conversation growing sharper and more annoyed as they argued. You didn’t understand what the problem was, and you started to cry, overly exhausted, dirty, and weak.
“Stevie,” Bucky whined at Steve to take care of you while he continued to deal with the manager.
“Y/N, take deep breaths,” Steve hugged your shivering body to his, and Bucky gestured at you and shouted at the manager.
He flashed his gun before he was finally given a room key, and he threw the door open, motioning the two of you to follow. Steve carried your backpack for you, gently pushing you after Bucky and praying you didn’t collapse.
Bucky unlocked a room, pushing you inside ahead of him, and you stared at the one bed. You were too tired to truly care, lethargy threatening to drag you under.
“It was all they had. He’d barely give me this last room.” Bucky’s tone was apologetic, albeit frustrated.
“It’s fine, one thing at a time,” Steve sighed, and you dropped to the floor, working your boots off.
“I need a minute, you can shower first,” you said hoarsely, and the boys nodded, Bucky tenderly touching your head as he walked to the small bathroom, tearing off his ruined clothes. He was quick, and Steve was in and out right after, both of them clean in under fifteen minutes. You sat on the floor, trying to catch your breath and drink the water bottle that Bucky had forced into your hand.
“Can you stand for a shower?” Bucky asked you, and you nodded, taking his hand as he helped you off the floor. You grabbed your one change of dry clothes from your backpack and set them on the sink.
“Don’t lock it please, Y/N,” Steve called, worried you would collapse.
“M’not!”
You stripped out of your ruined uniform, discarding it with the boys’. You stepped under the hot water, a moan escaping you as you finally got some relief from the freeze deep in your bones. You washed the mud off of your body and out of your hair, nearly crying from the relief of the hot water.
“Oh my god, fuck!” You shrieked when your clothes fell off the counter and onto the wet floor, the drain not doing much good.
“Y/N?!” Bucky’s concerned voice came as he cracked the door open.
“I’m fine, I...” you started crying again, feeling defeated and worn out.
“Doll, what happened...” Bucky’s voice was soft, the rare term of endearment making you cry harder.
“I dropped my clothes!” You shut off the water and peered around the dingy curtain. You grabbed a dry towel from his hand, staying behind the curtain as you dried off, the steam keeping you warm.
“Just leave your clothes. You can have Steve’s sweater. That’s all we’ve got, but it’ll be big, so...”
You were wrapped in the towel as you took the fluffy white sweater from Bucky, pulling it over your head once you were given some privacy.
It fell almost to your knees, the sleeves covering your hands. You wished you had something to put on under it, but this was the best you could do right now. You squeezed the moisture out of your hair before joining the boys in the small motel room.
“You okay?” Steve asked, and you nodded, thanking him for the sweater. They had only managed to raid a vending machine outside, and you were handed a package of crisps and another bottle of water. The television in the corner was playing some Russian telenovela quietly, the scratch of the fuzzy connection interrupting it.
You sat on the edge of the bed, eating the crisps and wishing you had some real food to satiate your stomach ache. You pulled an extra band from Bucky’s wrist, tying your damp hair up on top of your head, getting it off your neck.
Your two best friends wouldn’t let you lay down until you’d finished the second bottle of water, paranoid of your possible dehydration. You ignored their anxious nurturing, getting under the covers as soon as you’d finished it.
You had never felt so exhausted in your life, and your eyelids were heavy as they fell closed. The two super soldiers laid down on either side of you, surrounding you with warmth. They were like two individual heaters, pressed against your back and front in the small bed. 
You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but it was pitch-black when you woke up. You stirred, your eyes still heavy with sleep. The storm was loud outside, covering the soft breathing of the soldiers.
You felt metal between your thighs, Bucky’s hand gently rubbing your inner thigh.
“James?” You murmured, stirring.
“Mm?” He was barely awake. Steve’s arm tightened around your waist, holding you closer. You rubbed your eyes, snuggling deeper into Steve’s soft sweater.
Your mind was thick with sleepiness, and you were still stuck in a half-dream state. It was warm, dark, and heady, surrounding you in a settled calmness.
You felt Bucky’s fingers trail higher, finding you bare after the clothing mishap. You didn’t register what was happening at first until you felt him sliding along your skin, finding your bundle of nerves. You whimpered softly, your mind melting and your legs parting even though you didn’t know what was happening.
“James, what are you doing?” you whispered breathlessly.
“I can’t keep my hands off of you, doll. You’re just too irresistible,” Bucky murmured into your chest, curling up closer into you. His lips ghosted over your neck, hot kisses dotting along your skin. Your body ignited with the touch, and you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away.
“Wanna feel you,” Steve’s sleepy voice hummed through your hair, his hand moving up your sweater up to your chest. A noise escaped you as you felt Steve slowly begin to grind against your backside, hardening against your soft skin. You realized they were naked too, and you began dripping on Bucky’s fingers.
“Sweet girl, does that feel good?” he smiled against your throat, marking you up with hickeys. 
You nodded, tipping your head down to kiss him. It was a bit hesitant at first, but you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into Bucky. Your lips molded together, his gentle movements easing any doubt in your mind. Steve squeezed your breasts, teasing your nipples and making you sigh against Bucky. He slid his tongue past your lips, the warm muscle exploring your mouth. Metal fingers pressed slowly inside of you without resistance, stretching you out and rubbing your velvety skin.
Your soft sighs and moans filled the motel room, and you reached behind you to pull Steve into a searing kiss. Bucky pulled your leg over his, giving them better access. You whined a complaint when Bucky pulled his fingers from your heat, causing the boys to laugh softly.
“I’m just going to get you ready for Steve, doll. Is that alright?” Bucky’s silver eyes locked with yours, searching for any hesitation.
“Yes, but... go slow?” you whispered shyly.
“We’ll be gentle, sweetheart,” Steve promised, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder. You trusted the men, knowing they’d never hurt you, not purposely. Steve’s hand smoothed over your side, kissing the skin of your shoulder that peeked out above the neckline of his sweater. 
Bucky’s slick fingertip traced around the tight ring of muscle before carefully easing it in. Your fingers snaked into Steve’s hair, tugging lightly as Bucky worked to loosen you up. 
“I’m not hurting you, am I?” Bucky asked when your face squeezed up as he added a third finger.
“No, it just feels... strange,” you squirmed between the boys. Steve dropped his hand between your legs to distract you from the discomfort Bucky was causing. You slowly relaxed around him, smiling into Bucky’s gentle kisses. You adjusted your leg over his hips, pulling the soldier closer and smoothing your hands over his chest. 
You were restless, anxious for them to be inside of you. Your quiet begs sent shudders of anticipation through the boys, giving in without hesitation.
“I’m going to slide in first, it’ll go easier,” Bucky waited for your permission and you agreed, tugging on his long dark hair. He loved it, a deep growl coming from his throat as you pulled on the locks. Your giggles abruptly cut off as Bucky wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling you close as he sank inside of you. He mumbled profanities in Russian, overwhelmed by the feeling of your warmth surrounding his cock. Your leg draped over him allowed him to get a deep angle, feeling like he was splitting you open in the best way. He was bigger than anyone in the past, and you swore to yourself you could never go back after this.
“You’re fucking huge, James,” you whined into his ear, gasping as your words caused him to thrust against you, the friction sending electricity to your nerves. Steve laughed at that, waiting for Bucky to still before rubbing his leaking head against your other entrance. 
“Just breathe, okay?” Steve could see the nervousness in your eyes, even in the dark. You hid your face in Bucky’s chest as Steve pushed inside of you, squeezing your ass in his large hands. Bucky felt the friction against him, and he struggled not to thrust into you. 
The foreign fullness had your thoughts disconnecting, your body being overwhelmed with arousal. Your loud moans filled the silence, and you squeezed around them as Steve’s hips met yours. 
They only gave you a moment to adjust before both soldiers started moving, thrusting in and out of you, making you scream with mind-numbing pleasure. Bucky’s movements became more forceful, pulling sounds from the three of you. You couldn’t think or move, your only ability was to take it, soaking it up and igniting your body. You throbbed around them, throwing your head back against Steve. 
“You feel so good, sweetheart, you’re so tight and warm around us,” he praised, kissing your cheekbone. Your mouth opened with a choked moan, and he connected your lips, moving his tongue against yours. Bucky swore, even more turned on by the sight of his two lovers making out.
He lifted your knee higher, thrusting impossibly deeper. The pressure that had been building snapped, and you screamed as your orgasm hit you like a train. 
“Fuck, I’m so close, doll,” Bucky knew he couldn’t last long as you tightened around him like a vice. 
“Come inside of me, please, I want-” you didn’t finish your sentence as he came, throbbing inside of you as he filled you with hot ropes of release. You were reduced to mindless, incoherent begs, pleading for Steve to do the same. His strong arms held you still against him, keeping you from writhing as he came deep inside of you. Bucky swallowed your screams, and you sank weakly against them as you came down from the high that had all of you wrecked. 
You woke up slightly dazed from the post-sex sleep, exhausted from the mission and getting fucked by the two super-soldiers. You opened your arms with a sleepy whimper, making the boys laugh softly. Bucky pulled you into a hug, letting you drape your arms around his neck and cling to him. 
“How’re you feeling, doll?”
“Like I’ve had the life fucked out of me,” your voice was soft and amused, making them smile tenderly at you.
“In a good way?”
“In the best way,” you assured Steve.
“I want all of our missions to end like that.”
Bucky grinned cheekily, kissing your head and making you giggle. 
“The storm’s let up. I’m sorry, but we’ve got to get you out of bed,” Steve peeled the blankets off, making you cling tighter to Bucky in protest. 
“Your clothes are dry. C’mon, up, now.” Steve slapped your ass, and you slowly let go of Bucky.
“Help me, my legs are weak,” you held Steve’s hands as he assisted you in climbing off the bed.
“We break you?” Bucky teased, and you shook your head. You kissed Steve lightly before getting dressed, opting to leave his sweater on. 
Within an hour, you were on your way back to Stark tower, curled up on the private plane, your head in Bucky’s lap as he stroked his fingers through your hair. 
“So, everything went as planned on the mission?” Stark asked, debriefing with the three of you. You fought back a laugh, and Steve placed a hand on your back.
“Everything went great, Stark. We assassinated the target, and we all made it back alive,” Bucky confirmed.
As the three of you were walking out the door, Stark’s voice made you turn.
“Don’t think I’m stupid, I can tell what the three of you are up to!”
You squealed, running out the door with the super soldiers, away from Tony’s amused judgement. 
2K notes · View notes
lynihana · 2 years
Note
hi luv your work is honestly soooo wholesome 🥺🥺 I am not sure if you are still taking requests atm because I know you are busy plssss pls pls ignore if you have too much <3 I wanted to request maybe a small headcanon or scenario (whichever you can) about Inui, Mikey, and Shinchiro with an s/o who is short (preferably 5’1) and maybe kinda throw in like some teasing from them and all. again your work is amazing and pls stay hydrated and get lots of rest <3
『𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓』
『𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠』 : seishu inui, ‘mikey’ manjiro sano, shinichiro sano.
『𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞』 : fluff.
『𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬』 : ooc characters, a bit suggestive, cursing, not proofread.
『𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞』 : I decided to do headcanons and short scenarios and also sorry for the delay anonnie! </3 tagging the shortass mf @cakeysposts @narcissusstuff why did this took me so long to finish....
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: SEISHU INUI.
:⌇➭ ok listen, seishu is 177 cm or (5'10) and you who's barely 5'3?? Oh my gosh. expect some light teasing from this man right here but don't expect him to go cross the line because he knows when to stop.
:⌇➭ seishu would lift you up just to grab something on the higher cabinet but not without saying “you know your look so cute when you jump and try to reach for something high, makes me love you more” <3
:⌇➭ if someone is hitting on you and seishu sees that he would literally snatch you and throw you on his shoulder gently while glaring at the person who was flirting at you and he told him to fuck off in the most unnicest way <3
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“seiiii!” you said to the sunflower blondie that's currently carrying you on his shoulder, this is the 15th time this week and it's only wednesday! “nope, ain't never gonna put you down unless I want to which is not gonna happen anytime soon.” you pouted at him.
Trying to wiggle out his hold that seems to be impossible to escape you still tried anyways but you felt a soft slap on your ass “did you just slap my ass?” you asked seishu “yup!, sorry about that and don't even try to escape also we're getting food anyways! It's lunch time and I'm hungry, I'm guessing you are too?” cue your stomach starts to rumble “fiiinneee you win this time! you also better pay for the food!” you whined and said to the male “of course. It would be very unrespectful of me to take you out and make you pay for your own food after all.”
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: ‘MIKEY’ MANJIRO SANO.
⩩┊Mikey is 162cm (5'3) meaning he's literally a bit taller
⩩┊we all know Mikey loves teasing people and he doesn't meet much people that's shorter than him and you being shorter kind of give him some more superior and dominant vibes
⩩┊mikey loves teasing you but at the same time scared teasing you about your height because honestly, when you're mad it's like you're another person and Mikey is scared
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“yo mikey where the fuck is my phone?” you looked at mikey who's currently eating some sweets and of course dorayaki “hm? Why are you asking me?” you sighed “Look mikey just give me back my phone I really need to join the (game) event. It only happens once a year! so I can't miss that shit. and by the way did you just ask me a question when I asked you?” mikey looked at you with a offended look and if you were one of the people who don't know him that much, you'll probably assume that he's literally offended ‘This again?’ you sighed again “bubs I swear I didn't hide it! can't you see that I'm eating my food peacefully for the past 2 hours?” mikey sighed looking at you disappointed “mikey this trick won't work. I know you hid it somewhere.” you gave him a cold look and mikey knows it's time to say the truth “fine... it's at the top of the refrigerator..” Mikey pouted at you and you looked at him dumb founded “okay Mikey what the actual fuck? You do know that none of us can reach the top of that huge ass refrigerator right? AND ALSO HOW THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN REACHED THAT PLACE” you said “ehe....about that....i actually don't know....” mikey scratched his head and he looked up seeing you holding your slippers “hahaha...y-y/n we can talk this out r-right..?” you tch at him “I'm gonna miss that event if draken don't come here fast....you do know that right...?” you smiled at him menacingly and Mikey gulped as he starts to sweat and then he suddenly felt your slipper hit his head harshly and you continued to do that as Mikey let's out the most girliest scream you've ever heard
Looks like you'll need to call draken again for the th time this day
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: ‘SHINICHIRO SANO’
⩩┊HELP WHAT?? THIS MF IS 182cm (6'0) KFKWK and then there's you with your short ass
⩩┊i see shinichiro as that "sorry I did it accidentally" and the type who would apologize to you for teasing you about your height because he thinks that he's being mean to you and rude.
⩩┊This man would legit be careful around you because he's scared that he might step on you and you found that very stupidly cute
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You were struggling to see the dancers that are currently performing on the streets in Shibuya where you're currently in “Someone literally need to guide all the short people on the front to see” you mumbled and luckily shinichiro heard you “if you want to see them then why didn't you just told me?” you dumbfounded at him “if I don't want to see them I wouldn't put too much effort jumping and all this shit” shinichiro nodded at you “mhmmm, ok then!” you sighed again “let's just go now, there's no way we're gonna see them–” you suddenly feel someone lifting you in their arms “eh?! What the fuck!” you bit the arm of the one who's lifting you “ow! Hey love! It's only me!” shinichiro told you and you saw that it is him, you unlatch your mouth off his arm “you dumbass you could've warned me.” and shinichiro just laughed at you “ahaha sorry 'bout that!” you sighed at him and shinichiro place you on his shoulders “why are you placing me here–” shinichiro cutted you off “you wanted to see them right?, So why not take advantage of my height?” he smiled at you and you nodded your head to him as a way of saying thank you because you're too embarrassed to say it
——————————————————
and another reason that shinichiro did this is because he wants to feel your thighs around his head but you don't have to know that :))
but goddamn your thighs are looking so delicious so shinichiro decided to bit your thighs gently
“ack! what the fuck shinichiro–”
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luvlyrv · 3 years
Text
Uncover | Seulgi x F!Reader
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Genre/warnings: fluff, angst, homophobia (religious)
Summary: You quickly learn that while it was easy to be dishonest with yourself, it was nearly impossible to lie to Seulgi.
Word Count: 4.7k A/N: This has been something wracking up in my brain since June. It's kind of embarrassing that it's taken this long but it's a lovechild of my emotions. Enjoy, and I hope you feel things.
Date: 9/21/21
You can't imagine a day without her, because she's always been there. Right from the day you could remember. You bet that she could be your last memory too.
Your first memory has you sitting in the living room playing with your toys as you anxiously eye the other child in the room. Some strangers had rung your doorbell and your mom and dad had welcomed them into the house. Now they were in the kitchen, their voices blending into each other in the background.
The small girl in front of you decided to take the liberty of picking up your toys and playing with them. She ran around playing in the imaginary world in her head. You think that she's having fun and that you want to have fun too, but you can't seem to move from your position. As you slowly try to build up the courage to talk to her she approaches you.
She had been glancing at you from the corner of her eyes too. She watched your shy self idly playing all alone. She found it hard to approach you, scared of you pushing her away or being mean, but she thought maybe it was worth it. You could be a friend.
"Hi!" The strange girl is right in front of you with one of your stuffed toys in hand. "Do you want to play with me? I'm Seulgi!"
"I'm Y/N…"
For the rest of the hour the two of you chased each other in a shared adventure. Enraptured in your own little wonderland until your parents had to pull you apart.
Soon it became a ritual for those strangers, who you later learned to be Mr. and Mrs. Kang, to visit your house. Along them was always their daughter Seulgi, who wouldn't hesitate to pull you into a large hug right before starting a new adventure with you.
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You slightly trail behind your best friend. You smile at yourself from the sight of Seulgi happily skipping, somehow filled with even more vigor than she usually has. She's always been filled with much more energy than you, amazed by even the smallest of things. You suppose something truly spectacular must be happening today for her to feel so extra. She turns her head over to look at you, flashing you her perfect smile with her perfect cheeks. The ones you always want to squish when you remind her of how cute she is.
She continues to bounce but slows down to be by your side. One of the favorite parts of your day, and hopefully hers too, would be the peaceful walk the two of you would always share before and after school. It always reminded you of how close you are. How you can always rely on her to listen and to brighten up your day.
She bites her lip while still smiling. She must be thinking about something.
"What's got you so excited today?" You ask her with a giggle.
"Guess!" She pesters leaning into you. A familiar feeling emerges in your chest from the contact.
"You know I'm really bad at guessing…"
"Well why can't you try?"
"All I know is that it has to be something really special, right?" You decide to lean back and push her a little as a tease.
"It is! Mom and dad bought me my favorite ice cream that we can share later today!"
You laugh at her as she continues giving her dumb smile. Seulgi moves in front of you with her eyebrows raised, waiting to hear your opinion about the news.
"Is that it?" You ask still laughing. She pouts a little.
"What do you mean 'is that it'? It's my favorite! And I get to share it with you!" With that you pull Seulgi in for a side hug.
"I'm kidding, I'm excited too."
You enjoy listening to whatever nonsense Seulgi thinks about and decides to spill to you as you guys continue walking. You feel a bit disheartened at the sight of the school building, but looking at Seulgi again is enough to make the disappointment go away.
As much as you wish it did, your schedule wasn't entirely with your best friend. Instead you had to split up as you entered the school grounds to your different classes. Fortunately you shared at least some classes with her, and most importantly lunch. So when you sit down at your desk with nobody talking to you, you don't feel too lonely. The anticipation of being reunited with Seulgi was enough for you.
As usual Seulgi finds your figure sitting down at a lunch table and immediately rushes towards you. She taps your shoulder as she sits down, hurriedly opening up her lunch box, her beastly appetite striking again.
"Oooh." She oogles as the both of you breathe in the sudden aroma of homemade food. You peer over to look at the contents of her lunch box. You swore that you can see the steam coming off of her rice.
"Open up!" Seulgi playfully demands of you. You oblige as she not so carefully throws a grape your way. It would've been lost if you didn't move your head to make up for the completely inaccurate trajectory.
"How are you still bad at this?" You ask her after chewing.
"Maybe I just like to see you work for your food." You laugh at her response as you carefully pick up a spring roll from your box and place it in hers.
"Mom fried it this morning so you better enjoy."
You enjoy the long-time tradition of sharing food and eating in relative silence. That time was short lived though as a small group of girls joined your table. You didn't mind them much, you'd even consider them casual friends. At the same time though, they were bothering you.
You found it strange that despite finally being with Seulgi you felt so lonely. So lost.
Seulgi's popular, you know that. A lot of people try to befriend her and fight for her attention. Being the social butterfly she is she never hesitated to say hello back and return the friendliness. By proxy you met a lot of nice people, a lot of not so nice people, and more. They never really stuck by for you though. They stayed for Seulgi.
You wish you understood why you were so bothered by those that stayed. Why you were always feeling jealous recently. You wonder if it's natural to feel so intensely sick when you watch your best friend's attention be pulled away by several different girls at a time, or laugh at a guys joke. Well, maybe you do know why.
You quietly sigh and push the thought away, instead trying to join in the chatter and laugh with everyone at the table. Just as you were about to calm down and ease into the group a sudden large group of guys and girls approach. One boy in particular seems to be leading the pack. You purse your lips as you silently watch them come over. Seulgi absent-mindedly continues talking, completely unaware of what was about to occur.
You tighten your hands into a ball as a feeling bubbles inside you. You can't place what it is. Is it fear? Anger? Jealously? It's probably both.
The boy also tightens his hands as they grip onto his shirt. You watch him bite his lip and see how a red color crawls up his neck and reaches the tips of his ears. You hold in a breath as he finally arrives at the table and Seulgi looks up at him.
"S-Seulgi." He barely manages to say her name aloud.
"Huh?" She looks at him cluelessly but gives him her full attention anyways.
"I like you! A lot! So if you can, please go out with me!" The boy's words spill out, as if his mouth was a floodgate holding them back. He reaches behinds him and quickly bends over to give Seulgi a piece of red paper, shaped like a heart. He probably wrote about his feelings extensively on it.
Your eyes had been focused on the love-stricken boy. It's hard for you to move your eyes towards Seulgi. You realize now what you're feeling. You fear what you'll see when you look over at Seulgi to see her reaction.
You notice that she's red too, the color slowly blossoming across her cheeks.
Why does this hurt you?
"Erm, ah, thank you." She says out of politeness and bows back. She gives him a smile and that seems to excite him. "I'll think about your confession."
He eagerly nods his head and leaves the table, happy with the results of his actions. The crowd around him seem to think that was a good ending and started whispering and congratulating him. You look back at your table and the girls are murmuring too.
"He's cute, you should definitely go for him!"
"I heard he treated his last girlfriend nicely. They're still on good terms."
"I've never seen you date before. Isn't now your time to explore?"
Seulgi just takes it all in and nods along with what they say. Your head hangs low as you pick at your food. You don't dare look up. You're scared of seeing Seulgi's face again. You're scared that tears will start falling.
It was like the weight of the world had fallen on your chest.
When the bell dismisses you from lunch you quickly go to your next class. You don't say goodbye to Seulgi or any of the other girls. You feel the light graze of Seulgi's fingertips as she tries to stop you, but you're too fast.
The rest of the school day is you trying to focus on studying, and when your last class finishes you're not sure what you'll do. Everybody leaves the classroom before you as you take some time for yourself. Breathing in and out, you mentally prepare yourself to face Seulgi, as if she was some type of monster.
As you exit the building and get near the gates you see a swarm of people with Seulgi in the center. They're probably there to ask about how she feels about the confession that happened. You sigh and almost contemplate leaving without her, but her eyes quickly find yours. Seulgi politely but abruptly says her goodbyes and runs towards you.
As Seulgi's figure grows nearer there's a feeling of satisfaction. It was like you had won some petty fight, and that feeling was able to erase the fear and nerves you had earlier. A smile grows on your face she reaches your side, your bodies automatically matching your steps. You enjoy the warmth when she locks her arm with yours. Not knowing what to say, you let silence fill the space in between the two of you until Seulgi decided to break it.
"So, do you wanna stay at my place for a bit so we can eat that ice cream?"
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Seulgi's keys jingle as she unlocks her front door. You follow in after her, putting your shoes away as she dashes towards her refrigerator to retrieve the ice cream from the freezer. You walk up towards her as she hands one to you. Naturally, both of you make your way outside into her backyard.
Her backyard is quaint, housing a nice garden that her mother often tends and one large tree. The two of you rest under it, appreciating the winding arms of the apple tree that has always given you and Seulgi refuge. You enjoy the taste of the ice cream, perhaps the shade was enhancing its flavor. Either way you understood why its Seulgi's favorite. The refreshing taste and Seulgi's presence puts a smile on your face. You feel yourself opening up again as you guys joke and talk about your day in between bites and licks. By the time you finish eating your ice cream she had managed to convince you that she needed your extra help in math. As always you agreed to tutor her.
She argues that you should stay underneath the tree as she gets up to throw away the trash. You watch as she goes back inside the house, coming out again with a shiny apple in hand that was picked only a couple days ago. You laugh a little as you ask,
"Still hungry?"
"Enough for a little snack."
She sits by you and takes a rest on your lap. You brush her hair away as you look into her eyes. You can tell she's thinking about something.
"What's wrong?" You ask her.
"Well, I was just wondering, why were you upset earlier?" She says in a serious tone.
"Huh?"
"You didn't even say goodbye at lunch, and don't pretend I didn't notice you almost leaving without me." There's a hint of hurt in her voice. You feel bad for not keeping your emotions in check better, that you threw a fit over something so small.
"Well," Your voice trails off as your mind struggles to think of a response, "what does that boy mean to you?" You decide to ask.
"Oh so now you want to know about that too?" There's only a slight annoyance in her voice as she gives you an eyeroll.
"I'm your best friend, of course I'm curious." Seulgi huffs at your response. She can't blame you for wondering so she takes a moment to think before answering honestly.
"I mean, I guess they weren't wrong. He's kinda cute, and I know it took a lot for him to say that to me. I admire him for it." She said it in a casual manner, as if it wasn't a big deal. Yet for you it meant everything. And it hurt.
You can't control the frown that found its way on your face.
"Hey…" Seulgi quickly gets up from your lap. She has a confused expression as her eyes scans yours. "Hey, what's wrong?" Her voice is soft as she puts a hand on your shoulder.
Your chest is about to explode.
"Do you like him or something?" She continues to grip onto your shoulder with a confused face. She thinks she was the one who did something wrong. That she's stealing someone away from you, but that was so different from the truth.
"No, Seulgi, I-" You pause to think about what you're going to say. Something was about to come out instinctively, and you don't know whether or not that was the best decision.
"You what?"
She presses you for an answer but you're still thinking. You're thinking about you know you can't handle her possibly being close to someone else. To share all of her laughs with that boy. To smile at him and spend time with him. To do all the things that exists between you and her. Living would feel wrong if you were no longer the one she ran to and spilled her secrets to.
Who are you if not Seulgi's biggest and only confidant? The only one who could soothe her in her darkest moments? The one who understands every feeling and thought just by the way she blinks?
You're intimately familiar with the feeling in your chest now. You think that you know what it is too, but that doesn't make you hate it any less. If you could, you'd sacrifice every fiber of your being to forget that feeling and throw it away. To pretend it doesn't exist. But your wishes don't make it go away.
You can be dishonest with yourself, but it's impossible to lie to Seulgi. Not when she looks at you like that.
"I like you."
The words are barely a whisper but she hears. Seulgi's hand falls off your shoulder and you want to cry again. You said the wrong thing. She was going to think you're disgusting. She would never go on a walk with you again. You'll never smell her perfume again. You'll never hear her laughter again. She'd never touch you again. Never speak to you again.
Her mouth is open slack. Your eyes water and you breathe in, readying yourself to apologize profusely. To rescind the blasphemous words that slipped out of your foul mouth.
"I'm so sorry. Just ignore it. I take it back. I think I'm sick or something, you know, delirious. Just ignore it please. Please." Tears begins to fall down your face as Seulgi seemingly snaps back to reality. She reaches towards you, taking your face in her hands as her thumbs swipe away the tears.
"Oh my god, no, don't cry." She begs you to stop, but you can't.
"I-I'm, I'm sorry." The tears continue to make their way down your face. A horrible sickness wells in your stomach and suddenly it feels below freezing as you shake uncontrollably.
"No, don't be." She hugs you tight and whispers in your ear. "I like you too. So stop crying. For me, please." She strokes your back as you cry, hoping that the touch could settle you down.
It takes a while for you to register what she says, but as soon as you do your body seizes up. You think that maybe your everything, your soul, has shattered into a million pieces from Seulgi's words. How in the world could it be true? It couldn't be, not in this universe, not in this timeline.
Yet it was.
When Seulgi hears your sniffling stop and your body letting go of its tension she separates her body from yours. Her eyes are all you can see, and all you can see in them is pain.
"I'm sorry for making you worried." You felt guilty that she had to see you cry. The outburst at school wasn't great either.
"Don't worry about it" She reassures you by taking a hand in hers, stroking it with her delicate fingers to show you her affection. For several moments you allow yourself to breathe. Seulgi also took the time to process everything, and the two of you stared at each other with the new understanding of your feelings. Time seems to pass so slowly when you observe each other with care.
"Seulgi…" You mumble when what felt like years passed. She understood what you meant when she saw the way you looked at her lips.
In that moment you couldn't care anymore. Neither could Seulgi, it seemed, as you pressed your lips on hers and she pressed back. Greedily, the two of you dived in for a taste. Your lips on hers, her tongue in your mouth, it was something you needed. It was a flavor you could relish forever, perhaps this is what sin tasted like. Yes, this is what they'd call it. A sin.
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It feels like everything has changed, but at the same time it hasn't. You still spend every second possible with Seulgi. You spend your time doing the same things. Yet everything feels so different, it feels brand new. Magically, it feels better than before. Is this the power that Seulgi has over you?
Nobody knows, nobody needs to know. After all, you're still Seulgi's bestfriend. Is there really anything different? Maybe just the tighter hugs, the kisses, and the alluring smiles, but that's all. Life is easy this way.
After bidding Seulgi goodbye in front of her house you go home to eat dinner with your family. You come home and greet your parents with a smile as you rush to join them at the dinner table. They share that smile as they take note of your enthusiasm recently. As you eat quietly for a while your mom finally asks you what's been going on to make you shine so much.
"Well..." You debate on what to say. It's been over a month since you confessed to Seulgi but you were still feeling high. You've been holding it for so long you wished you could tell someone. Why not them? You want them to be happy with you too. "I've been dating Seulgi."
"Hm?" Your mom asks you somewhat aggressively for clarification. The sudden stillness in the air alarms you. You look up from your food to see your mom staring as your dad stops eating.
"I-I told her I liked her and she liked me back." You say hoping to clear whatever confusion was occuring. Yet the look on your parents didn't fade.
"What happened?" You father's question sounds more like a statement as he sternly places his utensils down.
"What do you mean what happened? I just told you."
"What happened to make you like this?" His cold voices breaks a little as you notice his eyes tearing up. Was he seriously upset about this?
"You're joking, right?" Your mom joins in with an angry tone.
"Of course I'm not. Mom, she makes me really happy." You struggle to keep yourself composed under the scrutiny of both of your parents.
"Y/N. You are not happy. You're messing with the devil right now and he's fucking up your mind."
"Have you not been doing your prayers?"
You can barely fight for yourself at the dinner table. Your parents argue with and over you, about the causes and the whys. About the signs and what happens next. You cry as you watch your decision unfold into your nightmare.
You knew deep down inside this would happen, but you hoped and prayed that it wasn't true. Perhaps Seulgi made you too happy, too brave. Everything else felt like it was going right so you convinced yourself this would too. You've flown too close to the sun and it backfired. You should've never said anything.
As you try to block out the fight unraveling in front of you you could only scream one thing while crying. "Wouldn't God want to love me? Wouldn't He want you to love me too?"
The scrape of the wooden chair echos as your mom shoots up straight. "I will not house some heathen under my roof. Get out until you realize what you've done to this family."
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It's raining. The relentless torrent of water against your body traps in the coldness from the night, leaving you shivering as your feet move on their own. They move to the only other place that feels like home. The only other person that feels like home.
Soon enough you find yourself in front of a familiar door, incessantly knocking. Muffled footsteps come from the other side of the door as you hear locks being undone until the door finally opens. Instantly there's a look of worry on Mr. Kang's face as he takes in the scene in front of him. He quickly ushers you in and shuts the door.
"Who is it?" A voice rings from upstairs.
"It's Y/N!" Mr. Kang yells back, and soon enough you hear a flurry of footsteps coming downstairs. Seulgi, in her tired glory, appears. She rushes towards you as her father went off to find you some towels to dry off with.
"Oh my god, what happened? Why are you here? Are you okay?" Seulgi's honey eyes are glistening with worry. She doesn't seem to care too much about the fact that you're soaked as she embraces you in a hug. Her body soothes you, its warmth penetrating the cold, wet clothes that clung to your body. You let her ground you back to reality before speaking.
"I don't wanna talk about it right now." You barely manage to get the words out. Your throat feels tight, constricted. Throughout the entire time the tears haven't stopped running down your face as it mixed with the rain water. Seulgi rubs your back as her father comes back. Both of them begin patting you dry.
It feels a bit pathetic as you have two people fretting over you so much, but you're too tired to move. Maybe not even tired, but rather stuck in your own thoughts.
"Go get her something to change into. Are you gonna stay the night?" Her dad asks after making Seulgi go back upstairs to find clothes. You just nod in response and follow her.
When you enter Seulgi's room you find her hastily going through her drawers, finding something comfortable for you to wear. After digging through her clothes she hands you some sweatpants and an oversized shirt, much like her own outfit she was sporting. Your hands are in front of you and holding onto the clothing, yet you still can't seem to move much. Instead your lips tremble as you look at the floor. Seulgi sighs as she nears you, unfolding the clothes and looking at your trembling hands.
"Don't make me dress you." She half-teases. When she realizes you can't will yourself to move a grim line stretches across her face. She wonders what has gotten you so riled up to act this way.
Carefully, she removes your clothes and throws them into the laundry pile. Her fingers innocently skim your body as she puts on the clothes for you, with you doing the minimal movements required to help her. Over the years she's already been more than familiar with your body, and the same for you with her touch. Although you can't vocalize it you silently appreciate the care and intimacy she demonstrates.
Soon enough she finishes though and pulls you towards her bed. Sitting you down she places herself behind you after grabbing a dry towel. She begins to dry your hair while letting you stay silent. Another thing you appreciated about her. She let you take your time.
"Seulgi..." Your voice croaks out as if you've aged several decades.
"Yes?" She stops drying off your hair, instead placing the towel down as she wraps her arms behind you and leans forward.
"They know." She doesn't say anything but her body is still for a minute. Afterwards she finishes drying off your hair, at least one of you can stay calm in this situation. That's what you need. "They told me to come back when I come to my senses."
"It's okay. Everything will be okay. We'll figure something out." You let her guide you down on her bed. Your crying had stopped a while back, but the shock coursing through your body didn't. As Seulgi pulled up the sheets and began to hold you you turned around and looked at her. You looked into the eyes that told you everything. Right now they told you that all Seulgi had on her mind was you.
So you think that you should only think of Seulgi too, because you can always forget about the consequences when you're with her. With a kiss on your forehead she tells you to sleep. She gets impossibly closer to you, holding you tight. Holding you as if you are her treasure.
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The familiar trees and houses enter your view as you drive down your childhood neighborhood. Your fingers tap on the steering wheel as you listen to the song Seulgi played in the car. Out of the corner of your eye you see her smile at the thought of visiting her parents. It's enough to make you happy as well.
As you near her parent's house you pass by your own. It's been years since you've been inside, years since you even saw it. You're okay with it though, but your mind still wonders how your parents are doing. You wonder if the house is lonelier now, if they ever think about the sparse letters and phone calls you have exchanged and how they always were fights. Do they know you and Seulgi are coming to visit? Will they want to see you?
Whatever the answer is it doesn't matter. The only family you have to worry about is the girl right next to you and her parents. You feel thankful that she's your first love and hopeful that she's your last. Despite how many times your lives have separated you two, how you both dated other people and had your own quarrels, you guys came back to each other in the end. She changed you during your formative years and supported you as the two of you have grown up.
No one else can make you uncover these sides and feelings like she does.
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hollyhomburg · 2 years
Note
Li… as much as i can’t handle angst right now, that was worth it. The dissociation was explained in a way I’ve never been able to. Absolutely beautiful writing ❤️
(tw: anorexia, self-harm, suicidal thoughts/attempts, sexual assult/rape)
*big inhale* okay SO- i think she gets worse- like alot worse once it becomes a thing that everyone wants to talk about and help with. outright fighting them at times. i think she does start to hurt herself- as a way to keep it all together maybe she's still fooling herself that they don't know. even though they've all started hovering around her again. she's not self-harming in the physical ways at first, but with her old habits- food restriction.
yoongi barely leaves her side, walks her too and from work. doesn't ask why she takes the long way around instead of walking by that alleyway. goes mostly quiet and can't speak about what happened- what he let happen again despite his best efforts. he never touches her- he doesn't deserve that- doesn't deserve to love her when he's showed her time and time again that he's not worth the title of being her mate. Can't protect her at all- every promise he ever made her as empty as the pit in his chest. yoongi feels no small amount of shame and guilt about it. maybe he even asks the others to walk her to and from work just to make her safer. he doesn't deserve the relief of knowing where she is and that she's okay; because the alphas would be better- make her more protected than just his simple puny beta scent.
would the alpha have tried to hurt you? if he'd smelled one of the others on you more? or was yoongi's scent passable, hardly a mark?
and of course, she takes it the wrong way, thinks that yoongi's finally outgrown his love for her. good- he shouldn't love a wretched broken thing like her anyway. it feels like there's hardly anything left of her that hasn't been taken and broken and smashed. what was it? who was she when she was whole again and how did she heal the first time? why does she feel so lost now? why does healing feel so impossible?
why do things feel so hopeless- like they'll never get better? moreover- why doesn't she care about getting better this time? when did it start to feel like breathing was difficult again, like getting up in the morning was more than she could manage without serious effort. when did she start to repeat things like "just a few more days, just give them that, just as long as you can stand it. smile just like that, they won't know anythings wrong if you just act normal."
they probably try to make her start eating again, maybe she does in starts and spurts. "I'm just not hungry" she tries to lie, and Hobi gets angry, leaning over the table, probably making the bowls shake with how hard his knees hit it. "we all know that's bullshit! we know what you're doing- i know what you're doing and- please baby, just a little." after that, she stops coming out of the nest room at dinner. claims she's tired from work and just goes to sleep. sometimes jungkook sits with her and offers her sips of his protein shake, it's sweet- and its barely enough.
then one day i bet jin wakes to bloodstains on their sheets. All of them notice the faint traces of blood on the sink, on the side, a place where she wouldn't notice to clean it up. they all realize how much she wears sweatshirts now, pulls them over her wrists and her hands in cute little sweater paws that hide the horror she's doing to herself.
they notice how she won't initiate sex anymore and won't take off her shirt in front of them or have group showers. maybe Namjoon finds a stored away pocket knife, a razor from a pack in yoongi's toolbox that he used to use for stripping paint.
he throws it away and keeps an eye on her only to have jin find her tearing through the bathroom for it, hands shaking, hair wild, catching her hands in both of his. "I can't find- I'm fine. i swear I'm fine- i'm just looking for" she looks wildly for anything- something "my hairbrush" but its a pitiful lie. and jin just presses a kiss to her temple, saying "i know, it's okay, we've got you- we- we know"
she looks up at him, goes silent. And doesn't speak again for a while, no matter how they talk to her, all the gentle chiding and begs and barters- they even yell at her eventually though can you really blame Jimin for losing his temper? he's desperate and panicked.
he ends up finding her later and apologizing. and she just looks at him, a blank look on her face, like there's nothing left for her to feel about it- about jimin. about any of them right now. she doesn't have the energy for love, even if her pulse sings under her veins when they touch her. it's self-preservation or maybe its some sick version of self-harm, to deprive herself of love that way.
maybe they're a little divided among themselves over who wants to like- directly intervene and those who thinks she's too fragile. especially once she starts hurting herself. they all have an opinion, Namjoon and jk just about want to take her to a psyche ward- especially jungkook- he feels like the pack is failing her somehow. "when im sick i have to go to the hospital, so why can't we take her? we have too hyungs- she could die" but jin and yoongi aren't convinced it would help- to forcibly admit her, they know it would likely re-traumatize her.
she still spends time with them, lets tae pull her into the libary room for some books and cuddles like usual. keeps reading when she falls alseep on her chest. hiding her face in taes long hair. she's sleeping still enough that tae can gently- gently pull up the sleeves on her sweater. she almost chokes with what she finds underneath. whole body going ridged at the sight of all that pain.
after that- tae is firmly on the side of namjoon and jk because that- even she can admit that they can't help that. it worries her. there are too many moments when she could be left alone- obviously left alone if she still manages to hurt herself that bad and none of them have seen hide nor hair of it yet. she needs attention, as much as they can give still isn't enough.
i just imagine yoongi grabbing her wrist on accident when they're out in public, and she goes ridged wiseing. and yoongi lets go of her so quickly, stumbling out a "sorry i didn't mean to" and she just laughts, a little helplessly. "you don't have to apologize obviously, since it's my fault im hurting."
and Yoongi just- bursts into tears.
(i've got more but here is where i think i wanna leave it before i talk about her outright suicide attempt! sorry for the angst! im trying to tag this as well as i can!)
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bonknigirlinthehood · 3 years
Text
What he needs to understand
About: Zhongli was about to go to work when you suddenly throw a tantrum at him, forcing him to stay.
Pairings: Dad!Zhongli x GN!Child!reader
Tags/Warnings: Family Dynamics, father-child dynamics, gender neutral reader, Fluff.
A/N: Another Zhongli and his child fluff. Idk how tf i write this in between his smut fic, and somehow i finished this at 4 am in the morning.
Zhongli had fostered many children under his care throughout his years of living, growing them into an adult that will benefit Liyue. And so, he really was thought it will no different from raising you, his biological child, and yet it turns out to be way more, and more difficult, to raise his own child than foster children as he did back then.
It was a fine morning in Liyue Harbor. Zhongli, a Consultant from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, already prepared to go to work. On the dining table there's food ready to eat, but not for him, It's for his child who apparently just wake up when he was about to leave. You opened the door to the dining room, still sleepy, only to find your father already done wearing his shoes.
"Good morning, dear. Breakfast is ready, you should eat first, Ms.Lianyi will come shortly after" He notices your presence and smiles warmly, but there seems to be something with you because he also noticed your sour expression.
"My dear, is there something wrong?, Are you sick?" He asks worriedly, he immediately took off his shoes again to approach you.
"Why didn't you wake me up before you had breakfast, daddy?" You pout at him, your little dragon tail swinging behind you with upset. "You always like this, I want to have breakfast with you too!"
"I thought you still wanted to sleep?, You seem tired so i thought you need more rest" Zhongli wipes your face and stroke your messy hair, He can see that you are pretty upset, but he cannot understand why, considering usually you have no problem with him letting you sleep more. In fact, he thought all children like to sleep more in the morning, so he is a bit confused on why you are upset.
Zhongli was about to ask you when you suddenly hoofed onto him and hug him tight.
"Don't go to work daddy" 
He is even more confused upon hearing it. Why you act like this all of a sudden?, He doesn't understand.
"Dear, why are you suddenly like this?, You know I have to go to work today. I can't stay, besides, your caretaker is about to arrive in few minutes, you should wash and prepare to study" 
"I don't want to study!, I don't want to be with Miss Lianyi today!, I want to be with you today!" Suddenly, you start throwing tantrum and whining at him, making him frown in disapproval. 
"Y/n, you shouldn't act like this, daddy doesn't like it if you keep throwing tantrum"
Honestly, you almost stop when he said that, but you decided you don't want to stop.
"No!, I don't want you to go to work!, I don't want I don't want I don't want!" You start thrashing on his chest, hitting him with your little fist, much to his dislike.
"Y/n, if you don't stop I will be mad. I was already late, I can't have you throwing tantrum this early in the morning-" Zhongli stops, realizing his harsh tone. He cursed himself mentally and continue talking with lower voice, "..tell me what's wrong, my child"
You stop thrashing, burying your face in his chest, sobbing. 
"...don't go daddy..." 
Your father sigh, he really doesn't understand what is happening with you today. Usually you are such a good and obedient kid, eating breakfast with your caretaker and either studying or playing for the rest of the day. Is this matter related to him somehow?, Did he do something wrong yesterday to cause you so much upset?.
He was about to ask you another question about it when a knock can be heard from the front door. Realizing who is it, Zhongli immediately picks you up and opens the door. Your Caretaker is here and her greeting smile suddenly turns into worry when she sees you clinging to Zhongli and he hasn’t gone to work yet.
“Did something happen, Mr. Zhongli? Is little bao sick?” she asks worriedly. Zhongli shakes his head, he then invites her to come inside and explain what had happened.
“I...So little baobao won’t let you go to work, and has been clinging to you this whole time?” 
Zhongli nodded, despite you still clinging tightly to his neck, his hand also didn't stop supporting your body so you won’t fall.
“That’s right...and I honestly have no idea what wrong I did to her to make her this upset...Do you perhaps have any idea, Miss Lianyi?” He asks, He looks a bit sad and confused mixed, but his strong facade almost made it impossible to notice.
“I...I probably have an idea why little Y/n acting like this” she said, not so sure. But Zhongli immediately snaps his head to face her with a curious expression. "May I hear it, Miss Lianyi?, I think as her caretaker, you may know things I, her father don't" there's a bit of glimmer in Zhongli's eyes, eager to know. 
"U-uh...well, Mr. Zhongli, for the times I've been taking care of little bao, I've noticed sometimes, they will always waiting near the window…,waiting for you"
"Waiting for me?" Zhongli raises his eyebrows.
"Yes, I think they were feeling pretty lonely because you rarely at home. You see, you always go to work very early in the morning and go home pretty late at night, causing you two to barely have any conversation. And I think it's pretty normal behavior for children to want their parents to spend more time with them. Little bao must be missed you so much" 
Lianyi was done answering, while Zhongli was still trying to digest the newfound information. Throughout his life, every child he had fostered acted very differently, but neither of them ever had such feelings for him. They are always such obedient kids, always eager to learn and be useful for the world. What was the difference?Is it because you are his biological child?So the bond between you two is different?Zhongli needs to understand this or else he won't be able to understand you more. And as a father, it is his responsibility to be able to take care and understand his own child like the back of his hand.
"...Thank you for the information, Ms. Lianyi, I didn't know Y/n was feeling like that this entire time. I should be more cautious about it." He sighs and looks back at you, who are now sleeping again on his shoulder, probably too tired after all the crying. He puts you back to your bed, and after having a brief talk with Lianyi, your caretaker goes back home, leaving you and Zhongli alone. Your father writes some letter for Hu Tao, notifying her he wouldn't be able to go to work that day and asking her to reschedule all of his appointments. 
It's already noon when you finally wake up, and the first thing that goes into your head is if you are alone again. You jump out of the bed and run to the living room, but your father is nowhere to be seen. You let out a sulky pout and grumble, but then the door to Zhongli's room opens and the man steps out. He is still using his usual attire, just without the coat. Upon seeing him, you feel so happy because he is finally at home with you, but when you just about to leap into him you immediately feel embarrassed and awkward, knowing he was here because you threw a tantrum earlier that day, causing him to be unable to go to work and being forced to stay at home with you.
When he noticed you didn't come to him and just stay still, he approached you with a worried expression, asking what was wrong.
"My dear…,is there something wrong?Are you still mad at me?Do you want to eat something?" 
You fidget your fingers behind your back, your tail hidden between the legs. You didn't dare to look at him, still feeling embarrassed and all despite knowing how soft and kind your father was towards you. And after a few minutes you finally gaining courage to talk to him.
"Daddy..?” you whisper slowly.
“Yes, dear?” 
“I-i’m sorry...i didn’t mean to be a bad kid today...i just..i just…” You cannot continue your words, somehow feel too embarrassed to say it. But Zhongli, being as sharp as he is, quickly catch what you meant and smiles softly. 
“It’s alright, i understand” He caresses your head, his ungloved hand feels warm and soft to the touch. “I’m sorry, I should understand your needs more. I’ll try to make more time to spend with you together in the future”.
You can feel your cheek feel warmer, mix of embarrassment and happiness. Your plump cheeks are now as red as peach fruit. Zhongli pulls you into a hug, feeling the warmth of your body, and the comfortable feeling of the part of his soul being so close to him, heart to heart. He now understands why his late wife was so nervous and scared to leave their only child in his hand despite knowing how old and cultivated he is. She was scared this kind of thing will happen someday, because raising his foster children in fact, are different from raising his own blood and flesh. You are just almost as stubborn as him and she is probably afraid the two of you won’t get along nicely. But as always, Zhongli finds his ways to solve problems.
“Let’s eat dinner at Wanmin Restaurant tonight” He says, and you smile wide, your tail wiggling happily. “Yes, papa!” you giggles, your father can’t help but feel ticklish in the heart at how sweet your smile is. Right, he swore to protect that smile ever since you were a baby.
“But you need a bath first” He clears his throat, and without waiting for your reactions he just scoops you out from the floor and brings you to the bathroom. You whine and just resigned to the situation as Zhongli scrubs your body (especially your tail) to wash you clean. He always told you that young dragons need to scrub their body a lot because they are constantly renewing their skin to make it thicker and stronger, so you need to take a bath everyday and scrub your whole body to clean out the older skin so it won’t pile up. And Zhongli always likes it whenever he is just done bathing you. Your skin looks brighter and smoother, and your tail looks shinier, much to his liking. 
Not to mention how proud he is whenever he gets the chance to show you off to the people of Liyue. They always praise you at how cute and how much you resemble your father, but whenever someone tries to pinch your cheeks he is always quick to hold you back close to him. He sure doesn’t want to let anyone touch his one and only child.
With every passing days, Zhongli always learns something new about you. And even though your little self likes the attention your father gives you, in the future you probably will start hating it, and Zhongli will need another solution to solve your adolescence and puberty. But surely, surely he always enjoys seeing you growing up under his care.
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supercorpkid · 2 years
Text
L Corp’s Christmas party.
Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Sam Arias x Goddaughter!Reader.
Word Count: 1380.
“Hey, where’s mom?” You walk down the stairs to see only Kara on the couch, eating leftovers in some kind of pity party.
“L Corp thing.” She mumbles, mouth full of food, and she spares no glance at you.
“What L Corp thing? I was there today, and I haven’t heard a single thing about it.” You throw yourself on the couch in front of her and look at the TV. Kara’s too far gone watching ‘The Grinch’. “Hey!” You throw a pillow at her face to get her attention.
“Huh?” She finally looks at you and you raise an eyebrow at her. “It’s a Christmas party, kid.”
“L Corp is having a Christmas party?” You ask in shock. Kara agrees with her head. “And we’re not invited?”
“What? No. I mean, yeah, I guess.” She shrugs and you look at her. You really look at her. Curled up on a couch watching a super old -yet amazing- Christmas movie, looking sorry for herself.
“Come on.” You get up and go to her, showing her your hand. “Come, momma. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” Kara says, first cleaning her greasy hand on her t-shirt, then holding yours.
“Oh, we’re crashing into a fancy party.” You smile at her.
“Little one, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s an office party and-”
“And we’re the family of the CEO. Besides, I bet there’s good food. Much better than the leftovers you’re eating.” You try, but you can see Kara is still reluctant to go. “My beautiful, sweet momma, a party without you is barely a party at all.”
“Oh ok.” She tries to play it cool about it, like she doesn’t believe you, but there’s a blush on her cheeks right after you say it.
“Go dress in your finest outfit, and I’ll do the same.”
She rolls her eyes, like she can’t even believe she’s considering it. “They probably won’t even let us in.”
“I’d love to see them try and stop me.” You smirk. “Go. Go look handsome for your wife.”
“Fine. But I’m only going because of the food.” She makes her way to her bedroom, and you smile to yourself. Yeah, right.
It’s only a few minutes later when she knocks on your door. You’re almost ready as well. Having super speed is so great.
“Ok, I’m ready.” She walks in, after you invite her, and you smile at her.
‘I’m only going for the food’ just put on her best dress, that shows way too much of her cleavage for a 48-year-old.
“Oh wow.” You smile at her. “Someone’s trying to get laid tonight.”
“Hey!” Kara furrows her brows, pretending to be bothered by your comment. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”
“Yeah, ok. Let me just-” You finish your light make-up and turn to her.
“Come onnnn.” She whines. “I swear if you look prettier than what you are right now, I might have to leave you locked up at home. Or in a tower somewhere.”
“You’re so silly.” But still you blush at the compliment.
It’s kind of stupid getting all dressed up to then fly to L Corp, having your hair being all messed up as soon as you land.
“Ready to go fit in with the big shots?” You ask Kara, who rolls her eyes at you while laughing.
“I’ve been faking for years now, baby. You’d be surprised at how well I can do it.” Kara holds your hand and both of you make your way out of the alley and to L Corp.
“Name?” You’re asked, first thing.
“Kara Luthor-Danvers and-”
“Oh, Mrs. Luthor. Yes, please. Enjoy the party!” The man says and you smile at Kara while walking in.
“Not so much as crashing in, but I’ll take it.”
“Kara?” You hear Sam’s voice behind you, and you turn around to see her there, looking very fine in her suit. “I can’t believe you came! Lena’s gonna love to see you both here.”
“Will she?” Kara asks with a forced smile, and Sam smiles reassuringly.
“Of course. Why don’t you go find her? And you, munchkin, I just ate the best shrimp cocktail in my life. You’re going to love it!”
“Sounds like a plan.” You make your way towards Sam, but Kara holds your hand a little stronger, making it impossible for you to move. You look at her, furrowing your brows. Why is Kara so scared of being here? “Actually, godmother, I’ll go find my mom too. Then I’ll meet you for shrimp.”
“Ok then. Come find me later.” Sam walks away, engaging in a conversation with someone else close-by.
You turn to Kara. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember the last L Corp event?” Kara’s face looks very distressed. You try to think of the last time L Corp held an event, but nothing comes to mind. “I sorta broke the table with all of the drinks.”
“Oh.” You try to be respectful and hold back the laughter, but it’s too hard when you remember the scene perfectly. You’ve never seen someone destroy so many bottles of champagne so fast. She furrows her brows harder when sees you wheezing out a laughter. “Sorry. I-I’m-That was not funny.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes at you.
“Sorry, momma. I’ve got you, ok? I won’t leave your side.” You squeeze her hand, and she agrees with her head looking less stressed. “Let’s find mom.”
It doesn’t take long for you to find Lena, looking absolutely stunning in her green one-shoulder dress. Why the hell weren’t you born looking like her?
“Mom!” You call her and she turns around to you.
“What!” She looks so damn happy to see both of you there, you can’t believe you almost didn’t come because Kara was afraid of breaking something. “Look at the two of you. Hi, baby!” She hugs you first. “You look so pretty.”
“Thanks mom.” You smile, finally letting go of Kara’s hand so they can hug as well.
“You’re here.” Lena says softly.
“I’m here.” Kara agrees with a forced smile.
“Thank you, honey.” She whispers in Kara’s ear, and you can’t help but notice how Kara’s body finally relaxes for the first time since you decided to crash at the party. Lena looks so happy you’re both there; you have no idea why Kara was scared in the first place.
After Lena goes around proudly introducing you to some old people you’ve never once heard of, you finally slip out to the shrimp cocktails Sam told you good things about. And man, wasn’t she right!
The night is nice. A little bit too fancy for your liking, but when you and Sam slip into her office with a bunch of food she helped you sneak in, it’s all more than great.
“Hey, there you guys are!” Your moms open the door to Sam’s office and find both of you sitting on the floor eating shrimps and tapas with your own hands.
“Oh.” Sam swallows deep, scared she’ll get in trouble. “I just came here to tell her to not steal food.”
You raise an eyebrow at her. “Really? You’re gonna throw me under the bus like that?”
You both look back at Lena, scared that she’ll be mad. But what happens in reality is that Lena takes off her heels and sits on the floor right in front of both of you.
“So what nice things have you smuggled in here, outlaws?” She asks, accepting the champagne glass that Sam is offering her.
Kara sits next to her right after. “Oh, the dumplings! Yeah!” She takes three at once, stuffing all of them in her mouth at the same time. “That’s my kind of party.” She says mouthful.
“Yeah.” Lena’s eyes are smiling so hard you don’t even need to look at her lips. She reaches for your arm and gives it a light squeeze. “The best kind.” You agree with your head and she mouths a ‘thank you’ to you. You nod again with a smile.
It is the best kind of party. Being here between your moms and your godmother, eating really good food, and laughing, and being silly. Rao, you love Christmas time and your family so very much.
Notes:
Yeah, I know Christmas is just next week, but apparently it’s all me and @supercorpenthusiastic can think about. So, you know, you guys can thank her for this one.
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tossawary · 3 years
Note
wait can we hear more about da ge mbj au I'm very interested
MBJ getting abandoned as a child makes me enjoy imagining him being soft for babies, especially demon babies. Which made me want to see SQH put into a situation with a lost demon child and MBJ getting to see that. 
Which ended in 3,000 words of canon divergence fic.
-
The situation was bad. 
 Airplane’s fellow An Ding disciples were dead. 
 There was a young demon lord unconscious in front of him, probably dying, and Airplane couldn’t bring himself to bring down the rock in his hand. 
 His hand was shaking. He couldn’t make it stop. 
 This System really didn’t give a fuck about the author’s wishes, huh? Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had been shoved into one of the worst character roles in Proud Immortal Demon Way and left to take the long way around to the plot. Now he was being told that his favorite character was expendable? Irrelevant? Talk about insult to injury! Nothing was sacred here, was it? 
 Airplane put down the rock. 
 Then he picked up the rock again. 
 He looked at it. 
 Then he hurled the rock away and put his head in his hands instead. 
 He came to a decision - a shitty decision for a shitty situation - and got to work saving his future murderer’s life. At least he would know some of what to expect if he kept the storyline mostly the same! Besides, his life wasn’t good enough to be that concerned about it! Maybe the System would put him into a decent role next time! 
 Maybe it was empathy at seeing someone being fucked over by the System! 
 Airplane did his best to slow down Mobei-Jun’s bleeding and loaded the man into the cart. He also did his best to ignore all the dead bodies around them. Gross. 
 That should have been that! He should have then been on his way to continue making a really bad decision in a really bad situation. But as Airplane moved to leave the scene of a massacre behind him, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He startled, snapping around, prepared to defend himself physically or verbally! 
 Instead, he saw a baby. 
 Ah, well, not a baby baby! But a child somewhere between the ages of three and four years old! A chubby one too! The chubby child was crouched halfway behind a tree, looking at Airplane with wide eyes, little hands clawing anxiously into the grass. It was impossible to miss their little pointed ears and the blue mark in the middle of their forehead. How could anyone miss that kind of family resemblance? 
 The demon child froze upon being noticed. 
 Airplane looked between the demon child and the young demon lord in the card, but the similarities only got stronger the longer he looked! 
 Holy shit! 
 HOLY FUCKING SHIT! 
 But he didn’t remember Mobei-Jun having a child! He remembered Mobei-Jun having siblings, sure, but he was pretty sure that... he’d alluded to Mobei-Jun’s uncle doing away with most of them. Did that mean that this child was supposed to… die? 
 This situation had gotten even worse. 
 Leaving a child here to die was… pretty bad. Airplane had done some not very good things to make it in this world and in his sect without losing any sleep over it at all, but the idea of leaving this child to die made Airplane want to be sick! At least, as soon as he realized that if Mobei-Jun had been protecting this demon child and woke up to find this demon child missing, then Airplane would be really, truly, totally fucked no matter how tightly he hugged the man’s thighs! 
 It looked like the demon child had to come too. 
 How the fuck did a person go about catching a demon child?! 
 “Is… this your gege?” Airplane tried carefully. “Is this your gege here?” 
 The demon child didn’t respond. 
 Airplane gestured at Mobei-Jun repeatedly, unsure how to get the message across. “Is this your gege?” he said, louder. “Baba? ...No? Not Baba? Da-Ge? Are you his didi?” 
 That got a blink. 
 “Didi?” Airplane repeated, desperately. “Come here, Didi.” 
 Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky hadn’t handled children since his last life. He’d been one of the younger siblings in Shang Qinghua’s family, so he hadn’t been involved in any of the child-rearing before leaving. But Airplane’s experience wasn’t very good! Some forced babysitting of his father’s do-over children and his mother’s stepchildren’s children didn’t make him an expert! And this was a demon baby! 
 “Didi, your gege needs you,” Airplane wheedled. “Come here! Come on!” 
 Slowly, the demon child began to crawl over towards the cart. 
 “Your gege is hurt and needs help,” Airplane said, in most most soothing and also urgent voice. It was a weird balance! “Come on! Come along! Didi, your gege needs help. He’s hurt. Come here, please, that’s it! That’s right! Good job! You’re doing such a good job coming up here for your gege! We need to get your gege somewhere safe!” 
 The demon child made it to the cart, trying to stay on the far side of it and away from Airplane. Airplane tried not to make himself look too threatening. He also tried not to contemplate his apparent natural talent for kidnapping children, which probably wasn’t something to make a person feel proud. 
 “Didi, can I pick you up? Didi, can I lift you up next to your gege?” 
 Reluctantly, the demon child lifted his chubby arms and let Airplane slowly approach him. Airplane carefully put his hands under their armpits and then hefted them into the cart beside Mobei-Jun. The demon child nearly kicked him in the gut, struggling to get to the unconscious and injured ice demon! 
 “Ah, be careful of the injury-!” Airplane said, trying to move the child back. “OW!” 
 The demon child bit him. 
 Airplane yanked his poor hand back. “You little fucker! Ah, fine! Curl up in your gege’s blood and see if I care,” he muttered. “Let’s just get out of here already.” 
 The demon child curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side and Shang Qinghua got back into the driver’s seat of the cart. Trying to channel his spiritual energy for healing purposes while focusing on driving was hard. Even if he could have managed it properly, he still would have been stuck with an aching hand as it healed, which didn’t make him feel very charitable towards the demons in the back seat. 
 Ungrateful! The both of them! 
 When they finally got to a decent hiding place, unloading Mobei-Jun was nothing less than a pain in the ass. Airplane was forced to negotiate with a two-foot tyrant with needle-sharp teeth who didn’t want to move and didn’t want Airplane to touch his gege. Airplane was forced to wheedle like never before. 
 “Your gege is hurt, but I can help him,” Airplane insisted soothingly. “See that place? It’s safe in there! Don’t you want your gege to be somewhere nice and safe, where no one can see him and I can heal him? Look at that hiding spot! It’s a good hiding spot. We all need to go into the hiding spot now. We’re all going into the hiding spot. Come on, Didi, help me get your gege into the nice, safe hiding spot. Come on now. Be good.” 
 The demon child bared his teeth as Airplane helped him down from the cart, but thankfully didn’t bite again. The demon child then hugged Airplane’s shins very unhelpfully as Airplane hefted Mobei-Jun into his arms. 
 Airplane was forced to shuffle. 
 He never thought he’d be so grateful for all the carrying that An Ding Peak forced its disciples to do! Sometimes, carrying things around was all Airplane did all day long and now it was paying off! Airplane wasn’t as strong as some of his peers, sure, but he still managed to carry a giant ice demon into the “hiding spot” with a little ice demon attached to his leg. He counted himself grateful there was only one Mobei-Jun to deliver inside, because he couldn’t have handled more. 
 Once inside, the demon child curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side again. Airplane took the opportunity to look after the cart’s beast of burden and unload the supplies from the cart, searching desperately for the medical supplies their mission had been allotted. When he finally found the medicine, returning triumphantly, the demon child was ungratefully unenthusiastic about Airplane’s careful approach. 
 “Ah, Didi, don’t growl at me! See, look! Look! It’s medicine! Medicine for your gege to stop the bleeding and... make sure his organs go back on the inside. Eugh. Ah, anyway, I’m helping. It’s okay because I’m helping. See, look, I’m helping. It’s okay.” 
 Airplane managed to get pretty far before the demon child couldn’t take it anymore and tried to bite him again. Airplane shrieked, but managed to wrestle the demon child off him, and ended up grabbing some of the food supplies as a desperate distraction. 
 “Bite this! Bite this! Didi, look, it’s food! Food for Didi!” 
 The demon child growled, but putting the food directly in front of his face caught his attention. The demon child’s eyes narrowed in on the food in a super predatory way that was unseen in human babies. Airplane gladly made the sacrifice. He threw the food to the demon child, who scrambled to catch it, gave it a sniff, and then started to hesitantly nibble on it before taking bigger bites. 
 “See? Don’t bite your Shang-Gege and he’ll give you food instead,” Airplane muttered, quickly turning his attention to the bigger demon. “You stay there and chew that and let me help your gege. I’m helping. I’m helping. I’m helping. Shang-Gege is helping Didi’s gege. Everything is good. Everything is okay. There’s no need for biting.” 
 Airplane didn’t really know how much the demon child understood of what he was saying. The demon child looked more than old enough to understand basic speech. He at least understood “stay”, Airplane decided, by sitting off to the side and anxiously chewing through dried food supplies while Airplane worked rearranging Mobei-Jun’s guts and then bandaging up the blood mess. 
 Maybe it helped to see that Airplane had no intention of eating the unconscious and vulnerable Mobei-Jun or something. He was pretty sure that was a demon thing. 
 He couldn’t bring himself to think about what he was doing! 
 If he thought about his actions here, he was going to throw up or something! 
 So long as he kept his hands moving here, he didn’t have to think about anything. He was just an An Ding Peak disciples hard at work betraying the sect. Yeah. 
 Eventually, Mobei-Jun was in as good a shape as Airplane could get him. The demon child - Didi, Airplane decided to call him - was curled up into a ball beside where Mobei-Jun was lying. Didi looked like he was forcing himself to stay alert. 
 “It’s all okay now,” Airplane said. “See? I helped. Shang-Gege helped your gege. Your Gege needs to sleep to get better and now you can sleep beside him.” 
 Airplane washed himself as best he could and tried to wash Didi a little, but the demon child was resistant and snapped at him. Airplane, expecting this now, successfully dodged the snap and wiped at Didi’s face. Trying to be nice was too much work! Airplane’s clean-up job ended up being pretty shitty. There was no doing anything about Mobei-Jun’s blood staining Didi’s clothes around the knee and elbow. 
 “Ah, fine, curl up in blood again, you little brat,” Airplane sighed. 
 Didi curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side again and, apparently, immediately fell asleep. 
 Airplane secured their hiding place as best he could, took stock of their pitiful amount of resources, and tried not to panic about what the fuck he was was going to do now. He was exhausted. Saving two ungrateful demons was hard work. He had no idea what was going to happen next. He was pretty sure he had just made the worst mistake of his life, but it was a little late to change things now. 
 Airplane found a good patch of floor to watch over the demons and let himself collapse. He was too tired to think anymore. There were too many things to think about. 
 He hoped that Mobei-Jun didn’t die. Demons were hardy and demon lords were even hardier, but the real world that had been made out of his shitty web-novel was really unpredictable sometimes. For all Airplane knew, Mobei-Jun was going to develop an infection and a fever. Maybe Mobei-Jun would die anyway and Airplane was going to be stuck with a bitey demon brat who hated him. 
 Airplane yawned. Keeping his eyes open was becoming really hard. Fuck. 
 Watching Didi’s back go up and down with his unconscious breaths was pretty mesmerizing. It was really tempting to sneak over there and pinch one of those chubby, chubby cheeks. Or those cute demon ears. But the demon child looked almost as tired as Airplane felt and probably bit in his sleep. 
 Airplane really didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he’d just taken off with Mobei-Jun, not knowing the demon child had been hiding nearby. That might have been the worst possible situation. Didi was dirty and exhausted now, sure, but he looked like one of those babies who should have been spoiled and happy all the time, and not mercilessly abandoned to the human world.  
-
 Airplane woke up with a hand around his throat, squeezing. 
 There was a dark shadow above him and an even darker feeling in the air. The hand at his throat felt freezing cold. The air was burning with hateful demonic energy that felt like acid on his skin. Airplane struggled, but it was all immoveable. 
 “Where is he?” the shadow snarled. 
 Airplane choked. 
 His shadowy attacker belatedly seemed to realize that Airplane couldn’t talk when he was being choked to death! The squeezing let up enough for Airplane to breathe again. His lungs felt like they were burning hot and cold! His throat felt crushed and ruined. 
 “What did you do with him?” the attacker demanded. 
 “...W-wh…?” 
 “The child! Where is the child?!” 
 Airplane realized here that he was looking into the face of his future murderer. It was hard to make out in the darkness when he was being choked! 
 Mobei-Jun looked wild. His eyes looked like lightning. 
 “The ch-child… ch- chi- is-” 
 Mobei-Jun snarled again with impatience. 
 Even though it definitely wasn’t Airplane’s fault he couldn’t talk coherently! 
 “H-here,” Airplane choked out. 
 Mobei-Jun’s grip tightened, but then the man froze. His head snapped to the side. 
 Airplane followed the demon lord’s gaze. 
 Through the darkness, if Airplane squinted, he could see a small figure crouched by the supplies. Didi was frozen, watching them, chubby cheeks stuffed with stolen food. 
 Oh, there weren’t words for what Airplane wanted to say to the brat! Sneaking around like this in the middle of the night! Nearly getting Airplane strangled for no reason! 
 Mobei-Jun released Airplane immediately and flew across the room to the demon child, who threw up his arms immediately. Mobei-Jun took his younger brother into his arms and then collapsed heavily to the floor. By the sound of it, he crushed some of their precious food supplies as he fell! But the man was too busy wrapping his arms around the demon child to care about things like that, letting Didi sob into his chest, glaring at Airplane over the demon child’s head. 
 Airplane kept his distance! He knew better than to get anywhere near that! 
 The silence was very heavy. 
 He was certain that Mobei-Jun had reopened his wounds, if they had managed to close at all! As time trickled by them, he could see red seeping down the man’s side. 
 “...There are more bandages,” Airplane said finally, hoarsely. 
 Mobei-Jun’s scowl deepened, his lip curling. 
 “Ah… if- if you want them.” 
 What an asshole! 
 Airplane stayed put and didn’t make any sudden moves. 
 His throat felt like shit, so he tried to heal it with his spiritual energy. It was hard to focus with the demon lord glaring at him like that, on the other side of the room, but he didn’t really have anything better to do. There were only so many names he could silently call this ungrateful young demon who’d attacked the bro who’d saved his life! 
 At least Mobei-Jun hadn’t bitten him too. 
 Time trickled by and by. Eventually, Mobei-Jun’s eyelids began to droop close. The man’s injury appeared to be pulling him back under, whether he liked it or not. 
 After Mobei-Jun’s eyes had closed without opening for a long time, Airplane finally risked moving again. Mobei-Jun didn’t wake up, but Didi’s eyes fixed on Airplane, which made Airplane fear being bitten as he carefully came closer. 
 “Ahhh, see? Your gege is fine. I’m just… just going to put him back to bed, alright? You- don’t get up… just stay there and don’t bite me. We’re putting gege back to bed.” 
 Airplane dragged Mobei-Jun back to where the man had been before, with Didi staying put on his elder brother’s chest. Airplane was sure that this couldn’t be good for the demon lord’s wounds! But clearly Mobei-Jun didn’t give a shit about his own health! 
 “Didi, can you get off gege’s chest? Keep hugging him, just slide off, please? Gege is hurt, remember? Gege is hurt and we need to help him. See, he’s bleeding. Please let your Shang-Gege help again and don’t bite me. Everyone is fine. Everyone is happy. Everyone is getting along just fine and helping and healing. There’s no need to bite your Shang-Gege who is only helping, okay?” 
 Didi was more cooperative this time, sliding off Mobei-Jun chest to hug his less-injured side, while Airplane poked at the demon lord’s bleeding. The injuries looked… a lot better than Airplane would have expected them to. This healing rate was nothing short of astounding. Was this the power of an OP demon lord? How unfair! 
 Airplane did his best fixing the man up again. 
 He should have just let the man rot! 
 Mobei-Jun had just tried to kill him again! He would totally deserve it! 
 But there was a demon child carefully watching and Airplane didn’t want to end up with custody if his future murderer died here after all. What would he do with a demon child? Take them back to the sect?! His master would love that, he’s sure! 
 “Ah, looks like he’s getting lots better,” Airplane told Didi hoarsely, rubbing at his poor throat. “You’re doing a good job looking after him. Good job helping your gege. Keep helping his sleep, okay? Stay right there and don’t go sneaking off again, okay? Please don’t go sneaking off again, your Shang-Gege won’t be able to take it.” 
 Didi just blinked at him. 
 “Good job,” Airplane said. “Good job. Shang-Gege is… going to make sure that everything is okay outside. You stay here and protect your gege. Good job.” 
 That said, Airplane crept backwards, got up, and went outside. 
 Once outside, he promptly fell to his knees and curled in on himself. 
 “Holy fucking shit,” he said. 
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supremeinlilac · 3 years
Text
Hurt me once
Pairing: Billie Dean Howard x Fem!Reader
Prompt: Hurt me once- Ben Platt, also there will be a Mina one too :))
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: Cheating, lying, basically Billie is how I imagine some celebrities in reality tv to be like, so soz.
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Maybe you were reading into it too much. Since Billie had started dating you, you’d wanted to pull away from working for her and get your own job on the pretence that you could never be equal if you worked as her assistant day in and day out. You supposed you’d brought it upon yourself.
She still needed an assistant. Her job was demanding and stressful so of course she’d rehire. You’d been naïve to think any differently.
“No one can replace you.” She’d purred when you’d admitted to wanting to quit. Assuring that you’d been her best help to date.
She was lying.
You’d tried to remain focus in work but Billie Dean Howard had this addicting aura about her person and you couldn’t help but become distracted. Especially when she’d aim flirty remarks and winks with pinpoint precision at you. Like a lamb to slaughter you were set up to fail.
She’d taken you to watch a drive in movie for your first date. Huddled together under blankets on the plush of her backseat. It had been an action, the name escapes you now; but at the time you’d been far more aware of the way the light from the screen caught against her skin instead of the actual film.
The way she’d catch you staring and the signature cocky grin would form, tongue poking into her cheek as she pulled you closer. Under the stars that night you’d felt her lips for the first time, the moon a perfect witness. Stark and full above you, beaming down in chords of silvery light.
Naturally, it became routine for the moon to bare witness to such moments. For you both to come together under the pale light and either dance or watch another movie. The moon was hers, delicately and wholly and irrevocably hers.
You can’t look at the moon now without feeling the need to howl at it like a wolf does. For the moon had stolen Billie from you. The moon was no longer a thing you shared alone.
Billie took her new assistant to a drive in theatre.
It rained. The sky cried and protested like a petulant child because it should have been you. It should have been you there, huddled together under blankets on the plush of her backseat. Instead of throwing a tantrum, you told yourself that she was just being kind. Billie Dean was kind. Annoyingly so, in this case.
You told yourself that she didn’t realise that doing that was your thing, something that you did together. It was special. A rare pearl lodged in the mouth of a clam, the gem that you were lucky to have had. Had. Had you lost it, was its touch fleeting? Inevitably drawn back after being loaned so cruelly?
You started to notice the little ways Billie was pulling away. At least, you thought she was pulling away. Little landmines that were buried under your feet, growing and ticking dangerously, waiting for you to lose balance and fall. Triggering them. A looming explosion.
Billie would eat with her production team after long scheduled days of filming, she’d message you fleetingly with wordless apologies for her absence, and slip into bed after you slept. She never saw the tears that would stain the skin of your cheeks. At least you hoped she didn’t notice them, because she never mentioned it, and you’d prefer her to be ignorant to it than to ignore your pain.
She’d started to take her phone calls on the porch, leaving the dinner table with only a motion to the ringing to say where she was going. She’d mouth that she’d be back in a minute but you’d always have to reheat her food. Eating alone with the silhouette of your lover in the window had become the regular, leaving an uneasy feeling in your gut which you couldn’t seem to shake.
It seemed like you’d forgotten how to read her face.
No. You’d always been able to sense her mood by the twitch of a lip or the furrow of a brow, could know what she was thinking without even having to try.
It struck you that maybe that was only the case because she was letting you, an open book, the tells of her mood bright against the curves of her face. The book was no longer open, fragile pages torn in an attempt to hide the contents. The library of Billie Dean’s emotions padlocked and closed to you.
At the back of your mind however, you knew that you could still read her like you always had been able to. A feeble attempt to disguise the fact that you could see the words strewn carefully across the page, so clearly in front of you. But you don’t like what you read, instead feigning oblivion rather than face the truth.
It was red to love Billie Dean.
Passionate and fuelled, excitement sparking your muscles involuntarily. It was hot, blushed faces between silken sheets. The feeling one gets as the rollercoaster reaches its peak, and hovers just over the edge, dipping so you can see the fall. Your breath hitches in your throat and for a moment you feel like you might live forever, stay in this moment and this safety with Billie.
But a moment doesn’t last forever.
And then it’s dropping. Falling, falling. You reach out to grasp for something sturdy but fingers only close around the fragments of memories that you’re losing. Moments you won’t experience again. And your breath draws in a way that is painful, burning down to your lungs. Red. Fire. Dangerous.
For it was dangerous to love Billie Dean.
You knew it all too well.
You’d read the suggestive articles about the mysterious, nameless new girl that clung to Billie’s arm, sheltered by the umbrella she’d once used to protect you from the rain.
Now, you’d dance fearlessly under it with closed eyes and a head tilted to the sky. Welcoming the rain from your apologetic moon. For your moon was panoptic, it saw your pain and her infidelity, sending shards of silver regret.
You wanted the looming explosion to be destructive. To be angry and snapping and make her understand that she’d hurt you with inexistent loyalty when yours had been unwavering.
But the explosion wasn’t big. It wasn’t sudden and angry, a dog snarling and baring steak knives for teeth, loud and frothing at the mouth. Looking back you wished it had been, it would have been easier to hate her, to blame her.
Hating Billie Dean Howard was impossible. Even the people with the least humility would sooner blame themselves, sinking and struggling beneath the waves themselves lest have Billie drown.
You found yourself drawing back into yourself, a child curled into itself in the corner, a small animal frantic to take up the least space possible. You shrunk, imploding instead of exploding. Crippling hatred gnawed at your skin, vultures picking your body clean and leaving it to rot in the burning sun.
Doubt crushes your ribs to ash, filling your lungs and mixing with blood to a paste no amount of coughing will clear. It was deep and bruising, and you knew that not even Billie’s empty reassurance wouldn’t settle the ache.
The night you confronted Billie played in your mind like a broken cassette, looping the scene, a single jumping moment on display endlessly.
You’d been crying. Billie hadn’t turned up for the dinner you’d made for your anniversary, well she’d showed, hours later and stumbling through the door. She’d been drinking and the curve of her lips was smudged with a crimson lipstick under the moonlight.
Your moonlight.
You couldn’t remember a time when Billie Dean had worn red lipstick. Hooker lipstick, as she’d once said. The fact only made the tears run anew.
Her intoxication made it easier. Perhaps you’d be able to vent and cry and confess to her and she wouldn’t remember come the morning. The spirits in the walls would remind her though, whispers and taunts in sobriety.
You wanted to be big and angry, pushing back against her when her actions cut you, hurting and scarring her back. But you were kinder than her. Billie was kind but she had nothing on you.
You’d stood, bags packed in a pile by the door, and she’d sat. You’d cried, and she didn’t. She didn’t even speak until you made to leave, didn’t move until it was to cling onto your wrists in a frantic effort to keep you.
“Did you sleep with her?” You found yourself asking without even registering your words. You hadn’t planned on being so direct.
“Y/n, listen to me. I-”
“Did you, sleep with her?” Ignoring her, you spoke. Slower, punctuating and almost spitting your words at her, as if keeping them against your tongue would do more damage.
“Once, yes. But she’s not you.” Billie said, slender fingers reaching to pull at the pearls around her neck, instead of reaching to you.
You found yourself backing away again, struck anew at her final admission. Somehow it hurt more to hear her confirm what you already knew to be true. Like when you know someone to be dying, yet it only really hits you when they’re gone. When it’s too late to change anything.
“I don’t know why I did it, I just-” her voice trailed off, hands hitting out at nothing. Slumping onto the sofa, you mirrored her movement, perching yourself tentatively on the arm of the coach.
Your eyes flitted from her form to the door, the escape should you need it. Should youchoose it.
“You did it because you could, Billie.” You breathed, knuckles pressing at your temple to ease an impending migraine. Fighting with Billie always gave you a headache, it was a headache to get your point across when she’d ceased to listen. “I mean I get it, it’s exciting. Young girls like me, fawning. You feel, I don’t know? Appreciated, flattered?”
You knew that it was commonplace among celebrities like Billie, to chain date young girls who fed into their egos and made them feel young. Billie didn’t speak for a while, head in her hands and knees knocking together while you forced yourself to not watch her, eyes fixing instead on the way the curtains sways slightly with the open window. Even the curtains ached to free themselves.
“Look. I’m sorry, I swear.” Her voice thawed, defensiveness gone and replaced with a vulnerability she rarely let herself show. You wrung your hands in your lap and stared at the way they whitened with pressure. Your lungs felt like that, blood pressed out with the crushing doubt, a band wrapped around your ribs. You almost reached a hand up to your chest to help you breathe.
She stood, reaching into the cabinet drawer and retrieving a packet of cigarettes and flicking one between her fingers. She didn’t light it. What would be the point of creating more of a separating fog between you both? Instead, she just fiddled with it, a nervous tic.
“Can we still be in love?” She pleaded, eyes shining and you screwed yours tight as to not be lost to the depths of them. Her eyes were your weakness, and she knew it. You’d once told her that you thought you’d seen the man on the moon, reflected in them. The man on the moon, dancing on a music box in her eyes.
“I don’t know you. Your voice, it’s different.” The shake of your head and the riddle of your words had the medium narrowing her eyes in confusion. For one who loved to play games, Billie wasn’t playing fair.
“What do you mean? Different how?”
Frustration bit at you, and you wondered if this was the explosion people spoke of. An internal understanding of grief for something you never had.
“I can’t with you Billie! Did you ever even love me? You say you want to be in love but were you ever in love with me? What makes me different from the others?” The chime of the music box, opened and singing in the splash of your tears.
She sighed, tying her hair loosely behind her head to stop her from running her hands through it in anguish. She didn’t like to see you in pain knowing she was the one who’d caused it. Unjustly caused it. Guilt washed smoothly over her only now at the sight of her baby girl, a small ache in the gut. But the realisation hit like a winter wave in a storm. She’d lose you if she didn’t fight to keep you.
She reached out to wipe your tears with a comforting hand.
“Let me in. Please.”
Who were you to seek comfort in the person who’d broken you? Much alike to a shadow seeking solace with the sun, the sun that burned and cut through the shade. Prey looking to please the predator.
But you did. You craved the musk of smoke that would cling to her clothes, the rasp to her voice in the morning. The suggestive lilt to her eyebrow when she’d dress you in her favourite dress, dancing in an empty crowd because she used to only see you.
“I love you.” She begged; voice hoarse from overuse. “You’re a part of me.”
That made you stop. Made you question.
Who were you without her? Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars. She was a light, cutting through the dangerous darkness a path forged for you. The darkness was exciting and inviting and you wanted to be comfortable in its depths, but without her you are nothing.
You sell your soul for the chance at happiness. For the hope that she may learn to love you properly, how you love, and deserve to be loved back. To walk in the light.
You tell yourself how easy it would be to leave the city and find peace elsewhere. Get a steady job in television production, a steady and reliable wage. Reliability. Billie had made you crave it. Crave it from her, selfishly asking for something that you aren’t even sure if she’s capable to give you.
But you're ensnared in her trap. Her charm and confidence has bound you on a tether, an obedient puppy just looking to please. Young and impressionable.
How could you settle for a simple life when Billie had shown you the city from the highest building. Made you watch as the lights illuminated the world below in perfect technicolour. She’d shown you what could be, what was destined to not to be, but what you’d reach for nonetheless.
You’d known about Billie’s previous proclivities toward girls your age, but you’d believed that you could change her. Naively, you, another wide eyed, hopeful wannabee, believed you could make her settle down. Stupid. She’d lain with dozens of girls like you, before you, and she would lay with dozens more.
This realisation did nothing to stop you from letting her back in, agreeing to her empty promise of change.
Was change even possible?
She was Billie Dean Howard, the stars. The stars could make deals with the people of Earth, but they could not bargain in return. You can’t catch a star and claim it as your own. She held all the cards, all the choices while you remained empty. Without her, you were nothing.
You let yourself be engulfed by the stars. Opening your arms for her warmth to invade you once again as she pulled you into a hug. Letting yourself be hers again.
But you’d always been hers, ever since she’d strode, cocky and confident, into your life. You didn’t think that she’d ever truly been yours, or ever would.
Billie Dean Howard held the unpredictability of a tornado’s spin, and people got caught up in her exciting whirlwind. You weren’t sure if she really meant for them to, or if she realised the damage she left in her wake. Travelling from place to place, never looking back.
It was a defence mechanism the job forced upon her. But who was defending you?
“No second chances.” You warned her through gritted teeth, chin propped against her shoulder. She couldn’t see the angry tears that pricked at your eyes, anger at her, at yourself. You’d been reminded of the dangers over and over and yet you still allowed yourself to fall victim to her charm.
“I won’t need one, I promise. I swear I won’t,” Billie reassured, palms rubbing up your back and making you shiver involuntarily. You clutched her blouse in trembling fingers, perhaps if you held on strong enough your bones might turn to ash in her grasp and she’d be the one to mourn. You convinced yourself she wouldmourn.
“I can’t do this again.” Truth.
“I won’t do this again.” Lie.
She hummed, accepting your whispers as truth, for who was Billie Dean Howard to question you? Who was she to take your love for granted and render it infinite? Fame did not mean she was entitled to your loyalty if she refused to give hers.
Billie wasn’t stupid, she knew it wasn’t a game she could win without consequences. She couldn’t have it all. Wouldn’t have it all.
“I love you.” A kiss against skin mottled by tears.
You didn’t say it back, she didn’t deserve it yet. Despite wanting to let your lips form the words, your teeth bit down on your tongue and refused for the phrase to drip demurely from it, she had not yet earned the nectar of your spoken love.
Instead; you let Billie believe that you would have actually left. That you would leave next time.
Not that you wouldn’t have eventually, when you finally broke the spell she had over you, being the television star that she is. You loathed that you would forgive her for hurting you so easily, self-respect forgotten in lieu of kissing under the gentle moon once more.
You were ashamed that you were proud of the fact that she could do anything and you’d still be in love with her. You’d chosen her, your colour sealed with the crimson blood that coursed through your veins.
Red was once your favourite colour, wasn’t it?
taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @pluied-ete @okpaulson @extraordinarilycelestrial @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @sapphicsarahpaulson @delias-bitch-craft @venablemayfairgoode @loverofallthingssarah @music-addict ,,if you want to be added, give me a shout :))
229 notes · View notes
lightsovermonaco · 3 years
Text
His Good Sweater: Chapter 18
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Masterlist
Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!
Word Count: 7.6k
Abu Dhabi holds a special place in Pierre's heart. The food is great, the views are spectacular, and there is always plenty to do to keep him busy. Night races are some of the more exciting races too and Pierre appreciated the variety.
Coming into the final race of the season, Pierre holds on to seventh in the championship by a few points. Perez sensed the usurper creeping up on his seat and had cranked it up to eleven. 
Exams had kept you in London for the race in Brazil, where Pierre had finished sixth and Checo DNF'd. You had managed to fly out for the weekend in Saudi Arabia, where Perez had finished fifth and closed the gap to Pierre to only four points behind. 
If Pierre didn't finish ahead of Perez this weekend, he was fucked. And he was at the distinct disadvantage of his good luck charm being absent, stuck in London finishing up your final few exams of the semester. Two weeks without seeing you coupled with barely hearing from you had worn on him. It wasn't purposeful on your part but Pierre's stress was already compressed like the suspension on his car. Stray an inch too far over the racing line, hit a curb too hard and it was liable to snap, sending bits and pieces flying.
Pierre checks his phone for the millionth time as he waits to check in to the hotel. Wednesday was late for this many crew members to be arriving. His main concern though was that you hadn't responded to the text he'd sent you upon landing.
"Look lively, will you?" Max claps Pierre on the shoulder and he slides his phone into his pocket. "It's the last race of the season. We get to go balls to the wall and leave it all out in the track. And here you are looking like a kicked puppy."
"Easy for you to say," Pierre starts, grinning at his friend. "You clinched the title weeks ago. You don't even have to race this weekend if you don't want to and you'd still win."
"Doesn't mean I won't be shooting for a podium."
Pierre rolls his eyes. "Yeah well we can't all be so lucky, can we?"
"Next year you'll be playing with the big dogs." Max hands the receptionist his ID, says a few words and turns back to Pierre. "Looking forward to having you as a teammate again. It was fun for those couple races and I'm sure you'll be a challenge now that you've found your groove."
"You're gonna jinx it if you keep talking." Pierre laughs, praying that it covers up the old wound Max's statement picked open. Pierre hated the idea of moving back to Red Bull but he didn't have much choice. He was still contracted to one of four Red Bull branded seats for next season. A promotion, at the very least, would help him showcase his talent and further cement his value. If he had to spend any longer than that with the team, ripping out his hair was a real possibility.
"Wasn't someone supposed to be with you this weekend?" Max quirks a brow. "Where is she?"
"In London." Max bringing you up doesn't help the pit forming in Pierre's stomach. Win or lose, seventh or eighth, Red Bull or Alpha Tauri, come Sunday Pierre wanted you at his side. Interview requests were bound to roll in either way and Pierre would need someone to ground him, a task much easier to accomplish if you were physically at his side.
"Too bad." Max clicks his tongue and takes his room keys from the receptionist. "It's gonna be a fun weekend."
"I don't think-"
Pierre's vision goes dark at the same time someone whispers, "Guess who?"
Pierre sucks in a breath, spins on his heel and wraps you in a hug in one smooth motion. You laugh as he lifts you off your feet and presses kisses to your cheeks. 
"What are you doing here?" He grabs both suitcases and tugs you aside. His room can wait.
"Tost asked me to come." Your grin is contagious, its twin appearing on Pierre's own cheeks. "He said that since you were flying out from Milan on your own there was an extra seat on the jet, so if I got myself to Nice I could fly out with the Red Bull boys."
"Seven hours trapped in a tin can with Max, Yuki and Checo?" Pierre rubs his chest. "I've got heartburn just thinking about that."
"It wasn't so bad," you say, finally giving him a proper kiss. "Yuki and I just played games on our phones the whole time. And I beat Max at Scrabble."
"How many Dutch words did he try to use?"
"Mmm, about half the words he tried were definitely not English."
"Yep, sounds about right." Pierre throws an arm around your shoulders and leads you back to the reception desk. He pays for an upgraded room when you aren't looking- though when you're assigned a suite there's not much higher you can go- and slips the woman behind the counter an extra bill for good measure.
"I could use a nap," you note, leaning against Pierre like you'd otherwise fall over. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
Pierre checks his watch. "We've got time for a nap."
"We?" Your raised eyebrow is question enough. Pierre smiles and swipes his key card once you're in the elevator with him. He hadn't looked at the price of the room but he was positive it was more than he'd spent on a single night in his entire career, considering it occupies an entire floor of the swanky hotel.
"It's date night," Pierre says simply. Initially his plan had been to invite Charles over for a game of Fifa but the Monegasque wouldn’t fault him for cancelling at the last minute. "We're in one of the most luxurious cities in the world and I'm going to show you off every chance I get. The restaurant down stairs is to die for."
Your attempt at nodding along with what he says is thwarted by a yawn. "Sleep first, eat later." Seeing as it was impossible to deny you, Pierre simply drops a kiss to the crown of your head.
"Wait until you see our room." The way your eyes light up when he says our room makes him want to say it again and again just to see you sparkle.
"I know you upgraded it, Mr. I-think-I'm-sneaky." You uncurl yourself from against his arm when the elevator chimes. "How much did it cost?"
"A few extra pennies."
The stainless steel doors open directly into the suite. The living space is dominated by a curving crescent of full length windows overlooking the cerulean harbor and the jagged steel of the city skyline beyond. Suitcase forgotten, your jaw drags along the floor as you toe off your shoes in favor of sinking onto one of the half moon couches situated around a low coffee table.
"Did you get some sort of bonus you didn't tell me about?" Pierre sees your inner engineer cataloging the chandelier dripping crystals over the carved dining table and the pattern of the black veined marble flooring. "This cost more than a few pennies."
"I didn't really look at the price so it's possible," he admits. In the end it was worth it to see you like this, happy as a pig in mud. Pierre was in his element at the track you were in yours in beautiful buildings. For all Pierre cared you could be sharing a dingy room at a motel; it would still be five star worthy with you there. 
Every once in a while though, you deserve a bit of pampering for all you put up with. Late nights and months apart wasn’t easy on either of you, but you stuck by him. And when the day comes that Pierre retires or loses his seat, you would be the one there to comfort him. Spending frivolous amounts of money to see you smile was nothing in the grand scheme of things. 
In Pierre’s world, money is temporary, you are forever.
"Well I have half a mind to tear into you for spending so much on a room we won't spend all that much time in," you start, your star-speckled gaze landing on Pierre, "the view is too pretty to be upset about."
"Mine isn't half bad either." You laugh, tucking an errant hair behind your ear. You both know he isn’t referring to the glittering bay or the expensive furnishings.
"Up," Pierre demands softly, holding out his hand. Your hand is warm and dwarfed by his long fingers but you barely seem to notice. The heart in his chest pounds for no discernable reason as he leads you down the narrow hall past doors leading to what he can only assume are bedrooms and bathrooms, to the one at the end of the hall. Based on his mental floor plan this one has the best view, if he's guessed correctly.
Your breezy oh confirms his hunch. You stutter at the threshold, coming up short behind him to bathe in the beauty of the sea, dotted through with white sails. Sunlight twinkles off the waves and if he breathes deep enough, he can almost smell the salt.
"Come on," Pierre says with a chuckle, urging you to fall into the fluffy down of the bed with him. You follow reluctantly, too enamored by the sights to pay any real attention to how Pierre arranges your limbs to his liking, your head resting on his chest and your joined hands laying atop his stomach.
"How about that nap?" He murmurs, running the fingers of his free hand through your unbound hair. 
You sigh and snuggle in closer. It was rare that Pierre had the opportunity to steal moments like this during a race week, when he had nothing better to do than tangle himself in you.
"I'll tell you a story." 
Just as he expected, you leap at the offer. "Can you tell me the one about the time you and Charles got in trouble when you were karting?"
Normally he opts for something fictional that allows him to embellish the details to fit his narrative. Pierre loved spinning tales rife with laughter and intrigue but he also didn't mind indulging your curiosity.
"Yeah, I can tell that one. Let me set the scene. It's midnight on a Friday at a little track outside Rouen. Two gangly teenage boys, one French and one definitely, positively not French, have nothing better to do than get themselves in trouble…"
**********
Fans began whispering when Pierre set foot in the lobby. The price of stardom was high and had taken years to get used to. Some days the bombardment of people asking for photos and autographs overwhelmed him to the point he was desperate for an out. Most people respected his boundaries and when they sensed it was too much, they backed off. Other days it was simply too much and he would mumble excuses and book it out the door.
The pressure increases tenfold when he steps into the lobby with you on his arm, the pair of you dressed to the nines. He clocks a group of women- clearly tourists based on their body language- perched on a sofa the minute their low murmurs turn into excited squeals.
Pierre mentally braces for you to stiffen or stop altogether but you do neither. You carry on unaffected, either ignoring them or completely oblivious to the women who do nothing to hide their pointed stares.
"Table for two please." You smile at the restaurant host and then at Pierre. You must not have noticed the fans then. You were getting better at coping with the photos and whispers, although your smile usually became forced the longer it dragged on, the polar opposite of you currently beaming at him.
Pierre's shoulders sag a bit when you're led to a secluded table towards the rear of the dining space. Privacy wasn't a luxury he was often afforded. With his back to a wall of windows, there were fewer angles for people to approach from which was a small comfort.
Apparently you find sitting across from Pierre unacceptable because you shuffle your chair to his side of the table before plopping down in it. Pierre shoots you a questioning look but keeps his mouth shut. Inquiring after your motives didn't tend to end well for him.
Instead he leans over to kiss your cheek, relishing the blush his lips coax to the surface.
“It all sounds good,” you say, scanning the menu. “You’ve been here before, I take it?”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah I have. It’s all wonderful.” 
The fans from the lobby remain in the blurred fringes of his vision. Pierre does his best to focus on the waitress explaining the specials. He tunes in automatically to the fan’s heavily accented English as they argue with the host, vying for a table as close to Pierre as possible.
Their phones remain out as an annoyed waiter tries and fails to coax the gaggle of girls into ordering something. Pierre drags a hand through his hair.
Being the center of attention usually doesn't bother him. Coping with the spotlight and the scrutiny that accompanies it is second nature; if the press conferences at Spa in 2019 had taught him anything, it was the importance of a solid poker face. Fame is new to you though and interactions with polite fans make you nervous. Having your picture taken without permission and splashed on social media? Forget about it. Pierre didn't care to find out how you'd react.
"Don't be nervous." You lay a hand on Pierre's thigh. The touch is enough to temporarily pause his bouncing leg. "You're going to do amazing this weekend. All you have to do is finish in front of Checo and you're golden."
How you haven't noticed the girls giggling mere yards away is beyond him. The last thing he wants to do is ruin this perfect, beautiful moment of bliss. You look gorgeous with your painted lips and that sinful black dress that he doubts can be comfortable based on how it hugs your curves like water. To top it off, the pride in your gaze is something to behold, making it impossible to doubt himself when you so clearly and openly believe he can conquer the world.
But it's better to tell you now versus you finding out on social media later. "That's not what's bothering me."
"Oh?" You sit straighter and set the menu down. "What is it then? Because if it's Horner, I have no problem marching in there and chewing him out. Birdy will back me up."
Despite himself, Pierre can't hold back his smile. "Where did all this confidence come from, hmm?"
"I'm learning," you insist, nodding your head firmly. "I'm growing as a person and you should be proud."
"I never said I wasn't." Maybe you'd spent the last month at university interacting with racing fans on campus. Perhaps being exposed to endless questions in a setting you controlled was the key. "Did you take a course in confidence at university?"
You scrunch up your nose and laugh in the most adorable way. Pierre's heart lurches at the sight, regardless if it was him you were laughing at.
"No, but I did make a few new friends that have a habit of pestering me about you." You jab a finger in his side for good measure. "It helped, I think. I don't look for cameras as much anymore. You're my focus now, not paps that may or may not be lurking in bushes."
"I knew it." Pierre is slightly impressed that he'd hit the nail squarely on the head. "I figured there had to be someone at uni responsible for helping you out."
You shrug and purse your lips. "I guess we'll have to see how I handle this weekend. I mean, there's bound to be press trying to corner me, what with the stakes and all. But I think I can take them." You raise your fists in front of your face and Pierre has to laugh. 
“Throw a punch like that and you’ll break a finger.” He takes one of your clenched fists in his and untucks your thumb from under your fingers. “That’s how you make a proper fist. And you hit with these knuckles here- make sure you distribute the blow across all four, or you’ll be hurting.”
“Regardless,” you say, jabbing the air a few times, “The shock factor of having little old me in their face ought to be enough to earn me an advantage.”
Pierre finishes the lap to circle back to the topic at hand. "How about we test your confidence?” 
"Okay," you say, dragging out the 'a' until it hangs in the air between you like a spider's web. 
Pierre rakes a hand through his hair and nods to the girls a few tables away. "They've been taking pictures since we sat down. I'm sure they'll be all over Instagram in an hour, if they aren't already."
You steal a glance at the table in question under the guise of grabbing something from your purse. You hum, contemplating how to go about responding. Pierre is almost certain you'll ask to head back upstairs where it's just the two of you, no cameras or outside influence to ruin your night. His wallet is already out under the table, ready to leave a hefty tip for putting up with your drink-and-dash.
“We aren’t doing anything interesting,” you point out, swirling the knuckle’s worth of whiskey in your glass. “Why do they feel the need to document every passing second?”
Pierre lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s just what some people do. If you’re uncomfortable we can go.”
“Who said anything about leaving?” You scoff, the corners of your lips turned up in a teasing smile. “I figure the best course of action is to give them something worth photographing.”
“What do you-”
Pierre’s yelp is decidedly unsexy when you yank him forward by his tie and attach your lips to his. Caught entirely off guard, he flounders for a moment before he catches himself and sinks into you. One hand on your cheek and the other creeping up your thigh, Pierre slides his tongue over the seam of your lips. You don't hesitate to obey the silent command.
He should be embarrassed. He should be contemplating the consequences of this kiss being splashed across tabloids the world over. He can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re the only release he needs and something as simple as a kiss sets his skin alight and causes any sane thoughts to trickle from his head.
Nothing matters. You're kissing him and your hand is a few inches below his hip on his right thigh, burning a brand that he prays leaves a puckered pink scar. Your scent and your mouth and your unmistakable hiss of pleasure saps the worry from his limbs. He's floating up off his chair, lungs filling with helium as you steal every last molecule of oxygen from the room.
Just like that, Pierre is the one that's roaring to leave for an entirely different reason.
Your hand on his jaw keeps your lips a hair's breadth apart as you whisper, "Are they staring?"
A blissed out nod is all he manages. Thoughts evade him and speaking is utterly out of the question when your lips are within striking distance. He surges forward for another kiss, heavier on teeth than on tongue. He makes sure to hold your lower lip between his teeth longer than necessary, putting on a show now that you've given him permission.
"Pierre," you murmur, using the hand splayed on his chest to push him away. The whine that escapes him is wholly unintentional. Thankfully it's low enough that only you hear, pressing a finger to your sinful lips.
"Down, boy." You extricate his hand from the dimpled flesh of your hip and place it chastely in his own lap. "We've accomplished what I wanted to."
Saying you tossing a wink over your shoulder at the intrusive fans isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen would be a lie. Pierre needed to be sure to thank Daniel's girlfriend the next time he saw her for whatever the hell she said to finally bestow you with a healthy serving of self-assurance because this new you is an entirely different entity, one Pierre intends to explore at the next opportunity.
"Problem solved." You brush your hands together and Pierre half expects to see dust clouds in the air like you'd just finished a woodshop project. 
Pierre's brain is operating on a ten second delay. So really, normal operating procedure when he was in your vicinity. "I don't think we've accomplished everything I'd like to get done."
"We have a dinner to finish first." You pick up your menu and resume browsing like you hadn't just forcibly ripped his appetite for anything other than you right out of him. "The salmon sounds good, don't you think?"
"You sound good," Pierre mumbles under his breath and picks up his own menu. God, he'd love to let his fingers drift to the apex of your thighs. You’re always cute when you squirm. It was so simple to do too, all you needed was a brush of his knuckle to your center and you'd be gasping.
"Are you ready to order?"
The soft-spoken waitress bursts Pierre's bubble. She brings fresh drinks and jots down an order of two salmon fillets and leaves with a smile. 
How Pierre has managed to make it this long without fucking you is beyond him. From the moment you surprised him in the lobby, his limbs have been thrumming with energy. And now your surprise kiss had been the pebble that preceded an avalanche of feverish longing. Those red painted lips would look better wrapped around his-
The pointed toe of your shoe digs into his calf. "Quit staring."
"Either you let me daydream or you let me take you upstairs,” Pierre quips back, licking his lips before he can catch himself.
"Can we get through one date without you mentally undressing me?"
Pierre dips his grin in a vat of lust, his words dripping with waxy promise. "No. Not when I know that as soon as we're alone, you'll let me do what I want."
"And what about what I want?" Your pouted lip does absolutely nothing but push his mind further in the gutter. 
"Your wish is my command." His hand floats under the hem of your dress to graze along your core. And there it is, that sound he would swim across oceans to hear, your chastizing gasp of surprise. 
The cross way you whisper his name is a thing of dreams. No one else's name sounded like that on your tongue, that honor is reserved solely for Pierre. The two breathless syllables are more exhilarating than standing on the top step. The rush of adrenaline that accompanies them is ten times what he is rewarded with when passing a world champion on track. He'll give it all up to hear you repeat it when you're pissed or lonely or tired- he just wants your voice echoing in his ears like a broken record.
You move his hand a safe distance down your thigh, nearly at your knee. Pierre gives your leg a sharp squeeze. "Can we please get our dinner to go?"
"Not tonight. You can wait, mon amour."
The French rolls off your tongue awkwardly but Pierre will be the last to complain. Your encyclopedic knowledge of which buttons to press when had come back to bite him in the ass.
"That's not fair." His pout is a mirror image of the one you turned on him earlier. "You can't use my own language against me."
You pat your pockets as if searching for something and shrug when you come up empty. "I don't see a rulebook anywhere."
Reminding you what happens when you tease him shoots to the top of his to do list. "I'll play if you wanna play, ma chérie. Don't bite off more than you can chew."
"I think you're forgetting who usually wins off track."
Pierre can't help it. He takes advantage of his superior reflexes and surges forward to claim another searing kiss. You did normally win and it wasn't for lack of trying on his end. No matter the tactic he employed, you generally got the better of him. Not that he minded.
"Why don't you come here?" He purposely grazes his lips to your ear as he speaks and grins when a shiver runs down your spine. 
"Because we are in public," you hiss back, though the way your head tips to the side betrays you. Pierre's nose touches the underside of your jaw and you struggle to find your breath.
"We should eat." A self satisfied smile splits his face when he notices your heaving chest and wild eyes. 
"When did our food get here?" Pierre did that. He got you so worked up that you blocked out your surroundings so thoroughly that you hadn't heard the clink of plates. Pierre wears that fact like a badge of honor.
"A minute or so ago. Remind me again who's winning?"
"We may be even," you relent, adjusting the skirt of your dress. Yeah, even isn't the word he would pick, considering how flustered you are. It's a good thing Pierre has learned to eat with one hand because he doesn't plan on moving the arm currently slung over the back of your chair anytime soon. His finger traces the letters of his name on the bare skin of your shoulder. Whether you realize what he's writing or not you lean into him as you eat, falling in closer with each lemon-scented bite.
"Excuse me?"
You don't bother to look up but Pierre does. Disappointment washes over him when he is met by one of the fans, apparently deeming now to be the appropriate time to approach him, while clearly on a date, in the middle of a meal.
"I'll be happy to take a photo once I'm done." Sometimes passive aggressiveness works best with people like this, who have no regard for personal space. "Right now I would prefer to be alone, thanks."
"Oh, right." The blonde giggles, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You two make a… cute couple?" The end of her sentence turns up and your fork falls to your plate.
Pierre tucks you a little closer to his side, both possessive and reassuring. "We know."
Your discomfort is plain, the way you curl in on yourself making his heart hurt. But you surprise him by taking a deep breath and turning to the woman with a smile. 
"If you'd let us finish our meal, I would appreciate it. We can stop by on our way out and chat with you." Sylvie would be proud of that answer. Diplomatically phrased and said with a smile that negates any negative connotations.
"Of course." The blonde's smile is sickly sweet. To Pierre she adds, "Good luck on Sunday."
Pierre nods. The woman's rude behavior didn't warrant a verbal response. She mumbles a feeble goodbye before slinking back to her friends. If nothing else at least their whispers died down, put out by his behavior. 
Pierre loves his fans. Without them he wouldn't have a sport to compete in, and of course he appreciated their endless support. Stopping for photos or autographs had gotten him in trouble with Marko multiple times for being late to meetings that usually turned out to be pointless anyway. As a whole, their enthusiasm gives him an extra boost on Sundays and lifts his spirits after a bad weekend.
And then sometimes there were people like the blonde woman that had interrupted his dinner. Those people he has far less tolerance for. Basic manners were imperative to Pierre giving someone the light of day, otherwise he saw no need to waste time and energy on them.
"All good, ma chérie?" Pierre rubs your shoulder, hoping it'll stave off any anxiety.
"I'm good," you confirm with a nod of your head. "Let's finish up and go to our room."
Pierre presses a kiss to your temple and scarfs down the remainder of his meal in record time. He flags down the waitress and hands her his card, leaving a substantial tip when she returns with the check.
“Can you distract that table?” Pierre asks, aware of how unusual the request likely is. “I’d like to get out of here without making a scene.”
“Of course,” the waitress says with a warm, sincere smile. Pierre waits until she loudly announces, “Excuse me? Your card has been declined, do you have another method of payment?”
Neither of you can contain your laughter as you stumble through the lobby. In the sanctity of the elevator, Pierre wraps his arms around your middle and molds himself against you. "You look especially gorgeous tonight."
"You're not too bad yourself." One of your hands finds the nape of his neck, guiding his face to the crook of your shoulder. Pierre takes the invitation at face value and nips at the sensitive skin. Your hum goes straight to his cock, twitching against the swell of your ass.
"I win," you purr, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging. 
For once Pierre is glad to be in the world's slowest elevator. Since he's already lost, he might as well lose in style. He spins you to face the mirrored wall. And because he knows it'll make you tremble, he trails his hand lazily over your throat to grip your jaw.
A low moan leaves your parted lips. Pierre studies your reflection, from your hands gripping the railing to the skin dimpling beneath his fingers. 
"Fine, you win this time. But I think you and I both know, I'll come out ahead in the end."
**********
Waking up to soft kisses will never get old. Thirty years from now when Pierre was retired and you fell asleep each night with his arms around you, you'd still yearn for the brush of his lips to your cheeks, neck, and shoulders to rouse you from the violet shores of sleep.
"Good morning," you mumble, a sentiment which Pierre echoes with his gruff, sleep tinged voice. "Sleep well?"
"Best sleep I've ever gotten. You tired me out last night." You both grin at the reminder. Fueled by a slight tinge of jealousy after the women at the restaurant made eyes at him, you had refused to let him tumble into bed until well past midnight, when you both were well and truly exhausted. Thursday is press day, nothing strenuous that he couldn't afford to be a little sore for.
Pierre rolls to straddle your hips, lips capturing yours for a proper kiss. The taste of freshly brushed mint makes your skin tingle when he tugs your lip between his teeth.
"It's too early for that." You throw your arms around his neck and urge him to bend his elbows until he falls atop you. It takes him a moment to snuggle in, his head on your chest and his arms sliding under your middle. 
You're convinced that ten minutes in this position can cure any ailments, physical or mental. The weight of your soulmate pressing into you, forcing you to focus on breathing instead of whatever might be bothering you. It's easy to forget about the outside world when everything you require to be happy is wrapped around you like a blanket.
You stroke a hand over Pierre's hair until his breathing evens out, only rousing him when the sun peeks over the harbor. Amiable silence fills the space as hues of orange and pink paint Pierre in swaths of color. Suddenly you're seeing him for the first time, completely enamored by the angles of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his stubbled jaw. The golden hour of dawn shines on it's golden boy, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he turns towards the warmth calling him home.
"Pyry and I are going for a run soon if you'd like to come with us."
You cringe. Running used to be fun when you were in school, but seeing as you hadn't properly trained in years you doubted you could keep up with a pair of professionals. "How about you text me when you're back and I'll come to the gym with you? It looks fancy, if George's snaps are anything to go by."
Pierre trails kisses up your sternum, over your neck and only speaks once he's reached your lips. "Looking at other men, are you?"
"Shut up," you laugh, shoving him off you. "I'll have you know it was a rare shirt on picture, thank you very much. I don't need to see George shirtless ever again."
A satisfied, "Good," rumbles from Pierre's chest and he stands to stretch the lingering sleep from his limbs. Clad in nothing but a pair of white four inch inseam shorts and with his back to you, you grin as an idea forms. You scramble forward before he can process you moving and smack his ass so hard he yelps.
"Gotcha!" You devolve into a fit of giggles as he rubs the spot you hit, whining about you taking advantage of his distraction.
"You like it," you tease, and Pierre remains strictly pouty for two whole seconds before he breaks into a grin and nods. "Now put on a shirt and get downstairs before Pyry calls you and you get reamed for being late again."
Pierre leans down for one last kiss before rushing off to the lobby. Waking up before the sun leaves you plenty of time to laze about if you choose to. Kicking your butt into gear seems like the better option so you drag yourself out of the relative warmth of the sheets and shuffle to the kitchen in search of coffee. 
Apparently the suite came fully stocked with a handful of different freshly ground blends, and much to your delight you recognize one of your favorites. You scroll through the room service menu on your phone while it brews. Without a doubt Pyry would rope you in to whatever workout he had planned for Pierre, albeit giving you a watered down version of what he gave the driver. Regardless, it would still be grueling and you needed to fuel up.
A hearty breakfast of fresh fruit and cinnamon sugar oatmeal shows up at your door ten minutes later. You're just finishing up when Pierre's snapchat comes through and you nearly choke.
Come on down baby
The sweaty, shirtless selfie that accompanies the caption is wholly unnecessary. Pierre's stupid tongue sticks out and the fingers of one hand are tangled in his hair. The muscle of his bicep is perfectly flexed, an obvious but appreciated attempt to rile you up. You shamelessly screenshot the photo before it disappears to save it for later.
You change into a simple set of leggings and a loose t-shirt and head to the elevator, curating your music queue on the way down.
The outdoor gym overlooks a pool of the same crystalline blue as the sea not far beyond. A few Alpha Tauri and Red Bull team members you recognize occupy a handful of machines. You wave at the ones you recognize, including Alana- she was a sight for sore eyes. You make a mental note to catch up with her at some point today, as you're sure to cross paths again.
Pyry spots you before Pierre does and waves you over. "Start stretching," the fin orders, "I'm glad you dressed for the occasion this time."
"I've learned my lesson." You plop down next to Pierre and lean into a stretch to stage whisper, "He drives you this hard?"
"Get used to it." Pierre shoots you a grin that sets you on fire. He's got a shirt on now, which means he only took it off earlier to send you that snap. Tease.
Any other time you'd chide him for his behavior but this weekend you let it slide. Tension has been brewing since the moment you spotted him across the lobby; simple things tip you off to the stress winding up in him. If flirting could offer him a small amount of release, then so be it, even if it was torturous for you to see him like this and be unable to do anything about it.
"If you two can't get through this without making heart eyes at each other I'll separate you," Pyry warns, pushing at your shoulders and helping you stretch a few more inches. You hide your wince and laugh, leaning into the slight burn.
"Sorry coach," Pierre chimes in, "I'll keep my hands to myself, don't worry." He accepts Pyry's hand to be pulled to his feet. Bouncing on his toes he throws a few punches at the air and catches your gaze over his trainer's shoulder.
"Definitely not you I'm worried about."
As Pyry says it, you blow Pierre a kiss. You quickly tuck your hands behind your back when Pyry's head whips around. Your cheshire grin gets you off the hook and Pyry just points to the stationary bike in silent command. At least he was going easy on you.
Headphones pumping a Pierre curated playlist, you lose track of time as you cycle mile after mile. Pierre sparring on the fringes of your vision helps distract you from burning muscles. Sweat soaks his black tee and is absorbed by the waistband of his oddly patterned orange and white shorts. No matter how incessantly you tease him for his fashion choices, he never fails to amaze you for how well he pulls it all off.
Lost in the music and the incredible view, it takes you a moment to realize Pierre's lips aren't just moving silently. You yank out an ear bud and blubber, "What did you say?"
Pierre's breathless laugh is accompanied by a shake of his head. He half curls in on himself, hands on his hips and mouth agape as he tries to catch his breath. The image stirs memories of the last night, when he was panting just like that but with nothing obscuring you from drinking in his godlike muscled body.
"I said," Pierre starts, walking over to kiss your cheek, "I need a shower before press. I'm going upstairs. You can stay here and Pyry can take you through some more-"
"No thanks!" Pyry shrugs off your immediate refusal. Training top tier athletes and training you sat at polar opposite ends of the spectrum and often times the Fin pushed you farther than you thought capable. You'd like to be able to function tomorrow, thank you very much.
The elevator ride to the suite is filled with salted kisses and wet touches. A breadcrumb trail of clothing leads from the stainless steel doors to the glass encased shower. There's not enough time to worship Pierre like you'd wanted to but he sighs when you run a soapy cloth over his body. Your lips follow the suds, leaving light kisses to the tender muscles. By the time you pour shampoo in your palm and lightly scratch at his scalp to work it into a lather, he's practically purring.
Media appearances are a necessary part of being a driver. Pierre usually handled them well enough on his own and occasionally with Sylvie's help when she could be bothered to get off her phone for a few minutes, but having you with him is different. You pride yourself on reading him well enough to know exactly what he needs. Some days, when the press isn't a pack of rabid animals, he returns to his driver's room and needs nothing more than a quick kiss to have him righted. On days when the pack of piranhas descend to feast on the bones of a bad session or the whispering of drama, a delicate touch is required.
If your suspicion proves right, today would be the latter. Being ahead of the frenzy might take the edge off when Pierre got in the thick of it.
When the tap cuts off, you step out and wrap Pierre in a fluffy towel. His smile communicates how grateful he is- and that he knows what you're doing.
You hand him a stack of Alpha Tauri branded clothes and sit on the foot of the bed. "Do you want me to come to the paddock with you?"
Pierre pauses with his shirt half on. "If you don't mind."
"Of course I don't mind." You pluck a few of his rings from the nightstand and hold out your hand. "You have to complete the look."
"What would I do without you," he murmurs, slipping one on his pinky and one on the thumb of his opposite hand.
"Probably be ridiculed for your lack of fashion sense."
**********
As a driver's girlfriend, you had come to grips with being relegated to a background role when it came to team events. You have to ask Sylvie to repeat herself twice before her words sink in.
"Come with me to the media pen," the woman grits out. Apparently Tost intended to have some fun torturing the woman before he fired her at the end of the season. Hopefully whoever Pierre got stuck with next was a bit more personable than Sylvie.
"Pierre told me to wait here," you say, gesturing to the garage buzzing around you. You were a rock and the mechanics were the stream, parting around you without a care in the world. You were barely a blip on their radar, everyone too honed in on their tasks to pay you any mind.
"And now I'm telling you to come with me. The other wives and girlfriends are in attendance and it'll look odd if you're not there too." Clearly, Sylvie didn't like the idea. And any idea that pissed Sylvie off sounded like a good one.
"I know the way," you say and breeze past her. Your feet follow the familiar path to the cluster of reporters crowded around metal gates, keeping the drivers in like caged animals. It was fitting, considering how often people referred to the sport as a traveling circus.
Pierre is already knee deep in an interview with one of the more popular journalists in the bunch, Will Buxton. Careful to stay out of the lens, you lean against the guardrail to listen in. So far it seems to be going well, Pierre's laugh brings a smile to your face.
"So, Pierre." Will shifts on his feet, pausing to create a sense of drama. "Your seat for next year. We know you'll be in Alpha Tauri or at Red Bull. Only a few points separate you from being demoted right back to eighth in the championship, which would officially relegate you to keep your seat at Alpha for the upcoming season. Are you worried about a mechanical problem or an accident stripping you of your chance to prove yourself and leaving you stuck where you are?"
Your stomach sinks. Buxton knew how to phrase a question, you had to give him that. Each word had been carefully chosen to elicit an emotional response from Pierre. You hate seeing him backed into a corner, forced to answer the same questions again and again, helpless to prevent it.
"Well first of all I'd like to stay that I'm not stuck at Alpha." Pierre shifts his weight and you exhale. Buxton's poisoned dart had missed its mark.
"Given a few years of development I know we could have a really competitive car. But it's more so that I'm ready to move up, fight with the leaders now instead of waiting. I'm in my prime and I don't want to let that pass me by.
"So no, I'm not worried about things that are out of my control. My team has given me an amazing car this year and I'm not concerned about mechanical problems. Things out of my control aren't worth my energy. There's nothing I can do about it so I don't even give it thought. I'll focus on my driving and pushing my limit- if an accident happens, I'm just a passenger."
"Well said." Buxton nods and turns away, effectively dismissing Pierre. As soon as he's out of the camera's view he's reaching for you and you meet him halfway. Sylvie trails after you as Pierre leads you through to the Alpha garage.
"Five minutes until your briefing," Alana says the second you enter. "And hey girl. Don't think I've forgotten about that sweater I loaned you. I still want it back!"
Your friend doesn't leave any room for rebuttal before heading for the conference room, presumably to set up whatever presentation she had created. Sylvie had disappeared too, leaving you as the only one for Pierre to focus on.
"You think I can do it?" He asks quietly, playing with your interlaced fingers.
"I don't think." You tilt his chin up so he's looking at you. "I know. And I'll be right here when you cross that line on Sunday and bring home points. You've got this, baby. Don't doubt yourself now."
"Pierre!"
Your grip on his chin prevents him from following the voice, not that he would if he could. You shoot him a raucous grin, "Red Bull colors would look pretty good on me, huh?"
Pierre's smile is brighter than all the stars in the sky. "Anything with my name on it will do.”
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allthingsarmin · 3 years
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fratboy/stoner armin!! in love with how you write asshole! armin ❤
Thank you for your request! I feel I didn’t do a good job with this one, so I will probably go back later and rewrite it. (And I really appreciate your feedback <3 I hope this dose of asshole!armin will satisfy your needs haha)~
MINORS DNI! Ft. NSFW TOPICS (weed, one mention of vomit, and sex (groping, drunk noncon), mentions of religion, one mention of sexaul assault).
Fem!Reader, FemBodied!Reader
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who dresses like a gentleman - wearing white shorts and a white button-up collared shirt under a cerulean sweater that compliments his mesmerizing blue eyes as well as a dainty silver watch on his left wrist and always comes to class with a freshly shaven face and cologne that is just a little too “manly” for him - but acts like a complete hooligan, making inappropriate jokes in class, pranking innocent passersby on campus, and getting black-out drunk at frat parties every Friday night.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who looks so poised and has such a refined posture, having enough manners (like holding the door open) to swoon enough girls but is such a menace when it comes to anything serious… like being harshly shushed in the library because he was being too loud or skipping finals to go on a spontaneous road trip with his frat buddies then sending an email to his professor saying he was sick, even printing out a fake doctor’s note, or pranking the sorority across the street by TPing their house or even how he can’t seem to care less when the police ruthlessly question him because there have been so many reports of sexual assault done by his frat friends.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who thinks he is so smart because he’s a business major and genuinely believes he is better than everyone else because he gets out of class to go to all these events even though he is undoubtedly one of the most irresponsible and reckless people on campus… having unprotected sex with countless unfortunate women who have fallen for his false compliments, throwing parties that become too big for him to handle - so loud the police become involved, so messy with red cups littering the floor and vomit being found in every trashcan in the house - and failing nearly every class he’s in because “it’s too easy for me, my advisor put me in the wrong class, and the teacher is an old hag.”
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin whose backpack is filled with anything but college textbooks and notebooks, like a chewed pencil, three packs of condoms, some headphones, and an energy drink.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who swears he’s being a good boy when his rich parents who are on their abroad trip ask him how he’s doing over the phone but is actually spending most of his weekly allowance buying weed and smoking it with his frat buddies, who often gets into intense fights with them because he “knows he had two ounces left, but now he only has one,” and who shows up to class high the few times he does actually decide to go - eyes red, a constant small smirk, can’t stop rambling about useless things.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who walks together with his big group of frat friends, taking up large amounts of room on the sidewalk and in restaurants, cat-calling girls they think look fuckable and loudly mocking those who look prude.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who has a main Instagram where he looks so well-mannered, posting pictures with his family or his frat buddies when they go on a trip together but also has a secret Instagram where he posts thirst traps, follows barely clothed women, and stalks accounts of girls who go the same college as him, even DMing the men at your college to see if they have your nudes.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who knows how handsome he is, who knows how easy it is to make your knees weak and your heart flutter when he looks at you from across the campus soccer field with such intent, biting his lip, maliciously smiling because yet another girl has fallen for his seemingly innocent aura as you excitedly wave at him.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who revels in the fact that he can convince you to do anything. When he’s whining so pathetically in the driver’s seat and pressuring you to just hit the blunt one time while he locks you in his car that’s parked on the far end of the campus parking lot. And you, so submissive and selfless sitting in the passenger seat, not wanting to disappoint him because his frown harshly tugs at your heart, take a hit, choking on the fumes and heart pounding at the unfamiliarity as a warm buzz sets in.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who pressures you to skip class with him so that you both can go to the campus cafeteria and buy an unholy amount of cookies and chips because he’s high and he’s hungry… and now you know why his bedsheets at the frat house reek of weed and why his crusty floor is littered with food wrappers.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who so easily persuaded you to play those type of sexually suggestive games at the weekend frat party where everyone is drunk, breath seething with vodka, and sweatily rubbing up against each other, so horny for a release, and so desperate to feel something besides the headache from the loud music… who you somehow wind up in the closet with, his right arm holding you close against his body as his left hand slithers into your panties and forces itself into your cunt because he wanted you to play ‘seven minutes in heaven.’
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who promises that there’s nothing to be afraid of because he’s ‘secretly a sweetheart’ but calls you his “bitch” and pats his thigh, signaling that he wants you to come sit in his lap so that he can feel you up in front of his friends at the frat party when drinking cheap, shitty beer.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who swears he won’t bite but gets you so drunk at parties that you can’t even tell him no when he takes you upstairs, locks the door, and practically forces his hard, throbbing cock into you while holding you into a mating press, covering your mouth to suppress your cries as his tongue trails your jawline and neck.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who prays before every dinner, keeps a bible in the lowest drawer of his nightstand, and goes to church promptly at 10am every Sunday with his frat buddies despite being hungover. Sitting in the front pews, he listens intently to the preacher, letting the word of God spill into his heart even though he was rigorously fisting his cock the night before to your pictures on Instagram, cumming four times but his balls still swollen and cock still desperate for your messy cunt, having to hold back his needy whimpers each time his slender fingers brisk past his sensitive tip as he imagines your warm, wet tongue licking off the pre-cum.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who invites you to a Sunday lunch with his frat. Of course, he looks so polished: a clean, white button-up with a baby blue sweater hanging around his shoulders and a pair of new Sperrys. When you show him what you’re wearing, he tells you that you could do better as he convinces you to wear something a little low-cut but not too much because he doesn’t want his frat buddies to think he’s dating a slut.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin whose friends look at you like starving dogs when you both finally get to the restaurant, never including you in the conversation except for when they comment on your body and how irresistible it is.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who doesn’t defend you and instead soaks up all of this appraisal.
“Yeah, she’s a good toy to play with,” he proudly smiles while gripping your thigh in his strong, pale hands.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who makes you order a small salad and only allows you to drink water because “you need to watch your figure.”
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who’s the perfect predator, the perfect manipulator. He can do whatever he wants without ever getting caught, howling at the fact that you try to tell advisors or teachers how Armin violated and manipulated you, but they just never believe you. “You’re talking about Armin? Armin Arlert? He would never do anything like that,” they chuckle… because everyone knows Armin’s an angel; he’s part of the frat, so that makes him a good boy, right?
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who you can’t possibly ever escape from because he’s done such a good job at manipulating you to be his little slutty girlfriend, his heaven-like appearance making it impossible for others to believe what a devil he is, isolating you as he convinced all of your friends that you’re just some cock-hungry whore.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who has done such a good job at defiling you, successfully taking your virginity and eagerly pressuring you to do things for him, letting him so easily enter your sloppy cunt as he takes in the sight of your tender breasts, contorted face, and bright red hand imprints on your thighs.
ᵔᴥᵔ Fratboy!armin who despite all the manipulation and sexist comments, you don’t want to leave because he smells so sweet thanks to all the treats he eats; because his arm muscles look so good when he plays golf with his rude friends; because he makes your high from weed more fun as you two cuddle and talk about nonsense; because he is able to bury your shy side and awaken your submissive side as he slowly degrades the human being in you and raises a filthy slut whose pussy he makes so wet, so needy, and so pathetically sloppy.
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