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#aw fuck i hit on a good line there at the end what the hell
korosenseisfucktoy · 3 days ago
Untitled Rating: Teen Relationship: Bakugo Katsuki | Dynamight/Riley Himari Character/OC Maeko Onami, Kazuki Takami, and Sumire Sakamata belong to @cthulus-bong-water-420
There’s a story here. I just have to word it properly. Sometimes I wonder if Kazuki was right. I shouldn’t have seen it. I should have stayed in the lunchroom. Maybe it’d make me hurt less in the long run. Yet here I was, staring at the floor in awe as the feet behind me caught up. A hand hit my shoulder, and mine flew up.
But wait, how did we get here? Who am I? Well, my name is Riley Himari, adopted daughter of Ahmya Himari, who you’ll know as Ahmya Sakamata, wife of Kugo and Maeko Sakamata. I’ve got 7 siblings, Kazuki, Sumire, Enyo and Maiko, Hotaru, and Shella. And Shohei but he doesn’t come until much later. Now as for who I am? I’m Bakugo motherfucking Katsuki’s girlfriend that’s who. 
Now for real how we got here, well, you’ll just have to read it for yourself man.
So I was “born” on a bright Autumn day, the doctors said I was born mid November which pretty much makes me a Sagittarius but my dad was absent and my mom died shortly after my delivery so I was put into the foster care system. Mommy (Ahmya) found me and decided I was perfect for her. That led to me meeting Mama Maeko and her little son Kazuki.
Eventually Maeko met Kugo, and shortly after, so did my mommy. When my mommy met Kugo, she ended up getting arrested that same day, and met back up with Maeko, who she told about Kugo. Then a few months later they formed a throuple and then they got married and had Sumire!
Anyway then they went down the line and had some other kids. I applied to UA with Kazuki, he got into the hero course, but I was fine with the general studies course, too risky for me. We were split up, but we always saw each other for lunch and sat with some of the upperclassmen we knew from middle school. There was Kirishima, who we all knew was gay, Mina, who was THE bad bitch, Kaminari, the phone charger, Sero, the one who liked the flirt, and occasionally Jiro, a cool kid with good music taste.
These were mostly Kazu’s friends, I only knew Kiri, Jiro, and Mina. Sometimes we’d even get to see Mama, and we’d have lunch in her office. Though one day on my way to surprise her, I could hear a scuffle inside, thinking the worst, I sent an emergency ping to Kazuki and ran in, only to be greeted with the chest of a very loud man.
My hands shot to my ears, nobody had ever yelled at me before, sure I got into the occasional middle school beatdown where I had to rock somebody’s shit but my hands did the talking. He looked back down at me and on instinct my quirk activated.
“Oi! Where the hell did you go?!” he yelled more, I squeaked again. People were beginning to lean over to see now. I backed up a few steps as Mama stepped forward. “What the hell is happening right now? I said to the office and I- who are you yelling at?” He pointed right in front of my nose “There’s some bitch out here who bumped into me and then disappeared and I KNOW she’s here.”
Mama reached out, touching my head. “That’s just Riley. Come on in, honey, I have candy in the top left drawer, you can stay here until you’re visible again and you calm down, I’ll let Vlad know.” She gave me a nice smile and sent me behind her. Then proceeded to give the boy a 10 minute talk about something. In that time I completely forgot the ping I had sent Kazu, so the panicked yelling and the “MOMMY!!” that came from him as he raced up to hug her was expected. 
After assuring him that she was okay, he came in and sat with me, grabbing my arm so he knew I was in the chair and took a few candies with me. “Can’t believe you alerted me for fucking Bakugo.” 
A note about me. No joke opportunity is passed up.
“You fucked that loud ass?”
I was giggling as he rolled his eyes. “Yes, Riley, I fucked Bakugou.” Mama spoke from the doorway “Of all the students you can fuck in my class, he’s third to last on the approval list.”
Bakugo made a noise and the door cracked once more. About 3 minutes later, Mama came back in, made the call to Vlad, and let me sit down for a while. I was starting to lose feeling in my feet so I went back, it took a bit of will but it was better than not being able to feel my feet. I hung out for a few hours until the bell rang, then walked back to class with Kazuki.
I went home that day with a sigh. With special permission from the faculty, I was allowed to stay with Kazu in the dorms, so I went home with him and chatted with people I knew for a while. “Riley, why are you here so early? Usually you have practice.” Shoto asked, poking me. “Practice was cancelled today, so I’m home. Is that a problem?” I teased. He shook his head and I laughed. Until the door slammed open and out popped the spiky hair from this afternoon. Kirishima came up to me. “You’ve never met him since you’ll leave and come back when he’s asleep, but Riley, I want you to meet a dear friend of mine.”
He locked eyes with me, his strawberry eyes piercing through any veil of coverage I felt I had. 
“Meet Katsuki Bakugo.” 
He stared at me for a few seconds, before stepping up towards me and making a ‘tch’ when I scooted back a bit. He stuck his hand out and frowned “take the damn thing.”
Not wanting to make him anymore angry than he was, I reluctantly grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry for this morning I guess.”
I gulped “n-no biggie, I needed a wake up call.” I said quickly, giggling nervously. He rolled his eyes once more and snatched his hand away, muttering something before leaving the house.
I released the breath I was supposedly holding. “I see you’ve met him, are you okay? He’s really scary if you don’t really know him.” Mina asked, yelling at Denki to go get my Dah. I sat down and shook my hands out “I’m fine I guess he’s been really annoying though. I met him in the hallway this morning going to my mom’s classroom for lunch because I always eat there.”
Deku nodded “That was you! He started screaming for her to come out after her quirk had activated accidentally.” eh explained, to which I flushed. He could have just left it for me to tell but somebody has Main Character Syndrome I guess. I nodded though and said I was heading upstairs when Denki brought Dah to me. At least that’d help me, even if only a little bit.
The nightly routine continued as normal, I went to my dorm, told my family I’d gotten there safely, gave an update on basketball and then helped to make dinner with Momo and Ochaco. Tonight was curry with some new recipe Momo found and some veggies. We’d all gathered around to eat and began talking about our day, some funny stories, some scary stories, but we all enjoyed each other’s company.
“Hey assholes! Keep it down!” The shouting from Bakugou upstairs, who had only gone out for ”air”, carried loudly to the down, and made some of us, including me, jump a bit. He came downstairs with a scowl, his fists smoking. “It’s your first night meeting Himari and you’re having the audacity to treat her like garbage?” Todoroki stands up. I tried to protest, but he grabbed my hand, “no, Himari, he shouldn’t be acting like such a child. In fact, he should just go back upstairs if he's going to act like that. You in no way, shape, or form deserve to be ridiculed like this. Allow me, princess.”
Ah, yes, Shoto Todoroki. He may not get the concept of being friends with a woman, but we’ve ruined him enough that he calls me Princess.Can’t say I’m angry about it though, I find it quite cute.
“But of course, sir Shoto.” I say with a smirk. Sometimes he can be too cute for his own good. “Oh yeah, Icyhot?! Why don’t you come over here and let me kick your ass!” he screams. They kept going at it for a while, Shoto being very calm about it and Bakugo continuing to scream at him.
Until the front door bursts open. On the other side is Kazuki with boxes. “Mommy made donuts.” he said simply, shrugging and putting the boxes on the table. My mommy, “industry” worker by night, baker by day. Today must have been a special day, if she’s sending donuts (she has a very strong opinion about them). 
Nobody complains though, Mommy’s bomb at cooking.
2 notes · View notes
boowanie · 15 days ago
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Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader
Genre: Angst and fluff
Warnings: Minor character death and slight mention of a panic attack. 
WC: 6.7K+
Summary: You never thought that the stranger you met one night would become someone special to you.
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“What’s happening?” Wonwoo called out as soon as he set foot into the house he shared with his close friends. He could hear the distant shouting happening somewhere in the house, a possible indication of a fight occurring between his housemates again. And he was right, there stood Seokmin and Mingyu, throwing harsh words at each other; something to do with dirty laundry sprawled across the kitchen floor.
“Didn’t I tell you to do your laundry THREE days ago Seokmin?” Mingyu bellowed at the top of his lungs. Seokmin’s glare only intensified as he clenched his right hand into a fist. Wonwoo stood at the bottom of the stairs, worried eyes observing the two.
“You yell at me for nagging you but here you are doing the same thing!” Seokmin snapped back. Before Mingyu could reply back, Joshua came in between the two, stretching his arms out to separate the fuming boys.
“Alright boys, it’s just laundry. Seokmin do your laundry now and Mingyu, take a nap to cool off or something.”
Seokmin turned on his heels, rushing down the stairs to do as he was told, greeting Wonwoo with an apologetic smile. Wonwoo sighed, walking up to his room to get the rest he was yearning for for the past week. He closed his door, padding towards his window to move the curtains shut. Without any source of light coming into his room, he laid down on his unmade bed, sighing as his head softly hit the pillows.
Wonwoo didn’t realise he fell asleep until a gentle nudge awoke him from his nap. “Wonu, it’s dinner time,” Soonyoung whispered, afraid to frighten Wonwoo with his normal tone of voice.
Wonwoo hummed in response, nuzzling his head against the pillow, “I’ll be down in a sec, Hoshi.” Soonyoung patted his cheek gently before making his way out of the room while Wonwoo tried his best to sleep again. However, Wonwoo’s ear perked up to the sound of his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans.
He released an irritated sigh as he unhurriedly answered the phone. “Hello?” Wonwoo greeted with sleep dripping from his voice. “Wonwoo?” the person on the other line asked. Wonwoo’s sleepy eyes widened at the sound of Jiyeon’s, his ex-girlfriend’s, voice. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air as Wonwoo sat up on his bed.
“What do you want?” he asked without any hint of friendliness in his voice. He heard something shuffle on Jiyeon’s end before she began to sob uncontrollably. Wonwoo could only roll his eyes at how pathetic she could be.
“P-please take me back, I promise I’ll be faithful to you and only you. He was a mistake, you have to believe me,” Jiyeon cried but Wonwoo remained stoic despite her pleas. He muttered a quick “no” before ending the call with her. He sighed for the last time before laying back down on his bed again.
Wonwoo devoured the pork belly Jeonghan left on the kitchen table for him since he took another nap after the unexpected call from Jiyeon. He began to ponder on the idea of getting back with his ex while he placed his plate on the rack. However, he quickly dismissed the idea after he remembered the pain he went through when he caught Jiyeon and her classmate in the middle of a makeout session on her bed. Wonwoo couldn’t believe his eyes and his first instinct was to punch the guy before fleeing the scene in tears.
But he couldn’t deny the hurt coursing through him after the phonecall he had with her but he also knew it was wrong to keep hurting himself like that. His eyes lingered on the washed plate, blinking once in awhile to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. Mingyu, who entered the kitchen not too long ago, watched him as he leaned silently on the fridge, careful not to scare him although it failed as soon as Wonwoo faced the door. The older male jumped, clutching his chest in the process. “Kim Mingyu, what the hell?” Mingyu waved at him from where he was standing, a sad smile on his lips.
“Wanna talk about it?” Mingyu asked. Wonwoo shook his head, knowing that he had already drunkenly poured out his feelings to Mingyu and the rest of his housemates for weeks after the breakup. He didn’t want to burden them more with his personal problems.
“Nah, I’m good. I think I just need to get some fresh air.”
He wandered around his university campus, finding the empty rooftop Mingyu mentioned the night before. Mingyu discovered it after a stressful exam where he walked around campus, trying to find somewhere to spill his tears. And that’s when he found the rooftop of the science building, empty and abandoned through the blurriness of his tears.
Wonwoo spotted the science building and made his way up through a secret passage that Mingyu instructed him to take. He climbed the rusty stairs that creaked with every step he took which alarmed him but he continued his way up anyway. When he got to the top, he found the door shut tightly which he nudged open with all the force he could muster.
When the door finally budged, Wonwoo heard a loud curse which made him panic at the sound coming from the other side.
“Who the fuck?”
“Shit I’m so so so sorry-”
“Well don’t just fucking stand there, help me up.”
Wonwoo blinked at you for a couple of seconds before your words registered in his mind. He let out a faint “oh right” before offering you his hand. You gladly took it, wincing at the shooting pain in your elbow which you were convinced was bleeding.
“Fuck, my elbow’s bleeding. Thanks a lot you idiot.”
Wonwoo reached out to grab your elbow in his hand. His eyes lingered on your bleeding elbow before taking some unused tissues that were shoved in his coat pocket. He dabbed the tissue on the bleeding wound, wincing now and again.
“You do know I’m the one bleeding and not you?” you scoffed, your eyes focused on his face rather than the blood trickling down your elbow.
“You shouldn’t have been standing there anyway,” Wonwoo muttered.
“So you think it’s my fault?” you questioned.
“No, why are you even up here at this ungodly hour,” he whispered, not wanting you to hear.
“I could ask you the same,” you replied. Wonwoo took out another tissue and asked you to hold it in place since he didn’t have any band aids with him, but you shrugged off his order and thanked him instead before taking a seat on the ground. You chugged the remaining beer in your can and crushed it with your hands.
Wonwoo watched you with curious eyes as you cracked open another can and handed it over to him. You stood up and gathered the cans of beer lying on the ground before making your way towards the door.
“Rooftop’s all yours.”
You were gone before Wonwoo could answer. He began to wonder who you were and what you were doing on the rooftop at this hour of the night but he realised that maybe you were here for the same reason he was; to get away from reality. He took a long sip of the beer you handed him, his eyes spotting a notebook where the crush cans were once scattered.
He reached out, reading the black ink across the cover of the notebook, y/n. he didn’t mean to flip through it but curiosity got the better of him and he opened the notebook to find art pieces scattered on the pages.
“Huh, aren’t you a mystery.”
You awoke the following morning to the sound of your roommate yelling at you. As soon as you opened your eyes, you instantly massaged your temples to soothe your throbbing headache but it wasn’t enough to calm the soreness you were feeling. Your roommate’s voice did nothing to help ease the pain and Seungkwan only worsened it by pushing your bedroom door against the wall with a loud thud.
“Drunk again?” he huffed, pinching his nostrils close to stop the smell of alcohol from making him gag. Seungkwan never liked it when you drank, he didn’t like the smell and he certainly hated the fact that you were slowly drowning yourself with alcohol to make the pain of losing someone go away. Seungkwan tried to convince you that he could help but you always turned down his offer with a lousy excuse that you “can handle it”. As a year passed by, your drinking habit only worsened but you still managed to ace your classes and somehow function with all the alcohol that was in your system.
“That’s the last time I’ll ever drink Seungkwan, I promise,” you stuck your pinky finger towards him, wiggling it as you waited for him to wrap his own around your finger. You really wanted to stop and this time, you wanted to keep your promise to your bestfriend to ease the worries he had for you and your health. Seungkwan could only sigh at his bestfriend as he took your pinky finger around his.
“I made you hangover soup y/n” is all he said after he turned on his heel and left your room with a quiet sigh. You looked around your room, the curtains still shut to prevent any source of light from shining through the window but the god awful smell of alcohol that reeked in your room was enough for you to stand up and pull the curtains open. You nudged the window with your hand and the sudden gust of wind had you almost stepping back by its force. You still welcomed it and as you cleaned around your room, the smell of alcohol slowly dissipated (with the help of some yankee candles).
When you entered the kitchen, the smell of bacon made your stomach churn and your nose wrinkle at the slight scent of burning food. “Seungkwan! your bacon is burning,” you yelled, walking over to remove the bacon from the frying pan. You heard Seungkwan yell something you couldn’t quite hear so you shrugged and turned off the hob. Your eyes landed on the hangover soup he made you and your stomach growled at the sight. 
“Thanks for the soup, Kwannie,” you yelled out to him.
You were thankful for the fact that your photography lecture didn’t start until one in the afternoon so you had plenty of time to soothe your headache and plan out your night carefully without having to involve bottles and bottles of soju this time. You wanted to go up to the rooftop to retrieve your notebook that you forgot to take before leaving the handsome stranger all alone. 
Your mind wandered back to him. You remembered the panic in his eyes when he saw the blood gushing down your elbow and it made you chuckle slightly. You lifted up your elbow to glance down if a scab was starting to form on the wound. Your grimaced at the sight and continued to eat your soup again.
“Hey, I found this in your jacket,” Seungkwan held up some bloody tissues with a worried look on his face. You shook your head at him, raising your pointer finger asking him to wait.
“I fell yesterday,” you finally spoke once your mouth was clear of any traces of food. Seungkwan quirked an eyebrow at you, his hands settling on his hips to wait for an explanation. 
“I was up at the rooftop last night and some guy pushed the door open and I happened to be sitting right in front of it which was totally my fault,” you explained. You watched as your bestfriend sighed, walking over to the bin to throw at the tissues.
“You should be more careful next time y/n.”
“Sorry Seungkwan,” you picked at your food guiltily. You didn’t want to worry him all the time but you always manage to anyway. He watched you pick at your food for a while before making his way over towards you.
“Look at me,” he muttered softly, bringing his hand under your chin. You raised your head to look up at him. He gave you a small smile before pressing his lips on your forehead.
“You know I’ll always be here for you y/n, right?”
Wonwoo awoke not too long ago because of Seokmin and Mingyu yet again. He rolled his eyes when he heard Mingyu yelling as Seokmin chased him around the house. He stretched his arms above his head, his top slowly riding up to reveal a small section of his lower stomach. He grabbed his glasses that were sitting on his bedside table along with the notebook that belonged to you.
He mentally noted to ask Minghao if he knew anyone called “y/n”. It seemed like you were an art student so Minghao was the first person he thought of. He stood up from his made and made his way over to his bathroom to start getting ready for his morning lectures.
He brushed his teeth slowly, his mind wandering back to how you cursed at him last night which made him chuckle at the memory. He didn’t mean to continue flipping through your artwork last night but he was mesmirised by your pieces. He even found a picture of you tucked between the last few pages of your notebook and he admired the small smile that you gave the camera. 
“WONU!” Mingyu yelled from outside, making him slightly choke on water as he gargled.
“Food’s ready downstairs!” 
“I’ll be out in a sec Mingyu.”
You fished out your phone from your pocket, turning the flashlight on to help you see the rusty stairs better. The sound of the stairs leading to the rooftop creaked slightly with every step you took. 
“These steps are going to break one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, keeping the cup of coffee near your chest to warm you up. The weather didn’t co-operate with you tonight. You were forced to wear something warm by your bestfriend and he even made you wear a beanie to protect your head from the cold.
As soon as you got to the top, you pushed the door open with your frame. When the steel door finally opened, you quickly heard a loud thud when it hit something or someone as soon as it opened. 
“Shit,” you heard a deep voice say from the other side.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you began to apologise as you pulled the door shut to reveal the person that was standing behind it and to your surprise, you found the stranger from last night, clutching his arm tightly. You both gave each other a look of shock before bursting out into a fit of laughter.
“You again?” you both said at the same time.
“I guess I deserved that,” Wonwoo said, sitting back down on the ground. You gave him a guilty look before sitting beside him. 
“I’m really sorry about your arm,” you said, poking it before sipping on your hot coffee. He quirked an eyebrow at you, “I’m surprised you’re not cursing me out right now.” You gave him another guilty look, blowing on your coffee and taking another sip to before answering him.
“That wasn’t me yesterday,” you said, giggling as Wonwoo rolled his eyes at you.
“I don’t even know your name,” you laughed.
“I remember you giving me a name last night though.”
“Yeah, something along the lines of idiot,” he teased, watching as your eyes widened in surprise again.
“I’m so embarrassing,” you groaned, placing your coffee on the ground to cover your heating face with your hands. You heard Wonwoo laugh at your embarrassment, patting your back as you continued to mutter words to yourself.
“Don’t sweat about it y/n,” he giggled. Your ears perked up to the sound of your name leaving his lips, not remembering if you told him your name or not.
“How’d you know my name,” you asked, removing your hands away from your face. He gave you a shy smile before pulling your missing notebook out of his jacket. He waved it around before handing it back to you.
“You forgot this last night and I may have snooped around.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..I was just really intrigued by your art. They’re all amazing by the way,” he complimented, rubbing the back of his neck while looking at you.
“Oh no, it’s absolutely okay. Thanks for bringing it back to me and thanks for the compliments,” you shyly replied, picking up your cup of coffee again. Comfortable silence enveloped you while you both looked at the bright moon. You suddenly remembered why you were up here.
“Shoot,” you whispered, fishing out your camera that was tucked carefully in your jacket. 
“Do you mind if I do something for my photography class?” you glaced at Wonwoo.
“No go ahead,” he smiled.
Wonwoo watched as you brought the camera up to face, adjusting the lens before taking multiple shots of the night sky. Wonwoo would be lying if he didn’t think the view before him was mesmerising. He didn’t know why the beating of his heart fastened when you looked satisfied at the shots you took.
“Can I ask for your opinion...” you started.
“Right, so can I ask for your opinion on these pictures Wonwoo?” you shyly asked him, tucking piece of hair behind your ear.
“Let me see them,” he scooted closer to you, leaning down to look at the pictures.
And that’s how you and Wonwoo spent the rest of the night, chatting about your art, his course and anything that you and him could think of. You and Wonwoo didn’t realise it was past one in the morning until Seungkwan texted you to come home.
“Oh shit,” you muttered, quickly standing up and gathering your notebook and the empty cup of coffee in your hands. Wonwoo also stood up, taking his phone out before thrusting it in your direction.
“C-can I maybe have your number y/n? I’d really like to talk to you more,” he asked, his ears turning red at his own question. You nodded, taking his phone to put your number in his contacts. 
“I’ll walk you back to your apartment if you want?” he offered.
“If it’s not too much to ask,” you replied, chucking the empty cup into the bed as soon as you got down from the rooftop.
“Let’s get you home then.”
You tapped your fingers on your thighs, waiting patiently for Wonwoo to come pick you up from your apartment. It had been four months since you and Wonwoo met on the rooftop. You both realised how much you complimented each other. It was nice that he got you to experience some of his hobbies while you taught him the things you were learning in your photography lectures. He was also patient with you whenever you were in one of your moods while you gave him the space he needed whenever he was having a hard time with things he would rather not tell you, yet.
Seungkwan and Mingyu even thought that you and him were good for each other. You were barely drinking now and even if you did, it was always with Wonwoo at the convenience store, talking about everything and anything your minds could think of.
You’ve grown to love Wonwoo’s company.
Woo 🐱: I’m outside your apartment bld ☺️
You: Be down in a sec 💕
You yelled out to Seungkwan that you were going, slipping your shoes on by the door before leaving your apartment with a big smile on your face. You and Wonwoo decided to visit the museum outside your university campus. You were excited to to find some inspiration for your upcoming art project and Wonwoo just wanted to spend time with you.
“Hey,” you walked over to Wonwoo, giving him a side hug.
“Do you think you’d be able to come with me to the recording studio after going to the museum?” he grabbed your elbow before crossing the street to get to the bus stop.
“Yeah, are you and Jihoon recording a new song?” you hummed, taking out your bus card when you saw the bus approaching.
“Yeah, it’s for our music theory class. Jihoon wanted to put some vocals on his new track so he asked me to be his partner.”
You’ve never heard Wonwoo sing but according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, he sounded angelic whenever he sung.
“Can’t wait,” you tapped your bus card, taking a seat at the back by the window. Wonwoo followed you, sitting beside and leaning his head on your shoulder. He yawned, closing his eyes and nuzzling his head against your shoulder.
“Just a little bit,” he yawned again.
“I’ll wake you up when we’re near.”
You walked around the museum in silence with your notebook in hand, doodling some pieces that sparked your interest. Wonwoo, on the other hand, read each and every information that came along with the art pieces. You found it adorable when he would tilt his head as he focused on reading the information. He would look at you whenever you giggled at him, smiling and nudging you with his hip.
Your eyes landed on the final artwork in the museum, a grin making its way to your face. It was a simple artwork of the moon but the different shades of dark colours to mimic the sky made you more and more interested in the artwork. Wonwoo finally caught up to you and stood by your side.
“I..i think this is my favourite out of them all y/n,” he whispered beside you.
“Mine too.” You took out your notebook again, doodling on your notebook while Wonwoo watched you. You didn’t notice that Wonwoo took out his phone and backed away from you slightly. He tapped his phone to get his camera to focus on you, taking a picture of you as you doodled on your notebook.
“Beautiful,” he whispered quietly.
You looked up at Wonwoo, smiling brightly at him.
“I think I’m done ‘Woo,” you finally showed him your drawing, his eyes looking at the artwork.
“You’re so talented y/n!” He ruffled your hair before placing his arm around your shoulder. Wonwoo and you looked at the artwork for the last time.
“To the studio we go?”
“To the studio we go.”
“If you keep staring at Wonwoo like that, he might melt,” Mingyu sneaked up from behind you. You jolted in your seat, clutching your chest as you tried to calm your beating heart.
“Are you serious Kim Mingyu?”
“I didn’t realise you were this jumpy y/n.”
You threw a piece of crumpled paper at his face which he dodged, knocking the spare seat along the way. This caught the attention of a couple of people that were quietly sipping on their beverages in the coffee shop. Wonwoo watched you and Mingyu bicker while he took another coffee order. He chuckled softly when he saw you throw another piece of crumpled paper at Mingyu’s face.
While you and Mingyu were bickering about your apparent feelings for Wonwoo, both of you didn’t notice Wonwoo’s face drop when his ex-girlfriend entered the coffee shop. Mingyu finally looked up to find Wonwoo arguing with Jiyeon at the side of the coffee shop. Seungcheol who now took over Wonwoo’s shift, glanced at the younger male with worry evident on his face.
You didn’t notice what was happening until Mingyu tapped your shoulder.
“C-can you do me a favour y/n?”
You hummed in response, looking up to see Mingyu’s face. You dropped your pencil immediately and gave all your attention to Mingyu.
“I need you to pretend to be Wonwoo’s girlfriend like right now,” he blurted out.
“What the fuck?”
He nibbled on his lower lip before pointing his finger at Wonwoo who looked distressed as he talked to a girl you didn’t recognise.
“Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend who cheated on him.”
With that piece of information, you stood up quickly and made your way towards Wonwoo. You looped your arms through his and placed your head on his arm.
“Baby,” you whined, catching both of their attention.
“You have a girlfriend now Wonwon?” she sounded hurt as she looked you up and down.
Wonwoo cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.
“Yeah, now please leave before my girlfriend makes a scene. And you wouldn’t like that. Trust me.”
You waved at her mockingly, grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and dragging him where you and Mingyu were sat at.
“I want the ground to swallow me whole,” you groaned when you and the boys watched Jiyeon disappear from the coffee shop.
“You owe ME Jeon!”
“How about a free kiss?” Mingyu suggested making you and Wonwoo glare at him.
“How about an explanation? Meet me at the rooftop at 8 tonight?” he glanced at the clock, realising that his break was nearly over.
“I’ll see you later,” he placed a quick peck on your forehead, leaving you and Mingyu by yourselves again.
“Forehead kisses, multiple dates and rooftop sessions? And you two still AREN’T dating?!”
“Oh fuck off Kim Mingyu.”
“So she fucking cheated on you and now she’s asking for you to take her back?”
Wonwoo nodded, eating another cheeseball that you bought for him before coming up to the rooftop.
“And are you going to?” you asked nervously, not knowing why your heart hurt at the thought of Wonwoo taking back Jiyeon. It’s not like there was anything going on between you two, you thought.
You saw him hesitate, swallowing another cheeseball.
“I kinda thought about it but no, I’m never going to take her back. I don’t want to go through the pain all over again.”
You sighed in relief, “Good.”
“Why? You scared I won’t spend as much time with you anymore?”
“To be honest, yeah.”
Wonwoo watched you shyly eat a piece of chicken, avoiding his eyes. He scooted closer to you until your arms were touching. He placed an arm around your waist and placed his head on top of yours.
“Never, sweetheart. You’re very special to me, you know,” he whispered softly.
You were gasping for air once you woke up from your dream. You saw the look of disappointment on his face again, making your heart clench with sadness all over again.
“Not again,” you cried, placing your covers over your mouth to muffle your cries. Your hands were shaking at this point and you knew you were having an episode again. You tried to breathe calmly but memories of your time with him kept appearing in your mind.
“F-fuck,” you reached out to grab your phone from the bedside table. You dialled Wonwoo’s number, placing the phone on your ear. After the fifth ring, Wonwoo picked up humming as you called out his name.
“H-help me,” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to tell him the passcode to your apartment door.
“I’m on my way sweetheart. Please breathe for me okay? I’ll be there in no time.”
Wonwoo arrived ten minutes later, panting when he finally entered your room. He rushed over to your bed and removed your covers so that he could take you in his arms.
“I’m here baby, i’m here,” he took you in his lap, and began to rock you body gently to soothe your cries.
“I’m right here,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, on your forehead and finally, on your cheek.
You gripped his shirt while you attempted to calm yourself down. You focused on his lips and then on his hushed voice.
“Woo,” you finally called out.
“I’m here y/n.”
“I’m s-sorry I called you here.”
“Don’t, you know I’ll always be here.”
After that night, you made it your job to avoid Wonwoo at all cost. You were embarrassed. You also realised how attached you’ve become to him. Seungkwan tried to get you to meet up with him and even Mingyu begged for you to stop avoiding Wonwoo.
“You’re leaving him in the dark y/n,” Seungkwan argued for the nth time. You sighed, leaning your canvas on the wall.
“I’m really busy Kwannie, can we not talk about this today?”
“Just admit that you’ve grown feelings for Wonwoo and you’re afraid that he might leave you!” Seungkwan blurted out. You dropped your paintbrush on the ground when Seungkwan snapped at you.
“I KNOW!” Seungkwan flinched as you yelled back at him.
“I’m scared I might lose him too but you can’t blame me for my own trauma Seungkwan! Now get out,” you picked up your brush again, turning your back away from him.
You knew you were dreaming. It had to be a dream because he was here. He was in your arms while you talked about your on going piece of artwork. Vernon leaned his head on your chest while he played with your fingers that were placed on his chest.
“I love you, you know that right?”
You gripped his fingers tightly in your hands, not wanting to let him go incase he disappeared like he always did whenever you had a dream about him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to save you, Vernon-”
“Shh, what happened to me was not your fault y/n,” he got up from where he was laying on your chest and took you in his lap.
“Nothing was your fault, okay?” he kissed your forehead.
“I shouldn’t have fought with you that day,” you mumbled, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. You gripped his shirt as he continued to whisper calming words into your ear.
“I want you to be happy. I’m at peace now, y/n.” Vernon kissed your cheek before he disappeared again.
You jolted awake, gasping for air again. Clutching your chest, you called out for Seungkwan who heard you since he was sweeping outside your door. He barged in with the sweeping brush in his hand.
“Vernon again?” You nodded, sniffling while you opened your arms for him.
“I know he’s watching over you y/n.”
You sobbed in his shirt, seeping the piece of clothing with your tears. Seungkwan’s heart broke when he continued to rub your back. He shook his head at how unfair the world could be. You didn’t deserve the heart ache of losing Vernon to a crash. You didn’t deserve to lose the man that was once the love of your life.
“What happened to Vernon wasn’t your fault, y/n.”
“I-i know,” you breathed out, “V-vernon told me it wasn’t. Seungkwan, he finally talked to me in my dreams.”
Seungkwan gave you a soft smile, soothing you with comforting words again.
“I know he’d love for you to be happy with Wonwoo.”
A month passed by when you saw Wonwoo again. It was only for a couple of minutes until him and Jihoon entered the studio. Despite only seeing him for a few minutes, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he looked at you.
You clutched the canvas tighter against your chest as you made your way to the arts building to go into the studio to finally finish your painting that was going to be included in the exhibition a few days. When you entered the studio, you flicked the lights on and settled your canvas against the wall. You rolled your sleeves up and began to prepare your paints and paintbrushes that were going to finalise your artwork.
It took you 5 hours to complete your painting, your cheek and denim overalls sporting splotches of paint on them. You stood back and admired your work of art. You fished out your phone and captured a picture of your painting to send to Seungkwan.
While you were cleaning your brushes, your mind wandered back to a memory that inspired your artwork.
You and Wonwoo were walking home after spending hours on the rooftop. He urged you to go to the rooftop after he had a rough day. When you arrived at the rooftop, Wonwoo was already sitting on the ground with a can of beer clutched in his hand. He heard you but he didn’t bother turning around with how tired he was. You leaned down behind Wonwoo and wrapped your arms around him, placing your chin on his shoulder. You remembered Wonwoo spilling everything that went wrong that day while you hugged him tighter to calm him down.
After spending hours on the rooftop, he decided to walk you home. He was back to his normal self, nudging you with his hip as he teased you about hugging him on the rooftop for hours. You giggled when he tipsily laughed at a joke you told him. You reached for your phone that was in the back pocket of your jeans.
You quickly took a picture of Wonwoo while he laughed at another joke you told him.
“Hey! No fair,” he whined, chasing you down the empty streets of Seoul.
“Hey y/n, are you inviting Wonwoo to the exhibition?” Seungkwan chewed on a piece of gum while typing something on his phone.
“I already did.”
“What did he say?”
“Left me on read.”
“I’m sure he’ll come y/n,” Seungkwan reassured, squeezing your hand.
It was the day of the exhibition and you were walking around the hall to look at your other classmates’ paintings. You chatted to some of them and complimented them on their work while they gushed about yours. They loved the idea of your painting of the moon and a boy who was admiring the night sky. You thanked her, smiling at her art work again.
The event was coming to an end but you saw no sight of Wonwoo. Mingyu, Jihoon and even Soonyoung dropped by to see your work of art. The three of them admired your painting for awhile until it finally clicked in their minds who the boy was. They whipped their heads towards you at the same time, wearing matching smirks to tease you.
“Wonwoo huh?” Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows making you chuckle at him.
“Do you know if he’s coming?” you bit your lower lip, fiddling with your hands as you awaited for their answer.
The three boys looked at you with sympathetic smiles, “We’re not sure y/n.” They bid you goodbye after you chatted with them for a while, leaving you on your own again. Some people came up to you to ask you about your painting, asking what prompted you to paint the moon and a boy.
“Just someone special,” you smiled at the old lady.
The event came to an end at 8pm and your professor thanked all of you for presenting your paintings to the public. You were beyond tired when you grabbed your back from the staff room, wanting nothing more than to pick up some food from your favourite takeaway shop and watch reruns of your favourite show with Seungkwan.
You were the last person to leave the hall as your other classmates have already left while you were grabbing your belongings. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t disappointed that Wonwoo didn’t come to the event. However, you knew it was your fault for pushing him away when all he wanted was to be there for you.
You started walking away from the hall, halting once you heard a familiar voice calling out your name. You froze when you heard footsteps nearing you. He was here, you thought.
You turned around to see Wonwoo with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He smiled softly at you once he was in front of you. Wonwoo handed you the flowers and you gladly took them from his hand.
“I didn’t want to disturb you when you were talking to people so I decided not to come up to you and just admire your work from afar.”
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it y/n,” he stared at you, silence enveloping you both.
“Good, you were the inspiration for that painting,” you sheepishly revealed. He blushed at your words, tucking his hands behind the pockets of his jeans.
“How about I walk you back to your apartment?”
“I’d love that.”
You walked side by side in comfortable silence with only the noises of passing cars filling in the silence that enveloped you both. It was nice seeing Wonwoo again and you loved the new hair colour he was sporting now.
When you neared your apartment building, Wonwoo spotted the playground that he frequently passed by whenever he collected you from your apartment. He nudged your hip with his own, pointing at the swings nearby.
“Wanna chat for a bit?” You could only nod, following him as he led the way to the swings. You sat down on of the swings while he sat on the other, immediately pushing himself off. You watched in amusement as he got higher and higher, wanting to do the same. But you were too tired to even move your legs so you decided just to watch him goof off.
“Woo,” you called out.
He suddenly stopped, using his feet to stop himself from swinging any further. He turned towards you, raising his eyebrows to urge you to speak.
“I-i’m really sorry for avoiding you,” you started, fiddling with the flowers that laid on your lap.
“Wanna tell me why you did?”
You looked up at him, his eyes staring intently at you. You gulped, feeling nervous the more he looked at you with curious eyes.
“I didn’t want you to get to close..because I was afraid I’d lose you like I lost my ex-boyfriend,” you confessed, running your hand through your hair. You saw him furrow his eyebrows, probably confused as to why you were afraid of losing him when you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.
“H-he died after a drunk driver knocked him over,” you whispered, “He was going home after we argued at my apartment and that was the last conversation we had before he died the same night.”
Wonwoo gasped softly, standing up and kneeling in front of you. He tilted your head up with his pointer finger to get you to look at him. You didn’t resist, wanting nothing more but to look at Wonwoo. Tears started to form in your eyes once they met his.
“I’m really sorry Woo,” you sobbed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, both of you nuzzling your heads into each other’s necks. You and him stayed in that position until he his knee started aching.
“You gotta let go of me for a bit, baby, my knees are starting to ache.” With the mention of the term of endearment, your heartbeat quickened.
“Baby huh?” You asked, your eyebrow raised at him.
“Yeah, because you’re my baby now,” he teased, offering you his hand to take. You gladly accepted it, swinging it softly as you and him continued to walk to your apartment building.
“I’ve something for you to listen to before you go to sleep, baby,” he smiled. You turned your head towards him, seeing the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. “What is it?” you asked. “I already sent it to you, you just have to play it when you get home okay?” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his torso. You rested your chin against his chest while you both stood outside your apartment building. You didn’t want to let him go nor did he want to leave you just yet.
“Wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” he asked, leaning down to peck your forehead with his lips. You nodded again, placing the side of your head against his chest. “I’d love to.”
“No more running away okay?” You pinched his back lightly before nodding again to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere again. Despite the fear of losing him in the future lingering in the back of your mind, you were only certain of one thing. You were completely and utterly in love with the man who pushed a steel door against your body that one strange night. He was someone that your heart was longing for and he was the one who helped you heal your heart piece by piece like you did with his.
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stylesmessiah · 15 days ago
cherry inn
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summary: When he leans across your desk, you catch a whiff of sandalwood and cigarettes. It’s rather seductive, of course, and then he hits you with: “I don’t need a place to stay tonight. Unless it’s your room.”
And you should say no, considering he’s trouble and whatnot, but perhaps you’ve been attracted to trouble all along.
word count: 2.7k
okayyy i really just wanted to write smut with biker gang harry in a leather jacket. warnings: smut--oral (m receiving), thigh riding, idk dirty talk. i wrote this a while ago and finally found it. enjoy!
You didn’t think he’d come back, but he arrives tonight, unaccompanied; no sexy girl clinging to his arm, no stern-faced man in sunglasses asking to meet him outside for a ‘business transaction.’ You know what the latter means, of course, and perhaps as an innkeeper you should be more concerned about drug-dealing right outside your property, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when the closest police station in your unexcitable desert town is fifty miles away.
Besides, he’s the most interesting of the little biker group. Enigmatic, with bright green eyes and the need to flirt every time you two meet. He speaks politely too, sweet-sounding drawls and always calling you ‘miss’; if he discarded the leather jacket for a blazer, he’d pass as a real estate agent or smoldering lawyer. You’re often tempted to ask what’s driven him to his motorcycling lifestyle of illicit activities, but there’s never been a right time. Perhaps tonight is.
The name he’s given you is Harry Styles. You stare at him unblinkingly as he plays with the cigarette in between his fingers. His hair is longer since the last time you’ve seen him, falling to his shoulders, and you find it funny how much a member of a gang resembles a prince.
“Not inside, sir,” you say, a sardonic smile on your face.
“Oh right, miss, I forgot,” he says apologetically, crumbling it on the countertop. “Nasty habit, ’m trying to quit, y’know.” 
He says this every time. You sweep the ash to the ground, rummage for a room key. “207 is free,” you say, waiting for his palm to extend. It does not.
When he leans across your desk, you catch a whiff of sandalwood and cigarettes. It’s rather seductive, of course, and then he hits you with: “I don’t need a place to stay tonight. Unless it’s your room.”
And you should say no, considering he’s trouble and whatnot, but perhaps you’ve been attracted to trouble all along.
As you pretend to be considering his proposition, he says tauntingly, “Come on, miss, our banter’s always been foreplay, hasn’t it?”
“Is that how you view it?”
“Forgive me if I misconstrued things.”
“I accept your apology,” you say dryly, “but I am wondering why you’ve waited so long. Brought a lot of conquests from the bar with you. It’s rather hard to make small talk with some lady who came to the lobby for a condom.”
“Right.” He shuffles, a little guiltily. “See, my dear, I always thought I’d take you out for a drink first. Classy way of doing things, innit?”
“And why are you not offering to buy me a drink?”
“Thought I’d finish with affairs...first. Seems like I’m entrapped for a little while longer.” He lets out a hollow sort of laugh. “I was a bit worried one drink would turn into two, then three, and then I’d fall in love with you. And if that turned out to be the case—well, you’d be entrapped too.”
You’re a bit taken aback, and you can tell he’s smug about finally breaking your impassive stance. So you hit him with: “What if I’m fine with that?”
“Well, I’m not,” he says gruffly. “You stay here. You’re safe in here.”
“Right, pretending to be oblivious does give me a bit of leverage,” you say. “I’d rather like a drink, though.”
“A bit too complicated now. I’ve got a bounty on my head, you see, coppers down south finally realized where to point the blame.”
“Aw, you poor thing. I guess we should fuck, for your sanity. You just tell me, though—what’s your real name?”
He blinks. “I’ve given it to you already.”
“Really? Sounds like a stage name. Or a stripper’s name.” You regard his pretty brown curls. “A bit ironic.”
Ironically-named-Harry-Styles laughs. “I wish I was a stripper.”
“You’d make a lot of money,” you say wisely. “Do it.”
“‘S a bit late for a career change, miss.” He extends his arm; you take it.
“Shouldn’t you have given me an alias? The police are looking for you now, as you know.”
“I trust you,” he says simply. You believe him.
A few yards away is a dilapidated little cottage that’s never been more inviting as his hungry mouth envelops yours. You reach for the key in your pocket as he reaches to unbutton your blouse.
“Grope me inside,” you say, casting a nervous glance around the deserted street. The only light comes from the neon-red sign that reads ‘Cherry Inn.’
Chirping crickets mix with his gentle laugh. “This,” he squeezes your breast, “is a risk ’m willing to take.”
Charming. You kiss him again as soon as the door opens, backing him against the wall and swinging your arms around his neck. A darkened room and two very horny people do not mix, for somebody’s hand leads to files tumbling from a desk.
He turns on a lamp as you begin to pick them up hastily, then immediately bends down to help you. “No!” you say, flustered. “I’ve got it.”
“Alrigh’.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, watches you shove the papers inside a drawer with amusement. “Diary excerpts?”
“Something like that,” you say hurriedly, grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket and leading him to the bed. The sheets are cleaner than the ones back at the inn, but still a bit moth-eaten. He doesn’t seem to care at all though, just tears open your shirt as his smirk grows wider.
“D’you write about me?” he asks as he flips you around with ease, peppering kisses to the back of your spine.
“D’you want me to write about you?” you gasp slightly as his mouth draws closer to the flimsy clasp of your bra. His teeth bears your chest to him and he smiles as if he’s just been presented with a million dollars.
“Of course I do,” he says, reaching over to squeeze one of your nipples—you let out a tiny groan. “Been thinkin’ about this since the first day I checked in. You’re an icy bitch—”
“—But it’s hot,” you finish for him as you straddle his lap. He hums in approval. “Why the hell are you still wearing clothes?”
“Well, miss,” he smirks, “I really like this jacket.”
“Yeah, okay,” you roll your eyes and tug on it, “let me see what’s underneath, Styles.”
“Don’t expect to be too impressed. Doesn’t rival your beauty in the slightest, miss.” He’s only being modest, of course: he’s walking art, verdant gaze darkened as he reveals himself to you. First pulling off the jacket, then his white tank top embroidered with the word Kindness on the side. You let out a snigger, even though you’re quite sure he is rather kind, and not just for a criminal. Generous, too, because he lets you take long, hungry looks at him, at the swirls of ink running across of his toned arms and chest, his expanses of sun-kissed skin, others porcelain. He had taken off his shirt in the lobby once, when it was summer and there was no reprieve from the heat; you’d cynically told him to put it back on, when in reality you were filled with jealousy upon seeing the scratch-marks on his back. Probably came from one of his eager nighttime helpers, and it enraged you. Now you can be the one to mark him up; at this thought, you reach for the bottom of your skirt, but he instantly grabs your wrist.
“’S a bit dirty for the innkeeper to touch herself in front of one of the guests,” he chides.
“Guess you’ll have to teach me a lesson,” you sigh wistfully, and he grins.
“Trust me, baby,” he says. “I will. You be good and—” He unbuttons his ripped jeans, tossing them to the side, revealing the large tent in his navy blue boxers. You feel saliva gather in your mouth as he taps his thigh, where a strategically placed tattoo lies.
“A tiger,” you murmur, wanting nothing more to squeeze your thighs together, but your voice rises as you say, “Bit pretentious.”
Harry laughs, low and rich. “Your cheek is a silver lining, but ‘s a bit disrespectful. Can’t stomach disrespect, y’know.” He shoves your skirt, also tosses that to the side. His nimble fingers begin to lazily roam across the thin, damp fabric and you almost whine. Almost.
“C’mon, Styles,” you breathe, as his fingers trace figure-8′s across your panties.
“I always call you miss, I’m ever-so polite,” he says, reaching for the hem and pulling your underwear down slowly. “Least you can do is call me sir.”
“Call a wanted gang member sir? I have a bit more self-respect than that, y’know.”
“Hmm.” His fingers pause their movements and this time, you do whine. “Let’s see if we can put that smart mouth to better use.”
Well, fuck. You look up at him challengingly as you drop to your knees, wincing as they scrape on the hardwood floor. Your gaze drops to his cock and—well, fuck, again. Half-hard and it’s still the biggest you’ve ever seen, lovely and rose-hued. “Go on, then,” Harry says, “don’t make me rip out your pretty hair.”
You smirk at him. “Bit of a dirty slut, aren’t you,” he remarks, gripping the roots as promised and you let out a keening cry, “ahh, there you go, c’mon, miss...”
Your tongue swirls across his length, and a steady flush rises on his cheeks as he praises you. “Taking me so good, darling, god, shoulda done this before...”
You enjoy the salty taste on your tongue, and most of all you love the noises, the obscene sounds coming from his end and yours. He’s letting out garbled cuss words, alternating between soft praise and sharp degradation, the pain on your scalp so sweet.
After he comes inside your mouth, he watches you swallow with heavily-fluttering eyelids. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel more heat gather south.
“Can I get my reward now?” you ask, batting your eyes.
“Ask kindly, miss.”
You exhale. “Please, sir—can I...” You swallow. “Can I ride your pretentious tattoo?”
“Well.” He laughs. “Good enough.”
Harry grabs your waist and places you on his lap once more; you’re already trembling with the thought of your impending climax. Praying he won’t deny you for any longer, you lead a trail of kisses along sharp jawline as he helps you grind against his leg.
“Fuck,” you cry.
“Afterwards,” he promises. “God, you’re so turned on, aren’t you, can feel how wet you are on my thigh.”
“It’s so—” Your eyes roll in the back of your head as you increase the friction, his thigh bounces faster. “It’s so...Fuck.” 
“’S so what, baby?” He reaches to squeeze your nipple and god, you can’t contain yourself any longer. You bite your lip as you stare at his stirring cock.
“It’s so good—” His thigh immediately ceases in its movements and you let out a frustrated wail as he pins you on the bed once more. “What the fuck?” you say, scandalized.
“Oh, c’mon miss, can’t we finish together?” His hand strokes his hard member, and he laughs as you pout.
“Fuckin’ swallowed your come already.”
“Don’t make me gag that filthy mouth with my cock again,” he warns, “although, I suppose you like that, don’t you.” He smacks your ass suddenly, and you yelp. “That, too.”
“Yes, fuck,” you hiss, “I like it.”
“Mm. Good to know.” He spreads your legs wider with his hands, dropping his head to blow air into your pussy and your toes curl, before placing a well-aimed smack, right on your clit, and you let out a broken wail. “You like that, too, baby?”
“Yes, God, Harry, I like it, please fuck me, God, please, I need it—”
“Okay, okay.” His girth teases against your drenched entrance. “I know what you need, baby, and I’ll give it to you, don’t you worry.”
Fucking finally. His thrusts are well-angled, slick, fast; everything you’ve ever needed and more. Your nails dig into his back, and his sweet-smelling curls tickle your nose, and he rubs your clit as his cock finds your G-spot—you practically scream—and God, you’re done for, he was so right, you two should’ve done this before, danger be damned...
Then all the strength in your legs leave you as you have the strongest orgasm of your life. He follows suit a split second after, and he collapses against your chest, burrowing his face in your sweaty chest, letting out more obscenities. 
His head lifts up and he’s not looking at you, but you’re staring at him, entranced. What a perfect face, perfect soul, although those you know call it tarnished. They desperately want a piece of him and tonight you had all of him.
“Hey, look at me,” you say gently. He doesn’t comply. “Oi, I was literally riding your thigh, you can look me in the eye—” But then you see what he’s staring at. Your stomach sinks; how could you have been so stupid to leave it out?
He looks at you. “Missus.”
You glance at the silver ring. “He won’t be back ‘til much later.”
He nods wordlessly, rolling to the other side of the bed and reaching for his pack of cigarettes. He lights one and hands it to you.
“Thanks,” you say. You let out a gush of smoke, then announce, “I don’t love him.”
Heat rises to your cheeks. Does it matter, if you love him or not? But you’re rambling now. “It was a marriage of convenience, my parents were going to lose the inn, and he was able to fund it...”
“Don’t stress, love.” He flicks a damp curl away from his eye impatiently. “I mean, ‘m on the fucking run, aren’t I? I’ve fucked up real bad. Infidelity is nothing compared to my sins.”
You stare at him. “You’re running from them too, aren’t you?”
He nods, his face suddenly much younger, sadder. “Told them I wanted out, that I was dragged into it so young, they had to consider and well...Didn’t go so well.” He reveals a gash on his ribcage you didn’t catch earlier; you gasp.
“Oh, Harry...”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly, “police want me as well now. Would turn myself in, but there are the same motherfuckers inside too, I won’t last a day in prison. Guess ‘m a dead man either away.”
Your heart clenches. “Don’t say that,” you stammer, “don’t...Listen. Take the bus that goes at 4 am. The bus driver, Collin, he won’t turn you in. He owes me a favor. Tell him my name, and he’ll drop you to the city. There, you can bled in.”
“That’s better than my plan.”
“Which was?”
“Just letting this—” he gestures to the two of you. “Finally happen. The rest be damned.”
You turn away so he doesn’t see you cry. “You know,” you say after a while, “if you had been able to take me out for a drink, then two, then three, I also would’ve—”
“I know, my love. I know.”
Your husband arrives to you lying on the bed. Pale sunlight floods through the window. There are no clothes discarded on the floor, and the ring is on your finger once more.
He sighs and unbuckles his belt. “Station’s a mess,” he announces, opening the drawer, “not a single member rounded up.”
“Soon,” you say thickly.
“Soon,” he repeats hopefully. He pulls out a file of the man he’s most keen on finding, a man nicknamed ‘the pretty one.’ A man whose come was inside you mere hours ago. “God, we don’t even have this bastard’s name, can you believe it? It’s so weird the inn doesn’t have records of his stays anymore, fucker must’ve taken it during the night.”
“Guess I shouldn’t even bother asking if he’s stopped by for a room again? I’ve always suspected him, you know.”
“Really, love, never heard that before.”
He’s unable to detect your sarcasm. Instead he lies beside you, wraps his arm around your waist. You cringe. “You know,” he whispers into your ear, “you’re so sexy, he’ll probably stop by again sometime soon, hoping he can seduce you like the depraved man he is—then bam! I’ll catch him. Finally get that promotion...”
As his rambles morph into snores, you find yourself smiling at the neon red sign from across the street. One day, you’re sure, he will stop by Cherry Inn again. Except you’ll be the only person to catch him.
This is unedited pls ignore all the embarrassing mistakes im sure are there. reblogs and comments are always appreciated!
maybe i’ll write a sequel to this, lmk if interested
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tinyboxxtink · 18 days ago
“Sharky” *Part 8*
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Ya’ll ok I know we all like to use the phrase “OMG I’m crying” or “OMG literal tears”! 
But when I tell you I ugly cried writing this, I mean I am literally sitting here right now shaking from crying so hard. And I don’t even know why!!!!!! I guess I really, REALLY got myself into it. I just...I felt it as I was writing it. Jesus Christ. And then I kept writing and it just kept happening and I was like “oh my god STOP,”.
Also probably didn’t help I had Sara Bareilles’s “Gravity” on repeat.
I hate myself right now. Why am I so invested in make believe people!?! 
So I’m sorry it’s so short but I’m literally having a breakdown right now and had to stop writing. 
Also, I’m sorry I’m so awful to Olivia Benson. She just...gets in the way. LoL.
Chapter List
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 9
Tag List
You met your colleagues outside MaClaren’s bar, dressed in a leather floor length dress with long sleeves and a dark purple cape. Your makeup was done very dark, with purples and blacks. 
“Who are you supposed to be?”
“I’m the Evil Queen, duh,” You pointed to a tiara on your head. 
“Wow you really went all out there Y/N, it’s not that serious,” Parker snickered. You quickly noticed they were wearing the bare minimum to be qualified as “Costumes”. Parker was wearing a tuxedo t-shirt, Greg was wearing a FLASH t-shirt, and Kyra was just wearing a slutty outfit with bunny ears.
“Whatever, are we going in or not?” You snapped, leading your pack inside. They followed closely behind, glancing around at the party guests. The bar was full of costumed people talking and drinking, some were seated at the bar, others at booths and tables. Of course the NYPD rented out the whole bar for the night, taxpayers hard earned money at work. 
“Shots shots shots shots!” Greg chanted as he handed out tequila shots to the four of you. 
“How the hell did you get those so fast?” You looked around confused.
“I’m the Flash, obviously,” He smirked. “Now shut up and drink, you’re gonna need it,”  You all took the shots at once, but only Kyra started choking on hers. 
“Nice one Parker, bringing the kid in here,” You laughed wickedly. Kyra shot you a glare while Parker grabbed her a towel; you turned back to see Greg holding another tray of shots. 
“Let’s go Y/L/N,” He encouraged you to take another shooter. “Take Kyra’s too, we wouldn’t want the intern to die before Monday,” He added with a laugh.
“Rude!” She pouted and went to the bar to order a fruity drink.
“....Is there a reason you’re trying to get me drunk, Simmons?” You asked Greg warily, but took both shots anyway. 
“I just thought you’d need some liquid courage to face them,” He grinned like an evil Cheshire cat, pointing behind you. There, only a few feet from you, was Olivia Benson dressed as Superwoman and her squad talking and laughing like idiots. And standing there hanging on her arm was Rafael, dressed as Superman.
“What...the...FUCK,” Those tequila shots may have burned on the way down, but you were on fire everywhere now. You didn’t even notice Greg and Parker exchange triumphant smiles as you stomped up to the group.
“What the hell is this?!” You spooked the group by yelling furiously.
“Oh, oh my-- sweetie, Oh I’m sorry,” Kyra ran up beside you. “You TOTALLY weren’t supposed to find out like this,” She over exaggerated her concern. The squad exchanged curious and worried looks, Barba looked like he wanted to tunnel into the ground.
“Find out what?” You eyed all of them. 
“That Barba and fire crotch here finally gave into their urges and started boinking like bunnies,”  Parker came up behind the group with an evil smile.
“W-What…?” You felt your heart dropping, and your stomach felt like someone just gut punched you. 
“Jesus Anders, you’re disgusting. They’re a couple, not animals,” Amanda scoffed while Olivia and Barba stared at her in horror. “What?” 
You stood there, speechless. Everything around you felt a million miles away, you could hear your heart beating inside your head. That bitch, that absolutely horrible woman, she had stolen everything from you. And there she stood, just mocking you with her new prize. You stared at the group around you; your three colleagues snickered evilly. They had planned this the entire time, they wanted to take you down a peg.
What could you do? You were in a room full of cops, so beating the absolute shit out of her was clearly a no-go. But you had to do something, the rage inside you was growing rampant like a forest fire. You had to do something, do SOMETHING.
Something that can only be described as a low, guttural growl came rolling out of your mouth as you slowly inched towards Olivia in that circle. Your eyes were locked into hers with a death glare so hard it almost gave you a headache. You were already 5’10, but the stiletto boots you had on made you at least 6 feet tall. You towered over the detective, and the mood you were in you could snap her like a twig right there.
“Y/N….”  Barba said softly, only pissing you off more. How dare he try and protect HER.
Everyone around you stared at the two of you with bated breaths. Her squad was ready to pounce on you if you tried to hit her, and your three morons were eagerly catching this all on film.  When you were inches from her face, you took the deepest breath you could and spit right in between her eyes. 
“Oh my God!!!!” She cried in shock and horror, throwing her hands on her face while your colleagues began cackling loudly. Barba immediately tried to find a napkin to wipe her face off while the rest of her squad looked at each other debating whether or not they could bust you for spitting in a cop’s face.
“Bitch,” You snarled with a whip of your cape and stormed off before any of her squad could do anything to you. 
“Oh my GOD did you see that?!!! Did you see it?!!! Y/N totally SPIT IN HER FACE!!!!!” Parker laughed loudly behind his phone, still filming the scene. 
“What the fuck is wrong with her?!” Olivia screeched.
“What the fuck is wrong with YOU, idiots?!” Barba was more focused on the three amigos yucking it up at your expense. 
“Rafa! Hello? Girlfriend covered in bitch spit?” Olivia gestured, but Barba was still locked in on them. 
“Did you seriously just bring Y/N to this party to--to what, rub Liv and I in her face? Why would you do that? Aren’t you her friends?!” He yelled at them.
“Look, Barba,” Greg stepped forward. “I know in Candyland, you are all hugs and love like a ‘family’,” He rolled his eyes. “But in our Shark Tank, it’s kill or be killed,”
“And Buchanan’s looking for a new partner, and Y/N is one of the best at our firm. But after that fucking debacle with you, and now having a meltdown and actually spitting in a police officer’s eye…” Parker shook his head with a laugh as he examined the footage he had taken.
“Now she’s chum,” Kyra added with a giggle. 
“You’re fucking evil, the lot of you,” Rafael sneered, starting to push past them.
“Ah ah ah, Barba I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Greg warned. “You really want your fiery ginger there to know you went after the girl who just spit in her face?
Barba looked back at the group, Amanda was taking Olivia to the bathroom to help fix her makeup that was smeared from your spit. He looked at the door, then the three sharks, back at the group, and then pushed his way out of the crowd to follow after you. 
Outside of the bar, you were stomping around in your stiletto boots. How could he do that? Sure, he could be mad. Sure, maybe he could hate you. HER. After EVERYTHING. It made you so angry you couldn’t see straight .You wished you were really the Evil Queen, you’d chuck a fireball right at that twat and end her SO fast. Without thinking, you let out a very loud, very long scream of frustration and anger. People stop and stared at you for a moment,  but then resumed their business. This was New York, they had seen weirder. However, one person flinched and stepped towards you. 
You whipped around to see Rafael standing there with a pathetic look on his face. “Oh FUCK no, leave me alone dickhead,” You stormed off as he struggled to keep up with you. 
“Don’t you need to go wash off your girlfriend’s face, counselor?” You sneered as he followed you.
“Amanda’s taking care of it,” He mumbled.
“Oh well, thank GOD,” You stopped and turned towards him.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry those dicks did that to you...” He said softly.
“Excuse me?” You asked with a laugh. 
“They...they brought you here--” He motioned towards the bar.
“I know what they did, Barba. I’m not an idiot,” You scoffed. “But at least I expect it from them. They don’t pretend to be anything than a bunch of self servicing assholes,” You chuckled bitterly. 
“But you--” You walked up closer to him. “You and your ‘girlfriend’,” You spat the word. “You sit up there in your moral ivory tower, pretending to be so holier than thou,” 
“That’s not fair--” He started.
“It’s NOT? Really?! Look at where we’re standing, Barba! That woman is HORRIBLE. She RESEARCHED me, like a lab experiment. Just to poison you! And THEN, she went and told my boss that I was trying to ‘turn’ you, like the little conniving bitch she is,” You were walking a thin line between rage and heartbreak right now, you could feel the tears coming as you spoke. 
“She took EVERYTHING from me,” You were desperately biting the tears back now. “And you just ran right into her arms!” 
“Y/N…” Rafael had tears in his own eyes as he tried to take your hand,  but you backed away. 
“And me,” You laughed bitterly. “I do the right thing for ONCE in my life, and you just-- you took it and ran,” You finally let tears drop down your face, your makeup be damned. 
“I do something good and I’m punished, she does vile things and she’s rewarded. How the fuck is that fair?!” You screamed angrily. 
“I tried reaching out to you! You told me to leave you alone!” He threw his hands up in frustration.
“And you didn’t even TRY and fight me on that?” 
“I didn’t want to fight you on it, I thought I had hurt you--” He tried for you hands again, but you pushed him away.
“And your solution was to DESTROY me?” You got up in his face. 
“Destroy you? What--” He looked at you in utter confusion. 
“LOOK AT ME, RAFAEL,” You screamed, gesturing to the sad sobbing mess you were. “I didn’t have emotions, I didn’t have sadness, I had never cried outside my shower before you. I’m destroyed, I’m ruined. I’m broken! BECAUSE OF YOU,” 
“So yeah, maybe Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Douche caused me pain by bringing me here,” You laughed harshly, wiping snot and tears from your ruined face. “But you hurt me in the first place by being with her, and you KNEW that,” You threw up your hands. “So just, do me a favor and please, PLEASE just leave me the fuck alone,” 
“No,” Rafael shook his head and grabbed your hands this time before you could stop him. “You want me to fight for you, I’m fighting,” 
“It’s too late, Rafael,” You shook your head sadly. You weren’t even angry anymore, you were just...broken. “There’s nothing left to fight for,” 
You turned and walked away sadly, leaving Rafael once again alone and speechless.
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13-reasons-ideas · 18 days ago
Can’t Go Back Part 19
A/N: Sorry this one is a few days late. I was having issues with it. I couldnt get it to flow and it had to be reworked a few times. No smut in this one. It also wasn't working for me. There will be smut in the next Present chapter. The next chapter will be posted on Friday as usual. As always, feedback is appreciated and much love. -Em
Monty and I were still dancing around each other a little, but things were getting easier. Our life had fallen back into a comfortable routine. The date night we indulged in last week seemed like it hit the reset button on our relationship again. Our alarm went off on Tuesday morning and we both groaned in protest. It was so warm in bed. “Remind me again why we can’t just cut school and lay here all day?”
“Because we need to go learn things. Helps with the whole graduation thing we are supposed to do this year.” I could feel Monty peppering my neck with soft kisses. “It’s not going to work, Casanova.”
“Shhh. Let me try.” He shushed me.
“No. We don’t have time.” I sighed. I really don’t want to get up. How was I a morning person before?
“I think we do.” Oh yeah.  I didn’t have someone waking me up with cuddles and kisses. Nd begging to stay in bed.
“We do not.” I sighed again. Monty sighed. He let go of me and I rolled out of bed. I could feel his eyes on my ass, and I shook my hips a little. He ignored me.
After a hot shower, separately lest we run late for another joyous day at Liberty High, we enjoyed coffee and breakfast together. I smiled to myself while I ate. I was just thankful that we were getting back to normal again. I hated fighting with him. We both knew that it would happen. Especially since we are both stubborn and have an inexplicable need to be right. We were prepared for the little tiffs that would come along. We were prepared for the big fights that were sure to come. Forever is a long time, after all. There were just some things you couldn’t prepare for. Our current struggle was one of those things. But we were getting through it.
Monty startled me when he placed a full cup of coffee beside me. “Thank you.”
“I promised I would never leave your morning coffee empty, remember?”
“I remember.” I smiled fondly and took a sip. He placed his bowl-we had moved up from sticking his hand directly in the box, thank God-in the dishwasher. Scott texted me while I was packing up my backpack.
Can we talk before lunch?
Yeah, sure. About what?
Is everything okay? I looked up from my phone at my husband. He was shoving his physics textbook into his bag. It didn’t seem like anything was wrong.
Nothing’s wrong exactly.
What do you mean? He didn’t reply. There was still no answer when Monty and I got to school. Scott wouldn’t look at me when we stopped to chat with our friends. What the hell?
Scott met me outside of my class. “Hey.”
“Hey.” We walked to an empty alcove outside, chatting about nothing in particular. He sat down on the bench and motioned for me to join him.
“I want to keep this short because I’m hungry. We need to talk about Monty.”
“What about him?”
“Now, I know I said I would stay out of your marriage unless I was invited.”
“Yes. You did?”
“And I’m glad everything is working out between you two now.”
“Yeah.” I was beginning to get nervous.
“I also swore to myself I would take zero interest in your private life.”
“That sounds like bullshit. But okay.” He didn’t say anything. He looked at me seriously. Oh. “You mean, our private life.”
“So, why do we need to talk Scott?”
“You need to have sex with your husband.” He stated.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll get right on that. Shall we text you updates before, during, and after?”
“Addison. I’m serious.”
“If you are going to lecture me on ‘needs’ Scott….”
“No, nothing like that. He’s just really fucking annoying.”
“Yes. Don’t worry, we don’t talk details. All I need to know about that is that its consensual. But he’s getting kind of cranky.”
“Not with me.” I shrugged.
“Yeah. Because he loves you and he just got out of your bad books.”
“You think that would stop him from being cranky with me? Are we talking about the same Montgomery de la Cruz here? Have you met your best friend?”
“Yes. I think, given the situation, that it would. He likes you. He doesn’t exactly like many other people. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed.”
“Maybe once or twice.” I shrugged.
“Will you just think about it?”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
“Great. And no. I don’t need updates. Or want them.” We stood up and started walking to the cafeteria.
“Hey Scott?”
“Yeah Addy?”
“Thank you. For being so supportive during this whole mess. I don’t think many other people would be.”
“You’re my friends. It’s what I’m here for. And you feed me at least once a week. I wasn’t about to start missing out on that.” He grinned at me. I laughed and pushed him gently.
“Let me check with my wife.” Monty was saying as Scott and I sat down at lunch.
“Check with me about what?”
“I was just asking Monty if he was down to come to my place for a party later this week.” Bryce said.
Monty gave me a look. “And so, I said I would check with you.” Ah yes. The old checking with the wife line.
“When this week?”
“Friday. Are you his daytimer?”
“Friday?” I thought for a second. “You have a doctor’s appointment at four and physio at seven. It seems I am.”
“Sorry man.” Monty shrugged.
“It’s one appointment. I’m sure you’d be fine to miss them. Or you could swing by after.” I rolled my eyes.
“Do you want your friend’s knee to be permanently fucked? No? Then he can’t go.” Bryce didn’t answer. Thinking the matter had been decided and was no longer up for discussion, I settled in to eat my lunch.
“You could just come anyway. How would she know?” I heard him whisper to Monty.
“Considering we live together I think I would notice if he wasn’t home.” I whisper said back. “We share a bed.” I left the implication of what happened the last time he wasn’t home in our bed, but rather out with Bryce, be.
“Fine.” Bryce pouted.
I caught up with Monty after lunch and he walked me to class. His arm was thrown over my shoulder, possessively, more often than not now that we were getting back on the road to happy, healthy marriage land. “Check with your wife, huh?”
“Yeah. Don’t want to hurt his feelings.”
“You know I’m okay with you going, right?”
“I know. But I would rather spend my Friday night with you. I don’t actually have a doctor’s appointment I forgot about, do I?”
“No. You’re free for the night.”
“How has your knee been doing, by the way?”
“It’s been okay. Not like I’m doing anything to stress the ligament too much.” I smirked softly. “I mean, I can’t play ball. I’m not even supposed to be working out that much.” Right. That’s what you meant.
“That’s true. What are we doing instead of Bryce’s?”
“I was thinking pizza? Maybe make it ourselves?”
“Hey guys. Wait up!” Scott called after us. We stopped and turned around. Scoot was tailed by Anders.
“Doctor’s appointments?” Scott smirked.  
“Sure.” Monty nodded.
“You really don’t want to go on Friday, do you?”
“No. I have much better plans.” He squeezed me softly.
“He really does.” I nodded.
“What are your plans?” Anders asked.
“No pants pizza night.”
“No pants pizza.” I repeated.
“What’s that?”
“We make or order pizza. And then we sit on the couch. And eat it. Without pants on.” I explained slowly.
“No pants pizza.” Monty shrugged. Scott quickly quirked his brow at me. I made no indication of noticing. The warning bell rang so we went our separate ways.
In class, I took my seat next to Alex and Zach. Alex had come around to Monty and I after we all had dinner. Zach was still pretty stand-offish. The Zach issue had been pushed to the side. We had bigger things to worry about recently. And trying to figure out what was going on in Zach Dempsey’s head was always a tossup. The boy was far from an open book. “Hey Addy.” Alex greeted.
“Hey guys.”
“Hey.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to look. It was a reminder about Monty’s physio appointment tomorrow night. He texted me right away. I didn’t forget about this one.
“How are things?” I asked.
“They go.” Zach replied. Why the hell is he so cranky. It’s been two months. Over two. Everyone else has moved on. Why can’t you?
“They’re good. I started working out with Caleb and Tony.”
“That’s great Alex.”
“Yeah. Girls aren’t really that into scrawny guys.”
“That’s not true.”
“Says the girl married to an Adonis.”
“Semantics.” I shrugged.
“You’re a catch Alex.” Zach added.
“Thanks Zach.” His smile seemed a little brighter at the compliment. Huh. That could be interesting. We chatted a little more before class started. We were watching a video in class and our teacher hadn’t come back with the TV yet.
“Hey, did you guys want to get a burger or something from Rosie’s tomorrow night? Monty has physio so it would just be us.”
“I’m always down for some junk food.” Alex laughed.
“Sure. I mean,” he paused, “I could eat.”
“Great. Say five thirty?”
“Works for me. I can give you a ride Alex.” Zach offered.
After school, I waited for Monty. He had a test in physics and Mr. Brown was still a hardass about people leaving after they were done. He made everyone wait until every test was handed in. That being said, he always gave everyone five extra minutes at the end of class to finish. For daytime classes, he gave the class notes to excuse lates in their next class.
“Hey Casanova.” I called as Monty left.
“Hey Bookworm.” He leaned in to kiss me when he reached me.
“How was your test?”
“It was okay. My brain hurts.” We walked hand in hand to the Jeep. He hadn’t let me drive since he got cleared by Dr. Marcus. I miss driving it.
“Awe. I’m sorry. Can I drive?”
“No. My car. I drive.” Oh. Okay maybe Scott is right. Maybe he is a little cranky. That’s okay.
“Okay.” I smiled. I climbed in the passenger seat and buckled up.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that harsh.”
“No, I know. It’s okay. I just thought I’d offer since you look drained from that test.”
“I appreciate the offer, really. I’m good though.”
“Okay.” He leaned over and kissed me again before we drove home.
Inside, I grabbed a snack and refilled my water bottle. I grabbed a couple bags of fruit snacks for Monty too. We worked on homework quietly for a couple of hours. Justin called as I was finishing up. “Homework help?” he asked in lieu of a greeting.
“The discussion questions from my English class make no sense.”
“What are the questions?”
“What’s going on?” Monty asked me quietly. I pulled the phone away from my ear and covered the mic.
“English discussion questions.”
“I have them here.” He handed me the sheet. I looked over it carefully. I had uncovered the mic while reading.
“These are kind of dumb. Is this what you do in regular English?”
“Yeah.” My boys responded together.
“Huh. At least you get to read fun books. City of Bones is good. Okay then. Uh let me see.”
“The movie was still bad.”
“Shh. I’m helping Justin.” I grinned.
“Okay. Valentine’s rebellion.” I thought for a moment and then discussed it with Justin. “If you just write down what I say, your teacher will know you had someone else do it. So, work through it on your own now.”
“Thanks Addy. You’re the best.”
“I know. Night Justin.” After we hung up, I remembered the plans I made with Alex and Zach. “I’m going to Rosie’s with Alex and Zach tomorrow while you’re at physio.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay.” I grinned at him.
With our homework finished, we spent the rest of the evening cuddling on the couch. There was something Monty wanted to watch on tv. I had lost interest in it pretty quickly, so I got up and grabbed a book. Laying back down on the couch, I rested my head in his lap. He absentmindedly stroked my hair. Scott’s words played over in my mind. I thought about it for a little while but decided a Tuesday evening probably wasn’t the best time to potentially spend all night having sex. We have school in the morning after all. When we were getting ready for bed though, instead of putting a pair of shorts and one of my old gym shirts on, I walked over to Monty’s dresser and pulled out one of his shirts. I swam in it. I changed my underwear. He whistled to himself when he left the bathroom. I smiled to myself. The seed is planted. Monty pulled me a little closer than usual when we got in bed.
I met Zach and Alex at Rosie’s for dinner. I had run home to change first because it was warmer than I expected it to be today. I didn’t feel right going to dinner in my gym shirt, even if it was at the local diner. Since it was quiet, being the middle of the week, our waitress was at our table almost before we sat down. Melinda had been our waitress here since Zach and I were kids. She was a kind old lady. She knew everyone’s orders by heart. As such, we didn’t have to give our drink order. She did let us look at the menu “just for fun”.
“How’re things with you guys?” I asked when our drinks arrived. I took a few sips of my Cherry Coke float and stirred it to mix it up.
“Things are good. The team is looking pretty good this year. School prospects are looking good.” Zach said.
“Monty was saying that they’re shaping up pretty well. And you Alex?”
“Good. Jess and I are friends again. Tony says I’m getting stronger.”
“That’s great Alex.” I smiled.
“How are things with you Addy?”
“They’re good. I’m done with college applications for now.”
“Early admission?” Zach asked.
“Yeah. If I don’t get in anywhere, then I’ll apply for regular admission somewhere.”
Melinda was eyeing us from the counter, so we looked at the menu quickly. We decided to split a couple baskets of fries, some chicken strips, and each get a burger. I got a chicken sandwich. The boys both got cheeseburgers. After our drinks were refilled, we got back to talking. “How’s Monty doing?” Alex asked. Zach’s face pinched slightly. Seriously what the hell is his deal?
“He’s doing okay. Stubborn. But that isn’t a surprise to anyone.”
“Is he ever not stubborn?” Well, sometimes. During sex.
“I don’t think you want to know. And he would have to kill the three of us if I told you.”
“Oh? Are you trying to tell us that he’s fun?” Zach asked.
“He likes to make me smile. So sometimes he does stuff to make that happen. And that’s all you’re getting out of me.”
“And his knee?”
“You know. It’s a process. Some days are better than others. I think it bugs him more than he lets on, but I don’t want to push. Physio is helping and Dr. Marcus says he should be able to do some lower body workouts if things keep progressing well.”
“That’s good. Tell him to stop by practice sometime?”
“I’ll try. I think there’s only so many practices he can go to and just watch.”
“I get that. The invitation is open though.”
“I’ll let him know.”
Our food arrived. The three of us took a break from catching up, to savour the food. “How’s married life?” Alex asked.
“Oh, you know.” The boys looked at me, expectantly. “It’s mostly a lot of asking each other what we want for dinner. Every night. For the rest of our lives.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Zach smiled.
“That isn’t. It’s agreeing on something that’s the hard part. I married a guy who would be content eating chicken nuggets and fruit snacks for dinner every night. Trying to get him to eat a vegetable is an almost insurmountable battle.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Can you blame him?” Alex asked.
“It feels like it is sometimes. And not really. But would eating some carrots really hurt him?”
“Yes.” My friends said in unison.
“Boys.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “It’ll only get worse when we have kids and they’re at eating regular food age. Because they’ll need to be included in the decision.”
“And how can you make them eat vegetables when their dad doesn’t?” Alex laughed.
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, pointing a chicken strip at him. The three of us laughed.
“How are things with you guys… otherwise?” Zach asked, hesitantly.
“They’re,” I paused, “getting better. We’ve talked a lot in the last few weeks. I think we are back on the same page. It’s a work in progress.”
“That’s good. Things seemed pretty….” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“I know. And they were. We are working on it though.”
“It was pretty funny watching him shut Bryce down at lunch.”
“What happened?” Alex asked.
“He played the ‘let me ask my wife’ card.”
“Oof. And I’m guessing that went over Bryce’s head?”
“What do you think?”
“Of course, it did.” He grinned and shook his head.
We talked for another hour or so. Melinda brought us another basket of fries on the house. Around seven, Monty texted me. I grabbed a couple of pints of Haagen Dazs at the store.
Okay. I’ll see you at home. I love you.
I love you too. The three of us called it a night around eight. We bid each other good night and promised to text each other when we got home.
I’m on my way home. Do we need anything else before I get home?
No, I grabbed a couple of things. I’ll get your ice cream out. Drive safe Bookworm.
Okay. Thank you. I will. See you soon Casanova.
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bitterlikesweets · 19 days ago
Love Bites Ch 8
This is the eighth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Gray-blue eyes darken like a storm cloud.
“You want to kill the vampires who killed your mother.”
It’s not a question, but Eren nods, and Eren watches as thin black eyebrows dip slightly, Levi’s lips pulling into a tight frown. For a moment, Eren expects Levi to reprimand him, to tell him that he shouldn’t stoop to their level, or some other self-righteous bullshit. He hasn’t told anyone about the burning in his chest, the desire to hurt those monsters as bad as they hurt his mother. He’s been hesitant to admit the desire to himself, a part of him truly afraid that revenge will make him a monster too—as if he has any humanity left in him.
But he also knows that he’d want to kill them even if they hadn’t turned him. He wants them dead with every fiber of his being.
Maybe Eren was already a monster, even before he was turned.
So, he waits for it. The disgust, the disdain, the feelings he’s felt towards himself these past few months. He expects to see it on Levi’s face, for Levi to view Eren as he views himself. Levi has willingly given up killing vampires because he thinks that they’re still human. Levi has put that sort of violence behind him. He was a vampire hunter from birth, and he chose to quit.
Eren is the opposite.
Where do his mother’s murderers fit in Levi’s criteria for vampires who deserve to live and vampires who deserve to die? Where will Eren fit if—when he kills them?
Levi pulls his hand out of Eren’s, and Eren braces himself, his gaze locked onto the table.
“We need to go.”
It takes Eren a moment to process the words, and by the time he raises his head, Levi is across the room, his hand already on the break room door.
“Go where?”
“Somewhere I can teach you properly.”
That’s how Eren ends up following Levi into the parking lot, and then driving with only the taillights of Levi’s car to guide him through the darkened streets. Levi hasn’t said a word since they left the restaurant, so Eren just blindly follows, taking turn after turn until they’re in a suburban neighborhood Eren has never been in before.
Levi marches purposefully to a narrow, two-story house after parking on the sidewalk, and Eren hurries to follow him.
“The easiest way to kill a vampire is to ambush them in their sleep and drag them into the sun,” Levi says as he unlocks the door to the house.
He steps inside and swerves to the left, throwing open the door to a coat closet just beside the entrance. Eren watches him curiously, closing the door behind them.
“Obviously, you can’t do that, or you’d die too,” Levi continues, kneeling on the floor as he rummages through the small closet.
Eren glances around the still dark house. Levi has yet to turn the lights on, but Eren is more than comfortable in the dark these days anyway. He scans the area, takes in the living room, the winding staircase and the small kitchen down the hall from the entrance. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for—though perhaps a part of him was hoping that Levi would have a wall of knives and stakes and weapons, like a vampire hunter from a movie—but there’s nothing unusual about the place, other than the fact that almost all of Levi’s furniture appears to be black.
Levi emerges from the closet and tosses something at Eren’s feet. Eren frowns once he realizes what it is.
“So I should use a water gun?”
“It’s a possibility,” Levi says. “It was a personal favorite of mine when I was younger. I’d fill it with holy water and spray them in the eyes; it doesn’t kill them, but temporarily blinding them provided good opportunities for other tactics.”
Eren swallows, staring down at the colorful toy with a mix of awe and apprehension. He can imagine it for a moment. Young Levi—in his early teens maybe?—armed with a water gun and a stake, spraying vampires in the face and stabbing them while they claw at their eyes.
Eren is extremely glad he’s on Levi’s nice list.
“The most important thing is the element of surprise,” Levi continues, back to sorting through his closet. “I’m human, so vampires have every advantage over me. Strength, senses, healing… For you, the vampires you want to kill will likely have more combat experience than you. You’re at a disadvantage by default, so you need to create your own openings.”
The next thing that Levi pulls out of the closet is a metal crossbow, and Eren stares incredulously at the weapon as Levi holds it out to him.
“This is always effective; it’s quick and simple,” Levi explains as Eren takes it into his hands, trying to make sense of the mess of metal bars and wires. “But only if you nail the first shot. You have to get them in the chest.”
Eren frowns.
“And if I miss?”
“Best case scenario, you’ve alerted the vampire to your presence but have injured them enough that you have a chance at close combat.”
“What’s the worst case scenario?”
“You didn’t hit them, and you die.”
Eren’s not sure why he asked.
“In any case, you need to prepare for close combat no matter what method you choose.”
Levi gets to his feet and kicks the closet door closed. As he turns back to Eren, he throws something, and Eren is used to the man’s sudden tosses, so he catches it with ease. As he examines the object in his hands, he realizes it’s a wooden knife, blade and all.
“Alright,” Levi says, stretching his arms out for a moment before crouching slightly, flipping the knife in his hand. “Try to kill me.”
Eren blinks.
Levi rolls his eyes as if Eren is the ridiculous one here.
“It’s a simple task, brat. Try to kill me.”
“I’m sorry—what part of what you just asked me to do is simple?”
“Don’t get queasy now. You’re the one who wanted to learn how to murder people.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ll give you ten seconds, or I’m striking first.”
Eren’s gaze locks on the knife gripped in Levi’s hand.
“Will you just—”
Eren watches the man’s grip on the wooden handle tighten, sinking a bit lower into his crouch.
“Oh for fuck’s—”
Eren grips his the knife tightly and it feels large and foreign in his hand—and a part of his brain realizes how fucking stupid he is because how the hell is he supposed to murder a vampire if he doesn’t know how to hold a knife—and he rushes at Levi, knife raised. He’s halfway to him, pushing his feet to run as fast as they can in the small room. He’s looking at Levi’s chest, trying to pretend that the hunter is a vampire. He pulls the weapon back like he’s pulling back for a punch.
When his arm shoots forward, he accidentally glances up at Levi’s face because the man has yet to move a muscle, and he swears for a moment that Levi is on the verge of a smirk—
Levi catches Eren’s arm before he can land a blow on him, twisting the limb sharply until Eren yelps and drops the wooden weapon. A swift kick to his ankles sweeps Eren off his feet, and Levi releases his arm to shove him to the floor, dashing any hopes Eren had of regaining his balance. Eren’s eyes squeeze shut as his back slams into the ground, and when he opens them again, Levi has a hand against his throat and the point of the knife hovering above Eren’s chest, where his dead heart is unable to portray the panic surging through his veins.
“You sure you thought this through?” Levi asks.
“I have!” Eren exclaims at first, but a raise of Levi’s eyebrow makes him frown and avert his gaze. “Maybe not so much about the execution of the plan, but…”
Levi scoffs and pulls away, tossing his knife in the air and catching it with enough ease that it makes Eren want to snap at him for showing off.
“Can’t you at least give me a few pointers about what I’m supposed to do—”
“Are you really going to—”
Eren glares at Levi, but the man tilts his head slightly, sinking back into his defensive stance.
“Fuck you.”
Eren closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before scrambling to his feet. Okay. Trying to just rush him from the front is stupid anyway. He needs to think of something else.
By the time he rushes towards Levi, he has not thought of something else.
He pulls back his arm and then practically throws himself forward. Levi reaches out to grab his arm out of the air like he did before, and Eren watches the movement, thinking that he can just dodge Levi’s grasp and try again—
Except it’s far harder to stop his own momentum than he thought it would be.
Levi grabs him and yanks Eren closer, and Eren feels the knife on his chest before he sees Levi’s arm move.
“You’re too slow,” Levi says, and Eren grits his teeth, yanking himself away.
He rummages around in his pockets, dropping the knife on the floor once he finds a hair tie in the back pocket of his pants. He’s already sweating, and his long hair flying in front of his eyes is not helping. Levi simply stares as Eren pulls his brown hair into an impromptu bun.
When Eren bends down to pick up the knife, he hears, “Ten.”
Eren scowls, but he readies himself. He switches the way he holds the knife, trying to hold it the way Levi does. Levi's grip is a bit looser, with the blade angled upward, sharp end facing out.
He stares at Levi, trying to understand why he’s positioned the way he is.
Eren plants his feet firmly on the floor and bends his legs slightly.
He looks at Levi’s feet. The man is leaning forward slightly.
Eren leans forward, puts his weight on his toes and the balls of his feet.
He gets it, for a moment. It’ll be better for when he moves. It’s like he’s poised at the starting line of a race, waiting for the gun to go off.
Eren pulls his arms up in front of himself, shielding his face and his chest. He doesn’t know about knives, but he’s been in more than his fair share of fist fights.
He clearly doesn’t know anything about attacking just yet.
Maybe he’ll be better at defending.
If nothing else, he’ll have the chance to observe Levi’s approach.
Eren watches Levi dash forward, and he pulls his knife in front of himself, thinking he can block Levi’s attack—
Levi’s arm moves like a flash, and Eren’s vaguely aware of pain in his hand before he takes in the crack of wood slamming against wood, before he realizes that thing flying through the air is his knife. He sees Levi shift his feet, his arms low, and Eren tries to jump out of the way, but Levi is too quick, his arms shooting upwards and forwards, and Eren can fucking hear the air whizzing around Levi’s arms, and for a second he thinks, this is where I die—
The wooden knife stops an inch away from his throat, but Eren is still trying to lean away and he loses his balance, stumbling backwards and falling on his ass.
Levi stands over him, knife loosely in his hand. He’s frowning, but there’s something different about his eyes. Eren isn’t sure if he’s imagining it, but something in Levi’s eyes looks like it’s shining, like there’s something about this whole ordeal that excites him, thrills him.
His voice does not carry that same excitement.
“Never let the vampire attack first.”
Levi turns abruptly on his heel, marching back to his previous position. Eren takes a deep breath, wiping the beginnings of sweat from his forehead.
“Again,” Levi snaps, and Eren hurries to his feet, scrambling to find his knife as Levi continues to count down.
~ ~ ~
An hour later, and Eren is a tired, sweaty mess on Levi’s living room floor. He’s just been knocked off his feet for the umpteenth time. His chest is heaving, damp locks that escaped from his hasty bun sticking to his face like thin strands of glue. Levi is still standing, staring impassively at the big vampire sprawled on his carpeted floors, long limbs spread out, besides the arm over Eren’s face.
“Fuck,” Eren says, and Levi huffs.
“Let’s stop for today.”
“No!” Eren exclaims, hurriedly pushing himself upwards, though the action makes him dizzy, and he falls back to the floor. “Not until I get you at least once.”
“Eren,” Levi says, “today was just practice. You don’t have to be ready within one day.”
“Maybe I would do better if you explained something instead of just beating me up,” Eren grumbles.
“Today was just for me to get a sense of how you fight. You’re not going to magically be ready to hunt even if I told you what I thought you should do.”
Levi sighs, and Eren shifts his arm away from his face to squint up at the man.
“In any case, this is how I learned. I don’t know any other way to teach you.”
“Pity me,” Eren says, covering his eyes with his arm again. “We’re not all prodigies.”
“That’s why I’m telling you we can stop for today, you shitty brat.”
“No,” Eren says again. “One more… give me one more try.”
“Just one,” Eren insists, pushing himself to his feet. “Then I’ll stop.”
Levi sighs, running his fingers through his own damp hair.
“Fine. One more.”
They slide back into their positions, and Eren takes slow steady breaths. He’s tired, but he’s not exhausted—his brain is far more fatigued than his body is. Eren wants to get it, and he wants for it all to click. Because he wants to kill those bastards who hurt his mom, and he fears that they’ll be out of his reach if he waits for too long.
He barely remembers what they look like, and it was months ago, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be lucky if the vampires are anywhere near enough for him to even attempt to find them.
His chest is burning and not just from exertion. His muscles tense at just the thought of those fuckers getting away. He’s pissed at himself for not going after them right away, or at least sooner than this, even though he knows that his lack of knowledge and experience would’ve gotten him killed.
Eren grits his teeth, and his fangs feel heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t care about the reality of the situation. He doesn’t care if it’s reckless or if he’s not ready. He wants to find them, and he wants them dead. He wants to be the one who kills them. He wants to make them pay.
He wants to make them scream, just like his mother did.
His body feels incredibly light as he rushes forward. The knife is in his hand, but he’s rushing face first, fangs bared, his mouth open and ready to snap. He sees his mother’s throat in the back of his mind, bloody and fragile, and it’s far too easy to envision those red-eyed monsters in front of him, thanks to the darkness of Levi’s house—
The man’s eyes are wide, and even though Eren sees that his hands are already coming up to block, even though he knows that Levi is a vampire hunter, that it’ll be easy for him to dodge, he freezes midstep, close enough that he can hear Levi breathing.
The fire in his chest has stopped burning, and he feels sick to his stomach.
Eren’s whole body feels stiff. He brings his hands up to cover his mouth and looks back to the spot where he was previously standing. He moved so fast. He doesn’t remember taking more than a single step.
“I’m sorry,” Eren says, his voice muffled by his hands.
“For what?” Levi asks, trying to step into Eren’s line of sight, but Eren jerks his head away. “That was good; we should’ve been practicing like that this whole time. With the way you are, sometimes I forget. But you should be using all your abilities. Your fangs are a better weapon than any shitty knife.”
“I don’t—I don’t want to practice like that.”
“Why not?”
Eren wants to vomit. He squeezes his eyes shut, and he’s reliving that day again. But it’s different. He sees himself at the party, thrashing about. He’s throwing his cake off the table, breaking all the windows in the house. His mother is screaming at him, Stop Eren, please! He’s the vampire. He’s the red-eyed monster tearing his mother’s throat out.
His mouth—his fangs throb.
It’s not true. He knows it’s not. He was human before that night.
But a memory that is most definitely real flashes in his brain. One he’s been trying to push down.
It’s the morning after his birthday. He’s in a panic, calling the police, begging them to save his mom even though she’s already gone. And he sees himself in the reflection of the glass scattered around the house. There’s blood on his mouth. He wipes it off, and that’s when he sees the scar, the fangs. And somehow, a part of Eren knows that the blood in his mouth isn’t his own.
Levi’s voice drags him back to the present, and Eren is still pressing his hands over his mouth. He’s crouched on the floor, curled in on himself, and there’s something wet spilling over his cheeks, his hands.
Levi kneels down in front of him, and Eren realizes he’s crying. Again.
He feels pathetic.
“I don’t—” Eren chokes out. “I don’t want to fight like that. Like them.”
“Okay,” Levi says, and his voice is soft.
“I don’t wanna be like them,” Eren says, “but I… I—”
“It’s okay,” Levi says, “you won’t be.”
“But I—”
“Eren,” Levi says, and his firm tone makes Eren press his lips together, dropping his gaze to the floor.
He feels a hand on his shoulder, and then it slides lower, to the center of his back. And when Levi pushes his unsteady body forward, Eren falls without complaint. His head drops onto Levi’s shoulder, and he feels like a child as he reaches out to grasp Levi’s shirt in his hands. The man’s arms wrap around him, and Levi sits there, silent, as he lets Eren cry into his shoulder, wide shoulders shaking with the effort to regain control of himself.
“Am I a monster?” Eren asks, his already quiet voice muffled as he speaks the words into Levi’s shoulder.
“No,” Levi whispers, and his head drops to rest on Eren’s. “You’re human. Fuck, you’re more human than me.”
“What do you…?”
Levi just shakes his head and pulls Eren closer. Eren sighs, sagging against Levi.
“Don’t wanna be like them,” he mumbles again.
“You won’t be,” Levi whispers. “You won’t be.”
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mellaithwen · 19 days ago
Spoilers for 4x13 and the 4x14 promo/sneak peak
In the aftermath of the shooting, Buck's determined to get Eddie to safety.
The sound of a gunshot cracks through the air, and suddenly Eddie’s being bowled over by the force of it, as it slams into his right shoulder from behind. Buck doesn’t even get the chance to register what’s happening before he’s being covered in Eddie’s blood, and all he can do is blink.
Eddie’s staring at him, and Buck’s just staring right back. The two of them, mirror images of each other, their shirts stained with blood, just standing there, frozen in their mutual shock. Time slows to a crawl, and the hairs on the back of Buck’s neck stand on end. The air feels cold, but the blood on his cheek is warm and his brain stutters, unable to process anything around him. He feels like his whole body is trapped—stuck—and Eddie is too. It’s like they’re both bound together with bloodied string, tethered to this awful moment that seems forever stretched, infinitely looped with no way out, caught in a vacuum—
Until Eddie starts to fall, and the line goes slack.
His knees buckle, his body stumbles, and he’s falling to the ground. Every part of Buck thinks he should jump forward and catch him, but he can’t—he can’t move, he can’t think—he forgets how to breathe, so he barely even notices when Captain Mehta knocks the wind out of his chest as he tackles him to the ground.
“Get down!”
Buck’s head bounces off of the side of the fire engine, and his arms get scraped and cut from the force of his landing on the asphalt, but he doesn’t feel any of it.
He doesn’t feel anything.  
The muscles in his diaphragm contract from the hard blow and his lungs are left spasming painfully as everything seems to move at a snail’s pace. And all Buck knows is Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie—Something’s gotta give—we got Cap, Hen, Chimney, Buck, we can’t just call you—
Eddie, who’s on the ground. Eddie, who’s writhing in pain on the other side of the fire engine. Eddie, who’s been shot. His Eddie. People ever call you “Diaz”?
Not if they want me to respond.  
God, does he want him to respond...
Buck’s mind is going a mile-a-minute, playing catch up, trying to make amends for the earlier delay by racing ahead faster than he can even comprehend.
Gunshot wound to the shoulder—his training pipes up, clambering to the foreground of his brain, pushing its way through the mire of shock and awe in an attempt to fix what was supposed to be just a normal shift, but is fast becoming a complete fucking nightmare. There’s so much blood already; it’s on the ground, on Eddie’s uniform, on Buck’s shirt and all over his face—
It could be the brachial artery...or was the shot higher than that? Buck can’t get a good look from where he is. He’s stuck, and he’s dizzy but his thoughts are rushing over him like a tidal wave and he can’t find his footing in all the chaos. He’s drowning, he’s—
Numb, he tells Hen when she asks. When the bomber’s been taken care of and it’s finally safe for his family to approach, because he’s been crushed, bleeding under the fire truck for god knows how long now, just waiting for rescue, and he’s so fucking scared—
Not the brachial artery, the angle of the shot was higher than that, so subclavian maybe? Which means… which means arterial blood could be spilling into Eddie’s lungs right this second. Not to mention the risk of hypovolemic shock. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he has to do something. He has to stop the bleeding, he needs, he needs—
He needs Hen, he needs Chimney, they’d know what to do, they’d know how to fix it. Buck’s always eager to learn, to assist, but they’re the experts, and he has to apply pressure, stop the bleeding, check Eddie’s vitals, and get him to the nearest trauma centre, but he can’t even reach him, and there are black spots dancing in his field of vision —
He has to, he has to, he has to—
“…... Buckley!”
He finally takes a breath—a shuddering inhale of desperate air floods into his winded chest, and his ears go pop. The sound all around him returns in full-force—reappearing to fill the quiet void as though his own empty lungs had been keeping the noise at bay—now all rushing back, and god it’s loud.
Captain Mehta’s voice is being drowned out by people screaming in the street, and there are other voices too, voices with authority, other firefighters telling people to take cover, directing them to safety. Buck thinks in any other situation he might have been one of them—but not today. Today he’s lying face down on the ground, staring at his best friend, unable to get to him, with the sound of someone else’s radio crackling beside his ear, and the voice of a dispatcher he doesn’t recognise promising assistance.  
Too late, he thinks in horror, it’s too late.
“Buckley!” Mehta tries to get his attention again. “Are you hit?” He asks him, but Buck doesn’t respond. He can’t. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can taste blood on his lips, blood that isn’t his, and he clamps his jaw shut before the bile in his throat has a chance to escape.  He tries to shake his head but he has no idea if he manages it or not.
He can’t even begin to process anything that’s going on around him, because none of it makes any sense. There weren’t any weapons on the scene, they didn’t even have a police presence with them yet. They hadn’t needed one.
“133 responding,” dispatch had confirmed after Eddie had called it in back at the firehouse less than an hour ago, and Buck had taken one look at Eddie’s face—at the little furrowed frown between his eyebrows that said he wouldn’t have been satisfied until he’d made sure the kid was okay with his own eyes—one look and Buck knew he’d do anything he could to fix it. To get Eddie to where he needed to go.
“Come on!” He’d said, grabbing the keys for the battalion truck and peeling out of there without even changing into his gear. Buck thinks he might have asked Chim to give Bobby a heads up but he can’t be sure. He can’t be sure of anything anymore.
Just a couple seconds of an unhappy Eddie was all it took for him to throw caution to the wind. To drop everything just to try and get them on scene in time to meet the other crew as they’d been pulling up.
Buck had been the one to suggest it. He’d been the one to grab the keys. He’d been the one careening down the street of LA with the sirens on—with Eddie in the passenger seat because between the two of them Buck’s always been the better driver in a crisis, and Eddie had to stay on the phone to comfort the kid on the other end.
Dammit, if Buck had just taken a moment to stop and think, then maybe Eddie might not be—
The potential what ifs are choking him. Guilt, and fear and adrenaline, all of it’s curdling in his stomach, twisting his insides into knots, and he doesn’t know what to do next because he doesn’t know what the hell’s going on now.
But then he makes eye contact with Eddie on the ground and he knows none of it matters. It doesn’t matter how they got here, because here is a fucking mess and the sooner the two of them can get back home—back to the firehouse, back to safety, back to help—the better.
He moves to get up, to make his way over to Eddie’s side, but Mehta’s hand is firm at his back and it’s pushing him down.  Buck presses his face into the asphalt and stares straight ahead—eyes locked onto Eddie’s prone form, still lying out in the middle of the street where he’d fallen. And Buck can’t look away, because if he does, if he so much as blinks he thinks Eddie might disappear and he can’t let that happen, he won’t.
So he keeps staring. He tries to reassure Eddie with a look that says, I’m gonna get you out of this I swear—but he thinks he must be failing at even that, because Eddie doesn’t look reassured. He doesn’t even look like Eddie anymore. He’s pale and still, and no doubt shock’s setting in. His usually bright brown eyes are dulled with pain, glazed over—they’re running out of time —and his fingertips are stretched out towards Buck, reaching for him, but he’s too far away. His lips are moving like he’s trying to say something but he’s not making a sound.
Don’t look away, Buck thinks, even when Eddie’s own eyes are rolling into the back of his head. Even when that reaching hand goes limp on the ground, and Eddie’s body slumps backwards onto the street beside the growing pool of blood that’s spreading out from under him at an alarming rate.
“Eddie…” Buck whispers aloud finally, his voice sounding more like a wounded animal than a man, as he lets out a low keening noise into the crook of his elbow.
He tries to get out again from under Mehta’s hold but the Captain’s having none of it.
“Son, it’s not safe,” he insists over the din, and Buck knows that, but he doesn’t care—and he’s pretty sure Mehta knows that too.
So if it’s not safe to get up—he’ll go across instead. He starts to crawl to the side, heading for underneath the fire engine that they’re using for cover in a bid to get closer to Eddie, and this time, the Captain of the 133 doesn’t stop him.
“Eddie!” Buck shouts again when he’s close, because if there’s even a chance the fallen firefighter can hear him—that he might wake up and shuffle any closer to the safety of the rig—then Buck has to try.
“Ed—” He calls again, but this time his voice falters, caught in the back of his throat when he gets no answer.
There’s another shot in the distance, a horrible bang from somewhere behind him, followed by the surreal sound of a lead round slamming into metal at high velocity—much louder than if the bullet had found a soft target. Buck flinches so hard that his head hits the underside of the engine and his adrenaline spikes. He didn’t think his heart could beat any faster but it’s hammering even harder against his chest now with every second that passes.
Almost instantly, he can hear the tell tale whoosh of a fire igniting in the distance. He can smell smoke, and oil, and he wants to laugh and tell Eddie that Bobby’s gonna kill him when he finds out that Buck stole the battalion truck only to get it shot at and blown up—except Eddie’s unconscious. Eddie’s unresponsive. Eddie’s bleeding out, and they’re running out of time .
“Eddie!” Buck’s crawling closer still, until he’s reaching out from under cover, his arm outstretched into the mid-afternoon sun, held out as far as he can manage. “Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t wake up right now—”
There’s a flutter, and Buck thinks he can even hear Eddie’s voice groaning.
“Eddie? Eddie! Come on, come on man, just wake up, I’ve almost got you,” and it’s true. Even as Buck’s saying the words out loud, his fingertips are finally brushing against Eddie’s sleeve.
He sees shattered glass on the ground, sparkling in the daylight. Another shot must have hit the windshield and scattered the pieces on the ground, but Buck just swipes it all to one side to keep it out of Eddie’s way. For a second his mind tries to remind him that there’s a sniper with a telescopic view probably watching his every move right now, and what he’s planning to do could backfire at any second—but Buck just tamps it down, he locks it away. He tunes it out.
He doesn’t let himself think about what he has to do next. About the damage he might inflict, or the pain that he’ll cause. He can’t think about the risk involved in moving Eddie and making him a target again for their attacker down the barrel of a scope, because he doesn’t have a choice. If Eddie doesn’t get to a hospital he’s gonna bleed out, and there’s not a chance Buck’s letting that happen.
“Eddie, I’m gonna pull you under here with me, okay? And it’s gonna hurt, and I’m sorry, but I’ll go as quick as I can,” he says all at once in a rush, because those brown eyes are finally open again, and they’re turned towards Buck in confusion. In pain.
“I’m sorry,” Buck insists one more time as he adjusts his grip, and pulls.
With a firm hold of the bloody fabric of Eddie’s uniform, Buck drags his best friend until he can get a better grip of his arm, and then he’s tugging on that too. He’s trying to be fast to minimise the pain he’s causing, but from the noises Eddie’s making, it doesn’t seem to make a damn bit of difference. Buck refuses to dwell on it in the moment—though, it’ll haunt him afterwards, he’s sure—but in the here and now he can’t stop. He has to keep going, so he locks his knees, presses his legs into the ground to give himself leverage, and keeps pulling Eddie backwards until he’s finally under the cover of the engine with him. Finally back in his arms.
Buck takes a second just to breathe and give Eddie a moment's respite in the shade of the rig they’re sheltering under. His hands hover, uncertain suddenly, and he’s teetering dangerously close to the edge of panic once more. He reaches out to wipe at the smear of blood that’s on Eddie’s cheek, and he’s relieved to see Eddie’s eyes tracking the movement.
“You gotta stay with me,” Buck whispers, as he cradles Eddie’s cheek in his palm, painfully aware of how cold and pale he is in his arms. “Please.” He’s never been too proud to beg for the things that matter, for the things he needs, and he needs Eddie to hang on.
“What...?” Eddie starts to ask, before stopping to take a staggered breath. “Hurts,” he settles on saying instead as he blinks slowly, aborting an attempt to arch his back as a painful spasm rushes over him.
“I know,” Buck says, readying himself to start moving again, “I know, but we’re nearly there, okay? Just hang on a little longer.”
“Buckley,” Captain Mehta’s voice interrupts from the edge of the engine where he’s crouched with two of his own firefighters, waiting, ready to assist. He looks concerned, and for a moment, his eyes widen as he catches a glimpse of the sheer amount of blood under Eddie’s prone form, before the mask of command slips back into place a second later. “We can’t wait for an ambulance, we’re getting out of here in the rig. You keep a hold of Diaz, and we’ll pull you out, okay?”
Buck nods, immeasurably grateful for the support as Mehta gets his guys into position, and he feels their hands grab a firm hold of his ankles.
“Alright, let’s get this done quickly,” The Captain says, “nearest hospital is six minutes out. On three, one, two, three—” and Buck keeps a desperate hold of Eddie in his arms, his hands curled around Eddie’s wrists, his fingertips resting on the fluttering pulse points that he can’t help but cling to. Reassured that Eddie’s still there, that his heart’s still beating, that he’s still fighting.
They’re both dragged out so much faster than if Buck had been relying on only his own shuffling to get them there, and before he knows it he’s jumping to his feet to pull Eddie out the rest of the way. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, he mutters a litany, still holding on to Eddie as he drags him upright, with Davis and Peterson from the 133 at his back to give support.
They don’t stop for a second, not until Eddie’s free and clear and as ready for transport as someone can be when there’s no backboard, no gurney, and no ambulance at their disposal.
Buck refuses to think about the weight of Eddie gone limp in his arms as he carries him towards the rig. Of the blood that’s still pulsing out of the man’s wound at his shoulder. Buck’s already looking forward to burning his own shirt the first chance he gets, as soon as this is over, as soon as Eddie’s safe.
Inside the engine cab it’s cramped, and there’s not even enough room to lay Eddie down properly, but they make do with what they have. They drape him over two seats, with Davis and Peterson crouched down on either side of the space, avoiding the windows to keep from being exposed to the gunman while grabbing for whatever limited supplies they might have within reach. That leaves Buck to stand, half-hunched over Eddie’s body in the small space, singularly focused on the patient in front of him as he tries to maintain his balance in the moving vehicle, and treat his family at the same time.
“Dispatch, we have a firefighter with a gunshot wound—” he hears Captain Mehta saying over the radio from the front seat, as Buck opens Eddie’s shirt to assess the damage and check his vitals.
“Pulse is weak,” he says as Davis hands him a wad of gauze pads and helps press them over Eddie’s wound. “Airway’s clear, but breathing’s shallow,” Buck continues listing mechanically as he tries to maintain his composure—reporting out loud to anyone who’ll listen as though he’s taking his EMT1 practical all over again, and not treating his best friend with a gunshot wound.
“Eddie,” he calls out loud, rubbing his knuckles over the man’s sternum to gauge a response because he hasn’t heard anything from the injured firefighter since they’d gotten him inside the vehicle.
Eddie moans in pain, when the engine lurches around a corner at top speed, and Mehta shouts back that they’re only two minutes out. Buck thinks if his body had the emotional capacity left to spare a drop, he might have sobbed in relief.
“…Chris…” Eddie whispers brokenly, and Buck just nods furiously in response, his eyes roaming over the pendant at Eddie’s neck, the silver chain smeared with red.
“You’re gonna see him in no time, okay?” Buck tells him, his voice insistent as he gently taps the side of Eddie’s cheek to maintain visual when his eyes start to lose focus again.
“Hey—hey, Eddie, look at me, look at me,” he’s cradling his jaw now, his thumb brushing away the tears from where they’ve fallen down the side of his friend’s face. Eddie leans in to the touch, and Buck has to swallow the lump in his throat to continue, so close to losing it himself.
“I’m bringing you home, okay? I promise. You understand?”
Eddie just nods weakly in response, clearly trying not to whimper as he presses his cheek into Buck’s palm.
You have to fight, Buck wants to scream, suddenly so immeasurably angry with himself for wasting so much time, their time. For waiting to be met halfway instead of just taking the leap for the both of them. Furious, for not making a note of every single moment that they’ve shared together—every false-start, every laugh, every argument, every touch—and not doing something about it. For just letting all of those loose delicate threads hang listlessly in the air between them. Set adrift.
“I’m here,” Buck says firmly instead. “And you’re gonna be fine,” he insists, half-praying, as they pull up outside of the hospital, and help is finally within reach. Davis and Peterson are already jumping into position to help get Eddie out once they come to a stop, and Buck grabs a hold of Eddie’s hand as he shifts to do the same, squeezing the cold, almost lax fingers in his grasp.  
Outside the shattered window of the cab he can see a host of medical personnel running towards them with a gurney, and when he looks back down at Eddie, he can see his eyes are closed once more.
“Just stay with me,” Buck says, begging, as he presses a kiss on to the back of Eddie’s hand.
“...stay,”   Eddie mumbles quietly in return, as his breath hitches, and Buck doesn’t know if he’s just repeating the request, on his way to unconsciousness, or making one of his own. Either way, neither of them are going anywhere without the other. Buck’s certain of that much at least.
“Always,” Buck promises, because they still have time, they do, and he puts every part of his soul into that word—pushing it out into the universe and praying for it not to make him out to be a liar. He says it even as he lets the doctors rush Eddie out of sight, and he’s left floundering at the entrance in their wake, staring at his bloodied hands like he doesn’t even know who they belong to. Always, he thinks drifting on the other side of the hospital doors, aimless, until the backs of his knees hit the engine rig that’s still parked outside, and he collapses onto the step as if his strings have been cut.  
“Always,” he says, as he lets the enormity of the last hour wash over him. He slumps sideways, leaning against the vehicle, trying not to flinch when Captain Mehta appears, and puts a firm hand on his shoulder to steady him, as he braces himself for what is likely to be the first of many breakdowns to come.
on ao3/mellaithwen
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woodchoc-magnum · 26 days ago
L0ne St@r 2x12 Hate Watch
DO NOT REBLOG THIS ONE - thanks, I’m trying to fly under the radar with my negative opinions here
Usual disclaimer, and I mean it this time: If you watch and love this show, that’s great and I hope you continue to enjoy it. Please don’t read this - simply go about having a lovely day.
If you do love this show and T*rlos and are braving this anyway - do not come in here. I mean it. This is not a T*rlos friendly zone. I do not ship it. Please enjoy your ship in peace and harmony. I have no intention of getting into arguments with anyone, I will simply ignore you.
I have done everything I can to avoid this showing up in the tags, whatever the LS tags are. Don’t send me hate on anon because I’ll delete them; I don’t care if you think I should stop watching the show, I’m not gonna. I like to suffer.
Eddie Diaz for calm and strength and to centre ourselves:
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Hate, as always, under the cut:
Let's do this fucking thing, I've heard bad things about this episode
And I already know I'm wrong about the arsonist which is ANNOYING but maybe also too obvious so that's okay, I also know who the arsonist is and all the main plot points but I’ve still got to watch it to really appreciate the subtle nuances of the episode:
Oooh Billy
I ship it
Billwen for the win
This show is so dumb
Billy is smarter than Owen, maybe he should be the captain of the 126
I miss his lightning scars though
TK is looking as bland as always
They seriously waited for two fucking hours for this guy
Maybe should've put some deodorant on before going to dinner there Owen
You know I can't imagine the OG doing a storyline as dumb as this
So Carlos' dad thinks it's someone who works at the 126 or just a firefighter in general?
Well gosh darn it, it looks like Owen fits that profile exactly!
At least we get some Judd early in the episode and I love him
Angela Bassett is executive producer on this show as well? I hope she gets paid cash money for this
Billy is the red herring and I fell right into their trap
I just really wanted it to be him
Ooh Grace was listening
Oh it's 100% the arson investigator and Billy is 100% turning Owen in, I love him
Billy is amazing
He's my favourite character on this show
I hope he's not working with Owen to get the arson investigator? I hope he's actually this devious
I want him to be THIS DEVIOUS
Why the fuck does Owen wear that hoodie everywhere
TK is now having a little bitch fit
"they can't do that, can they?" he asks in a monotone, his face blank and devoid of expression
TK's real real dumb
Oh ho ho is this the shoving scene
Okay so while I think it is wildly unbelievable that they would send TK's boyfriend to tell him that his father had been arrested by HIS father – it seems like a conflict – I would like to say that Carlos is being calm and reasonable
And TK is acting like a little BITCH
This is escalating quickly
Oh TK you so dumb
Your fave is problematic, yo
Carlos deserves better than this whiny little piece of shit
And now, an interlude while I rant:
Let's talk about how Eddie Diaz yelled at Buck once in a supermarket and the fandom has never forgotten it; how his character has been villainised despite everything else going on in the show at the time, for that one fucking scene – let's talk about all the fics where Eddie hits Buck, or punches him, or rapes him – because you know those fics exist – let's talk about the "Eddie is violent" narrative that parts of this fandom like to push because Eddie yelled at Buck, one time, once, in a supermarket
Totally ignoring the fact that at no point at all, in any other episode he’s been in, has he been violent towards Buck, at all - let’s talk about how the street fighting arc was out of character for Eddie, because he was struggling to cope and looking for an outlet - let’s talk about how Buck and Eddie moved past that whole storyline and strengthened their relationship; how they built a family together, how they’re a team and they have each other’s backs no matter what, and how, not once in the entire show, have they ever been violent towards each other or pushed each other around in anger - NOT ONCE.
And let's talk about this scene, where TK, ya boy, ya sweet tender boy, just shoved the man he says he loved four times, violently, in front of people at the firehouse.
I betcha any money he doesn’t get tarnished with the Eddie-Diaz-is-violent brush, because he can do no wrong. He’s the fan favourite, and this is totally glossed over by the end of the episode and nothing will ever be said about it ever again.
Because wow, you guys. Wow. If this was my ship, I’d be pissed.
Back to the hate watch:
And I know that whole fight is for nothing because I know the plot twist – I know that the dads are working together in order to reveal the real arsonist, the investigator – so they've basically turned their children, who are in a relationship, against each other?
Also why is Billy allowed to be watching the interview?
Goddamn do we really have to show the gruesome burn victim photos
I really want Billy to be devious by the way, and not in on the plan
Oh here comes TK, looking like the little bitch he is
God he's a fucking awful actor
This is the dumbest plotline ever
Uh oh here comes the evil investigator
Do either of these men – Owen and Carlos' dad – stop to consider that what they're doing has kind of an impact on their children, who are currently in a relationship? No? Okay
Because this is one hell of an awkward situation
Does Owen genuinely think that Billy is the arsonist?
Interesting that the arson investigator wants any info Owen didn't give Carlos' dad, and he turned off the cameras/mics etc
This show is stupid
Arson investigator also knows that the sons are dating, interesting
"And you can pound sand!" oooh great comeback Owen
This episode is so BORING OMG
Why the fuck am I watching a shitty Law & Order knock-off when I should be watching a bonkers 911 episode
Oh no Judd's at Billy's
I really do think Billy Burke is good looking and it is a flaw of mine, I don't know what it is about him and he really doesn't look that good in this show but I really love Billy Burke okay
Oh Judd
Oh Judd thinks Billy is the arsonist
Oh he punched him
God damn everyone is violent in this show
Uh oh here comes trouble to the "vagrant's" hospital room
Oh it's the arson investigator, their little bluff worked, incredible, amazing, flawless etc
Wow how amazing
It was the ol' switcheroo
Judd punched Billy for nothing
TK and Carlos nearly came to blows for nothing
Now Owen is allowed to watch the interrogation? They'll just let anyone watch those things these days
Damn it I wanted DEVIOUS god damn it
Fucking cowards
"I assumed it was probably a trap at the hospital which is why I went there anywhere"
But why is he lighting fires
A man is dead
Pure theatre
So annoyed that Billy isn't devious
But the Billwen ship sails on, clowns 🤡
Do we think the arsonist has the hots for Owen? 100% yes, right?
He's very happy to see him wink wonk
This doesn't even feel like an episode of 911, it's so goddamn dumb
"I knew you had darkness in you too" – that dude definitely wants to fuck him
Why is he lighting the fires?
They're so dumb
"And now I'm going to repay the favour" – he's talking about YOUR SONS
Wow these two dumbasses really have no fucking idea do they
Wow this is graphic
What the fuck is up with this show and the horribly graphic scenes lately?
That dude is dead yo
"Take away everything that's important to me" AND HE CALLS THE FIREHOUSE FIRST
Oh okay it did blow up and TK was there so I'll allow it
But hey look on the bright side – Owen gets to remodel again!
And isn't that what he's the best at?
Yo your firehouse is on fire dudes, better call the fire department
Does Judd apologise to Billy or no
Oh here we have TK and Carlos and their perfect love
And Carlos is the one apologising?
Please tell me no
Carlos you are allowed to be pissed at him – ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME
"nobody has to apologise?"
Oh my god
Look I'm just saying that to me this would be a GIGANTIC RED FLAG but wtf do I know
I'm just saying because I have to – if Carlos was a woman and TK did that? Whole different story gang
Whole completely different mother-fucking story
This show, wow
Wow. This is bad.
Domestic violence happens to men too, just saying.
Wow I'm so annoyed that I've paused it to type furiously and rant that wow, they're just not acknowledging that TK was totally out of line? Okay. Wow.
And everyone's just fine with it?
Oh they're just figuring out that he set more than one fire
Maybe there's something else you care about other than the firehouse, Owen
See this is why Billy is the best
Oh no TK and Carlos are in danger
Oh it's so romantic isn't it? They're gonna fuck now that everything is okay
Wow he left a lot of bombs in Carlos' house
Damn Carlos is hot
No smoke alarms?
That fire has really taken ahold there guys
I'm gonna assume you do have smoke alarms and he disconnected them
Wow he really covered all bases didn't he
Put the bombs in the bedroom as well
RIP Carlos' nice house
"I love you too" after I violently shoved you around today
Oh who needs a fucking fire department when you've got Owen fucking Strand right?
"Carlos" he says flatly. "How are you doing?" he asks in a monotone
"I should've had an extinguisher in the bedroom" DUDE NO ONE DOES
And if TK wanted one in there, he's the fucking firefighter, he should've checked when he moved in instead of assuming like a dumbass
God this show is dumb as fuck and I hate it so much
Billwen for the win
"just a couple of crap magnets" fucking a-men Judd
This show sucks
What the fuck
Is he dead?
I’m going to say one more thing about this T*rlos storyline - if they’d done this to Buck & Eddie in the OG, I’d be fucking devastated. Like... if Buck or Eddie pushed the other around the way TK pushed Carlos around, I’d be absolutely gutted. It’s really horrible that they went down that path - whether it’s OOC or not, and you can probably argue that it is - they shouldn’t have included the scene like that in the show. 
It just raises a whole slew of questions, like... is TK violent? Is Carlos used to being pushed around in relationships? Is the show saying that it’s okay that they got a little physical because they’re both men? Domestic violence is never okay, and this is kind of... saying that it is, in certain circumstances?
That is problematic as fuck and such bad writing.
These two are in a relationship where they are living together and supposedly love each other, and this is how the writers choose to portray it? If you’re a T*rlos shipper and you’re upset about this episode, I get it. It’s really fucking terrible that they included that scene - and I would bet cold hard cash it’ll never be addressed again.
This is why LS is a bad show. It’s shitty writing. Shitty storylines. Characters who are interesting are shoved into the background and glossed over in favour of the male white characters. The OG doesn’t have this problem - for everyone complaining that Eddie hasn’t been featured as much this season (and yeah, I hate it too) - you can’t complain that the characters of colour don’t get equal screentime. 
With LS - it’s the Rob Lowe show, and everyone else is just in the background. And that’s why it’s so frustrating to watch - they have a great cast, and this could be a really good show, but it’s just not.
Do you think the LS writers patted themselves on the back after this arc and were like, "yeah we nailed it, we're amazing?"
This episode is -1,000000/10. This show should be cancelled.
Two god awful miserable fucking episodes to go.
Diaz to cleanse:
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22 notes · View notes
timextoxhajima · 28 days ago
Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 4 - The Guest
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Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon
Genre: angsty wangsty
Taglist: @sunwoowuvbot @hyunjaethereal​​​
“Get the guest out of my fucking office.”
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Jang Won grimly knocks on the door, looking down to ensure Younghoon was carrying more than a fruit basket - a briefcase, worth half a million in cash, in case she needed to bribe a certain someone. Her eyes befall the apple sitting in the fruit basket, and she peels apart the wrapper to remove the bruised item, mindlessly hurling it into the trash can right by the lift. 
The door clicks open, the sound of the door chain reminding her that she needs to handle this one with care and caution.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hi Mrs Nam, I’m Kim Jang Won and this is--”
“I know who you are. I’m asking what you’re here for.”
“Straight to the point I see,” Jang Won cocks a brow. “Look, we don’t want to make things difficult for you, but we’d just like to find out if you happened to know anything about the body swap regarding your husband.”
Mrs Nam’s breathing gets stuck in her throat. She swallows, eyes flitting back and forth between Jang Won and Younghoon. 
“I know nothing. After he died, I visit him every month. I didn’t even know his body was moved until the news.”
Jang Won feels like she’s being strangled, all her nerves shutting down one by one like a tidal surge through her. But Younghoon tugs on the end of her blazer, out of sight, and shifts to talk to Mrs Nam instead.
“Do you mind if we come in and have a chat about it? We’d just like to know more about Mr Nam so we can figure out who did it. Don’t you at least want to know who shifted your husband’s body?”
A hint of curiosity and anger flickers in her eyes despite the slight hesitation. Mrs Nam subtly nods, head looking down but gaze still stuck to Younghoon as she gently closes the door.
“You don’t have to be in there if you don’t want to,” He murmurs, loud enough for her to hear while watching her in the corner of his eyes. 
Jang Won sniffles, finger rubbing the tip of her nose as she composes herself. The jingle of the chain being removed sounds through the door. 
“I’ll be in there because I want to, not because I can.”
The door clicks open, and Mrs Nam keeps it wide for Jang Won and Younghoon to enter. The apartment is rather neat and simple - a couple of single sofa seats around a circular table and a standing television. Pictures on the shelves framing the television. 
Drawn to the pictures first, Jang Won wanders to the photographs. 
A son, older than Younghoon, stands in most of the pictures. A degree in culinary sciences. A picture shot in Paris. Multiple pictures in Europe. A family portrait of him and his wife, Caucasian. 
Younghoon sits opposite Mrs Nam, who looks more tired and drained than anything else, like the anger from before has completely dissipated.
He glances through the pictures, aware that something must’ve caught his sister’s attention because Jang Won wasn’t being very focused now. “We just wanted to know more about him. He might’ve worked at Artemis and I’ve yet to check with his ex-colleagues but I just wanted to know if he was happy there, or if he wasn’t, did he have any... enemies?”
Mrs Nam takes in a deep breath, rubbing an eye before her hands come together on her lap. “No, he was happy, as far as I knew. The only thing he was upset about was my son moving to France and settling there. But otherwise, he was easy-going. Kind. Helpful. I can’t think of anybody who would want to deliberately shift his... body... because he had offended them.”
“I hate to be the one to suggest this but could your father have done anything to anger your son... to the point where--”
“No,” She says with such resolution, it finally tears Jang Won’s attention off the photos. “Never. Their love might’ve been tough but they’ll never do anything to hurt each other.”
Younghoon glances at his sister before returning to Mrs Nam. “So... nobody, huh?”
“None that I can think of.”
Jang Won blinks her emotions away, fingers fiddling with her rings as she looks to Younghoon. His eyes sink to the floor, licking his lips in slight anxiety as he realises they’ve hit a dead end. 
They leave the apartment with only the briefcase, and Mrs Nam closes the door before they can even walk off. The lift ride was exceptionally quiet, Younghoon merely watching Jang Won zip in and out of reality in the reflection of the lift mirrors. 
He looks over, watching the layer of tears thicken over her eyes. Reaching out and rubbing her shoulder, he contains the emotions he’s feeling, just by watching his cold-hearted sister reveal the hint of humanity in her. 
“I told you not to go in if you couldn’t.”
“And I could,” Jang Won clears her throat. “I don’t need you to baby me. It’s been a long time anyway. I’ll deal with it.”
The lift door dings open, and sees Jang Won walking out the doors, leaving Younghoon behind as she struts off. 
Unfortunately, this soft side of Jang Won remains short-lived, for Younghoon finds himself holding her back from tearing the skin off their father’s face when they reach home. 
“What the Hell is this?” Jang Won frowns, facial lines deepening in her skin when the staff is crowded in her office but none of them were moving. Her father, standing by her desk, looks up from the loaded query. 
“Ah, child! I was just waiting to--”
“Are you... moving into my office?”
Her father opens his mouth, lips wide enough for her to see her teeth when Mr Ro finally joins the party. 
“What is going on here?”
“Sir,” One of the housemaids lowers her head, almost like she was embarrassed. “Our guest-- Mr Kim... asked for us to help shift Miss Kim’s belongings out of her office. We were told not to tell you.”
Jang Won’s eyes almost double in size when she processes the words, the tips of her feet already turning to her father. Mr Ro looks up from his subordinate with distaste and disapproval, unable to believe the things he was trying to accomplish. 
“Just which part of June did you not fucking understand? Huh?” Jang Won takes one step forward, but Younghoon grabs her wrist and then wraps his palms around her upper arms. “Playing possum killed your braincells too?”
“No...! No! I wanted things to be early, smooth. So that you wouldn’t be pressured to shift out in June--”
“Bold of you to assume you’ll get it in June!” She hisses, harshly ripping herself out from Younghoon’s grip. “From now on you are a guest and a guest only. This is my house and you will touch nothing that does not belong to you.”
“Aw, come on, daughter--”
“Don’t--” She seethes, finger almost at his nose now. “Call me that. From now on, we just share the same surname... But if you want mercy on the account that I am something you created, then I’d rather you wait until I die.”
The staff in the room lower their head as she storms by them toward the door, and as dramatic as she is, she pulls the doors open and smiles widely at her staff. “A kind, kind reminder that all these people standing before you, Mr Kim Jo-Pil... they work for me. They answer to Mr Ro, and Mr Ro answers to me. So, shall you require any assistance in possibly fucking something else up... do get it to me through Mr Ro.”
She smiles sweetly, tilting her head to the side. “Now, get the guest out of my fucking office.”
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The wind brushes through Juyeon’s hair relentlessly, his dark blue, almost black, locks ruffled and made messy in the wind. The yacht makes small jumps against the water, the sun reflected off the surface of the water and into his eyes, the motion of the vehicle spraying some of it onto his hands that were over the railing. 
“Are you sure you want to get yourself involved in this... Jang Won and The Board, I mean,” Sunwoo joins Juyeon by the cockpit, grabbing a bottle of Sprite and cracking the cap open. He takes a sip and smacks his lips, letting the wind do its job in his hair too. “I mean, I know it wasn’t your choice but... that stunt at the press conference last week? Damn, son.”
Juyeon smirks and scoffs, looking at Sunwoo through the lens of his sunglasses. “Maybe it was fueled by her, I don’t know... But I’d be lying if I said being at the same table with her doesn’t make me feel powerful. It feels like I could do anything I wanted as long as she was by my side and it’d... it’ll work, you know?”
“‘It’ll work’?” Sunwoo chuckles sarcastically. “You’re talking about the most powerful figure of The Board of your generation. Hell, it’s Hera’s Princess you’re dealing with here. I’m sure if you played by her rules a hundred percent, she’d buy you an island if you wanted.”
The continuous splash of the water just a few metres down the railing brings some kind of peace to Juyeon, despite the idea of being married to Kim Jang Won being tasteless.
“What about her brother? The Prince of Artemis, right? Kim Younghoon. He must’ve had something to say about Apple-Korea’s next director smooching his little sister on national TV,” Sunwoo snorts, taking another gulp of his drink. 
Juyeon shakes his head, apart from providing Sunwoo a patient smile. “I haven’t met her brother, actually. But word has it he’s the calmer of the two, which I’m actually pretty grateful for.”
“Maybe you should get acquainted with him. Get on Kim Jang Won’s good side by making friends with Kim Younghoon,” Sunwoo places the bottle back into the ice box, noticing the yacht slowing down to a halt. Juyeon peels himself off the railings, finally standing and giving his own limbs a big stretch. 
“Nah,” Juyeon shakes his head and pulls off his sunglasses, squinting away from the harsh sunlight. “The thing about Jang Won is that you shouldn’t indirectly find ways to get on her good side... you gotta do it in her face. That’s how she plays her games. Straightforward. Ruthless.”
“So like... borderline crazy and a control freak too, right?”
Juyeon snickers, pulling off his shirt to reveal the diving suit he’s got underneath. “Pretty sure if your dad came back from the dead and took over your life’s work, you would too.”
Sunwoo smirks, stripping the pieces of clothes off himself too. “Defending the missus already, I see.”
Rolling his eyes and pulling on an oxygen tank with a mask, Juyeon then glares at the younger. “Well, if she’s offering me all the cents I can count, I might as well work it to my best effort, right?”
He cocks a smug brow, giving his goggles one last adjustment before heading to the edge of the yacht. The hues of blue calm his nerves, already able to see the world of life beneath the surface. It has always been his paradise, and always will be.
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“Today, we celebrate the love between two of The Board’s most powerful figures: Lee Juyeon, the next director of Apple-Korea, and The Board’s very own Hera’s Princess, Kim Jang Won. Just a last month, the return of Kim Jo-Pil shocked the country...”
Jang Won dips her finger into the glass of lemon-infused water, contorting the image of the television beyond the table and the space of the room. Still in her pajamas, she cannot find the motivation and strength to leave her bed. She can already hear the crowd bustling downstairs, getting ready for her hair, makeup, fittings--
Knock knock
“Oh, Mr Ro,” She covers her eyes, tired. The door clicks open and she groans to herself, refusing to open her eyes. “Please just kill me. I hate it. I hate all of this. Why did he have to climb out of his own grave?”
“I don’t know. His body was swapped, wasn’t it?”
The voice jolts Jang Won out of her laziness, and she sits up like she had been summoned from the dead too. 
“When did you get here?” 
Juyeon smiles, somewhat genuine, and leans against the door frame. He was already in a simple button up shirt, meant to be hidden under a gorgeous, white and silver blazer. His hair’s still wet though, his fringe covering his eyebrows and some portion of his eyes. 
Jang Won can’t help but soften at the sight of him half a foot into his room - if only Lee Juyeon knew how much her friends back in high school swooned over him. 
“Also, I don’t think killing you would be a great idea. Wouldn’t want to see you climb out of your own grave too. Family traits seem to run in the blood of the Kims.”
Jang Won rolls her eyes and crawls her way out of the bed that’s too big for her, feet finding her fluffy, cotton slippers by the bed and shuffling about the bedroom with her hair in a mess. 
“Not very good at answering questions, are you?” She sniffles, not bothering to close the bathroom door behind her as she ties her hair gracefully, pulling a hair towel over her head to keep her fringe out of her face. She hears the door click, and Juyeon appears behind her in the reflection of the mirror. 
The scent of mint from the toothpaste wafts through her nose. 
“Well,” He shrugs and leans against the doorframe again, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “I answered yours.”
Jang Won chokes on the toothpaste foam, gripping the edges of the sink as she retches into the marble. “Your butler... Mr Ro, called me over. Offered to cover my fitting and everything for today. He said it’s on the house, or rather, yours, I suppose.”
Jang Won finishes up on her brushing, spitting out the leftover foam. “Still didn’t answer my question, y’know.”
Juyeon removes himself off the doorframe, watching her struggle by throwing her hair behind her shoulder. Some locks keep sliding back down around her neck, and her hands are already lathering some facial wash. She tuts in frustration, unable to get her hair out of the way.
Then Juyeon gently gathers her hair behind her neck, his warm fingers barely brushing against her skin. “Morning. Just about two hours ago,” He waits for Jang Won to squint at him, before she provides enough trust to shut her eyes and rub the lotion into her cheeks. 
“Mr Ro wanted to come wake you up, but something seemed to crop up with the tea and cake catering, so.”
“What? What’s wrong with the tea and cake catering? I paid good money for that bullshit,” She looks up from the sink, face smeared in some greenish-blue cream.
He grins, chuckling under his breath as she glares at him in the mirror. “Paying good money for ‘bullshit’, huh? How much did the ‘bullshit’ cost then?”
“Well,” She hesitates and frowns, creating lines in the lotion on her face. “Enough to piss me off if they don’t give me what I want.”
Leaning towards the sink, she runs her hands under the water and washes the lotion off her face.
“What company is the catering from? Need my help?”
She scoffs, waving his hand off her hair, grabbing a cotton towel and pressing it to her face. “To what? What are you gonna do? ‘Hey there, I’m the next director of Apple-Korea and I’d like my tarts and cupcakes this afternoon’.”
He leans his rear into the edge of the platform where the sink was built into, back facing the mirror while she carefully hangs the towel over the metal bar mounted into the beige marble wall. “What else would you want me to say, since that’s just exactly what I want?”
“I’on’t know, buy the company or something.”
He raises both brows in extreme shock, his lips pouting in disbelief that he should’ve been prepared for anyway. “What a solution.”
“Got a better idea?” She rolls her eyes, pulling a robe into the shower cubicle. “Also, are you going to stand there and watch me strip?”
Juyeon’s eyes flit off her instantly, hands pushing himself off the edge of the sink. “Could’ve just asked me to leave instead of being so crude.”
“Well now, I didn’t ask you to leave, I asked--”
“I know- I know what you asked-” Juyeon grimaces, blowing some air into the pockets between his teeth and lips. He sucks in a deep breath and exhales loudly through an ‘o’, giving Jang Won some kind of sadistic pleasure. “Do you ever get tired of that? Messing with people?”
Jang Won’s brown orbs rise to the ceiling, actually giving thought to the question. Her lower lip juts out as she shrugs. “Well... yeah. Yeah,” She finally nods. “But hey! I have different degrees of messing-with-people. There’s the I-kinda-wanna-mess-with-you-by-making-you-awkward kind and there’s the I-might-wanna-rebury-my-dad kind-”
“Alright, you have a nice bath.” 
Snorting, Juyeon waves her nonsense off and walks out the bathroom, sliding the door shut. 
17 notes · View notes
starknik22 · 29 days ago
They Call It ‘Puppy Love’ [P.P]
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Summary: Peter has an adorable accident in the lab; resulting in his new irresistible look.
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: Sexual innuendos, swearing, one mention of nudes, one mention of a dog boner (yeah i have no idea tbh), it’s mostly just fluffy fluff :)
a/n: this was requested by multiple people, but i am an idiot and already deleted the asks. but! if you requested this trope, i hope you enjoy! i can 100% see peter as a cute little teddy bear puppy :)) no need to, but reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! sometimes it take me a while to respond, but i promise i read all the comments and reblogs. enjoy!
“Fine!” Bruce yelled, whipping around to face the boy bouncing on his feet behind him, “you can use the big lab, just don’t—like touch anything.”
“But I need to touch things if I’m going to make a lightsaber—” Peter pointed out.
“Don’t touch my important things.” Bruce clarified, “Now go before I change my mind.”
“Yes sir!” Peter cheered before running off to the elevators.
Your birthday was coming up, and you always expressed how badly you wanted real lightsabers. The ‘take your face off’ kind, not the kid-proof holographic ones your dad made you last year. And Peter being the best ‘friend-zoned, but wanting to be more so he’ll get you gifts to impress you’ friend there is, decided to make some, but the lab Tony gifted him for his birthday last year was too small, and he accidentally blew it up. So, after some heavy convincing and a few light threats, Bruce gave him the keycard to the main lab.
When Peter entered, he immediately set to work on what chemicals he would need to reach the desired effect of ‘melt your face off’, as you so diplomatically described it. In the end, he went with a mixture of acids and a heavy base to counteract any burns he might accidentally get from this procedure.
He worked for nearly four hours non-stop on the handle and the controls. When he finally decided to take a break, he reached over to the desk to grab his glass of water. However, as soon as the liquid hit his lips, it tasted a lot more like… juice? He didn't get to ponder it much longer though when he was suddenly knocked out cold.
“Tony!” Bruce chased after the suited man, “I swear the kid told me he had those pictures of me! If those get leaked—”
“Then it’ll be hilarious.” Tony laughed, recalling the one Christmas party Bruce hulked-out… in the bedroom.
“That’s so embarrassing,” Bruce whined, “make him delete them.”
“I’ll do you one better,” Tony said as the two walked to the lab, “I’ll have the kid send them to me and then he can delete them.”
“How’s that any better?!”
“I’m way more technologically efficient than that kid. I'm pretty sure he sent his nudes by accident once, but I couldn’t tell ‘cus it was blurry.”
Bruce scowled in disgust at the thought, “Whatever, just go make him delete—”
The two were interrupted by yipping and yapping coming from behind the glass doors, the sound of muffled scratching filling their ears.
Bruce’s eyes widened, “Shit! My puppy potion!”
“You’re what?”
“I made a potion to turn me into a puppy because I wanted to see what it would be like to be a dog.”
“That’s kinda fucked up, I think?” Tony said, finally opening the door, only for the two to be met with papers thrown around everywhere, chewed-up cords, and a pile of poop in the corner.
“Aw, shit.” Tony frowned, seeing the mess. “Well, where’s the—”
He was cut off by a ball of brown fluff hurling towards him. He caught the puppy, well um—he caught Peter, just as he began to lick and nip at Tony’s nose.
“Gah! Stop licking me!” He groaned in disgust.
“Aw, shit, he’s really cute.” Bruce frowned, “Now I have to go make more.”
“How long does this last?” Tony ignored Bruce’s pouting, focusing on the ball of energy wiggling around in his grasp.
“I’m not sure…” Bruce mumbled, “somewhere between 3 and 48 hours, or more.”
“That gives me absolutely no more information than what I began with.” Tony deadpanned.
Peter whimpered in Tony’s hands, “Can he understand us?” Before Bruce could respond, Peter yipped again.
“Hm, okay then.” Tony said, placing the puppy under his arm, securely holding him in his armpit, “Well, (Y/N) always did want a puppy.”
Peter began panting and licking Tony again, liking the idea of getting to hang out with you, especially now that he was irresistible.
“Um, maybe don’t tell her that it’s Peter,” Bruce warned, “she’s pretty overprotective of the kid and I’m worried that she also has those pictures from last Christmas.”
Tony nodded and proceeded to make his way to your room.
“Happy early birthday!” Tony yelled as he entered your bedroom with Peter under his arm. On his way up to your room, he stuck a bow on Peter’s head, much to his distaste, and looked the boy—puppy—in the eyes and said, ‘if you don’t behave, I’ll take you to the pound and leave you there until this shit wears off.’ Peter wagged his tail and licked Tony’s nose again.
“A puppy?!” You squealed, rushing over to the teddy bear-looking puppy tucked under your father’s arm. “For me?”
“Yup! All yours! This was definitely a preplanned thing.” Tony nodded as you pulled the puppy from his arms. “Now take extra good care of him, alright? And don’t undress in front of him. I heard that it traumatizes them.” Tony said, looking more sternly at the puppy in your arms than at you.
“Okay, thank you, dad!” You gave your father a kiss on the cheek, “I love you.”
“Mhm, I love you too and all that jazz. Bye-bye now.” Tony hummed, making a swift exit out of the room, leaving you to spend some time with your new puppy alone.
“Aw! You are just the cutest!” You chirped, rubbing your nose with Peter's small black one, “I’m gonna call you Chummy.”
Peter barked in protest to the ridiculous name, but you just cooed some more at him. “Aww, you like that name, don’t you?” You giggled as Peter barked again.
You set Peter back on the ground and began to walk away. “Okay, I’m going to get changed, then we can go to the park!” You called as you walked to the closet.
Peter took this opportunity to snoop around in your room. He was way shorter than he was before now though, so he could only really look on the ground and under your bed. He found some dirty socks, an old science textbook, a box of letters labeled ‘secret secrets’, a phone charger—wait! Secrets? About what? You told each other everything. Peter unintentionally whined at the thought of you keeping secrets from him, at least ones bad enough that they had to be kept in a box labeled ‘secret secrets’.
“Aw, come out of there, little guy.” You hummed, pulling Peter out from under the bed by his little hind legs. “Come here, cutie patootie. Whatcha lookin’ at?” You reached under the bed and grabbed the box full of secrets yourself. “Oh, this? Wanna see what's inside?”
Peter yapped and howled as loud as he could. He wanted to see what secrets were so crazy that they needed to be hidden in a box, away from him.
“Okay, fine.” You chuckled, opening the box. Inside were love letters, all written in neat cursive. Every ‘i’ was dotted with a heart and they had little pink heart stickers next to your name at the bottom.
“These are letters I wrote for my friend Peter. I would never give them to him, but sometimes he does something really cute and it makes me want to tell him how I feel. But, I’m pretty sure he likes MJ.” You frowned, “Even if he didn’t though, I wouldn’t want to mess up our friendship.”
You set Peter on the bed and began pulling out letters, “This one is from last Christmas. Somehow he got a hold of pictures of my uncle Bruce hulking-out during his bedroom time, and we spent the entire night laughing at the pictures. We even put them in a secure file labeled ‘Black Mail’.” You laughed at the memory, “He’s always my go-to for funny shit like that.”
Peter nudged your hand away so he could read the note for himself. Your hand hardly moved, but he did get the line ‘You always manage to put a smile on my face, even when you aren’t in the room; just thinking about you makes me smile.’
Peter wagged his tail happily at the note. Jumping up in your lap and licking your cheeks. “Stop,” you giggled, holding the puppy away from your face, “come on, let’s go to the dog park.”
Once you got to the dog park, you let Peter off of the leash and he immediately began wandering around the grass and sniffing other dogs. He was disgusted with himself for sniffing other dogs’ butts, but he couldn't help himself. Some primal instinct told him he needed to sniff all the other dogs and then pee on every tree to gain land. When he realized that you were watching him use the bathroom, he unintentionally whimpered in embarrassment.
You threw some balls for him, but his stubby puppy legs couldn’t get him to them in time to catch them, and then his stubby legs had to run the ball back to you. No matter how much he hated the game, he still went after the ball. It was exhausting.
“Hey, (Y/N)!” Someone called from behind you. You turned around to see May, holding a little Yorkshire Terrier.
“Hi, May!” You waved as she made her way over. “Did you guys get a dog?”
“No,” May sighed, “our apartment doesn’t allow them. I’m just watching little Mitski here for my coworker since she got called into work last minute.”
“Aw, she’s so cute.” You cooed, petting the little dog around the ears.
“Did you get a dog?” May asked, looking out into the yard, trying to see which dog you were going to point at.
“Yeah, just today actually.” You smiled, pointing at the little brown dog running around in circles, chasing his own tail.
“Aw, so cute, what’s its name?”
“Chummy.” You giggled, “I think it’s cute when dogs have terrible names.”
May laughed along, watching Peter chase his own tail and stumble over his own legs. Peter was really struggling. If he thought just having spidey sense was bad, having spidey sense and doggy sense was hell. He could smell everything. And he was curious about all the new smells too, even if it was something stupid like a piece of bubble gum stuck to a jogger’s shoe.
“He’s so clumsy, it's cute.” you gushed, watching Peter unintentionally fall into a hole made by one of the bigger dogs.
“I’m gonna get a picture of this. Peter would love this little guy.” May smiled, pulling out her phone.
“Where is Peter anyways?” You asked. Peter usually came by the Tower around 9 a.m. to get started on lab work and suit designs, but it was already almost noon, and you still hadn’t seen him.
“I thought he was at the tower with you?” May questioned.
“Could be, I guess. He’s probably just stuck in the lab.” You shrugged.
Just as you were about to say something, your phone went off. The classic tune of Back in Black by AC/DC running out from your pocket.
“Sorry, it’s my dad. I gotta take this.” You smiled apologetically, “It was nice seeing you, May.”
“You too, sweetie. Come by soon!” May waved as she walked away.
“Hello?” You said as you answered the phone.
“(Y/N), where are you? You’re still at the Tower, right?” Your dad panicked on the other line.
“No, I went to the dog park.”
“Come home right now.” Tony spoke harshly on the other end, “It’s uh—it’s not good for puppies to be exposed to too much too soon, especially in New York.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that.” You frowned, “Okay then, be home in 10.”
As soon as you entered the Tower from the parking garage, Tony was on you like a hawk.
“Hey, kid! How was the park? Fun? That’s great! Where’s the puppy?” Tony asked, grabbing your shoulders and moving you around to look behind you where Peter was happily waddling along, barking whenever his own tail would cross his line of sight. “Oh! There he is, look at that! How cute. Okay, well, I have some work to do, bye-bye!”
And just as quickly as he arrived, Tony left up the elevator once again.
You picked Peter up and kissed his little puppy head. Peter licked your cheeks in return.
“He’s so silly,” You giggled, “come on, let’s go get something for lunch.”
Peter yipped happily in response. He hadn’t eaten since last night, and being a puppy for over four hours is hard work! His little body could only take so much playtime. Now, all he wanted was a nice deli sandwich from Delmars or maybe even the leftover pad thai you guys had last night. At this point, he’d settle for anything. That was until you placed an expired can of watery dog food in front of him.
 Peter whined at the goopy mess. “Sorry, Chummy, that’s the only dog food in the Tower.” You shrugged.
Peter rolled over on his belly and began whining loudly. There was no way—no matter how hungry he was—he would eat expired dog food. He’d rather just starve.
You walked away from the overly dramatic puppy, whose antics actually reminded you a lot of Peter, considering that one time he whined and groaned when May gave him a tangerine fruit cup for lunch rather than a mixed fruit cocktail one. Eventually, you just left the lunch table, went to the cafeteria line, and got him a new fruit cup.
You walked into the kitchen and pulled your leftover pad thai from the fridge, beginning to heat it up in the microwave. Peter barked loudly when he saw the styrofoam takeout container.
“No,” You admonished, “this is people food. That’s your food.”  The beeping of the microwave halted Peter’s barking, but the delicious smell of Thai cuisine filled his nostrils and he was yipping again, begging for a taste.
“Okay, fine.” You smiled, “Just a few pieces of chicken.”  You grabbed the chicken into your fork and Peter began doing circles happily. He was about to jump up on your legs and take the chicken from the fork himself, but then you did the unthinkable. You threw the warm chicken at his face. The chicken hit him in the nose and bounced onto the floor, ruined.
Peter whined loudly, wanting a piece of chicken that hadn’t been all over the dirty tower floor.
“Look, your chickens right here, silly boy.” You said, pushing the fallen piece of food towards him with your foot. Peter just stared at the piece of meat and began weighing out his options. If he ate the chicken, it’d be all gross and it probably has dirt all over it. But he was so hungry. His Spider-man stamina always made him hungry, but that, on top of being a little ball of energy, he was starving.
Finally, he conceded and ate the piece of chicken you left on the ground for him, gagging the whole time. Yet he still begged for more, and every piece you gave him always ended up on the floor before he could catch it. By the time he finished, he felt gross and all he wanted to do was lay down and maybe throw up.
When you finished eating, you scooped a woozy Peter up and carried him to your room to take a nap. The letters were still strewn about on your bed, so you gathered them up and put them back in the box. Peter was desperate for his time as a puppy to be over. He couldn’t wait to turn back into himself so he could tell you how much he loves you.
“Okay, nap-time!” You said enthusiastically, placing Peter on the bed next to you. You stripped from your jeans and took off your bra, leaving you in only a t-shirt and panties.
Peter scrambled to get out of the bed, not wanting to cuddle with you in this little of clothing, especially as a puppy. His innocent little brain wasn’t ready for this; he also didn’t know if dogs could get boners and he wasn’t prepared to find out. But you grabbed his squirming little body and held him close to your chest, as you laid on your back. You placed him on top of your breasts and kissed his little head.
“Shhh, go to sleep now.” You hummed. You felt so warm and your arms made him feel so safe. No matter how hard he fought, the lull of sleep was too strong.
You curled up in Peter’s warm embrace, humming contently. Peter woke up five or so minutes ago. The first thing he noticed was that he was, in fact, human again. He was also completely naked. But you weren’t awake yet and he just wanted to hold you for a moment before he snuck out.
He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, promising himself he’d come back later and tell you everything, including how he feels. However, you started stirring in his arms and before he could properly react, your eyes were opening and the hazy view of the brown-eyed boy in front of you was beginning to focus.
“AH!” You screamed, punching him in the nose and pushing him off the bed, unfortunately seeing a bit of his package in the process. “Peter?! What the fuck are you doing in here?!”
“I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry! It’s not my fault, though! It was all Dr. Banner!” Peter yelled, frantically scrambling to his feet, momentarily forgetting about his lack of clothes. Your second scream and the covering of your eyes painfully reminded him. He quickly grabbed the comforter and covered his built-in web shooter.
“Bruce?” You asked, incredulously. “What the fuck does Bruce have to do with this?”
“Okay, that wasn’t a great explanation, but I can explain!” Peter assured, moving to sit back on the bed.
“Go get dressed first!” You yelled, scooting away from him.
“Right.” He nodded, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red, “Uh, just—I’ll be right back.” He said as he scrambled butt-naked out of the room. The sound of Wanda screaming in the hallway being heard as he sprinted down to his room.
Wanda peeked her head into your opened door, “Walk of shame, eh?” She said, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
“No!” You groaned, flipping her off as she laughed. “Get out!”
“Um,” Peter knocked on the door to your room, “can I come in?”
“Do you have clothes on?
“Yes.” Peter groaned, his face still tinged pink with embarrassment.
“Okay, you can come in.” Peter opened the door to find you almost exactly how he left you, with the only difference being the grey sweatpants you now wore.
“Okay, so,” He began, sitting on the bed next to you. “Um—well, it’s a pretty funny story when you think about it.” He forced out a laugh, but your face remained unamused and he ceased his forced chuckle. “So, I was in the lab working and Bruce left this potion he made on the table—”
“So you drank it?” You looked at Peter like he was crazy.
“Well, yeah, but not on purpose.” He defended, “I thought I was grabbing my water. And it made me all woozy and I guess I fell asleep because when I woke up again it was all short and hairy. I didn’t know I was a puppy until your dad found me.”
Peter paused to gauge your reaction. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you were frowning, obviously skeptical of his tale.
“So then,” he continued, “Your dad gave me to you so he wouldn’t have to watch me.”
“Why didn’t he just change you back? And why couldn’t he just tell me it was you?” You asked.
“Bruce told him that it would wear off on its own and Bruce also said that he didn’t want you to know because he was worried you’d release those pictures of him from last Christmas as punishment for turning me into a puppy,” Peter explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish you would’ve known it was me though.” He laughed, “Then maybe you wouldn’t have fed me chicken off the floor and expired dog food.”
You laughed at that, “No, I still would have fed you that,” You joked.
Peter smiled at you, “I’m sorry I woke up naked in your bed.”
“I’m sorry I punched you in the face.”
You in Peter sat in awkward silence for a moment. You must’ve forgotten that he’d seen those letters and that you basically confessed your love for him to him, so he had to make the dreaded plunge of mentioning it to you.
“So, um,” He started, hesitantly, “when I was a puppy, I also saw those—”
“Ugh,” You groaned, “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”
“It’s embarrassing.” You mumbled, “I probably look like a freak or a stalker or something.”
“It’s not embarrassing.” Peter smiled at you, “I think it’s adorable. I’d actually like to read more of them, y’know, since they’re technically for me.”
“Stop,” you groaned, playfully pushing him away, “it’s weird.”
“It’s not,” He promised, “I really like you too, (Y/N). I just didn’t really know how to tell you.” Peter took your hand in his, “but I was going to tell you, somehow.”
“Yeah, I guess we kinda should date now then.” You smiled, “Y’know, since I’ve seen your web shooter and everything.” You raised your eyebrows at Peter as he groaned in embarrassment.
“That is not how I wanted that to go.”
“No, no,” You chuckled, kissing his cheek, “I liked it. After I stopped screaming and the trauma went away, I realized that it was really pretty.”
“Gee thanks,” Peter said sarcastically.
You grabbed his face by his cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to his nose, “You’re very welcome, my little Chummy.”
❀tags & moots❀  @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @ptersmj @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @thirstiestpotato @kelieah @iovebug @waitimcomingtoo @rosyparkers @parkers-gal @allegra-writes @starktonyx @felicityparkers @hollandcrush @londonspidey @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spidey-sophie @spideyspeaches @peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @asonofpeter​ @romanovacane​ @arlo-sanders​ @love-peterparker​ @boiolay​ @letssee2468​ @white-wolf1940
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bluebirdzykaysies · 29 days ago
5.14 - day before momma leaves
Goddamnit I hate to admit it but I’m already thinking and crying like a baby in my head once my mom leaves me to go back home to sf. the feeling is mutual like melissa said cause she’ll probably be just as a wreck and all this time I’ve been spending with her, I’m cherishing even more. I’ve never felt like this and Victoria said the same thing; expecting that while I transition. But everyone needs to experience this. I DO, especially. I need the time away for a bit to miss them and I already miss those interactions with my brothers too of just lounging in the living room watching NBA games all night, or youtube videos like its judyslife or ustheduo.
Our lives have changed already and itll be so hard as I am bawling my eyes out, sitting in my newly mounted dining table my mom and I put together, facing outwards my window with the Chicago sun, beaming through at a whopping 54 degrees.
This is my life now, I will be on my own and making decisions on my own. Ive told a few folks that I’m sad yet annoyed my moms time here was a bit much. But I know it was perfect for what it is. We’ve been tired each and everytime, her actions speak volumes and our conversations arent as deep as I want, but I know this quality time was one that will impact my life forever. Even though I hate to admit it or will say this to her face. i love my mom. so much, she means so much to me and my brothers. The amount of things she does unselfishly aka drive my freaking car with just her and hector for 5 days cross country. do what she did to make me help settle, there is no one like her. and I will forever appreciate her and love her.
She is opinionated and still felt like I couldnt decide for myself but this will be also a time where I speak up and use my voice. Saying NO.
ugh the tears keep falling down but some highlights from this past week were:
- Silly vlog videos that I actually may put together when I get the time
- 5/6; arrived - went to container store to buy my elfa shelving for my closet. Super nice lady that worked there Hector spoke to. Went to world market to check out their furniture and standing mirrors. TJ Maxx/HomeGoods and picked up some bathroom essentials, shower curtain, mats and beddings, Facetimed Yan/Ronz/Brent+Rick at night (10pm CST) 
Mom stayed with Hector at Courtyard Marriot til Saturday 5/8. So I wanted to stay at the apartment for the first time alone and enjoy the moment and soak it all in. Parking at my garage alone, randomly waking up to the SUNRISE at 545am and just being in awe of my new city... I could just cry
Didn’t get my wifi set up yet so the struggle was real a bit. The air mattress we got from costco has been tough to sleep on but eventually Ill get my mattress. Just have been torn with my furniture not being here since everything was rushed and happened so quickly. Learnings from the move thus far:
-Write a damn list, I DID NOT. Aka thats why a bunch of junk and unnecessary things were with my mom and hector in the car. All couldve been bought here. I ocouldve taken more clothes and shoes
-Alot of my clothes aka my favorite jean jacket and pink/mauve henley was left at home. My running shoes - I decided not to prioritize idk fucking why *rolls eyes* and alot of my other valuables. Brendan is nice enough to ship it. Its not worth to buy a RT flight and go there and take it all back with me... no. :( I would though tbh if I was in LA. lol make couple trips but I’m far enough that its like.... whewww is it worth but one day I will come back and visit. For now, its slated for Oct
5/7 Friday; I had it off started the day late at 12pm and booked my mom, hector and myself tickets to the skydeck. my mom was HILARIOUS, she was scared at first and thought it would be a huge platform to see under but once she saw its just a small piece of glass over 105 floors, it wasnt THAT bad. Her and hector are hilarious together and annoying a little LOL. but I guess they’re cute
Went to Wrigley Field while there was a game and that was an experience. Fans at the top of their houses, Security all over the block, streets closed, fans everywhere. Its such a historical building in the middle of a freaking neighborhood so it made itself unique vs att/oracle park being so secluded down in mission bay.
RPM Steak for dinner in River North. Valet’d the car and Hector treated us to a Missouri Steak? it was bomb though but I wanted Medium and he wanted medium rare... cream of spinach, mac and cheese, asparagus and for dessert topped with a Baked Alaskan. Whatever that is. (It was good) and my first time trying it.. me and mom. Our waitor was a nice lady in her 30s, gave me tori kelly vibes. Then another worker stopped by our table who looked filipino for sure (Rox’s ex Dennis look a like) but I already for got his name. He told us how he lived in West Town too and would eat at this bomb restaurant called “Uncle Mikes” maybe the ‘superstar’ of chicago :) hectors jokes were a bit much saying climbing up the coconut tree and asking if he can make halo halo in the back for dessert. No sir....
5/8 Saturday; Plan was to visit Macys downtown to check out furniture at around 930am. But they werent open til 11am. We checked out the Bean at Millenium Park and my mom got to see all the tulips and flowers. We waited in line for a while at Stans Donuts since Wildberry was just too WILD and packed, so we walked a block down and had ourselves some coffee and donuts for the day. After we headed to Macys and were greeted by a tall man name Hilary. he’s THEEE BEST. he knew we didnt have to buy anything from him at macys but he’s such a sales guy and has been in this business for so long that he kept tlaking about Quality of furniture and making yourself feel comfy and at home. Being in a small apt, or living out alone for the first time, separating each section once winter hits so you’re not bored out of your mind in the small place. He was so friendly and nice, I took his business card. Went to Ashley’s on the way to the airport and got gas. Feel in love with the small dinette table they had but the one I’m sitting on now I feel like is just perfect. Soletren couch will forever be out of stock and I will never let this go :( honestly dont know how itll fit in my door but i guess i will settle for something reasonable and decent in size
IVE BEEN SPENDING SO MUCH MONEY. . . . . . . I cant even. I got paid today so todays check will be sponsoring all of my credit card funds. Gna just pay it off in full so I dont have to deal with it. But going forward a budget will be set. and luckily some of the things I bought work can reimburse so I’ll do expenses sunday perhaps.
Saturday evening after dropping off hector, we did errands in the suburbs and went to a walmart. a bit ghetto lookin but its fine. Decided to go to costco after but had an incidentn with this white man who bumped my car and didnt apologize. I was going to say something but we’re so far out in the suburbs Idk what the hell he wouldve done to me. And if they’re racist out there. took the long way home and it was prob not through the safest neighbor hoods but my mom didnt have to know since traffic on the freeway was just ALOT. omg and the roads are just so bumpy, my poor car. Becca said she has a guy at a shop her family always goes to so hopefuully I wont need him but just nice to know the option is there.
Went to the costco up by roscoe village and bought food and more essentials like medicine i have a whole pharmacy.  again throughout all this, my mom is the MVP. I wouldve been like, Ill go get it when I need it vs mom stocking up beforehand. We ended up setting my living room with a japanese style seating using my elfa shelving as the table and a towel over it. Leftovers from RPM for dinner and ribs/salad from costco. (I keep eating, and we’re not walking alot so....... I’m def gaining wait and will need to lose this asap)
I’ll be back more to cover this past week; mothers day, ikea, seafood city, hanging with becca, azul mariscos, drunk at ross and dollar tree, pants falling (mom) unbuttoned pants cuz we’re so ‘stuffffffed’ hanging with the boys via facetime cause I do miss them :( I need to havea schedule with them.
kk toodles. time to go back to work. no more crying (maybe) then an architecture tour with my mom <3 and dinner at a steakhouse at MJ’s on Michigan Ave BYeeeee
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yamalegacy · a month ago
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[ prologue ]
SUMMARY: A new small group of villains is spreading chaos all over Japan and no hero agency seem to know what to do about them — they are perfectly organized, always manage to escape arrest, never cause any casualties and its members remain impossible to identify. All heroes can do is wait for them to strike again and hope that they will be able to capture them.
mirko x villain!female!oc
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Any place that made it impossible to avoid large crowds made it on her list of things that she found too obnoxious to deal with, though they often could be found of her ‘Places that cannot be avoided to lead a life worthy of a decently responsible adult’ list. Either way, she hated every entry on both those lists, as they brought nothing but misery to her antisocial existence.
Subway trains were among the worst of the worst. The overwhelming stench of sweat emanating from the man behind her and his bag digging into her ribs were not helping her enjoy the experience right now. At least that one was not one of the touchy kind who thought he could allow himself to feel her up and throw a shitty excuse along the lines of “Sorry, train’s packed”, which was no excuse at all, really.
Things only got worse at the next stop. Distracting herself by unlocking her phone and scrolling through social medias, she had not paid any attention to the new passengers who had stepped inside the train. When she felt something oddly warm and soft tickling her nose, it was too late.
Fluffy bunny ears. There was a pair of fluffy white bunny ears tickling her nose. Fucking obnoxious.
"Hey, bunny girl," she called, and the ears twitched at the sound, "could you keep your ears out of my face?"
"Fuck, sorry," the bunny girl said as she glanced above her shoulder. Sharp red eyes struggled to meet soft green ones — much higher than the little bunny seemed to have expected.
The taller woman blinked. Those red eyes and long lashes, those sharp features and that beautiful, seemingly flawless tan skin. She knew them. She had stared at the little Pro Hero figure discarded on her desk at home just before leaving for work that morning, and even if it had been hours, she hadn't forgotten. That Mirko was a lot prettier than a low quality figure had given her expectations for.
"I don't sign autographs when I'm not in costume," the bunny said after an uncomfortable moment of mutual silent staring.
"I don't want one."
The bunny turned her back to her again, a fluffy ear hitting her smack in the face, and she was certain that she had noticed a flustered blush on the pint-sized Pro Hero's cheeks. How cute. Heroes really were something else, with their out of proportions egos and inability to handle rejection. One more reason to her to loathe their very existence.
But well, that Mirko woman was cute when blushing. (At least it was a discreet blushing, not like her own overwhelming red flush that reached all the way to the tip of her ears whenever she got embarrassed, which thankfully only happened on rare occasions). Poor little bunny.
There was only a handful of stops left before she could step out of the train to walk the rest of the way home, get away from those fluffy ears still too close to her face, from all those people standing too close to one another. Too close to her. And she could not have been more grateful.
As the doors opened yet again, a crowd pushed inside the already packed train. Too much. She could feel too many people pressing against her body, an elbow jabbing her in the ribs as someone struggled to stay upright, a knee harshly bumping into her own. Her left hand cramped up immediately, pain spreading up her entire arm at the tension building inside her body, ready to boil over and explode at any moment.
Bad. It was bad. Real fucking bad.
She gritted her teeth, breath coming out in heavy, shallow puffs, and shut her eyes tightly to focus on keeping it together. Too much noise. It felt like her head was about to implode, threatened the pressure growing inside her skull. She needed to step out, to breathe—
Just before the doors could close again and seal her disastrous fate, strong, calloused fingers wrapped around her wrist and dragged her out, pushing through the crowd for her.
She heard the train leave the station, and before she could process anything else, she was sat on a small, uncomfortable bench. The first thing she saw was a pair of red eyes staring right back at her, as if to try and see through her, to read her thoughts.
Mirko, the Rabbit Hero (Was she really Mirko the Hero when she wasn't wearing her ridiculously revealing bodysuit?), was kneeling in front of her, looking at her with a slight frown, wrist still held tightly in her firm grip.
"You okay there? You look like you're gonna explode, or something."
There was a hint of teasing in the bunny girl's voice, and the woman found herself scoffing at the tone, at the words. She wasn't about to explode, but close enough, considering how messy things could get when her Quirk got overloaded. That bunny had definitely saved many lives without even realizing what she had done.
"I'm okay. Don't worry your pretty Pro Hero head over me."
Through shaky breathes and the pain invading her body, blood pumping against her eardrums, she almost couldn't recognize her own voice. Had she always sounded so pathetically weak? There was no way in hell her voice had always been so croaky... right?
"Aw, you think I'm pretty?" the bunny cooed. That teasing tone again. Though it was much more obvious this time.
But bunny girl wasn't looking at her face anymore, her gaze instead focused on her left arm — she stared for several seconds that seemed to drag on forever, before she started to press the pads of her thumbs roughly over the tensed muscles, massaging the pain away. Her fingers were calloused, but there was a level of knowledge in the way her thumbs moved up and down; it was genuinely helpful.
"You got some water in that bag of yours?" the bunny asked, throwing a quick glance at the messenger bag that had been discarded on the floor. When she nodded in response, Mirko reached for it with one hand, the other one still rubbing at her fingers, and easily took out the bottle, and held it between her thighs so that she could unscrew it open with only one hand. "Drink up. You need to stay hydrated. Cramping like that isn't normal, ya know."
Was that stupid Pro Hero genuinely worried about her health? She wanted to roll her eyes, to laugh, but she found herself unable to. So she grabbed her bottle and drank.
"It's just my Quirk acting up," she explained, unwilling to give the fluffy little Pro Hero more details. "It's not usually that bad, is all."
The bunny girl's hands moved up from her fingers, to her wrist, to her forearm, applying pressure with her thumbs. A shiver ran up the woman's arm as a finger found its way just under the material of her rolled up sleeve. She should have put an end to it, moved her arm away from that hero's grip — but it actually helped, eased the pain of the cramps, made the dangerous tension recede and quiet down to a whisper.
"Why are you doing this?"
Mirko frowned.
"You could have just ignored me. Everyone else on that train ignored me."
The bunny girl shook her head.
"There should always be someone willing to help. And just ‘cause I'm not wearing my costume, it doesn't mean I don't wanna help others, right?" Mirko smirked. "And my face was right into that dude's smelly armpit. Good excuse to get outta there, ya know."
The woman wanted to laugh, but, still struggling to catch her breath, she just coughed instead. She noticed then that Mirko had retrieved her hands now, that the massaging had stopped. She almost missed the warm contact, the way it so effortlessly eased the pain that had been building up for months now.
"What are you? Eighty and retired?"
"Do all heroes insult the citizens they are supposed to serve and protect?"
"I sure as hell do!"
The Pro Hero was grinning, her teeth pearly white — a pretty smile, no matter if it was overflowing with too much confidence and cockiness.
"Think you can get up?"
At the bunny girl's question, she merely nodded, still unsure. The pain had eased, but it had not left. It coursed through her veins, ever present. She knew that she needed to do something about her Quirk soon, or things would not go as smoothly next time she would feel that pressure inside her body again. There wouldn't always be a stranger in a train willing to help her. Bossman really needed to hurry the hell up.
She watched as the bunny got back up from her kneeling position and extended a hand towards her. She took it and allowed herself to be hoisted up from the bench. And, before she could try to reach down for her bag, the bunny had already grabbed it for her, going as far as hanging it over her shoulder.
“Be good and take better care of yourself, doll face, ‘kay?”
She scoffed at the comment and shook her head. Being lectured by a Pro Hero known to be reckless — she only knew that Mirko was reckless because she had done some research after (accidentally) acquiring the stupid little figure — was a new low in her life.
“There won’t always be a hot stranger in the train to help you.”
The sentence was punctuated with a wink. The only reaction that she could give the hero was a mere roll of her eyes. Who knew a bunny girl could be so obnoxious without even having to try?
“Is flirting part of your Quirk?” she inquired, eyes fixed on the shorter woman.
“Nah, that’s just my natural charms! C’m’on, let’s get out of the station before a crowd comes in, don’t want you to explode, right? Wait— you wouldn’t actually explode?”
“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t,” she answered, shrugging. It earned her a bark of laughter from Mirko.
They walked side by side for a handful of minutes, not exchanging a word. It was weird. She didn’t know how she had gotten herself in such a situation, playing nice with a Pro Hero.
“Alright, doll face—”
“Stop calling me doll face.”
“Then tell me your name.”
The hero was smirking, proud and cocky.
“You could call me Yumeko, but we’re not going to see each other again, bunny girl.”
The hero extended a hand towards her.
“Usagiyama Rumi.”
“Thank you for helping me. Goodbye, bunny girl.”
“Bye, doll face! Try not to explode all over the pavement!”
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AOYAMA YUMEKO ( 青山 優芽子 )
QUIRK:: lock & load. allows yumeko to absorb shocks and store them in her body to weaponize them by concentrating the energy of the shocks in certain parts of her body.
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And It Comes Full Circle (1/3?)
It's time to escape Samilia, but Jael's gotten wounded. Cody has to make the decision to end the war himself or run away and leave Jael behind... What if there was a third option though?
TW: War, guns, fear, mentions of death, nice guy gets angry 😬
Part 2 is here!
(This drabble is set right as Cody and Jael are escaping Samilia, so they haven't met any of their other friends yet)
"Cody, I know you don't like it but—"
"You're not listening to me, Jael!" The god yelled, his voice glitchy and distorted. Cody tried very hard to keep his negative emotions in check and it had been affecting him far more in the past few weeks than usual in the time that they had been preparing to escape from Samilia for good. Jael didn't know how to deal with it.
Safely, that is.
"No one listens to me! I-I don't want to be a god..! It's not my fucking responsibility to fix everything in the universe, is it!?" Ah. So it was about his god status...Jael could understand somewhat but at the same time, what was so bad about having the ability to help everyone? If Cody would stop being so selfish then—
He cut off his own train of thought, mentally hitting himself in the head. It wasn't up to him to dictate what life others should have...but it was still hard not to do so when Cody possessed the power to end the war for good. If he would just kill the queen. If he would just kill those under her. If he would just…
"I don't want to kill again.." Cody's voice cracked, suddenly much quieter, tears streaming down his face. Jael stood still, mind going blank and the blood from his bullet wounds spreading a little more across his large white wings.
It was hard to understand the sentiment fully; I don't want to kill is Jael's personal mantra, but the unless I have to was the silent bit that came after. Cody had killed, that's true, but he hadn't resigned himself to the same fate as Jael had; he shook at the sight of blood, and cried for all suffering, all pain, all sadness. Cody felt too much to be able to kill anyone.
He didn't have a reason to kill when it came to his own life- there was no terror of dying for him. The pain that came with loss wasn't the extermination, it was losing that person without good reason. For Cody, he wasn't picking between life and death- he was choosing who deserved to exist and who didn't.
And then it was over. No warning, no suffering, no pain. The person would simply glitch and be gone; every part of their being disappearing from all but memory. No afterlife… When Cody killed with his powers, that was the end of the line. No matter how much Jael knew Mary deserved it, he couldn't force the kid to do all the dirty work.
"I know you don't." Jael responded, tone softening in an attempt to avoid setting the boy off. He tried not to be afraid of Cody because they were friends, but the god was terrifying.. if he lost control and AI took over, Jael would be killed immediately. Cody was already teetering on the edge, holding himself back.
"I know you don't, kid… I know it's hard to choose between even just one person and thousands of others when it's by your own hands.." He took a step closer, a part of his halo crumbling off completely. "I know you find it so hard.. and if you really can't do it, don't do it."
The war was awful. It needed to be stopped, but by whom? Anyone who could..? If Cody didn't make a decision to kill the queen and her most loyal followers now, then how many people would die? Why was it Cody's responsibility and not his own?
"Don't stand here trying to make a decision. If you don't want to do it, then run. You run and you keep running, because as soon as they catch you, you're not going to have time to think." Jael stretched out his bloodied wings, preparing to go down swinging. If Cody wanted to escape, then he would make damn sure of it that the god would do so.
Cody's eyes widened, panicked, and suddenly he was grabbing onto Jael and pulling him in the other direction. Black feathers started to grow and replace the old white feathers more noticeably now.
"I can't just leave you, I… I don't want to lose anyone else, Jael…" He looked down at the man's rough hands, clasping them tightly between his own. Jael tried not to snatch his arm back.
"If you die here, I don't know if I can go on.." The god swallowed thickly, trying hard not to cry more than he already had. The soldiers would find them any second to finish the job, and he just couldn't bear to lose anyone else. He didn't want a friend to die again.
"Don't you say that.." Jael's brows furrowed, and he took a step closer, pulling Cody in for a hug. "I can't fly with my wings like this, know that. I'm alright with dying if that means you'll get to—"
"Stop it!" Cody shouted. "I'm so sick of people sacrificing themselves for me when I can't even die…! It hurts so so much watching everyone I love being taken away over and over and over again, j-just dying for no reason..!" There were stakes considering that the angels had somehow got their hands on some kind of technology that would allow them to keep Cody powerless for as long as they wanted. But Cody didn't care.
He was a god, but he wasn't godly. He was born to gods but he wasn't raised by one. His powers were god-like, but he still made mistakes; he still had to learn from the very beginning. Cody hated being considered superior, or worth more than other people, no matter the circumstance.. He didn't want people to die to save him anymore. He didn't want the cycle to repeat itself.
Grabbing onto Jael's wrist and glaring through tears, Cody took a step back, and another, pulling the angel with him. "Even if you can't fly, you can still jump and survive. You can still glide." He pointed out. Cody wasn't going to let anyone else be killed because of him, not again.
Jael couldn't fight back against the strong grip, eyes wide. Cody had never actually shown how strong he was to Jael in particular, or to anyone really for that matter, and his grip strength was practically impossible to fight against.
If he did as Cody said and died anyway, the god would be so distraught by seeing him die that he could get captured. If he stayed behind and Cody didn't see him get killed, he could escape. But if he didn't go with Cody, then the god was going to stay here..? He didn't have a choice really.
Suddenly, they were running towards the large window of the building, Cody holding out his hand and smashing it before they even jumped through. Then they were falling…
More black feathers sprouted from Jael's wings as they leapt, completely replacing the blood-stained white ones. His halo shattered, and his soul ached, but it wasn't a painful ache; it was a pull that he had wanted to succumb to long ago, and now he could finally give in.
Wings snapping open, he grabbed onto Cody's other wrist to keep him from plummeting, gritting his teeth and trying to stay balanced on the wind as he fell. He was gliding, but with trouble, and they weren't exactly conspicuous.
"You're a fucking dumbass, you know that, kid?" He spoke, a little frustrated, but relieved in other ways. Cody held onto his hands, looking ahead with determination.
"You're the dumbass, Jael. Maybe you don't think you're that important to me, or maybe you gave up as soon as those shots were fired, but don't you ever give up before trying every other way first.." He was starting to calm down a bit again, watching for soldiers to appear so that he could properly deflect the bullets.
"Yeah yeah... You can lecture me once we're outta this hell-hole and you're safe."
"Once we're safe." Cody corrected.
"What did I just say?"
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silent-silver-slip · a month ago
For the behind the scenes asks: 1, 4, 16, 18?
Me? Buzzing with excitement to respond to an ask? Always! Thank you for asking lovely. ♥️♥️♥️ I am somewhat sorry for such a long post, but I am incapable of writing small things it appears. 
1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?
Oh god, I think it was Harry Potter? I started out with original works before branching into fanfiction, so I’m not certain though.
4. Do you outline before you start writing? If so, how far do you stray from that outline?
This one’s a bit up in the air to be honest! Sometimes I outline and sometimes I don’t. Almost always, I never outline anything under like 5k, which is normally written with a basic idea that keeps growing. There are also a number of longer things that I’ve done before that didn’t really have an outline either (some of my novellas happened this way). However, a number of my longer works do get an outline - either beginning with one or I hit a roadblock and begin to sketch an outline out and then it ends up being massive and more than I expected.
Parts of my outline go into depth and parts don’t, so as a result I usually keep pretty close to it. Occasionally an extra scene or a side character will take over a bit, but usually it’s very very close which is nice and helpful.
16. What is your most underrated fic?
Oh no, decisions. [I then leave this question blank, and forget to come back to it...] Okay, so I went back and started going through my fics and I was in struggle town, let me tell you.
In the end, I picked up two main ones that I think are my most underrated ones?
There’s the broken bones of our childhood which is an HP fic and actually sparked a piece of writing that got published online in the AZE which is neat. And the other is Everybody Knows (the deal is rotten) which is a Naruto fic that’s based on Orpheus and Eurydice and their legend, but is about family instead. One of these I appreciate because of the meaning behind it and it’s writing style, and the other was a lot of fun to write and I’m pretty proud of it.
18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.
Firstly, this assumes I remember anything I write and it doesn’t just vanish from my brain straight away. I barely know what I did yesterday, let alone an actual scene or line I wrote.
I’ve been staring at a few passages for a while, and this is awful I cannot make decisions. However! I figured I’d go with one that I haven’t mentioned in an ask response before and also isn’t too tricky to explain and comes with a good explanation? And fit my current mood I guess.
This scene comes from tonight’s our time which is a Naruto fic. It was a short fun piece to write and definitely related to something I felt back in summer. My comments are in italics.
And she reaches out, offering her hand, and Minato grips it, tight. Their hands are sweaty and gross, because of the weather and how it’s somehow still humid even as the sun sets, streaking the sky with pale purples and pinks and oranges. (Fuck yeah, I love the sunset! And the sunrise! The sky just looks so pretty almost all the time okay. But also - just the idea of people reaching out to each other even when it’s uncomfortable because they want to and they love each other regardless?)
The sky, however, is not what Kushina or Minato pay attention to. Rather, then launch forward, uncoordinated and laughing, towards where the sprinklers send water over the grass and pavement, turning it dark. (The idea of not paying attention to the sky because someone else is there and more important, more beautiful, definitely strikes a cord with me. And launching forward, laughing and unbalanced and just complete chaos? I can imagine it and it feels so good? Just letting go and- and I don’t even know, living, I suppose.)
They don’t go through the edges of the sprinkler, where the water’s a mist and light, they run through the worst of it, laughing and holding hands. Immediately, they’re soaked, clothes plastered to their skin as droplets of water run down their arms and faces and necks. Minato’s hair falls over his eyes whilst Kushina has flyaway strands finally pinned down, and she rubs a hand across her forehead, shoving them to the side so they stop irritating her. (Not gonna lie, this was partially me just working on descriptions, but hey. If it’s hot and humid and gross even at like 8.30pm, hell yeah I’m gonna run through the worst bit of the sprinkler if my friend wants too as well. That weather is gross and you’re dying, okay? Trust me on that one, it’s not fun. But, well, to meet up with a friend after so long, there’s not much I won’t do.)
Now out of the sprinkler, they turn. The weather no longer feels so hot and muggy. It’s cool and warm and the perfect temperature, even though their clothes have darkened with water and their hair will definitely turn fuzzy. (More description stuff.)
Looking at each other, they laugh, loud and wild and happy. This is, undoubtedly, what life is all about. Laughing and living, looking at each other and grinning. They’re adults but that doesn’t mean they have to leave childish acts behind them. (They’re just so happy!! They’re in their like twenties and they’re “adults” but they’re having such a fine time and they’re loving and happy and it’s just glorious. This is what we all deserve, okay? Around work and uni and life in general - we deserve to be happy and loving and loved in return, laughing and glorious and far frome alone.)
Because of the challenges I had figuring it out, there are a few of the ones I was tossing up beneath the line.
My favourite bits are in bold.
Scene from i don’t believe that love was made to break:
“Hey look,” Reggie says, “the sun’s rising.” And it is, painting the sky with colour. The sun itself is a circle of orange and the lake is fractured by every golden ray, colours rippling across the water.
Yet not one of them watches it. Instead, they are caught by each other. How the sun makes them glow. How the light gentles their faces. How they smile at each other.
The day grows warmer, the sun goes higher, and they are trapped in a single moment, aware of the way they are pressed up against each other, the way they are happy, the way they are loving without reserve.
Scene from the sea isn’t yours but you’re still the sea’s which may or may not be an AU of my own AU:
Sometimes kindness is an innate part of us, sometimes it’s there regardless of whether or not we know it. Sometimes kindness is apologising and saying ‘What can I do to help?’ Sometimes kindness is helping when help isn’t wanted but needed anyway.
In one world, there would be an information network growing in the shadows, spreading further and further with no one aware of it but one boy. In another world, there is no information network growing, but something else grows instead—hands stretching out, faces looking down. Kindness shared is kindness that can be passed on. Small things can stack, one on top of the other, and sometimes they lead to massive changes that are unforeseen. When a boy extends his hand out to a homeless child, she reaches back cautiously, but their story will end in trust and loyalty, (always).
Scene from Wayfinders‘ epilogue:
“This is what it means to be human.” The words seem to shock everyone and Toru smiles as he watches heads turn to one another, muttered discussion growing once again. “It is human to fight when the odds are against you,” he says. “It is human to say ‘we will keep living’ when it seems impossible. It is human to find a way to survive when an army marches towards you.
“It is human to fight. Sometimes this is against another opponent in a test of strength and sometimes it is against grief that threatens to overwhelm you. Sometimes you fail. Sometimes you fall. Sometimes you bow your head and give up. But you are not alone. Someone will reach ask if you’re alright. Someone will gift you a kind word. Someone will reach out a hand. There will always be someone reaching out a hand.
“A new era is dawning,” Toru lifts his chin, looks not to everyone below but to the sun overhead, shining down. “A new era is dawning and it is not one of war. It is one of peace, of love, of acceptance. It is one of kindness, of family, of friendship.” He smiles. “I speak not only to my people now, but to all of you. Let us remember hope, in times of hardship. Let us remember kindness, in times of cruelty. And let us remember to reach out and lift one another up high for you are never alone.”
(There are so many things Toru wants to say. He wants to engrave the lessons he learnt into people’s skin. He wants them to know what he does, that kindness is not a flaw, that mercy is not a weakness. But they will only learn that in time. And they have the time. They have the opportunity. Toru will see that they have all the time in the world.)
 (In the end, there is only one village that hears the words Toru does not say. One full of ghosts and laughing people. One full of refugees and fighters. One full of survivors and graves. Uzushio hears him and hears what he says with every word that escapes his lips.)
 (The sea will never die.)
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picturetoburnnn · a month ago
Maybe | bucky barnes x reader
warnings: lots of language, angst, fluff
category: angst with a happy ending
word count: 2.7k
summary: when bucky acts standoffish for too long, will the resulting argument be the end of it all?
a/n: this is my first time posting anything ive written since february of 2020, and my first time writing for bucky, hope you guys like it. beta'd by my internet best friend @cxddlyash, I love you sm
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“Buck, please talk to me,” she practically begged, watching her once-loving partner shove past her like another obstacle. “How was your day?”
“It was fine, doll.” He spun and quickly pressed a short kiss to her forehead, but it felt like an afterthought. “I’m tired,” he grunted. “I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed. Don’t wait up.”
Before she could get another word in, he gently closed the bathroom door. Just once, she wanted him to slam the door, yell, fight. Just once, she wanted him to get mad and in her face. Anything but this god-awful polite avoidance he was giving her now. In a huff of annoyance, she plopped herself down on their supposed-to-be-shared bed.
Was it something I said? Did I do something to make him mad, and that’s why he’s been acting like this?
It had been literal weeks since this started though. She thought he would be mature enough to have brought it up by now if that were the case. Insecurity after insecurity, bad thought after bad thought swirled through Y/N’s mind as she contemplated the circumstances.
Everything was fine until he started making those amends. In an attempt to reconcile with the pain he caused as the Winter Soldier, Bucky had been making an effort to find the people he had harmed as the soldier and apologize for the wrongdoing. The first few, he had been fine with. Taking out corrupt politicians felt like just another day on the job, even if it was some altered version of himself that put them into office. It was when he got to the latter half of the list that things got hard. Innocent bystanders, honest cases of wrong place, wrong time -- that’s what started rocking the boat.
It rocked and rocked until he started drowning. And no matter how hard she tried to help him, no matter what flotation device she sent out, he always ignored it with a hardened glare and a grunt of annoyance.
Now, he came home, said a few words (maybe, on a good day he would press a kiss to Y/N’s hair), and scurry off to some isolated area and shrink inward on himself, and snap if she came near.
She knew it was selfish to think, but Y/N just wanted her Bucky back. The one who brought her flowers on their first date, who smiled shyly when she touched him. She wanted her boyfriend to be okay, to come back from this hardened shell of the man he was.
So when the door to the en suite bathroom opened, she shot upright, catching his eye.
“What am I to you, Buck?”
He froze. “What?”
“What am I in your life right now? Because as of late, I’ve been feeling like I’m nothing to you.” Her chest heaved in anticipation.
“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N,” Bucky sighed as he pushed past her, for the second time. Opening the drawer to find his nightclothes, he added, “I thought you were aware of that.”
“You snap at me like I’m constantly annoying you,” she argued. “It’s hard to feel loved when you feel like a bother.”
“I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” The words were painfully insincere. Spoken as if out of habit, not out of intention.
“Sorry doesn’t just fix everything, Buck,” she huffed. “I know things have been hard for you and I want to help but I can’t if you keep just pushing me out like this. Even if you don’t talk to me, you have to talk to someone. Sam is there for you, I’m here for you, you have a support system, use it!”
“Maybe I don’t want to!”
The words hung in the air like a death trap. His shoulders shook as the dam finally broke. “Maybe I want to figure this out my own damn self, and maybe you asking me every twenty fucking minutes if I’m okay is the bane of my fucking existence. Maybe I need space from you, and maybe that’s why I sleep on the floor. Maybe you drive me fucking insane, and I push you out so I don’t hurt your precious feelings. Maybe that’s it.”
Y/N stood back, stunned. Tears started to gather in her eyes as the words hit their marks like the daggers he loved to polish.
“Well,” she said through a shaky breath. “If that’s how you feel.”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes hard as stone. “That is how I feel.”
She nodded slowly as she looked around the room. Memories of what she thought was a treasured love flooded back to her and broke in her mind as she realized just how he must have been faking. “Then I will leave,” she said quietly.
Bucky said nothing, just eyed her up and down. At his lack of protest, she nodded again and began gathering her stuff.
“He pushed me away, so I left. I didn’t really pack much of anything. I’m sorry for imposing, thanks for letting me borrow this,” she tugged on the sleeve of the oversized shirt she wore as she finished recounting the story.
“Hey,” Sam chided, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not imposing. I may be Tin-Man’s closest thing to a friend, but you come first. You’re more family than he is.”
“I appreciate it, Sam.” She smiled up at him sadly.
Neither one of them mentioned the phone that was buzzing loudly on the table, nor the twenty texts that went unanswered. If he wanted space, Y/N would give him space. In her mind, he was calling her out of guilt, out of obligation to ease her hurt, rather than a sincere need to apologize.
She literally couldn’t be further from the truth.
Bucky had torn the apartment apart when he realized what he’d done. In a moment of anger and frustration, he had accidentally targeted Y/N, and every hateful thing he had never meant to say came spewing out like venom.
“Fuck!” He yelled in frustration as the ninth call went to voicemail. “Baby please,” he sniffled as soon as the tone rang. “Y/N please, please, I need you. You’re all I need, please doll come home, come back to me. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean any of it. Just tell me you’re okay. Tell me how to fix it and I will. I don’t feel that way, please doll, just come back and we can talk. Please.”
Tears sprung to his eyes as he ended the call, sending yet another message to your phone. His attempt at deep, calming breaths quickly turned into hyperventilation. He got his phone out again to call the only other person he could think of, the only other person that might possibly listen to him.
Sam’s phone rang, and surprise littered his features. He angled his phone away, careful to keep Y/N from seeing the caller ID. “I’ve gotta take this, it’s Sarah.” He internally cringed at how unconvincing the lie was. “Are you okay for a few minutes?”
“Yeah, of course,” Y/N wiped away a tear and plastered on a smile. “Go, talk to your sister. Tell her I miss her.”
Sam nodded and quickly walked out of the room before answering. “What the hell, Bionic Man?” he hissed into the phone instantly.
“Please tell me she’s with you,” Bucky immediately breathed.
Sam stopped for a moment, taken aback by the amount of raw emotion audible in the other man’s voice. “She’s safe,” he conceded. “You didn’t answer my question, Barnes. What. The. Hell?”
“I didn’t mean it, any of it.” Sam could hear shuffling on the other end.
“Metalhead, if you even think about coming here after the shit you just pulled--”
“I’ll be there in twenty.” The line went dead before Sam could even respond.
With a sigh, the Falcon walked back into the living room to find Y/N asleep on the couch. With a sad smile, he gently shook your shoulder. “Y/N, c’mon let’s get you to the guest room, it’s more comfortable.”
A heavy pounding pulled Sam from his thoughts in the kitchen. Opening the door, he was face to face with a wall of muscle and self-hatred.
“Please, Sam I need to see her.”
“I have to tell her I didn’t mean it.”
“She’s finally asleep after crying her eyes out for a fucking hour, man. Y/N may be strong, but she isn’t limitless. She needs time.”
Before Bucky could shoulder his way into the house, Sam put both his hands out in front of him. “Why don’t you come in and sit down, and talk with me until she wakes up?”
Quiet voices dragged Y/N from a restless sleep. Sam was right, the guest bed was more comfortable to lay on, but the fact that it was wide enough for her to feel the empty space beside her brought on another wave of sadness.
Curious, Y/N shrugged off the blankets and followed the gentle sounds to the kitchen, and stopped dead in her tracks. There, sitting across from Sam, was Bucky, nursing a cup of tea. Even now, with everything he had put her through, she couldn’t help but admire him, how the sunlight gently reflected off the artificial arm.
Her gentle gasp of surprise was enough to alert both men to her presence. Sam looked at her with a mixture of sadness and pity as he stood, ready to defend either of his friends from the other.
The only look Bucky had in his eye was relief. He looked at Y/N and saw his saving grace, his future, if only he hadn’t gone and said what he did.
“Doll…” he breathed.
“Sam,” Y/N mumbled, not taking her eyes off of Bucky. The Falcon could read enough emotion on her face to know that she wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for Bucky.
“I think you should go, Barnes,” he said quietly, stepping in between the pair. He faced the 106-year-old, crossing his arms defensively. Bucky tried to look over his shoulder, to catch another glimpse of her, but she was gone. The hope faded from his body as he looked back down at the ground, dejected. Sam had half a mind to force the two of them in a room together, at seeing his friend look so broken.
Without another word, the former Winter Soldier sulked out the door, defeated.
A week had passed, a slow week that Bucky had mostly spent laying on the floor of what was supposed to be home to both of them. Sometimes a bottle was in his hand, sometimes it was shattered against the wall before he got up to get another one. All the experimentation done decades ago had ruined any chances of him being able to be drunk again, but that didn’t stop him from trying to find ways to numb the pain.
Little did he know, Y/N was in quite a similar situation. While Sam had been incredibly gracious to offer her the guest room, he was going to lose his goddamn mind if she spent another day pretending like everything was fine and ignoring the problems. Any time he tried to bring it up, she creatively dodged the question.
“You need to talk to him, Y/N,” Sam scolded.
“No, I don’t,” she sighed, placing another marker on the Battleship board. “F3.”
“Miss. You can’t just pretend nothing happened. At the very least, give him closure and officially tell him you’re over. D9.”
“Miss. You are entirely too bad at this game,” Y/N teased. “J6.”
“Miss. Stop avoiding the situation. If I get one more hit before you do, you have to text him. Deal?”
“Fine,” she agreed teasingly. “You’re shit at this so there’s no way.”
Y/N’s jaw fell open. “Okay, that’s just not fair.”
“You win some, you lose some, kiddo. Time to text him.”
6:30 tonight. where we had our first date
The words lit up his phone, and Bucky had never gotten ready faster. Within minutes, he was dressed in fresh clothes (he hadn’t changed since that day at Sam’s), brushed his teeth, and out the door. Part of him wonders if she didn’t mention the name specifically because she didn’t think he remembered, or cared enough to remember. But he remembered absolutely everything about their relationship, and about her.
It was only two in the afternoon when she sent the text, but he was seated at the diner at 2:30. He wondered if she would remember that this was actually the exact booth they sat in that day too.
By the time 6:30 rolled around, he was certain the waiter was ready to kill him. He’d ordered nothing but water and had sat there for four hours, insisting on waiting and prepping everything he would say to Y/N. The server looked like he was getting ready to kick him out, metal arm be damned, when Y/N walked in. A shirt he’d never seen before, and pants much the same, he realized at some point she’d had to have made a shopping trip.
Her eyes scanned the restaurant until they landed on him. God, he missed her eyes.
She sat in front of him and smiled at the waiter, ordering a soda and a plate of fries before meeting Bucky’s eyes again.
“I have a couple questions.” Y/N breathed, and Bucky then realized it was her voice he missed the most.
“Yeah,” he answered eagerly. “Anything.”
“When did you stop loving me?”
His heart fell to his feet, and all the air was sucked out of him. With six words, everything he had been preparing to say was swept from his mind.
“Doll, I never stopped loving you.” His heart ached at the thought.
“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it.” She wiped at her eye, catching the tear before it even fully formed. She had already spent days crying over this man, she’d be damned if she cried to his face.
“I’ll always mean it,” he tried, reaching for her joined hands on the table. She snatched them away before he could react. “I know I hurt you. And I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. You deserve so much better than I can ever be. But, doll, I need you. I didn’t mean a word of it, you have to know that. I shouldn’t have said any of it, but I did, and I can’t take it back. No matter how much I want and need to. I will spend the rest of my life regretting what I said to you, but, if you’ll let me, I will spend it trying to fix it too.”
Y/N sat in stunned silence. She fully expected to be met with move-out demands and eviction notices. Hearing him say that was everything she had wanted to hear for the past week. It was too much at once. This had to be a joke, a prank, something.
“I think you should go home,” she mumbled.
“I already am home,” he whispered as he grabbed her hand with both of his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Anywhere you are, that’s where I want to be. That’s where my home is. It stopped being a place the moment you walked into my life.”
Y/N breathed a shaky sigh, trying to hold in tears.
“Doll, what’s wrong?” Bucky’s eyes widened as he saw the water gathering in her eyes, afraid he crossed a boundary but unable to let go of her hands, lest she disappear on him again.
“Can… can you please just hold me for a minute?” she all but whimpered into the loud diner atmosphere.
Even though he swore he hated public displays of affection, Bucky was immediately making room in the booth next to him. She quickly scooted over to him, pressing her body against his as he wrapped his metal arm around her shoulders.
This. This was where he belonged. Next to her, in a ‘50’s themed diner, as the waiter placed her cola and fries in front of her. He pressed a kiss to her hairline, closing his eyes and savoring the moment.
“I have loved you,” he whispered into her hair, “since the day that I met you.”
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deanwinchesterswitch · a month ago
Trust You With My Heart ~ Chapter Three
Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader insert
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, language, fluff, a wee bit of angst, light smut-thigh riding, oral-male receiving. Cardiophilia.
Word Count: 7593 (Part 3)
Credits: Beta-the wonderful and super talented @muchamusedaboutnothing. Thank you for your kind support and inspiring feedback! I am always grateful for your helpful comments and suggestions. Title card by the amazing @talesmaniac89
Summary: Dean admits a secret he’s been keeping. When the emotions threaten to overwhelm him, Y/N is there to reassure him and show him how much fun they can have together; and Dean learns just how powerful the sound of a heartbeat can be.
Masterpost // Chapter One // Chapter Two
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The second hand ticked, another minute gone. Thirty-six in total now. Thirty-six minutes she had been lying here staring at her ceiling—sleep even more elusive than before her talk with Dean.
What the hell was she thinking? Barely twenty-four hours ago, she’d been wondering if he felt the same as her, wondering if there was a way that they could make it work. Dean had all but said he loved her, that he wanted to try and make a life with her, and what does she do? Tells him they should sleep on it and then runs away like a coward. Y/N knew she’d hurt him; he had immediately withdrawn and stepped away at her words. She can only imagine what else he must be feeling—shock, anger, disappointment, guilt.
Son of a bitch! She’s a fucking idiot.
Kicking the covers off, Y/N races down the hall to Dean’s room, hoping he’s still awake. As she reaches for the handle, she laughs to herself; it’s probably the first time in a long time that someone has turned him down. Her amusement is immediately squelched as the door is roughly yanked open.
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The lost, tormented stare that greets her breaks her heart and sends her pulse skittering all at the same time. That’s the thing about Dean; whenever she’s near him, the desire to pull him into an embrace and comfort him like a small child or to kiss him into mindless oblivion is a constant emotional battle.
Then a brilliant smile spreads across his face, and Y/N launches herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck. Dean stumbles back into the room with a grunt and swiftly plants his feet to keep the two of them from falling to the cold cement floor. She presses up on her toes, and he pulls her flush against him, holding tight as she peppers kisses along his jawline.
Y/N gives him a final kiss on the tip of his chin and cradles his face in her hands as she leans back. Any uncertainty about her decision to seek him out falls away at the look of hope in the virid depths of his eyes. There’s a pang in her heart when she realizes just how deeply she had hurt him.
“Dean.” Sliding her thumbs along his cheekbones, she hesitantly smiles. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Dean’s owlish blink makes her laugh. “I- Y/N?” Emotions roll across his face like the end credits of a movie; she barely has time to read one before the next appears.
“Just kiss me, you idiot.”
She lowers a hand to punch him in the chest, and he grabs her wrist, thwarting her assault; turning it, he leans down to kiss her palm, the softest brush of skin against skin. It tickles, and her fingers flutter. Dean laughs softly as his thumb ghosts over the barely visible line of puckered skin along her forearm. He peeks at her through thick lashes, eyes soft, expression wistful. “Do you remember what you told me?”
The way he’s looking at her, the huskiness of his voice short-circuits her synapses. “I- I told you-” A finger grazes her palm, and her fingers curl in reflex. Y/N clears her throat and swallows thickly, trying to ignore the heat spreading up her arm as his fingers continue to dance across her skin. “I said that I didn’t care if it ended up being the ugliest scar on the planet. That I would wear it proudly and tell anyone that asked that THE Dean Winchester had stitched me up.”
“You even told Dad that I stitched you up better than he ever did.” Dean laughs softly, head still bent over her hand. “I’ll never forget how offended he looked.”
Y/N smiles, unable to form words as the warmth radiates through her entire body. So mesmerized by the sensation of his fingers tracing the lines on her palm, she almost misses his whispered question.
“Why don’t you ever let Cas remove it when he has to heal you?”
He seems almost in awe that it still exists, and she takes her time responding, lost in her own memories. When he lightly squeezes her hand, Y/N locks eyes with him and licks her lips, her voice now a low rasp. “Because it reminds me of you and the first time you kissed me.” It had been a quick little peck. Dean had turned away blushing, busying himself with cleaning up the aftermath of his handiwork, but Y/N had never forgotten how her heart had hammered in her chest.
Dean straightens and brings her palm to rest against his cheek, drawing her closer as he pins it beneath his hand. The stubble on his cheek tickles her palm. “That was the day I knew I loved you.”
Y/N opens her mouth, trying to form words, but he answers the unasked question before it can pass her lips.
“I had every intention of telling you back then. Was even going to take you out on a date the next time we were hunting on our own. But then all hell broke loose, literally. Everything that went down with Dad and Sam... and it just kept getting worse. It never seemed like the right time.”
“When I got the Mark of Cain, well…” His voice fades, and the clench of his jaw as he tries to hold back tears makes her heart ache for him.
Dean had pushed her away after getting the Mark, slowly forced her out of his life so completely that she had been terrified that she’d never see him again. Sam had kept in contact, and she had done whatever she could to help from the sidelines, but that was the worst time of her life, not being there for Dean when he needed her the most.
“I never wanted to involve you in all of that, but I missed you.” her throat tightens as she holds back a sob. “I missed you so damn much, Y/N/N. I tried to hang on for you. You don’t know how many times the thought of you pulled me back, kept me sane—kept me in check. Then after the darkness was released… ”
Tears stream down her face, matching the ones now spilling over his lashes. “Dean. Hey, it’s okay.” Her thumbs skim across his cheeks, trying to ease some of the tension. “Listen, there’s nothing we can do to get that time back, but we’re here now, and that’s all that matters, right?”
Dean’s eyes dance around the room, and he nods, lips pressed together in a thin line.
Y/N grips his chin, forces him to look at her before continuing. “Listen, we both know that it won’t always be rainbows and unicorns. We’ll fight. One or both of us will eventually be injured on a hunt or face death. But, there is no one in this world that I feel safer with—no one that I trust more, no one that holds my heart the way you do.” Y/N slides her hands into his hair, holding him steady. “I want this. I want you.”
The last word has barely settled in the air between them before Dean’s lips meet hers. Holding her close, he walks them to the end of the bed. When her heel hits the frame, she abruptly stops, but Dean’s momentum pushes her back. Arms still wrapped around his neck, she pulls him down with her, falling onto the mattress with a bounce. Dean stops his descent with a hand pressed into the fabric on either side of her head, smiling down at her as she giggles.
Straddling a leg, he leans over her, shifting to brace his weight on his forearms, he presses a knee onto the edge of the mattress. The soft kisses he trails along her collarbone and neck make her head lull to the side.
“Mmmm… that feels so good.” He nips at the now taut muscle of her neck, the scruff on his jaw deliciously scrapping her skin. The heat of him seeps into her pores and deep into her bones, seducing her to the edge of oblivion.
Lost in the sensation of his plush lips caressing her skin, Y/N startles when his hand slips between her legs. Limbs flailing, a hand connects with the side of his head and a knee to his balls. Dean pulls away with a grunt, and she quickly tries to sit up, only to have her forehead collide with his nose.
“Son of a bitch,” they both yell in unison.
Dean stands and takes a couple of steps back, giving her space to finally sit upright. With the heel of her palm pressed between her brows, she squints at Dean. The fingers of one hand pinch the bridge of his nose while the others massage his groin.
“Shit. I’m so sorry,” she groans. “How bad does it hurt?”
“I’m okay,” he mumbles, running a hand over his crotch to adjust himself a final time. “You know, it’s been a long… ” Dean glances at his watch, “ ...twenty-six hours. Why don’t we get some sleep?”
“Yeah, okay.”
He laughs as she falls back onto the bed and dramatically throws an arm out to the side, draping the other over her eyes.
“Can I sleep here?”
“You gonna beat me up in my sleep?”
Y/N lifts the arm from her face and peels an eyelid open to see him glaring at her, arms crossed over his chest. “No,” she huffs, sitting back up.
The corner of his mouth curls up, and she can’t help but stick her bottom lip out, pouting, “I’m really sorry.”
Dean’s arms drop to his sides as a rumble of laughter echoes through the room. “Go on, get in.” He waves a hand toward the pillows as he walks over to close the door and shut off the light.
She rolls over and scrambles up the bed, snuggling into the pillow as she slides under the covers.
“I’m coming in,” Dean warns, lifting the bedding.
She laughs at his choice of words but curls in on herself. “I won’t move.” True to her word, Y/N remains still as Dean settles into bed, lying on his back. He carefully raises his arm, and she eagerly snuggles into his side, ear resting above his heart with an arm draped over his waist.
The weight of Dean’s arm across her shoulders pins her in place, and a muffled “I love you” follows her into the sweet, silent darkness as his lips press into her hair.
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The cool cotton beneath her cheek lets her know that Dean is no longer in bed with her. Figuring he must have slipped out to use the bathroom, Y/N rolls onto her back, stretching languidly. It had been a long time since she had slept that well. Wrapped in Dean’s arms, ear pressed against his chest as she listened to the rhythmic beat of his heart…
Slipping out of bed, Y/N rushes to her room. She takes advantage of the fact that she has one of the few rooms with an attached bathroom before grabbing what she came to get and hurries back to Dean’s room.
She had hoped to get back before he did, but as she steps through the doorway, she finds him standing next to the bed. The smell of bacon wafts past her, and she turns to see a tray ladened with food and the empty whiskey decanter filled with flowers sitting on top of his desk. It all looks so delicious, but Y/N is more concerned with Dean at the moment.
He’s staring at the bed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, shoulders slumped. She can just see his profile, he looks so dejected, and she wonders what could have happened. A low but gruff ‘son of a bitch’ fills the air, and it dawns on her that Dean thinks she ran out on him again.
Smiling, she takes a step into the room, hands held behind her back. “Hey, Handsome.”
Dean starts, shoulder muscles flexing in surprise. Y/N tries to keep from laughing as he shuffles his feet and turns to face her. “Hey, Beautiful.” The smile he offers her doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
Y/N steps further into the room, keeping her back to Dean as she walks toward the desk. “I had to go to the bathroom.” She bites the inside of her cheek when Dean’s face goes from pensive to relieved, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I hope you didn’t think I ran out on you,” she adds, flashing him a sweet smile.
“Oh, uh, no.” Dean nervously shifts as he keeps eye contact with her.
“Good.” She tilts her head toward the food. “The food smells wonderful, and the flowers are beautiful. Are they from my garden?”
“Oh, yeah.” Dean’s entire body visibly relaxes at her comment. Walking over to the desk, he pulls a ranunculus from the vase and twirls it between his fingers. “I wanted to surprise you. I made your favorite breakfast foods. It’s been a while since either of us ate. Thought you might be hungry. I’m starving.”
Y/N hums. “Thank you. Breakfast for dinner, my favorite. Everything looks delicious.” Bringing a hand from behind her back, she picks up a strip of bacon, offering him a bite before she finishes the slice. “Oh, that’s so good. You always make the best bacon.”
Dean grins and taps her nose with the flower making her giggle. “After we eat, I was thinking we could head back to bed, and I could give you the rest of your surprise.” The suggestive arch of his brow, coupled with the boyish grin, sends a wave of heat through her, lips parting on a soft exhale.
As he opens his arms, ready to pull her into a hug, she smiles coyly and moves away, staying just out of his reach.
“I have a surprise for you too.”
“You do?”
“Yep.” The ‘p’ pops off her lips, and she winks.
Dean’s hands fall to his sides, and his eyes roam her body, finally taking in her stance. “Whatcha got behind your back?”
“Don’t you wanna eat first?” Pursing her lips, she arches a brow. “I thought you were starving?”
“I think I’m hungry for something else now,” he quips, teeth dragging across his bottom lip.
A quiet ‘oh’ escapes her parted lips at the thought of those perfect teeth sinking into her flesh. Heart beating a little faster, she swallows thickly before asking, “but what about all this food?” Surprised at how steady her voice is, Y/N teases him some more. “It seems a shame to let it all go to waste. I can give you your surprise later.”
“I can make more food,” Dean growls, tossing the flower onto the desk.
Y/N steps back as he tries to reach for her again. “Stop.” Dean drops his hands at her command; his bottom lip pushes out in a pout, and she chokes back a laugh. “Oh my gods, you are such a big baby.”
Dean throws in his best puppy dog eyes and whines, “Pleeeease?”
Ugh, it’s really unfair how one man can be so fucking sexy and childishly adorable all at the same time.
She suppresses a snort and quickly bites the inside of her cheek to keep from full-on laughing. Clearing her throat, she takes a couple of deep breaths to expel some nervous energy. “Do you trust me?”
It takes him a moment, but once Dean realizes that she’s serious, he rolls his shoulders and lifts his chin. “With everything I am.” He places a hand over his heart, like a pledge. “With all of my heart.”
Y/N stares at him, entranced, willing herself not to cry at his words, and then nods.
Damn, he can be such a sap sometimes.
It always throws her for a loop because it usually comes out at the most unexpected times, like now. Another deep breath helps her focus.
“Hmm, since you said please, I suppose I could let you have your surprise first.” Wetting her lips, she slowly drags her gaze down his body, taking her time in bringing her eyes back to his face. The heat in his stare is like a jolt of lightning, prickling her skin, the rich baritone of his voice, the roll of thunder that settles deep in her bones.
“Dammit, woman, I want my surprise.”
This time she can’t contain her burst of laughter. “Fine.” Dean grins broadly at her response, pressing his tongue against the backs of his teeth. She shakes her head and composes herself. “Take your clothes off and get in bed.”
Clearly not expecting the command, Dean’s eyes widen; he bites his bottom lip and raises a brow. At the tilt of her head, he huffs out a breath. “Yes, ma’am.”
Not wasting any more time, he strips off his pajama bottoms and boxers. Scrambling up on the mattress, he gets tangled in the bedding and falls face-first into the pillows before quickly righting himself.
“Steady there, cowboy.” She laughs as Dean throws the blanket to the floor in a huff.
Awestruck, Y/N stares at him; how can she not? The man is sex on bowed legs—hard angles and soft curves of bone and muscle covered in creamy freckled skin. As he settles back against the headboard, she pulls her hands from behind her back to reveal what they’re holding.
Dean lets out a low whistle. “The steth.”
“Sure you want to give it a try?”
“Hell, yeah! But, what else you got there?” Dean smiles wide and bright.
“We’ll get to that.” Moving closer to the bed, she lays the items on the end of the mattress. Arms crossed in front of her, Y/N fidgets with the hem of her tank top. Dean’s eyes are focused on her, desire and something softer swirling in their depths. She takes her time pulling the material up her chest, stretching her arms above her head. It’s barely audible, but Dean inhales sharply when her breasts spring free of the fabric and cause her own breath to hitch. The top drifts to the floor as she leisurely lowers her arms.
His fingers curl into the sheets, and he whispers, “Tease.”
She winks and blows him a kiss just before hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She slowly shimmies them down her legs, taking her underwear with, kicking the clothing to the side once the material reaches her ankles.
Kneeing up onto the mattress, Y/N crawls between his long, well-muscled legs until she can straddle his lap. She lays her palm on his chest, and the soft cotton sheets rustle as he fists the material tighter, his thigh muscles tensing beneath her bare ass.
Back arching as she reaches for the stethoscope, she squeals, nearly sliding off his legs as his mouth latches onto a breast. A warm, calloused hand grips her hip; the other spans her back to hold her in place as he adjusts beneath her. He moans against her skin, and she struggles to fully grasp the steth, her fingers trembling as her body shudders in response. Dean continues to suckle; his rough tongue circles her areola, and sharp teeth gently tug at her nipple.
It takes a couple of attempts before she gets a firm hold on the instrument as he releases her breast, only to turn his attention to the other one. Y/N pushes against his chest, and he lifts his head, tongue peeking out from between his teeth. His heart is thudding rapidly against her hand and kicks up a notch when she ducks in for a kiss, grinding against his growing erection.
Thick fingers dig into the flesh at her hip as his hand glides up her back to rest at the nape of her neck, cupping the back of her head. The kiss is passionate, needy. He sits up, arm slipping around her back to pull her close; the fingers at her nape slip into her hair, and the hard line of his erection presses against her stomach.
She drops the steth on the bed, skimming her hand up his arm. Dean moans against her lips when her fingers gently scrape his scalp; they continue to slide through his hair until she can grip a handful, and then she tugs, hard.
Dean gasps, and Y/N captures his bottom lip, dragging it between her teeth as she pulls away, the hand on his chest pushing him back against the headboard. She releases the plump, tender skin with a quick nip and whispers, "Wow, your heart is already beating so fast."
“I have a gorgeous, naked woman sitting in my lap, teasing the hell out of me."
"It's going to be nearly impossible to distinguish any of the beautiful sounds it makes-"
"You're naked ..." he interrupts, "... in my lap."
"-while it's pounding away like this," she finishes. “You think you can try and calm down a bit?” Sliding back on his thighs, she leaves her hand over his heart. “I want to hear your resting heartbeat.”
Dean stares at her, dumbfounded. “W- what?”
“I know,” she hums, smiling. “Let’s try, though.” Y/N knows she might be asking the impossible of him. It’s taking every bit of restraint she has not to say fuck the stethoscope and impale herself on the thick, stiff shaft that’s resting heavily on his stomach.
She wraps her fingers around his hand at her hip and tugs it upward, laying it over her heart. The heat of his touch spreads through her veins like liquid fire, and she makes a conscious effort to keep her pulse from jackrabbiting.
“Hmm?” She looks up to find him staring at her, enthralled.
“I love you so much.” His voice is deeper than usual, filled with emotion, and this time she can’t stop the uptick in her pulse. Dean’s eyes widen, apparently feeling the increase in her heart rate, and she grins.
“You want to hear it?”
“Please?” he begs, nodding eagerly.
Dismissing any more thoughts of calming his racing pulse, Y/N picks up the stethoscope and explains what each part is and the proper way to use it. It takes her all of three minutes, but Dean squirms beneath her the entire time.
“Okay, you ready?”
Dean looks down at his lap and then back up to her and arches a brow. “Really?”
“Sorry,” she laughs.
“No, you’re not.”
“No. I’m really not.”
He grunts in annoyance as she laughs and gives him a quick peck on the cheek.
Just as she’s about to put the earpieces in for him, he blurts, “I’m dying here, Doc. Can we move this along?”
“Doc, huh?”
“Well, you got the equipment.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and his tongue slips out from his toothy grin to wet his lips.
She lifts her eyes to the ceiling, trying not to laugh at the situation, and fails miserably. “I’m trying,” she huffs, “but you won’t sit still. You’re going to make me come all over your beefy fucking thighs if you don’t settle down.”
Shit! Did she really say that out loud?
The glint in Dean’s eye confirms it. He doesn’t give her even a second to prepare; large hands quickly manhandle her until she’s straddling a single leg. Y/N moans as her soft folds drag across taut, solid muscle until he’s satisfied with her placement.
“So you like my thighs?” Eyes dark, the corner of his mouth curls up, he looks dangerous… sinful. “Bet you’ve dreamt about riding these thighs, haven’t you.” Dean’s hands drop to her hips, rough-skinned fingers press into the globes of her ass as he guides her wet heat along the hard quadriceps of his leg.
She moves to lay the stethoscope on the bed, but he stops her. “No, I still want to listen.”
“O- okay. Sure.” The words come out low and breathy; the friction as he sets a slow, steady pace makes her clit swell and skin flush with heat.
Y/N fumbles with the instrument, the headset nearly snapping around his nose when he jerks his leg, sending a ripple of pleasure through her. “Fuck, Dean. Give me a minute.”
Dean relaxes his leg and smiles mischievously. “Do we need to try and slow your heart rate?”
“You’re an ass,” she huffs, shaking her head in annoyance. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she finally sets the ear tips in place. “Comfortable?”
Dean nods, fingers flexing against her flesh in response and anticipation, his grin wide and brilliant.
Resting a palm on his shoulder for balance, she flashes him a joyful smile in return. “Alright, here we go. You remember where to place it?”
“Yeah.” Releasing one of her hips, he places two fingers around the chestpiece like she showed him. Dean bites his lip, his brow adorably furrowing as he concentrates on the task.
Y/N presses her lips together, trying to quiet her breaths, and slightly adjusts the placement of the diaphragm for him. As soon as he can clearly hear her heart, his eyes widen in surprise. “Damn, babe. You okay?”
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Dean’s POV
Smiling, she leans in and pulls out an earpiece, whispering against the shell of his ear, “Just listen.”
A low whine escapes him when the warmth of her breath tickles his skin, but he nods without another sound. Y/N kisses along his jawline, her fingers ghosting along his collarbones and down his biceps. When her lips meet his, the change in her heart rhythm catches him off guard, his lips parting in awe.
Taking advantage of the gesture, her tongue sweeps into his mouth and over his, her pulse quickening. With each passing second, the kiss becomes more passionate. He strokes his fingers along her spine, mesmerized by the fluctuations of sound he hears with each touch. It becomes harder for him to focus, torn between wanting to touch every part of her or continue to listen to the soft melody thrumming in her chest—a song that has quickly become his favorite tune of all time.
Y/N breaks the kiss when his hand slips, dislodging the steth. Dean’s chest tightens at the look of adoration in her eyes laced with understanding, and he closes his, briefly overwhelmed by it all. Her feather-light touch traces the hairline at his temple, fingers running through his hair and curling around the back of his ear before cupping his face.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”
Dean opens his eyes to see a soft smile gracing her kiss swollen lips. Brain still on overload, he blinks and then clears his throat. “I want to hear more, but I want to touch you.” Regaining some composure, he arches a brow and smirks, “I want to explore every inch of your body just to hear what I can do to your heart.”
The coy smile she gives him in return should have been his warning that he is out of his league at the moment, but all he can think about is the whispered tempo that conspires to keep pace with his own heart.
“I’ll make you a deal,” she offers, making Dean suck in a sharp breath as she continues to slide her slick folds along his heated skin. “I’ll hold it in place, and you make me come on your thigh.”
“Now that’s a deal I can live with!” He gently places the bell in her outstretched hand. “I’m going to make you come so hard that it’s going to feel like your heart will explode.” Brow furrowing, he pauses as he reaches for her hips. “Not that I want your heart to explode. I don’t want to hurt you. I just meant that I want to make you feel so good that you want to die.” He scrubs a hand down his face in exasperation. “You know I don’t want you to really die, though, right? I would never do anything to intentionally hurt-”
Her laughter echoes through the metal tubes and into his ears. Cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment, he glances up to see her shaking her head, the corners of her eyes crinkled with glee.
“You’re such a dork,” she giggles.
“Whatever,” he grumbles as she ruffles his hair. Grasping her waist, he quickly flips them over, and she lands on her back with a yelp. “We’ll see how much of a dork you think I am when I’m done with you.”
“Well then, Winchester, show me what you got.”
Accepting the challenge, Dean slots a leg between hers, pressing his thigh against her mound, as he pulls her toward him, growling, “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” When she gasps, he dips his head and catches her lower lip between his teeth, gently tugging as he pulls away. He doesn’t get far. Y/N’s warm fingers wrap around the back of his neck and pull him in for a heated kiss, not letting him go until they’re both gasping for air.
Feeling a little more in control of the situation again, Dean places a trail of wet kisses down her chest, grazing a taut nipple with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth to swirl his tongue around it. He continues to suckle until a moan escapes her lips, and he lets it go with a lewd pop. “Come on, baby, let me hear that beautiful heart.”
Y/N whimpers, fumbling with the stethoscope. As she places the chestpiece back over her heart, Dean latches onto her other breast, listening carefully to the changes in rhythm as he tongues the hardened nub and pebbled skin around it. He cups the other, fingers pinching and teasing until her breathing is as erratic as her heartbeat.
She’s grinding against his thigh now, writhing beneath him as he keeps his leg firmly pressed against her core. He lifts his gaze to see her swallowing hard around a moan, teeth buried in the tender flesh of her lower lip, holding back her cries. He nips at her tight bud one last time before pulling away just enough to see her better.
“Let me hear you, Y/N/N.” She shakes her head, teeth denting deeper into her skin, and it hits him that she’s trying to remain quiet so that he can hear her heart better. He ghosts his fingers down her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Dean smiles when he hears the low mewl that she can’t hold back. “Your heart is beating so hard and fast. It sounds so-” His fingers lightly brush over her stomach, the muscles tense beneath his touch, and her heart skips. “Oh, that’s… “ He places a lingering kiss on her shoulder, and his own heart flutters when he hears the little skitter of the beat again. “That’s awesome,” he breathes out, finally beginning to understand what she meant about the intimacy of it all and not being able to hide anything.
She grabs his forearm, nails digging into his skin, and presses her heels into the mattress, giving herself more leverage to grind against his tensed muscles. When her leg brushes against his stiff cock, he can’t help but groan. He’s so fucking hard it’s almost painful; he can’t wait to pound into her, feel her clench around him. He’s waited so long for her that if not for the throbbing beat vibrating in his ears, he might believe it was a dream. Another low groan involuntarily pushes past his lips. This time her leg slides against his sac as well as his dick, and it’s all he can do to not blow like a fucking teenager right then. The fingers around his arm tighten, and his attention is drawn back to her.
Damn, she looks so fucking gorgeous falling apart for him.
“That’s it, baby girl, take what you need.” He listens intently to the hammering of her heart, her pulse is racing now, and Dean becomes afraid that she might actually have a heart attack or something. He eases his leg back, and she whines. “Hey, you okay? Your heart is going crazy.”
Hand sliding along the damp skin of her arm, Dean searches her face for any signs of distress. She huffs out the word ‘more’ around a sharp breath.
“You’re sure?”
She nods, squeezing his arm again, and the fingers of her other hand tremble as she works to keep the diaphragm in place.
Dean kisses the tip of her nose. “Do you know how sexy you are? You’re so gorgeous coming undone for me.” He kisses her forehead, then her temple, and her hips buck up to meet the sticky skin of his thigh.
This time the friction of her soft skin against his shaft makes him growl, “Shit.” He grabs her thigh, stilling her movements and easing her lower body back down onto the bed. “Give me a sec, or this is going to end before we even get started.”
Chin tucked, he takes a few deep breaths, running his hand along her leg as he tries to slow the rush of blood through his veins. Y/N releases his arm and squirms beneath him. “I know, baby, just a couple more seconds, please.”
Looking up through his lashes, he’s met with sparkling eyes and a sinful smile. She’s clawing at the bedding, trying to reach something behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see the other item she had brought in earlier. He reaches back to bring it closer, toying with the clasp as he stares at the rolled strip of soft webbing in his hands. Recognition dawns slowly as the memory of seeing something similar in a hospital during a case creeps into his brain. It looks like a strap used for an electronic heart monitor.
The fabric uncoils as he lets it dangle from his fingers. “What do we have here?”
“I want to touch, too.”
Dean lifts the strap out of her reach as she grabs for it. “Oh, no. Right now, it’s all about you. We have plenty of time for everything else, later.”
The pout and sad doe-eyed look she throws at him almost makes him crack, but he spies the slight curl of her lips. “Aww, so adorable, but maybe you should take some lessons from Sammy.”
She swats his chest and grabs for the strap again, and he lifts it higher. “Jerk!”
Oh, fuck!
“Did you just call me a bitch?”
“Nooooo!” The arch of her brow sends a shot of fear through him so great that he thinks he’d rather be facing Lucifer at the moment than her glare. “Y- yeah.”
Wary eyes roam her face as he tries to assess the damage. “I- I didn’t mean it, though. It was just- just reflex.” Words tumble fast and furious from his lips as her face remains blank. “You know, all these years-, Sammy, and I-. Honestly, I would never-, I don’t think that-.” He can’t complete a sentence to save his soul and almost wishes that Hell would open up and swallow him whole right now.
When she remains silent, he tries his own set of puppy eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“I think you need to take some lessons from Sam.” Her voice is stern, but he catches the devilish gleam in her eye. “Maybe learn some manners and how to treat a woman properly.”
“Oh, honey. I don’t need any lessons from Sam on how to treat a woman.” He drops the strap, fingers tracing over her body until he reaches her most ticklish spot.
Y/N squirms beneath him, eyes bugging out as she realizes what he’s about to do. “Dean, no.”
“Dean, yes.” The burst of giggles that escapes her when his fingers dent into her flesh makes his heart soar. He doesn’t think he’s felt this happy since she first kissed him on the playground all those years ago. Her fists pound against his shoulders as she squeals, and he can’t stop the grin that broadens until his cheeks hurt. He doesn’t end his assault until she shoves at his biceps, pleading for him to have mercy.
“Dean, stop! I give, okay?”
“What was that?” he laughs. “I didn’t quite hear it.”
She shouts her response in between a giggle and a snort. “I give, you jackass. Please stop!”
Dean sits back on his legs, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Y/N huffs, throwing her head back on the pillow with eyes closed. Her chest heaves from the exertion, and he can’t help but stare in awe—the pink tinge and sheen of sweat that covers her skin, the perfect swell of her breasts and curve of her hips. The blood rushes straight to his dick at the sight of how wet she still is, knowing that it’s all for him. He becomes a little overwhelmed with it all again.
How does she do that? How does she bring every emotion he’s buried deep in his soul, crashing to the surface like a damn tidal wave? He dives forward, burying his face in her neck, sliding his arms beneath her to pull her close as he rolls to his side. She squeaks at the sudden connection but immediately wraps her arms around him, squeezing him back.
“I love you so much, Y/N/N.” His body shakes, heart thudding against his ribcage as he breathes the words into her skin—needing her to feel all the things he can’t find words to say.
“I love you too.”
The soft scratch of her nails carding through his hair helps him relax, and soon he’s nibbling at her ear and kissing the tender skin along the column of her neck. The gentle bite at the juncture of her neck and collarbone makes her hips buck, and he grunts at the pressure against his cock. She grips a handful of his ass and holds him in place while she slowly rocks against him.
“So, Winchester, are we going to see our deal through to completion?” Her hand slides between them, fingers wrapping around his girth, lazily stroking him. “Or are we moving onto bigger things?”
The warmth of her skin and the firm, steady glide of her fingers almost sends him over the edge. He quickly grips her wrist, halting any more movement. With a tap of his finger against the vein in her wrist, she loosens her grip, and he pulls her hand away, bringing it to his lips to kiss each knuckle.
Y/N hums when he nudges a leg between hers and rolls to his back with her on top of him. He scoots up the bed into a semi-sitting position amongst the pillows, bringing her with.
She bows her back, grinding hard against him. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Dean grasps her arms and pulls her forward. “Hold on. We had a deal.” He picks up the stethoscope from where it had become dislodged and fallen on the bed during their playful struggle.
Y/N smiles, reaching for the strap and securing it around her chest while he puts the stethoscope back on. Picking up the chestpiece, she slides it underneath the band, and he nods as the enchanting thrum resonates in his ears.
Her heart rate had slowed considerably, but when he wraps his fingers around her hips once again, it kicks and continues to climb as he slowly guides her along the length of his thigh.
“Damn, you’re still so wet for me.” Wanting to test a theory, he adds. “Did you dream about sitting in my lap, riding my leg?” Her heart skips and flutters, and he grins. “Did you hump your pillow, wishing it was me? Wishing it was as hard as my thick, muscled thigh? Did you scream my name into the darkness of your room?” He gently bounces his leg and chuckles when she gasps.
She presses a hand over his heart, fingers tapping his skin in time with his pulse. Her heartbeat is racing again, but this time he knows she needs more. He flattens a hand on her stomach with his thumb lightly circling her clit; the other continues to help guide her movement.
His whole body jerks when her fingers encircle his dick, and she cries out when the hard muscle of his leg meets her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her thumb brushes over his tip, picking up the moisture leaking from the slit, and spreads it over his length. “Fu- fuck.”
He should stop her, wants to stop her, doesn’t want it to end so soon. He’s definitely not going to last much longer at this rate, and neither is she from the sounds of her thudding heart, but he’s on sensory overload, unable to think clearly. Fingers curl into the skin of his chest; her grip tightens around his shaft, quickening the pace, his dick throbs under her touch. Her legs begin to tremble, making his fingers dent deeper into her flesh. He cries out when she brushes her thumb over the small v of his frenulum.
Shit, he couldn’t stop now if he wanted to.
“Wanna hear you scream my name.” His thumb brushes roughly against her clit, while simultaneously pressing her into the thick meat of his thigh. Her entire body tenses, back arching as she finally lets go, shouting his name. Nails dig into his chest, fingers tremble around his shaft but still their upward movement; he can feel her throb against him, her thighs clenching around his as warm slick drips over his skin into the sheets below. Heart still thudding hard and fast in his ears, she slumps forward as she comes down. He slips an arm around her to pull her closer, but her hand pushes against his chest.
Wiggling her eyebrows at him, he watches as she readjusts the diaphragm’s position under the strap and leans forward, the tubing now out of the way. “Now I wanna hear you scream my name.”
Dean moves to stop her but then hears the distinct thud when her lips seal around the head of his cock and the steady uptick of her pulse when she runs her tongue along his length. “Damn, that feels good.”
He leans back against the pillows, allowing himself to momentarily relax into the sensations, the sweet smell of her hair, the strong, fast-paced staccato of her heart, the warm, wet heat of her mouth.
The feel of her fingers massaging his balls and the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat startles him from his blissful reverie. “Babe, stop.” Dean gently pushes at her shoulder, trying to ease her off him, which only seems to spur her on. “I’m gonna come if you do-”
Y/N buries her nose in the coarse hairs at the base of his dick, relaxing the muscles in her throat. He hears her soft gag as she gently tugs at his sac, and Dean comes roaring her name, just like she wanted, a hand gripping her shoulder, the other fisted in the sheets. He comes hard and long, cock pulsing in her mouth, and she greedily drinks everything down.
It feels like his high is never going to end, the intensity of it a little frightening. When he finally begins to soften in her mouth, she swipes her tongue around him and then releases him with a quick peck to his tip. Sitting back on her heels, his leg still between hers, she smiles like the cat that ate the canary. Holding the diaphragm, she releases the clasp on the strap and tosses the material onto the bed, then removes the stethoscope from his ears, placing it next to the strap. Dean instantly misses the melody of her heart and pouts.
“What’s the matter, babe?” She cups his face and strokes her thumb along his cheek. “You upset because I made you come?”
“I asked you to stop,” he whines.
“So… let me get this straight.” Lips pursed, she crosses her arms in front of her. “You can tempt and tease me and make me come however you want, but I can’t do the same to you?”
Dean sputters, not quite sure how to respond. “W- well, my doctor seemed a little tense; I just wanted to help take the edge off.”
“Hmm… Well, I thought my patient needed to relax a bit too.”
Dean laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess I did. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”
Y/N laughs as she scoots forward and leans into him. “I told you it could get pretty intense.”
“Yeah, well, you know, my recovery time ain’t what it used to be, though.” She nuzzles into his neck, straddling his lap, and he wraps his arms around her.
Her fingers trace random patterns along his collarbone and down his chest. “Well, as your physician, trust me when I tell you that I don’t think it will be an issue.”
“Hmm, we’ll see.”
But as she sucks at the pulse in his neck, her fingers tug at his nipple, and Dean’s surprised to feel a slight twinge of movement between his legs.
Y/N smiles against his throat.
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TYWMH Tags: @screechingartisancashbailiff @compresshischest09 @blushreads @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @deans-baby-momma @debs95love @siospins @toscahammerheart @magssteenkamp @ariesbabe1993 @supernatural-love14
Dean Tags: @crashdevlin @wayward-and-worn @weepingwillowphoenix @akshi8278 @michellethetvaddict
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exploding-carrots · a month ago
I’ve been wanting to draw or write out my ‘future’ Bottom ideas for a while but haven’t gotten around to it. So here’s a long post of some head canons and a general story line of them vaguely developing as people at some point set after the live shows. If anything this is just sort of my personal AU for the characters getting together. Mostly focused on the progression of Richie and Eddies relationship and my thoughts on both of them being trans
- They’re both trans, (a lot of Ades characters give me trans dudes vibes but that is 70% me wanting to time travel and body swap w the man) Eddie is a bi trans dude (who medically transitioned young, but is not necessarily out as either) and Richie is a closeted/repressed bi trans woman who begins to come to terms w it during the whole island era
- Richie is also intersex, which while yeah is sort of canon in a mean way, is sort of important to me for the character 🤭 However she is not aware of the fact
- Eddie is dyslexic and has ADHD which both contribute to him struggling on and off (which was really just a gag they went with when funny) with reading/writing depending on how well he can focus on it at any given time (example: the Edies Bra sign vs the grave stone). I am not even going to attempt to say what is going on w Richie but the woman is a mess of unresolved issues and trauma complications
- After everything they go through in the live shows they do somehow make it back to the flat which is unexplainably the exact way they left it.
- Every single joke about Richie going off and fucking dudes from the live show is taken as fact. It is the most poorly kept secret amongst the cast. They literally do not talk about it unless Eddie is trying to make a point or piss off Richie
- Eventually Eddie IS trying to piss off Richie and does bring up everything about her sex life and the clothes, and... well everything else. After a ridiculous fight it somehow turns into an almost semi-serious conversation. Eddie makes the assumption that Richie is gay and Richie counters with the fact that she is genuinely interested in women but it’s a hell of a lot easier to get attention from specific types of men. Gets some wheels turning in both of their heads
- Personality wise they never really calm down, but they do start to slow down a little bit as it takes them longer and longer to recover from their fights. Obviously there is still the odd dart to the forehead or gentle push down the stairs but the ridiculous games and completions they make up take center stage
- they get weed at some point (Dave Hedgehog and Spudgun seems like a feasible source, because let’s be honest if Richie and Eddie tried to buy weed it would not work) that leads to all sorts of embarrassment because Eddie gets crossfaded as all get out and starts hitting on Richie. Which while having a precedent in their history (I mean, the first episode gives us that right away) takes on a new sort of meaning once the concept of bisexuality has been rolling around in their heads. Nothing particularly saucy happens at this point Bc they are high, drunk, and old but all of the actual acknowledgement of feelings start to really develop after this point
- in an attempt to do something with her time Richie picks up sewing and picks up where she left off with the wrap skirt and rubber underwear she made on the island. Starts to really develop the little wardrobe she wears when she’s alone. It’s a mix of the same awful button up shirts she always wears and some dresses and skirts along with a couple pairs of sexier (for Richie at least) under garments
- eventually Eddie comes home while Richie is still in her feminine clothing. Eddies Reaction is different from the first time he saw her dressed up that way since now there is a precedent. Eddies approach is much more “playful teasing” and fake surprise than it was previously.
- Slowly Richie starts dressing up around the flat more and more often as opposed to just when alone. Eddie ramps up with the pet names and husband/house wife dynamic they already had going on.
- THE MOMENT is when Eddie is leaving the flat to go to the bar and there is an ‘accidental’ kiss on the cheek along with his usual good byes. Eddie realizes what has happened immediately and bolts before Richie can say anything. Richie has a moment of “teehee that was nice” still in her little fucking house wife head space before it catches up w her.
- Richie panics, paces around the flat, gets changed like 8 times, cooks dinner, throws it away, takes it out of the trash, paces more, breaks like 8 things, and essentially just fluctuates between “Ooo Eddie fancies me” to “oh fuck the bastard is making fun of me again” to “it was an accident and Eddie is going to make it into a fight” back to “ooo Eddie fancies Me~”
- eventually Eddie comes home, pissed to hell and back way later than he’d normally come home. Richies passed out on the couch. Eddie wakes her up by pushing her over on the couch so he can sit. Eddie says something along the lines of “I’m fucking drunk so I’m only going to say this one” before saying some incomprehensible drunken rambling and pulling Richie into an awkward full kiss. It’s a nice moment for maybe about 5 seconds before he stands up again, pulls a pint out of his jacket, chugs it and says something about drunkenly passing out before doing just that across the coffee table.
- Richie just sort of gawks at Eddie sleeping across the table before giddily tossing a blanket over him and heading off to actually go to bed.
- relationship wise this really just sort of introduces a sexual/physical dynamic to their relation while ramping up their camp version of domestic life
- it’s Spudgun and Dave Hedgehog who actually say something to Eddie about it. They’ve always been in on the “oh look, it’s Eddies terrifying wife” thing. Probably only actually say something about it after the 2nd or 3rd actual display of physical affection they witness. It’s more of one of them asking Eddie if Richie really is his wife (in that half aware sort of way they observe things). This alone doesn’t change much, but it does takes a lot to get through to any of these repressed bastards
- Richie grows accustomed to the more feminine/soft pet names that Eddie uses for her. At one point Eddie uses more traditionally masculine terms which sets off “oh actually I am not a fan of that” in Richies head and leads her to asking Eddie to not refer to her that way. Leads to an awkward half coming out on Richies part. Eddie does genuinely switch up how he refers to Richie at this point and her gender just sort of becomes an silent fact that they both respect. Everyone else sort of knows them as those weirdos who have some sort of common law marriage going on and it’s not really questioned. This is the point where Richie starts to earnestly medically transition without really saying to much about, canonically she has been on estrogen pills before (even if it was a ‘mistake’)
- End game is essentially just them being casual about their identities and relationships in a unspoken sort of “well that’s just how it is” way that naturally sort of bleeds into a the other aspects of their lives.
- Additional note on Eddie being trans: Richie is already vaguely aware of this fact Bc obviously they’ve been seen what the other is working with at one point or another but the fact that she is unaware that she herself is intersex and has a skewed sort of idea about genitals and peoples bodies Richie genuinely does not think about it all too much. Eddie assumes that she knows, especially as they get older and casually refers to being trans (in my mind probably during the entire “Edwina” disguise thing. I imagine Eddie wearing the dress came down to the clothing size and some off hand comment about him “having experience”, which is total shit Bc even before he transitioned Eddie never presented that way). That’s probably around the point that things start to click in Richies head about Eddies identity and she starts comparing and contrasting Eddie to other ppl and such.
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so... I tried salvia
Yup, I finally did it. I smoked something for the first time. After a lifetime of not being a smoker, I inhaled that shit. It wasn’t easy, I coughed, a lot. I still don’t like smoke. But what I do like is salvia. Damn. People aren’t fucking around when they say that salvia is strong... and weird as hell.
My first experience with salvia was actually chewing it, the taste sucked hardcore and I really didn’t find the effects to be strong enough (granted, I only used a small amount to test how my mind and body would react to the new substance), it went well enough but I wanted to move to the next level: smoking.
It was a few days to a week later that I was finally able to try smoking it, and I had to look up videos on how to even use a bong. I had this tiny cheap thing that I bought off of Amazon because I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for in a bong. I started by putting some plain leaf in the bowl and smoked it, it was truly awful from a physical perspective. Mentally, I definitely felt... different. I tried a few more bowls and closed my eyes and in my head I got some interesting faint 3D tunnels formed out of static. They were spinning. But I also got an image of some evil face grinning maniacally (tbh it looked kind of like the jerma sus meme but it wasn’t super funny because I’ve gotten an evil grinning figure before, off morning glory seeds)
I wanted to smoke more but there was another person in the house, she was going to leave for a few hours soon though so I waited until after she left to continue my experiment. I put on a long YouTube compilation of music from one of my favorite artists. I smoked a little bit more plain leaf but I quickly decided I wanted something more intense. I have a gram of both 10x and 20x, so I got the 10x out and put a pinch of it it into the bowl, lit it, and decided to put my mind into the hands of this new substance. I wasn’t expecting much... but then it hit me. Yeah, it hit me and I was pretty amazed by how quickly I went from mostly sober, to diving into deep hallucinogenic water. It was like DXM and nitrous all at the same time but way stronger than either one.
I kept pulling my hood over my eyes to block the light out, and I took my glasses off, which felt amazing and natural, like scratching an itch and that it was exactly what I needed to do at that moment. I pulled my hood over my entire face but I kept thinking I didn’t want to somehow make it hard to breathe. My entire vision morphed into this three-lobed formation of the little bit I could actually see, repeated on continuous lines in a clover shape. I felt a little overwhelmed, like I had done something that I wasn’t really supposed to do, since I told the other person I wouldn’t try 10x by myself. But at that point I could feel myself sink back, and I felt like I was on a boat in the ocean being rocked gently by waves. I moved my hands back and forth in front of me, mimicking the feeling.
At the end there were these faint 2D panels with these cartoon ape characters looking back at me, like I was supposed to follow them. It started to fade and I opened my eyes, sat up, and the first thing that came into my mind was some nonsense about “hairy gorilla soda bottles”. After it faded a bit more, I looked at the bong just thinking “holy shit!” I felt really good but it was way more than anything I’d experienced before that point. I knew immediately that I wanted to do more.
The second time around, when I started to enter I got a faint vision of a purple cartoon hippo looking over a book that was also a farm with a sunrise, I was a part of a class but I kept disturbing the class by moving around too much. The vision changed and became a lot more vivid, there were these purple and white teddy bears made of hollow rolling tubes, and I was one of the tubes. The tubes were rolling but also moving like on a conveyor belt or something. I was going to get pulled into the “inside” of the teddy bear and I was annoyed by this because I knew it was going to be too dark to see anything in there, and I wanted my “outside” time to be longer.
After I was sucked in there was this version of a house made of those rolling tubes, it was flat, and two of my family members were in front of it, they were also made of tubes and their arms, legs, and bodies were super thin and featureless, I don’t think they had distinct faces either, and they were both reaching into the middle of the front of the house with their “hands” touching. I just wanted to go inside the house. Then I was on this pinched oval type thing, I could see the whole thing and one part looked closer than the other, where there were repetitions of the room I was in, linked to this bicycle chain structure, with gaps between them, on a black background. This was all I could see, but I was also on/in it and it was my what I felt my face was. It kept looping over and over and there was this word/sound/concept that kept repeating and it was really frustrating for some reason because I had to keep repeating this loop. I felt stuck during this part and didn't know when it was gonna stop.
The final scene was this neighborhood of cartoony 2D houses made of thick, round, rubber looking tubes. They were soft and squishy looking. There were families in the houses and grey metal doors underneath each one. I called this place Book Land because it reminded me of a children's book, where everything is gentle and pure and bright. I talked to the dad of the first house and he told his wife about how I wasn’t able to get through because I had to pee too much, but my door was open a little bit. I asked him if he could see me and he said no, he had never seen me even though he knew about me before because the door is open sometimes. There was a close-up of a cartoon purple kid, who looked like from a child’s drawing, but made of the round tubes. She was smiling and looked happy. I was able to open the door enough to get my hand through, it was all purple and blobby and made of tubes like everything else. It stretched across all the houses and I felt like I was doing some kind of educational lesson about sharing “my kind” with the people of this world.
After I came out of it I had to piss really, really bad, so I rushed to the bathroom as quickly as I could, I’m not sure if I just drank too much water while trying to smoke or what, but it was way more intense than usual for me. In the bathroom I was still pretty in it because I kept thinking about Book Land like it was a real place, and I wasn’t sure if me using the bathroom was real or just a particularly normal/realistic part of the trip.
I went back to my smoking spot to go in one last time. I knew I was reaching my limit, though, so I didn’t want to go overboard. Very shortly after smoking it, I got up to pee, I don’t even think I had to at this point, I think I was just unconsciously repeating something I’d done several times before. I kept thinking about Book Land and I also felt like I was in a weird cycle and that everyday life was just a weird cycle and getting up to pee was a part of it. I could see repeating rainbow fractals on the carpet as I walked to the bathroom and I was super happy about it and thought it was totally normal. I remember when I was in the bathroom I kept trying to talk to myself, but it was pretty much only mumbling and partial words that came out.
When I was done I sat down but got up again right after to look at the carpet, because I could see this 3D simple three-lobed snowflake like pattern repeated on the carpet wherever I looked. I kept moving around to see it at different angles and it looked totally, convincingly 3D no matter where I looked. I loved this to no end and just kept looking at the patterns for several minutes. I thought that I should put my glasses on to see the fractals better, but when I did they simply disappeared. At one point an advertisement came on since the video with the music I was listening to had ended, and I became really angry and paused it, saying “NO!” really loudly. I thought to myself that “the children in Book Land cannot be exposed to corporate propaganda  like advertisements. The children in Book Land can only be exposed to pure information.”
After that, I admired the carpet patterns a bit more, then I wanted to go outside. As I went to go outside, I kept looking at the floor the whole time, searching for more patterns, and when the flooring switched from carpet to a flat, wood patterned floor the fractals disappeared. So I was a little annoyed at this and continued making my way outside. I saw one of the cats and thought she was cute, but she didn’t have any fractals on her so I wasn’t super interested in that moment. Then I saw a clover leaf and said “Yes!! There it is!! That’s it right there!!” and sat down on the step to admire this leaf, which really did resemble the three-lobed vision from the start of my adventure, and it looked like the patterns I saw on the carpet as well. I sat there looking at the leaf and looking around, thinking to myself as the salvia wore off more and more.
Over the next couple hours I sat down, thinking about my trip and how intense everything was. I felt really good and at that point I knew exactly why people said that salvia was weird as hell. I kept thinking about the visuals, the feelings, and about Book Land. I hastily wrote some notes down on my computer, which I referred to when writing this, as despite the typos and weird wording, it had the most raw translation of my experience that I could get. In all honesty, I felt pretty accomplished for trying something new and not shrimping out over smoking for the first time, or shying away from how daunting salvia can seem. I knew what I was getting into before I started and I wasn’t taken by surprise at any point.
I know I’m going to try it again at some point, but I’m definitely not going to rush my way into it and push myself too far too fast. I have a huge amount of respect for this drug and the last thing I want to do is screw myself over by getting cocky.
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fireemblems24 · a month ago
I made a comment on youtube about how something edelgard said to dimitri near the end of the game was wrong and a (apparently) known “edelstan” came in from reddit and called me a horny for abusive, mentally unstable men. the thread is still going with hundreds of replies. this was almost 2 years ago. I don’t even use reddit and I know it’s really fucking toxic there.
also the casual ablism of that dude insisting that dimitri could never be a good leader isn’t lost on me. trying to justify imperialism and genocide is another fun and cool thing I see whenever I catch a glimpse of that thread.
2 Years???? At least please tell me it’s new people arguing. Kudos to you. No one is still arguing over a comment two years later if what you said didn’t hit right. 
Sorry you had to deal with the abuse. It seems there’s a section of the fandom that enjoys berating women who enjoy Dimitri’s character. Sadly, this really isn’t new in fandom, or anywhere really. Name one thing associated with women as an audience that isn’t dragged through the mud - YA fiction, fanfiction, boy bands, fashion? All symbols of “shallowness.” It’s infuriating. Just let people enjoy what they enjoy. There’s a very easy line between critiquing fiction you don’t like and maliciously attacking real people. 
I also will never in my life understand why people try to white wash characters. Edelgard is an imperialist. That doesn’t mean you can’t like her. I love characters who murder their families, sell hardcore drugs, and other awful things. Hell, I’m very fond of two little imperialists myself! It’s okay. It’s fiction. What’s not okay is when you start going “actually, this is good because XXX” or mind-boggling “my fav is a perfect little angel because XXX.” Like, doesn’t that make them boring as hell? I love Shigure from Fruit Baskets (for ex), but my God I’d never argue he’s not a little problematic shit and I wouldn’t enjoy him nearly as much if he wasn’t. I’m not going to even touch “justifying” genocide. I can at least see where a misguided person might convince themselves Imperialism is okay (at least if they are the Imperialist. Strangely, all the people who think that way never place themselves in the spot of the person being conquered or the layman soldier asked to die for some spoiled noble’s ideals and still arguing it’s good. One of the world’s greatest mysteries for sure). But genocide? God. I can only hope these are high school edgelords that grow up and cringe at their younger selves.
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migrant-mayhem · a month ago
Accidents Happen [Sans & Reader]
Rating: Teen and up
No Archive Warnings Apply
Pairing: Sans the Skeleton & Reader (platonic, vaguely antagonistic)
Fandom: Undertale
Tags: some bullshit i wrote as a dare, sans being irresponsible, swearing, car accidents, concerned kidnapping, or kidnapping performed out of concern for your own wellbeing
Language: English
Published 2020-04-12. 1670 Words. Summary: You’re just having a nice little snooze when your window breaks. And a skeleton rolls in. And now you don’t know what to do.
I told my sibling i wanted to start an AO3 account with no rules or regulations or quality standards so I could write and post anything without feeling bad, and asked them for a request, that I'd write anything, even the most ridiculous stuff. They said "Anything?" I said "Yeah hit me with it." "Sans breaks in your window at 3am asmr."
and here we are. (Additional Notes at the end)
A horn blares.
Lights dance on the back of your eyelids.
And then an actual fucking truck runs through your fucking wall.
You gasp, sputtering, leaping out of your dreams and into your worst nightmares. It’s a good thing there’s nothing valuable on that wall because, like you mentioned, it’s been replaced by a fucking truck . Your heart hammers painfully against your sternum, your arms shaking as they support your weight, too weak to hold you up but too stiff to let you lay back down on the bed. You mindlessly observe the way the glass reflects the light of the headlights, and stare blankly into the driver’s seat.
The driver’s door opens, scratching more of the plaster of the wall off and onto your dingy, sixties-style carpet.
“ Ah shit… ” the driver says, still obscured by the door and the white spots from the headlights, “ I really blew it this time, huh…? Heh heh. ”
He ‘heh’ed nervously, in comic sans. You suppose you were scared shitless enough to hear comic sans, huh?
Apparently, after that moment the whole terror of the event catches up with you, and you start hyperventilating before passing the fuck out.
You awake in an unfamiliar location. You weren’t harmed, but you have an awful crook in your neck. You open your eyes, head a little foggy after the oxygen deprivation.
“Ah, Good morning, sleeping beauty. How are you feeling? You weren’t hurt, were you?”
You sit up and stare at the skeleton. He grins sheepishly—or maybe it’s just the way his jaw sits—as glowing white orbs study you from where they sit in his sockets.
“First of all, it’s the middle of the damn night. Second of all, didn’t you just crash into my FUCKING house? Third—” you break off to study your surroundings before confirming that, no, you are not in your house anymore, “— did you fucking KIDNAP me? ”
You growl. The skeleton rattles in his boots—uh, slippers?
“I-I mean, I couldn’t just leave you in that house all alone! You passed out, and there was a huge hole in the wall—!” he starts, teeth chattering with anxiety.
“Speaking of, what the hell were you thinking?? ”
“Ah! I’m sorry, okay? There was a deer, I couldn’t kill a deer!”
“But,” he says, bones no longer rattling, that cocky glint in his eye— uh, socket, “I didn’t, therefore, it’s a win-win-win!”
You snarl, about to begin screaming again, but chew the inside of your lip instead. Sure, you can play this game with him. Whatever.
“ is this a ‘win-win-win,’ pray tell.”
“Well,” He says, cheekily—zygomatically?—turning the corner. You can still see him: the stout skeleton is in basketball shorts, a fur-lined hoodie, and bunny slippers, standing in his kitchen in front of the microwave. “You live, the deer lives, and I get to live with a clean conscience! So yeah, a win-win-win!”
The microwave beeps. You stare, dumbfounded and infuriated, and can practically feel your face turning red with the boiling blood under your skin. “Also, it is the morning,” The skeleton continues, coming back into the room—his own living room, you assume due to the presence of a coffee table and the couch you were laying on—with a mug. “It’s exactly 3 in the morning, so good morning.”
“One mug of hot cocoa for le madame ,” He sits the mug down in front of you, giving an exaggerated wink with eyelids you didn’t believe or needed to know he had. “Osteoporosis!”
You have to fight every fiber in your body not to take the hot cocoa and throw it in his face. The only thing stopping you is that it smells really fucking enticing for some swiss-miss-type microwave cocoa.
“I’m— oh my god. I can’t— this can’t—” You seethe, head falling into your hands. You rub your temples, thinking, maybe if I press hard enough, I’ll die .
There’s a windy sigh. “Hey, I’m really sorry about your house. Whatever you need to cover the damages, consider it yours.”
You want to be bitter, but you can feel the guilt dripping off him like grease. But you aren’t just the kind to forgive and forget, either.
“Fine. I’ll need at least 5,000 dollars.”
“ W-What??”
“At least .”
“B-But-- can I give you 1,000 and buy you a coffee or something?”
“ What? Since when would $1,000 be reasonable?!”
“Five. Thousand. Up front.”
“H-How about $3,000 and I help you fix it? It’s way cheaper to DIY that kind of stuff, anyway!”
“I don’t see a contractor license in this house anywhere.”
“$3,500! Please! That’s all I can afford!”
He’s rattling. And… looks like he’s sweating? How the fuck did he do that? It doesn’t matter. He was being honest. You can’t just rob the dude blind, but at the same time you were just barely making mortgage payments for that damn house.
You sigh.
“Alright, alright. Let’s do this. You’d better be damn reliable because I don’t exactly wanna call someone to fix it. So if we pool our assets, and I collect all my insurance money, we’ll fix it as cheaply as possible.”
The dude visibly and audibly rattles in relief.
You kinda do too. You just want this thing over with.
“I'll need $2,500 up front to buy materials. We can discuss further costs later.” You sigh and take a sip of cocoa. “This is really good, thank you,” you offer quietly.
“Hey, no problem. It's the least I could do.”
“Yeah, I'd say so,” you snark half-heartedly.
The two of you discuss plans to rebuild while you finish the mug.
You learn his name is Sans, and that he’s fairly experienced with building things—at least, more than the average Joe. He had been coming home from dropping off his little brother at a sleepover, and it was quite a drive—two hours both ways. You were going to ask why the hell his little brother was going to a sleepover at 1 in the morning but you aren't exactly in the mood to probe a random stranger about his, his brother's, and his friend's life choices.
You look at the clock. It’s a cat clock, which threw you for a loop at first, but it reads 4:06. You sigh.
“I need to go to work in 3 hours…”
“Aw, geez. Sorry, I won't keep you up much longer, then.”
“I'll need to get back to my place…”
“Hey, you rest up. I'll get you back to your place by 6:15, so you can be ready and out by 7. Hows that sound?”
You mull the thought over. It sounds pretty damn good to your sleep-deprived brain, so you nod.
“Alright. But you better be up.”
“Of course!” He says cheerily. “You can count on me!”
When you wake up, it’s 6:30.
You throw the throw blanket Sans gave you on the floor, almost tripping over the coffee table on your way down to the bedroom you saw Sans enter two and a half hours earlier. You bang loudly on the door.
“Hey!! Hey!! ” You shout. You hear a thump and a rattle and a groan. You open the door to find Sans on the floor, groggily looking at his alarm clock.
“Ugh. Aw, shit.”
“C'mon!! I gotta go to work!!” You frantically remind him.
“I don't wanna…” He whines from the floor.
You throw a miscellaneous pair of pants at the skeleton. “Too bad! You’re the one who kidnapped me, so take me back to my fuckin house!”
He huffs before rolling out of his sheets and putting the sweatpants over his plaid boxers. How those even stay on his pelvis is a mystery to you, but there you are. He grabs his keys and rubs the sleep out of his—uh, sockets, you guess—and out the door you go.
There was dents, scratches, and plaster left on the hood of his otherwise older blue truck, and it looks like it had been through the mill even before it had acquainted itself with your house.
You climb in the passenger’s side while the skeleton crawls clumsily into the driver’s. You’re a little afraid to get in, with him being in such a groggy state. Then again, he crashed into the side of your fucking house last night, so you should be afraid to get in a car with him period .
But, you still had to get to work on time.
He closes the car door, you tighten the seat belt as tight as you can, and you two are off.
It is only a ten minute drive, so that’s good. When you pull up to your house, you don’t even bother fiddling with the lock, instead opting to jump through the truck-sized hole in the wall. You hear a hiss as you did so and scream. A soccer ball sized furball rockets out of your room.
“Was that a fucking racoon ?” You ask.
“Yeah, looked like it.” Sans sighs.
You’re half tempted to flog him then and there but know the clock is still moving. You instead growl angrily, grabbing your uniform from the closet and dodge the fucking rabbit family that had decided that was a cosy place to sleep for the night while you do so. You rush to the bathroom, brush your teeth and hair and put on deodorant while fumbling with the uniform, and are done in a record 3 minutes. You make your way to the garage, fetching your keys and wallet from a tray and take a quick survey of the house. Everything looked in place, which meant no one had stolen anything. Yet.
With that thought you pace out into the garage, getting in your car and driving off. You wave to Sans, the blight of your life, and he has the audacity to give you a thumbs up. You fight the urge to flip him off and speed to work.
this was supposed to be a one shot x reader but i've matured since my x reader days and couldn't bring myself to make the characters fall in love with the wave of a hand. I thought I might continue it later but I'm not even in the undertale fandom enough to justify it, so here it is as a dumb, fun little one-shot.
I want to emphasize I wasn't ever an active participant in the undertale fandom so if Sans feels characterized incorrectly compared to other undertale fanfiction know that I had no baseline just the basics I saw from my husband's playthrough of the game.
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