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#backrub is a slur now
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Stray Kids Reaction ~ He’s Drunk And You Have To Pick Him Up
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⤜ WORD COUNT: 2.6K altogether
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2023
⤜MASTERLIST
CHAN: It wasn't often that Chan drank any alcohol so when you'd gotten the call to come and pick your drunken boyfriend up from the dorms you weren't at all surprised. The boys had informed you that it hadn't taken many drinks to get the leader drunk which you put down to the fact he hadn't drunk much in his years of being an idol.
"I love you," Chan said as you continued to drive him home, you let out a small giggle at the thought and glanced at him.
"Yeah? How much?" You quizzed, pulling into the driveway as Chan hummed and hared over what it was he was going to say and you shut down the car. 
"Soooooooo much," He slurred a little and you laughed, slowly getting out of the car and rushing around to his side so you could let him out. You'd activated the child lock since he was trying to open the doors and windows on the way home,
"If you love me, does that mean I can have a back rub tomorrow when you're feeling all better?" You teased, running your hands through his hair as he drunkenly nodded his head and laughed to himself.
"All the backrubs you want," You smirked a little and helped him through the front door of your home, taking him straight to the bathroom.
"Why here?" He frowned, but you simply handed him a glass of water and some painkillers and smiled warmly at him.
"You're probably going to be sick and when that happens I'd rather you do it in our toilet." You smiled, sitting on the floor across from him and watching as he took the tablets and downed the water from the cup.
"You're going to stay?" He seemed whiney in his drunken state and you loved that. It wasn't often you got to see Chan so whiney toward you and you were eating up every moment you had.
"Of course baby, I won't leave you alone." You smiled, dragging out a blanket and putting it over your legs.
"This is why I love you, y-you're so good to me," He started to tear up but before he could say anything else his head was in the toilet and you leaned forward, slowly rubbing his back as he threw up the contents of his stomach.
"I love you too baby," You whispered softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.
MINHO:
The boys had called you when Minho had gotten a bit too much for them to be able to handle, he wasn't a bad drunk or anything he was just a little loud tonight. From the videos, the guys had sent you it seemed the alcohol had brought out a louder version of your boyfriend,
"Baby, will you please get in the car..." You held the door open for Minho who was shaking his head at you, Jeongin was trying to push Minho inside but it appeared not to be working. Minho shook his head and did his best to stop Jeongin from putting him into the car.
"Don't call me that, I have a girlfriend." He cried out, your whole body heating as you looked at him it was cute that he was willing to defend your relationship while he was drunk. Even if he was only defending it to you at least he was more than likely to do it to anyone else that made a move too.
"Your girlfriend is the one trying to get you home," Jeongin whispered, a deep blush filling your boyfriend's cheeks as he looks at you the realisation that you were hitting him as he started to smile brightly.
"Beautiful!" He cried out, leaning over toward you and kissing your cheeks, sloppy kisses lining your face as you let out a small groan at the feel of them. You loved Minho to the world but you didn't exactly like feeling his sloppy kisses on your skin.
"Now will you get in the car?" You quizzed, looking at him as his cheeks began to burn even more nodding at you as he lifted your hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. 
"For a princess? Of course," He slowly slid into the back seat and you let out a small sigh as you shut the door. You put your attention back on the guys who were all laughing and had their phones out, this was going to be a moment Minho would never live down.
"Has he been like this all night?" You laughed, looking to Jeongin who seemed to be relieved that Minho was now out of his hair.
"A little, but I think it's because he mixed different types of drinks." He chuckles nervously and you nodded, glancing at Minho who appeared to be getting restless in the car, so you waved bye to the boys and headed home.
CHANGBIN:
It seemed alcohol made Changbin louder than usual and you found it rather cute. What was supposed to be a nice night in with the boys had turned into some drinking games and now you were being called to collect your boyfriend.
"You want to know a secret?" Changbin asked as you got him into bed. It had become clear when you arrived at the dorms you had little to no chance of getting him back to your own place so he was staying here with you tonight at the dorms.
"Go on," You giggled, making sure he was warm enough in the bed before sitting down on the edge of it and looking at him. You gently took your hand and began to comb it through his hair,
"I'm writing a song about yn," Your hand stilled as you stared down at him, your heart pounding at the thought of him writing about you.
"You are?" Your voice cracked ever so slightly as you tried not to let the tears go that you were holding back at the thought of it all.
"Yeah, but you can't tell her. It's a secret," He hummed, closing his eyes as he snuggled down into the sheets and let out a small whine.
"What's wrong?" You quizzed, running your hand over his cheek as he whined again pouting out his bottom lip at the action.
"I miss her, I miss Yn." You bit back a laugh before kissing his forehead, his face burning up as he slowly opened his eyes to look at you.
"I'm right here baby," Before you had time to process what was happening you were being wrapped in his arms under the covers and pulled into a tight embrace.
HYUNJIN:
You'd gotten the call at 3 am to come and get Hyunjin from the bar and after a bunch of convincing you'd finally managed to get inside the crowded bar and make your way to the VIP section.
"Chan!" You called out, waving him over. You might have been able to convince the guy at the front door that you needed to get inside but you knew there was no way of getting past the guards that were at the VIP door. You were dressed in some PJs so you were pretty surprised you'd gotten this far.
"You can let her in," The guard stepped out of the way and you stepped over the small velvet rope and saw Hyunjin sitting at a table. From the way Chan had sounded on the phone you expected to find Hyunjin in a drunken messy state but he seemed pretty well kept from where you were standing. 
"I thought he was being a nuisance?" You laughed a little and Chan smirked, slowly moving you closer to the table. Hyunjin was surrounded by girls but all he could talk about was you, he kept telling them all about you and how much he loved you.
"I swear, I'm going to get her to come out one night and meet everyone. I'm sure you'll love her as much as I do." Your body heated at the thought of him speaking about you like this and you giggled, walking over and sitting on the table directly in front of him.
"Did I just wish you to be here and it came true?!" He gasped loudly, taking your face in both of his hands and turning your head toward the light as if he was checking you were real.
"Of course baby. Now It's my wish that we go home," You smiled warmly at the girls who looked rather relieved to not have to listen to your rambling boyfriend anymore.
"Home? Lets go," He closed his eyes tightly and when he opened them he appeared to be frowning,
"I thought we would go home." He whines a little as you stand up, carefully taking his hand in your own and helping him to his feet.
"We have to drive, come on prince charming. Let's head home," You giggled, dragging him past the boys who were all starting to tease him ever so slightly.
JISUNG:
When Jisung was sober he wouldn't dare make a move on you but it appeared drunken Jisung was very charismatic and flirty with you. The boys had called you a little over an hour ago to come to the dorms to take Jisung home with you but he'd failed to let you leave.
"Come on, sit on my lap and give me a kiss," He winked at you, his lips turning up at the corner and smirking at you as he saw you getting shy about all of it.
"You're adorable when you get shy," He lifted his hand to your cheek, gently stroking his thumb across your bottom lip and smirking even more when you averted your gaze from him.
"Flirt back," Felix chuckled, you looked over at him and arched an eyebrow at the member.
"I bet he won't know what to do." You nodded slowly looking back at your boyfriend who was now running his hands up and down your outer thigh. This was as open and forward as he'd been with you since the two of you had started dating a few months back and you were enjoying it - even if it was false bravado. 
"Jisung," You whispered sweetly, leaning down and kissing his jawline slowly making your way up to his ear,
"Why don't we take this to your room? You can show me how good you can make me feel." The movement of his hand on your thigh ceased and his eyes widened as he stared at you.
"W-What?" He stuttered, his skin turning bright red as he shifted away from you on the sofa,
"Let's go to bed together," You ran your fingers over his chest and he blushed even more, whimpering a little.
"I-I'm going to go to sleep," He whispered before rushing in the direction of his bedroom.
"That was the easiest way to get him to sleep," You giggled slowly beginning to clean up the mess he'd been making with his drinks. FELIX: Ever since Felix had gotten into the car he hadn't stopped touching your face, it was small gentle caresses over your skin as he stared at you in complete "awe".
"You have an adorable boyfriend." The taxi driver said as you looked over at him in the mirror, you smiled a little.
"He's a little drunk, and he gets a little clingy when he's drunk." You giggled a little feeling Felix turning your head to look at him before smiling like a drunken fool at you. It was rather adorable to see him like this and all for you,
"You're so pretty," He whispered, chuckling a little when you whimpered at him feeling your body shiver at the compliment. It was something simple and yet the mere action made your entire body tingle.
"T-Thanks Lixie," You smiled, gently holding his hand and squeezing it ever so slightly.
"I love it when you call me that, it makes my whole body tingle." He laughed a little, laying his head down on your shoulder before continuing to call you "pretty" and "beautiful".
It didn't stop the whole car ride home and even now as the two of you were climbing into bed together.
"I wonder if you'll remember this in the morning," You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you, dragging your body to be curled into him from behind so you were spooning him.
"I will, and then I'll call you beautiful all over again," He yawned, cuddling into the sheets while you gently placed a kiss on his shoulder.
SEUNGMIN:
"I'm never going to forgive you for this," You mumbled to Chan as you drove everyone home that night. He and Seungmin were going back to your place since Seungmin wasn't able to control the sound of his own voice right now since he appeared to be screaming whenever he spoke.
"It's not my fault he thinks he's speaking normally, blame the bar." You glared at Chan in retaliation and he chuckled looking over at Seungmin who was in the middle seat. You'd had to put the child lock on the windows because every now and again he would open them to scream outside about how much he loved STAY and you.
"You doing okay Seungmin?" You questioned as you pulled up at a red light, turning to look at him and coming face to face with Seungmin.
"I LOVE YOU! YOU'RE SO GOOD TO ME!" You giggled a little and turned to face the front again, driving as he continued to yell about how much he loved you.
"He's going to hear all about this in the morning," Chan chuckled. The boys had been recording Seungmin while they waited for you to come and pick him up.
"I hoe you guys send me copies of everything," You smirked pulling into your driveway and going to help Seungmin out of the car and into the house.
"YOU'RE THE BEST! ISN'T SHE THE BEST CHAN?!" Seungmin screamed out and you laughed a little, praying none of your neighbours was going to put in a complaint about the noise.
JEONGIN:
"I'm going to marry you," Jeongin said as he sat up, wiping his mouth on the towel you were holding out for him. You'd picked him up an hour ago and bought him home where he sat in front of the toilet to be sick.
"Yeah?" You giggled, stroking hair out of his forehead and smiling a little, it was adorable just how affectionate he was being toward you and you couldn't help but get a warm feeling in your chest about it. You and Jeongin had been together for about four years and the topic of marriage had never really been bought up unless it was a joke between the boys and him.
"Hmm, Channie-Hyung is going to help me look for a ring next week, he promised." You laughed a little and he frowned suddenly regretting the fact that he'd told you that.
"I shouldn't have told you that," He whined, tears starting to spring into his eyes. Your hands rushed out to cup his face as you stroked your thumb along his skin softly,
"It's okay, you don't mean it baby you're just drunk." You reminded him, hoping he wouldn't start crying right now. Drunken crying was the worst type of crying - right after crying because someone asked if you were okay that was.
"N-No...I mean it. We were planning on going next week and now I ruined the surprise." He instantly rested his head on your chest and began to cry into your shoulder while you gently stroked his back. Your heart felt as though it was about to burst at this information but you tried to contain yourself.
"I'll pretend I never heard you say it," You suggested, making Jeongin sniffle and nod his head at you.
Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @lost-leopard-beanie @aerastus @laylasbunbunny @critssq @pearlygraysky @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​
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reverse sex pollen sounds incredible
Some months ago I opened an untitled document to find this:
Wade gets shot full of normally deadly tranqs, but just gets REALLY stoned. While under the influence, he cuddles aggressively with Nate, flirts, gets a backrub, and …
AND WHAT???? Damn you, past me.
I eventually filled out the idea. This is the completed inspiration statement.
In the sex pollen trope, Nate is usually the one completely incoherent, not Wade. And often Wade gets to realize his feelings by unexpected dub-con smexing. What if instead Wade had most of his inhibitions and soberness taken away? What if he was the one drunk, stoned, and unexpectedly handsy? What if Nathan admits to himself that he likes touching Wade and being touched by Wade?
(Although now I'm thinking about actual reverse sex pollen that makes one of them temporarily despise the other. That would be interesting too. And so much angst. That's not what this fic idea is about though.)
It so happens that I was 1) buzzed, 2) melancholy and lonely, and 3) deep in my cablepool feels, so I took a stab at putting together the full outline and managed to put about 1,000 words in a file. So, thanks, anon! I'll try to do some more tomorrow.
“Is it still don’t ask don’t tell, if everyone ya. You know. Saw us slide to my apartment together?” is the first thing Wade slurs on the other side, still plastered to Nathan’s side and clinging like some kind of deranged, red koala. Nathan grimaces, because Wade’s jokes about this time period’s unhelpful treatment of homosexuality aren’t really helping the inappropriateness of the situation. Then he yelps in surprise when Wade’s hand is suddenly back on his ass. The groping is at least twice as brazen and enthusiastic this time. Mother Askani, is it possible that Wade was actually being slightly discrete when he was in front of the others? He extricates himself from Wade’s clinging as quickly and efficiently as he can, then takes several hasty steps back, barely making it out of range of Wade trying to grab him again. “How about we get you to bed,” he says firmly, and he hopes desperately that Wade is going to listen. The other’s answer is … honestly, he should have seen this coming and should have known better than to give Wade an opportunity like that. “Oh yeah,” Wade says, leering, swaying slightly on his feet. “As long as you’re coming with me, yeah, you can take me to bed, big boy.” Then he winks. How Nathan can tell through the mask, he isn’t quite sure, but somehow Wade manages to make it clear. Nathan feels a blush rising up his cheeks. Oh dear. This … is not what he expected.
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incorrectvirbisi · 3 years
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flint: ugh you’re so stupid krig: you’re one to talk, backrub cristina, from the other room: DON’T CALL EACH OTHER SLURS
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snowdxve · 4 years
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The Entire History of You
A fanfic based on Episode 3, Season 1 of Black Mirror
Yancy x Reader
Warning: Light gore, Strong language, Alcohol, cheating
Word Count: 2681
A/N: After watching this episode, I had instant inspiration because I love a good tragedy but I did change up a few things. This was really fun to write. This was mostly for fun but now that I read over it there isn’t a lot of detail but I want to get it posted tonight, so I hope you enjoy.
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Technology had developed quickly and a little device that recorded everything you seen or heard was implanted into everyone. This little device was placed behind everyone’s ear so it wasn’t very noticeable unless you were looking closely at it. Yancy had even got one and was excited to show You everything that he had experienced. Yancy couldn’t have been more excited; he was getting out! Today was the day he was allowed to leave the prison he had called home for so long and live out his life outside the walls with You, the love of his life. He walked out of the prison with a smile plastered on his face as he struts happily toward the car. Damien had come to pick up the ex-convict and take him to his new home. Yancy got into the car and greeted Damien with a big hug before pulling the seatbelt over his chest as the drive began.
You had gathered everyone together ready to surprise Yancy on his first day home; You made sure everyone was there! You made cake and gathered in the living room, waiting patiently for Yancy to arrive at the house. Yancy soon walked into the house and looked around the room; his eyes immediately falling on You. His smile fades a bit as he sees another man talking to you. The way the man smiled at you, the way you looked at him made Yancy tense. Something just didn’t feel right. When you turned to him, you kept your smile and walked straight to Yancy, looping your arm with Yancy’s and guiding him into the living room.
“Yancy! Sweetie, it’s so great to have you home.” Yancy looks down at you and smiles as you kiss his cheek. “You remember Wilford and Magnum, right?” You ask as you walk into the living room. Yancy nods a moment as he shakes their hands before turning his attention to the man who had talked to You just moment earlier. “This is Illinois!” You gesture to the man who tips his hat to Yancy and shakes Yancy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, you should do a rewind on the tv so we can see everything.” Illinois offers.
“No, tha’s only for Y/N and I to look over later.” Yancy says calmly as Illinois walks down the hall to the dining room. “Foods ready!” Illinois calls out as Magnum and Wilford cheer and trail behind Illinois into the dining room. Yancy stops you a moment, “Has he always been part of the group?” Yancy asks with a raise of an eyebrow. “I’ll answer questions later, dear. Come on let's go eat.” You walk ahead of Yancy into the dining room and seat yourself towards the end of table. Yancy sits across from you as he puts stuff on his plate and looks across the table at you. Your eyes were trained on Illinois, a smitten smile on your face. Yancy’s heart sank, he remembered how you used to look at him that way. Had this man just come along and stolen the spark?
“This new grain thing is more my style; I can get to rewind and revisit all of my steamy moments.” Illinois chuckles as he looks down the table at You. “Easy,” You giggle out. Yancy watches the interactions quietly as he pokes the food around on his plate, watching everything. When dinner was finally over, Yancy couldn’t stomach the thought of Illinois being anywhere near them; he walks into the living room and sits down, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes to relax a moment. You followed close behind, strutting over to Yancy and sitting down on the couch. “I’m so glad to have you home, Yancy.” You coo as you reach over, intertwining your hand with Yancy’s. Yancy pulls his hand away and looks at you.
“So? Has he always been a part of the gang?” Yancy question’s curiously.
“Who?” You turn furrow your brows as you look at Yancy.
“Illinois. Like did he go around giving the girls backrubs? Is he always that, flirtatious?” Yancy clenches his jaw a bit and bites the inside of his cheek.
“My love, stop. I know you got some sort of weird vibe from him and that’s probably because, well Illinois and I had a little fling a long time ago for about a month in Hawaii. I didn’t know you back then so I don’t see why it’s such a big deal.” You pick up a wine glass and take a small sip as Yancy sits up in his chair.
“You what? You slept wit him? Well isn't that just amazing!” Yancy shakes his head and lets out a frustrated growl.
“Why does it matter? It was years ago and you didn’t even know me!”
“And I thought that this Mr.Hawaii guy was supposed to be a brilliant man-”
“Why are you so obsessed? It doesn’t matter Yancy, you got this all fucked up!” You cut off Yancy as you pick up your wine glass and make your way to the stairs.
“Oh, I’s fucked up? Well that’s brilliant because sometimes you're a bitch!” Yancy grumbles out. You froze and turned to Yancy with a sad look on your face. “Y/N, I didn’t mean that-” An image of Yancy appeared on the tv screen repeating what You had just heard him say. ‘You’re a bitch.’ played over and over on the tv screen as you made your way up the stairs.
“I said sometimes! You can’t just cut that out, Y/N!” Yancy calls after you.
Moment later, Yancy walks up the stairs into the bedroom with his head down. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I just get jealous; I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I got outside of the prison walls.” Yancy sits on the edge of the bed as You cup his cheeks and guide him into a gentle kiss. “It’s okay, Yancy. I understand.” You whisper as you holds him close. Yancy nods slowly before crawling into bed next to you; he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against him. You lean into him and close your eyes as you slowly drift asleep. Yancy, however, couldn’t sleep. After everything that had happened that day he found it harder and harder to sleep, so once he was sure that you were asleep; he crept out of bed down to the living room not before pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels out of the fridge. Yancy rewinds his memories on the television screen.
He focused on you and the way you acted. The way you had your attention glued to Illinois. How you laughed at everything he said as if he was some sort of comedian. Yancy fills the glass and take a drink, he replayed and watched the few scenes over and over through the night. When morning rolled around, Yancy was finishing the bottle and a brilliant thought popped into his head. He should go pay a visit to Illinois. Yancy stands and walks out of the house quickly and quietly, starting up the car a warning sign appeared in front of Yancy. “Grain advise you not to drive in these circumstances.” The chip inside his head speaks. Yancy rolls his eyes and starts up the car, “yeah, thanks for that.” He slurs out before backing out of the driveway.
It didn’t take Yancy long to get to Illinois and when he did Illinois walked outside in a robe and boxers. “What do you want convict?” Illinois crosses his arms as Yancy gets out of the car and hugs him.
“Nothing, I just want to come over and say hi!” Yancy says brightly as he stumbles into Illinois house, walking down a long hall way until he reaches the living room, he grabs a bottle of vodka off the table pullng the top off with a loud pop following. He presses the rim to his lips and takes a long drink as he falls back onto the plush cotton couch. “Yancy, you can’t be here. What’s going on? Are you and Y/N bumping heads?” Illinois asks as he puts his hand on his hips. Yancy looks up at Illinois and tilts his head as he tips the bottle back once more.
“No! Y/n and I are fine. I have one question, is this where you rewind your hot and steamy time? Is this where you rewind the hot steamy times with my girl?!” Yancy growls out. Illinois lets out a heavy sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I think you should go.” Illinois walks to Yancy, grabbing his arm but Illinois didn’t get very far before Yancy smacks the bottle against Illinois head. Illinois covers his face and groans in pain before wrapping his rough hands tightly around Yancy’s throat. Yancy, in a struggle to breathe, grabs Illinois by his hair and yanks him back. Illinois and Yancy rolled from the couch the to ground with Yancy, hovering over top of Illinois with his hands around his throat. “I want you to delete them! Every memory you have of Y/N I want you to delete them!” Illinois eyes became a pale white before Yancy grabs the empty vodka bottle and smashes it on the hard-wooden floor, sending bits of glass all over.
“Not on your eyes! On the screen now! If you don’t, I swear I will carve out your throat and I will break all of your fingers! I swear!” Yancy yells as he holds the sharp end of the broken bottle to Illinois throat. He watches the images of each memory show up on the screen. His eyes widen a moment as he took notice of one the timelines. ‘1 month ago’. Yancy’s heart sank as watches all memories being deleted from the screen; First there was sadness then there was boiling anger, Yancy gripped the glass piece a little tighter before plunging the piece of glass deep into Illinois shoulder. Yancy stands and sends his foot into Illinois stomach, causing him to double over in pain as he clutches his shoulder. Illinois laid there crying as Yancy storms out of the house to his car.
In that moment, Yancy was alone what the hell was he going to do now. He put all his trust and hope into You and you had blandly lied and cheated on him. Yancy was stunned; the one person he had changed everything for had done him wrong. Yancy bites his lip as his vision clouded, tears spilled over his eyelids. Hot tears raced down his cheeks as he drove home quickly, regretting that he had ever trusted you.
Yancy walks up the stairs slowly, listening to every step creak quietly under his feet as he walks towards the bedroom; he leans against the doorway and sniffles a bit as he brushes away his tears. “Why did youse lie to me?” Yancy takes a few steps into the room as you sit up from the bed. “What? Yancy, where have you been?” You sit up in the bed concern written all over your face. “You were with him, Y/N. Youse was with him while I sat in tha prison cell and rotted!” Yancy yells. You crawl to the edge of the bed and look up at Yancy, “what are you going on about? I was never with Illinois!” You protest.
Yancy points his rewinder to the tv and his encounter with Illinois plays on the screen. Your eyes widen as you look from the screen to Yancy, “what in the hell have you done?” You whispered in horror. Yancy takes a deep breath as scrolls in on the image. There you were sitting in your bed with the tan colored blanket pulled over your chest, a small smile of satisfaction plastered on your face with the caption 1 month pasted under the picture. “Youse get suspicious and youse thinks youse crazy sometimes but when youse not youse can finally get rid of the shit. It’s like having a rotten tooths really, and when youse get tired of it. You dig out all the shit.” Yancy grumbles out, peering over his shoulder at you.
“Yancy, it was a mistake. It was after that argument we had, you walked away and you didn’t call or even accept my visitations! I went out for a drink with him and we got talking. It shouldn’t have happened.” You sniffled out. Yancy stands up and walks to you, “I wanna see it.” He sniffles out.
“What?” You ask in shock as you look up at the man, his messy raven hair was in all different directions and his face was cherry red from crying. “Youse heard me, I want to sees it!” Yancy says firmly. “I deleted it! I just wanted to forget it.” You sniffled out. Yancy looks down at you and shakes his head, “So it’s just a blank spot on youse timeline? I wanna see it.” Yancy demands. You nod helplessly as you turn and crawl across the bed to the night stand, you grab your small silver remote and freeze as you flick back through memories as quick as you can, hoping to find it and delete it before Yancy would notice.
Yancy crawls over you and grabs the remote harshly from your hand, “Youse not going to delete it now! Stop lying to me, Y/N!” Yancy yells as he looks at the remote. ”Show me, Y/N. I want to see it.” Yancy whimpers out as he stands at the edge of the bed, holding the small remote flat out In his hand. “Show me,” You places your hands on Yancy’s chest and shake your head helplessly. “No, please, Yancy. I love you. Why?” You whimper out as tears stream down your face. Yancy grabs the sides of your head, “Just show me!!” He yells as he pushes you down on the bed hard.
You curl up into a ball, crying as Yancy looms over you. “Look what you’ve done to me!! This isn’t me!! Where do I go now?! How could you do this to me?! To US?! After everything we’ve been through?!” Yancy yells as he tosses the remote on the bed and sits back down in the chair with his hands in his hands. “Play it, please.” Yancy sniffles. You obeyed this time, sitting up shakily and playing the memory on the tv screen while you buried your head into the blankets and sobbed.
Yancy looks away from the screen as his heart breaks a little more. He had so much hope, so much joy to finally have something outside of those prison walls and now it had been mercilessly snatched away from him. Yancy stands and walks out of the room with you tagging behind him quickly. Just as Yancy reached the door, you wrapped your arms around him tightly. You press your head against his back as you cry. “Please, Yancy, don’t go! I love you, please. Please, please.” Yancy had his hand around the doorknob as his head hangs. You knew just how to tug at his heart strings. It reminded him of the first time you had come for a visitation; the way you cried when he was taken away.
Yancy hated seeing you upset; it was his biggest fear. He hated to think of you being alone and on your own. He was weak to you. Yancy turns in your holds and draws you against his chest, closing his eyes as he rest his head on yours. He knew far too well that he wouldn’t give up on you after all he had just gotten out. Things could be repaired, after all he had changed his ways for you. He had fixed himself up mostly, maybe all you needed was someone to lean on and he was there now for you to lean on. Yancy holds you tightly, never wanting to let you go.
Yancy’s dream was chatter when a loud knock sounded from the door. “Yancy! Come out with your hands up!”
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jackass-biomancer · 4 years
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Shrapnel
Something cute with Meli and First Captain Forrix. Cut for length, sfw.
Meli was in the med-bay doing nothing much of anything when she was interrupted by the uncharacteristically light footfalls of the Iron Warriors' First Captain, unencumbered by his Cataphractii plate.
"Meli."
"Forrix! What's up, my dude?"
Forrix's mouth twitched into a dry half-smile. Unlike his gene-sire, he found the biomancer's complete lack of propriety amusing, if not endearing.
"A forging accident, nothing more. I may still have some tiny shards of shrapnel lodged in my back. Examine me and remove it."
"Yeesh, sounds painful. Arright, robe off and sit up here."
Forrix stripped his hessian robe to his waist and sat, exposing the broad, scarred expanse of his back to Meli.
He twitched just the tiniest bit when he felt her warm hands on his skin.
"'Sarright," she reassured him, "I'll make sure it doesn't hurt. Hmm."
Meli thrust her biomantic senses into his skin and muscle, searching for wounded flesh and foreign bodies and finding none.
"I do not fear pain," groused Forrix as she worked.
"I'm not seeing any damage..." Meli mused, and ran her hands in careful passes over his skin, searching for the prick of splinters. "What exploded? Actually nevermind, I wouldn't understand it. What kind of shrapnel, is what I mean to ask. Steel? Ceramite? If it's a ferrous metal I have a magnet-"
"Ceramite," he told her firmly. "Perhaps press a bit harder, it may be deep in my muscle."
"No-oo," said Meli slowly, I don't think so, I'd be able to feel the damage if it was. Okay, what I'll do is, I'll numb your back and get you to twist around a bit, and if any wounds open up I'll have found yer splinters."
Forrix frowned at the wall, looking almost disappointed.
"Can you not search manually with your hands?"
Meli cocked her head to the side, puzzled, and then realisation dawned and she suppressed a giggle.
"You know," she told him slyly, the smile in her voice unmistakable, "If you want a backrub you can just ask."
An pregnant silence stretched between them as Forrix pinkened. He coughed awkwardly into his fist.
"Yes. Please." he admitted sheepishly.
"Lie down, get comfortable. I'll be right back with some lube."
Cheeks burning, the triarch did as he was bid, settling himself face down on the astartes-pattern medical bed.
"So is there any shrapnel? I ask because it might hurt if I do find some lodged in your back." Meli's words were accompanied by the slick sound of lubricant being spread over her hands.
"Unlikely," replied Forrix, hiding his face in his folded arms but failing to hide the embarrassment in his voice. "I was in armour at the time."
Meli snorted in amusement, and pressed her hands into the small of Forrix's back on either side of his spine. They slid up, pressing into his flesh just enough to begin coaxing his muscles to open up to her touch.
Over and over she stroked firmly up his back, avoiding connection ports, until the upper layers of muscle were relaxed enough for her to press deeper without discomfort.
Using the heel of her hand she began to push outward from his spine to his side, slowly marching up his back until...
"There," he gasped softly. "Right there. Hmmmmm..." His voice trailed off into an almost-purr as she paused, rubbing circles into the spot he'd indicated.
The astartes wriggled just the tiniest fraction under her touch, clearly enjoying himself.
"Too long in armour, hm?" she asked sympathetically.
"Mhm."
"Well, I'll do this for you any time you like, okay? Just come by whenever."
"Mmm."
"I promise you'll feel great by the time I'm done."
"It feels great now," he groaned. Indeed, his words were slurred somewhat in lazy delight at what her hands were doing to him.
(He was in no position to comment on how he felt by the time she was done. He fell asleep.)
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majesticfox34556 · 4 years
Text
Why To Never Taunt An Archangel
Title: Why to Never Taunt An Archangel
Rating: T (Teen)
Word Count: 925 words
Pairing: Sabriel (Sam/Gabriel)
Tags: Fluff, sword fighting, Gabriel is the Winchesters’ Personal Trainer, Brief Nudity, Sam is taking a shower, Massages, 
 Summary:  Gabriel was teaching Sam and Dean how to fight with older weapons. Dean laid down a challenge. How was Gabriel going to resist that? Dean really should have listened to Sam.
“And go!” Gabriel snapped his fingers. Sam and Dean leaped into action.
Sam went high with the sword and Dean swiped low.
The creature gave a monstrous squeal and vanished in a puff of smoke. The creature was finished before it could even move.
“Come on Gabriel.” Dean taunted. “Got anything better than some tiny monster. We have been doing this for years. You can’t make something we cannot beat.”
Sam winced at the maniacal gleam in his boyfriend's eyes.
“You asked for it Dean-o.” Gabriel snapped and a loud roar shook the bunker.
Sam yelped and ducked as a huge scaly tail swept over his head. “Damn it, Dean! Haven’t you learned in our varied history to never taunt an archangel! That’s like waving a red flag in front of a mad bull.” Sam berated his brother as they fought the huge dinosaur that Gabriel had created. “Especially Gabriel.”
“Fight now talk later!” Dean barked.
Sam knelt as Dean ran up to him. He catapulted Dean as high as he could in the air. Dean got a hit with the blade as he fell down the dinosaur. He cut a huge gash along his side. He dropped to the floor with a thud as the dino went up in a cloud of smoke.
Slow clapping met their ears. “Good job buckos. You managed to surprise me.”
“Yeah. Give us a moment.” Dean panted out. He was bent at the waist to catch his breath.
“Hey Sammich, what do you mean especially me? I think I resist temptation well.” Gabriel pouted his bottom lip.
“Yeah. Sure.” Sam snorted. “I remember the first and last time I will ever taunt you.”
Gabriel chuckled. “Oh right. Well, you were practically asking for it. How could I resist?”
“Time out.” Dean stood up straight and made a T with his hands. “What are you guys talking about?”
“Remember the Mystery Spot? Well, the very first Tuesday that started it all, Asia came on the radio to wake me up. I asked if the song was Asia. You said that I loved that song and I replied with if I ever hear it again I will kill myself. I then proceeded to hear it over one hundred Tuesdays in a row. That was the last time I ever will taunt Gabriel.” Sam rubbed his back. “I think you threw out my back.”
“Walk it off.” Dean grinned. “Dude, we just fought a dinosaur and won. I think that calls for a celebration.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Whatever.”
“Come on, man. That is right up there with me killing Hitler. It deserves a little party.” Dean rubbed his neck with his workout towel.
Gabriel’s jaw dropped. “How the heck did you boys manage to kill Hitler? Did Cassie time travel or something?”
Sam headed for the exit. “Dean can tell you.”
Dean launched into the story about zombie Nazis and a watch with the soul of Hitler with glee.
Sam headed for the bathroom for a shower. He did a quick pit stop in his room for clothes before hopping in the shower. He sighed as he soaped up.
Sam jumped when there was a snap and another warm body was in the shower next to him.
“Need some help, Moose?” Gabriel’s hands snuck around his body to grab at his stomach.
“Sure.” Sam tossed a grin over his shoulder. He handed Gabriel the washcloth. “Get my back?”
“I’ll do you one better.” Gabriel handed the soapy rag back. “You clean up and I will set up our massage table. I’ll give you a backrub.”
“Thanks, Gabriel.” Sam leaned down and kissed him. “I love you.”
Gabriel fiddled with the soaps on the shelves. “Am I really that bad at resisting when someone taunts me?”
Sam shrugged. “Not really. It’s a part of who you are and I wouldn’t have you any other way. You are an archangel, one of the most powerful beings in the universe. I think arrogance comes with the package. Besides, it’s kind of fun when you outdo yourself. I can now say that I have fought Nazis and dinosaurs.”
Gabriel gave a soft smile. “Thanks, Sam. Now, get cleaned up. Your masseuse awaits.” Gabriel snapped and disappeared.
Sam finished his shower and stepped out into the bathroom. He wrapped his towel around his waist and walked down the hall to his room.
He opened the door to a darkened room with soft candles lit on the edges. The bed was cleared away for a huge massage table. Rose petals littered the soft carpet and sweet-smelling oils permeated the air.
“Lay down Sam. Your back rub starts now.” Gabriel wiggled his fingers at Sam.
Sam stretched across the table with a soft sigh. “I love you, Gabriel.”
“You only like me for my fingers.” Gabriel snorted. He dug deep into Sam’s sore muscles.
Sam hummed sleepily. “Not at all.”
“Really? Why do you like me?” Gabriel hit a good spot and Sam melted into the table.
“I like you ‘cause you make things fun.” Sam slurred. “You cheer me up when I need it but you also…”
“Sam?” Gabriel nudged the hunter. “Moose? I also what?”
“Love me.” Sam let out a huge snore after those words.
Gabriel softly snapped and the massage table turned back into their bed. The room went back to normal with the second snap. With the third Sam was dressed in soft pajama pants.
Gabriel brushed some hair from Sam’s face. “Get some sleep, kiddo. Tomorrow, we work on archery.”
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Note
Stemming off the genderfluid one, how would you feel about a trans Jonathan? Whenever Steve’s over be takes off his makeshift binder because he feels comfortable enough around Steve to take it off and have some easy hours with his boyfriend ❤️❤️
Ahhh!!! Trans Jonathan is my jam, I remember after watching season 1 I was scrolling through one of the tags and I immediately saw a post saying Jonathan was trans and I was like “shit u right”
He wears extra layers because he’s kinda skinny and his body shape bothers him. He avoids touch, getting close to people, for fear of them casually touching his chest and feeling that something is off. 
Getting close to Steve is the riskiest thing he’s ever done, especially considering their rough history. He maintains his distance, won’t let Steve touch him, and when Steve tries to kiss him he blurts out that he has something to tell him. Explaining it is humiliating, how at one point when he was little, people called him Joanna. Steve sits quietly, looking more than confused and a little freaked out, and Jonathan expects him to run.
But he sits quietly, frowning down at the bed and just gathering his thoughts. Jonathan waits for an insult, some slur, something his father would have hurled at him years before. But Steve just sighs and says “So does that mean you‘re my boyfriend or my girlfriend?“ And the words sort of make him angry but he‘s also baffled at the implications.
“Boyfriend,“ He tells Steve certainly, and Steve just nods.
“Jonathan Byers, my boyfriend, can I kiss you now?” And they do.
Eventually Steve becomes a little more sensitive to it, understands what exactly Jonathan meant when he explains it a little more in detail. He doesn’t run or call it disgusting, just hums and says it’s “kinda cool“. He knows he‘s not supposed to touch Jonathan‘s chest, but he always likes to slip his hands under Jonathan’s shirt and grab his sides to pull him close. 
At first Jonathan refuses to let Steve see him in any state but the way he dresses in public… But when Steve starts sleeping over, Jonathan decides he’s comfortable enough to take off his binder. Steve asks him if it hurts, having his chest pressed down like that, and Jonathan admits it does hurt after a long day. It makes it hard to breathe and some days he‘s sore for hours afterwards, makes his back hurt.
After his confession, Steve goes out of his way to make Jonathan more comfortable. He offers backrubs, suggests they stay in for their date nights just so they can lounge around in sweats and big shirts. Jonathan loves spending evenings curled up against his boyfriend, just relaxing and talking. 
So yeah, I love trans Jonathan thanks.
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regrettablewritings · 7 years
Text
Valentine’s Day Love Languages: Physical Touch
If you weren’t a particularly religious person before, Matt Murdock’s introduction into your life sure had you reconsidering. Not necessarily because Matt himself was a God-fearing Catholic, but more so because you personally needed to find God and shake his hand for doing damn fine job on creating your boyfriend.
After all, not everyone could land themselves a miracle in the form of an intelligent, loyal, handsome sweetheart with backside to kill for.
Matt was amused when you slurred the slew of praises during your third date (destination: Josie’s, of course) and only mentioned in it light teasing the next day as you hid yourself underneath your covers, both out of embarrassment and out of distress from the bright lights of day. Of course, taunting as Matt could be, he recognized that right then and there was not the time to keep pushing it, deciding to instead tuck your little confession away for a later date.
That later date eventually arrived, about three days later when you decided to drop by the office and surprise your darling boyfriend and his equally darling friends with takeout for lunch. You were pissed that he couldn’t see the killing look you were shooting in his direction; it never occurred to you that he could sense it.
“ ‘Sweetheart’?” Foggy laughed incredulously. “If Matty’s a sweetheart, then I’m the latest model in Playgirl.”
“Yeah, I’m also gonna have to question the smartness part,” Karen chipped in. “You guys may have only been dating for, what, a few weeks? I know for a fact that by now you’ve realized he forgets to eat unless you tell him to. Who does that!?”
You could only blush and force an awkward smile in response. “To be fair, I was drunk,” you shrugged. Matt, of course, wasn’t buying it.
“Drunk words are sober thoughts, (Y/N),” he smirked. He heard your heartbeat pick up a bit and tried not to vainly relish in it; he knew what that smile of his did to you. But he also usually knew when you were at your limits and decided that as much enjoyment as he was getting out of pointing out how cute and silly you had been the other night, it wasn’t worth risking getting a lecture from you later. Time to calm the situation with some good ole “sweetheart” words.
Matt delicately speared a piece of broccoli from his lo mein. “And to be fair” – the smirk turned into a genuine smile – “not everyone can say that they managed to acquire a relationship with an equally intelligent, devoted, beautiful woman who I’m sure also has an equally nice – “ Matt stopped short, remembering where he was. He’d mentioned everything else you’d call him but the comment about his posterior. “… face.” Nice save, Matthew, he told himself sarcastically.
Whether or not anyone had bought it, however, was never made entirely certain. What was made entirely certain, however, was the pondering expression on Foggy’s face, followed by one of growing confusion.
“Wait … Wait, you said ‘sure.’ As in, you’re ‘sure’ (Y/N) has a nice face,” he repeated. Foggy looked between the two of you. “Are you insinuating that you guys haven’t done the face thing yet?” Matt pressed his lips together; you just looked back and forth between the two men.
The face thing?
“He just means, does Matt know what you look like, yet?” Karen offered.
“Uh … Pretty sure blindness puts a damper on whether or not Matt can see my face.”
“No, I mean – has he, you know, felt your face before,” Karen clarified.
“Like, put his fingers all over it,” Foggy gestured, taking his own hand and pantomiming it over his face in a circle. His brows furrowed. “That sounded a bit weird, didn’t it? Anyway, it’s been a couple of weeks, you haven’t done it yet?”
Despite Foggy and Karen both still having their site, it was not they who could detect a change in your body language or mood; that, of course, went to Matt. He sat there quietly as Karen and Foggy tried to explain his shtick for him, unsure as to whether or not there was even a point to add into it. Truthfully, he did want to touch your face. And he had for a while: Not long after the two of you had met, when he considered you worth keeping in his life. But for as normal was such a thing was for him … He didn’t know; he just felt a little nervous about asking you if you’d comply. Apparently, this nervousness might have had some foundation: The moment Karen explained that “the face thing” was him touching his own girlfriend’s face, he heard your heartbeat pick up. Not enough to raise concerns, but enough for him to nearly quirk an eyebrow. When it picked up only just so slightly once more upon Foggy’s contribution, he decided that maybe now was a time to usher in his skills with words.
“Well, Foggy, Karen,” he began, “if you must know, we have not done the so-called ‘face thing.’ I feel that it’s an intimate part of any relationship of mine and ought to be done in our own time. If two weeks isn’t enough time for either side, then two weeks just isn’t enough.” He said it with finality. Your heartbeat dropped only by a fraction. Matt could hear it even as the conversation drifted to easier-going topics, even when you laughed alongside everybody else.
You had never been one for vanity, but you had also never necessarily seen yourself as unattractive either. You preferred to see yourself as custom-made in terms of looks, aesthetically appealing and damn desirable to your special one-and-only, of whom you dared to suspect that Matt was proving to be. Even when you first met Karen as a client for Nelson & Murdock, you never felt insufficient in terms of looks because you felt that she was pretty in her own way and you were pretty in your own way. But then you started to date Matt.
Matt, who was aesthetically pleasing to a great many, rather than custom-tailored like yourself. Matt, whom you found attractive when you first came to the office but only found more and more beautiful as you came to know him more. Matt, whose universal appeal actually began to make you waver in that self-efficient way of thinking that had kept you afloat for so long …
It felt ridiculous to think this way, you knew that. But then again, the world and all of its experiences were ridiculous: For God’s sake, you lived in a city whose alien attack had been thwarted by a team composed of a man in a flying metal suit, a blond hunk with an enchanted mallet, and a ‘roided-out Jolly Green Giant who was far less than jolly! So forgive you for beginning to think about how others on the street might be thinking when they see this tall, sophisticated-looking Columbia graduate walking alongside, well, you.
You tried not to think this way – God knows you did. But God also knew that not long after you began to think this way, you would catch yourself looking in the mirror probably three times as long as you had before. Your eyesight suddenly appeared to reach CSI unit levels, catching an acne bump or the tiniest zit on your face even twelve feet away from the smallest mirror. Soon after, you’d begin to recognize every split end, every wayward hair, every hair in the center of your brow that threatened to become five more upon being plucked.
Outfits that you loved suddenly just didn’t “feel right”; as if they suddenly weren’t “you” anymore. Unfortunately, the things that apparently were you tended to be less than flattering, baggy sweatshirts, t-shirts, etc. depending on the weather. Of course, Matt was pleased to smell his Columbia hoodie on you (he never implied to you that he knew it was on by scent, but by touch).
“Where’d you dig up that old thing?” he smiled as he began to crawl into your bed. He heard face muscles tense; not enough for a real smile, but a false one.
“Oh, you know. Around.” You shrugged. “I like sleeping in your sweats.”
“And wearing them,” he pointed out. He heard the facial muscle loosen into the pattern he linked with a frown and felt immediate remorse. “I – I mean – ”
“Matt, it’s okay,” you insisted. You even held up a hand, knowing darned well that he couldn’t see it. “I just like wearing baggy stuff, that’s all. It’s cozy,” you insisted. You then wished him a goodnight and turned off the lamp. Matt returned the offer quietly. He considered attempting an apology with physical affection. It was nearly a month into your relationship, and while you eventually caved about letting him stay over, you never tried anything in bed. Or outside of it, for that matter.
Matt understood the concept of waiting very well and never pushed for anything, wanting your comfort to come before his. Nevertheless, it just felt odd to him, being that his relationship history, while filled with very brief stints, consisted of sexual activity rather early on in each run. But with you, it never went beyond a peck on the lips and handholding. No long kisses, backrubs, or anything. Maybe you were asexual and didn’t know how to tell him?
Matt didn’t know. How could he?
As he fell asleep, he instinctively laid an arm over your body to hold you close while in slumber. The next morning, he woke up with you out of his embrace and close to the edge of your side of the bed.
“So, how goes it? Anything . . . interesting?”
Matt pressed his lips together in bemusement. He knew exactly what Foggy was insinuating, both by his friend’s tone and by the fact he’d been asking the same thing for the last month. Every day when the two would retrieve their cups of coffee at the office, it was a sure thing that Foggy would, without fail, ask for Matt to basically kiss and tell, bang and tell, or at least face-thing and tell. The only kiss and tells Matt had had were the usual pecks; the latter two were nonexistent.
“Foggy, I’ve told you, that’s personal,” Matt replied before taking a sip of his coffee. His friend, much to his dismay, wasn’t buying it.
“It wasn’t all that personal when it was those other chicks. What about that one paralegal?��
“You do realize that more than half the time, the women I said I was sleeping with was just a cover for you-know-what, right? And besides, even in the cases where I actually was … doing something ‘interesting’ with someone, this is different because it’s (Y/N), okay?” He noticed that he sounded a tad tense while responding. Foggy noticed it, too.
“Whoa, there, bud: Are we getting a little … frustrated? In that way?”
Matt groaned with exasperation, “No, Foggy. I am not.” He tried not to crush his hot, flimsy Styrofoam cup. His knuckles were already sore from the other night’s escapades, and surely a hot cup of essentially bean juice wasn’t going to soothe the pain. Thankfully by then, Foggy began to notice he was poking a nerve.
“Okay, but seriously, Matt,” Foggy’s voice dropped into serious territory, “what’s going on? You’ve been kinda sorta … Yeah, well, tense when it comes to (Y/N). Are things, well, okay?”
At first, Matt nearly said that everything was fine. It was instinctive for him to insist upon that. But the moment he opened his mouth to say it, he knew he couldn’t. Matt made it a goal to be honest when necessary; right now, his gut told him, was a necessary moment. He stood in silence, trying to piece together the right sentences, the right words, before sighing in defeat and looking in Foggy’s general direction, eyes dulling further behind his red shades.
“Honestly, Foggy, I don’t know anymore,” he answered. “I mean, I thought things were fine between (Y/N) and me: We got along great! I know the honeymoon isn’t eternal or anything but … I just didn’t think that the honeymoon with her would be so …” He slowly waved his cup in a circle in an attempt to drum up the right word. “. . .Brief,” he decided. He chose it in competition with “quick”, “dissatisfying” and “alarmingly short-lived.”
“How do you mean?” Foggy inquired, brows creased.
Once again, his friend sighed. “I just – This is going to sound weird, but there’s nothing to speak of when you ask if things got ‘interesting.’” Foggy didn’t get it; Matt could tell. He could feel his face warming up as he realized how much of it he had to spell out. “(Y/N) won’t …” He groaned with mortification. “(Y/N) won’t touch me!” he spat out. He could hear the muscles in Foggy’s face become embarrassed and surprised all at once. He also heard the obligatory, “Oh, wow, that’s, uhhh …”
Matt exhaled heavily through his nose and cast his unseeing eyes downward. The secret was out; nothing he could do now but explain further.
“We kiss – well, it’s more like a peck on the lips – and we hold hands, but that’s it. It’s not even about sex or anything, it’s just, well, it’s almost like she’s repulsed by me.” The blind man roughly ran a hand through his hair. “We barely cuddle (and if we do, it’s not for long); when we share a bed, I fall asleep holding her but then wake up to find her practically falling off the mattress; hell, even the way we hold hands feels like she wants nothing more than to pull away. And no, that’s not just my suspicion, her heartbeat suggests anxiety!”
“Well,” Foggy started. He tapped unsurely on his own Styrofoam cup, uncertain as to how to handle such a situation from his usually calmer friend. “Have you, you know, talked to her about it?”
“No,” Matt admitted. “I haven’t. God knows I want to, I need to. But it also feels like it’s my fault in the first place. Or something. Really, I don’t know! If she doesn’t even want me to touch her face, then maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised that she doesn’t want to initiate anything more.”
Foggy’s expression fell completely into shock, complete with the furrowed brows of judgement. “What do you mean you haven’t even done the face – Matt, it’s been a month!”
“Yes, I know – ”
“It shouldn’t be that big of a deal –”
“Well, to you it may not be. And to me it may not be. But to (Y/N), it apparently is. And I’m not forcing her to do it if it is.”
“ ‘If’ ,” Foggy pointed out. “It’s a big ‘if’, buddy. You don’t know if that ‘if’ even exists.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to force her to do anything to me,” Matt scowled, though he was unsure as to who or what he was scowling over. He tried to calm down in all of his frustration, just barely becoming exhausted in his thought process. “I just … I don’t know what’s up. I know I should ask – I should’ve done that before I talked with you, actually – ”
“Fair enough.”
“ – but as stupid as it is, I can’t help but feel a little, well, scared about it. Don’t give me that look, I know how stupid it is, being scared of this. But I have a good reason to be: Even before we hit the honeymoon stage – hell, even before we started dating – I just wanted (Y/N) in my life. I wasn’t sure how, or even why I wanted to risk that. I just knew that I wanted to be near enough so that she would be a constant in my life. And the messed up part is, even throughout all of this, that’s still something I want.”
Matt went quiet for a moment as if in contemplation. “I guess I’m just hung up on the fact that maybe I did something wrong but she won’t tell me. I’m so used to relying on touch to determine things, y’know? I guess having … Being deprived of this one thing, it’s driving me on edge.” He heard Foggy sigh deeply before feeling a hand pat him on the shoulder in a consoling fashion.
“Hey,” Foggy said quietly, “I don’t think you did anything wrong. But maybe you should really talk to (Y/N) about how you’ve been feeling.” Matt heard the muscles that made a smirk. “And by ‘maybe’, I mean definitely.”
Matt offered a small smile back. “I guess …” However, the smile, barely existent as it was, had been just as quick to dissolve upon its owner hearing something.
“What?” Foggy asked.
Matt cocked his head slightly, trying to pick up what he thought he’d detected. “Footsteps. They sound familiar. They’re going … Sounds like … (Y/N)?”
You had decided that if you couldn’t be physically divine, then you would produce divine baked goods. You hoped deep down that maybe the confections would temporarily distract your boyfriend from the storm that you knew was brewing. Of course, that was wishful thinking.
But a girl could hope right? you thought as you climbed the flight of stairs to the Nelson & Murdock office, Tupperware of angel cake in hand.
“(Y/N) won’t touch me!”
You froze. You obviously knew who it was and where it’d come from. After all, there was only one office on this floor, it being the one right in front of you.
“Oh, wow, that’s uh …” If you weren’t stuck in your petrified state, you would have placed a hand to your mouth in shock: Why was Matt telling Foggy of all people this!? Foggy was, by no means, a dog , but compared to Matt, he was more prone to cooler side chitchat about sexcapades. You already knew that there was no such thing for Matt to speak of. You just didn’t think he’d pose it in the manner you’d just heard him snap.
“We kiss – well, it’s more like a peck on the lips – and we hold hands, but that’s it. It’s not even about sex or anything, it’s just, well, it’s almost like she’s repulsed by me.” You felt your stomach try to escape your hollowing shell of a body by climbing its way out of your throat. You didn’t mean for – That’s not what – You didn’t think Matt was repulsive at all!!
“We barely cuddle (and if we do, it’s not for long); when we share a bed, I fall asleep holding her but then wake up to find her practically falling off the mattress; hell, even the way we hold hands feels like she wants nothing more than to pull away. And no, that’s not just my suspicion, her heartbeat suggests anxiety!”
With every word, you felt worse and worse. You only pecked because you didn’t want him feeling how chapped you felt your lips were; if he cuddled you long enough, you feared that he would feel the rolls in your skin and realize that your face probably matched; same with sleeping so closely, only you also feared that maybe he could smell the gross morning smell on you; and you worried that he could feel your hands sweating if they remained entwined with his, but apparently he could feel your heartbeat as well!
You tried to inhale but found yourself struggling to. You blanked out for a second, only to be revived by the voice of Matt, your beloved and sweet and deserving boyfriend, confirming something you’d feared he’d eventually conclude: “But it also feels like it’s my fault in the first place. Or something. Really, I don’t know! If she doesn’t even want me to touch her face, then maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised that she doesn’t want to initiate anything more.”
No … No! You’d heard enough. It took nearly everything you had, but you eventually found yourself able to summon the strength to revive your physical being and hurry down the stairs. But not before hearing Foggy chide, “What do you mean you haven’t even done the face – Matt, it’s been a month!”
It didn’t matter how hard you tried to run, the guilt was always able to catch up with you. The damage had been done and it was all your fault.
Your apartment was eerily quiet when Matt arrived to confront you. He still knew you were there, based on the fact that he could hear your heartbeat, but he at least expected to hear crying, considering that he was pretty positive you heard the wrong end of a conversation. What he instead heard was a heartbeat of various emotions: Anger, sadness, and … guilt? Matt wasted no time pretending that he needed to feel his way around your apartment, making a direct beeline to your room where he found … you. On the ground. And if he gently rubbed his fingers together, he could also detect that you were sitting in front of a mirror.
You made no acknowledgement of his presence, though he was pretty certain you knew he was there. Instead, you sat, staring at your reflection. Judging by the muscle tension, you wore a determined expression, but not a good one; more like the determination one feels when they try to force themselves to get better about a bad situation before they were ready to.
Matt quietly, slowly padded over until he stood behind you. He took a quiet breath in: “(Y/N), we need to talk.”
Your stare did not falter. “There’s nothing to talk about; I’m trying to fix it.”
“(Y/N), I don’t think you have the right idea – ”
“I don’t touch you; what’s not to get?”
“(Y/N), would you please just – ” before he could finish his sentence, he heard you scowl and noisily get up from your position on the ground before turning to face him.
“What is it that you want from me, Murdock?” you demanded. Matt’s expression became one of worry. You only ever referred to him by his surname when you were frustrated. “Is it a sorry? Is it not enough that I’m trying to do something that’ll fix everything!?” Worry turned into growing fear: Your voice was hitching, and Matt could smell salt water developing where your eyes ought to be.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay!? I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m – I’m – !!” You could feel your throat constrict, and it was becoming harder to breathe. Harder to see, even. Shit. You thought you had cried all you needed to before Matt had arrived; apparently you were wrong. The initially quiet room soon began to fill with squeaks and pitiful whimpers and hiccups. It also would have echoed with brutal, howling sobs if not for the fact that they were quickly muffled by the torso of Matthew Michael Murdock.
The cries wracked your body, causing you to tremble to the point of falling back down. Matt held you even tighter, guiding you both down to the floor safely without so much as loosening his grip enough for your cries to blast into the room. It was from this position that it all came rushing out: The “I’m sorries”, the “I’m such shits”, all formed into barely coherent sentences. They were met with Matt’s insistences of “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here” and “No you’re not.” A warm hand gently run up and down your back in an effort to rein you back into reality once your personal nor’easter had run its course.
The broken sentences soon followed, to which Matt insisted that you wait until you’d calmed down. It had taken some time before you even managed to so much as hiccup an understandable sentence.
“I-I’m (hic) so-o-o-o s-s-o-orry, Matt,” you quivered in his arms. By now, his shirt was soaked but he didn’t care. He couldn’t even begin to care less, too intent on listening to you. “I j-just (hiccup) – I just want-ed to – to – !!”
“It’s okay, (Y/N),” Matt coaxed. “Take your time.”
But you didn’t take your time; instead, everything, all you’d ever felt, and all that you’d worried up to now, came rushing out like the ugly monstrosity that they had amalgamated.
“I wanted to be pretty enough for you but if you touched me, then you’d be able to ‘see’ everything wrong with me! But then it backfired and then you thought the problem was you and it’s like my shitty self-confidence was just a burden to you and I – I’m so sorry, Matt, oh God – !” Back into his chest you went, half-in shame and half-in an effort to potentially smother yourself. Confrontation was never your forte.
You didn’t stay there long, however, as you felt Matt gently remove you from your attempted safe haven. You tried not to cringe over the verbal lashing that was sure to come, one expressing how stupid you were or how ugly he could finally tell you were. Only … It didn’t come. When you dared to look up at Matt’s face, you found yourself surprised and disheartened to see Matt wearing a countenance that could only be described as … broken-hearted?
“(Y/N),” he whispered, “why would you think anything like that?”
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, searching for the right words to say. “T-that’s what … You said you felt unwanted!”
“No, I mean why did you ever feel as though you weren’t pretty enough?” Matt began to think back on every compliment he’d ever given you; were they not enough?
As if reading his mind, you shook your head, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Matt, I swear it. But it’s just … Well, look at you!” You both remained quiet after realizing how dumb it was to say that to a blind man. “… You know what I mean. Anyway, Matt, I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but you’re a gorgeous man. You look like you work at a modeling company! But you’re dating me. And I’m … I’m just …” Your voice trailed off. You were so tempted to say exactly what you thought of yourself; it was all you had been thinking for the last month. But was now really a good time to say any of them? Before you could come to a conclusion, however, Matt decided for you:
“You’re intelligent. You are faithful. You are exquisite. You are beautiful.”
You looked back at your boyfriend with judging eyes. “How can you even say that! You’re blin – ” You stopped yourself short, ashamed of even thinking such a thing, let alone daring to nearly say it. Matt, however, seemed perfectly unfazed.
“I know you’re beautiful because you’re (Y/N). I also know you’re exquisite, miraculous, angelic, and breathtaking because you’re (Y/N).” That darling smirk of his began to appear across his features. “Also, Foggy claims that I always know when I’m in the presence of a beautiful woman.”
You found yourself giggling at that comment, marking it as such a comedic turn for an initially and still somewhat tense aura.
“That,” you heard him say, “And I can feel your form through this sweatshirt.” You immediately stopped laughing. Before you could even think to move, he continued, “And I must say, (Y/N), you have quite the cute figure on you.”
Not too many words were exchanged during the process of cleaning you up. Sure, more things needed to be discussed but the entire ordeal that had transpired over the last few hours was enough for one day, you both wordlessly decided. You proceeded with your typical bedtime routine, as though nothing had happened. What was not, typical, however, was what occurred once you wished Matt a goodnight and turned out the light. In fact, what happened was what Foggy would have considered interesting.
Matt was a bit stunned to say the least, feeling you slowly but surely inching your way into his arms. But he accepted it easily. After all, physical touch was something even the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen couldn’t turn down. Even if it was baby steps.
Epilogue:
“…Matt?”
“Hm?”
“… I think I’m ready to do the face thing…”
“ …!”
You had to admit, it felt nice to have Matt’s fingers caressing every bit of your face, warts and all. It would have felt nicer if he’d given it a break after the fourth hour of memorizing your features and just let you sleep.
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modernart2012 · 7 years
Text
Day Three- Future
“Uhhhh… yessss… Beka, keep going, I’ll love you forever.” The words were slurred and muffled, Yuri laid out prone across their bed like a feast of toned flesh, all cream and gold.
“I thought you already promised to love me forever.” Fingers ran down Yuri’s scalp, dragged through damp flaxen hair, onto to warm skin.
“MmmmmmmMMMMM… right there… then I’ll love you forever twice over, this life and the one after.”
“Just those two?” Otabek murmured, amused, lips moving softly against Yuri’s bare skin. He barely suppressed a shiver.
“If there are more after that … ohhh, yeahhhh, oh God …. We’ll renegotiate then.” Yuri panted, words mewled and whimpered into the quiet dusk.
“Renegotiate?” Warms hands spread over, across skin, in languid movements, palms traversing the same length in slow, firm, drugging repetition.
“Ah, nnngh, Christ Beka your hands….” The words were outright moaned, the muscles in Yuri’s hips tensing as Otabek pressed knuckles into Yuri’s muscle.
“Renegotiate,” Otabek prompted again, increasing the pressure of his hands fractionally, fingers pressing just that much more in.
Yuri’s breathing stuttered, ragged, unsettled and loud, and Otabek slowed down; it’d do no good to end things now. “If, if I got to keep you for two lifetimes, two forevers, might as well make it eternity.” A slight squeeze, and as Yuri’s breathing slowed, “Infinite lifetimes.”
Otabek’s hands still, and before Yuri can stop it a bereft noise spills out of his throat, trying to make Otabek’s hand move again. Otabek only flexes his fingers, quiet against the background hum of their home. “Infinite forevers.”
Yuri nods his head against the blankets, glad that no one can see how red he is. “Every forever, with you.”
Those hands, previously simply flexing on his hips tighten and Yuri finds himself on his back, blushing, startled and pinned in place by his husband’s body and fierce gaze. “Beka?!”
Anything more he might have been planning on saying was quickly cut off via liberal application of a hungry, yet unhurried exploration of his mouth via Otabek’s. It wasn’t worth fighting the man when he kissed like that, and Yuri relaxed into the familiar-yet-thrilling sensations.
His fingers grasped at the fine hairs Otabek had tied back, pulling the man closer and bringing that delicious, bruising pressure to his hips. He let his eyes drift shut and gave over to giving as good as he got.
It seemed like an eternity later when Otabek disengaged from Yuri, chest heaving and thumb sweeping across Yuri’s kiss-bruised lips. His chocolate gaze softened, eyes crinkling in that subtly ecstatic expression he wore, it seemed, every time he got Yuri in private, alone for the quiet ways he expressed his careful adoration. The one that screamed what did I ever do to deserve you? to whomever cared to look.
Yuri stroked down through Otabek’s newly mused hair, drawing him swayingly closer so that their noses brushed and their breaths mingled. He pressed a quick fleeting kiss to Otabek’s lips, then let his overwhelmed husband bury his face in the crook of his neck. It was nice to feel their hearts racing in tandem, and nothing was ever going to be better than this. Except ….
“You know this doesn’t get you out of finishing my backrub right?”
Cross posted on ao3 here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9921461
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