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#god i’m rambling in the tags what have these two done to me
no1ryomafan · 7 months
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The con I’m going to is literally tomorrow-started today technically-but instead of thinking about getting prepared n shit I talk to two of my friends separately about new!ryoma and I’m being hit with the emotions again AOAGAHA
I need to write a essay about him so fucking badly but how do you WORD about Ryoma Nagare.
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sttoru · 3 months
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‘you finally got the results to your recent exams back — all which were passing grades. when breaking the happy news to your boyfriend, he comes up with a way to reward you for your hard work.’
☀︎|tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). fluff & smut. kinda porn with plot, kinda not. soft dom satoru; vanilla, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v -> unprotected, body worship kinda, spooning position, little bit of breast play, mention of premature ejaculation kinda, creampie, size difference, reader gets called ‘princess, baby, pretty, adorable’. reader wears a short skirt. not beta read because i’m tired.
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“oh my god!” you almost drop your phone from the pure shock you just experienced. your hands shake as you look at the unexpected results reflected on the small screen.
satoru, who was minding his business in the kitchen, hurries into the bedroom the moment he hears your shriek. he was prepared to help you out with whatever had caused you to yell so loudly, though was surprisingly met with your beaming smile;
“oh, what got my princess so happy?” he asks with a grin of his own, stepping into the room. his gaze darts from the phone in your hand to your face and back again. satoru chuckles as you suddenly run up to hug him. he joyfully reincorporates the embrace; your happy mood being contagious.
you giggle and babble on about how you passed your two exams and how you ‘didn’t think you’d be able to attain such high grades’. your boyfriend hums and strokes your hair whilst you ramble, kissing the top of your head with a proud expression, “as expected of my smart little girl. i’m super proud of you.”
there goes the praise again — making your heart flutter in ways that no one else had done before. you sigh in content and bury your face into his chest. satoru pulls back after a moment, tenderly cupping your face so he could look into those pretty eyes of yours.
you’re his weakness. he knows you are — he’s always known you are, yet that adorable look on your face whenever you gaze up at him through your eyelashes never gets old.
that same look also makes him want to do unspeakable things to you; things that would have you crying from pure pleasure. you deserve to be shown what a true man would do for you out of love — what a true man like your lover would do to you for your own satisfaction and pleasure.
“i think my pretty girl deserves a reward for doing so well on her exams,” satoru whispers, slender fingers trailing from your jaw to your neck, brushing over your collar bone, “would you like that? a reward just f’you.”
you weren’t born yesterday. you knew exactly what he was indicating. you could tell by his loving yet lustful gaze, his fingers that sensually dragged along your skin and his tongue that darted out to subtly lick his lips. as if he was preparing to devour a five star meal.
which he was.
“f—ngh, satoru!”your legs were wrapped around his head, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sopping cunt whilst his hands were holding you down by your hips. satoru hadn't wasted a single second after you agreed to his proposal. he instantly lifted your skirt up, pulled your panties down to your ankles and dived right between your legs.
your thighs were clamping down on his head—almost forcing him to continue pleasuring you. not that your lover minded; he'd gladly do this again and again if he could. satoru leaves sloppy kisses all over your pussy, drenching it in not only your own bodily fluids, but his own saliva as well.
“mm, a little needy, aren't ya?” he mutters whilst softly kissing up and down your slit. he was admiring both the sight and the noises — your back arching, hips stuttering and voice shaking with need. the older man certainly did enjoy the view of your cute little face contorting with pleasure each time the top of his tongue teased your clit, “yeah, c'mon - let me see your face while i eat you out.”
you hesitated, however eventually removed your hands that tried (and failed) to hide your flustered expression. satoru lets out an almost inaudible whine at the revelation; his cock begging to be freed from its confines. he wanted to fuck you into oblivion, but today was your day. he longed to satisfy your own desires first.
satoru was nasty with it too. the unmistakeable, erotic and wet noises of him slurping up your juices mingle with your moans and whines. the white locks of his hair brush against the insides of your thighs and right above your clit—tickling you in all the right ways and adding to the pleasure you were receiving.
“fuck,” the older man curses under his breath and the warmth against your pussy makes your lower body twitch. his big hands squeeze around your hips, silently warning you to stay still so he could properly enjoy you, “you're gonna make me cum before i can make you finish.”
his words were true. satoru could get off from simply watching and hearing his girl enjoy herself. he has no shame in admitting that fact; he can't help it when you’re this incredibly gorgeous. he grinds his crotch against the soft mattress whilst his mouth continues to eat you out in a painfully slow yet tender manner.
“t-toru, g'nna cum.” you whimper and try to grind your cunt against his tongue in search for that last push that would send you over the edge. your high-pitched voice sounding so extremely whiny sealed the deal for your boyfriend. he pulls his head away from your tingling cunt - which is a second away from reaching its orgasm - and sits up on his knees.
satoru smirks once he hears your mumbled complaints. one large hand settles on top of your head and gives your scalp a few relaxing rubs whilst the other hastily undoes the zipper of his pants. he tilts his head to the right, glancing down at your squirming form with a lopsided grin, “d’ya want another treat, princess?”
of course, you nod. you were aching for that release that'd been building up in your lower stomach— needing to reach that long awaited climax. your eyes follow satoru's movements as he pulls his pants down. again, as painfully slow as possible.
“just a nod? tha’s all i get?” your partner pouts, nonchalantly revealing his lengthy cock for you to feast your eyes upon. he sighs dramatically before trailing two slender fingers down to your cunt, gathering your slick and using it to coat his tip. the pre-cum mixes with your own fluids and the erotic sight makes your mouth water, “i know for sure that my smart little girl can use her big words to get what she wants — let me hear ‘em.”
whilst you gather your thoughts and words, satoru lays down behind you, helping your body onto its right side. you’re facing the wall and thus couldn’t see that cocky expression he had on. his arms pull your back flush against his chest, positioning your hips the right way and lifting one of your legs up properly.
“p-please, i need to have you inside me. can’t wait any longer, ‘toru.” you manage to beg in the end. the warmth radiating from your lover’s body from behind you only increases your sinful craving. he teases you by kissing your nape whilst his hands get rid of your top—fingers then immediately fondling your tits.
his husky voice whispers a 'good girl' in your ear and that’s all you got as an answer before you felt his cockhead prod at your entrance. satoru hisses at just the slightest of contact—not sure if he could last long this time. he feels like he will explode the moment his tip glides inside your gaping hole.
“so beautiful, can’t believe how lucky i got.” the white-haired man grunts as his lips refuse to leave your skin. from your neck to your shoulders and upper arms — he didn't leave a single inch uncovered. it was almost tortureous: the way he grinded his tip against your pussy as he touches the rest of your body with his hands and mouth.
you whine and rub your hips back in the same rhythm. you were indirectly begging him to put it in already and satoru took notice of it. since you had begged once before, he won't coax you into doing it again.
with a light moan, he slides his throbbing cock all the way up the tight space. the squeal you let out at the sensation of being stretched out to your maximum capacity, made satoru murmur a few more words of praise in your ear.
“you're doing so good - taking me so well,” his voice was smooth like honey, the same goes for his soft thrusts. the way your pussy grips onto his cock makes him see stars. your boyfriend never gets tired of making love to you because the hypnotising feeling of being inside you doesn't ever get old. it feels like the first time he had stuffed you full of his cock over and over again.
you were feeling light-headed by now; your eyes rolling back as your mouth formed an 'o'-shape—the cockdrunk look satoru loves to see on you. the squelshy 'flop flop flop' noises echo throughout the entire room with every deep thrust of his hips against the plump flesh of your ass.
satoru's long fingers go from playing with your nipples to groping your hips and ass. his eyes gaze downwards, watching as the fat of your bottom ripples after his pace quickens. you were trying your best to keep up, but the overstimulation of all your senses made it hard to match your movements to his.
“aht aht. you've worked hard enough on your exams already, princess. just lay back and allow me to do everything.” satoru (jokingly) scolds you. this was your reward and he didn't want you putting in any effort if your body couldn’t handle it. he wants you to relax like you deserve after a stressful period of exams and assignments. he’ll happily do all the work instead.
“oh, mmh! too good — fuck!” you mewl. your fingers curl around the bedsheets that moved back and forth with your bodies. a bigger hand settles on top of yours — intertwining your fingers and holding onto them tightly. you could feel satoru smiling against the skin of your shoulder as he kisses it, absolutely enjoying your little reactions to his thrusts.
“yeah? am i doing well?” he asks in a teasing tone. he didn’t have to ask that question; he knows he’s doing well judging purely by your bodily reactions. your back arches and your limbs shake uncontrollably, “am i pleasing my baby well enough?”
you can only moan out a couple ‘yes’’s, but that is enough of a confirmation. the older man is on cloud nine as he drags his thick cock in and out of your desperate cunt. every time he pulls out he can feel your pussy try to swallow him back in — it drove him nuts.
“i love how you look whilst i stuff you full of my cock. so innocent, yet so.. lewd at the same time.” satoru comments through another groan, the hand on your hip holding your body still so he could fuck his dick deeper into you. the tip of his cock nearly reaches your cervix due to the angles he uses to move inside you.
your long-awaited and much deserved orgasm was right around the corner. your moans increase in frequency and volume which was enough of a sign for satoru to increase the pleasure. his fingers trail down your hips and to the center between your open legs—thumb putting pressure on your clit.
the extra stimulation has got you biting into the pillow beneath your head, your lower body writhing around as your lover rubs the small bundle of nerves in circles and from side to side. his hand moves fast—its mission being to help you reach that intense orgasm you were chasing after.
satoru is feeling it himself as well. his cock aches and twitches as it gets ready to drain its balls inside your pussy, “cum with me baby—fuck—cum on my cock whilst i dump my load all the way into your tight little cunt.”
that was all the encouragement you needed. your eyes roll back and your body convulses as the waves of pleasure come crashing down all at once. you could feel satoru’s hips desperately push against your ass, filling you completely with both his dick and hot spurts of cum. you could feel the warm essence leavings its evidence in your womb.
the bedsheets underneath your two bodies was drenched in your slick after you calmed down a bit. your boyfriend continues to place comforting kisses all over your naked body, trying to show his appreciation for you in all the ways he could.
“you did so well. you deserved this, princess.” satoru utters softly, the hair clinging onto his forehead. he gently pulls his soft cock out after a minute of making sure that every drop of his cum stayed inside of your cunt. he loves the feeling of fulfilment that it gives him — loves the fact that he filled his girl to the brim.
you smile weakly. you were fucked out: completely and utterly. it felt good and you were satisfied with your reward. it even gave you enough motivation to do well on future exams, “thanks, ‘toru. ‘m feeling sleepy though.”
satoru snickers. you were always so adorable and vulnerable around him after the two of you partake in such activities. he loves it and it makes him want to take care of you.
“you deserve plenty of rest, so go ahead.” your lover smiles gently, kissing the top of your head after you close your eyes. one of his hands hold yours whilst the other rubs your side soothingly, “i won't leave. i'll stay right here with you whilst you sleep. i promise."
satoru knew you needed to hear those words in your vulnerable state. and surely enough, you smile once more and nod. your body falls asleep the moment his strong arms pull you into a loving hug.
his lips attach to your ear in the form a chaste peck. his smooth voice was the last thing you heard as you faded into an unconscious state;
“i love you so much.”
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🏷️: @marimogf @osaemu @screampied @sukuette @sachiyoh @giannitaa @morinuu
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y13evie · 8 months
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Hi so I saw that you are open to write for house md and I'd like to ask for a chase fic. Like reader is house's kid and either works at the hospital too or gets admitted there but also knows chase and is in a relationship with him. Plot can be fluffy, smutty and/ or angsty I don't really care but I'd like to know how house would react if he sees them interact etc.
Idk if you see this or like the idea but I wish you the best and I really like your fics
hiiiiii anon!! i love this idea sm and i LOVE ROBERT CHASE WITH MY WHOLE HEARTT. dad house is so sweet and cutesy. i tried my best for u
tags: robert chase x houses kid! reader, one use of y/n, house is stubborn but loves u, just fluff
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this is embarrassing. never in your twenty-five years of life would you imagine yourself in the hospital that both your father and boyfriend work at. yet here you are, with a 4 cm laceration on your right hand. the triage nurse had just sent you off and notified you that a doctor will be with you shortly. from your room window you could see dr foreman patting a familiar face on the back, probably saying something along the lines of “this case is yours bud”.
as soon as chase read the report he hurriedly rushed into your room. you shot him a sheepish grin and lifted up your hand to reveal the gash.
“my god, y/n”, he sat down next to you and took your hand gently into his gloved one and inspected the wound. he looked up at you, as if asking for an explanation.
“maybe i shouldn’t garden alone. i picked up this clay pot. the way it was sitting had been bothering me for a couple days now. i’m guess i’m not as strong as i thought i was because i dropped it and as it shattered, it cut me up pretty good.”
chase sighed at your stubbornness, something that had drawn him into you since early in your relationship. he took one of his gloves off and gently stroked your hair. he rambled on about how you should really be more careful and call him if you needed anything too laboring done. you weren’t listening. you were staring into those blue eyes. you weren’t into all that cheesy romance stuff but god, those eyes are stunning. your moment was quickly put to an end when harsh tapping could be heard from outside your window. you knew that sound from anywhere.
“you decided to be the one to doctor on MY kid”
house, or dad as you call him, hastily shuffles into your room and gives you both a judgemental look. robert rolls his eyes,
“foreman gave me the case first, i'm just doin’ my job”.
house hobbles over to check your vitals even though it’s a minor issue compared to what they deal with on a daily basis. you know your dad loves you and cares but he’s not the best at verbally expressing it. you knew he would probably just sit there and observe, so you turn back around to your extremely, worried boyfriend.
“soooo” you drag out the ‘oh’ sound, to show him you’re not worried. “whatcha doin after work handsome?”. chase runs a hand through his blonde hair and lets out a long, exasperated sigh.
“i was planning to go on a cute and sweet date with you, but instead i’m gonna be dr. chase for another 12 hours”.
he sounded tired but you knew he was more than happy to care for his darling. just as you two were planning out your evening, your father and robert’s pagers began harmonizing. chase gives a quick but passionate kids to your temple. house makes his gag be known, sticking a finger in his mouth for dramatic effect.
your dad lingers in the room for a moment, giving your shoulder a squeeze. it’s still gonna take time for him to adjust to the fact his child is dating his co-worker. but you’re not his little baby anymore and he knows it.
when he heads out his parting words are,
“i’ll have someone stitch you up kid, stay put”.
you lean back in the bed and continue to add pressure to your wounded hand. a few minutes pass and your sweet boyfriend stops by again. and takes a seat at the stool beside your bed. he has the tools to stitch up your hand. to distract you from the pain, chase sparks a conversation.
“your old man..” he chews the inside of his cheek. you know exactly what he’s gonna ask. “does he like me? and not as a co-worker. does he think i’m a good fit for his kid?”. your heart sank at the thought of robert thinking he’s not enough. truth is, your dad did like him. though he would never admit it, the fact robert makes you happy, makes your dad happy. he’s real bad at showing it, but you know it’s true.
“he’s a grump, chase. he likes you. he might never admit it. but the fact he hasn’t beaten you to death with that cane of his really says something.”. you can tell your reassurance helped. you loved robert, and he loved you too. before you knew it the stitches were finished. he pulled out a sling from a cabinet so you won’t irritate the stitches too much.
“hey, i’ll get your discharge papers. we’ll have you out of here soon”.
chase pressed a kiss to your lips this time, and he stayed there for a minute. hand on your jaw to keep you steady. you moved your lips in unison, running your free hand through his hair. a sharp pain stabbed your hand and caused you to pulled away and gasp. he reminded you to take some pain medication once home.
before he headed out the door, robert whips around and sternly demands,
“i don’t ever wanna see you in here again.”
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danikamariewrites · 4 months
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Just Us
Mob!Azriel x reader AU
A/n: part 2 is here! Although I don’t really like calling it a part two because I don’t see it as a series, I don’t have a better name for it so we’re just going to call it a series. I just see this as a universe with ongoing stories/one-shit fics and headcanons lol. Thank you for all the love this is getting though! I’m so happy so many of you want to be tagged for these posts ❤️
Warnings: none
Series Masterlist
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Digging out another option from Mor’s closet I start to panic. Azriel will be here in two hours to pick me up and it feels like every part of me is sweating from nerves. I wipe my hands on my leggings so I can grip the velvet hanger better. I turn to face the chaos Mor and Feyre have created. 
Shoes from each of their closests and mine, eyeshadow pallets, and even more clothing options cover every inch of Mor’s bedroom. It’s all so…intimidating. I’ve been on dates before, but none of those guys were ever worth half the effort I’m putting in for Azriel. Which is probably why I’m freaking out more than normal. 
As I lay out the dress on Mor’s bed my ears finally pick up what Feyre is joyously rambling about. “And then Gavin just backed off. I have never him seen him humbled so fast Mor, oh my gods. It was hilarious.” A small smile tugs at the corner of my lips. It was refreshing to see Gavin put in his place. Especially by someone like Azriel. 
I circle the bed eyeing my endless options for dresses. My attention lands on one of Feyre’s black velvet cocktail dresses. It has a corset type bodice with tank top straps and a pleated skirt. It’s perfect. 
Picking it up I break out into a wide grin. Feyre and Mor notice looking at me like proud parents. “What?” I ask with a slight giggle. “It’s just…you’re going on a real date. With a real man. I just feel so proud.” Mor squeaked out, wiping away fake tears. 
I shake my head letting out a shaky sigh. “I like this one, can I wear it, Fey?” “Of course babe. This is going to look amazing on you.” She starts gathering the other dresses as Mor begins to look for shoes to match. Sitting me on the bed Feyre grabs my face and purses her lips in thought. “How do you feel about a very light Smokey eye?” 
A knock on the front door - approximately two hours later - breaks my focus from applying mascara. “I’ll get it!” Mor yells from the living room. Just a few more strokes and I’ll be done. My hand shakes from anticipation. Maybe if I take longer he’ll get impatient and I won’t have to go. 
No, don’t think like that. I deserve a nice date. I shake my body and check myself over in the mirror one last time. I look hot thanks to my best friends' combined effort. “Ok,” I whisper. 
Heading out to the living room I can hear Mor and Feyre talking with him. Gods, I hope they’re avoiding embarrassing topics. When I round the corner my steps stutter. It’s not Azriel in the living room. It’s one of the males he brought into the gallery. The larger one of the two who winked at me. “There she is!” Mor said in a sing-song voice. 
I walk forward and the male reaches his hand out for me to shake. “Hi y/n, I’m Cassian.” I take his hand, his calluses are rough against my palm as I shake his hand. “Hi, I remember you from the gallery. If you don’t mind me asking, where’s Azriel?” I hate how small my voice sounds as I ask but I don’t want Cassian to feel like I’m not trusting him or his boss. Cassian smiles at me. “He’s already at the restaurant, he just sent me to pick you up.” I nod and say goodbye to Mor and Feyre before they push me out the door. 
Cassian opens the car door for me, taking my hand to help me up into the high SUV. I thank him before he shuts the door. The ride over to the restaurant was fast and quiet. I think Cassian could tell I’m nervous. When we pull up I notice the small parking lot was oddly empty. 
I audibly swallow, staring out the window at the front door. Cassian opens the door smiling at me with a boyish grin. “Cassian, can I ask you something?” “Sure thing.” Concern flashes across his face. The scar above his brow crinkling in. “I just…is he…” I can’t find the right words to ask my question correctly. Cassian seemed to pull himself up straighter. “I know you know his job but he’s not cruel. Azriel can be guarded at first but I think you’ll get through to him easily. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” He smiles at me again, squeezing my hand in encouragement. I sigh, tilting my head to the side. “You’ve only seen me twice.” “That’s all I need. I know my brother.” 
I nod and take Cassian’s hand again to step out of the car and he ushers me into the restaurant. As I look around I notice the dining room is empty. Most of the tables look like they have been cleared out so a special table could be set up in the middle of the room. Azriel is speaking to the chef and a male I assume is the owner. 
Cassian clears his throat behind me to get Azriel’s attention. When he turns it feels like all the air has been sucked from my lungs. My heart flutters at the bright smile he gives me. His hazel eyes light up as they look me up and down. I finally start breathing again when he stops in front of me. The scent of his cologne is intoxicating. The warm vanilla tones mixed with a light spice fills my nostrils. It’s comforting and makes me want to curl up next to him to breathe it in more. 
Azriel takes my hands in his large scarred ones, bringing them up to his lips to press light kisses across my knuckles. I didn't notice the scars marring them before. They were beautiful. Like a torrent, restless ocean. “You look absolutely stunning this evening.” A blush heats my cheeks, a small smile appearing on my lips from his compliment. “Thank you. You look handsome as well.” 
He drops my hands holding his arm out for me to take like he did in the gallery two days ago. Azriel continues being the gentleman that he is and pulls my seat out for me, pushing me back in, and listens to my answers when he asks me about myself. When it was my turn I asked about his childhood, which seemed to be quite normal given the amount of money his family has. I also couldn’t help but ask why the restaurant was empty.
Azriel sheepishly smiled, looking at his entree for a moment before admitting he bought the place out for the night. “I prefer first dates to be more…intimate, if you will.” I let out a hum, “So you do this for all the girls.” I joke. Azriel looked panicked for a moment. “No,” he got out quickly, “This is, you’re the first one I’ve ever done this for actually.” His voice getting quieter at the end.
My heart leaps at the confession. No one has ever put that much thought into a date with me before and I told him how much I appreciate this.  
“So, how did you get into art?” He asks over dessert. A delicoius crème brûlée with a perfect golden brown sugar coating. I break it with my spoon as I think about how to phrase my answer. "I've always loved art no matter what form it comes in. Paintings, sculpture, digital, all that stuff. I like that people appreciate something pretty or one of a kind, so if I can help them get their hands on it, it makes me happy."
I look at him, shoveling the sweet creamy treat in my mouth. Azriel smiles at me adoringly. Those hazel eyes twinkling with what I'd like to think is love. "That's amazing. Besides the two I got, how many paintings have you sold?" I let out a short, cold laugh thinking about how pissed Gavin was that I made a sale. "You were my first customer. and probably my last. As I know you heard my boss say I'm just an intern. I really should've called him but it was the end of the day so what was the harm."
Azriel shook his head. A dissaproving look takes over his beautiful face as he remembers the scene he walked in on yesterday. "I was ready to punch him." Azriel admits. "He had no right to talk to you like that. But I must say, you were a natural my dear. I probably wouldn't have bought the paintings wihtout your knowledge on them."
"Thank you." I say surprised that soemone didn't find my knowledge about art annoying.
When we finished the chef came out to say goodbye along with the owner. Azriel offered me his arm again but I took a chance twinning my fingers through his. We glance down at our joined hands. I smile lightly at the comfort I feel when I hold it. Azriel looks shocked that I would even go near his hands. "Is this ok?" I ask softly. He seems at a loss for words just nodding and staring at me like a boy realizing he has a crush for the first time.
The whole car ride back to my apartment Azriel doesn't let go of my hand. I rest them on my lap and gently rub my thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. When Cassian comes to stop in front of my apartment my heart sinks. I don't want Azriel to go. I'm not ready for tonight to be over.
"I got it Cass." Azriel says before Cassian can unbuckle. He leads me up the short steps, stopping on the landing. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Feyre and Mor crouched down on the couch. Their eyes just peeking over the window sill. Ignoring them I turn my attention back to Azriel who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we left the restaurant.
He slips his other hand in mine pulling me slightly closer to him. “I had a wonderful time with you. And I really want to see you again.” Without hesitation I say yes, “I’d love to.” Azriel’s smile seemed to get wider. I must say, he’s not at all what I thought he’d be like. Not knowing how to say goodbye we stumble over our words for a moment until Azriel’s expression became serious. His face mere inches from mine now. “Can I kiss you, y/n.” Something about my name on his lips just seemed so right. “Yes,” I whisper.
Azriel’s lips are like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The kiss is soft yet passionate and full of a desire I don’t think either of us would be able to sate. Pulling away for air I feel Azriel’s hands slip down my neck and pull away from my body. I hadn’t realized he was holding me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” I nod, speechless. The air once again sucked from my lungs.
I slowly open the front door giving him a small wave before shutting it. Leaning against the wood I listen for his graceful retreating footsteps, the car door, and the engine as Cassian takes off down the street.
My heart won’t stop pounding. I rest a hand over my chest, a stupid smile on my lips as I’m off in my own fantasy world.
tags (accounts I couldn’t tag in bold): @amara-moonlight @harrystylesfan2686 @kalulakunundrum @thinkingofmatthewfairchild @just-a-social-casualty-1 @insecuritieeseatmealive @teenageeggscissorslawyer @theladystardust @thehighladywrites @callmeblaire @luell1q @meshellexplosionmurder @verena9003 @starsinyoureyes @mich0731 @yourfutur3lov3r @samanthalynn13 @enchantedatheart
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rustedhearts · 2 months
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my funny valentine (steve harrington x fem!reader)
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summary: the hand-written evidence of an affair between high school sweethearts, displaced and reunited after war.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
♡ the library
♡ the record store
tags: “darling” used as reader insert name; infidelity; mention of war/violence; darling + steve are 35 at the time these letters are written. the time skip signifies lost letters (as they might, in actuality, get lost over the years)
"you make me smile with my heart...stay little valentine, please stay. each day is valentine's day."
— my funny valentine, ella fitzgerald
May 22nd, 1961
My Darling,
Please excuse this intrusion….I got your address from a neighbor. It was so lovely to see you today. I just couldn’t stand the thought of going one more moment without speaking more to you.
I couldn’t believe you thought me lost to you. Though, I cannot blame you for this train of thought. I was gone so long. It was silly to believe you would have waited all your life. Two years was long enough….I don’t blame you for moving on. But did you need to move to London? My Darling, it’s so far from home. I can excuse the new husband given my absence and its circumstance, but the distance will not do.
Nevertheless, I’m rambling. What I truly wanted to say, what I have longed to say since I boarded that train, and what I have wanted to say all day since seeing you on that wet little park bench in your fur coat….I still love you with all my heart. Is there any chance you still love me, too?
Yours,
Steve Harrington
May 24th, 1961
Sweet Steve,
Of course I still love you. You can imagine how confusing a feeling this is to me. Given the circumstance of a loving, successful husband found after such a long mourning period in which I now ponder the merit of….how could I still love you? It goes against all good graces which that of Almighty God intends for me.
But it doesn’t change the way my heart soars for you. The way it did when I saw you approach from across the pond in that tattered coat you’re still clinging to. Your hair is longer. I find it handsome.
I feel a sting of wrongdoing course through me as I etch these words down. Though I love you, Steve, we must not continue to write. Please tell me once what you endured, and then never more. I must have the answers I went so long without. I am allowing myself this selfishness.
However, when the tale is done, I cannot allow myself the selfishness of going on. My life has altered greatly since our time together, and my duties and responsibilities now lie elsewhere. I hope you can understand.
Sincerely,
Darling
May 30th, 1961
Darling girl,
I will begin first by disregarding the words that pierced me so. I will find it difficult to post this letter and think of it as the last of mine that you will ever read. Perhaps, by the end of it, you will have changed your mind.
When I left for Germany, it was as though we were thrown to the wolves. Peril and anguish and torment were all we knew. Myself, the men boys I fought with. We were all so young. Eighteen, twenty, the youngest seventeen. I cannot explain to you the horror of watching a young man’s arm blown off.
But you do not want to hear this. You want to hear of matters obtaining to you, of course. Answers you asked for and answers you shall retain. You’ve waited long enough.
When I returned to America two months after D-Day, I was bodily unscathed but no longer the man you knew. I found myself bound to fits of emotional and physical violence. Days of hysteria and madness that alarmed even my hostess. I was in no fit state to see you. I was, as well, thousands of miles away in California. So, when we were told to board for our way home, I did not go.
California was far enough that you could not find me and the man I had become.
My Darling, I wish I had sweeter excuses than these. I wish I could scrawl something of manly note, but…I owe you honesty. This, my sweet dear, is the honest truth. I was a hollow shell of the man you once knew. And I was afraid to return home to you.
Time in California fell like a whirlpool. A year had passed, and then two. By the time I had some handle on my fits, had worked through my madness and set home for you, you were gone. Your mother said ‘off to London,‘ and with a new beau to accompany you. A husband.
Something I was supposed to be.
Where I failed, I suppose he thrived. I hope you are happy, sweet girl.
Please, feel obliged to reply.
Yours still,
Steve
June 12th, 1961
Steve,
You always knew just how to sweeten the bitterness of goodbye. So much sweetness that I grow too sick to move through with it. Alas, that is why I’ve picked up my pen to write again. Curse you, Steve Harrington. You have such hold over me.
Now, I think it only right that I answer the questions you have not asked, but that I know you are curious of. Reggie is my husband, and we met two summers after the end of the war. I went so long pale and sick with grief, thinking I lost you to Heaven. I had come to terms with this, buried any idea that you might come home.
Reggie was a businessman, in town for dealings. He hails from London, which is the swift explanation for my immigration here. Our love was quick and easy, and when he asked me to marry him on our fifth date, I had no reason not to say yes. You were, in the mind of a young girl engaged to a soldier that did not come home, gone. There was no vow or promise being broken.
I would, however, be breaking all promises of honesty under God if I were to say I have not thought of you in these past years.
I feel an indescribable ache for your suffering, and all the suffering of young men in a similar state to yours. I take your words as oath, as I promised to do so many years ago...which is why I can assure that my heart weeps for you so. Not just for your suffering, but for your company. I think it always might.
Might we allow ourselves one more act of selfishness? An act in the park, Sunday afternoon?
Please return soon.
Darling
June 14th, 1961 Darling,
I would be happy to oblige you in the park on Sunday. Will 2:00 do? Though, you were always an admirer of early morning strolls. Perhaps 10? You always did love a bird call.
Every post from you makes my heart soar, Darling. Did you know? The prospect of keeping your company for even a few hours has me yearning for a busy week, if only to keep the impatience at bay. I meant it truly when I wished your happiness. Fondly, Steve
June 15th, 1961
Steve,
Yes, 10:00 will do. I will be there, wearing my fur coat.
Eagerly awaiting,
Darling
June 20th, 1961 My Darling, Oh I cannot scrub my mind free of this torment. Our act of selfishness I knew to be tempting, but now I am delirious. If I thought my need for you was strong before, it is insufferably so now. You were so beautiful in your coat, in your plum dress. The color compliments your skin so well. I have not seen your eyes that closely in years. Only in photographs, that I horde and selfishly admire in the depths of dark nights, have I seen those eyes of late. And now here they were, staring up at me. With such blatant love as they did once before. Yes, my Darling, I saw all of it there. Are we to go on lying to ourselves, saying we're better off? Our time has passed, it has been so long, yes. Yes, I know it. But I know also that I cannot go another day without making up for the time lost between. Darling girl, please be selfish with me. Please live our days selfishly for as long as we might have. Yours, Steve
June 22nd, 1961
Steve,
I pride myself for honesty, so I will satisfy you with my brief agreement. My heart thumped so wildly in the park on Sunday that I thought it might break free from my body. Would you catch it in your hands if it had? Would you crush it? Oh, Steve, it has always belonged to your hands. The love you detected was not an illusion. It never died, not even across the sea.
Yet, what of Reggie? I love him dearly, as well, though maybe never quite like I did you. He is, nevertheless, my husband. We have grown to live such a wonderful life. And yes, we cannot have children, but we are finding ways to fill this void. The void will only grow, I fear, if I continue to be selfish with you. I will find new gaps and black holes in our life together, and I cannot be unhappy in a marriage that is sufficiently content.
Please do not ask this of me. My heart cannot bear to say no.
Yours,
Darling
June 24th, 1961 Darling, I know you are frightened, but might our love be stronger than this fear? Please do not deny me, I might break entirely apart. Do you not see the predicament we are in? To lose so many years, yet find each other in a completely different part of the world from where we were born. Is it not an act of God stringing us together again? One night, my sweet Darling. If not an eternity as we once intended, one night will suffice. Please do not say no. Yours waiting, Steve
June 27th, 1961
Sweet Steve,
I have been awake for days, ailing over your proposal. Know I do not intend to make any decision without a full realization of every consequence. To deny you would leave me with an ache like no other forever plagued on my heart. To accept, I would part ways with the very peace of mind that my marriage is pure of all faults as it is now, and was before you.
Attach the address of your hotel.
Yours,
Darling
June 29th, 1961 Oh my Darling, I believe I read over your words so frequently and at such a swift pace that my eyes are still sore. Attached is the address of my stay, and know I will be waiting no matter the hour. Come as you please, whenever you wish. I will be at the door. To hold you in my arms again is all I can live for in the hours between. Yours, Steve
July 3rd, 1961
Steve,
The loveliest of nights has passed between us, and yet I feel sick with the wrongness of our sheer audacity. Entangled in your arms, wrapped in those cotton sheets just feeling your breath and your flesh as it always was...I cannot think of a better mercy. For our suffering, for our loss. But will I obtain God's forgiveness when the day is to come? For what I have done to Reggie, I think this always a stain on my conscience.
Yet, some sort of delirium has come over me since that night. I seem incapable of clear thinking. If it is stained, let it be stained.
Please write to the attached P.O box from now on. I cannot risk interception, but I cannot risk a silence from you.
My darling Steve, will you stay?
Yours entirely,
Darling
July 5th, 1961 Darling, You cannot fathom how long I have waited to hear these words. Yes, I will stay. Yes, I will be yours, if you shall be mine. The hours allowed to us are the brightest of my days. I will find permanent residence somewhere in traveling distance so long as it allows me proximity to your love. Please come soon. I miss you terribly. Love, Steve
September 19th, 1961 Darling, You were upset last we parted, and my wish to quell your ailing grows stronger by the hour. I have grown to know your marriage and your Reggie as you have told, and I know now he cannot make you happy. I could make you happy, delightfully happy. The children you have always wanted are in our future, I know this is true. Please, change your mind and say yes, and we can have it. The future you crave, the future you deserve. Adventure, and intrigue, and passion that he cannot fathom. I have stared into the depths of your soul, and have bared all parts of my own. Can you say the same of him? Please, my Darling girl. I only think of you. Yours, Steve
September 22nd, 1961
Steve,
It is with aching eyes and a sore, sinking heart that I have prepared this for you. Know the walk to post it felt like a march to the death. In some way, this is death. Part of me, sealed away by your sweet kisses, and tender touches, and all those long hours whispering secrets in the dark. Part of me will always live in these moments, and that part of me has died.
I cannot leave Reggie, and your request of such leaves nowhere for our selfishness to go. We must not go on like this. Not if we are to live full and fulfilling lives without secret and pain. It is too much for one heart to bear. Were we to go on, it would kill me entirely. I must sacrifice a small part to save the whole. Oh, my love, I hope you understand. I hope you can forgive me.
Yours, now and always,
Darling
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clemsnovalak · 21 days
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debut(ish) race // ms47
pairing: mick schumacher x mercedes employee!reader
word count: 1030
summary: in which you accompany your boyfriend to his first race as a mercedes driver. sort of a part 2 to february 1st, but you can read it as a standalone too:)
warnings: bit of swearing? i wrote this in literally an hour just now and haven’t proofread it + my german is rusty + author forcing her music taste onto you (i was listening to ski aggu and got inspired)
radio check: I’M BACK !!!! for now. enjoy. sorry if the formatting is weird im like copy pasting to my phone
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Being in the paddock was exciting. Even though you had a million and one things on your mind at all times, there was something absolutely exhilarating and oddly stress-relieving about being on site instead of cooped up in your cozy little office back at Brackley.
This weekend, though, you had a million and two things on your mind. Mick was making his debut as a Mercedes driver this weekend, and you, of course, were tagging along.
Sure, you’d been in the paddock with Mick and seen him race time and time again, but showing up to a race with Haas and showing up with Mercedes were two very different things. You could tell he was trying not to show his nerves during the car ride from your hotel to the racetrack, but his choice in music gave him away easily.
“Mick, love, it’ll be fine,” you assure him, reaching for his hand to squeeze it. “If you psych yourself out that’s not going to help anyone.”
“What? I’m not psyching myself out,” he says with a frown. He’s always found it slightly unsettling how easily you can read him—it’s not your fault he’s emotionally built like a learn to read picture book.
You raise an eyebrow. “Right, and you listen to your shitty German pop playlist unironically now?”
Your boyfriend gasps, turning to you as he pulls into his designated parking spot. “Ski Aggu is not shitty pop, do not do him like that. I’m just trying a new way to hype myself up this weekend is all. Start some new pre-race traditions by supporting German artists and all that.”
“Oh, of course, my bad,” you say. “And since you’re so confident, you don’t need me to bring back the pre-paddock entry good luck kiss tradition this year?”
Mick has never pouted more in his entire life, you think, than he is right now. “Well now you’re putting words into my mouth, schatz. If you break the tradition now, it could have disastrous effects on my performance this weekend. This whole season, even!”
He’s gesticulating wildly to emphasize his point, and you can’t help but laugh at his dramatics. Another one of his nervous habits—rambling on about nothing to take his mind off of what was stressing him. You don’t interrupt, letting him go on for a bit longer until he realizes you’re looking at him expectantly.
“I was rambling, wasn’t I?” he asks.
“Little bit.”
Mick turns and looks at the time on the car dashboard, eyes widening. “Shit, we’re late. Okay, pre-paddock good luck kiss now and I’ll see you again before I go into the car?”
You nod, unbuckling your seatbelt and opening the passenger door. One of your silly superstitions was not walking into the paddock together when you came along for races. When your relationship was still new—that is, before you’d made it official to the people around you—Mick was still at Haas and you were working trackside at Mercedes for the first time. You entered the paddock through a back entrance to avoid the crowd and met up with Mick between two hospitalities to wish him luck before the race without raising any suspicions. He went on to score his first points that weekend, and since then you’ve insisted on not walking in together for good luck.
You never claimed to be less superstitious than him.
“Of course. I’m going to go get some work done in hospitality, but I’ll see you in the garage. Tell Esteban I say hello, please.”
Before heading your separate ways, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend and kiss him softly—God knows you’d go further, but this was neither the time nor the place for that. Post-race celebration, perhaps.
You kept your promise, electing to get some work done in an empty office to pass the time and heading down to the garage promptly as Mick was suiting up to get into the car. When you arrive, you stand next to Bono, who hands you a pair of noise-cancelling headphones.
“Bono, good to see you,” you greet, putting the headphones over your ears. You adjust them slightly to be able to partake in the conversation.
“Likewise. How was your winter break?”
“Oh, you know, math, math, and more math,” you say with a laugh. “Mick might have had time off, but the accounting grind never stops.”
“Tell me about it,” he sighs, “I felt like a uni student working on physics problem sets again. Seems like everyone’s work has paid off, though. We’re feeling good for today.”
Mick spots you as he’s putting in his earpieces and makes a beeline to where you’re standing as Bono turns to talk to the tyre engineer.
“I wish they’d let me play music in the car. I bet listening to Maximum Rizz would improve my driving tenfold,” he laments.
“I’m inclined to agree, but I don’t think Bono would appreciate you turning the race into a karaoke session when he’s trying to relay important information.”
He grabs your hand and squeezes it thrice, and you squeeze thrice back.
“Viel Glück, viel Spaß, wir sehen uns nach dem Rennen, ich liebe dich,” you whisper.1
“Ich liebe dich auch,” Mick replies, giving you a quick nod before turning around to finish getting ready.2
Mick, to the surprise of no one except maybe haters on the internet, finishes in fourth, just barely outside the podium. You manage to keep your excitement at bay until you’re both in his driver room afterwards, at which point you start jumping around like a teenager who’s just scored tickets to see their favourite artist live.
“You’re, like, basically the GOAT at this point,” you tell Mick, who’s lying down half asleep on the couch. “I’m telling you; I’ve started a betting pool with some of the engineers on you winning a championship in the next three years.”
“Okay, schatz, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here,” your boyfriend says with a laugh. “But I do think I’m going to start listening to my shitty German pop playlist on the way to every race now.”
“So you admit it! It is shitty pop!”
translation notes (again pls lmk if i’ve made any mistakes):
1 good luck, have fun, i love you
2 i love you too
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junglyric · 6 months
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Dreaming...
...in which two shy lovebirds decide it's time for physical intimacy.
a/n: I took a little morning nap, and my brain did this. Enjoy.
tags: shy!Seungmin, cunnilingus, fingering (fem receiving), humping, groping, new love, implied cream pie, passionate love-making
“Yn, baby, I’ve been thinking.” Seungmin spoke as he rubbed small circles into his lover’s shoulder. It was a lazy Sunday morning, the two chose to stay in bed longer than usual. They ate breakfast, and returned to their shared bed to spoon; a random show played in the background while they enjoyed each other’s company. “Really? That isn’t like you!” Yn snorts back, earning a small pinch from Seungmin. She tickles him in response, transforming him into the tickle monster;“OKAY MINNIE I'M SORRY!” Yn squeals as Seungmin flips so he is on top of her, tickling her most sensitive parts. Their tickle fight lessened the nerves Seungmin was feeling about confessing his fears about their sex life.
He and yn had been dating around six months, meeting at the final piece of the Maniac tour. Yn caught his eye at the Atlanta show, straight out of a watt pad fantasy. The piece of the fantasy that was missing, however, was the sticky, hot sex. Seungmin had some experience at the end of high school, but being an idol made his dating life complicated. Yn, however, was a beautiful coed from the USA, who had her share of fun in her college years. She often joked she’d be a porn star if she weren’t so shy, which intimidated the young idol. What if he didn't measure up to her past lovers? And literally, what if he isn’t big enough? These thoughts plagued him, so any time he felt them getting too steamy, he’d cool them down. His hyungs reminded him that yn chose him for a reason, and even if he were the worst lay in the world she'd still love him. In fact, she'd teach him, if only he’d ask. So, with the confidence his brothers instilled in him, he rolled them over so yn was on top of him. She sat back, so she straddled his hips, “seriously, love, what did you want to talk about?” She punctuates the last word by moving his bangs out of his face, showing his lovely forehead and eyebrows (this is a forehead!Seungmin Stan account sorry).
Seungmin stared into his lover’s eyes, unsure how to proceed;“I-I want to have sex with you!” He blurts out, shocking yn with the sudden outburst. “Sorry, I’m nervous about it, it's not that you’re not attractive, it's just that I am worried I won't satisfy you. Remember that guy you told me about, with the horse cock? Well I don't have that, and I don't think my fingers can reach your g-spot and—” yn placed a finger on his lips to stop his rambling. She kissed him deeply, deeper than they’d ever done, sucking his tongue into her mouth. She answered his silent questions with her body, a slow motion taking over their shared hips. Seungmin made the most beautiful noises, whispers of “oh God” and “mhmm”, with yn’s favorite being the soft whimpers he let slip. Their kisses became sloppier, mostly due to yn salivating over the growing bulge in Seungmin’s sweats. “May I?” She asks, gently cupping his balls through his sweats. He nods furiously, sitting up and quickly ridding himself of his pajamas. Yn did the same, leaving their bodies bare to each other for the first time. A blush crept across Seungmin’s face as he couldn’t help but stare at his lover’s frame, his eyes locked on her ample thighs meeting the roll of her belly. He swallowed hard, trying so hard not to cum and ruin the moment. “Baby, you’re even sexier than my imagination when I jerk off…Can I eat you out?”
That’s how yn ended up on her back, knees to her chest as Seungmin, who swore he’d disappoint, latched on to her clit like it would provide all the nutrition he’d ever need. He tongue fucked her like an expert, his perfect nose nudging where his tongue previously inhabited. He stopped holding yn’s thighs so he could go deeper, using his gorgeous fingers to explore her velvet walls. His cock vibrated with the anticipation of feeling her warmth hug it, soaking it with her arousal. He was pulled from his thoughts by yn screeching, nearing her peak by the second. “F-FU-FUCK MINNIE… I CAN'T…YOURE GOING TO MAKE ME C-CUM…IF YOU KEEP DOING THAT.. MHMMM ..PLEASE…AgHHHH… I—” Seungmin hummed as he kept going, just as yn craved. She came so hard she saw stars, whimpering and making grabby hands at her man, suddenly feeling vulnerable. It had been far too long since she had a full-body orgasm, and she almost fell deep into sub space with no safety net. “I’m here baby, you did so well for me, took my fingers so good.” Seungmin purred into her ear as he rubbed her sides, bringing her back to earth as she softly shuddered. “Uh, I don’t, um what now?” He asked shyly, avoiding yn’s lust-filled gaze as he looked down at his raging hard-on.
It took a bit of maneuvering, partly due to the height difference, and a little due to the curve of Seungmin’s long, leaking cock, but he lined up with her hole, and pushed forward. The gasp that left his pretty lips was heavenly, toned abs contracting in absolute ecstasy. “Keep pushing baby, that’s just the tip. I want more,” yn pouted, reaching between them to grip his length, ensuring the angle stayed perfect. Seungmin didn't realize it, but his upward curve was perfect for yn’s soaking heat, his ample length pushing against her g-spot as he entered. She quivered and whimpered as he bottomed out, the chubby head kissing her a-spot perfectly with every deep stroke. The two were overcome with emotion as they finally introduced physical intimacy into their relationship, taking it one slow stroke at a time. Seungmin wrapped his lover in a bear hug as he drilled into her with the passion of a thousand wolves, headboard snapping against the wall, mattress squeaking as their grunts and moans filled the air. Seungmin wanted to etch yn’s face into his head forever, her almond eyes filled with love and desire, brows furrowed in pleasure as he touched her in more ways than one. “Come with me, please baby?” Seungmin panted as he moved yn’s sloppy hair out of her face. She nodded peacefully, and he continued his build up. They shared a chaste kiss as they peaked, hips stuttering and eyes rolling as they reached their shared orgasm.
Still connected, they returned to their spooning position; “I love you so much, Seungmin. I hope you never let me go,” yn cooed as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“I wouldn’t dream of it dear,” he replied as he smiled into her hair. They drifted back to sleep, though it didn't last, because Seungmin’s dreams drifted to yn, her ample bust bouncing as he pounded into her from behind, her hands reaching back to spread her cheeks wider…
“Minnie, I know you’re awake. Do you want to try the thing you’re thinking of?”
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moni-logues · 8 months
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Kintsugi 5
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Pairing: Yoongi x reader
Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff
Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.
Word count: 7.2k
Content: depression, self-harm (cutting)
A/N: first and foremost, please read the warnings; there's literally only two and one is a pretty significant one so plleeeeasssseeee take heed!!!!!! And let me know if there's anything else I should be tagging for it. Feels too flip for me to ramble in my usual way here given the content of this chapter, so just to say be safe, and I hope you like it! Thank you to my betas @amethystwritesbts @quarter-life-crisis2 @here2bbtstrash
Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six
Chapter Five - The other shoe
The sun was shining and birds were singing and you wished you were a character in a musical so you could burst into (tuneless) song and run across a field in a circle skirt. You hadn’t felt this good for a long, long time.  
“Looks like someone’s in a good mood,” was Taehyung’s greeting to you as you plopped down in your chair next to him. “You get laid or something?” 
You had, in fact, got laid last night. It had been even more anxiety-inducing than you had thought it would be, particularly given that Sungbin was a verified Greek god of a man and, well, your body had been through a little since the last time you were fully naked in front of someone new. You had put your body through a lot. The body keeps the score and it also shows the scars. You did not tend to keep them on display and you had hesitated and become awkward and flustered when you remembered them, when you realised he was going to see them, going to see what you had done to yourself.  
He didn’t mention them. He didn’t make it weird. He didn’t avoid them nor did he bring extra attention to them. He acted as if they weren’t there at all. Then he made you come until you were seeing stars.  
“That good, huh?”  
It had been that good. Or maybe it had just been a long time. Either way.  
“I think I’m going to fall in love with him, for real,” you said, all dreamy and moon-eyed, staring at your computer screen and seeing nothing but love hearts. 
“Girly...” Taehyung’s voice had a slight warning note but you let it wash over you. 
“I know, I know, but seriously. I feel happy, Teddy. Legitimately happy. I feel like I can see a future unfolding, a future I might actually want to live in.” 
“With Sungbin?” 
You shrugged. 
“Sure, why not?” 
He didn’t answer, not really. You could feel his reluctance; you could almost hear all the questions he wanted to ask. You let him think them. You weren’t going to let anyone burst this bubble.  
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“What are we doing this weekend, chick?”  
You looked up from your desk and took the coffee cup in Taehyung’s outstretched hand. He sat down next to you. 
“What do you mean ‘what are we doing this weekend’?” 
“What do you mean ‘what do you mean “what are we doing this weekend”’?” 
“What do you mean-” 
“No, I’m serious. We always do something, but I haven’t seen you for weeks now.” 
“Teddy, we are together every day. You’re seeing me right now!” 
“That’s not the same and you know it! You’re reserving all your time for Sungbin these days.” 
“That’s not true.” 
Not entirely. He wasn’t being fair. It was true that you had seen Taehyung a little less over the past month or so but it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him at all. You had someone else in your life now; you would’ve thought Taehyung would have been a little relieved to get some time back, to be honest. 
“Well, what about you?” you asked. “You’re spending all your time with the barista.” 
“Hyunjin. And I’m really not. I still have plenty of time for my other friends. For you.” 
“Are you suggesting that I’m not making time for you?” 
He shrugged.  
“I know you’re really into Sungbin right now and things are going well and that’s great. I’m genuinely fucking stoked for you and I hope that it’s everything you want it to be, but I feel a little tossed aside, yeah. Especially because I’m the one who’ll have to pick up any pieces if it goes south.” 
That hurt. Coming from Taehyung, that really hurt. 
“Why do you think it’ll go south?” 
“I’m not saying that it will but you’re honeymooning hard right now and it kind of feels like you’re putting a lot of eggs into one basket. You’re ditching me to spend all your time with a guy you’ve know-” 
“I’m not ditching you!” 
“I’m just saying you’re letting yourself be taken over by this. You haven’t seen me outside of work for ages. I know you didn’t go to therapy last wee-” 
“How do you know that?” 
“I know when your appointments are and you were posting on Instagram with a cocktail in your hand at the time.” 
“What makes you think I didn’t rearrange the session?” 
“Did you?” 
No, you didn’t. You skipped that one. Just one. That would hardly hurt. And you were feeling so happy right now, the need for therapy had receded a little, dipping past the horizon, not entirely out of sight, but almost out of mind.  
“That is exactly what I’m saying-” 
“No, what exactly are you saying? Is this about wanting to see me more or is it about telling me that me and Sungbin are going to crash and burn?” 
You could feel tears burn in your eyes and you desperately wanted not to cry. You always cried. All the time. It was exhausting and embarrassing and you were at work, right now – you didn’t have time for this.  
Taehyung’s eyes softened and this made your tears well even more.  
“I’m saying that I miss you and I’m worried. You are acting like he’s fixed you, like the only problem in your life was that you were single and now you’re not so everything must be perfect. But that’s not how things work and I don’t want you to get hurt.” 
“I’m not stupid,” you spat, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t think he’s fixed me. I think he likes me. And I like him. And we are together-” 
“Are you?” 
“What?” 
“Have you had that conversation? Are you together?” 
“Well-… What about you and Hyunjin? Have you had that conversation?” 
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’re keeping it casual for now.” 
You didn’t like the sound of that. You hadn’t talked to Sungbin about it because you didn’t think you had to. You thought you were on the same page. Isn’t that what dating was? You dated and then, if you kept dating, you were in a relationship. It was automatic, by default. Why would you date someone if you didn’t want to keep doing it? If you didn’t imagine a relationship with the person, what was the point?  
You managed to blink your tears away but an uneasiness had settled in your stomach. What if you’d got it all wrong? Did Sungbin want to keep it casual? You didn’t. It was already too late for that. You were a goner. 
Maybe Taehyung was right. 
Was he? 
You sniffed. 
“Well maybe Sungbin and I aren’t.” 
“Does he know that?”  
Fresh tears. Anxiety. Your old friend insecurity crawling up your throat again. You should have known that this was coming, that there was a line you needed to acknowledge and either cross together or not at all. It hadn’t been like this with San because you had known each other so well before you got together, it really had been a foregone conclusion. This time, though... And there was so much Sungbin didn’t know about you, so much you knew you would have to share at some point and didn’t want to. The thought of revealing your ugliest self to him – to him, a flawless specimen of a man, inside and out, his parents’ pride, and the person you thought most about – was nauseating.  
You stood and walked off to the printers, pausing there only long enough for you to realise there was nothing you could pretend to print. Then you carried on to the kitchen, making yourself another coffee, even as the one Taehyung brought you was sitting, steaming, on your desk. 
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“I’ve been thinking,” you began, sitting across from Sungbin at an outside table, running your finger up the wet glass of your iced latte. “What are you doing for Halloween?” 
He looked a little taken aback. 
“Halloween? In October?” 
“Yeah!” 
You held your palm tight against your glass, the discomfort of the cold playing distraction. You were trying to be casual about this. It was normal. Of course you’d make plans. Why wouldn’t you? You fought off the voice in the back of your head saying that you wouldn’t if you were just ‘keeping things casual’. That was why you had to ask.  
“I... have no idea yet. It’s only August.” 
“That is true, but I’ve been thinking. Teddy always has this massive party for Halloween and does costumes and everything and I would like, this year, to outdo him.” 
The party thing was true. Taehyung did throw one every year. And he did always have a good costume... You also always had a good costume, because he planned and bought it for you, but Sungbin didn’t need to know that part.  
“Wow, if he’s planning it this early, it must be big.” 
“Oh, no, he’s not yet, but I want to get a head start. Like I said, this year I think we can beat him at his costume game.” 
“We?” 
“Yeah, there are so many good couple costumes out there; it’ll make more of an impact if we do it together, right? Two is more than one etc.” 
“Right, yeah, uh... Sure.” 
“We don’t have to decide right now, but get your thinking cap on. I am going to destroy Teddy this year and you’re going to do it with me!” 
He chuckled a little and you thought this was good. Halloween was, as he suggested, months away, but he hadn’t said no. That counted for something. You ploughed on. 
“Also, what do you think to a double date?” 
“Oh. Um, who with?” 
“Teddy and Hyunjin. They actually got together the night we met! Might be fun. Also, to be honest, I really want Teddy to meet you. It’s been long enough, haha; you need his seal of approval!” 
“A test?” 
“Yep. He’s my bestie so he has to approve.” 
“Right. Yeah... Ok. You and he are really close, then?” 
“Yep. And, besides, it gets to a point where someone’s seen you have enough breakdowns that you have to keep them close: he knows too much!” 
There was a pause and you could see Sungbin considering his words. You fought the urge to move it on, to brush over it, to drop a hundred words a second to blow past it. But you also just had to... check, to let him know, to try to drip-feed him the information you, truthfully, didn’t want him to have but knew that he had to have, if this was ever going to be serious. It made you anxious, slowly revealing your brokenness to him, pushing him closer and closer to the threshold at which he might say ‘stop, that’s enough; I don’t want you anymore’. He hadn’t yet, but you’d barely begun.  
“Breakdowns, huh?” 
“Yep. Although, actually, while it was Teddy who held me together after the break-up, it was my ex who really did the heavy lifting before that.” 
Sungbin nodded thoughtfully and you didn’t know if you imagined his eyes flicking down to your thighs or not. Probably imagined. But it wasn’t like the two didn’t go hand in hand. 
“Sounds rough.” 
“It was. Both times, haha.” 
He nodded again. 
That was enough, you thought. That had to be enough disclosure for now. You could feel it pressing on you, like the oppressive summer humidity; you felt stifled by your exposure, almost a little giddy with the force of your discomfort. If this is what it was like, revealing your darkness to someone, you crossed all your fingers, hoped, and prayed that this thing with Sungbin would last so that you would never have to do it again.  
You went home with him that night and there was a background buzz of something in your head, this kind of vertigo-swirling of standing too close to the edge of a cliff, an unsteadiness of foot that Sungbin was able to kiss away but which came back two-fold when you were lying naked in his bed. You tried to look at yourself, discreetly, objectively; what did you look like to him? Was he looking at you differently now, tonight, armed with new knowledge? What did he really know? What had he taken from the things you had said? You didn’t want to ask him, didn’t want to talk about it more, didn’t want to have to explain and elucidate and make explicit things that you hoped he would infer.  
He didn’t seem different, then, didn’t turn off the light or kiss you goodnight any differently from the way he had before. Maybe it was fine. Maybe your brokenness wasn’t fatal. Or so you could dream. 
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“Last day, baby!” you cried when Yoongi put his bag on the counter at your very last baking session. 
“So it is,” he replied, cool as ever. 
You shoved him. 
“Be excited! We made it! We’re bakers!” 
He rolled his eyes and grinned. 
“A rather generous term for yourself, isn’t it?” 
You shoved him again. 
“How dare you? Do I need to remind you of last week’s triumph? Or should I say my triumph and your tragedy?” 
You weren’t being entirely fair. Yoongi’s buns had failed because he had taken on the risk of your illicit ingredient, allowing you to follow the recipe correctly. It was gallant, really. He even said that his buns were alright, not that bad, kind of ok which you knew without having to try them was untrue.  
“Should I remind you who is responsible for my tragedy?” 
“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
You grinned at each other and started unpacking your bags. It felt easy between the two of you now. Long gone was your anxiety that used to accompany Thursday evenings, that gnawing embarrassment and glowing shame that you used to feel in Yoongi’s proximity, sure that you were the worst person in the world and that he wanted to get away from you, desperate as you were for his friendship and approbation. You didn’t have to be desperate anymore, because you had it. You were friends. In the spirit of said friendship, you had agreed to celebrate your last baking class tomorrow, so you could get as drunk as you liked without having to suffer the consequences in the office. 
“Generous term,” you scoffed, looking at your layered cake at the end of the session, assembled and decorated and still standing. “How very dare you. Look at what I’ve made! I’m a genius!” 
Yoongi laughed quietly and swiped a finger through the buttercream frosting on top before you could swat his hand away. He put it to his mouth. 
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” 
“Not bad!” 
You swiped a finger through the frosting on top of his cake. 
“Yours tastes like shit.” 
“Well, now you’re just being mean and I won’t let you have a slice.” 
“Fine.” You turned your back on him to put some things in your bag and then turned back. “I didn’t want to eat your shit cake, anyway!” 
“You had better be careful or I’ll bring this as dessert for tomorrow.” 
You gasped. 
“You wouldn’t dare.” 
Yoongi turned to face you head-on, a smirk on his lips, mischief in his eyes. 
“Wouldn’t I?” 
You mirrored his expression and crossed your arms. 
“I won’t let you in my apartment.” 
“Not even for the booze?” 
You faltered. You didn’t buy the expensive shit that he did. You still fully believed that expensive alcohol didn’t give you such bad hangovers. You didn’t want to lose this spat, didn’t want to come out of the bit, but also didn’t want to say no to booze. 
“You can leave the booze on my doorstep and go.” 
Yoongi broke first and laughed loud, tipping his head back. 
“You’re spoilt,” he said. 
You sniffed haughtily. 
“I deserve nice things.” 
Then he gave you that smile that he did sometimes, warm and soft, that made you feel like a broken open caramel truffle, oozing and sweet and sticky, like the two of you were stuck together, sugary fingerprints on your skin and a brown sugar taste on your lips. It was like a secret smile, for special occasions; you wondered who else got to see it.  
“Yeah, you do,” he agreed. “Which is why I’m bringing this cake to dinner tomorrow!” 
You groaned and pretended to fall, dead, to the floor. Yoongi laughed again.  
“I mean it.” He packed the last of his things in his bag. “I’m going to bring this and you’re going to eat it and like it.” 
“Over my dead body.” 
“If I recall correctly, I do, in fact, owe you a murder, so that can certainly be arranged.” 
You both laughed this time and you could think of much worse ways to go, much worse last things to see before you died. Yoongi picked up his stuff and his cake and turned to leave. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
“With bells on!” you called after him. 
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You had taken the Friday afternoon off, just to make sure you had enough time to shop and prepare and, gulp, cook dinner for Yoongi who you were expecting that evening. It was a celebration of your finishing the class but it was also a sign of intention, a new set-up for this kindling friendship that didn’t have anywhere else to meet. You’d take turns: one of you would cook and one would bring dessert and you’d alternate fortnightly. You weren’t sure whether you’d got the short straw to be tasked with dinner first or if you’d rather it were this way. You got the feeling Yoongi was a good cook and you didn’t want to have to follow that, but it felt like a lot of pressure being the first to host. You felt a little embarrassed of your shoebox apartment and cheap things and you knew Yoongi would never care—you knew he would understand completely—but it made you feel a little small, that this was all you had to offer.  
Never mind, you said to yourself. He didn’t care and neither would you. It wasn't about the venue; it wasn’t even really about the food. It was about the company. It was about making a space and a time for you and Yoongi to hang out. It was about making a commitment to taking your friendship outside of its bounds and cultivating it. That was what mattered and that was all you needed to focus on.  
You were scrolling on your phone, looking for recipes when a message from Sungbin came in. 
Sungbin: hey I’m wfh today. I'm about to have lunch can you come over? 
Obviously, the answer was yes. You did your best to make yourself look presentable in a rush and hot-footed it across the river to him.  
“I ordered food, hope that’s ok,” Sungbin said as he gestured to the dining table where two bags of lunch had been placed. 
“Sure! I’ll eat whatever.” 
It felt a little strained, like the world had twisted itself into an uncomfortable position, but you put it down to the fact that you had never been to his apartment during the day before. He was also working; maybe he hadn’t shrugged off his focus yet. His job was still new and still stressful and this lunch was interrupting it. He was quiet as he sat down and you felt stifled. He ate a forkful and another. Then he put his fork down. 
“Thanks for coming all this way. I really wanted to speak to you but work is really hectic so I can’t get away.” 
“Yeah, no worries! I have this afternoon off anyway, so it’s no big deal.” 
“Oh right. Good. Um.” 
You thought to yourself that you were getting good at this: letting silence reign. Maybe it was all the time you’d spent with Yoongi; maybe it was all the time you’d spent in therapy. Maybe it was a sign that you weren’t letting your anxiety run your mouth anymore – even if you really, really wanted it to. 
“I thought we should talk,” is how he began. 
“About what?” Your guts twisted as you asked. 
“I know you were talking the other day about all sorts of plans and things and I just wanted to be clear about... where we are. What we are.” 
“Oh, right.” Your voice was airy and thin, even your lungs being squeezed by this cold-creeping fear working through your body. 
“I really enjoy spending time with you and I’d like to continue that but, ah, I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t want... a relationship, y’know? I just moved here and I’m still finding my feet and getting to know everyone and everything and I don’t want to, uh, settle into anything? And I get the feeling that... you do. I didn’t want, um, wires to be crossed or uh, I didn’t want things to get complicated or- I just thought we should talk before it went on any longer. I wanted to just make myself clear. I would like to keep seeing you but I think you want... more than I do. If I’m wrong, just tell me, sorry if I’ve assumed but I, uh, just, get the feeling...” 
“Right.”  
Your eyes were already blurry with tears. Here it was. The other shoe dropping. Taehyung was right. Sungbin didn’t want you. Not really. He knew who you were and he didn’t want you. You tried to tiptoe into it; you tried to slowly heat the water in the pan but you’d overcooked it. The frog was jumping out. You wanted more. Too much. More than he wanted. He didn’t want you. He didn’t want you that much. He didn’t want your broken parts. He didn’t want your ugliness. He saw your scars and he heard of your breakdowns and he knew that was ‘more’, too much. He didn’t want to carry you. He would have to carry you if you went on for too much longer. You had to be carried because that’s who you were: you weren’t enough, not even enough to lift yourself up. All your good parts, the shiny parts, the parts you thought you had in you somewhere... It wasn’t enough.  
“It’s not-” Sungbin was trying to start again, to explain, to let you down even more gently. “I like you; I think you’re a cool person and we have fun. I just can’t commit to more than that. I don’t want to lead you on or pretend this is going somewhere it’s not. Y’know, I really appreciate you making all these plans and things but that’s just- it's really, well, it’s a bit too much for me right now. Do you know what I mean?” 
You nodded and hummed and bit your lip to stop it wobbling. Your face was burning with embarrassment: that you were being dumped, that you were crying about it when this hadn’t even been real to start with. It had never been what you thought it was. It was just fun. You had pictured parties and holidays and walking off into the sunset but that was just you. It had never been that for Sungbin.  
He didn’t want you. Like a woodpecker pecking at your skull, it hit you again and again: he didn’t want you. He didn’t want you. You tried to show yourself to him and then he didn’t want you. You took him to your water’s edge and he decided not to swim. You should have seen this coming. You should have heeded Taehyung’s warnings. You should have had this conversation before now.  
You could feel yourself spiralling, crumbling, sitting at his table with an uneaten salad bowl in front of you. You couldn’t speak because you didn’t know what to say. ‘Please just love me’? ‘Can’t you change your mind’? ‘What if I were different’? ‘I can change’? Would anything make a difference? You couldn’t be different. Not really. It hit you at that moment: you would always be you. All of these things that you had been doing to try to change, to be better, to grow, to stop being such a mess all of the time. They wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t change who you were. What you were. You’d always just be... this. 
“Yeah, I understand,” you whispered, your voice trapped in your strangled throat. “I have to go.” 
You stood and whirled around, heading immediately for the door, shoving your feet in your shoes any which way, as long as they stayed on long enough for you to escape. 
“No, wait, hold on!” Sungbin called, following after you. “Don’t just go, please. I want to talk- I don’-” 
But you were opening the door and running down the corridor and he was calling, but not running, after you.  
You wanted to break down, just fall to the floor in a heap and stay there until the ground ate you up but you had to get out of his building. The lift was stifling, a too small metal box with mirrored walls that showed you your red eyes and running nose and face contorted with the effort of trying not to cry, with the fact that you were crying anyway.  
You had never felt so stupid. Humiliated. You wanted to scrape your skin from your body with the shame of it. Of course he didn’t want a relationship with you. A man who already loved you and loved you for years didn’t want a relationship with you anymore; why would Sungbin, with the world at his feet, settle for you?  
You were crying on the subway again. You had sworn you wouldn’t do that. Not after the break-up. Not once you’d finally stopped crying over San. You weren’t going to be that person, that’s what you’d said. No one took any notice; no one said anything; everyone averted their eyes, but you could still feel their attention, were still so aware of the way they were not noticing you. You were a weirdo, a pathetic woman crying on the subway in the middle of a Friday afternoon.  
When you got off the train, you considered throwing yourself on the tracks. You would never have done it. Too many people around. A traumatised driver. Delayed and cancelled trains. Compounding your worthlessness by ruining other people’s days? You hadn’t sunk that low, not yet.  
You traipsed home, your feet feeling lead-heavy, your legs feeling weak and, as soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, you dropped to the floor. You gasped in huge, choking sobs; you couldn’t see for your tears and could barely breathe. Your chest felt as though it were caving in on you, squeezing the life out of you. You dragged your nails across your skin to try to feel something else, something different, some other kind of pain and then a thought came to you, sharper than it had been for months, clear before where it had been vague. A directive, not just a thought anymore. 
There was a reason you didn’t keep razors in the house but your nails certainly weren’t cutting it. Then you remembered the knives Yoongi had bought you, how he had impressed upon you that they were sharp, that they were good quality and barely used so they should still, now, be sharp. You dragged your body to the kitchen counter and ripped open a drawer. You picked one at random – it didn’t matter which – and sat back down. You shuffled to pull off your cycle shorts and there they were, your mosaic thighs, criss-crosses of light, thin lines and thicker scar tissue. You had always taken a weird pride in the neatness of it. You had always cut carefully and deliberately, as though you were creating something other than scars, other than a mess, other than something you had to hide from everyone. You went over them again, re-cutting all the old lines, each sharp slice of pain a relief, grounding, pulling you back from somewhere.  
The relief made you feel hysterical, silly even, the strange, old euphoria of hurting yourself, of being in control of that hurt rushing through you and making you dizzy. It was like coming home. Your breathing came more smoothly and your heart slowed and your tears began to dry and you couldn’t stop, not yet. You had to see how far you could go. A little more. You needed just a little more. You had plenty of real estate; you could make more. You could expand the design, your bloody, little, monochromatic Mondrian.  
You felt empty when you stopped. Drained. Exhausted. Sick to your stomach. You let yourself fall sideways, lying on your dirty kitchen floor. You had nothing left in you. You lay there, unmoving, letting your brain tell you whatever it wanted. You didn’t care anymore. About anything. You had nothing. You had nothing to give and no one to give it to anyway. If you blipped out of existence, well, that would be the best-case scenario. Like Buffy’s key in reverse. Blink, and you had never existed at all. That would have been nice.  
It would still be nice. If you could just disappear off the face of the earth. You couldn’t bear to look towards the future – a future you didn’t want, that you knew wouldn’t be better than this. The thought of it made your soul shrivel, made you dig your nails into your reddened thighs, made you cringe and wince. When would it be over? Why couldn’t it be now?  
You distantly heard your intercom ring but it felt as if it were coming from another world. You were gone. You were out of this world. No one missed you. Your apartment was a glitch, a tiny black hole where no one could go and no one wanted to go. It rang for what could have been a short time or a long time—you'd lost all sense of it. Then you heard knocking at your door.  
Then more knocking. 
Then something akin to thumping. 
“Hey,” Yoongi’s voice rang cleanly through the wood and metal. “Are you in?” 
Your phone started buzzing noisily on your side of the door, rattling against the floor bar in the entryway. Then there was silence for a while. You assumed he had gone away. 
Your door beeped and swung open and there were footsteps, the quiet flomp of shoes hitting the floor, the rustle of a carrier bag. You remembered you had given him your codes in the interest of fairness -- you did have his, after all. You felt so detached from everything that you didn’t know how you felt about that. Yoongi quietly called out for you. You didn’t respond. Didn’t even feel like you could.  
Your apartment was small enough that he could survey the entire space in a few small steps, so he would barely have to enter before he would see you. You knew the moment he did; you felt the way the air was sucked out of the room for a second. You felt him freeze, could hear the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall. Then he came into your line of sight, kneeling in front of you, saying your name. 
“Fuck, don’t be dead,” he whispered.  
He held his hand underneath your nose and felt you breathing. You felt the weight of the sigh that left him.  
“Shit, fuck.” 
He bent over, turning his head to try to catch your eyes; you could see him but you weren’t looking at him. You weren’t looking at anything. He was a blurry approximation of a man in front of you. He called your name for a third time.  
“You, uh, are you alright? ... fuck, fucking stupid. No, obviously not. Fuck. Ok. Uh. I-. Can I... What can I do?” 
You couldn’t give him an answer. It was as if all speech and movement had been taken from you. You really had nothing left. You couldn’t give him anything. You felt like a husk and that was all you wanted to be. 
“Shit, what should I do? I.. I do-. Well. Ok. Can you sit up?”  
You couldn’t even shake your head. You were aware of him continuing to mutter to himself. He stood up and disappeared for a minute or two; you heard the open and shut of cupboards, the rifling through of your jars and bottles and boxes. He returned with a light load. 
“I have to-” he started. “I’m going to. You.. I have to- I'm going to touch you, ok? I have to lift you up?” 
He hesitated as he came closer but was firm when he gripped your arms and lifted your body off the floor, pulled you sitting upright. You tipped your head back against the cupboard and a deep sigh pushed air from your lungs.  
“I still have to- this might hurt. You don’t have much stuff. I, uh, yeah, ok. I have to clean this.” 
You closed your eyes when he pressed a soaked cotton pad to your thigh. The burning sting of antiseptic made you feel a little bit alive but it was so short-lived.  
He was muttering again. 
“Fucking hell. I can’t. You don’t have anything useful. How am I-. What... This is... Fuck, this is going to need stitches. Is it?” 
You’d almost never heard him talk so much, not like this, not to himself, not with all these half-finished, curtailed sentences, this stopping and starting. Yoongi was straight-forward, even when he was feeling chatty. This Yoongi was going around in circles.  
When your eyes finally focused on him, he looked pale, paler than usual. A little grey possibly. His mouth was pulled in a taut, grim line when he wasn’t mumbling himself through the task.  
“Still fucking bleeding? Shit, did I make it bleed again? I can’t- I...” 
He sat back a little and looked at you; his eyes were sharp and focused and you couldn’t look at them. Yoongi took your chin in his hand, less gently than you might have expected, and he held you there until you looked at him.  
“How can you not have a fucking first-aid kit? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” The anger in his voice registered only dimly. “There’s a pharmacy on the corner and I’m going to go there.” He paused and his eyes were steely and his jaw tight as he worked his brain around how to say what he needed to. “I’m going to go and I’m going to come back and if I get back here and you’re dead, I am going to kill you, ok? I know I promised to kill you but I was fucking joking and you’re not allowed to be dead. Is that clear?” 
His face softened as he waited for an answer. You managed to nod your head. He held you a few more seconds before he stood and walked out.  
It could have been only seconds or it could have been hours until he returned—you neither knew nor cared—but he did return and he dropped a plastic bag on the floor beside you. He tipped it upside down and dumped its contents. He wasn’t looking at you now, not at your face, just at your legs, as he cleaned and tended and muttered to himself some more. He unwrapped bandages and folded over gauze and you let him lift your legs and place them back down. You let him do whatever he needed to, wanted to. It didn’t matter.  
When he was finished, he sat back and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and you saw his eyes alight on something to your left. You couldn’t read the expression that came over his face. Something like horror, something like disgust, something like despair. He leaned forward onto his hands and grabbed the offending object; he threw it into the sink with a metallic clatter.  
He sat opposite you for some time. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. You felt hollow. You could hear it, the wind howling through your empty spaces. You felt like you were all empty space. Just an echo of nothingness trapped in skin. Every part of you hurt, as if the pain were radiating out from your heart, filling the void inside you with a sharp, persistent ache. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it, to have to hear yourself, hear your existence continuing in the world. It hurt. As long as you were silent, you could fade away, you told yourself. Just disappear. Yoongi would go and you would be alone and you could just disappear. 
“Do you want to eat?” he asked. “You should eat.”  
The thought evidently set him on a path because he stood and opened your fridge, opened your cupboards, looking for food. He stepped over you and then stopped, foot in mid-air. He turned back to you. 
“If I’m going to cook, you’re in the way. Can you move?” 
You blinked. You sighed. You looked down. Then you felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you to your feet. It was an awkward drag and shuffle to the sofa, your feet tripping over themselves, Yoongi lifting but not really carrying you.  
“Fuck, sorry,” he said on a heavy exhale as you dropped like a stone onto the sofa. “I’m going to cook now.” 
He held a bowl out in front of you and, when you didn’t take it, he picked up your hands and placed them against the ceramic, lowering it all into your lap. Then he sat next to you. 
“Eat.” 
You looked at the food, steaming hot; it smelt nice. You wondered what on earth it was and how he could have found the right ingredients in your house. You were still not exactly domesticated, despite your efforts. Yoongi kicked your foot. 
“I mean it. Eat.” 
You sighed and continued staring into the bowl. Eating would mean conceding to living, to staying alive. You felt defeated but you also wanted to avoid this defeat. Everything about you felt wrong. Hideous. Like things were crawling beneath your skin. You didn’t want to continue that existence. You didn’t want to feed it. 
Yoongi took the bowl from your hands and placed it on your coffee table. 
“Fine,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?” 
Absolutely not. You shook your head.  
“What do you want to do? I don’t know what to do. What can I do?” 
You, again, fell sideways, lying on the sofa with your legs still dangling down. It wasn’t entirely comfortable but that hardly mattered. You couldn’t answer; you didn’t know.  
Then Yoongi did something that you wouldn’t in a thousand years have expected him to. Just as you had, in his apartment, weeks ago, he crawled behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You stiffened, convinced for a second you might split and shatter. He was warm and soft and you could smell his hair and his breath tickled your neck and it hurt so much. It all hurt so much.  
You breathed in deep and when you exhaled, you choked, crying again. You didn’t know you had more in you. You had thought you were dry, but just as there was no end to your sadness, there apparently was no end to your tears.  
You lay there, letting him hold you as you cried, letting the sun lower in the sky, letting the stars come out.  
“I’m fucking sick of it,” you gasped. “Sick of it, sick of it, sick of it.” 
“Sick of what?” 
“Everything. I hate it. I hate everything. I hate it. I hate being alive. I hate being me. I can’t stand it. I don’t know how people do it. I just want it to stop. I just want it to stop.” 
“Life?” 
“Yeah.” 
“I get it. I don’t want you to stop being you, though. For what it’s worth.”  
You couldn’t hear that kind of thing. Not now. You couldn’t take it. 
“You just don’t know me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying and thick from new tears.  
“Tell me, then.” 
“I fucking suck.” 
“How?” 
“Literally everything I am. Fundamentally flawed. I’m broken and stupid and I can’t be normal and no one can ever love me because I’m this. I’m just this all the time and I can’t get better and I thought that I could but it’s just me and my fucking broken head and I ruin everything. I ruin everything for everyone and always will and no one can stand me. No one can and I don’t fucking blame them. I can’t stand me either. It makes me sick to be such a useless heap of junk. I’m a worthless waste of space because what is the point of me? What do I do? I need people, I cling to people, I make myself their problem until they can’t take it anymore. I’m depressed and stupid and I will never achieve anything and never do anything and I might as well just die right now because who cares? Literally who cares. I tried and I fucking tried but I’m still me and I can’t run from it or change it and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be here. I don’t know what to do anymore. There is nothing for me. The future is black and it’s bleak because I’ll be there. I’m always there. I can’t get away from myself. I can’t bear it. I have to live like this? For years? More and more years? Twenty? Or thirty? Forty years of this? It makes me sick to think about. I can’t think about it. I can’t think about having to be alive like this for another day let alone any longer. I hate it. I hate being me and I hate being alive and I just wish I wasn’t. I wish I could just disappear. I’m a broken, useless, fucked in the head piece of shit and no one will ever love me because they can’t. I’m unlovable. I’m this and it makes me unlovable but I can’t change it so I will always be unlovable and I can’t do it. I can’t live like that. I can’t do it anymore.” 
You took a deep, shuddering breath and Yoongi said nothing. He was quiet for long enough for your shame to creep back in, curling its fingers around the door frame and pulling itself in, unbidden and unwanted. You were embarrassed now, again. You felt stupid. Again. You felt pointless and petty and pathetic and you were about to shrug Yoongi off, to tell him to leave, to crawl into your bed and hide under the sheets when his arms tightened around you. You heard as well as felt him take a deep breath. 
“Yeah, I understand.”  
There was a pregnant pause and Yoongi cleared his throat. 
“But I don’t think any of those things about you. For what it’s worth.” 
Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six
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startaee · 10 months
Text
a second chance .
reo x reader; reader's got her space and might get back with reo. Pt.1, not an equal.
tws, reo cries.
reblog if you like it!
the first part was pretty decent, but the number of reblogs just really demotivated me idk, here's the second & final part :)
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it wasn’t that you didn’t mean anything to him earlier, but after your breakup, reo slowly realized that you were irreplaceable. everything about you was perfect and no woman his mother set him up with could ever reach your level.
a week after your breakup, you started to receive bouquets of your favorite flowers with cute little handwritten notes. he sent them to your home but surprisingly, never to your office. 
you never texted him about it, you just replaced the old flowers with the new ones.
“y’know, he really misses you, y/n.” your only mutual friend, isagi yoichi, the one who introduced the two of you, sighed deeply, sitting at your table and frowning.
“doesn’t matter, yoichi. he needs to respect my boundaries.” you whispered under your breath, cleaning the vase as you put the pink tulips inside. the pink tulips were your favorite. they were the first flowers reo had purchased for you. “but, y/n he does! it’s been a month already! you’ve got your promotion and he’s done nothing but wait and give you your space.” isagi argued, he didn’t see the point of this break-up. all he saw was two of his friends feeling lonely and sad.
“yeah, but-”
“no buts, y/n! call him! or text him! he’s learned his mistake and he’s gonna apologize if you just for god’s sake give him a chance!” isagi got up from the chair, shaking his head as he walked out of your apartment.
“jeez, what’s up his ass.” you said to yourself, placing the vase on the counter and staring at it. “maybe i should call him…” you didn’t really believe that he’d changed in a month, but you were curious. unlocking your phone, you entered his name and pressed the call button.
ring. ring. ri-
“y/n?!?!?” a smile unconsciously formed on your face. 
“uh…did you dial the wrong number??? y/n i’m sorry by the way-” reo started off rambling, worried that you might have misdialed and that he only had a few seconds to tell you everything. “and i promise i’ll never do it again, but please-”
inhaling deeply, you said, “thank you for the flowers. and the notes…i appreciate it.” and his words came to a halt. the other side was completely silent, so you looked at your phone to see if the call was disconnected or something. as you put it back on your ear, you could hear soft sniffles. huh? was he crying?
“reo…?” you called out worriedly. “‘m sorry, it’s…jus’ been so long..” he referred to hearing your voice, making you smile again. you knew what he meant and considered forgiving him. he sounded really sorry. and he hadn’t interfered with your work at all, so maybe giving him a second chance wouldn’t be such a bad idea."
taglist: @itsliasworld @rroxii @reiners-milkbiddies @rose-ly @pompomnanamin @chuudreamer @jujutsukaisenfan .
(sorry,, if you didn't wanna be tagged pls lmk im very confused rn !!)
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hellfire-wren · 2 years
Note
Hiiii lovely☺️ I was wondering if yoy could write an Eddie Munson x reader where reader is dustins big sister and she's also dating eddie and reader and eddie find out they're gonna have a baby. Soo they tell dustin and he get so excited about it and it's all so cute and happy🤣 I'm sorry if that was a lot 💜 I understand if you can't get to it 💜
please i love this request sm! i hope you enjoy <3
part two
part three 
i am adding more to this dad!eddie series, if you’d like to be in the tag list, let me know !
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“eddie, (y/n), you guys want a beer?” steve called from across the room. it was friday night and steve and robin finally had a night off, so the whole gang was at yours and dustins house. you all piled into the living room, some having to sit on the floor, getting ready to watch whatever movie steve had gotten the night before. this one happened to be the goonies. it seemed to fit a little too well.
“just me,” eddie called out, secretly smirking at you. no one else knew as of this moment, but you and eddie had just found out you were pregnant a few days ago. he was ecstatic, jumping around like a child when you’d told him. he originally thought you were joking, but when realization set in, he couldn’t be happier. he reached his hand out to steve, smirking again “thanks, big boy”
“hey, dont start, munson” steve pointed a finger at eddie, handing a beer to him with the other hand. “how could you turn down a drink, though, (y/n)?” he quizzed you. your eyes flicked to eddie, not sure what to say.
thankfully, robin and dustin burst through the door, arms full of snacks. for a moment, the attention is off you, as everyone finds their snack of choice. dustin calls eddie over to help set the tv up, and you laugh at the boys arguing over which cable goes where. moments after you open your candy, robin plops down next to you and smiles, a large bowl of fresh popcorn in hand.
“so, what’d i miss? ooh, (y/n), you look great. you know, you’re so naturally pretty, but it’s like you’re just glowing,” robin rambles on more, but you’ve learned to just listen and smile until she’s done talking. she’s on about how you must being using a new face wash because of your new found glow. oh, robin, if only you knew.
“we were actually wondering who this is and what they did with our (y/n) because apparently she doesn’t want a drink tonight.” steve interrupted. robin instantly dropped her face wash rant, giving you a ‘who are you?’ look.
“not even a beer?” robin scanned your face, trying to tell if you were joking or not. when you simply shook your head, robin’s eyes widened. “are you dying? are you sick? are you pregn- OH MY GOD.” robin’s hands clasped over her mouth. she quickly looked around to see if anyone besides you and steve had heard her. luckily not, she uncovered her mouth and whispered “does dustin know?”
you shook your head and giggled at her excitement, written plain as day on her face. the two of you had grown close and she’d been calling it that you would get pregnant before nancy. i guess she’s won that bet. before you could say anything more, another voice chimed in.
“does who know what?” mike called from his spot in the floor with lucas. dammit, wheeler. all heads were turned to you, robin, and steven on the couch. well, here goes nothing. you pushed yourself up from the couch and walked to where eddie was. taking a deep breath, you looked at dustin.
“so, i want everyone to know we totally had a better way to do this, but since little wheeler had to say something,” eddie jokingly glared at mike, pulling an arm around you. “this seems like a good time.” you glanced at robin, who was looking right back at you, thumbs up, with her best ‘you got this’ face on.
“i’m pregnant.” you said, just above a whisper. your eyes were shut, almost as if you were scared of the reactions. eddie rubbed your side to comfort you and your eyes finally opened. you looked to your younger brother, half expecting him to want to tackle eddie for getting his sister pregnant. dustin was mouth to the floor, dumbfounded.
everyone looked at dustin before they reacted, waiting to see what he would do. the shock wore away into a smile within seconds of processing what you’d said. his arms raised up over his head and he turned to everyone else in the room, and in the most dustin way ever, he shouts
“JUST CALL ME UNCLE DUSTY!”
you died laughing as soon as the words came out of his mouth and he turned back towards you. you stepped away from eddie and opened your arms to dustin. he immediately did the same and you made sure to squeeze him extra tight. he was going to be so good. you already couldn’t wait to see him as a dad.
“you’re going to be the best uncle, dustin. i just know it.” your voice cracked and you started to tear up. he pulled away from you after a second and held you to where he could look you dead in the eyes.
“you’re going to be the best mom, (y/n).” he said. he was definitely crying, but his back was now to everyone, so he wouldn’t admit it to the guys. his eyes shifted past you, “and you! absolutely disgusting to think that you did… that, but you’re going to be the best dad.”
you turned around to look at eddie, who was already stepping towards you.
“can’t wait to teach the little one how to kick ass in D&D!” he pulled you and dustin into his arms. “OH, and we’re gonna have THE most metal kid ever. he’s gonna be such a badass!” his eyes were practically twinkling when he imagined it.
“HE?” robin shouted. “YOU KNEW THE SEX AND DIDNT TELL ME?” dustin pulled away to look at you.
“how does sh-“ “i guessed it before any of you losers!” robin interrupted dustin’s question.
“we don’t know yet, eddie’s just very hopeful.” you laughed and pulled away, going to take your seat back by robin.
“oh, i’m definitely team boy.” robin muttered to you, shoving popcorn into her mouth. “what about you? what are you hoping for?”
“i’m not sure. i mean, a mini eddie?” you laughed “i can’t decide if that’s good or bad, yet.” eddie took a seat on the opposite side of you and dustin beside steve on the other sofa.
“okay, so now that we know eddie and (y/n) are gettin’ it, can we please watch the movie?” mike called from the floor. you all laughed as dustin rushed up to the tv to press play. you were glad you had this room full of people. you knew that boy or girl, your child would grow up to be so loved and have a big family. this family.
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Extra Whipped Cream
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Pairing: Porn Star!Dieter Bravo x Reader 
Chapters: 1/
Content warning: curses, slight sexual themes but no actual smut (yet). 
Summary: Dieter finally sees you. You finally meet your shame face to face. 
Word count: 2k Authors note: Holy SHIT I did not expect the first part of this fic to be so well received!!!! Thank you all so much!!!! It truly means the world to me and all the sweet messages and comments you all left is what gave me the energy to continue writing for our sweet sweet slutty man. And yes. there will be more. 
Special thank you @madhyanas​ for constantly doing edits and seeing my random (this sentence. yes no?) and all of my lovely mutuals who listened to me ramble about this silly thing. 
Tag list will be done in the reblog
Dieter couldn’t stop thinking about you. 
It was silly. Embarrassing, really. 
I mean, what could he call it? This giddy feeling he got in his chest when he strode into the cafe, damn near everyday for the past two weeks in hopes of seeing you. 
What was it? A crush? He hardly knew you. 
All he knew was your name from the tag on your apron. That you made his coffee perfect (because when the other barista did it, it still wasn’t sweet enough) and that you watched his porn. 
And you were pretty. 
Fuck, you were so pretty. 
So much so that he found himself floundering like an idiot when he first met you. Stammering and fumbling with his money all because you were looking at him and his palms started sweating and he felt like a fucking highschooler again. 
But you knew him. Or, his work, at least. To the point where you blurted out his name with such a chipper, albeit, rehearsed smile his heart stopped. 
Now he’ll be honest, it stuck with him. Hell, for the rest of the day you were all he could think about. The pretty little barista who watched his dirty videos in secret. His thoughts ran rampant. 
Did you watch them at night, hands sliding under the covers and volume low so nobody heard you? Did you imagine yourself there? Being touched by him? Being fucked by him?
What was your favorite?
Would you want him like that? Hard and fast? Or soft? Would you wind your hands in his hair and whimper his name? Would you leave hickies on his neck? Would you let him kiss you? Would you smile and giggle against his mouth as he holds you against him? “Mrow.”
Dieter pulled himself away from preening in the mirror to look back at the cat who was staring at him from atop his pillow. 
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looked at his reflection one final time, fussing with his hair before turning and fixing his shirt just in case he saw you. “Your dad is going crazy.”
The other baristas were beginning to know him by name, a sad little irony given that he came damn near everyday in hopes to see you. But he never asked them about you, or hung around in case you came in. God no, that was invasive. He would just take his coffee with a smile and then go on with the rest of the day with you tucked in the back of his brain. 
Was it the healthiest option? No. He had a fudge brownie every day for the past week because of it and he was starting to worry about his impending dental bill from it. 
“Have a good day, Dexter!” 
How funny it was, the little sting of disappointment that weighed in his chest upon hearing his real name. How he wished it was his stage name, the name built from sex and money over the years, passing from your lips. He wanted to hear it again. And again. And again-
Dieter blinks. 
“Sir… are you alright?” The barista was looking at him strangely. Somebody coughed behind him. 
Fuck. He was still in line. Staring off into space like a fucking moron. 
Nice going, dickhead. 
“Yeah I’m… I’m fine. Sorry. I’ll just- go.” 
He quickly turned, mumbling a rushed apology to the person waiting behind him. 
Dieter opened the cafe door with one hand and brought the frappuccino up to his mouth in the other. 
He recoiled and pulled the drink away, glowering at it with poorly hidden disgust. 
Bitter. Why was it always bitter when they made it? Why was it only sweet from you? 
Another day, another missed encounter. Dieter took another sip and sighed.  Maybe he should look into getting a Tinder account.
Just as he reached his car, ring-clad fingers grazing the handle, an angry voice sailed through the air. 
“Come on, come on, you stupid fucking car, just unlock! God fucking shit-” 
As sure as the day was long, there you were. Fighting with the door of your car and spewing profanities. 
Parked right next to him. 
He cleared his throat and you whirled around, eyes wide as if you had been caught stealing. 
A moment passed. You both stared at each other. 
You waved. “Uh. Hi.” Shockingly enough, he seemed to be just as tongue tied as you were. 
“Hey.”
It was almost jarring to him. To see you without our apron, despite how often he had painted the picture in his mind. Because now it was real. You were real. Your mussed hair, mouth open in shock and chest heaving, eyes wide and frantic, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. 
He takes a step back and realizes that he was a man staring down a woman in a parking lot. Alone. 
Dieter frowned. Fuck. He had been so caught up in his own feelings, he didn’t think about how uncomfortable this must have been for you. 
“Listen, if I'm overstepping—”
“I’m so sorry for embarrassing you the other day!”
“What?”
———-
You just missed  Dexter- Dieter- fuck, him- by the skin of your teeth. Your shift had just ended and you were tugging on your jacket in the parking lot when you turned and saw him inside. 
You were in the clear. Safe. Now all you had to do was get your ass in the car and go home and you would avoid yet another instance of embarrassing yourself in front of the porn star. 
But instead, you stood there. You stood and watched him. Yes, watched, like some voyeuristic pervert as he steps into the already winding line of customers inside. 
You could leave. You should leave. But there’s a moment where he looks around, peering over a patron's shoulder to see the front counter and a flash of disappointment when he sees who's working. 
Was he looking for you? Had he gone in to see you?
He was dressed nice. The hoodie with fraying strings was replaced by a button up with an expressive pattern. When he reached up to scratch at his face, his rings glinted against the sun. 
You knew you needed to stop staring. As he ordered his coffee, bobbed his head to the music playing. This was weird. Inappropriate. If you didn't move now then he may see you. 
But what’s a few more seconds?
A few more seconds turn into two minutes. Two minutes turn into three and oh god the door is opening and he’s leaving. 
You turn on your heel, sneakers slapping against the concrete and skidding to a stop in front of your car. Your hand grabs the handle and pulls but the door stays shut. 
“Oh no no no no don’t do this not now—” A frantic stream of curses and pleas fly from your lips as you fight with the car door and tragically remember you had been putting your inspection off for about two months now when—
Dieter clears his throat from behind you, nearly scaring you right out of your skin. Slowly, you turn to face him. 
You thought he looked good from far away. Now he was fucking hypnotic. The silk shirt was open, buttoned so low that a wide expanse of his chest was bare for you to see. Except bare wasn’t an apt description, given the curled chest hair that covered the exposed skin. A gold chain hung from his neck and your face grew hot when you realized you’ve seen him wearing it before. Swinging against his chest as his grips somebody’s hips with harsh growls of “fucking take it” fill your mind until it hits you that you’re staring at him without saying a single word. 
You raise a hand. 
“Uh. Hi.” 
Dieter grins and raises his hand back. “Hey.” 
You swallow. 
Christ on a cross, don’t just stand there. say something. 
say something. You both speak. 
“Listen if I’m overstepping—” “I'm sorry for embarrassing you!” 
Dieter stops, then looks at you as if you had grown a second head. “What?” “When you came in and I said your… your porn name.” Your voice became a hushed whisper on the word and he bit back a smile. “I mean I completely outed you to an entire building of people! You must have been humiliated and it's my fault.” He sets a hand on his hip. “So you think my job is something to be embarrassed of?” “No! Of course not!” you raise an octave in panic. “I mean it's good work, great work even!” “Is it now?” 
You realize your admittance and draw your shoulders in, only to perk back up at the sound of his laughter. 
“I’m just fucking with you.” He confesses. “It's no worry, really.” “Ah, right. I’m sure you're used to getting looks like that all the time.” He bites his tongue and you see a flash of silver in his mouth. A rush of heat settles low in your stomach and you shift under his gaze. 
 “Not the way you looked at me.” He was trying to kill you. 
Dieter sighs, and pulls at his hair. “Honestly? I should be thanking you.” 
“Thanking me?” You snort. “For what? Letting my coworkers know my porn preferences?” 
He laughs. Smooth and deep and real in a way you never thought of him before. 
“No actually.” He looks up and for a moment you see a flicker of nerves in his brown eyes. “For reminding this old man that he’s still got it.” 
You speak before realizing it. He has that effect, oddly enough. A combination of jittering nerves that sets you on fire while also simmering into a feeling of… safety? No— comfort. 
“Old is not the word that comes to mind for you.”
If this were fake, Dieter would have moved to you. A scene in a raunchy film with a script that was still laying in his room, filmed under soft lights with a crew standing just a few feet away. He would saunter over until his nose grazed your neck and you shuddered against him. He’d coo in your ear and settle his hands on your hips. “Oh yeah?” His hips would grind against yours and you would mewl. “Why don’t you tell me what came to mind, pretty girl?” 
If this were fake, he would be bold. Sexual. Strong. All the things Dieter was. 
But this wasn’t porn. This was real life. 
Dieter wasn’t real. Dexter was. 
“I’ll, uh—” His finger taps frantically against his thigh. “I’ll get out of your hair.” 
He turns and you hear him mumble “fucking stupid” to himself before you call out to him. “You gonna be a regular now?” 
Dexter stops and looks at you over his shoulder. He tries not to smile, he really does. But something about you just makes him so damn giddy. 
“Would you be okay with that?” “I think I just might.” He nods. “You’ll be seeing more of me then.” You didn’t mean for it to come out, really. You just spoke without thinking, a common issue when you found yourself around him.
“I already have.” He doesn’t tease you for it. Thank God. He simply chuckles and turns with his drink raised in a salute of goodbye and a skip in his step. 
For the rest of the day, he’s all you think of. His smile and his voice and the way he tilts his head with that grin that teeters right on the edge of being condescending in a way that makes you feel warm all over. You also think of his laugh, the way he taps out a rhythm on his leg when he gets nervous and how he seemed so excited to see you. 
Dieter. 
Dexter. 
The names swirl in your head until they intertwine and you can’t pull them apart. You feel hot, legs twitching in traffic on the drive home. 
Dieter. 
Dexter. 
Fuck. 
When you get home, your clothes are shucked off and tossed into a corner of your room until all you're left in are panties and slip into bed. You don’t bother reaching for your phone. You don’t need it, not this time. There was no need to look his name up in an incognito browser, you simply think of him and your hand slowly slips down your stomach. 
His smile. 
His chest. 
His hands. 
His voice. 
Your room becomes a choir of muffled gasps of a name who’s owner you only just met. 
Somewhere, in a house far too big for one person.  The man whose name you cry out lets himself fall apart to your smile.
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PART TWO!!!!!
(Disclaimer, I wrote this at like midnight so if things are off, feel free to let me know!)
WARNINGS: Mentions of past rape and non con, violence, gun, die, implied character death,
=====================================
It took over an hour to get Whumpee calmed down, and to assure them that Henchmen was coming nowhere near their room.
Exhausted, Whumper retired to his study. Deciding to mull over today’s events, he poured himself a drink.
Henchmen had always been loyal, he and Whumper worked hand in hand. Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Whumper called Henchmen up to his study.
Something had been snapped. Whumpee was broken, but not by his hands. Whumper, he didn’t have a solution, he didn’t know how to fix Whumpee.
“You called me Boss?”
“Ah yes, Henchmen” Whumper stretched, settling back into his role of the Boss
“Tell me about pick up.”
+++++++++++++++++++
As Henchmen rambled on, Whumper studied him, trying to pick up on his body language. Trying to find anything that might tell him something.
“-I see why you keep him around.”
Drawn back to the conversation, Whumper gazed at Henchmen quizzically “What do you mean?”
Henchmen laughed “I’m talking about Whumpee! Sure he’s a little feisty, but damn is his body divine.”
There was a loud crack Whumper looked down to see his glass shattered in his hands.
Whumper stood up wiping the loose glass and blood off on his trousers. He walked up to the confused Henchmen, taking a deep breath
Inhale Build it up
“Boss?”
Exhale Let it out
Whumper punched him, right across the face.
Henchmen stumbled, Whumper grabbed a hold of his collar slamming him against the wall.
“How Dare you touch something that is mine!” Whumper snarled
Henchmen smirked, blood trickling from his nose “Haven’t you heard Boss? Sharing is caring.”
Henchmen wrapped his arms around Whumper’s waist startling him, pulling them together.
“I bet you love that virgin act of his, don’t you? All of that screaming and crying? Isn’t it delicious?”
Disgusted, Whumper shoved Henchmen away.
Henchmen chuckled pulling himself to his full height. “It’s so cute how protective of him you are, when we both know you’ve done far worse than me.”
“Shut up.”
“Come on Whumper, you can’t deny it-“
“SHUT UP!” Whumper snapped
“Now I may be the villain, but I’m not a Fucking Rapist! You- you took something from Whumpee! He’s broken now! I don’t- I can’t-! I might not be able to fix him!” Whumper shouted
“And all because you-!”
Henchmen shoved his finger into Whumper’s face. “Woah woah woah, hold up. You haven’t fucked Whumpee? God that’s pathetic!” He laughed throwing his arms up
“…But if you haven’t fucked him then that means…”
Whumper fuming with rage, quietly upholstered his gun, Henchmen was too caught up in his thoughts to even notice
Henchmen barked out a laugh, taking a step back to dramatically point at Whumper.
“I not only fucked him before you, but took his virginity too?! Talk about two birds with one stone!”
“That’s right” Whumper growled,
“Two birds with one stone”
He took the shot
Tag-list: @fishtale88 @doodlepoodle154 @100percentevil @sucker4whump @kalah-ko-kayah-mo @whumpdreamz @crotchgoblin69 @mumza-superiority
Part 3
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merci-bitch · 2 years
Text
Nobody Knows Where We Might End Up, Nobody Knows
Addison Montgomery x fem!reader
Warning(s): angst, blood, cheating, just pure sadness
A/N: Ok, here it is. And it was just as hell as the other episode. But I do hope you all like it, you all seemed to like the first part ! Thank you ! Xx
Tag - @woderfulkawaii
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“Still don’t think it’s fair, Addison.”
“Boho Y/N.”
“Very funny Addison. Very funny.”
You heard Addison laughing on the other side of the phone.
“Suck it up buttercup.”
You could almost hear Addison’s smirk on the other side of the phone.
“You ain’t never had a woman like me.” Addison practically purred.
“Don’t start Addison.”
“Start what?”
[Pager beeps]
“Thank god for Bailey.”
Addison chuckled on the other end of the line and made a kiss sound and wished you a good day.
-
[Derek]:
The human life is made up of choices. Yes or no.
[Gunshot]
In or out. Up or down. And then there are the choices that matter. To love or hate. To be a hero or a coward. To fight or to give in. To live or die.
[Gasp]
Derek took a deep breath as the sudden pain raddled through him. He looked down himself and saw his light blue blouse turning dark. Derek touched the dark stain and felt his fingers getting sticky with something. That something being his own blood. Derek looked up and saw April standing above him, holding her hands up in defence.
“My name is April Kepner. I’m 28 years old. I was born on April 23rd, in Ohio.” April started rambling as she was held at gunpoint.
“I’m from Columbus, Ohio. M-My mum’s a teacher and my dad is a farmer…” April stuttered. “Corn. Corn, he grows corn. Their names are Karen and Joe. I have three sisters.” April said as she held up three fingers. “Libby’s the oldest, I’m next and then there’s Kimmie and Alice.”
The shooter didn’t lower his gun, but his eyes flickered between April and Derek.
“I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t…I’ve barely lived. I’m not finished yet. No one’s loved me yet. Please, please. I’m someone’s child.” April choked on her own sobs as she spoke. “I’m a person. I’m a person.”
“Run.”
The shooter made eye contact with April as he gripped the gun tighter. April’s body started shaking and it took her everything she had to run.
[Derek]:
Live or die. That’s the important choice. And it’s not always in your hands.
-
“Why are they only getting civilians out? Where’s the staff?” Richard asked the police officer.
“Policy is to clear visitors room by room, floor by floor, and remove them before removing any nonessential hospital personnel.”
“Did they get the shooter? Do you know where the shooter is? Do you know who the shooter is?” Richard asked again.
“No sir.” The officer responded as he started walking away.
“Do you know anything?” Richard grabbed the officer’s arm. The officer gave him a weak glare before turning on the radio.
“Dr. Owen Hunt from Seattle Grace…”
“Commander, I’ve got sound.” Another officer said.
“We are coming out with a critical patient.”
“Dr. Torres. I’m up on peds, we’ve got a kid with a ruptured appendix.”
“Dr. Miranda Bailey. I’m on five.”
” He shot a doctor. In the ICU.”
“There’ are two dead security guards…” Miranda’s voice was trembling.
“This guy. Six-one, greying hair, moustache…”
“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N has been shot…”
“He shot a nurse up here, Karev…”
“Please come, we need help.”
“We’ve got a GSW to the chest, I need a way outta here if he’s gonna make it.” Mark explained through the call.
“He was looking for the chief, specifically the chief. He shot him. He shot Derek Shepherd, right in front of us. We need help.” Richard heard Cristina’s voice over the radio. He turned his eyes towards the hospital as the radio continued to sound. He heard his people cry for help, heard his people die. He would never be able to forgive himself. Never.
-
“How much further?” Mary asked as she continued to hold up the liquid in her hand.
“We’re almost there.” Bailey responded as she continued to drag you across the floor towards the elevator. “We’re gonna get her on the elevator, and then we’ll be right at the OR floor. We’re almost there.”
“We’re almost there, OK Y/N?”
“We’re almost there?” Your voice was barely a whisper.
“Just a few more minutes.”
Bailey pressed the button, but nothing happened.
“Dr. B?” Mary asked quietly.
You looked up and saw how Bailey continued to press the button. It didn’t matter how many times she pressed it, nothing seemed to happen. Bailey leant forward, pressing her ear against the doors of the elevator.
“There’s a hum elevators make when they are on. There’s a hum. There’s no hum.”
“What does that mean?” Mary asked.
“It means the elevators, they’re off!”
You heard Bailey run to the other side of the small hallway, towards the other elevator on the other side. Bailey continued to press the buttons, but nothing happened.
“The elevators aren’t working! The elevators aren’t working!”
You heard Bailey start to shout and how Mary tried her best to calm her down. Bailey clapped her hands as she yelled out,
“We need to get to the OR! Turn the elevators back on! Turn them back on!” Bailey shouted as she continued to press the buttons. “Oh, damn it!”
You squeezed your eyes tightly as Bailey started screaming. How her voice was raw with tears.
“Turn the elevators back on!”
Tears were streaming down her face.
“Please! The man is still here somewhere. He’ll hear us!” Mary tried as Bailey kept screaming out. It hurt. It was like a knife in the heart as Bailey screamed for help, she knew wouldn’t come. It was one who kept tearing around. One who couldn’t move. As if the gods above were looking down and laughing.
“Please, stop. Please, Dr. B!”
“OK. OK.”
“What are we gonna do?” Mary asked Bailey once she stopped screaming.
You made eye contact with Bailey. Both eyes were filled with tears. Bailey’s hands were covered in blood, your blood. The colour of your skin was draining. The sheet you were lying on had turned from a bright yellow colour to a deep dark red stained. You were lying in your own blood. “What are we gonna do?” Mary whispered when Bailey turned her back and took a few steps forward.
“Dr. B, what’s the plan?” Mary asked again. “You have a plan, right, Dr. B?”
Bailey was a wreck. She was crying silent tears. Her whole body was shaking at this point. She had to be cursed. She was going to lose another one of her interns. She was going to lose you. First George, then Izzy and now you. Why was this happening? Miranda took a deep breath and tried her best to fall on the ground again, to grip herself. She grabbed her shirt and wiped her face clean from the tears. She turned around again and took off the gloves she’d been wearing and slowly made her wat towards you.
“We can’t get to the OR, but she has to get to the OR.” Mary rambled. You made eye contact with Bailey again.
“Miranda. We should be on a first name basis.” Miranda sat down and pulled your head into her lap. You pulled off the oxygen mask with the help of Miranda, and asked,
“I’m dying, right? Am I dying now?” You said so softly, as you looked up at Miranda.
“Yes. Yes Y/N, you are dying. But I don’t want you to worry. I don’t want you to be afraid.” Miranda started tearing up again as you started crying. “Cause I…Am not going to leave you, OK? Mary. Mary. Mary and I, are gonna be with you, the whole time.” Miranda said as she’d grabbed Mary’s hand in hers and took a hold of yours.
“You are not alone. Do you hear me? You are not alone.”
You nodded your head and tried your best not to choke on your tears. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying your best to relax. To just be there. You opened your eyes again and looked up at Miranda, and asked weakly, “Addison?”
-
Addison walked out of OR with a smile on her face. Feeling relief wash over her as the surgery was successful. The new member of the practice, Anna, walked up to her with her phone.
“Dr. Montgomery, your phone was ringing for quite a few times. I think they left a voicemail.”
“You didn’t listen to it, did you?” Addison raised an eyebrow at Anna, a small grin on her lips.
“Of course not!” Anna flushed.
“I’m joking.” Addison waved her off and checked her phone, seeing 5 missed calls from you. You’d left a voicemail. She pressed play and lifted her phone up to her ear.
“I-I know you slept with Mark.” Addison’s face dropped.
“Lexie told me, when he was in LA with Sloan.”
Addison heard you choke on your sobs and felt her heart drop.
“W-Why couldn’t you answer? I-There’s a s-shooter in the hospital.” Addison lost the colour in her face.
Naomi walked to Addison, holding out a hand. She looked like she was going to faint.
“I-I’ve been shot.” Addison heard you laugh in shock.
“He shot me Addie. I couldn’t be quiet. I’m s-so sorry.” She heard you let out another pained sob.
“I made Bailey promise to tell me the truth. No matter what would happen. Will you still love me tomorrow? I-I lost the baby.”
Baby.
“I-I was planning to tell you when you came home. But I thought I-I’m not going to be there. I’m dying, Bailey told me I’m dying. Please tell me you’ll love me tomorrow.”
Addison couldn’t move.
“I-I’m freezing. But it doesn’t h-hurt anymore. That’s good, right?”
Then, Addison heard a faint sound of a gun being fired in the background and flinched.
Then, the line went dead.
-
It had been a week since the shooting, or more. She couldn’t remember. Addison had lost count of the days that passed. She couldn’t look at you without seeing you in that bed, with tubes down your throat and a scar from the wound in your lower abdomen. The words from Bailey still rang inside her head.
“She was dead, Addison. What the hell went through your mind?!”
“She was carrying your child!”
“Normally I would mind my own business if it wasn’t my intern that nearly died in my lap.”
There was a distance between the two of you, Addison knew that. She saw how you tried to remove that distance but how something held you back. She knew you hadn’t forgiven her yet, or if you even would. It pained her even more to see you struggle to forgive her when she knew damn well, she didn’t deserve it. In those small weeks Addison had gotten her job back at Seattle Grace, now called Seattle Grace Mercy West. She had yet to become somewhat friends again with Miranda. She knew it would take time, but this time? She was willing to be patient.
Addison stepped through the door and noticed how quiet it was. You still weren’t back yet; the wound was still healing. She knew you still suffered from the trauma but there would always be some small sounds when she arrived home. It was never just quiet.
Addison called out your name but got no response. Addison walked further into your home and saw the bathroom door slightly ajar. She stepped inside and saw you sitting in the water with your clothes on, mumbling to yourself as you shivered. Addison took quick steps over to the bathtub and went down on her knees, grabbing your arm. The water was ice cold, and your lips were turning blue.
“Hey, Y/N. you need to get out of the water.”
Addison said as she tried pulling you out, but you didn’t move. You were crying. Your sobs becoming louder as Addison continued to try to get you out.
“I-I don’t…I don’t want it.”
“Y/N- “
Addison continued to try to pull you out of the water when you turned to her, eyes red from crying and your voice hoarse.
“No, I didn’t want it! I don’t want you!” You nearly screamed at her.
Addison looked down into the water and saw your wound, you’d scratched at it. Addison stood up as you let out another heart-breaking sob to take off her shoes. She then stepped into the bath behind you. She grabbed your hands and pulled them up to your shoulders and made you lean back against her.
“Okay, listen to me. You’re not alone. OK? I’m right here with you.” Addison put her head on your shoulder as she spoke. She put her hand on your forehead, making you lean back against her as you tried to pull away. “Okay? You’re gonna breathe.” You took a deep breath with her, trying to fill your lungs with as much air as possible. Addison’s grip on your hands tightened with every deep breath you took. Breathing in and out with you.
It took you a while. Perhaps an hour or two? When Addison pulled you up and wrapped you in a towel, it was unclear what happened to you. You let her lead you. The next thing you knew, you were cuddled up close to her. Your hands having a tight grip on her shirt, being afraid she’d disappear if you let go. Addison wasn’t going anywhere. She was right where she wanted to be. With you.
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Text
Incorrect Quotes Tag Game - Ships Edition
So, I've actually done this before (I was tagged by @writinglittlebeasts).
Here's the link to it:
But I've been playing around with the incorrect quote generator website for fun, and I've come up with some more hilarious interactions that I really wanted to share! This time, we're focusing more on the ships - Bephanie (Ben and Stephanie) and Brelise (Bret + Elise).
Here's the link to the generator:
Hope you enjoy these!
Bephanie:
Ben: What are you in the mood for? Stephanie: World domination. Ben: That's a bit ambitious. Stephanie: You are my world. Ben: Aww… Stephanie: Ben: Stephanie: Ben: OH.
Stephanie, throwing her head into Ben's lap: Tell me I'm pretty! Ben, lovingly stroking her hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.
Ben: Did it hurt when you fell- Stephanie: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt- Ben: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs. Stephanie: … Ben: You just laid there for 15 minutes.
Stephanie: Ben, can I speak to you for a minute? In private. Ben: Ooh, someone's in trouble... It's me. I don't know why I did that.
Ben: Did you know you remind me of all 26 letters of the alphabet? Stephanie: What? Like J F K W S Q X- Ben: No, like, U R A Q T. Stephanie: Awwww!
Ben: This is a very powerful artefact. You’d be messing with some forces we don’t fully understand. Stephanie: That sounds like a dare to me. Ben: Oh my God.
Ben: Vegetable oil is made from vegetables, and coconut oil is made from coconuts, so BABY OIL- Stephanie: CAN'T WE JUST HAVE A NICE FAMILY DINNER FOR ONCE?!
Brelise:
Bret: Ugh, crushes are so dumb. Elise: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid. Bret: But you’re always acting stupid? Elise: … Elise: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.
Bret: Okay, but what if we went to dinner not as friends this time? Elise: AS ENEMIES?! Bret:
Cop: What are your names? Elise, whispering: Don't tell him, Bret. Cop, writing: Bret… Elise: Crap. Bret: Nice going, Elise. Cop: Bret: Uh oh.
Elise: Two wrongs don’t make a right. Bret: *sighs* That’s true… Bret: But two negatives make a positive!!!
Elise: My life is a mess. Bret: Elise relax, go get a beer. Elise: I don’t want a beer. Bret: Who said it was for you?
Bret: I am so cool. I am an absolute Chad. I am the epitome of coolness and awesomeness— Elise: Hi. Bret: *melts down in a flustered heap of softness*
Bret: You look good in that hoodie. Elise: You know where else I'd look good? Bret, zero hesitation: My bed. Elise, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?
__________
There we go!
Love these lol (Some of these actually lowkey fit perfectly characterwise... I put them in an order that chronologically kind of works in terms of plot/character development).
I think I'll tag some other writers to do this for some ships in their own works as well...
Gently tagging all these folks: @fayeiswriting, @kirsten-is-writing, @e-s-willswriting, @jay-avian, @clairelsonao3, @sarahlizziewrites, @mjparkerwriting, @silverslipstream, @winterandwords, @exquisitecrow, @elizaellwrites, @writingalterras, @thecreakywriter, @sam-glade, @mysticstarlightduck, @hollyannewrites, @ryns-ramblings, @autumnalwalker, @toribookworm22, @mousedetective, @blind-the-winds, @falesiacats, @j-1173, @gummybugg, @jessicawestonauthor, @saviournelwinter and @thelavenderwriter.
I know, it's a lot of people. But I'm curious to see some other versions of this!
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todamarikoarchived · 6 months
Text
The Closure We Need
Fandom | Characters | Alternate/Canon Universe/Timeline: The Pacific | Eugene Sledge, Merriell “Snafu” Shelton, R. V Burgin, Jay De L’Eau, Bill Leyden, mentions of Andrew “Ack Ack” Haldane, mentions of Eddie “Hillbilly” Jones, mentions of Sidney “Sid” Phillips, and (Unimportant) OCs | War Period, Canon Divergent, & Alternative Universe
Warnings: Graphic descriptions/gore, mentions of death, one racial slur used, questioning/themes of religion, descriptions of vomiting/throwing up, spoilers for “The Pacific”, and as always, tell me if I missed any!
Author’s Start Note:
AO3
Main Masterlist & Shall We Lay Here? It’s Our Bittersweet Symphony Masterlist
This chapter is unexpectedly quite long just so y’all know lol!
Tagging: @liptonwashere, @carolinemathildes, @georgieluz, @ahsokatanoss, @blvestxr, and @theflyingfin! If you’d like to be tagged feel free to shoot me a message 💙
Word count is 4,396 lol quite a bit right? and that’s only part one for chapter 2 :)
Summary: Snafu’s been gone for a week and a half now and Eugene slowly but surely is starting to lose it, lose himself. A fight occurs and Eugene speaks his mind to Burgin, risking his own rank and status. While on the other side, Burgin isn’t faring any better but he soon finds out he isn’t the only one to deteriorate without Snafu. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So Bill gave me a journal he apparently got from Hillbilly and suggested I write. I hadn’t known what to write when he gave this journal to me. But as of now, all I can really think to write about is how I’ve lost my mind. I haven’t seen or heard from Snafu for days. Barely anyone talks to me besides Bill but he’s not the best form of comfort. 
Burgin’s grown tougher and doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit. Tony Peck has also been silent for the most part, Snafu not there to push him over the edge and Bill being busy with other things, too busy to argue with Tony much. 
We haven’t fought the Japs in a while, last skirmish five days ago. Tension runs high. Burgin told me to be careful if I write again, not allowed to write anything that would reveal important information. If anyone ever was able to read these pages, I hope they know I’m in Hell. I don’t believe I’ll escape. 
“EUGENE! I NEED YOUR HELP TO MOVE THE AMMUNITION!” Sledge’s pencil tip broke right as he finished his last sentence. The tip had snapped and crushed under Eugene’s fingertips. He scoffed, shoving the tiny notebook and pencil into one of his pockets. “SLEDGE?!” Burgin called again. 
Eugene was tired and barely got any sleep the night before, happening far too often nowadays. It rained the last two days, the skies continued to weep. Eugene felt as it if was a sign from God. Telling them that He was sorry for what He’s done. That’s what Eugene wished to believe. That God did care. 
Eugene climbed out of the foxhole he was in and took a moment to look around. The sky churned with clouds, ground was mostly mud, dust, rubble, corpses, and there was a distinct odor from the decaying bodies buried underneath where they stood. 
Eugene wished to be one of those bodies. Just resting below all the chaos. Finally in peace. Eugene thought about what Sid said to him last.“I slept with a woman in Melbourne. I’m not bragging. But that’s at one end, right? And then way down there as far as you can go… and that’s what it’s like. And that - that you could never imagine.” 
Now feeling as ignorant as he was, sending those letters to Sid, rambling on how we wished to join the marines so he wouldn’t have to live with that nagging thought of letting his family, friends, and country down.
But at this point, Eugene didn’t know what was worse. Living with that nagging feeling of letting his family and country down or living with the memories of decapitated heads and separated limbs of men who weren’t even men but young boys. 
“EUGENE! DAMMIT!” Burgin yelled again. Eugene held his breath as he turned around, facing Burgin head on, “Have you lost your hearing?” Burgin asked sharply. 
Not even weeks ago Eugene would’ve shaken with fear and begged not to face a court martial for even the smallest accident. But now, Eugene couldn’t care. 
“No, Burgie.” Eugene responded with such simplicity, even Burgie looked irritated. “I’ll help move ammo.” He said and walked around Burgie to the pile of ammo, two other men packing boxes of ammo up already. 
Eugene didn’t dare to look back and see if Burgin was watching him. Eugene got to the other two marines and started dumping ammo into boxes as well, a tedious process as the two marines observed with judging faces at how aggressive Eugene was throwing bullets into the boxes. 
“What’s up with you?” One of them sneered. Eugene had planned to ignore them and keep his eyes down focused on his work when the other marine grabbed Eugene’s wrist with hostility. 
“Which Jap shot you in the dick? Why’re you so pissed off? You’re making everyone around you miserable as well.” Times like these, if Snafu had been around, the two two marines would’ve keep their mouths shut. But Snafu wasn’t here and Eugene was forced to fend for himself. 
“My friend could die and I’ve heard no news about him.” Eugene responded curtly, hoping that answer would satisfy the other marines. The marine released Eugene’s hand while chuckling. 
“You think your friend’s special?” Eugene flinched at that assumption, “People die all the time around here,” The marine said. “The name’s Buckets and this dumbass is Nelson.” Buckets introduced, Eugene trying not to snort at the nickname. 
“My name’s Eugene.” Sledge introduced. 
“Ah, Eugene.” Nelson repeated, trying the name on his own tongue. Eugene rested his wrists on the edge of the metal box in front of him, taking a look at the two marines. 
Nelson had cropped brown hair, freckles everywhere, like a brush with brown paint was flicked at his face and neck. He was around Eugene’s height but slightly stockier and had heavier eye bags than Snafu did. 
Buckets had black hair and scars all over his arms face. Eugene didn’t dare ask why, he knew it was disrespectful and his mother would shake her head at him. Then again, his mother wouldn’t have condoned anything Eugene did over this period of his life. 
Buckets looked younger than Haldane but older than Burgin. Maybe that was just Eugene’s perception. “So… tell us more about your friend,” Nelson said, continuing conversation. 
Eugene felt the words clump in his throat. There wasn’t much to tell about Snafu. Eugene didn’t know what to say, “His name is Snafu and he was shot twice saving me.” Buckets leaned back and his pale eyes widened ever so slightly but Eugene noticed it.   
“Nelson here was released from the infirmary a few days ago and he told me about the “biggest” news and talk of the infirmary was about a guy who was shot and might die saving a comrade. Could that be your ‘Snafu’?”
Eugene blushed and turned away shyly. His Snafu? “I don’t know… Snafu has curly hair and dark eye bags. Short and lean. He… he has two bullet wounds and a bracelet too.” Eugene choked up while referring to the Snafu’s deadly injuries. Wounds that could’ve been avoided if he had just payed attention. It made Eugene’s chest sink when he thought about it. Snafu dying because of him.
Nelson nodded eagerly. “His name was recorded as Merriell. Must be your Snafu though,” Nelson said. Eugene had never known Snafu’s real name. He couldn’t even look at the Cajun’s dog tags. “Merriell… what a name..?” Eugene thought helplessly. 
“How did Snafu look?” Eugene turned to Nelson, eyes begging for any status update on Snafu. Nelson blinked twice and groaned as if he always has to be the one to give bad news. 
“Want the truth..?” That made Eugene’s heart seize up. Nelson waited for Eugene to nod his answer, “He wasn’t lookin’ too good but then again, that was less than a week ago or something. He could’ve possibly healed up. The time I saw him was when I was being released from care. I don’t know what day your friend was admitted into the medics’ care but yeah…”
Eugene frowned, obviously not pleased with that answer, “Did… did he look… like he could, survive?” Nelson responded with a dejected no. Eugene rested his head in his hands, tears welling up again. He refused to let himself cry in front of these hardened marines. 
“He looked… sick and unhealthy. He only muttered the words “sledgehamma’” twice before passing out and being taken away into a section for special care.” That caught the redhead’s attention easily. 
Eugene couldn’t help but smile softly as he remembered the first time Snafu nicknamed Eugene and addressed him as “sledgehammer”. Snafu’s accent made it sound more like “sledgehamma’” if anything. 
“I was in the section next to him.” Eugene snapped out of his thoughts and listened intently, “I saw like… three corpsmen enter his section, panicky voices scrambling around for equipment to help your friend-”
“Hush it, Nelson, you’re scaring Eugene when he should have nothing to fear-”
“At least I’m not sugarcoating shit! If his friend is dying I’m not going to say he’s not!” Nelson argued back. Eugene started to tune them out as he thought about the moments he shared with Snafu, breath becoming quick and shallow. 
The thought of never being able to make any memories with Ack Ack or Hillbilly ever again was horrible. Never being able to hear their voices filled with reassurance and determination, something Eugene couldn’t help but admire and wouldn’t stop admiring until he rolled over in his grave. Now if Eugene lost Snafu, lost that Cajun accent, stupid smirk, and vulgar attitude Eugene’s become familiar with, he would snap. 
-
“Eugene’s right… had to be done. Either him or all of us…” Snafu crossed his arms while blankly staring at the marine that was slowly taken away on a stretcher. Eugene felt disgust in himself and in his comrades. 
But Eugene also felt guilt for the marine that committed the deed. That marine would have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life and the other witnesses would carry that secret with them to the grave. 
“Eugene… you all right?” Snafu called out, shocking Eugene. Snafu seemed on edge and was checking in on his friend. Eugene nodded slowly, eyes still trained on the stretcher taking the body away. 
“It could’ve been me…” Eugene said so quietly, almost inaudibly. Snafu didn’t respond, hard eyes resting on the redhead. 
“It could’ve been any of us… Next question is, who’ll crack next?” Snafu asked, uncrossing his arms. Eugene could clearly see a few marines tense up at Snafu’s comment. 
He wasn’t wrong, who would be the one next to die by the hands of his comrades. Would you consider the action mercy or malice? Ending the pain and nightmares of that marine. But not out of thought for the marine, but to save the other marines. 
-
Eugene couldn’t stop laughing, chest hurting as Snafu finished prancing around, “You left a trail, boy, they’re going to come and find us now!”
“Jay… go get yourself a new pair of dungarees and clean up.” Ack Ack sighed but Eugene knew their captain was holding back a smile. This is exactly what the company needed. A good hearty laugh after Hillbilly’s tragic and unexpected death. Eugene could tell that Ack Ack knew his company needed this, he probably needed it as well. 
“God… I fuckin’ shit myself…” Jay muttered as he waddled away clutching the waistband of his pants, brown stains marking his buttocks and the inside of his pant legs. Eugene gasped for air, still wheezing at the event that had just unfolded. Burgie was clutching his chest, chuckles escaping his mouth.
Snafu ran his fingers through his curly hair, each strand catching his fingers and looping around them. Eugene couldn’t help but stare at the slightly shorter man, a nice warm feeling occupying his chest. 
-
“CORPSMAN! PLEASE!”
“Eugene! You gotta get up and away from Snafu! Let them do their job, you can’t help him!” Burgie was practically dragging Eugene away from the gruesome scene. The redhead’s hands were covered in sticky and iron smelling blood, Snafu’s blood. 
Eugene was going to throw up. The sudden bile rushing up his stomach and throat, the abrupt taste of vomit within his mouth caught Eugene off guard as he leaned over and hurled. Beyond the ringing in his ears, Eugene could hear Burgie curse softly, a caring and secure hand on his shoulder, rubbing back and forth gently. 
Eugene continued to heave until most of the contents in his stomach was soaked into the already filthy ground. Eugene’s throat burned as he continued to try and spit out any vomit left over in his mouth. “Eugene…” Burgie began but shortly cut himself off.  What was there to say?
-
“Eugene, stop it… you’ve washed it off, give it a rest. You’re wasting water.” Burgie said quietly, almost a whisper as a scowl was placed on Eugene’s face. The harder he scrubbed, the redder his hands got. Redder and redder, frustrating Sledge. He hated it. All he could see was red. 
“Eugene! You’re only irritating your skin, cut it out.” Burgie called out louder. Burgie was wrong. He was so damn wrong. The blood was there, all over his hands, underneath his finger nails, over his knuckles, skin stained with blood. Not even his blood. 
“It’s fucking red! Burgie, have you never seen blood?! It’s fucking red!” Eugene responded harshly, grabbing his water canister, the clear drinking water flowing out of the canister, wetting his hands, blood slowly disappearing. 
Eugene was completely tuning out Burgie as he watched hypnotized as the water slipped through his fingers. He set the water canister down and scrubbed even harder now. A few moments passed, Eugene’s breath becoming rapidly shallow. 
That was until Burgie grabbed Eugene’s hands, pulling them away from each other, snapping Eugene out of his trance. Looking down, he saw he his skin marked with scratches, a few puncturing his skin. “Now it’s blood, Eugene. Now it’s blood, your fucking blood.” Eugene saw blood tucked underneath his nails, fresh blood. Not Snafu’s blood but his own. 
“But… I was washing the blood off-”
“You already had. But apparently you’re not seeing so clearly and continued to scrub harder, until your hands became red and agitated. I tried to tell you but you didn’t listen, only digging your nails into your skin, causing the skin to break.” Burgie explained to Eugene as if he was a confused toddler. Eugene could figure it out himself, “I’m concerned for you, worried.”
“Don’t be… I just-just need some rest,” Eugene said, Burgie cautiously releasing his hold on the redhead’s hands. That was it. Some rest would do Eugene good. Everything would be fine. Snafu would come back. All clean and no blood. No red. Eugene was sure of it.  
“Eugene? Hey! Just keep breathing slowly, all right?” Sledge’s eyes snapped open as he was face to face with Buckets. Eugene was propped up against a few crates of weaponry. “Jesus… you had us scared for a moment, panting and breathing hard, couldn’t hear or listen to us.” Buckets explained. 
Nelson’s hand was holding Eugene’s shoulder, a caring grasp that wasn’t too rough or too soft. “W-what happened?” Eugene’s mouth felt dry and uncomfortable. Buckets reached for his canteen of water and unscrewed the top before extending it to Eugene. 
He hesitated for a moment before taking the canteen and drinking slowly, water feeling soothing against his tongue and throat, “Thanks…” Eugene gave the canister back and sighed. Eugene was probably going insane. 
“So… Your friend seems to be very important to you?” Eugene nodded silently, Buckets continuing, “I had a brother who fought in Europe, back when the war was starting. I wanted to join him but I was too sick during those years. Flu got to me but I miraculously survived.”
Eugene remembered his older brother. Most likely at home with his beloved parents, “Then my family got news that he was killed in action two years later, 1941 and that was the last straw for me.” Buckets sounded so very much like Ack Ack, calm and level-headed. Like a parent telling their child a story.
Eugene missed Ack Ack so much that it hurt. “So… I guess what I’m trying to say is that… if was about to lose my brother, I’d be as terrified as you. Not the same situation but… you know…” Buckets said. 
Eugene wished to redirect the conversation, feeling that sickness swell back up in his chest and head, “Did you join the marines then?” Eugene inquired, wanting to sound as if he was interested, which he was. Buckets chuckled and looked away. Nelson stopped grabbing Eugene’s shoulder and instead took a seat next to the redhead. 
“Well I tried to tell my mother I wanted to join the army but she detested that thought and even locked me in a room, thinking that’s what she needed to do to keep her son safe.” Nelson grinned as if he heard the story multiple times. Nelson and Buckets truly seemed like brothers. 
“So I escaped through the window, almost broke an arm jumping out but I did. Then I registered right then and there, hid around the city until I got news about registration. I didn’t make it into the army but I also knew if I went home, my mother would give me a lashing I’d never forget.”
Eugene sighed softly and closed his eyes. He was way too hot and the gear holding him down felt like heavy bricks, “So I registered for the marine corps. Got accepted, met Nelson during boot camp and was set for Guadalcanal.” The more Buckets spoke, Eugene realized that the two marines beside him were just trying to distract him from negative thoughts about Snafu. 
That made Eugene smile. Distracting was a move Ack Ack would do. If it meant he could help his men and lift their spirits up. Eugene focused back on Buckets’ deep voice, “Nelson here, gave me the name Buckets.” 
Nelson smiled widely, “Yeah…”
Eugene decided to entertain this topic of discussion. He had learned later on that nicknames were a big deal to marines. Because in wartime, especially the Pacific War, marines were nobody. They were only fighters with a rifle and a nickname. That was it. 
“How’d you get the nickname?” Eugene asked. Buckets blushed in embarrassment and turned away again, Nelson cracking up. 
“Before we were deployed here, ol’ Buckets came to my home for Christmas. It was cold as fuck and my father put us to work with moving buckets of paint from the garage to the basement. Buckets got sick somehow and threw up in a paint bucket and my brother got all pissed at Buckets and shoved his head into the same bucket of paint and his own throw up-”
“I don’t think Eugene needs to hear this story.” Buckets glared at Nelson. The other man just grinned mischievously. It was a stupid story but maybe that was what Eugene needed. The two men reminded Sledge all too much of Snafu and Bill Leyden. They had a friendship that was iffy but no war or fight could pit them against each other. 
Sort of like Snafu and Bill. They hated each other but weren’t afraid to gang together to taunt Tony Peck, “I-I… should get back to Burgie and update him.” Eugene suggested. Nelson nodded and slowly and carefully helped Eugene up, the redhead somewhat wobbly. 
“We’re riflemen, you?” Buckets asked. 
“Mortar man. K-Company.” Buckets nodded. 
“We’re K-Company as well,” Nelson smiled, much more friendly than before. Eugene nodded and turned in different directions in hopes to spot Burgie. After a moment of awkwardness, Eugene finally spotted Burgie near a group of marines who seemed to be discussing details of traveling routes. 
“See you around, Nelson and Buckets.” Eugene gave a curt nod before heading in the direction of Burgie. Eugene partially wanted an excuse to interact with familiar faces but as he left Nelson and Buckets, Eugene did appreciate his conversation with the two riflemen. 
-
It wasn’t hard to find Burgie. The shorter man was crouching down beside a few marines. “Burgie…” Eugene said softly, easily getting his attention. Burgie finished up his conversation with the few marines nearby before standing up to face Sledge. 
“Eugene?” 
He took a deep breath before speaking, “Snafu might die.” Burgie visibly paled at that. Eugene remained silent as he allowed Burgie to understand what he said. After a full minute, Burgie turned to face Eugene.
“How do you know?” 
“I met a rifleman who had came back from a medical facility. Apparently Snafu was transferred to a special care section or something.” Burgie whispered a quiet pray, Eugene holding back the urge to scoff. What would God do?
“What do you think will happen if Snafu does… die..?” Burgie didn’t get the chance to respond before both men heard shouting and anguishing cries towards their right. Burgie and Sledge turned to see Bill and Tony fighting, both men on the ground and completely scuffling with each other. 
Burgie rushed over, running behind Tony and grabbing the man’s shoulders and maneuvering him to the ground on the other side of Burgie, breaking up the fight with Tony and Bill. 
Leyden jumped up easily and Eugene took a stance by grabbing Bill’s wrist. Leyden’s head snapped in Eugene’s direction but the redhead only shook his head in disappointment. 
Leyden scoffed and rubbed his nose as Burgie moved around Tony and in between him and Leyden, “He fucking started it! He was-”
Bill eagerly cut Tony off, “You’re the person who gets pissed just because of fucking jokes! I wonder how you survived the bullies in your school!-”
“Of course I’m pissed! That’s my wife you were talking about!” Leyden’s response was a crude laugh. 
“Your wife!? You mean the woman you totally love, the woman you definitely didn’t cheat on for some random broad?” Tony stood up lightning fast, even with all his heavy gear and a bloody nose. 
Burgie took an authoritative step in front of the two, stopping Tony in his track, “I want to shoot you in the damn dick.” Tony raged, Bill already preparing to egg the other on. Tony seemed dead serious about shooting Bill which set an anxious feeling in Eugene’s chest. 
“Oh yeah? Then fucking do it, coward!” Eugene thought Bill had a death wish. Maybe he did. Who wouldn’t have a death wish after being sentenced to this Hell of an island. This Pacific War was their death sentence. Bill was just opening his arms to it, “fucking shoot me, I know you wouldn’t!”
Burgie shot a glare at Bill, a sign to shut up, which the short man did, panting and out of breath. Eugene thanked the lord that Bill seemed to calm down slightly but that could easily be undone as Sledge noticed Peck’s scrunched up face. 
“I know you’re angry! I know you’re fed up with each other and that’s okay! But you are comrades, you do not get to fight each other or even fucking shoot each other! If you fight, you’re going to end up getting yourselves, along with the rest of your squad, killed.” Tony visibly flinched at that. 
Peck clenched his fists, nails digging into the skin of his palms, “He!-”
“Being upset or in a fight with Bill doesn’t give you the right to risk the lives of your company. You don’t get that right.” Burgie said, more calmly this time. Eugene stood closer to Bill. 
“I could just shoot the man!” Peck suggested, Bill bearing his teeth like a wild animal. Burgie sighed, eyes almost as empty as Snafu’s had been. He was becoming more like Snafu and Ack Ack each day, always supporting others but not having any support himself. Eugene wished to help Burgie but he couldn’t even help himself so how could he help Burgie in any way?
“Fucking do it then, I know you want to! You act tough but in reality, Snafu’s right! You’re just new here. A dumbass recruit. A replacement that wasn’t needed. You’d make your parents proud just staying home!” There it was, the built up rage boiling over.
Now Bill was getting worked up yet again, “You’re useless to this fucking company!” Eugene was trying to calm Bill down but he was only getting angrier and angrier. Sledge knew this was getting out of control and he planned to pull Bill away from Tony until Burgie exploded. 
“BILL! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! I’LL DEAL WITH TONY LATER, JUST GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” A moment of awkward silence with hot tension felt like hours for Eugene.
After a few seconds, Bill grunted and picked up his fallen helmet, dusting it off, and shoving it back on his head. 
“Fine.” Bill said simply and stomped off, turning his back on everyone. Burgie sighed and Eugene wondered just how much can he take. Instead of following Bill, Eugene decided to talk with Burgie. 
-
Now Eugene didn’t know what to do. Everyone was all tense and unfriendly. The smallest thing could make someone snap. As Eugene thought more and more, all he wished to do was see Snafu again. 
Weeks ago, Eugene would grumble about how he wished Snafu would just… disappear, or at least his vulgar mouth. But now after being away from Snafu and his wild personality for so long, Eugene would do anything to bring back Snafu and his obscene mouth. He prayed for Snafu’s safe return. 
He would wait for however long it would take for Snafu to return. Eugene could only imagine their reunion. Maybe Snafu would be nice..? Or he’d have his snarky attitude back, which Eugene wouldn’t be as irked about it anymore. Perhaps Snafu will yell at Eugene for being reckless. 
Whatever Snafu will do when he returns, which he absolutely will, Eugene would just be thankful for the Cajun’s presence. 
-
“Burgie!” Eugene called out as he quickened his pace to walk beside his friend. The other didn’t say anything, his eyes focused ahead. Eugene swallowed a lump in his throat, wishing to say something to Burgie but not knowing what to say. “I… about Snafu-”
“Eugene, stop. Just stop. Snafu is gone and the only thing we can do is pray he’ll come back to us or at the very least survive. That’s all I want; is for Snafu to be safe. I’m not the only one in this company that thinks this way. Most find Snafu insufferable and yet they wish for him to return, why is that?”
Eugene didn’t respond, figuring out Burgie was trying to liberate all his feelings that were forced to stay in his head, Burgie forced to care about others more than himself. 
“It’s because no matter how annoying Snafu might seem, he kept this company together.” Burgie answered for Eugene. “But he’s gone…” He finished, now quiet, hands tightened into fists as he walked off, Eugene not following anymore.
Snafu was gone, leaving a hole in the company. Eugene hoped with all his might that this hole wouldn’t be permanent. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if the hole remained there.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author’s End Note: Hope you guys liked it!
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buckleysibs · 2 years
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alright i’ve been tagged by @capseycartwright @ekstasisandangst @queerpanikkar @prettyboyandthekid to share my 5 fave fics that i’ve written thank u beloveds!! mwah alrighty here we go!!
horrified looks from everyone in the room (i’m only looking at you) | t | 11.9k
Buck’s unpacking his suitcase ahead of the three-night stay, rambling away to Eddie about how he hopes Taylor’s having a good time at the spa he convinced Maddie to take her to, but Eddie can barely hear him beyond the blood rushing past his eardrums. He thinks back to that first conversation with Hen all those months ago, about how he was so sure of how the rest of his life was going to look, and about how the rug was swept from under him for the third time in as many years. Hen called brave then, but Eddie thinks he’s anything but.
Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.
If you love Buck, you need to tell him.
-
Eddie realises he's in love with Buck. Buck gets engaged, but not to him.
everything comes back to you | t | 2.6k
“Did you really drive all this way, just for me?” he interrupts, his heart hammering in his chest.
Eddie hesitates before nodding slowly, scratching at his chin. “Of course I did.”
Buck blinks slowly, feeling the familiar stinging of tears in his eyes. “It’s two in the morning.” he chokes out, wincing internally at the way his voice cracks. “Why did you come now?”
Eddie shrugs, the corner of his lip quirking up in an imitation of a smile. “You needed me.” he states. “You’re my family, and you needed me. When my family needs me, I come running. Simple as that.”
one to ten | t | 1.4k
he opens his eyes, rolling over and spying the rumpled covers next to him. his brain struggles to piece the puzzle together, a mismatched jigsaw that won’t quite work until his phone buzzes on the nightstand next to him. he’s greeted with a picture taken only two weeks earlier, of sunkissed cheeks pressed together and wide, unabashed grins without a care in the world. three words accompany the photo and the star emoji on the screen. three simple words.
one to ten?
stood on a cliffside screaming ‘give me a reason’ | t | 2.6k
“Give me a reason.” he blurts, clamping his mouth shut immediately afterwards as his face begins to feel hot.
Eddie pauses, tilting his head. “I’m sorry?”
Buck swallows, the room suddenly feeling a hundred times smaller. “Give me a reason to break up with her.” He rasps out.
Eddie blinks at him with zero expression on his face, and Buck finds the palms of his hands getting sweaty as he waits for some, for any response. Finally, after a silence that feels like it stretches on for millenia, Eddie replies. “Evan,” He breathes, wide eyed and shocked and so, so beautiful. “What are you saying?”
(or; Buck realises he maybe isn't quite as happy as he thought.)
should’ve said no | t | 3.5k
So, when they’re god knows how many beers deep and Eddie leans in to kiss him, all sultry eyes and pouty mouth, Buck doesn’t stop him. He knows he should - knows that he’s got a girlfriend who he says he loves, but the instant Eddie’s lips meet his all of that becomes inconsequential. He can’t taste the copper tang of Eddie’s blood anymore. Suddenly, Buck’s the lonely traveller dying of thirst, Eddie the oasis, and Buck just can’t get enough.
(or: a different take on the events of 5x11)
i’m not sure who’s done this yet but tagging uhhhhh @thatbuddie @halosdiaz @eddiessluttytanktop @captainchimney and anyone else who fancies it!!
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