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#so i’m starting from the beginning again and bu the time i finish it should be thursday
taexual · 5 months
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sleepwalking ● 10 | jjk
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pairing: jungkook x fem!reader
summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.
genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers
warnings: explicit language, mentions of blood (just a nosebleed friends), suggestive themes, lovesick characters, SLOW BURN
words: 8k
read from the beginning ○ masterlist
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chapter 10 ► don’t try to fight the storm, you’ll tumble overboard, tides will bring me back to you
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That night, Jungkook realised he had a new pre-concert tradition: tossing and turning in his bunk on the tour bus.
And it wasn’t the upcoming performance that was keeping him awake. It was the fact that he’d almost kissed you not even two hours ago, and now you were lying metres away from him in your own bunk.
He thought he was insane, the way he could identify your breathing. Although to be fair, that was mostly because Hoseok sighed and moved his limbs back and forth, Taehyung and Luna stayed up whispering into all kinds of hours of the night, and Yoongi just plain snored (despite always claiming otherwise) – you were easy enough for him to differentiate.
But he couldn’t tell if you were asleep or not.
You weren’t—obviously—but, unlike him, you forced yourself not to focus on how close he was. Forced yourself not to hear the soft creaking that was caused by him, evidently still awake, but trying not to be.
It was almost ironic how aware you were of each other, how your minds were thinking the same thing, but your bodies were resisting it.
A part of you wanted to get up. Wanted to walk up to him and ask point-blank, “what the fuck was that?”. But you stayed still, your fists clenched, and eyes stubbornly squeezed shut.
Maybe you didn’t ask because you didn’t know what you expected to hear in response.
Similarly, Jungkook tortured himself with the possibility of simply explaining himself to you. Although he wasn’t sure what he would say. Why didn't he kiss you? Would it really have been so terrible?
But it would have. He knew that. He found himself unable to kiss you because he knew his friends would assume he’d done it to win the bet.
He exhaled deeply and Hoseok—in his bunk, right in front of Jungkook—turned to his other side and stretched his leg out, dangling it over the edge of the bed.
Maybe he should just tell his friends that the bet was off. And if they didn’t agree, maybe he should kick them off the tour. They’d go home. He probably wouldn’t see them again.
But then, would he have anything left?
As his eyes drifted to your bunk again, he swallowed and tossed away the pillow from under his head, resting on the bare mattress instead. He hoped he could at least get a few minutes of sleep.
In the morning, he’d try to focus on other things. It might not work for very long, but he could at least try. He could start by showing the lyrics he’d been working on to Namjoon.
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After finishing your phone call with the label executives in Rated Riot’s dressing room during the band’s soundcheck before the Oslo show (Jett Records were thrilled now that the tour was nearly sold out), you were surprised when you turned around and saw Yoongi.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, checking the time on your phone. “Didn’t the soundcheck—”
“Came for a bottle of water, but overheard your call,” he explained, lifting the bottle in his hand. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s perfect, actually,” you replied, looking down to slip your phone into your pocket. “I was on the phone with a few execs.”
When you looked up, Yoongi had a very specific comment about that.
“You’re bleeding,” he said.
“I’m—oh.” You felt it immediately after his words registered—a thick, uncomfortable warmth under your nose. You raised your hand and instinctively threw your head back. “Oh, shit.”
Yoongi jumped to grab the box of tissues off the table. He ripped open the package and handed you one.
“Here.” He lead you to the couch at the back of the room. “I’ve heard you’re not supposed to tilt your head back when you—sit down.”
You wiped your philtrum and pressed the tissue tightly to your nose to stop the bleeding.
“You heard right. It’s a reflex,” you said, allowing him to help you lower yourself on the couch. “I’m fine, though, it’s—I used to get nosebleeds all the time in school. It’s nothing.”
He still looked worried as he sat down next to you.
“I think you’re overworking yourself,” he said. “Are you sleeping?”
The question you’d asked every member of Rated Riot almost every day made you snort.
“I’m sleeping, Yoongi,” you said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You were saying that someone from the label called you? Everything alright?”
“Mmhmm.” You nodded and immediately froze as you realised that moving your head wasn’t good for the bleeding. “They’re very pleased. I’m afraid you’ll only be able to rest for a few weeks once the tour wraps up. They want a new record as soon as you’re home.”
“That’s fine,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss your concern. “We’re musicians, it’s what we do.”
“You’ve been working without breaks, though. I’m a little worried.”
“Said our manager, while literally having a nosebleed.”
You looked away and insisted, dignified, “I’m fine.”
“So are we,” he said. “We’re used to this.”
You didn’t doubt it. The four of them lived and breathed music, so they obviously didn’t mind being constantly surrounded by it. Especially Yoongi. You knew he was in another band before, but he didn’t talk much about his time before Rated Riot. And you never asked, although you were certainly curious—not only as his friend, but as his manager, too. The vocalist from Yoongi’s old band had an extraordinary voice, she could have added a unique layer to Rated Riot’s new album. You wondered if he was still in touch with her.
“I thought we’d agreed on putting out EPs for now, though?” Yoongi said, distracting you from your thoughts.
“Yeah, uh, they’re fine with everything,” you said, pulling the tissue away. The bleeding had stopped, which was a relief because you didn’t have time to be stuck here for half an hour with a nose stuffed with tissues. “They’re simple people: the more shows you sell out, the more lenient they become.”
Yoongi chuckled and got up to bring you a fresh tissue. Then he returned to the table by the door and put his bottle down.
He appeared to be hesitating. You waited for a few seconds until he turned around, and you could see right away that he still had more to say, but it was taking him some time to find the words.
“There’s something else I wanted to mention to you,” he said after a minute, confirming your thoughts. “But maybe now isn’t the right—”
“I’m fine,” you repeated. His hesitation made you nervous. “What is it?”
“Did you know Jungkook was working on some music?” Yoongi asked. His expression resembled that of a disappointed teacher, and you were surprised to find yourself in the role of the student.
“Yeah, he, uh, mentioned it the other night,” you replied.
You got up to throw away the tissues and kept your gaze on the floor. The memory of last night and everything you and Jungkook had talked about, or, rather, not talked about, was still fresh in your mind. You were almost afraid that the night sky from yesterday would be reflected in your eyes when you looked up.
“Did he say what it was?” Yoongi asked.
Awkwardly, you replied, “not, um—not in detail.”
“Well, he played a quick demo to Namjoon and me earlier today. And it’s good stuff,” he said with a deep exhale that forced his shoulders to hunch and made him appear very small. His otherwise strong and commanding presence contradicted this appearance very much. He continued, “it’s just… it’s more Cigarettes After Sex than Architects. Not to mention, Reconnaissance. Or, you know, any other band that we usually get inspiration from.”
You nearly flinched at the mention of Reconnaissance and crossed your arms over your chest to play it off.
It made sense for Yoongi to be unsettled by this; he was responsible for a lot of Rated Riot’s music and was one of the main influencers of the band’s sound.
What didn’t make sense, however, was why he was talking to you about it.
“Did you tell him that?” you asked.
“I told him to keep working on it,” he said. “He said he recorded it on his phone as soon as he woke up because he came up with the lyrics very late at night. And we—well, I don’t want to discourage him.”
“Right,” you nodded, thinking that perhaps it was just Yoongi himself who needed encouragement, which was why he came to you. You tried to get him to elaborate, “so, you think he’s deviating from Rated Riot’s normal sound?”
“Not… deviating, exactly,” he said, reaching for something behind his neck—perhaps to adjust a bothersome label on his leather jacket, or maybe just to scratch an unreachable itch somewhere deep inside his skin. “We’re versatile, I like to think. Definitely not restricted to a certain genre and nothing else. But, well, if our new record’s going to be a heartbreak anthem, then I’m afraid all the effort we’re putting into making this tour a success could be in vain.”
You were surprised. But not about the fact that Jungkook was, apparently, working on songs about heartbreak (your mind decided to compartmentalise this information and deal with it later; maybe when you were alone in your bunk on the bus). No, you were surprised that Yoongi was so adamantly opposed to it.
“You have a few songs that are, on a certain level, about heartbreak,” you reminded him. “They didn’t do so bad.”
That was gentle. The songs were a success for a non-pop band that was just starting out. Even some mainstream radio stations picked up some songs, although they were never included in regular rotation. But that was understandable, and it was still good enough for the time being.
“Yeah, I don’t mean that they wouldn’t do well. But a whole album? You know? A whole album full of nothing, but heartbreak?” Yoongi continued, his voice showing first glimpses of agitation. You watched him, squinting slightly as you tried to find what to say. He paced back and forth by the tables as he explained, “I mean, intense emotion is fine. It’s appreciated. We work with it every time we’re in the studio. But there are only so many metaphors for getting your heart ripped out.”
Your eyes widened at the intense words—there was heartbreak, and then there was a ripped-out heart—but you hoped Yoongi didn’t catch it—he did—as you cleared your throat and composed yourself as much as possible before speaking.
“Was that…” you tried, your voice weak, “what his new song was about?”
“Not yet, because he only had one verse,” Yoongi admitted. He stopped pacing and began to watch you. You thought you had gotten used to him, but now you felt intimidated again, almost like the first time you’d met. “But he’s headed there.”
You were at a very awkward loss for words, so you only hummed and nodded lightly.
Yoongi continued in response to your silence, “he once told me that he texts someone else about his lyrics. Maybe not in this case, but perhaps he’s shown something else to, um... to this person?”
You lifted your eyebrows, not catching the insinuation. “Someone else is helping him?”
Yoongi seemed taken aback by your reaction.
“Oh, you didn’t—I was hoping that person was you. But you didn’t know?” he asked. There was a sharp edge in his voice that made you look down.
“No,” you admitted. You thought that was obvious, given your confusion about the specifics of this particular song. If you didn’t know about this one, why would you know what else he was working on?
And you felt irrational guilt at Yoongi’s question—or, rather, at the unintentional accusation in his tone—as you realised that despite your attempts, you didn’t really know everything that went on with the band.
“Okay. I guess that makes sense,” Yoongi said, needing a moment to compose himself. He was convinced that you were the one who reviewed Jungkook’s lyrics, but he could see now that it was unlikely. He couldn’t imagine you approving of the pain that Jungkook’s latest lyrics were so full of, not even for the greater good of the band.
But Yoongi couldn’t guess who else this person could be, because it wasn’t him or Hoseok, and it wasn’t Namjoon, either—none of the usual Rated Riot’s lyricists.
“Regardless,” Yoongi said. “That person could have influence over what he writes next.”
“And you don’t know who it is?” you clarified.
“I have no clue. He never told me.”
You hesitated before suggesting, “I-I guess I could ask him.”
That seemed to be what Yoongi was hoping for.
“Yeah, you should do that,” he said in a tone that he, once again, didn’t control very well. “Ask him what they think of his lyrics. Or, actually, maybe you should find that person yourself. I don’t know why Jungkook is being so secretive about it, anyway. It has to be someone on the label, don’t you think? Someone you would know.”
Yoongi didn’t intend to imply that you weren’t doing your job properly, but he could tell from your reaction that he may have done that. More careful now, he cleared his throat.
“Ah. I don’t know,” he continued, his voice gentler. He wasn’t angry or disappointed. Just anxious, he supposed, and his anxiety didn’t always translate into amiable words. “I mean, it’s great what he’s doing. I’m happy that he writes. But he puts a lot of pressure on himself. He feels a lot, even if he doesn’t always show it.”
“Yeah,” you agreed.
“Yeah,” he echoed. “So, I don’t want it to overwhelm him to the point where he’s blind to everything but the mess inside of him.”
Truthfully, Yoongi didn’t know how to approach Jungkook about this, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it outright. It was a flaw he knew he had—which was more of an undeveloped skill than a flaw—but he preferred to be upfront. He didn’t think he was good at soothing someone’s feelings; he preferred to solve problems.
However, with Jungkook, being straightforward could feel like pouring salt on an open wound. Yoongi’s tendency to be blunt wasn’t suitable for everyone, and he didn’t want to make it worse for the younger member.
He suspected you’d be better at talking to him, and you understood that without Yoongi needing to ask you directly.
“I—yeah,” you said. “Thank you for coming to me. I’ll ask him.”
“Okay, thank you,” he said. Then, he quickly realised what he was saying—perhaps because of the solemn look on your face—and added, “oh, but don’t think it’s because you’ve known him the longest. Well, that should help. But, really, it’s just because you’re good at that. Talking. Just listening. I’m sure the other members would probably ask you to talk to me if I was the one in—um, in a crisis.”
You smiled at the mild word, but there was a sharp spasm in your chest—Nick’s offer to work with Reconnaissance—that made you avoid Yoongi’s gaze when he praised your communication skills.
“Thank you for saying that,” you replied.
He should have given himself more credit. He was clearly capable of saying the right thing at the right time. And your gratitude was the reason why you didn’t think now was the time to bring up Reconnaissance. Maybe that time would never come, and Nick’s offer would just pass. You hoped it would.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said, looking away. He picked up his water bottle again and reached for the door. “I’ll go back. You get some rest, okay? Don’t go looking for him right away. Do it when you’re feeling better.”
You nodded and watched him leave. Alone in the changing room, you swallowed the emotions that had been building up inside you and tried to figure out your next steps.
Deciding to focus on one of your roles – the present manager, not the manager-who-might-quit-but-probably-won’t, and certainly not the ex-girlfriend (although this role gained weird prominence in Europe) – you planned to find Jungkook after the show and talk to him.
About what Yoongi said. Not about anything else.
But as you left the dressing room to find Seokjin and Jimin, you realised that everything in your life was intertwined anyway, and you didn’t know if it would be possible to keep those two roles separate.
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After the concert, you found Jungkook in the smoking area with his friends. They looked like you walked in carrying a pot of gold for the four of them. Except Minjun, who appeared almost wounded when he noticed you.
You did a double-take when you saw his reaction, thinking you had misunderstood. But he developed a sudden interest in the pavement tiles, so you couldn’t really look at him.
However, you didn’t want to worry about that when you were so close to Sid—and, therefore, on the edge of having to endure listening to his voice—so you ignored Minjun’s evasive gaze, and asked for a minute alone with Jungkook. Not only did you need to talk to him, but they were also smoking together right after Jungkook performed an 18-song set, so you had to split them up.
Feigning nonchalance, his three friends excused themselves. You turned around just in time to see them wiggling their eyebrows suggestively at Jungkook.
You chose to ignore their antics once more and noticed Jungkook doing the same as he put out his cigarette without lifting his gaze.
“I had an interesting conversation today,” you said as soon as the venue door closed, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the back of the building.
He had been worried when you asked for a minute alone and the first sense of awkwardness was starting to poke at his mind, but now that you had gotten straight to the point, he felt himself relax. Whatever it was that you wanted to talk to him about, it probably wasn’t as bad as what he’d been dreading.
“Hmm? With whom?” he asked.
“Yoongi,” you said. “He kind of scolded me a little, I think.”
Snickering, Jungkook nodded. Yoongi was the designated disciplinarian in the band. A role he did not accept, but enacted, nevertheless.
“Figures,” he remarked. “About what?”
You crossed your arms, still unaccustomed to the chilly wind, and shifted your weight from one foot to the other.
“Uh, apparently, you’re writing ballads?” you said.
Jungkook needed a second. “You got scolded because I’m writing ballads?”
“He doesn’t want your next record to be a ‘heartbreak anthem’,” you explained. “That’s a direct quote, by the way.”
If the night wasn’t so dark—the glow from the exit sign behind Jungkook wasn’t providing any actual light whatsoever—you would have noticed how he paled after hearing this.
He didn’t know how much Yoongi had told you, and he shouldn’t have been embarrassed in any case—if his lyrics became a song, he’d have to sing it not only in front of you, but in front of thousands of people.
But for some reason, the idea of a large crowd intimidated him less. So, he felt like he needed to do damage control for the one listener he was worried about.
“Oh,” he began slowly. “Well, it definitely won’t be. I’m just… doodling. I don’t know.”
That was a weak excuse. You both knew that if he shared his lyrics with anyone, whether it was Yoongi, or one of the producers—usually Namjoon—that meant he believed he had something worth sharing. He’d never show his “doodles” to anyone. He couldn’t look at some of them himself.
“It’s not just doodling,” you said. “Yoongi thinks it’s good. He just doesn’t want the whole record to be filled with similar slow-tempo songs.”
“Who said anything about slow-tempo?” he asked, even more surprised because he was fairly certain he had made it clear to the two boys that he didn’t have a definite melody yet. “We create music for people to scream along to.”
You smiled. That was a very simple way to put it.
“Well, Yoongi implied that the way you sang sounded kind of—”
“It’s just a demo,” he said. “I’m working on the melody.”
That was fair enough, and you nodded. “Okay.”
He watched you until your eyes moved to his. Suddenly scared, he looked away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Unlike you, he wasn’t cold. Just overwhelmed by everything the two of you were not saying to each other right now.
“Yoongi also mentioned that there’s someone else you send your lyrics to,” you said—asked, maybe; you weren’t sure what you were hoping he’d say.
Jungkook looked startled. “He—what did he say?”
The demanding tone in his voice caught you off-guard.
“Uh, I’m not sure,” you said. “He doesn’t know who’s helping you and h-he just wants to—”
“He doesn’t need to know,” he interrupted, his voice firm. Evidently, this was not a discussion he wanted to have. “There’s no one helping me.”
Really, all this did was make you more curious about what was going on. A part of you wondered if the alleged love of his life in Paris was a real person, after all.
“Why does he think that there is, though?” you pushed.
“Because it’s—it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head, arms crossed and body turned away from you. “I just have someone who looks through the lyrics for me. That’s all.”
You raised an eyebrow. “A friend that I haven’t met?”
“You…” he hesitated. “You’ve met.”
It was possible, and far more likely, you supposed, that this person really was one of the producers at the label. Perhaps someone currently working with a different band, hence the secrecy.
“Okay,” you said, deciding to let it go. He was resisting your questions far too intensely. If Yoongi wanted to know more, he could put on his armour and go to battle himself. “Well, what do they think of your lyrics?”
“My lyrics are fine,” he said curtly. Then, in an eager attempt to change the topic, he asked, “why did Yoongi talk to you about my song in any case?”
“He’s concerned,” you replied.
“About what?”
“About your feelings,” you said, simplifying it so much that you didn’t blame Jungkook for rolling his eyes.
“Because we’re men and we don’t talk about our feelings,” he deadpanned.
“It’s not that. He just didn't know how to...” you faltered. “Well, I wanted to remind you that, uh, no matter what, if there’s something bothering you—even if you don’t want to talk to me about it, you can—”
The “no matter what” was what made him groan, cutting you off. The implication in your words was clear as the memory of the two of you in the bar last night flashed back through his mind.
But it was the insinuation that he’d want to talk to someone other than you that made him pull his hands out of his pockets in agitation.
“I wrote one song!” he declared, his voice gaining volume. Really, this wasn’t even what he was angry about. “Why are you acting like I’m standing on some ledge, about to jump?”
Unfazed by his reaction, you explained calmly, “Yoongi seemed to think you were headed straight down.”
He snickered sarcastically. “Ah. Hopeful for me, isn’t he? Is Namjoon coming to talk to you about his concern for me next? Did they decide to let you know about it, so you’d somehow end my pain and I’d start writing about love, and sunshine, and all the other joys of life instead?”
Truthfully, you hadn’t even considered that possibility. You assumed the rest of the band respected you too much to even mention your relationship with Jungkook, let alone suggest that you could influence him so much that he’d start writing about love instead of heartbreak.
And now you were the one whose skin prickled with shock.
“He—well, Yoongi didn’t say it like—did you, um—”
“If you’re worried that I told them what my songs are about,” Jungkook cut in, ending your near-panicked stuttering, “then I don’t think I have to tell them anything. I’m pretty sure they know enough.”
“No, I…” you began, but claiming that you weren’t worried about that was a lie. You tried again, “I didn’t talk to Namjoon at all. And as for Yoongi—I-I don’t think he was worried about the topic of your lyrics. Not exactly. He just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That’s why he came to me. So I’d check up on you.”
The more you repeated your reasoning, the clearer it became to him that you were just trying to convince yourself. He believed that you were running away from the blatant fact that he was writing about you, and that had to be the reason why Yoongi wanted to talk to you.
Jungkook couldn’t help but snort, mumbling a cynical, “funny.”
Your brows furrowed. “What?”
“Just the way you believe the explanations that you prefer,” he said, an almost hostile glint in his eyes, “instead of the ones that are actually more plausible.”
He was blind to the possibility that his own assumptions could have been wrong, but his words were too unexpected for you to point that out.
Surprised by the accusation, you leaned back so far that you almost tumbled backwards. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t get offended,” he said. He had already stopped talking about his lyrics and Yoongi’s reasoning for talking to you. “I sometimes do it, too. It’s just that, what I prefer to believe is, clearly, different from you.”
You guessed that this wasn’t about your conversation with Yoongi. That this was actually about last night and many nights before.
But you didn’t want to be the one to remind him that he was the reason why you left the bar yesterday. He was the one who ended the conversation on the bridge. He was the one who lied to you about Paris.
If anyone had the right to raise their voice, it was you.
You pursed your lips and regarded him for a few seconds before asking, “is there something you want to talk to me about?”
He looked away. “Later.”
“Later?” You scowled. “When?”
“When the time is right,” he answered, not trying to be ominous but coming off that way anyway.
“When the—okay.” You dropped your hands to your sides and brushed your fingers against your thighs as you looked at the parking lot on your left. “Why don’t you channel this drama into songwriting? Despite Yoongi’s concern, he’s happy you’re writing. And proud.”
Your gentle delivery touched him more than he’d anticipated, and he blinked, turning to look at you with unexpected warmth in his gaze.
He asked softly, “he said that?”
“He didn’t have to,” you said. “But maybe that’s another thing I choose to believe because that’s what I prefer.”
He exhaled and closed his eyes. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“And I didn’t take anything from it, just that you have a point,” you said, bringing your tongue over your lips as you tried to focus on being less petty and more professional. “I have to go back now. But maybe—if whatever you want to talk to me about needs a specific timing, then—”
“I’ll come find you,” he finished.
You watched him for a silent minute while last night played back in your mind in excruciating reverse.
“I was going to say,” you replied, “that perhaps it’d be better if you didn’t.”
He did not seem disturbed by this. “I know.”
“Y-you know what?”
“That you would think that.”
Offended once more—largely because it seemed like you didn’t have to speak at all, he could tell what you were going to say anyway—you clicked your tongue.
“Okay,” you said. “In that case—”
“I’m still going to find you,” he cut in.
You were glaring now. “And if I’m not there when you come looking for me?”
Simply, he said, “I’ll make sure you are.”
“Okay. That’s really—no, you know what?” you paused before the irritation could get the best of you. Maybe the two of you should talk, you figured. To prevent this from escalating and then abruptly stopping. “Fine. Find me. We’ll talk.”
“Okay,” he said.
You nodded. “Until the time is right then.”
You smiled a little as you said this—you weren’t trying to, but the phrase sounded far too ridiculous—and Jungkook felt his shoulders relax.
He smiled back—not because he was trying to, either, but if you smiled, his reflexes moved before he could control them—and nodded back. “Until then.”
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Since the flight to Amsterdam was tomorrow morning, you had to spend another night on the bus. Equipped with chamomile tea and a face mask, you dreaded another sleepless night, but the silence of the truck stop at nearly three in the morning along with the peacefulness inside of the bus as the exhausted band slept, felt comforting.
Considering how little sleep you got the night before, you began to doze off almost as soon as you washed your face and retreated to your bunk. But then a familiar sound of agitated shuffling brought you back to full consciousness.
You listened for a moment, confirming that it was indeed Jungkook who was beside himself again, when suddenly, he spoke into the darkness of the bus, “are you awake?”
Even though he didn’t address you directly, you knew the question was meant for you.
You cleared your throat before whispering, “yeah.” And, because he didn’t say anything else for a while, you added, “why are you awake?”
“I can’t sleep,” he whispered back. “What about you?”
“Me neither, I guess,” you replied, your breathing slowing as your brain alternated between being acutely aware of him and dozing off. “What’s on your mind?”
He didn’t respond and after waiting for a minute, you assumed he ended up falling asleep after all.
But a moment later, you heard the soft squeak of feet against the bus floor, and felt the mattress shift as Jungkook climbed into the bunk next to you. He moved swiftly, catching you so off-guard that you just watched him with helpless eyes as he drew the curtains on your bunk.
You were both completely covered by the darkness, but you could still see his silhouette as he lied down next to you and did not speak.
Different rules applied to conversations at night, you supposed. And your mind functioned differently, too—because you should have asked him what he was doing. Should have clarified if he hadn’t gone out of his mind. Should have explained the possible repercussions of his actions (namely, a bruised ass after you kicked him off the bunk).
Instead, you stayed still.
And it was very strange to sense him here, to feel his warmth, but lie here frozen, too scared to accidentally touch him and find out that he wasn’t really here, that you had just fallen asleep without realising.
But he was here, and you were both, more or less, awake.
And this was what he wanted – to feel safe in the darkness of your bunk, so far away from the bet that he could easily pretend he’d never made it.
“Is this when the time is right?” you asked finally, a teasing tone in your quiet voice. “3 AM?”
“Yes,” he replied, relieved that you greeted him with a joke, and not a kick in the shins.
He hadn’t actually planned it this way. And he wasn’t entirely sure what brought him to your bunk tonight, in particular—maybe your encouraging words about his writing? The tension as you avoided talking about last night?
Or maybe it was just you, always lingering in the corners of his mind. You were present in every one of his memories, no matter how obscure or distant it was. Even before he met you, your absence was noticeable, and it was so significant that he could never overlook it.
Ah. He’d sense the gap in his memory and think of you right away. This was two months before I met you.
He couldn’t escape you and, frankly, he’d given up trying.
He realised he couldn’t control himself any longer. Whatever had been building up inside of him for the past few days had now gotten complete control over him.
The two of you were separated from the rest of the bus by a curtain—like a little private haven in the midst of a larger world—and once your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you felt your breath catch in your throat.
Your gaze drifted out of focus as you strained to keep your eyes locked on his. It would have been so much easier to just glance down, to trace the lines of his nose and cheeks, down to his lips. It would have been easier to reach out and feel him here, to physically make sure this wasn’t a nightmare where he found you just before the whole world collapsed.
But you knew how inappropriate this was and how many lines this crossed: no one else in Rated Riot could just climb into your bunk and lie down next to you like this. It was unheard of, just like the almost-kiss at the bar last night.
As though the two of you were sharing the same memory in real-time, Jungkook spoke up, “I’m sorry.”
Breathless, you asked—not for the first time, “for what?”
“Lots of things,” he replied, his words barely audible, yet very loud when he was so close to you. “But mostly about what happened at the bar the other night.”
“Nothing happened at the bar,” you whispered back.
You heard him swallow before he spoke again. “That’s what I’m sorry about.”
You turned onto your back, creating more distance. Asking him to leave, somehow, didn’t seem to appear in your mind as an option.
“You don’t need to apologise for things that don’t happen,” you said in a very official voice. Hearing it unsettled him. “It’s, um—it’s actually good that nothing happened. Late-night drinking and a busy schedule don’t mix well.”
He noticed that you were drifting back to your professional role, that he’d lost the element of surprise.
Looking down, he admitted, “last night wasn’t… a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing.”
You didn’t look at him no matter how much you wanted to. “No?”
“No,” he confirmed. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I don’t know,” you said, adamantly staring at the ceiling of your bunk as you felt his eyes return to your face. “It’s hard to tell with you.”
“I know.”
“And I don’t want to make assumptions in case I’m believing what I prefer to—”
He sighed, interrupting you. “Everyone does that. I didn’t mean to imply it’s just you. I’m just… I wish you saw things from my perspective.”
“Yeah.” You played with your fingers, intertwining your hands and resting them on your stomach. “That would be easier.”
“But you know me better than anyone,” he said, “so I think you’ve earned the right to make assumptions about me.”
You shook your head gently against the pillow. “You wouldn’t like my assumptions.”
“Try me.”
Finally, you turned your head to look at him. The brightness of his eyes in the dark corner of the bus made you waver slightly, already in the process of looking away, but you licked your lips and composed yourself.
“Okay,” you said. “Well, I assume there’s an external force that’s causing you to do whatever you’re doing, or feel whatever you think you’re feeling. That’s why you keep these secrets. Why you’re so selective about what you tell me. And it’s why you keep, uh, doing something and then stopping yourself.”
Jungkook felt a freezing wave wash over him. “W-what do you mean? What external force?”
“I don’t know,” you replied, sounding genuine. “Maybe it’s what I said before. A different continent, being away from home.”
He was so certain you’d tell him you knew about the bet that he exhaled in immense relief when you didn’t.
“I told you it’s not that,” he said, feeling a rush of happiness—undeserved, but irresistible—that you didn’t know.
You insisted, “right, but it is. Here, you’re doing—we’re both doing things we wouldn’t do back home.”
“Maybe it’s just that here, I have the chance to do the things I wouldn’t be able to do back home,” he argued kindly—like an adult with a toddler who was upset that the sun went down at night, not realising that their own perception of the world could not change the way the world actually was.
Oddly enough, it didn’t feel patronising. You’d thought you were figuring out what was going on with him when, deep down, you—sort of—already knew. You just tried to find an explanation that you preferred –  just as he’d said before.
“It’s just…” you started, hesitating. “Whatever we do here, it will still have consequences back home, you know? It’s not a What-Happens-in-Vegas sort of thing. Not with us.”
“I know,” he said again, and then, most dangerously, he admitted, “and I’m hoping for that.”
“You—you keep changing your mind,” you reminded him, watching the ceiling of your bunk because you couldn’t watch him. “Stopping when it feels like—”
“I know,” he whispered.
“I don’t understand.”
“I… I don’t entirely understand it, either,” he said. “I guess I’m scared of… well, everything.”
“Hmm.” You swallowed. And because this was vulnerable to admit and you hated yourself for feeling this way, you continued, but only in a tentative whisper, “to me, it feels like you know it’s a mistake. Like you regret your actions when you—”
“The only thing I regret is—” he cut himself off, suddenly losing courage. He inhaled and tried again, “what I regret is stopping. I regret not doing what every piece of me wanted to do at that moment. In Stockholm. And in Oslo.”
Quietly, you suggested, “it’s probably the rational part of you that holds you back.”
“You’re my rational part,” he countered. “And I keep coming back to you no matter how hard I try to stay away. I keep crossing the line, I guess.”
You turned to him. “I keep letting you cross it.”
He nodded, his eyes on you. “I know.”
You didn’t know what to say because the pounding in your chest was suffocating. As if your heart had expanded and decided you no longer needed lungs.
Then, Jungkook said into the silence, “I—I wasn’t lying when I took you to Kihyun’s wedding in hopes of getting back together with the love of my life, you know.”
You closed your eyes and exhaled pleadingly, “Jungkook…”
“What?” he asked, a mix of desperation and eagerness in his voice.
You turned to your side, so you were fully facing him, and rested your head on the back of your hand as you watched him for a minute.
Neither of you spoke. You were both waiting.
“I know,” you finally began, “that I have to be the responsible person in a lot of situations with you.” You paused, looking down briefly to gather your thoughts. “But I can’t do it like this. So, please, don’t put me in a position where I have to make the choice that would be best for us. Best for the band. Because I’m not sure I will.”
You were asking him for something, and both of you quickly realised that it wasn’t a request to stop. To pull away. To leave.
“The best choice,” he said, “isn’t always the more responsible one.”
“It usually is.”
Repeating your previous words, he said, “not with us.”
You bit your lower lip as you struggled to formulate a response, let alone a coherent thought.
“You… you’re making me feel overwhelmed,” you finally said, expressing the only thing you were certain of.
“How so?” he asked.
“I forget everything,” you said. “Especially the fact that morning will come and there will be questions about why you’re here and not in your own bunk.”
Jungkook swallowed, the realisation dawning on him.
“You care what other people will think,” he said.
“I have to,” you replied somewhat sadly. It was precisely this sadness that gave him hope and courage to respond.
“I understand,” he said. “I can go.”
You clenched your jaw.
“You should,” you said.
His eyes remained locked on yours. “Do you want me to?”
Your voice was barely audible when you responded, “no.”
Jungkook took a shaky breath. His body shuffled closer. You felt his warmth, felt his thigh touch yours.
 “I… I’ll ask you again,” he said, inhaling deeply after every second word, and inching closer to you each time his chest rose. “Don’t think as our manager. Just for five minutes. Five minutes that won’t mean anything once they’re over.”
You gave a small shake of your head. “What’s the point, then?”
“I just have to know what it’d be like if we were us again,” he said. “Even if only for five minutes.”
You closed your eyes again. You knew it wasn’t that simple. You couldn’t just shut everything off for five minutes and then go back to the way things were as if nothing happened—it was absurd to even think that was possible.
But you nodded, exhaling softly as you looked at him again. The hopeful glint in his eye was still visible, even in the darkness of your bunk.
“Okay,” you breathed.
The bus was silent, amplifying the sound of his pulse in his ears as he reached for you, softly touching your cheek with the tips of his fingers.
All this time, you had been so close to him, yet he did not touch you. It felt like he had to make up for it now as he caressed the side of your face, almost in disbelief that you weren’t just a manifestation of every peaceful dream he’d ever had. That somehow, just by being, you perfectly captured everything he wanted. Everything he needed.
You inhaled his familiar scent – your bunk so full of it that you were positively drowning in him and not trying to stay afloat at all – as your eyes fluttered close. The rest of the world faded away as you felt his breath on your face for just a second, his lips hovering over yours, touching them, but not quite.
A quiet whimper broke off a much deeper whine inside of you and found its way past your lips as you parted them. Your lower lip brushed against his in a moment so charged with invisible power—some innate electricity—that you felt his body twitch against yours.
And then finally, he pressed his lips to yours.
The softness of his lips brought back something that you’d buried deep within; something that came awake late at night in the form of dreams so intense that you’d need a moment in the morning to realise it had only been a dream.
It felt like it now.
Except, as you reached out a hand to touch his chest, he was here.
His lips gently moved against yours as he tilted your face to kiss you harder. His lip ring felt cold against your lower lip, but his embrace was warm and eager. You were breathless, your mind was swimming in memories, but you were not asleep.
He was here, he was here, he was here.
He was here and he felt you move closer, your hand sliding down his chest, pausing momentarily as if frightened by the rapid beating under your fingertips. He exhaled against your mouth, pulling away for less than a second to take a new breath—he only had five minutes with you, he did not have the luxury to breathe anything but you right now. Then, he connected your lips again, his tongue finding yours as deepened the kiss.
The space in your bunk had always felt cramped—every morning, you’d wake up with bruises on your limbs—but now it seemed so impossibly vast, and he couldn’t pull you close enough.
His kiss was as intoxicating as it was sobering, an oxymoron of an embrace. No matter how overwhelmed, how utterly dizzy, light, or heavy it made you feel, you kissed him back.
Your fingers got lost in his hair as he gently pushed your shoulder, rolling you over to your back. He hovered above you, resting one elbow on the mattress and holding your face with his other hand. His thigh came to rest between your legs and your small yelp of surprise at the sudden change of position barely made any sound before his lips were on yours again, gentle and rushing. If anyone asked if he missed you, he could never find adequate words, so he poured all his feelings into this kiss.
The familiarity of his mouth against yours and the taste of his tongue in your mouth caused the back of your neck to prickle with nostalgia for the missing years and eagerness for more. Eagerness for a future that you couldn’t have because you’d promised each other five minutes.
Granted, it was difficult to gauge how much time had passed, as neither of you cared enough to open your eyes, comfortable in the private bubble of darkness.
Your bodies were so accustomed to one another that you did not need to see to know where to touch. Your hands wandered freely across the old paths, drawing over the blurred lines of the maps on each other’s skin.
You learned to ignore the ache in your lungs, because the ache in your chest was stronger. It gripped your heart with claws so deep that it drew blood every time you considered pulling away.
The warmth of his mouth contrasted with the coldness of his fingertips as he gently traced them over the side of your face, neck, shoulders, and over to your hips. His hand slipped under your loose t-shirt, drawing tentative symbols over the parts of your skin that he could reach without pulling his lips away from yours.
He thought he had suffocated a long time ago as the pulse in his ears was replaced by the sound of your mouths moving against each other in a perfectly balanced rhythm—as if you practised every day. As if the four-year intermission had never existed.  
Jungkook felt no sense of being alive, there was no room for it. All he felt was you. And if this was what death felt like, he was perfectly fine with being buried six feet deep like this.
Then – a bump somewhere on the bus jolted you both back to reality.
You both stilled, listening for any signs of movement to confirm that you weren’t the only ones awake. But there was nothing.
Your eyes met in the darkness, and you pulled away, his taste lingering on your lips. You thought you could see him more clearly than before, despite it still being pitch-black in your bunk.
“I think we’ve gone over five minutes,” you whispered, running your tongue over your slightly swollen lips.
“Give me a few extra seconds,” he whispered and leaned in to press another kiss, his tongue meeting yours against your lower lip. A smile stretched on your face as he whispered against your lips, “I’ve waited four years for this.”
You exhaled, your body trembling under him. “This might be the worst thing I’ve agreed to do with you.”
He smiled and reminded you, “you came to Paris with me on a whim.”
“That didn’t take me weeks to recover from,” you said quietly.
He remained mere inches away and his kisses turned into gentle brushes of his cheek against yours. Both of your chests kept rising, then falling—meeting each other, then separating again in a dramatic parallel of your lives—as you tried to catch your breath.
“But this will?” he asked.
“It will.”
Pulling away to look at you, he said, “lucky.”
“How is that lucky?” you asked.
He kissed you once more. There was a certain melancholy in his smile when he pulled away.
“At least you’ll recover,” he said.
You swallowed and opened your eyes, painfully aware of his close proximity and the forbidden nature of it all.
“You will, too,” you said, almost hunching over from the sudden pain in your chest as he sat down next to you. “Five minutes that mean nothing once they’re over, remember?”
You spoke softly, almost apologetically, but what hurt the most was the absence of regret in your voice.
At least, if you regretted what had happened, he would know that it was over for good.
“Right.” He nodded, avoiding your gaze and struggling to get to his feet, because every single fibre of his being pulled him to you. “I’m—I’ll go. You can tell Yoongi not to worry, by the way. I have five minutes of what-might-have-been to write about.”
“You—”
“I’m just kidding,” he said, shooting you a grin.
Before you could notice how sad his eyes looked despite the smile, he leaned in to kiss you goodbye. Funnily enough, this was the kiss that you would spend the whole night thinking about: how natural, familiar, and necessary it had felt.
“These five minutes are between us,” he reiterated for your benefit. “We’ll never speak of it again.”
He pulled back the curtain of your bunk and glanced around to make sure everyone else was asleep. Suddenly, you touched his shoulder and he turned to you again, unsure if your touch was real or just his wishful thinking.
“F-for what it’s worth,” you said, “I really hope there’s an alternative universe where this could work. And not just for five minutes.”
Jungkook thought this could work in this universe, too, but he nodded, hung his head, and quietly climbed out of your bunk, leaving your curtain open as he returned to his own bed.
He hadn’t realised how cold it was on the bus.
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chapter title credits: bring me the horizon, “deathbeds”
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sturniozo · 2 months
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In The Shadows V
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Hey yall! It’s been so long hehe. And I’m very sorry about that. I’ve had a very stressful last two weeks but I prevail and here is the promised part five! I hope you enjoy it! I’m getting my groove back for writing and I’m working on some requests, my two fics, and a valentines day special fic!!! Anyways, go, read. You’ve all waited so patiently for this!
masterlist
Black four inch heels, black boots. A tight red dress, a tight red dress shirt. A black purse, black dress pants and belt. Matt kept his promise and matched outfits with me on our day out.
His arm is wrapped around my shoulder as he leans back in the booth we’re sitting in. He sips on his drink as we’ve just finished our breakfast. He sets his drink down and smiles at me.
“Did you enjoy breakfast?” Matt asks me.
I nod and sit up from leaning back on the booth. Matt’s hand moves to my thigh, caressing it lightly. “Can I get a little kiss?” He whispers in my ear.
I contain my disgust and lean forward, kissing my false husband on the lips. He leans back in the booth, moving his arm back to around my shoulders.
“What should we do now?” He asks. “We have eight hours before the party starts.”
“I can think of a few things we can do in eight hours.” I say.
Matt smirks and lowers his arm. “We should get going.” He murmurs to me.
I nod and he gets up from the booth, with me following behind. He takes my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. I smile and lean close to him. “You’re over doing it.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He whispers back to me. I clench my jaw tightly shut as Matt sets his card down for the bill. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” Matt says to me before kissing my knuckles and leaving for the restroom.
I stand at the side of the booth, holding my handbag in front of me. I wait patiently for Matt and the waiter walks to the table to pick up the check. Matt comes back from the bathroom the same time as the waiter does as he returns the card.
“Thank you.” Matt says as he takes his card back. He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me out of the restaurant.
He opens the car door for me and I get inside. I set my handbag down on the dash and lean back in my seat and Matt closes the car door and goes to the other side of the car to get into his own seat. He starts the car and begins backing out of the parking lot.
“Little bit extra in there.” I say to him.
Matt smirks. “Don’t act like you don’t love when I kiss you.”
“I don’t.” I scoff.
“Really? Because from what I can tell you’re always pretending to hate me.” Matt says.
I roll my eyes. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“I bet you’d love to be filled with me.”
I groan and roll my eyes again. “Jesus.” I mumble.
“Oh wow, I didn’t know you can recognize me without my sandals.” Matt says coolly and he turns the wheel with just one hand.
“You’re so-“
“So what, darling?” Matt says. He glances over at me and smirks. I stay silent, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms. “Seriously though,” Matt says, breaking the silence. “What did I do to get you to hate me so much?”
“We didn’t exactly end on good terms, if you remember.” I tell him.
“I don’t remember it ending at all.” He says. I look at him and he glances at me, moving his eyes back to the road.
“You knew what you did.” I say to him, turning back to look out the window of the car.
“But I didn’t know it then. That’s got to count for something.”
“You stayed!” I snap. “Even after you found out you stayed.”
“What choice did I have?” Matt asks as he pulls the car into the driveway.
“You had a choice.” I mumble before getting out of the car, harshly grabbing my handbag and slamming the car door shut behind me.
~
Hampton. That name rang through my head for days after I heard it from Matt’s mouth. Hampton. Where have I heard that name before?
I tapped my pencil and bounced my leg in the same fast pace, bitting my lip as I try to figure out the answer to something that’s been bugging me.
Hampton. Matt’s going to work for Hampton’s company. They’re second to us in our field. Why would he go work for second best? That’s not like Matt.
I racked my brain for everything I can remember about them. It’s not like I could look this stuff up, they cover their tracks just as well as we do. Hampton. Hampton.
My eyes widened.
Seth Hampton?
~
“Come on, we’re going to be late for the party.” Matt groans from outside my bedroom door.
I ignore him as I curl the last strand of my straight hair. I cup it lightly and twirl my finger around the strand, letting the curl bounce loosely. I smile and unplug the curler, now satisfied with my hair.
I stand up and flatten down my dress, the go to open the door. “I’m all done.” I say and walk past Matt.
“We were supposed to leave five minutes ago.” Matt groans and follows me.
“Five minutes is nothing.” I roll my eyes.
Matt smiles at me as we walk down the stairs. “You look… pretty.” He says.
I laugh. “I wasn’t really going for pretty, but thanks.”
“If you weren’t going for pretty then what were you going for?” Matt asks as we walk out of the house.
I shrug. “Hot?”
Matt rolls his eyes and opens the car door for me. “They’re the same thing.”
“No they are not!” I laugh. “They’re two different ways to describe someone.”
“But they both convey attractiveness.” Matt gets into the drivers side.
I shake my head. “But they still mean different things.”
Matt just sighs and starts the car. “Let’s just get to this party and mean this Finn guy, huh?” He says.
“Yeah, yeah.” I nod.
“And make sure you wear your ring, I don’t need any Swiss men hitting on my wife.”
I laugh. “I’m not even your real wife.”
“I still don’t like the thought of someone else hitting on you.” Matt says as he shakes his head.
I laugh again. “Like you’d ever make a love yourself.”
Matt stays silent, his jaw closed tightly. I close my lips and look down at my lap, staring at my hands as I play with the ring. “I’m wearing the ring anyways, so it’s not a big deal.” I say.
Matt stays silent.
“Matt, come on. What made you so mad?” I ask.
“Nothing. We’re here.” He says as he pulls into the lavish driveway.
The driveway makes a full circle, with a fountain in the middle. The fountain is made of beautiful stone and is surrounded by well cut shrubs.
“Wow, Matt, this place is beautiful.”
Matt grunts. “Act like you’re used to this, you’ll blow our cover.” He gets out of the car and opens my door for me.
“Smile, you’ll blow our cover.” I say to him. He stares me in the eyes as he forces the worst fake smile I’ve ever seen.
“We’re doomed.” I sigh.
TAGS: @sturniolopookie @savageking3 @tastesousweet @jko3005 @sturniolo0ntop @cheesesoda @stvrnise @blueeyedbesson @crazycoka @ambersworld69 @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora @hearts4chris @carolinalikesthings @mattscokewhore
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juliemolinaz · 1 year
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I’ve seen people not liking Uk or Yeong’s actions/expressions in this episode and I think everything they said/did makes so much sense.
Yeong knows that her soul is going to be kicked out of Bu-yeon’s body very soon and that Uk will be left behind. All of her actions in this episode revolve around that. She doesn’t tell Uk who she is at the beginning of the episode because she knows that Uk has made peace with her death and that he would be in agony again if he found out she was alive only to have her die on him again. When Uk says he’s going to feign ignorance and instead asks if they should remain in Gwisu together, Yeong tells him to go and take down Jin Mu’s organization. I’m sure that there’s a big selfish part of Yeong that would love to spend the rest of her remaining time with Uk, but she knows that so many of the people that she and Uk care about would be hurt if they did nothing. Those people will also be there for Uk after she’s gone, which is another reason she tells Uk to leave her and defeat Jin Mu’s secret organization. When the turtle brings Yeong the plaque and she exits Gwisu, she tells the Unanimous Assembly what happens and they tell her to remove the Ice Stone from Uk. She obviously doesn’t want him to die, so she tells the Unanimous Assembly that there is one soul shifter, aka her, left. That way, the Uk still has some sort of purpose for the Unanimous Assembly and they won’t want him to die. She has no idea that Jin Bu-yeon is most likely Jin Seol-ran, so she’s assuming that Jin Bu-yeon won’t do anything to Uk once she resumes control of her body. Or, by killing her, Bu-yeon will also die and then no one will be able to take the Ice Stone out of him. Uk can kill the last soul shifter and then be safe. When Yul tells her about how she wasn’t in control of herself when she killed Uk because of Jin Mu and the bells, she doesn’t want Uk to know because she knows it would destroy him to learn that he couldn’t protect Yeong the first time or save her this time. Having the uncertainty of why she did what she did is better than knowing she was taken advantage of yet again before her death. Everything Yeong has done in this episode has ultimately been motivated to try and help Uk be in as little pain as possible after she’s gone.
As for Uk, a lot of his actions in this episode have come from him following Yeong’s lead. Once he connects the dots, he knows there’s a reason that Yeong isn’t telling him who she is. When he tells her that he’s going to feign ignorance, he still gives her the opportunity to tell him who she is by telling her that he’d stay in Gwisu with her if she asked him. When she doesn’t, he goes to stop Jin Mu’s organization while also making sure that Yeong will be the one to finish Jin Mu off. He also knows what happened the last time he kept Yeong close, so I’m sure that there’s a part of him that thinks that if he kept his distance from Yeong, she would be able to stay alive and not get found out as a soul shifter. When Yul tells Uk what he knows and that Yeong is going to die, I’m sure that he would love to go find Yeong and spend time with her, but he’s still following her lead. Then he finds out everything that she said at the Unanimous Assembly about how she’s set things up that he needs to kill her. He then finds her at Danhyanggok and I’ve seen people say that he should have had a more profound reaction. How could he? It’s not like this was a happy reunion. Uk knows that Yeong is going to die soon. How could he be happy? And then Yeong says she’s already let him go and starts to cry, so Uk also is trying to be strong for her so he can be supportive. If Uk had found out who Yeong was before she knew she was going to die and she then started to push him away, his reaction would have been a whole lot different.
Bu-yeon/Seol-ran telling Yeong that her soul was going to leave Bu-yeon’s body meant that we were always going to have this angst between them.
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sprinklesofktrash · 2 years
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ATEEZ reaction to ‘fuck me’ eyes:
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Hoongjoon:
“Baby tell me how I look when I do this” You tug his shirt so he could look at you. Hoongjoon look up from trying to write lyrics.
You reenact to the video you saw. When you finished, Hoongjoon just sits there. “Awh!” He lean in to pinch your cheeks. You blush as a smile form up your lips.
“Don’t you feel silly?” Hoongjoon eyes focus back on writing his lyrics. You hiss and turn away.
Seonghwa:
Your relationship with Seonghwa would be fill with love and a lot of cleaning. When it comes to cuddles, he would be the type to spoon you but you could feel his hard cock pressed against your back. You just know what he wants.
Watching a TikTok video one day, you decide to try the trend with the ‘Fuck me eyes’ and see how he would react.
Seonghwa scoff and rolled his eyes, continue to scroll through his phone. Not even a second later, he drop everything and straddle over you.
Yunho:
Yunho isn’t the type to show skinship in public but you, you didn’t care. You would kiss him or even hug him.
While waiting for the bus, you wrap your arms around Yunho’s torso. The best thing about having a tall boyfriend is that you can do the fuck me eyes any time.
You look up at Yunho who was stroking your head softly. He looks down to see you were pouting.
Yunho pout back. You started doing the fuck me eyes, making Yunho blush and look away. “My knees almost gave in” Yunho whispered making your both laugh.
Yeosang:
Yeosang doesn’t really like to show his emotions. He does it every now and then. You’re the outgoing girlfriend while he’s the calm and collected boyfriend. You both balances out each other.
“That’s cute!” You watch a TikTok on his lap. Yeosang try to look at your phone so you showed him it. “Can you do it?” He asks. You rolled your eyes.
“Can I do it?” You scoff. “Now it’s three in the mornin’ and I’m tryna change your mind” you mock to the video.
Silence.
“Hmm, yeah no. You got lazy eyes, this challenge don’t suit you” Yeosang cover your face with his hand. You burst out laughing, “that’s so mean!” You push his hand out of your face. Yeosang laughs with you and lean down to kiss your forehead.
“I’m kidding, you look kinda cute” he said against your forehead.
San:
“Why do you always have to film yourself?” San asks annoyingly as he put the car to park.
You were trying to film yourself doing the ‘fuck me eyes’ to see if you could do it. San on the driver seat watches you from the side.
You pressed play and begin recording yourself while San was watching. Once you realized you did it, you laugh so loud and got excited over it.
“Oh my god, it’s so funny, I forgot to laugh” San said nonchalantly. You groan and hit his shoulder for being so annoying.
Mingi:
You showed a video that you posted on TikTok, while Mingi watches it, you watch his reaction. His cheeks turns into a hint of red as he watches it.
“Phew, babe you have too much power, come here” He pull your chin to look at him. “You’re so cute” he peck your lips before looking down at your lips and back at your eyes.
“Did you just-“ He cut you off by kissing you again.
Wooyoung:
Between two of you, it’s always been a race of who’s give the best aegyo, sadly he wins all the time.
While he’s busy at recording, you sent him an impression of you doing the ‘Fuck me eyes.’ You wanted to know see his reaction but sadly you didn’t get anything.
When Wooyoung came back from practice, he quickly grab you and hold you in between his arms. “That should be illegal! Do it again! Wait! If this is for TikTok, let’s record! I promise to make it look like it’s my first time seeing it!” Wooyung excitedly, shaking you with him.
Jongho:
Jongho is the type to cringe at every cute things you do. He hates it when you’re being cute but lowkey likes it.
“Babe, look” you bat your eyes at him, pouting along the way. Jongho stare at you before he gag. You rolled your eyes after you saw his reaction. You threw a pillow at him, making him laugh.
“That’s cute, you thought you were being cute” he continue to laugh at you.
178 notes · View notes
dystini · 1 year
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Indycar Driver Lore
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Indycar Driver Lore Masterlist
David Joseph Malukas
Birthdate: Sept. 27, 2001 Hometown: Chicago Residence: Chicago Height/Weight: 5’10”/150lbs
Rookie Year: 2022
Team: Dale Coyne Racing with HMD Motorsports
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Follow him on: Instagram Twitter
Career Stats 2022: Dale Coyne Racing w/ HMD Motorsports - 16th Overall
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-Graduate of INDY NXT by Firestone, he begins his second season with the NTT INDYCAR SERIES with Dale Coyne Racing with HMD Motorsports. -2021 INDY NXT by Firestone runner-up, claiming seven wins, 16 podiums, six pole positions. -In 2016, started racing cars in Europe before focusing on the Road to Indy and racing in USF2000 in 2017 and Indy Pro 2000 in 2018. Also raced in Formula Regional Americas Championship Powered by Honda, where he finished second in the series with two wins and 15 podiums. -Was a multi-time karting champion who was featured on TruTV's "Kart LIfe" in 2015. -A first-generation Lithuanian American and the only son of immigrants who moved to Chicago in 1991, David inherited his father Henry’s love of racing. Grew up watching his father race at Road America. He wears both flags on his suits -David lives in the southwest Chicago suburbs – not far from Dale Coyne Racing’s shop – and enjoys mountain biking, hi-fidelity music and “I’m a bit of a gamer.” -loves to dance -david was homeschooled for high school due to being in europe for karting -never had a prom/standard high school experiences -was very homesick during his time in europe -used to know some german and italian -plays more strategy heavy games like Hearts of Iron and Stellaris, but does play mainstream games like Apex: Legends and Beatsaber as well -Uses Beatsaber for reaction-time practice -Can't have coffee anymore. Used to be addicted and his doctor said no more. -star wars fan, said his favorite season was season 7 and thinks Cad Bane is a cool villain -fan of Chelsea FC
-Dad and Mom (Henry & Daiva Malukas) are owners of: -HMD Trucking -HMD Bar & Grill -HMD Motorsports
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Iconic/memorable moments David's episode of Bus Bros. INSIDE THE RACE // DAVID MALUKAS AT BARBER MOTORSPORTS PARK Tom Griswold Interviews David Malukas (2022 Indy 500) The Rookie Chronicles 2022 TRACK WALK // LONG BEACH WITH DAVID MALUKAS 2022 PACE CAR LAPS // TAKUMA SATO AND DAVID MALUKAS AT BARBER Marshall Pruett and David Malukas practice/quali/race reports 2022-23 2022 RACE RADIOS // DAVID MALUKAS AT WORLD WIDE TECHNOLOGY RACEWAY How did 20 year old IndyCar rookie David Malukas celebrate on the podium W/O champagne? “OMG They’re Penskes!”
JAVA WITH JAMES // DAVID MALUKAS WITH JAMES HINCHCLIFFE
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David is genuinely happy and excited to be in the Indycar series and it shows. He is enthusiastic, ready to participate in any social media activity, even the embarrassing ones. Despite driving for a team on the lower end of the budget scale, David has shown remarkable results on occasion and always expresses awe to find himself racing against the big names and big teams of the series. His talent is undeniable at just 21 years old and we will be watching his career with great interest for many years to come.
Look, I’m trying to be objective about him but he’s so stinking cute and fun and I think everyone should adore him. As a friend said, just a cute little fairy creature who decided to be a racecar driver for whatever reason. He’s all happiness and sunshine and it’s rare to see him sad or upset.
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Fanfic Lore There are really no set pairings for him. He’s been sort of adopted by the Bus Bros as a Bus Cousin. Battled for the IndyNXT championship title with Kyle Kirkwood and they are friends. Karted with Christian Lundgaard in Europe when they were kids.
ROOKIE PALS, RIVALS LUNDGAARD, MALUKAS CROSSING PATHS AGAIN
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33 notes · View notes
peaceteaa11 · 10 months
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Kisses and Tattoos
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Series: Kisses and Tattoos - Pt. 2
Pairing: Eddie Munson X Reader (Y/N)
Ratings: E for everything who loves Eddie Munson. angst, fluff, miscommunication.
Warnings: miscommunication, sadness because the reader and Eddie are totally in love but it seems a bit impossible. NOT PROOF READ!
Summary: You decide to go to another show to see Eddie again but once you do… you can’t help but notice a new tattoo.
A/N: y’all. I’m so sorry this took forever and that it’s not that good lol. I actually had to finish up another year of college, my partner and I broke up, and I’ve been having a rough time. But when all things seems hopeless… Eddie Munson is there to help us out. I hope y’all don’t hate my guts. Peace and Love, Babes.
Word Count: unknown atm
***Go check out my other Eddie fics! Eddie Munson Masterlist***
Proper communication is wayyyyy sexier than whatever this is about to be yall.
─────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
You felt your stomach drop as you walk into the venue. It has been about three months since you left Eddie standing on the steps of his tour bus. He never called you... honestly, you didn't know how to act now that your friends have dragged you to another show of his. It was strange that his band came back to your crappy town so quickly, your friends are convinced that it is because he is looking for you again but if that were true... why wouldn't he have just called.
About fifty minutes into the show, you and your friends in the middle of the pit as girls call out to Eddie, you watch as he rips his shirt off. You feel your chest tighten at the sight, he is beautiful. As girls scream, beg for his attention, your eyes fall onto a new tattoo on his shoulder.
You squint your eyes trying to focus when he suddenly bends down, all his hair pulled to the opposite side as he grabs a water from the stage floor. Oh good lord, it that... are those... your teeth marks.
You eyes nearly jump out of your skull as you stare at him while the show continues. Why on earth would he get that tattooed. Your mind starts to race at lightning speed, everything blurring around you. Is that... is it a trophy to him? Are all his tattoos trophies? Are you just another groupie, fooled by his charms?
Everything begins to hurt, your heart, your stomach, your head. You have to get out of here. You quickly tell your friends that its just too much and that you never should have come. You hear some of them call your name as your push through the crowd towards the exit.
You run the streets of downtown mindlessly, your feet taking you exactly where you wanted to be. Somewhere comfortable. Before you knew it you found yourself at your favorite shop. You burst through the door and the workers great you buy name as you rush towards the bathroom of the little twenty-four hour cafe. You stare at your reflection, tears stream down your face. How could you be so stupid.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You sit in your usual corner of the cafe, sipping on your usual drink, watching the clock tick by. Your friends should be getting out anytime now, you know you should walk back but you just can't find the will to get any closer to Eddie than you already are.
You stare down into your tea when the bell of the front door rings. "Hey. Saw you run this way." You look up to see your friend Liv smiling brightly. "I told everyone this is where you'd go... I'm a genius." She sits down across from you and frowns.
"Where are the others?" You frown back at her.
"They wanted to stay back and see if the band would do a little meet and greet since the venue is so small. Not all of us got the chance to smooch the lead singer." She laughs, obviously trying to break the tense but she frowns when you wince. "I'm sorry."
You shake your head and force a small laugh. "It's not your fault I was stupid enough to think that-"
"Don't do that to yourself. He's... he's stupid to have not called. Stupid." She says as you look up to meet her eyes. You give a sad smile and she sighs. "What made you... uh leave?"
You groan and shake your head. "I... god this is so embarrassing."
"Well, now you have to tell me." She laughs as you meet her gaze once more. A deep blush creeping onto your face.
"Ugh. I- well did you see the new tattoo on Eddie's shoulder?" You feel your insides turn in a mixture of embarrassment and saddness.
"Yea! The teeth marks those were so- holy fuck! No way! Tell me those aren't-"
"Keep your voice down!" You whisper, grabbing her hand as she starts to laugh.
"Oh my fucking god! I cannot believe that! Oh my-"
You smile as she continues to ramble on and on. You begin to feel a bit better about everything, you don't even hear the door bell ring out once again.
Eddie stares at you as he tries to catch his breath. Losing security and screaming fan girls was not easy and even when he did he didn't slow for a second. He ran all the way here only based off of some crappy directions your friends gave him, he's sure he took longer than necessary when he made a few wrong turns.
He can't help but smile as you laugh, tossing your head back, shaking your hair about as you chat with the friend the other mentioned, the one who went looking for you.
"Hi sir! Welcome in!" The voice makes him jump and suddenly your eyes are on him. His skin is set ablaze, god, even your stare was igniting his feelings for you.
Eddie watches as your friend turns around and smirks at him. She excuses herself from the table and goes to talk to the guys at the counter.
You watch as Eddie slowly walks to take Liv's place. He sits down across from you, leather jacket barely hanging on his shoulders, his chest completely exposed. Your skin feels so hot you think you might be burning alive. Why does his gaze have to be so intoxicating?
"Hi." He smiles softly as you begin to play with your rings.
"Hi." You whisper so softly Eddie strains to hear it. He missed your voice so much this whisper barely did anything for him, but he would settle on a whisper is that's all you wanted to give him.
"I... I tried to-"
"Why are you here Eddie?" You sigh as you try to keep yourself from crying, tears already surfacing in your eyes.
"I... I wanted to see you. I-" Eddie winces when you look away from him, your eyes scanning the cafe instead. "I tried to ca-"
"I really have nothing to say to you right now. I... I think you should go." You don't dare to look at Eddie in fear of bursting into tears.
"Is... is that what you want?" Eddie feels his heart pounding in his chest, aching inside. "I came all this wa-"
"Please, just leave me alone." You sigh, your voice cracking a bit as you do.
"I... okay. It was uh... it was good seeing your again, Y/n." Eddie quickly stands up from the table and heads towards the door, waving to your friend and before he could take another breath he was outside, tears beginning to form in his eyes. Of course you didn't want to see him. God this was so stupid. You hate him. Is all that is running through his head as he passes your other friends on the street as he heads back to the bus.
Your friends try to talk to him but it's as if he doesn't even see them. They quickly run to the cafe to find Liv consoling you as you cry into her arms.
"What happen?!" You friend Zane questions as they all join you and Liv. You couldn't bring yourself to stop crying.
Liv tries to explain everything you told her as soon as Eddie left. The phone number, the tattoo, the fears that rose in your chest, and the horrible fact that Eddie simply used you.
"What?! That's not it!" You look up to meet Zane's gaze with fury in your eyes.
"Don't-"
"Shut up!" Zane growls at you. "He said you gave him the wrong number."
You look at Zane with sad eyes and shake your head. "No I didn't." You scoff but then you quickly think about your hand writing and how everyone always tells you that your sevens look like ones.
"That's why he convinced his managers to bring the band back here. He wanted to find you. And as for the tattoo... i just think he's a metal rockstar in love. Sounds like something his type would do." He looks to the others and they all nod. "He came back trying to find you. Once we hunted him down he immediately wanted to see you, we sent him here. On our way back we were surprised to see him walking back." Zane speaks in such a rush it's almost hard for you to keep up.
"What... he came back for... for me?"
"Yes!" Zane sighs. "He looked so depressed when we passed him, he didn't even notice us."
"I'm pretty sure he was crying." Your other friend pipes up.
You feel your stomach drop. Why would Eddie come back for you unless he actually liked you. This all seemed so crazy. You guys met once and already he seemed to like you? It felt unreal. He was famous... why would he like you?
"I gotta go." You mumble as you wipe your nose, making it to your feet.
"What are you gonna do?" Liv whispers softly as you grab your jacket from the chair.
"Go find him. Or try to."
"You better hurry, his band is leaving tonight, they have a show in Indiana tomorrow." Zane frowns.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Your feet ached as they pounded against the dark abyss of pavement. Your breath is ragged as you sprint back to the venue. Praying, begging, pleading that the bus will still be pulled around back. You could feel all of your senses going into overdrive as memories from your night with Eddie encourage you to keep going even though your shins felt as if they could snap in half. Just as you see the venue come into view you watch the bus begin to pull out of the back lot.
No.
You gather all your energy as you push the last bit but it's not enough. The bus turns towards your and starts driving closer and closer and before you can think of a way to stop it, it's driving past you.
No.
This isn't happening. You aren't missing him. You can't. You watch as the bus drives up to a stop light you just passed. The light red. You sigh, your lungs burn, and you question if you have the strength in you to run back.
Yes.
You sprint back to the light and basically throw yourself into the crosswalk before the bus just as they light turns green.
Eddie and the band jerk forward as they converse about what happened in the cafe. The band has been so hopeful for Eddie. They had never seen him so excited in his life, not even their first night on stage got him that rilled up. All he wanted to do was see you again.
"I'm sorry man... maybe it's-" Gareth doesn't even try to finish his sentence, he knew Eddie wouldn't find comfort in it. "I'm sorry."
Jeff is about to speak up with suddenly their driver is shouting, window rolled down as he does so. "Get out of the fucking road!"
Eddie stays slumped in his seat as the rest of the band looks towards the front of the bus. Eddie can't get your face out of his head. He knew you would be hurt that he couldn't call you but he tried, over and over and over again, and nothing. Always some pizza place. His heart begins to ache again until he hears a female voice arguing with their driver.
"I have to see him!"
"Get out of the street you crazy bitch!"
"I have to see him! He needs to know!" You stare down the bus driver, glaring as you stand your ground in the middle of the street. "Just let Eddie know! Please!"
"Move your ass!" The bus driver shouts before you watch him duck his head back into the bus instead of out his window.
You jump slightly when you see the bus door open. You feel your stomach erupt into butterflies, nervous or excited your couldn't tell.
Eddie steps out on the street shutting the bus door as the band all stare out the front window with the driver. He stares at you as you stand in the middle of the street gasping for air. He steps towards you but hesitates, why were you here? Why?
You don't falter for a moment longer. Tears stream down your face as you launch yourself towards Eddie. He watches as you fling yourself into his arms and he can't help but wrap them around you.
You squeeze him tightly before pulling back only enough to connect your lips with his. He winces as he melts into you. God, he hoped this would never end. You push your tongue into his mouth and he whimpers, wrapping his arms tighter around your waist as your hands find his hair. Memories of your last time together surface in both of you. Eddie groans as you tug at his hair until suddenly you pull back. Eddie chases your lips and your giggle softly.
You press your forehead to his and smile softly as your eyes stay glued to his. "My sevens look like ones." You huff needing to catch your breath even more now.
Eddie squints a little confused until it seems to suddenly click. He sighs. "I'm so sorry. I tried to-"
"It's okay. I'm sorry I freaked out on you back there I just thought... I thought you used me. I-"
"I would never do that." Eddie's fingers dig into your hips, nervous that you'll pull away but all you do is nod.
"I know. I'm sorry. I saw the tattoo and I just thought that... I thought it was some sort of trophy or... something" You sigh, almost ashamed that you would think that.
"Oh... no-no-no. I just... I never wanted to forget that night, or you." He smiles down at you and you feel all your doubts fade away.
You are about to say something else but Jeff opens the bus door cause both of you to jump.
"Eddie... I'm sorry but we really gotta go. The show-"
"Right. Right." Eddie looks from Jeff back to you. "I... fuck. I gotta go."
"I know." You sigh softly before looking down to your feet, trying to calm the sadness in your chest. "I wish we had more time... or that I didn't waste it with a lot of running." You force an airy laugh.
Eddie tucks his fingers under your chin and smiles. He lifts your gaze to his. "I'll be back. At the end of my tour I'll be back for you." He groans slightly. "Kiss me. Please."
You don't waste a second before connecting your lips with his once more. He shivers in your grasp and tries to pull you closer as if you aren't already pressed against his chest. He melts into you again and you can feel him and yourself getting lost in the moment again. You pull away, your chest heaving with desire. "Eds. You gotta go."
He groans and closes his eyes. "Right right." He quickly looks to the bus and sighs. "Right." You watch his face fall into a frown.
"You'll be back. So... I'll be waiting." You smile softly. "Sounds crazy but... that's what I'm gonna do." Before you can say anything else Eddie release you and runs to the bus. You standing there questioning if that was his goodbye until he emerges once more.
"Here write you number again." He sighs handing you eyeliner pencil.
You giggle as you begin. You write it out clear enough for a baby to read. "Okay."
"787-908-2341" Eddie says out loud and you nod. "Good. I'll call you tomorrow, I promise." He quickly presses a kiss to your lips before rushing back to the bus. You step onto the sidewalk and watch as they leave.
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Eddie kept his promise. He called you the very next day and you talked until he has to get ready for his show. It was the most amazing time of you life.
For the next few months this is how it went. Eddie called you everyday to either say hi quickly or talk with you. It was lovely truly. Until the final month of his tour. His contact with you at first dropped to just saying quick hellos everyday. Then twice a week. Then once a week. Then nothing. You heart felt as if it was breaking into a thousand little pieces.
It is the final day of Eddie’s tour and you wonder if he’ll ever talk to you again. You yawn as you flip through the channels on your tv. Suddenly a celebrity channel flashes Corroded Coffin across the screen. You feel stupid but you blush. They zoom in on Eddie and suddenly a girl flashes across screen. Miss Indiana. Chrissy Cunningham. You quickly turn up the volume.
“This is truly a power couple we never would have imagined. The master of metal and miss Indiana. The rocker and the sweetheart. Yet the couple was spotted all throughout this month and rumor is that they are officially dating behind the scenes of it all.”
“That would make sense John. No wonder Chrissy shows up in all the cities Corroded Coffin has a concert in! She’s following her lover!”
You quickly turn the tv off and sit up. No way. After months this is why he just stops contacting you? He says he’ll be back for you but instead meets miss perfect on the road?
You sigh and suddenly you realize tears are dripping down your cheeks. You hear the phone ring and you quickly wipe your face. You walk over and pull it off the hook.
“Hello?” You croak and quickly clear your throat.
“I’m guessing you saw?” Liv. You nod as if she can see. You hum softly.
“I’m sorry. I was watching with Caleb and… god I’m sorry.” There is a beeping and you pull back.
“Hold on someone else is calling.” You sigh. And liv quickly says she’ll call you later today. You hang up and answer the phone again.
“Hello?”
“Y/n.” Eddie.
“Goodbye.” You sigh but Eddie’s pleas wretch your heart.
“Please wait. I’m sorry I didn’t call you lately. I’ve just been so busy. And I know that’s not really an excuse but-“
“Eddie why didn’t you just tell me?” You sigh wondering if he’ll just fess up to it all.
“What are you-“
“Eds! Have you seen the new?!” A female voice comes from over the phone and you feel your heart plummet to your toes.
“What? Chrissy. I’m on the phone I-“
“Well turn on the tv! Look!”
You hear similar news to what you just saw on the tv from over the phone.
“I… fuck.” Eddie mumbles and you feel as if you may cry. “Fuck fuck fuck. I, love, I gotta go. Fuck.” The dial tone fills your ears.
“Well. I suppose that’s that.” You sigh sadly.
─────── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ──────
Alright. That’s what I got for now. Part three is mostly written just gotta finish it up. Hope y’all can understand and bare with me.
Taglist - @iwillbiteabitch @and-claudia @ruinedbythehobbit @luvmybbies @wannabeyousobad @llodinsonll @tlclick73 @i-love-ptv @mischiefmanagers @tvserie-s-world @magnificantmermaid@brieho3 @saramelaniemoon @eddiemunsonsgurlfriend @sidthedollface2 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @saayanaaa @mylovelycrazyworld
23 notes · View notes
russellius · 1 year
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GQ: George Russell: F1's Mr Consistent is focusing on all the positives
With four races left in the season, the British F1 driver is on course to finish fourth in his first year driving for Mercedes – but make no mistake, his goal is to win multiple world championships
By Mike Christensen 23 October 2022
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It’s early September and George Russell is in peak chill out mode. He’s taking full advantage of an unexpected break in the F1 calendar to hang out with his family and loved ones at home in north Norfolk, where he was born and bred. Today, though, he’s down in London for a photo shoot with Belstaff. When I mention my grandparents used to live in Kings Lynn, he rises slightly from his chair and his eyes light up.
“My grandparents had a shop in Wisbech called Else Discounts,” he says proudly, hoping I might know it. “Their surname was Else, so their slogan was ‘Who else, but Else?’ It was a bit cheesy, but I liked it.”
It’s clear that family is, and always will be, extremely important to Russell. He recently posted a photo of his parents, who were visiting the Mercedes AMG HQ for the first time. “They have been a huge part of my journey from the very beginning,” he wrote, adding that his career to date has been “a proper family effort along the way”. When Russell first started go-karting at a young age his father, Steve, would act as his mechanic while his mother, Alison, used to record all of Russell’s setups and lap times in a green notepad.
“I always try to represent myself in the best light possible,” he says, “and the people who I represent as well – Mercedes and all the team partners but also my family, my girlfriend, and my friends.”
With four races of the 2022 season left, there’s no doubt the season hasn’t panned out as many people expected for Mercedes but Russell’s feeling good about his debut after three years at the back of the grid with Williams. “I’m really enjoying being part of Mercedes, seeing how they operate as a team. They're the best in the business so it's been a learning process for me,” he says confidently.
(...) Here’s how life in the fast lane has been for the man himself.
How would you sum up this season so far for you? For a team of Mercedes' calibre, we have underperformed substantially this season but I can see there's light at the end of the tunnel. Moments like this either make or break a team. Either you fall apart because there's so much pressure, emotions are high, and maybe you’re thinking irrationally about a number of the issues. Or you grow stronger together. I'm really feeling that, seeing how the team is coming together, going about the issues we've had almost scientifically, as you would and should in a Formula 1 team, and being rational about every single issue rather than making decisions in the heat of the moment.
Being your first in a Mercedes seat, what was your aim for 2022? I went into the season with a very open mind, because I appreciated and recognised it as a totally new era and there were no guarantees that we would get it right. Obviously I've come here to win races, and I'm not satisfied with just finishing in the top five every single race. But again, I've got to be rational about this. And I can't be disappointed with my results this year, because the results on almost every single occasion have been optimised. This is my fourth season in F1, I worked so hard to get here and I feel ready to fight for victories and World Championships. I'm here for the long haul with this team, and I believe that this is the best place to be to give myself the best chance of World Championships if I look at it over the next five-year period.
Are you satisfied with your performances? It's always that half-glass full, half-glass empty analogy. I saw this really nice artwork of two people sitting on a bus on an ocean drive. One guy was looking out onto the sea, and the sun was shining, and he had a big smile on his face. And the other guy on the same bus, on same journey, was looking the other way out into a cliff wall. And he had no view and it was dark and shaded. That really struck me and it's so true, so many people can be on the same journey, but you've got to take all of the positives from that journey and look at the sunshine rather than looking in the shade. That's what I'm trying to do this year, I'm looking at the sunshine. I'm looking at how we've always improved on a Sunday, how the results have, generally speaking, been the best possible result we could have achieved with the car we've got. Rather than thinking, "Oh, we should be winning because we're in Mercedes."
What’s the aim for the last remaining races? If we won a race this season, we can walk away feeling that we've been on a difficult journey, but one that we've recovered really well. As a team, we want to finish ahead of Ferrari in the team championship. That would be a good boost for us over the off season and it would be a difficult pill for Ferrari to swallow, considering that they had the fastest car on the grid at the start of the season. And for us to take that momentum into 2023, psychologically that would be quite an important result for us.
What lessons has Formula 1 taught you? When I look at my career path compared to other people's I feel like sometimes if you have too much success when you're younger and don't experience those really challenging moments where you need to look in the mirror and question yourself ‘How am I going to improve?’ it hurts you later down the line. I had two standout years in my junior formulas where they were really, really challenging for me. I didn't perform and I wasn't fighting for the championship and that was difficult for me, but it was a moment that probably really helped me progress as a person.
How so? When I was 16, I was a little bit naive and arrogant. If I wasn’t winning, I’d be like ‘Well, it can't be me why I'm not performing, it must be something else.’ There were other reasons why I wasn't performing, but I was also a big factor of why we weren't getting those results. Realising that really helped me to improve as a person and improve as a driver. Equally now in F1, three years on the back of a grid with Williams. These difficult moments, a couple of mistakes along the way, they make me stronger.
Do you have any pre-race rituals? Before the race, a big part for me is taking 10 minutes alone in my room to get away from all the craziness that's outside with 150,000 fans in the grandstand, loads of people in the paddock, all of our sponsors and guests within our team. It's my quiet space but it's less to try and get in the zone, and more to let my mind and body relax, because it's sometimes a bit overwhelming with everything that’s going on. Often on a Sunday we do the driver's parade in front of the fans. Your heart is pumping because you feel the energy from the crowds, and you're psyched up before you get in the car. Sometimes that plays against you because driving a car, when you do these incredible laps you need to be relaxed and you've got to flow between the corners so the harder you try the worse it is. For me, jumping into a car when I'm all hyped up and my heart is racing, is not what I need to perform. I almost need the opposite. I need to be calm, I need to be relaxed. And so, just taking 10 minutes is good.
What’s the toughest thing about being a Formula 1 driver? I'm so passionate and motivated to perform, win, and be a World Champion. But the sport is tolling. You've got the physical aspect and the psychological aspect is tolling. You have all those emotions of the race weekend, the success, the highs, the lows. The travel is tolling on the body. It's not a healthy lifestyle. And I'm not talking just for drivers but for everybody in the sport. We're going to 22 different countries in a year, staying in 22 different hotels, eating 22 different types of food, and 10 different time zones. That lack of routine is not good for anyone. So I sit here today and say, ‘I think I can go until I'm 40’ but maybe in five years time I'll say something else.
How do you deal with everything else that comes with the job? So many things are expected of athletes these days that I think people forget we are just human. I'm a racing driver, not an activist, not a politician – I'm not this and I'm not that. You're expected to have the right view and opinion on everything and for me, I'm 24 years old, and that's probably one of the hardest parts of the job. The driving part is easy because I'm a racing driver so once I've got that helmet on, I'm in my happy place.
Some big names will be leaving the sport at the end of the year. How do you feel about that? [Sebastian] Vettel retiring, he’s one of the biggest names in sport, and Daniel Ricciardo probably being out of a drive next year, are not things we really contemplate. I've got a huge amount of respect for those two and obviously the sport will miss them dearly, but it's like that in any sport industry, people come, people go, and the sport will live on. That's just reality.
Another thing attached to the sport is looking the part. Is style important to you? I want to dress well. And I want to look classy and elegant. Kind of like David Beckham in that regard. Or Federer, someone who has always dressed well. He's smart.
Seems like you’ve found yourself a good match then, in Belstaff? Being British and patriotic, Belstaff is the perfect brand for me to be associated with. It’s very classy, elegant, and casual as well. It's got a huge heritage and history with motor sport and motoring, so it ticks all the boxes.
Would you say style transcends trends? I was talking about first impressions with somebody, and they say that if you're going to get a job, they know within the first five seconds if they're going to hire you or not. Within the first five seconds walking through a door, probably half of that is you haven't even opened your mouth yet. People, rightly or wrongly, judge characters based on how they dress. So for me, I always want to have the right impression, good impression.
Were you wearing racing overalls when you had your interview with Toto Wolff? Toto always says I was wearing a suit, which is pushing it a little bit. I had you a shirt on and nice trousers, nice shoes. That was the biggest interview of my career and I went in thinking, ‘This can totally change my destiny’ so I wasn’t going to walk in with my trackies and a hoodie on.
You drive fast cars for a living but what about stylish old cars? I would love to own a vintage car, for sure. I'm not quite at that stage of my career yet, to be looking at having multiple cars as such. But I actually had an event in Monaco earlier this year. And there were three Mercedes SL300s from the ’50s and ’60s. Incredibly elegant cars, and I thought ‘definitely one day’. That’s the dream to own one of those classic convertibles, roof down, driving along the coast.
27 notes · View notes
ruppcake · 1 year
Note
Hi I'm back again. But this time I'd like to request some angst that eventually leads to fluff and a comforting moment with Mogens. Cause like that guy definitely has some sort of past trauma and I just want to comfort him. I've had this idea that Mogens deserves to get a gift as well. Cause like he never got one in the movie, my man deserves some love too! I hope this is more informative than my last ask!
Also take your time, I am so okay with having to wait. Writing takes time ^-^ 💗
Thanks again!
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{Heyyyyyyy. I’m sorry for taking a while again I’ve had really bad writers block for the past few days! 😅 thank you for the request and hope you like it!}
Tw!: mentions of @!coho!, tr@um@, @bu$€, and d€@th also involves some language (if triggered by any of these, please don’t read. i don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable 🫂) [YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED]
{Note: (y/n) = your name}
Mogens angst/comfort one-shot
Mogens opens the front door to the nice, cozy cabin that you and him shared. He had a rough day today dealing with some very rude passengers on his boat and not getting the amount of money he was suppose to get. Mogens sighed seeing you were not in the house at the moment. He took off his coat and hat hanging them up on hooks by the door. As he was walking towards the kitchen, he let his mind wonder a bit into places he shouldn’t let it wander to. Things from his past flooding his mind. He stood still in the middle of the kitchen floor having unpleasant memories hauntingly all come back to him. Mogens started to tremble, his chest getting tight and tears welling up in his eyes.
He needed to do something to get rid of the thoughts and feelings. He reached into a near cabinet and took out a bottle of moonshine. Once opened, Mogens started chugging it hoping it would help him forget everything for now. He slid to the ground trembling from where he was sitting. You finally came back home opening the door to see that Mogens was not sitting on the couch waiting for you. You quickly assumed he went to bed or he was not home yet until you heard shaky breathing coming from the kitchen. Immediately, you rushed over to find Mogens actually on the ground with a bottle of moonshine in hand struggling to control his breathing. “Mogens??? Dear, what happened??? Are you alright?!” you kneeled down next to him making him look at you.
Mogens looked into your eyes with his tear filled ones. The eye contact with you made tears finally spill out of his eyes. “Darling…? I…Im alright. Just—“ Before he could finish you put a hand on his cheek. “No. Something is wrong and I need you to open up about it. You’re hurting yourself by keeping everything bottled up. I’ve noticed this for a while now so please talk about it to me” Mogens looked at you before sighing. “Okie okie. I’ll tell you about it.” You nodded before getting up, he gets up with you and drag him to the couch in the living room. “Sit.” Mogens listens sitting down instantly. You sit next to him giving him an ‘talk, im listening’ look. He sighs wiping his eyes. “Heh. where to begin.” He sat back a bit as you scooted closer to him. “The reason you saw me the way I was on the floor was because something today reminded me of certain moments from my past which caused me to feel and remember things I should be forgetting about. Then also cause me to try and drink everything away.”
You grabbed his arm softly. “Mogens. You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to always be tough about everything. You can tell me what’s bothering you, love. You’re not alone anymore. I’m here for you and always will so please tell me what happened.” Mogens looked into your eyes then put his hand over yours. “Alright.” He takes a deep breath before starting. “Today while I was working I saw a mother and her child spending time together at one of the shops I had to stop at to drop off some deliveries. It reminded me of how I was with my mother before she passed. My mother worked as a tailor. Making clothes and fixing them up but she also ran a food stand for people who couldn’t afford any. She taught me to cook and sew. While she was doing that my father was a ferryman and the boat that I have use to belong to him. He was always working and when he was not he would try to spend some time with us. As I got older he taught me how to work on the boat so one day I could take over. Everything was good until my mother got really sick and sadly passed. My father didn’t take it so well. He stopped working, became a drunk and would always blame me for every bad thing that ever happened. I had to take over as the new ferryman since my father didn’t want to work anymore and someone needed to be making money. He would also occasionally beat me too. I still have some of the scars he gave me. Once I had enough money, I left my home town and moved here so I could finally get away from it all. Ever since then I’ve been alone. Don’t know if the bastard is still alive or drank himself into a grave.” Mogens wiped his eyes getting a little shaky. You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and hugged him tightly. “I didn’t know you went through all that and I’m sorry you did, dear” He hugged back kissing the top of your head.
“Thank you for opening up to me about all this. Just letting you know I love you and will make sure nothing like that will ever happen to you.” He smiled as you ran your hands through his hair. “Well that’s not all. I also had a rough day at work. Had to deal with some unpleasant people as usual but they were more nasty today which also led to me not getting paid as much as I should’ve gotten for taking those bastards to where they were heading.” You clenched your fists in irritation. “How dare they do that to you?! That’s awful!” “People can be like that, darling.” He chuckled looking around until his eye caught a green bag sitting on a chair. “What’s that?” You look over at what he was looking at. “Oh! I forgot I brought something home for you!” You got up walking over to go grab it.
Mogens sat up looking at you as you came back with it giving it to him. “It’s a present for you since we’ve been together for a little while now I wanted to give you something to show how much you mean to me.” He looks at the bag hesitantly opening it to find a new grey sweater, a pair of black gloves and a scarf to match the gloves. “Wow….It’s been a while since anyone has given me a gift.” Mogens looks at you smiling. “Thank you, (y/n) my love.” You smile back at him. “You’re welcome, my dear Mogens.” He put the gifts down on the table before pulling you into an embrace and leaning back so you were more on top of him. You cuddled him nuzzling into his neck. He smiled holding you tight. You both stayed like that for a while until you both decided to go upstairs for bed.
Ahhhhhh I hope you like it! Sorry it took me a while! Thank you for the request and being patient with me! ☺️🫂
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bovine-providence · 2 years
Text
Imaginary Friend
Illuso x Reader
Just a short piece about a toxic relationship to break out of writer’s block! It’s not my best work, but eh, it’s something. I’m happy to be writing again. Also, the title comes from “Imaginary Friend” by Night Club; great inspiration for the piece.
[CWs: toxic relationship, drug use, nsfw mention]
You were scrolling through your social media feed on your phone when it dinged with a text, then again.
>Hey
>You up?
It’s Illuso. ‘Probably wants a booty call,’ you figured. You had been home an hour since leaving the club, but you were still dressed up, having gotten distracted by your phone. You were quick to reply.
[Y/N]
>Yeah, just chillin
>What’s up?
[Illuso]
>Wanna chill here?
>I got the fun stuff
You perked up at that. You *had* been thinking of going to bed, but an opportunity to have some of Illuso’s stash was too good to pass up. He always had the best ecstasy.
[Y/N]
>Sure, see you soon
>>>>
Shortly after your arrival at Illuso’s apartment, he pulled out the ecstasy. Picking out an orange one with an alien head, you were quick to swallow. Illuso’s was a purple pill with a smiley face.
Not long after that, you found yourself being pounded from behind, his hand in your hair as he spat abuses at you. You didn’t care; by then, the feeling of euphoria from the drugs had washed over, allowing his words to slide past your consciousness.
It’s after he’s finished inside and was cleaning himself up that you started to think clearly again.
“Hey,” you started. He grunted in response from his tiny bathroom. “Hypothetically, if I got pregnant, what would you do?”
“Are you pregnant?” He asked; you could hear the sneer in his voice.
You shifted on the bed, beginning to feel the numbness that always followed these encounters.
“No. I’m on birth control. But I mean, you don’t use condoms, so I figured maybe we should talk about it?”
He appeared from the bathroom then, annoyed.
“If you’re on birth control and you’re not pregnant, then it’s a non-issue. And you knew from the start I don’t use condoms,” he stated. As you stared up at him, he rolled his eyes. “It’s a little stupid to bring these concerns up now, don’t you think?”
You sighed, looking away. “I guess you’re right…”
“I *am* right,” he muttered as he walked back towards the bathroom. Over his shoulder, he added, “anyways, you know where the door is. If you need to clean up before you leave, there’s towels in the closet.”
As you dutifully grabbed a towel from the closet to wipe yourself off, you sighed. Nights with Illuso always ran their course this way. Be lured over with sex and drugs, get the daylights fucked out of you, and be kicked out without a second thought. The only reason you kept coming back was the drugged sex, honestly.
If any of your friends told you about someone like him, you’d tell them to dump him. But it isn’t so easy when it happens to you, is it? He doesn’t treat you well, so why do you stay?
Because he makes you feel desired, at least for a little bit. He appeals to your self-destructive side. You can be the worst of yourself and he’ll be there to add fuel to the fire.
It isn’t healthy, but you don’t care. At least it’s something in your shitty life, with a shitty job and shitty pastimes.
You get dressed and check your makeup in your pocket mirror. It’s ruined, unsurprisingly. At least you had the forethought to bring makeup wipes with you this time.
By the time you leave Illuso’s apartment, it’s 4am. Not the latest you’ve been out because of him, so that’s a tiny win in your book.
The walk to the bus stop is lonely and quiet, but familiar. Arriving at the stop, you’re grateful that it’s only you and a lilac-haired man seated at the other end of the bench. He’s typing furiously at his laptop, but you hardly pay attention to him, being wrapped up in your thoughts.
You don’t notice when he turns to you and his eyes widen. At least, not until he speaks.
“Are you well? And do you have an ID on you…?”
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holly-louisexox · 1 year
Text
Ribcage X Andy Biersack- Part 3
Masterlist
"There's one thing you should know about me Delia Vincent, I don't date. Got no heart to break and emptiness is safe, keep it that way."
He was adamant in his choices...
...But then things changed.
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Not my Gif
"Damn I did not expect you to be a whiskey girl with all due respect." Jinxx laughs as Jake pours out a drink for Delia.
"I used to be a big rum drinker, but during my time at university I think I drank too much of it, and now I can't even look at the stuff without feeling slightly ill." Delia laughs alongside Jinxx whilst slightly cringing at the memories of getting absolutely fucked at university. "I guess whiskey is the next best thing."
"So you said you studied in Italy? That's quite a distance." Jake comments handing Delia the whiskey and coke he had just poured for her.
"Yeah, well I'm actually half Italian. My dad was born and raised there before moving to the States and he met my mum so stayed here. I found a really good production and tech course there so thought it would be fun to go back to my family roots for a few years, try to pick up some of my inheritance a little bit." Delia tells "Just please don't ask me to speak any Italian because it's atrocious, even having lived there for 5 years."
"Can't be anymore atrocious than the little mishap tonight." Andy explains as a snide remark as he re-enters- the girl he was all up close and personal with mere moments ago no longer in sight.
"Andy, it was one tiny mic malfunction which I got sorted straight away. I didn't mean to cause any issues and I'm sorry if I did." Delia was determined to stay calm, she was not about to lose her temper with this man on the first night- even if he was already getting under her skin.
"Don't you fucking Andy me! You don't know the first thing about me so don't start pretending to be all chummy and apologise for fucking up your job." Andy fumes staring her down.
"You know what? I'm trying to be nice to you and act civil simply for the fact that I'll be working with you for the next few weeks. Is it really so hard for you to show a little bit of respect towards me?" Delia stands up to defend herself; not that standing up did much to her benefit due to the sheer height difference between herself and the arrogant singer. Trying to remain professional with this guy surely was difficult when he was stood there looking like he could throw a punch at any given moment, Delia would be damned if she were to stand there any take any abuse from him.
"You want respect? Do your fucking job and stay the hell out of my way. If you want to bond and be all chummy with anyone else then fine but do it when I'm not around cause I'm not interested." Andy continues to spit; the rest of the band just sitting there awkwardly not sure if they should break the two up or remain silent.
"Fine, have it your way." Delia shrugs before turning her attention to the rest of the band "Sorry guys, I'll see you all later."
"Bye." Lonny waves awkwardly whilst the rest of the band kind of just send a smile her way trying to ignore the tension in the room.
"Don't forget to shut the door on your way out." Andy laughs dryly, now he's just purposely being annoying.
"Screw you." Delia states whilst rolling her eyes before heading towards the door of the band's tour bus.
"No thanks, you're actually not my type." Andy continues to laugh as Delia just flips him a middle finger before existing- she did indeed shut the door behind her too just to keep the diva happy.
"Dude, that was cold even for you." Lonny shakes his head at his bandmate after Delia has left.
"We've worked too hard to let some girl fuck this up for us, I've worked too hard to let some girl fuck me up again." Andy breaks his guard ever so slightly, even in front of he band he usually refrains from breaking; he can't afford the walls he built to crumble down.
"Andy, I know things were hard but it's been 2 years, you need to move on from J-" Lonny begins
"Don't finish that, don't say her name please." Andy cuts him off not wanting to hear the name of the woman who ruined him.
"Andy in the nicest way possible, you've been a dick ever since. It was understandable to begin with but now it's just uncalled for, Delia seems lovely too, would it really be that hard to just be nice or at least civil towards her." CC continues the questioning which makes Andy sigh.
"Look, it's just easier, no feelings means no more getting hurt." Andy explains as he pours himself a straight whiskey before taking a sip.
"One of these days though you're going to catch feelings, especially if you keep sleeping around with women you meet." CC states.
"Or an STD." Jinxx mutters under his breath.
"Dude." Jake hits Jinxx around the head "uncalled for."
"Just stating facts." Jinxx shrugs trying not to laugh whilst Andy sends him a dirty look.
"Look Andy, can you just at least try to get on with Delia? At least for the sake of us so it's less awkward. Plus Shevy is joining us again tomorrow, surely you're not going to be a prick to her too." Jake states making Andy sigh.
"Ah shit yeah, At least we won't be running around in shit make up again aye?" Andy laughs trying to deter from the conversation at hand. "I suppose I'll try to be nice. I'm not making any promises though."
---------------------
One thing that Delia was happy about was the fact that she had a separate bus to the band. She could not imagine having to share a bus with the guys, even before meeting them (more specifically Andy) she was praying she would not have to share with them. Yes Delia had her silly little relationships in the past and little flings but believe it or not she still sometimes felt awkward around guys. All these years her career has been more important to her than boys, whilst her friends were settling down with a family and a stable job, she was prepared to take the risk of instability to do what she loved; so far it was paying off.
Shaking the thoughts away, Delia decides that it would just be best to call it a night. The thought of sleeping in a moving bus was definitely an odd concept to her considering she had never even fallen asleep in a moving car or even on a plane before; but there's always a first for everything. At least joining the crew as of tomorrow will be another female, that is for sure something Delia was looking forward to, having some girl talk time backstage before shows would likely be helpful. Plus it would just be nice to actually have someone join her this in cramped little bus, potentially make it more cosy. 
Surely no one could be more infuriating than Andy Biersack. 
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cuttherope · 1 year
Text
How Impressive
Summary: First time meeting the android Connor. Things are starting to work in your favor.
Relationship: Connor{Detroit: Become Human} X Reader
Word count: 2000+
Authors note: Hello! This is my very first story written on this platform! I'm not entirely sure how things work yet, so please send me your tips and tricks and notes about the story! Feel free to DM any request you might have! Not a lot happens in this chapter of the story, but I will be adding more chapters and things will only go up from there. Thank you for reading this <333
Chapter 1
It was a normal day at the office. I had gone through my regular routine that morning: waking up at 7:00 am sharp, brushing my teeth, putting on my most comfortable clothes and making my way over to the bus station that would then take me toward the police station downtown. I made my way to my tidy desk, which pined itself against the front of Hank’s. I placed your bag next to my chair, and sat down in a huff, finally clocking in for work. There was so much paperwork and files to go through I didn't even know where to begin. The first task I could think of  doing was to prepare my body for the 9 hour work day ahead of me and get myself a nice, hot cup of coffee. Slowly getting back up from my chair, I made my  way over to the corner of the office. Seeing as there were blueberry muffins on the counter next to the coffee machine. I picked one up and ate piece after piece of it, my eyes fixed on the motion of breaking off a bit and placing it in my mouth .I was pretty much finished eating the muffin once my coffee cup had filled to the brim and was almost spilling over.  
“Geez slow down, it's not gonna run away from you.”  I moved my eyes up from the muffin in my hand, not stopping the motion. My whole body had a horrible visceral reaction to the tall figure standing in front of me. Rolling my eyes, I ignore the comment, and reach over to the coffee machine, grabbing the cup and placing one foot in front of the other in an attempt to avoid the whole situation.
“A kid like you shouldn't be drinking coffee ya know. You should wait until you’ve finished growing.” The man laughed sarcastically at his own joke, like it was the most hilarious thing he or anyone had ever said. I stopped in my tracks and hunched my back, sighing loudly into the motion. 
“Good morning Gavin…” The words left my mouth involuntarily. The sentence had become such a routine that it was practically muscle memory by now.
“Aw Good morning to you too sweetheart! Let's see that bright smile!” He was once again sarcastic in his voice. Making fun of me to my face, without any thought about it at all. He then walked towards the coffee machine, making himself a drink, the same as I had done. As I made my way towards the exit of the lounge room another man had walked in. His stature was much bigger than that of Gavin's, but much less intimidating. You could just tell this man had a pure heart. My eyes glanced down to his jacket, on its right read ‘RK800’. Of course, it's another one of those androids, but I don't recognize the model number, it must be new.
My pace had slowed, I’m not sure whether it was because of the hold this man had on me or just the pure knowledge that Gavin would say something rude in an attempt to rile up the poor thing. Like I had imagined, Gavin stands up from leaning against the coffee table in the break room, making a few smart aleck comments about the bot, before  asking him to bring Gavin another coffee. Geez sometimes Gavin can never let people have a break, he's always got to make their lives hard. The android did as told and brought Gavin a cup of coffee, only for Gavin to shove the cup out of his face, spilling the coffee all over my shirt and pants. 
“Look what you did? And you're supposed to be the most intelligent being out there? Do me a favor… stay out of my way.” Gavin walked out of the room, without eye contact and the  confident posture of a high school bully. I made my way over to the android, grabbing some paper towel for the coffee that had spilled on him also. 
“You can’t give in to Gavin. He's like that to everyone. Trust me, the best thing for you to do is avoid him.” I offered a few of the napkins to the android. He carefully took them from my hand, and carefully patted his suit of any spots that had been affected by the spill. He didn't say anything, only making slight eye shifts towards me here and there. 
“I'm detective l/n. I work alongside Lieutenant Anderson. I’m not sure we’ve met yet.” I switch the coffee into my left hand in order to free my right, extending it for a handshake. 
“Hello, I'm Connor, the android sent my CyberLife. You are correct, we have yet to meet, I don't recognize your face.” The android's voice was monotone, but calming. It had a rich and smooth tone to it, and unlike the other artificial sounding android voices, his just sounded real, and intimate, like what he said actually had meaning to him, and weren’t just words. 
“ I don't recognize your model number.”
“I'm a prototype, I was created to assist police personnel in investigations involving deviant androids.” He was so blunt, so straight to the point. I didn't mind it. 
“Deviants? I’ve heard about them a few times. I've tried to convince Hank to let me help with the investigation, but every time he shuts me down. I find the whole thing quite intriguing.” Connor didn't respond, only looking down at my shirt, then looking back up to meet my eyes. I was so interested in this android that by the time I had noticed that I forgot to clean my shirt of the spilled coffee, it had already started to dry. 
“ I need to put my jacket back on, it's not professional to be walking around the station with a giant coffee stain on my shirt. Walk with me?”  He nodded in agreement, waiting for me to lead the way back to my desk. Once we arrived, I slipped on the jacket and zipped it up, catching a glance from Hank who had finally showed up for work. 
“Nice to see you Hank. You know this has been the earliest you've shown up this month. How impressive!” I was a bit frustrated, seeing that I was stuck with all the boring work back in the office, while Hank was out on the field getting to do the exciting part. Yet I was the one who actually put in the required effort for the job. 
“Nice coffee stain. How impressive.” I rolled my eyes, fulling zipping my jacket. He was blunt, but that's why we got along. He could deal with my attitude and I could deal with his sarcastic tone. 
“I see you've met the android. You better get acquainted soon, since you'll be working in close proximity to one another.” I raise one of my eyebrows, questioning the older man's statement.
“Oh?” I asked, puzzling. 
“Well, seeing as we’re now all working together, and there's only, let's see here… two desks. I've voluntold you to share it with the android.” I look over at the android who has his hands resting at his sides, expressionless. 
“How is that supposed to work? There's barely enough room for the both of us over here.” I pleated, not for the fact of sharing, but for the interest of the android. I know I’m not well organized. It's going to be ten times worse now that two people, well one person and one android need to share the small space. Hank leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. His shoulders shrugged and his mouth pursed. There was no protesting the situation, I'll just have to make due. 
“ I'm sorry for being a burden detective, but I am a highly organized android. I promise to not disturb you, or your work. I'm here to help you, not to frustrate you.” That last sentence he said, why did it stick to me like glue? Why was it on repeat in my mind for so long? It was so innocent, but really it made me want for him to frustrate me. For him to talk to me whenever he could, or poke my shoulder whenever he had a question, or loom over me when I was in the middle of viewing a profile. We had only met that day, but there was something so special about him, something I hadn't noticed in other androids. Maybe it was because he was brand new, so was more advanced than the other, more personable. I knew instantly that working beside him each day would be a blessing and a curse. 
I sat down at my desk and began working on the many, many profiles I had to sort through for the case. Slowly Connor had placed one hand on the back of my chair and the other on my desk, very close to my hand. He leaned his body closer to the back of head. 
“ I could do that for you, if you’d like?” His voice was quiet and soft, like an attempt to not be a distraction to either Hank or my work. I nodded slowly after a few seconds, wanting to draw out the closeness of his body to mine for as long as I could. I turned the chair around, and offered him the seat. He took it, and began to scroll through the profiles of deviants androids on the computer screen in front of him. In less than a minute he had gone through the hundreds of profiles that would have taken me hours to complete.
“243 files. First date back nine months. An AX400 is reported to have assaulted a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation.” How impressive this body of wires and metal was. But Hank wasn't interested. Letting out a sigh, and turning back towards his computer. After a few seconds, the android had gotten up from the seat and made his way over to the Lieutenant. But still Hank remained fixated on the work, not wanting to engage himself with the bot.
“I know you didn't ask for this investigation-” Hank interrupted Connor, swearing at him, only for this to result in an even more frustrated response from the android. I had never seen one stand up for themselves. I had always assumed that the wishes of their ‘bosses’ came before the needs of their own. But Connor had a mission, and nothing was going to come between him and the accomplishment of his tasks. It was quite remarkable, and it made me even more excited to work with him, knowing he wasn't just going to be another stick in the mud, like many of the other, human cops in this station.
I watched as his body tensed slightly, seeing a slight clench in his jaw, and twitch in his eyebrow. I watched as his breathing became heavier and his chest puffed, his jacket hugging his figure to show the lines of his chest. He snapped his head to look at me, shifting his eyes between mine and the back of Hank's head, almost in a plea to intervene.  His look alone was enough to intimidate anyone who was caught in it. It commanded attention, it could steal a breath from anyone's lungs, and even though I knew he wasn't frustrated with me, I still felt my body freeze at the tension he admitted.   Before things could escalate further I placed myself between the two men, with my body facing that of Hanks. Raising my voice enough to gain the attention and silence from the both of them.
“Hank, it might be worth it to go check things out. Who knows what we could find. Maybe it'll be useful stuff, and if it isn't, we can always just leave.” Hank's eyes shifted from my own to Connors who was standing behind me. 
“Five minutes. That's it. And if there's nothing interesting, we leave.” A large grimace constructs itself on my face, happy with my convincing excuses. 
“Leave in a few minutes then?” I questioned.
“What? No. You're not coming. You're staying here like I've said before.” Hank had explained, grabbing his jacket from his chair, and putting it on, walking away from me in a huff. Connor followed behind us silently.
“If you let me come, I'll watch over Connor so you wont need to.” The bearded man stopped in his tracks. Taking a minute to think of the proper response to my proposal. He finally answered without turning back around.
“Stay out of the way…and please for the love of god don't touch anything.. Either of you.”
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boowhumps · 5 months
Text
Whumptober 2023
Day 29
(@whumptober)
By - B.W
⚠TW⚠
~ Swearing
~ Mentions of Death
~ Mentions of Suicide
~ Mentions of Abuse
Enjoy!
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆
“I know.. but this is a big deal for you, don’t let me hold you back..” Karyme talks into her phone.
“We’ve been through worse, long distance won’t break us.” She replies after a bit.
“I can visit, and so can you.” She says. “We’ll be fine.”
“Karyme!” Shouts a voice.
Karyme sighs. “Hey, I got to go, my mother’s calling me.. yea.. you know how she gets when I talk to you..”
“I’ll talk to you later, bye.” She says, hanging up the phone.
“Karyme!” Her mom shouts again.
“Coming..” Karyme mumbles, leaving her room.
She walks to the living room, where her mom stands, arms crossed. Immediately the air in the room becomes tense.
Karyme frowns. “What’s going on..?”
Her mom sighs. “That’s what I want you to explain to me.”
Karyme raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean.?”
Her mom makes a face. “I went to the pharmacy to refill my medication.. and they asked how your new medication was going.”
Karyme feels the blood drain from her face. “I-..”
“Care to explain what new medication?” Her mom asks.
Karyme looks away. “It’s for..”
“Well?”
“They’re for.. depression..”
Her mom only frowns. “You’re not depressed, Karyme.”
Karyme makes the same face. “How would you know? You’re never around..”
Her mom narrows her eyes. “Excuse you, but I think I know my daughter.”
“You only know what you want to know..” Karyme mumbles.
“That’s enough, Karyme.” Her mom says coldly. “The medication, hand it over.”
Karyme widens her eyes a bit. “..What.?”
“You heard me.” Her mom replies. “You’re only drugging yourself.”
Karyme frowns. “No.”
“What?”
“I’m 19, and I sorted that medication for myself. You can’t take it.”
“I’m your mother-“
“Only when it’s convenient..”
“That’s enough from you!” her mom shouts. “You need to learn your place!”
“Fuck that!” Karyme shouts back. “Can’t you see? You’re the reason I have to take that medication!”
“You’ve never had a reason to be upset!” Her mother retaliates. “That boy you’ve been with has corrupted you!”
“Don’t you talk bad about him.” Karyme says coldly. “He’s helped me open my eyes-“
“He’s taking you away from us!” Her mom says.
“No! That was what YOU did! When my uncle died, when my ex took advantage of me, when I tried to kill myself, guess what? You weren’t there!” Karyme shouts. “You’ve only ever been here when you want to belittle.. or hurt me..”
There’s a deafening silence as they both stand there.
“Go to your room.” Her mom mumbles. “I don’t want to see your face.”
“Typical.” Karyme mumbles back, heading back to her room.
Once she closes the door, tears begin to sting in her eyes. She wipes them away furiously, and looks at her phone.
The time reads 8 pm. Karyme sighs.
‘I still have time..’ She thinks to herself.
She hears the front door slam closed, and the start of an engine.
This was her chance.
She is quick to pack her valuables, and discard anything of no use. Once she’s finished, she picks up her phone and calls Kaiden.
His voice picks up right away, at it calms Karyme again.
“Hey..” Karyme mumbles, cringing at how hoarse her voice sounds. “No, I’m fine, really..”
“..yeah.. we did..” Karyme replies. “It’s fine, it’s over with..”
She sighs. “What time do you leave again.?” She asks. “Right, 10 pm.. no reason, I just wanted to know..”
“..yeah, I’ll let you finish packing.. I’ll talk to you soon..” She says, hanging up.
She drags her suitcases out the front door, and down the street. She walks until she spots the bus stop. She sighs, deep in thought was she waits.
‘Should I have left a note..?’ She thinks to herself. ‘No.. why would I..?’
She lifts her head up as she sees the bus approach. She sighs, and boards without another thought..
__
It’s dark out, and cold. Karyme keeps walking, checking the time every minute.
She can’t be late..
..what if she just told him.?
No.. there’s no reason to..
She picks up the pace, pulling her jacket closer to her shivering body. She walks until she spots a familiar black car, which is empty.
She turns her head towards the house, which has the door open.
Karyme takes the opportunity to rest, only turning her head when she hears something.
She spots Kaiden, and takes a deep breath.
“..surprise..?” She mumbles.
Kaiden widens his eyes a bit. “Karyme.? What are you doing here.?”
She sighs. “Room for one more.?”
He walks over to her. “What happened.?”
Once he’s close enough, she hugs him, trying to keep it together.
“I want to go with you..” She mumbles.
“But you said-“ He starts.
“Please..” She asks softly.
Kaiden sighs. “Are you sure.? Do your parents know?”
“Yes.. and no.” Karyme replies.
Kaiden frowns. “They’ll report you as missing-“
“I already took care of that.” Karyme says. “..don’t leave me here..”
Kaiden hugs her tight. “Wouldn’t dream of it..”
He lets go of the hug. “Do you have your things?”
Karyme nods, eyeing her bags. They’re quickly loaded in the car and Kaiden sighs.
“Alright..” He says slowly. “..then we’re set, no?”
“I guess so..” Karyme replies.
Kaiden frowns at her. “You need a better jacket, it’s freezing out tonight.”
“I’m fine-“
“You’ll catch a cold.”
“Kaiden..” Karyme groans.
“Here.” He says, taking off his jacket and putting it on her.
Karyme frowns at him. “Now you’ll get cold..”
“I’ll be fine.” He says. “Selyna knows how sick you get when it’s cold.”
”Hypocrite..” Karyme mumbles.
Kaiden smiles a bit. “Just get in the car.”
Karyme gets in the car, sitting silently. When Kaiden gets in, he gives her a weird look.
“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.
Karyme glances at him. “..kinda..”
“We’ll talk about it later.” He says, starting the car.
“Are you going to drive all night.?” Karyme asks.
Kaiden shakes his head. “Only for a bit, we can stop at a hotel for the night.”
Karyme nods, going back to looking out the window.
Kaiden starts to drive away from the familiar town.
Karyme did it.
She really did it.
She’s free.
。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆。・:*:・゚★,。・:*:・゚☆
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spacegaynsfw · 1 year
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In light of your resent self discovery, I present to you an anecdote:
I was on a red eye from NY to FL, coming back home from a vacation. Not only is it night, I also tend to fall asleep in moving vehicles. Both because they give me the tired sleepy or to combat the motion sickness I get from time to time.
I’m fine at LaGuardia (and this was before it was renovated Nad COVID, so this is classic LaG, busted ceiling tiles, poodle sized rats, water damage and all) so even though my aunt tells me I should use the restroom before we board, I ignore her.
Anyway, seats are called, boarding happens, and I’m out before we even reach altitude.
A few things wake me up.
An announcement from the pilot, the ding of an indicator, and the need to pee. It’s not bad, but it’s there.
Now idk if the pressure changes in the sky can effect your sense of needing to go, but the closer we got to ground, the worse it got. Like full on, crossing and uncrossing my legs, wiggling in my seat, biting my lip, anything I could think of to NOT piss myself on this Boeing.
This lead to a secondary problem.
Sort of.
You see, in many people with a uterus, when the bladder expands, it can press against the internal structures of the clitoris, causing arousal.
I am one of those people.
I am also the unfortunate owner of a very leaky tap. My average discharge appears to be equivalent to what most others experience usually during arousal. So you can imagine what it’s like when I actually am horny.
I can and have leaked through my jeans before.
So now, I’m wiggling and desperate, doing everything I can to NOT piss myself, even as it feels like I already sort of did because I’m leaking like I’ve been edging (I mean I technically sort of was now that I think about it) and it’s making the need to go even worse. Like dipping someone’s hand in warm water while they sleep.
Finally. FINALLY! We make it to ground. But my aunt, —who I’m sitting next to, mind—doesn’t like trying to merge into the line to get off of the plane, and because of who I am as a person, I said I could hold it a bit longer. Even as I felt actual tears beginning to form in my eyes.
We finally make it off of that god damned flying death tube, and when I tell you I dropped my stuff and ran to the nearest toilet, not even checking the signs. I am dead serious. My aunt was actually starting to ask if I was okay when I bolted.
I was lucky, in a way, because cleaning had just finished the restroom I bolted into so there was no one else in there.
Which was good considering I had probably one of the best orgasms of my life in a restroom at Ft. Lauderdale International Airport at 12:30 in the morning.
I’m not usually loud, I still live with my mom and with three cats, any weird noises immediately gets the fuzzy bastards running to see what’s up. But I still moaned like I found fucking salvation in that tiny aluminum bathroom stall, legitimate tears were running down my cheeks as I came.
I was hunched over and shaking for the solid minute it took to actually pee, and because of angles, the stream was hitting my clit, topping the whole experience off with a sprinkle of overstim.
I sat there shaking for a few seconds once my bladder was actually empty, trying to get enough of my brain back online to seem less like I came in the bathroom hard enough to consider converting, and more like I was angry at being awake at that hour and not at home.
I had to spend some extra time at the sink to clean up my face, also my legs were still a little wobbly from orgasm so I needed help standing.
I’ve tried to hold it like that again on my own, not often, cause that could actually do some damage, but I don’t have the self control to hold it until it’s that bad again.
Still! Holding it while jerking it is a fun challenge, and it makes the orgasms feel, the best word I have is tighter, but that doesn’t make a whole lotta sense does it.
- @sticky-note
EKFKSNDKSBDKSJSJA NOTE PLEASE
first of all that’s hot as hell but also I am sorry that this occurred on a plane/in an airport because that sounds like a version of hell for me DIFJDBDJSK
But YES yes exactly with the whole pressing against the internal parts of the clit like that’s the whole thing. And good sweet Jesus god the relief and the whole ?? Yeah. YEAH man jeez. N tbh I know exactly what you mean by tighter for whatever it’s worth ??? It’s just. There’s more going on. Idk fjdbsnsk
But yeah holding when you don’t have “legitimate” constraints is a lot harder than when you do (for instance if I was in my truck for work I could hold it 80000x longer than I can just chilling in my apartment, bc my brain knows there’s no free pass by way of going to the bathroom in the truck, but my bathroom in my apartment is 3 steps away at all times) but lemme tell you when you have someone telling you whether or not you have permission to go that is also another thing 🥴
(But yeah obviously don’t go ham on this because your poor pelvic floor muscles will seek revenge in the future, although I would say you’re probably not in danger with recreational holding every now and then. The types of folks who usually experience symptoms with that are like…… truck drivers who drink a fuckload of energy drinks and then have to hold it for EVER because truck.)
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casspurrjoybell-20 · 2 years
Text
Sky Twizzlers - Chapter 11b
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*Warning Adult Content*
First Date - Part 2 - Aubrey 
"So..."
I looked up at Evander as I popped a blueberry into my mouth.
"Hmm?"
"I want to know more about you," Evander admitted, running a hand through his short, black hair.
"But, I'm not quite sure how to begin asking."
A small giggle escaped me. He was really cute.
"Well, you already know my name, how old I am, what I am, what kind of place I came from," I listed off. 
"What else do you want to know?"
"Let's start simple. What's your favorite color?"
"I like green," I answered. 
"But I think all of the colors are pretty."
Evander listened to me intently and his attention made my stomach flutter happily.
"What about your favorite color?" I asked back.
"Hmm, well, I've always liked the color blue," he mused.
"Oh, like Aaron's eyes?" I piped up.
Aaron's eyes were beautiful, a clear blue color that I knew I could get lost in. When he was talking with his friends earlier, they sparkled with joy even though he acted like he was annoyed.
"Yes, Aaron's eyes are quite lovely and so are yours," Evander pointed out.
A blush made its way across my face at his compliment but I ducked my head down to hide it.
"They're not that nice. They used to say it looked weird," I mumbled.
Evander didn't need to ask who I meant. Instead, he scooted closer and slowly put his arms around me. His actions were hesitant and careful as if I were fragile glass he had to handle with care. I was definitely a little shocked he voluntarily touched me but I happily hugged him back, pressing my face into his shoulder and humming happily.
"Let's eat so we can head inside. It's getting colder and I don't want to worry Aaron if he finds us gone," Evander suggested.
I reluctantly pulled my arms away from him but remained close to him, our thighs touching. We chatted as we ate and I found myself quickly falling for Evander past our mate bond.
                                           *******
"Are you serious?" I asked with a laugh, trying my best to contain it but failing horribly.
"Yes," Evander confirmed with a chuckle. 
"Elvira almost had a heart attack when she realized I was missing. I felt so embarrassed when I had to explain to her that I'd fallen asleep on the public bus and ended up on the other side of the city. I had no clue how to get home and I had no money. I was a grown man, I should've been able to plan ahead."
Our laughter died down as we realized we'd finished eating. I looked up to see that the moon was bright in the sky. My eyes closed as I listened to the flowers whisper to me.It felt nice to be outside like this. Time seemed to pass by so quickly when I was with Evander. We'd been talking nonstop. I was surprised he was so chatty. When we were at his apartment, he was so closed off. I wasn't an idiot, I knew he was uncomfortable around us but I wanted to spend as much time as I could around my mates. I hoped that if I continued to initiate contact and remain friendly, they'd both open up and accept me. It seemed to be working with Evander so far.
"We should head inside soon. It's getting late," Evander piped up.
I sighed.
"I don't want to," I admitted with a pout.
My head turned to look at him and my cheeks darkened when I realized he was already looking at me with a gentle smile.
"We can come out again soon, preferably with Aaron," he offered.
“Yes.”
We both cleaned up our mess and stood up. I stretched my arms over my head before looping one through Evander's free arm. As we walked back, I couldn't help but think about how lucky I was. Here I was, walking in the middle of a forest with one of my mates, safe and free. It was something I could only ever dream of and now it was my reality.
"Thank you," I whispered, knowing he heard me.
"What for?"
"For rescuing me and for taking me out like this. I don't think I've ever shown how thankful I really am. It was... so horrible being in that place. I could only ever dream of living freely like this. You and Aaron are my heroes," I explained softly.
Evander remained silent for a bit before he said...
"There's no need to thank me. All I did was be in the right place at the right time. Aaron was the one who saved you. But, I hope I can continue to be a hero in yours and Aaron's eyes. You two are going to be the people I spend the rest of my life with one way or another. I want to be something to you both."
We quickly entered the cabin again and while I hurried upstairs, Evander unpacked the basket. By the time he got back, I was already in bed with one of his shirts and a pair of shorts the people here had given me. He saw me snuggled in the bed and smiled, walking over to sit down by my legs.
"If you wish to sleep, I won't bother you," he said.
"Can you maybe sleep with me? Or at least lay down by my side?" I asked shyly.
He nodded, standing up to remove his shoes and take off his shirt. I looked away bashfully but sneaked a peek anyway, how could I not? I knew Evander was a large person but seeing him without his shirt on showed me just how big he really was. I noticed that some of his skin was covered in a splatter of freckles that I fought the urge to kiss repetitively. They looked too beautiful not to.
When he began removing his pants, I looked away fully to give him complete privacy, hearing him pull out some different pants for sleeping. Soon, he slid in next to me and pulled the covers over both of us. He sat up and leaned against the headboard of the bed, a book in his lap. I scooted closer, boldly resting my head in his lap as I closed my eyes. I felt him tense for a moment at first but he quickly relaxed and placed a gentle hand in my hair. I sighed, letting sleep consume me as my mate ran his fingers through my hair.
‘Finally.’
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digitalis-obscura · 3 years
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two days until i have money and can buy more books
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Hey 👋
I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤
Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.
Or
Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.
Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣
Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕
Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!
Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.
trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking
You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.
You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.
You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.
You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.
"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.
With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."
"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."
"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."
"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."
Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.
You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.
"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"
"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.
You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.
Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."
The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"
You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."
"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"
Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.
"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.
You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."
You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.
"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"
"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.
"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"
Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.
Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."
"Will, I-" you protested.
"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."
You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.
Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.
He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.
"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"
"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."
"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."
"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.
"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.
Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."
"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.
You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.
"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"
"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.
"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"
"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.
You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."
"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.
"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.
"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."
"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.
You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.
"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."
Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.
"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"
"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.
"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"
"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.
You nodded. "Naturally."
Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."
"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."
Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."
You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."
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