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#they make fun of me or hurt because its my fault
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oooooo please tell me (who knows nothing on the subject) about orv swap au
hehehe. hehehehehehe. hehehehehehehhehehehhheheheh <- guy who is so normal
the premise of orv swap au (name has yet to be finalized) is this: what if kdj and yjh swapped narrative positions (reader <-> character) but very little else? what if a video game player enters a time loop to save his favorite character from dying over and over again and also to end the apocalypse?
admittedly it's not super fleshed out yet (a lot of the changes this premise would introduce are still not hammered out yet) but here are some points under the cut (novel spoilers ahead!)
orv swap au starts with pro gamer yjh who feels :/ abt his job, but hey, it pays the bills. despite (or maybe because of) his relative popularity as a pro gamer and networking with the agency/sponsors/people to impress, he's kind of isolated in a way that's detrimental, a facade of someone he's not whenever he's on camera
something to play around with is the idea of agency? maybe this yjh doesn't feel like he has any and has his hands tied between the lifestyle and being under public scrutiny and not having enough of a support system to leave everything behind. maybe he doesn't know what else he would even do. maybe he's aimless and drifting with nothing to hold on to.
his favorite video game is what i've been thinking of as World's Hardest To Play Indie Game (not based on difficulty but just on the experience of consuming it) a boring, exposition heavy, player-hostile, poorly designed, slightly buggy mess of a barely-playable game: twsa, a game that was not finished upon release and experiences with sporadic updates every now and then.
the ending tree to this game is so convoluted its insane. also theres no save states so if you die (very likely) u restart babeyyy.
twsa (video game) does have multiple endings, all of which happen when kdj, your main character, dies. some are farther into the apocolypse than others, some paths require meta knowledge of future events or character actions or items or whatever. the "true ending" is either analogous to the original 1863: kdj makes it to the end at the cost of everyone he loves, or hsy's modified 1863: kdj makes himself enemy of the scenario to secure a way out for the kimcom remnants.
there's branches on the choices tree where everyone dies and everything sucks and is bad forever and theres choices to make where kdj gets to make a family and they don't really get to settle down but they can get pretty close to it among the ruins of the apocalypse. through all his testing, yjh finds that these endings are nice but peter out - to get to the end of the apocalypse yjh has to claw his way there inch by painful inch, through betrayal and sacrifice, and he still cant fully get past it
i originally wanted to finagle a yoohankim 3 way swap but i couldn't figure it out. swap aus are a lot easier to work with when they're even numbers, at least to me, so this au features a ysa who is a video game company employee by day and by night she really has become god this time (and also a terrible indie dev). and this is how jungdoksang can still win !!!!
also yjh's coworker from Real Life hsy :) i haven't decided if she's like an employee for the same agency, or if she's someone else in the gaming circles that yjh interacts with sometimes (in my heart theyre in like some sort of discord server together), or something like that but she's around. whatever she does she is twitter cancelled for something. to me.
the only other character swaps are lsk and yma. yma is yjh's estranged sister (in broad strokes there's a vague bad parent situation going on here) (they used to be close until they drifted apart and slowly started hating each other [there is an abyss between them that neither of them can bridge]) (he feels that she betrayed him and threw him under the bus so he left [maybe he gets kicked out]) (she feels that he abandoned her to whatever situation they have going on [he didn't even try to take her with him]) and he has to find her when the apocalypse starts. yjh older sibling to yma gives us a whole different little dynamic to explore from kdj ysk (there's different levels of responsibility and guilt and blame when you're talking siblings that are soooooo interesting to me. sorry that i see any set of siblings and immediately try to figure out how to make them worse)
lsk is kdj's mom who appeared into existence at some point with kdj and they were both just adults. that's weird isn't it. oh well. i guess she can become a transcendent later too for funsies
everyone else stays in the same configuration of Real Person vs Character to me this is a very important aspect
this point has no precedent with the swap, nothing particular that would change to cause this, but it would be so funny if lgy was a little gamer boy who is an avid yjh hater. hates that guy. shows up to competitions to boo him. tunes into yjh's silent no-mic speedrunning streams to mald in chat but yjh +mods don't ban him bc its kinda funny.
anyways the apocalypse starts when yjh and his coworker/fellow gamer hsy are on a train to twitchcon and lgy is also there (also headed to twitchcon) and he brings bugs because he likes them but also to sabotage yjh specifically. its just funny if this happened. you understand
instead of having reader-related skills and abilities, yjh's skills are video game player based! he gets flavor text insight on people, location, and items, things like that. notably, he has the ability to reset, to bring himself back to the beginning of the apocalypse
orv swap proper follows yjh as the Player of the Game (Consumer of the Narrative) who lives hundred of lifetimes in this ruined-world-become-reality "replaying" [read: time looping through] the game to reshape it to save his fave character from self implosion (kdj with no dissociation is very prone to dying. all the time.). to revisit the idea of playing with yjh and the idea of agency, of creation, the only way to get past the apocalypse is to go off the beaten path, to choose options that weren't even there in the game. when in space, at his darkest point, yjh becomes a writer. in this story, at his darkest point, he has to become a creator too
please do not ask me how the epilogues go i dont know how the epilogues go (i don't want to throw yjh back into a train for milennia after he Just went through a thousand resets so i'm sending kdj for that but i havent fully planned how or why)
anyways, hope that helps!!! :)
#orv au#orvswap#i think i will main tag this. just the one tag tho. poorly planned au be upon ye.#orv#orv spoilers#<- for blacklists!#i only realized after creating this au that this is just how p//mmm goes except its videogame themed and hater lgy is there lol#anyways wheres that post that says time loops are about tragedy and theyre about saying i will make this right#and secret third thing time loops are about love#also each individual dynamic for the creater-player-character triangle in this is so interesting to me to explore like#you have the new kdj-yjh one (mostly similar tbh. was the crux of the au after all) which is a fun space to play in#but then you have a brand new kdj-ysa one to work with which is !!!! a writer and her character. a creator and her creation#and then you have ysa-yjh as the creator and her audience of 1!!!!!!! where is yjh that he needs to be saved? how does ysa answer that call#to love to the point of creation.... to tear the world asunder..... to create the worlds most unplayable rpg.......#lets meet again in another life. ysa reaches out toward yjh but cant reach him before she wakes up. cant quite tell him its not his fault#and Dont Even get me Started on yoo sister dynamics ill go insane#because theyre siblings but for a while (and def at the beginning of the story) it hurts to be around each other (its a betrayal#its a pang in your chest its a you were supposed to protect me and you were supposed to love me and i dont even know you anymore)#but also the swap means the 4th wall eats yma and leaves yjh begging for her back ('dont you hate her?' 'shes my little sister'#which is neither agreement nor denial but also both at once)#its ya boi#tango mango#anyways thanks for the ask im very normal about the ask
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the-gayest-sky-kid · 6 months
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my brother keeps being a bitch on purpose and it's really not helping
#my therapist says hes probably doing to feel better about himself and it's like. fuckin hell dude#because like. look im not saying i dont poke fun at him either right#but i like go think i dont go below the belt in terms of shit???#like i love him im not going to call him genuinely stupid or ugly or anything.#hes good at math and pretty capable. even if he incinerated mac n cheese once and we had to get a new microwave#but he keeps going up to me like (aether) whats a×b? oh how do you not know that instantly? are you stupid?#its because (extremely personal issue) LOL (deep cutting personal issue again)#and its like look ive never been good at mental math stop being a fucking jerk over me not knowing fuckin 9×7 off the top of my head#and i keep telling him to drop it and shut up but its just spurs him on more because its funny to him#and he keeps bringing up other shit like being queer or being trans specifically because he knows its upsetting and its just fucking funny#he loves to say people with weird pronouns and think there's more than two genders should kill themselves because he knows it makes me angr#with him. and he knows im fucking queer. he knows our grandmothers queer. and he still pulls this shit#and i cant say anything because when i do i get a whole lecture about how hes my flesh and blood and i should treat him like such#and im the asshole for suggesting he act like it for once#i love my brother and im proud of his achievements but i cant keep fucking doing this#and i know its my fault because hes a stupid kid and going through typical middle school boy bullshit#and seriously getting hurt by whatever a middle schooler says is downright pathetic#but it fucking hurts to hear someone you held as a baby and defended say people like you should kill themselves#and it hurts to have them fucking push a topic that upsets you for their own amusement#swearing cw#aethers rants#cw vent#personal posts and stuff idk
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spacedykez · 1 year
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i feel like doing things i shouldnt
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miikapie · 3 months
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"Its not gonna fit!" with Geto, Choso, Toji and Gojo! (NSFW)
Just posting this because ive been thinking about writing it for weeks. Enjoy this tiny drabble while I stress over college!
Cw:.. fem!reader x various jjk men, they're mean :(( (toji, gojo too kinda..), choso being too sweet, cunilingus (choso), bad grammar ofcourse, SEX SMASHING INTERCOURSE BABY MAKING FUCKING MAKING LOVE i hope you get the point.
/MDNI//NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!
Gojo is so mean to you. If you say absolutely anything related to his size, or not being able to accommodate to his girth, hes seizing the opportunity to brag and belittle you while doing so.
"Awh baby.. it can't fit? hmm? Is my cock too big? Its okay, cutie, I know I know.. Maybe we just need to pay attention to your little clit, and we'll stretch you out too yeah? Im gonna make sure your little cunt remembers every single one of my veins no matter how long it takes to get in aallllll the way."
Geto (sighs dreamily) I LOVE THIS MAN. Totally much nicer than Gojo, but unintentionally mind-breaks you. His voice btw is so sexy can you imagine how husky it is duirng the deed??? drooling rn.
"Oh, what was that? It wont fit, hm? Thats okay, love. We'll find our way around it. Just gotta stretch you out some more so i can hit that spot you love so much, mhm? Right there isnt it? Yeah, I can tell with the way you're tightening around me. Or what about this? Maybe I'll touch your clit a little more. God... I love seeing you like this. Thats a good girl.. lay down juuust like that. You dont need to think for yourself anymore when I've got you."
Toji is SO mean, and incredibly cocky. Despite knowing damn well he's way too big to bottom out immediately in you, he takes this opportunity be snarky fun of you while destroying your insides.
" 's too big? We'll make it fit, doll. Stop moving like that, you know its just gonna hurt more. Give it a few minutes and you'll be crying like a bitch in heat. Fine. I'll be nice i guess, but im still going all the way in. 's not my fault your pussy's too damn tight. Fuck.. so good.. Yeah, see? Told you you could take it, wipe those tears 'fa me and keep your legs up here on my shoulders, yeah?"
Nanami... ah. He tries so so hard to be nice to you, by slowly bullying his way in your walls, but no matter how many times you do the deed it seems like you can never keep up with his size
"Too much, honey? Its okay, sweetheart. Look, I'll put a pillow just under your back here.. and it'll make you feel much better. Whats that? Feels nicer now? Ill take it slow as always honey, just take your deep breaths... God.. you're always so tight... It feels nice when I touch you right here doesn't it?..Feels deeper? Yes, love, thats the pillow under your back helping you relax. We're gonna have to use that trick next time wont we? Thats it, sweet thing, see? Im almost bottomed out and you haven't even noticed at all."
Choso is too much of a sensitive lover to even think about ever possibly pushing your boundaries. If he ever heard you say anything along the lines of 'too big' he'd pull out immediately and instead eat you out as an apology. (even though you've told him its just something you said in the heat of the moment) (he still leaves you shaking tho.)
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astonmartingf · 26 days
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CALL ME MAX VERSTAPPEN ; MV1
max verstappen x streamer!reader
. . . the long awaited stream, and in charles conditions to let max and lando join, they become the third wheelers of maxyn
amgf wow, i'm back! i love max honestly he's fun to write, also bestfriend!charles is the best thing that happened. enjoy this 👍
previous: chase
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yourusername
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liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 108,752 others
yourusername call me max verstappen with the way i'm winning these games 😎
view 23,698 comments...
user1 gamer max!!!!
charles_leclerc he didn't even win the last race 🙄
yourusername you didn't win the last race either?
charles_leclerc change it to carlos sainz then
yourusername is that jealousy i'm hearing?
charles_leclerc are you playing that game with me?
yourusername i'm sorry cha 🥺
maxverstappen1 Stop teasing YN
yourusername see charles_leclerc 😛
charles_leclerc i don't know what max told you but i can still take back what I said
yourusername I WAS JUST JOKEINH 🥹 AHAHAHA how funny right?
charles_leclerc i'm always on the lookout
user2 me a yapper and nosy person waiting for charles to reveal what first he has on yn
user3 i'm sure it's about max, because he's so curious about it
user4 he has a crush on yn i fear
liked by maxverstappen1 and charles_leclerc
user5 they're actually so funny it's adorable
user6 i want what they have 😭😭
user7 is the caption max approved?
yourusername hehehehe its because i kept winning in mario kart
user8 technically it's call me YN because he didn't win at all
yourusername WAIT... you're right
maxverstappen1 just wait when your sim setup arrives you'll be looking at my rear wing
yourusername why would you say that to a noob like me 🥺
maxverstappen1 you kept teasing me because i was complaining about the controls, i definitely could've explained it properly
yourusername it's not my fault mario kart is better than sim racing, look at the characters!!! we all know mario can drive the RB20 but can Max Verstappen use the daisy glider? exactly, you can't!
maxverstappen1 because it's not real?
yourusername haters are always yapping thinking they can prove it 👄🤏
user9 they're my parents /real
user10 is this what it feels to have a love story unfold in your eyes
user11 they're already fighting and arguing 🥹 don't talk to me
maxverstappen1 uploaded a new story
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[it's not sim racing and that's okay 👍]
charles_leclerc replied to your story
you're down bad...
what can i say
the game is actually not that bad
you're sickening
you and yn
well i'm sorry i like yn charles 🙄
what can i do to make it up to you?
just don't hurt yn
yourusername replied to your story
i told you so!!!
also thank you for helping me buy a racing set up
i've been browsing to surprise charles since he's been wanting me to play
no worries, if it arrives tell me and i'll help you set it up
won't you be busy?
i'll make time, i always do 😉
okay max
i'll tell you when the setup arrives ☺️
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amgf ★ superstars: @namgification @lpab @the-untamed-soul @xjval @yoremins @thedecalcomania-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @youre-on-your-ownkid
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junipers-archive · 10 months
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hey idk how your requests for fics/oneshots work but i thought of this idea! could you do a reader who gets injured a lot(bruises, scratches, burns) and doesnt seem to notice why shes in pain and spencer is always super worried, or points them out and asks if their ok and they are just genuinely like "huh??" like no clue they were actually hurt. i love protective spence. (this is totally self indulgent i spent 3 hours reading in the sun and didnt realize i was burnt until someone noticed ngl)
"Ow!" Suprisingly its not you who screeches, but Spencer who has been watching you like a hawk the entire case.
He had just witnessed you trying to retrace the steps of the serial killer you were tracking and cut yourself on the nearby wire fencing. Walking over to you, you notice his expression, eyebrows scrunched and mouth downturned.
"How does that not hurt?! It hurts me just to look at it!"
You're about to ask what he's talking about but you notice his pointed stare and follow his gaze to the slash down your upper right forearm. Its bleeding, which you would've realized if you hadn't been busy staring at him.
He looks over to hotch and gets a nod of understanding. And you realize you've done it again.
"oh. oops." Its all you can say, all you can come up with because it doesn't hurt, and also he's standing really close to you, too close, you can smell his cologne, which is clean but sweet and perfect and-
"How-how does this even happen to you?" He snaps you out of your daze, now guiding you to the car, popping the trunk to get the med kit out. He supposedly started it 'for the safety of the team members should something happen'.
Though everyone knows the only team member who needed it was you. You're 99% sure the only reason Hotch agreed to the carry on was because he was tired of having to ask for band aids at every police station you had to cooporate with.
Once you take a seat in the trunk he begins cleaning you up, which to your embarrassment, happens almost every case. But it was hardly ever your fault, your body just rarely experienced the sensation of pain.
Even when it meant you walked around with paper cuts on your fingers all day and only noticed the blood while doing paperwork.
"Sorry..." You mumble, lips twisting into a grimace at your childishness, you can't even take care of yourself, your coworker has to keep an eye on you. "You should be focused on the case, not worried about if I'll break my arm and not feel it.."
You cringe at his slight smile, expecting to be made fun of. "I-Its fine, Y/n I like taking care of you."
Rolling your eyes at his sweetness you tilt your head, "You really like having to keep your eyes on me 24/7, making sure I haven't gone and cut off a finger or fell and broken a bone, you want to keep your eyes on me?"
"Yes, I quite like it actually." And he's grinning Spencer Reid is grinning up at you like he's won the lottery, like looking after you is some prize he's won.
"What-Whatdoyoumean-" you begin quickly but he interrupts you,
"All done!" And he's walking away, he's really just walking away like he just didn't do what he just did.
"Spence! Spencer you come back here right now!" And now you have everyone looking at you like a lunatic. But by god you will find out exactly what he meant.
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bet-on-me-13 · 11 months
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Dp X Injustice AU's
So, we have seen the frankly insane about of Dp x Dc AU's that have been spawned over the years. But I never really see any Injustice AU's
And then I thought, which Dp x Dc AU would you actually use for an Injustice AU?
Let me give some examples:
Justice League Member Danny: Danny is a part of the Justice League by the time Superman goes insane. He decides to step in when Shazam is nearly killed by Superman, but gets hurt himself in the process and is thrown in jail. This causes some of Superman's supporters to doubt him, since Danny is just a 16 yr old kid and Clark nearly killed him.
Danny is sill a Solo Hero: Danny is still just a Solo Hero from Amity Park in this. When Superman takes over the world, he goes to Amity to try and recruit Phantom. Danny refuses, and they butt heads. Danny eventually promises that he will continue to just act as a small time Vigilante in return for not joining Batman's side. This changes years later, when Superman is responsible for the death of Jazz Fenton.
Danny is a "Villain": Danny is seen as a Villain because he is a Ghost. At least, that's what the outside world thinks, but the situation in Amity is different. Danny has been seen as a Hero for years now, it's just the rest of the world that doesn't want to accept that fact. So when Superman takes over the world, and tries to execute every Villain, he goes after Phantom. Only for the Entire Town to try and stop him.
@little-pondhead Everlasting Trio Villain AU: So, take Little Pondhead's Villain AU and put it in the Injustice Universe. Danny can be the insane megalomaniac Villain he always wanted to be and not feel guilty because this is a Dictatorship. (Although it does remind him of Dan before his parole). He just has fun, messing with Superman, building insane crazy inventions, messing with Superman, enacting fun Villain plots, messing with Superman, and of course messing with Superman. Meanwhile Superman is just having a horrible time because there is just this random Villain, doesn't even seem to have powers, and he Just. Can't. Catch Him! Batman is looking for Fenton to recruit, meanwhile Fenton is literally here to Not be a Hero. It gets even worse when he brings in his Friends and Ellie.
Danny is the Ghost King: Danny is the Ghost King by now, and Batman's side try to Summon Him to deal with Superman during the whole "Super Pills" event. He shows up just in time to save Green Arrow, but isn't trong enough to kill Superman. He himself gets extremely injured in the process and gets forcibly summoned back to the Ghost Zone to be healed. Now the entire Dimension is gearing up to attack the Living World as revenge for their King being so hurt.
Old Man Danny AU: My own AU. Danny is still an Old Man just living in Gotham when Superman takes over. At one of his rally's to try and garner support and stop the rebellions, Danny stands up in the middle of the crowd and calls him out on all his Bullshit. This causes the whole crowd to start yelling at Superman, which in turn causes Superman to have a Homelander Moment. He kills Danny, who just laughs as he falls to the floor, and causes a riot. What Superman doesn't know, is that Danny was slated to ascend to Godhood at the moment of his Death, so now he has a God of Death chasing him to fulfill his "need to be avenged" urges (its like hunger pangs for ghosts)
Danny as a Medium: Danny is a Traveling Ghost Speaker, like the guy you pay $5 to pretend to speak to your dead loved ones, but he can actually speak to them. Superman is patrolling the world, just making the rounds now that he had conquered the Earth, and comes across Danny's Tent. He stops by in curiosity and asks to speak to his dead Wife. Danny asks if he really wants to put himself through that, but Superman insists. So Danny, instead of just speaking for the Ghost like normal, actually Summons Lois Lanes Ghost to talk to Superman. They have a heartfelt conversation about how it wasn't his fault, and how he shouldn't blame himself, but eventually they get to the topic of Clark talking over the world. She isn't proud, but understands if this is what it takes for him to be happy. She leaves, and Superman is left finally second-guessing himself for the first time in years. Because it doesn't make him happy. (*ahem* Danny still wants to be payed, soooo......)
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roosterforme · 7 months
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Always Ever Only You Part 10 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Does absence make the heart grow fonder or more frustrated? You and Bradley aren't quite sure where you stand with each other, and you're both apprehensive about how it will feel to open up communication again. And while it's hard for you to stop blaming yourself, Bradley is becoming aware of all the ways he hasn't done enough.
Warnings: Angst, swearing
Length: 5400 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32
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Bradley picked at his dinner for the third night in a row. He sat between Nat and Bob, and both of them clearly knew something was wrong. But Bradley hadn't been able to talk about it. What was he supposed to say, anyway? Admit that he had been acting like sex with his wife was a chore? Tell them that he had made you cry the night you got promoted? Disclose that you had slept on the bathroom floor to get away from him? Announce he was that asshole who got his sperm tested without telling you?
As if that wasn't enough, Bradley could still hear the hurt in your voice when you yelled at him about the test results in the kitchen at home. The memory of it caused him a physical pain in his chest. It was an ache that he knew would be there until you spoke to him again. If you spoke to him again. 
"Pass the salt?" Bob asked softly, and Bradley did it automatically and without any emotion. It wasn't Bob's fault that things went down so badly at home. And it wasn't Nat's fault either. But he could barely look at them or talk to them, and he knew he was going to need to start. Because whatever this mission brought, all of them would be doomed with Bradley in this kind of headspace. 
He cleared his throat and said, "This meatloaf is pretty good."
"It's okay," Nat replied. "Nothing's as good as what your wife makes. Think you can talk her into another dinner party when we get home?"
He could only grunt in response before he had to cover his eyes with one hand. 
"Hey," Nat whispered, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. "You're kind of scaring us, Soul Sister. Wanna talk about it?"
He shook his head. "Not in the middle of the mess hall, but thanks, Nat."
"Maybe later? We can sit in the lounge and eat all the candy I brought."
Bradley had to close his eyes against the pain he felt over being an inadequate husband. But he loved his best friend, and he knew he'd probably feel better if he confided in her. "I'll think about it."
Just when he started poking at his dinner again, three young aviators sat down on the other side the table, the biggest one directly across from Bradley. "Hey, old timers," he said in an annoying accent that immediately reminded him of Jake. So these must be the young recruits out of Lemoore. The hotshots that all the admirals were talking about. Bradley just wanted to poke at his food and think about his wife. He didn't really feel like babysitting right now. 
"Hi," Bob responded cheerily, and the three of them laughed. Bradley wanted to tell Bob not to engage with them, but it was too late. The big one, who introduced himself as Slayer, was subtly making fun of Bob's glasses, and Bradley's nerves were already too frayed. 
"Hey, Nat, how about we hang out in the lounge now," he said as he stood with his mostly uneaten tray of dinner. Bradley was exhausted, all he wanted was to be able to fix things with you, and training was starting early tomorrow morning. And he needed to get away from these morons as soon as possible. 
Nat and Bob stood, and followed him to get rid of their trash and trays. "I didn't think you'd actually take me up on my offer so soon. Usually you need a full week to stew in your feelings before you say anything."
Bradley rolled his eyes. "I didn't like the way Slayer was talking to Bob. You know he was making fun of you right? He literally said he'd never fly with a WSO in glasses," he said. 
"Oh. Yeah. I know," Bob replied in an even tone. "Doesn't much matter. I don't have to fly with him. I get to fly with Phoenix. And I always pass my eye exams."
Bradley was in a constant state of inner panic right now. He didn't understand how his two friends could be as calm as they were. Nat was listing off all the candy she had brought with her while Bob nodded placidly and told her that Starbursts were his guilty pleasure. Meanwhile Bradley couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or jump into the ocean. When he thought about you back at home in the craftsman with Tramp, it was hard for him to breathe. You were forgiving, patient and caring, but he wasn't so sure he deserved any of those things from you right now. 
The three of them stopped by Nat's bunk to get some of the candy, but after Bob snagged a few Starbursts, he turned away from the lounge.
"You're not coming?" Nat asked. 
"Nah," Bob replied as he unwrapped a candy. "I'll turn in early. Good night."
Bradley just shook his head. Even though he'd be up all night, typing up email drafts to you on his phone without any wi-fi, at least Bob didn't snore. So he could be miserable in his bed with some peace and quiet. 
"Come on," Nat told him, wrapping her smaller hand around the crook of his elbow and guiding him down the dim, gray corridor toward the lounge. "You'll feel better after we talk."
"I don't know," he replied, swallowing past the pain he felt. When he got into the lounge, he flopped down on his back on the narrow couch, leaving a tiny bit of room for Nat to sit next to his head. "I fucked up."
"I'm assuming by just how fucking miserable you look that something happened with your wife?" She opened a package of Twizzlers and handed him a few strands. 
"We were trying to have a baby," he said softly as he spun the silicone ring around on his finger. It felt weird. It looked weird. He didn't really like it. He missed his gold band that he left at home with you. But this one would be safer; that's why he ordered it with all of his deployment supplies from Amazon. And if anything happened to him, you'd at least have his wedding ring. 
"Yeah," Nat replied, shoving some gummy worms into her mouth. "I know. You already told me that. You're glued to your wife most of the time anyway. If you have a baby, you'll be insufferable." 
"I don't know if she'll let me touch her again let alone have sex."
She paused with more worms in her hand and looked down at him. "Bradshaw, what the hell did you do?"
He rubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. "I think I put too much pressure on her. On both of us. We've been trying for five cycles, and I know when her period is due and when she's ovulating...and I realize how bad that sounds when I say it out loud. Because yeah...I kept talking about it nonstop at home. I ruined her fucking promotion night, Nat."
"Oh," she whispered. "You made her feel like she only serves one purpose for you."
"Fuck," he moaned, covering his eyes with his bicep, his Baby Girl paper airplane tattoo pressed to his face. Nat was completely right. In one short sentence, she put all of his wild, rambling thoughts into perspective for him. That was exactly what he had been doing. And when he thought he was being helpful, all he was really doing was reminding you of what wasn't happening. "Nat, I had my sperm tested, and I didn't tell her. She found the paperwork with the results."
She gasped, and he immediately felt a million times worse. He had disappointed his wife, and now his best friend was disgusted with him on your behalf. "Why?" she demanded, tossing the candy bags aside and tugging on him until he was sitting up. "Why didn't you tell her?"
"Fuck, Nat. I thought it would be helpful information to have, you know? If there was something wrong with me, then we could talk to a doctor right away."
"There's nothing wrong with you, is there?" she asked in a monotone voice.
"No," he replied softly, looking at the floor. "And then I didn't want to tell her about it. But she saw the paper, and she blamed herself for everything. Which I somehow knew was exactly what was going to happen. And I should have just fucking told her I was thinking about getting the testing done!"
When he turned to look at his best friend, her eyes looked sad, and her lips were set in a frown. "Oh, Rooster. You're such an idiot."
"I know that!" he snapped back. "I don't need you to say it!"
"Yes, you do," she replied calmly. "You need me to say it. You should have come to me with this weeks ago. Next time you have a dumbass thought, like how you're going to jerk off into a cup and not tell your wife about it, you come talk to me. We'll sort it out."
"I don't know how to fix this. We could barely even look at each other when I left." He closed his eyes and added, "And now I'm here, and she's there."
"What's more important to you? Having a child or loving your wife?"
Whether or not Nat really needed to hear what his answer to that question was, the words made him so physically sick, he had to stand up and walk around the room. "If she's not happy, then nothing else matters," he managed around the tightness in his throat. "It's not worth it. Nothing else is worth it if she's not happy with me."
"Then I think you need to start with that and work from there," Nat told him, standing and wrapping him in a hug.
------------------------------
You skipped work on Monday. You didn't call in. You didn't tell anyone. You just didn't go. You just stayed in bed most of the day with Bradley's wedding ring and a sinking feeling in your heart. Your parents called you on Monday night, probably to see how you were doing without Bradley at home, but you couldn't answer their call. And you weren't honestly sure if things were better or worse without him here. All you knew was you didn't want to go back to work, because you couldn't stop crying. 
But on Tuesday morning, you felt more angry than sad, and that seemed to be the motivation you needed to take a shower. You vigorously scrubbed at your Rooster tattoo until the skin felt fresh and raw. Then you dressed in your uniform and headed out. You hadn't eaten anything since before Bradley left, but it didn't matter. 
You couldn't even decide if you wanted to talk to him or not. He could call you tomorrow, or it could be weeks before you heard from him. But you kept your phone on you just like you always did when he was away. The sickening feeling of what if washed over you. What if something happened, and they needed to reach you. What if Bradley was injured again. What if you never got a chance to talk to him again.
As you made your way to your lab, you already had tears in your eyes. By shutting each other out, you and your husband had only made things worse. You had to stop thinking about him. He probably wasn't even thinking about you at all. His goodbye speech was echoing in your mind, and you could just picture his ring on your nightstand. 
"Fuck," you croaked as you sat down in your usual seat. You thought you were alone, but then you heard Cat's voice behind you.
"Something wrong?"
"No," you muttered, wiping at your eyes. "I'm fine." You didn't even bother to turn and face her, but a second later, she was pulling her chair closer to you than she normally sat. Great. "I told you I was fine."
"Yeah," she replied casually. "And I heard you. But you're terrible at lying. You're too nice to be able to pull it off. Where were you yesterday?"
You stared straight ahead and took a few deep breaths. You weren't feeling particularly nice these days, and you weren't too fond of the way Cat had been treating Jake. Your heart rate was up. The desire to hurt someone, to make them feel miserable like you did, was pulsing through your body. 
"You know what, Cat?" you asked, turning in your seat to face her. You got to watch her neutral expression melt away as you said, "Maybe we should cut the shit."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, very subtly moving away from you. That should have been you cue to cool yourself down, but you just couldn't. 
"I'm talking about the way you're treating Jake like he's trash. Did you make out with him in secret again yesterday? Turn him down for another date?"
"I can't go out with him," she snapped back. "I can't have him around Jeremiah. He's exactly like what I left behind in Maryland."
"You like him!" you nearly shouted. 
"Of course I do," she replied, dark eyes flashing. "But not seriously. He'd be a terrible fit for me now. He's a womanizer. I know he's your friend, but why can't you see that?"
"He wants to change! And he'd probably just adore Jeremiah!" you insisted with narrowed eyes. "For some unknown reason, he really likes you, even though you and your Uncle Hondo are putting him through the fucking ringer!"
Your fists were clenched, and it felt so good to be upset about something other than your relationship with Bradley. But you watched Cat's expression turn to panic. 
"You know about Hondo?" she asked softly. 
You laughed darkly. "Are you referring to the fact that he's your uncle? Or that he's been giving Jake extra push ups and laps around the hangars as extra punishments for weeks now?"
Her lips parted, and she looked like she was going to be sick. "He saw us. He must have."
"Yeah, no shit. I saw you, too, remember? You're not doing a very good job of hiding the fact that you think Jake is good enough for you to lead him on physically but not good enough to have dinner with him."
"Uncle Bernie is trying to scare Jake away. Because Jake is exactly like Chris, and he doesn't want me to get hurt again. I didn't know-" she started, but you cut her off. 
"Well now you do. And if you truly don't give a flying fuck about Jake, then let him rot out there on the tarmac, doing a million extra push ups every day instead of eating lunch. But if you care about him even a little bit, please stop leading him on. Just tell him you're not going to date him once and for all, and tell Hondo to knock it off!"
Cat turned toward her computer and went silent for the rest of the morning. Which was fine with you. There was a lot to catch up on since you skipped work yesterday. There was no point in going to lunch since Bradley was gone. And if you did go, you'd just end up arguing with Jake. So instead you pretended to do some work while you thought about how many things needed to change between you and Bradley until you made yourself nauseous. 
------------------------------------------
"Before we get started today, I'd like to just take a moment to point out that our fresh recruits from Lemoore have been doing an excellent job both in the air and in the classroom," Admiral Dean announced to the room full of aviators. Bradley rolled his eyes as Slayer and his buddies sat up a little straighter. "You're really earning the spotlight," he told them before continuing with some of the mission details. 
Admiral Dean had been showing favoritism to the group from Lemoore all week, and Bradley cringed knowing he had seven more weeks of this to go. He didn't want to be here. His mind kept wandering back to San Diego. Back to you. 
After a week away, he didn't even know where you and he stood. He felt numb. Desensitized. Almost like nothing could hurt him or fix him except you. Were you sleeping and eating well? Were you worried about him? Was there any way you could forgive him for the way he'd behaved and the things he'd said? Did you even want to?
It was a good thing he already had these mission parameters memorized; two teams would be working in tandem to eliminate a communications tower and a newly constructed military base. He knew it by heart, and now all he could think about was what he wanted to tell you if you accepted a call from him. He'd been talking to Nat all week, and it was clear to Bradley now that you should be his top priority. Not a baby, not having sex to try to get pregnant. Just you. 
But there was so much he wanted to say to you, and he was afraid he was going to stumble over his words and just make things worse. It could be another week or two before he was allowed access to an iPad anyway. He'd put his name in to try to get chosen for an early FaceTime slot, but there were no guarantees. 
"Bradshaw, Trace, Floyd," barked Admiral Dean. "Get out to your aircrafts to run some practice formations. And try to keep up with the rest."
"Yes, sir," Bradley managed to say with a perfect salute when really all we wanted to do was flip this guy the bird and then hijack an iPad for the rest of the day. 
"You look so distracted," Nat whispered as they exited the classroom. 
"I just need to talk to her," he replied softly. "If I can just have a real conversation with her and tell her how I feel, I think I'll be able to focus."
She nodded. "I know. I already told you that if I get selected first, you can trade time slots with me."
He just nodded, because the tightness in his throat made him more than a little nervous for how he was about to perform in the air for Admiral Dean and the other officers. Once they were all out on deck, the sun was way too hot, and Bradley could feel the sweat trickling down his back. He handed his helmet to Nat for a second so he could remove his silicone ring and wipe the sweat from his hand. 
"Whoa, wait. Are you two old timers married to each other?" asked Slayer's large and annoying buddy. From the font emblazoned across his helmet, his call sign was Charmer. Oh, the irony.
"No, dumbass," Nat replied coolly. "Flying together would be disallowed according to the misconduct handbook."
Charmer looked confused by her words, and Bradley wanted to laugh. But now Slayer was referring to Bob as "four eyes" which made him want to punch something.
"How can I guarantee that you can see correctly in the air?" Slayer asked him. "I shouldn't even have to fly with you at all."
"Oh," Bob said with a good natured chuckle. "My corrective lenses make it possible for me to see just perfectly. I passed my eye exams last month."
But Slayer just snickered. "The only thing worse than flying with a guy who can't see is flying with a woman." 
Bradley was about to take his helmet back from Nat when he felt his hands curl into fists. Suddenly it seemed like he had nothing to lose by leveling these assholes. 
"You need to learn some fucking manners and put some respect on her name," Bradley growled closing in on Slayer.
But the other man didn't back down at all. "I'm sure Phoenix here can't fly for shit, but at least she's alright to look at. I'll bet your wife is a dog, old man."
That was it. Bradley was actually going to be dishonorably discharged from the navy for fistfighting another officer. But just as Bob managed to kind of wedge his arms between their bodies, Admiral Dean started calling for everyone to get in their aircrafts. 
"Woof woof," Slayer called with a laugh as he strutted away. He sounded like a fucking child. He essentially was a fucking child. But Bradley still had to fight the desire to pound his face in.
"You need to relax," Nat hissed. "Dean already has it out for us, and you'll just make it worse."
"I know," Bradley growled, putting his helmet on. "But he insulted both of you."
"Bob and I are used to it, Rooster. You need to tuck your feelings way down deep inside until later tonight. I'll get out more candy and can you lay on the couch in the lounge and mope. But now is not the time!"
His friend was absolutely right. He needed to chill. So Bradley tried to clear his mind of all extraneous material, keeping only the mission details and his perfect wife at the forefront.
----------------------------
On Saturday evening, you managed to call your parents back. They sounded concerned when you lied and told them that you had a migraine and you were going to try to catch up on sleep for the rest of the weekend. You tried to engage in conversation for a few minutes more, but as soon as your mom mentioned future grandkids, you had to end the call. 
The throbbing pain in your heart just wouldn't go away. You missed Bradley. It hurt to breathe as you curled up in bed wearing your husband's UVA shirt with Tramp next to you. 
Jake kept texting you constantly, trying to see where you were. He tried calling a few times today, but you were ignoring him pretty successfully. Maybe you could just take some melatonin and pass out until tomorrow afternoon. 
As you climbed out of bed to dig around in your nightstand, a thought occurred to you. Had Bradley left you anything this time? You'd been too consumed by your wayward thoughts to even register that maybe there was something in here for you. When you opened the drawer, you sank all the way down onto your knees on the floor. 
There was a pretty, professionally bound album with one of your wedding photos on the cover. You and Bradley on the beach. He was looking at you like he couldn't believe you were real, and his fingers were resting gently on the side of your neck. 
You had to squeeze your eyes closed against the tears, because you could remember that moment perfectly. You could almost feel the weight of his hands on your body and hear his voice. When you reached into the drawer to remove the album, a tiny paper airplane that was tucked in the corner fell out of it.
Thanks for the memories, Baby Girl.
You couldn't stop crying. There were photos from when you were dating and the day he bought the craftsman. There were photos of Tramp and some from the Hard Deck. There was one of you at the beach just before a crashing wave soaked you through your clothing. There were some with your parents and some at Goose and Carole's gravesite. And he had chosen the most beautiful wedding and honeymoon photos as well. Everything was in order, and they were all perfect. And each one had a handwritten sentence or two underneath.
I can't believe how beautiful you are.
How did I get this lucky?
Let's stay together forever. That's all I want.
You are my perfect wife.
You were laying flat on the floor, staring at the ceiling with tears leaking from your eyes when you heard your doorbell ring. "Fuck," you gasped as you sobbed. Tramp launched himself off the bed and ran through the living room barking up a storm. 
They would go away. Whoever it was would just leave when nobody opened the door. But then the pounding started. "Angel! It's me! I see your car in the driveway."
You didn't want to talk to Jake right now. You didn't want to talk to anyone right now. You just wanted to look at the album of photos from your husband and wonder what he meant by Thanks for the memories, Baby Girl.
"I brought my spare key from Rooster, and I'm about to use it," he called through the door. Even Tramp's barks had turned to a pathetic whimper by this point, so you just got yourself up off the floor. 
You almost made it to the door by the time Jake was opening it. And then he took one look at you, softly closed it behind him, and wrapped his arms around you. 
"Oh, Angel," he crooned as you sobbed and shook against him. "What the hell happened?"
"Everything," you cried, burying your face in his shirt. "I don't know."
Carefully and very slowly, he guided you toward the couch as he told you that it would all be okay. But you didn't believe him. And when he suggested you sit down while he got you something to drink, you shook your head.
"Okay," he whispered, keeping his arms tight around you, holding you in the middle of the living room. You had no idea how long it took until you were able to stand on your own again, but when you finally pulled your face away from his shoulder and met his eyes, he looked very concerned. 
You just sniffed and wiped at your tears as he kissed your forehead. "You ready to tell me what's wrong?" he asked, and you just shrugged in response. You knew that as soon as you started talking, you'd be sobbing again. "You ready for some tea and a snack?"
This time you nodded and plopped down onto the couch with Tramp at your feet. You could hear Jake opening and closing the kitchen cupboards, looking for mugs and tea bags. But it felt nice to have someone in your house with you, so you curled up against the throw pillow and took some deep breaths. When he set down some cheese and crackers next to a mug of hot tea, you realized you hadn't eaten all day. Your stomach growled with hunger, and then you thought you might be sick. 
He sat next to you and blew on his own mug of tea. "Figured you hadn't eaten dinner," he mused, petting Tramp on the head. 
"I haven't eaten all day," you whispered, reaching for your own mug. 
Jake gave you an appraising look. "I think it's time to tell me what's wrong."
You tried to sip your tea, but it was too hot. "You already know I can't seem to get pregnant," you said with an awkward shrug. "It's the only thing Bradley wants, and I can't get it right."
"Angel. That's not the only thing he wants," Jake insisted, but your eyes were blurry with tears again. 
"Just because he'd never admit to it doesn't mean it's not true," you whispered.
"He'd never admit to it, because it's not true. Jesus, do you hear yourself? Trying to talk in circles to reach an incorrect conclusion?" he asked, shaking his head. "Bradley would walk through fire for you. He would tame a lion, or defy the laws of physics or some shit."
You snorted in spite of yourself. But then you admitted to Jake that Bradley had gotten his sperm tested behind your back. And you told him the things he had said recently that made you cry yourself to sleep.
"He's just stupid," Jake insisted. "Doesn't mean he loves you less because you're not pregnant. Yet. Just give it a few more months. And it sounds like you both want the exact same thing, and you both want to find a way to blame yourself so the other one can be let off the hook."
"Huh." You hadn't really thought about it that way. The self blame crept in every day for you. But maybe that was part of the reason why Bradley gave a sperm sample. Blaming yourself was easier than blaming the person you loved. 
Then Jake asked, "Did you skip lunch all week? I saved you a seat every day. I saw Maria, and I asked if you'd been eating with her." 
You looked at him and knew you couldn't lie. "I haven't really had an appetite since Bradley left."
"Have you been avoiding the dining hall because of me?" 
Maybe you had been a little bit. You didn't want to go down there knowing you wouldn't see Bradley, not with the way you left things. But you felt like things with Jake were a little off kilter too. "I don't know. Maybe."
He sat in silence for a minute before reaching for the plate of cheese and crackers and holding it out to you. With a sigh you took some of the food and started to nibble on it. 
"What's going on with you and Cat?"
"Nothing."
You rolled your eyes and bit into the cracker. "I've heard that before."
He lounged back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I really like her. There's something about the way she looks and her smile and her voice. I don't know. But she told me a few days ago to just stop asking her out. So I did. And I've barely seen her since."
You felt like maybe this was your fault. You also felt like maybe this is what Jake actually needed. "Is Hondo still riding you?"
"Nah," Jake sighed before he drank more of his tea. "He backed off. Kind of miss it though. Make me feel like I was getting somewhere, you know?" he asked with a tiny smirk. "It's hard to get under that man's skin. But I guess making out with his niece will do the trick."
You laughed, and then you realized you had eaten most of the cheese and crackers. And then you finished your tea while Jake took Tramp out for a little walk for you. 
Once he was gone, you texted Maria and Cam about potentially going to brunch tomorrow morning. Then you sat in bed and took your time with the photo book from Bradley. Every page made you smile or feel like crying because you missed him. 
When you tried to put his wedding band on your thumb, it was still too big. So you unclasped the chain holding the charms he gave you, and you added it there. Then you took your melatonin and went to sleep.
----------------------------
Bradley was in line for dinner on Monday after a day of being roasted by Admiral Dean when he heard his name. "Bradshaw." He turned to see a man heading his way. "There's a free slot with an iPad if you want it."
"Now?" he asked, tossing his tray down and stepping out of line. 
"Yes. Your name was at the top of the list."
"Okay," he said, heart racing as he headed for the room onboard the aircraft carrier where he could finally talk to you. He was nervous. There were a million things he wanted to say, and he wished he had written them down. But it didn't matter. He was going to get to see your face. He could finally tell you the truth about how he had been feeling and how he was going to make things up to you. And he'd beg you to be honest with him, too. 
"Thanks," he muttered as he took the offered iPad and found an empty seat. He could hear other officers talking and laughing with their loved ones, and he smiled as he entered your phone number. The first thing out of his mouth was going to be how much he loved you. The second thing was going to be that the two of you would figure everything out when you were together again.
But Bradley counted each time your phone rang unanswered. Three... Four... Five.
You always answered when he called. Every single time. You answered when you were at work. You answered in the middle of the night. You answered when you were taking Tramp for a walk. 
Six... Seven.
And then the line went dead. You had ignored his call. 
-------------------------------
He bought that ring weeks ago. And I don't even know when he managed to sneak the gift into the drawer. And I don't know how they can fix this. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 11
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yesimwriting · 2 months
Note
MA'M I LOVE YOUR BEST FRIEND FELIX WRITINGS BUT MY JEALOUS AND SOFTY SHORT ASS CAN'T HANDLE IT 😭 IM HURTING MYSELF BUT IT HURTS SO GOOD, LIKE IF I WAS BEST FRIEND Y/N ID BE BAWLING MY EYES OUT AFTER SEEING HIM WITH ANOTHER GIRL LIKE- WHY IS ALL OF THIS SO CARDIGAN BY TS CODED-
a/n i love taylor and taylor related angst and i get the jealousy thing,, but i think the thing with bestfriend!felix is that he's so obvious about his priorities that by the time reader can register jealousy,, felix is already there
so here's a drabble
----
Going out tonight wasn't your idea. A week of long lectures and even longer homework had drained you. But Felix wanted to...and you...You wanted to be around Felix.
Maybe Farleigh's comments about you following Felix around like a puppy aren't as exaggerated as they feel when you're sober. Ugh. The thought of Farleigh being right gives that pinch of irritation something to latch onto.
"They have those drinks you like." The voice is clear despite the base of the music that you can still hear from right outside the club. You turn your head away from the group of stragglers hanging around the outdoor bar. "Had. I got the last one."
You grin at Felix, any lingering angst not exactly evaporating into the cool night air, but the shift is enough to make the smile feel unforced. "Lucky."
He's finally within arm's reach, a fact that he takes advantage of immediately. Felix's palm settles against your shoulder, his thumb dragging across your skin. "Extremely." There's a fondness there that chips away at what's left of your irritation. "Here." You take the glass from him. "Sam almost tackled another bar tender to get the last of the simple syrup."
Ironically, the sip that's halfway down your throat seems to lose any hints of sweetness as soon as the words come out of Felix's mouth. You've met Sam, and while you don't dislike her, you're not sure the neutrality is mutual.
It's a fact you don't dwell. Sam's a bottle blonde bar tender who looks like she was born to walk around in low cut tank tops and cut off shorts. Not that her being pretty matters, but there's an edge to her beauty that implies an effortless coolness that doesn't usually meld with who you are. It's no one's fault. You think those types of girls are charming and fun in a way that's somehow even bolder than the friends that you consider wild. It's just never been a mutual admiration.
And Sam's been hanging around Felix a lot lately, showing up at parties, staying later than anyone else besides you. They've gone home together a few times. Felix hasn't said too much about that, but that doesn't indicate anything. You guys don't talk about that kind of stuff. Even best friends as close as you two have boundaries.
Not that it matters if Felix is with someone like Sam. She seems fun and pretty and bold and--the total opposite of you.
That hits you like a thumb jabbing into a bruise. Since when is Felix's constantly rotating door of flings a sore point? When he pawns you off on Farleigh--even when he's not in the mood for you--so he can have a moment in the employee bathroom.
"Y'okay?"
You nod, "Yeah." Felix's eyebrows pinch together, a barely there implication of concern that's almost ignorable beneath the poor lighting. "Everything's just kind of hitting me a little."
He nods, "Do you need to sit?" Felix's hold on your shoulder tightens. "Is that why you came outside?"
"Uh--no." The response feels flat. "I mean--yeah, I wanted some air, but I don't feel sick or anything."
He watches you openly for what feels like its own eternity. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you must not pass the inspection because he frowns. "Okay." As if to validate Felix's attempt at letting your mood go, you bring your glass back to your lips. "You know--if you're not feeling--if you want to go, you can tell me."
"I know." You do know that. Felix has always been good about listening, about wanting to make sure you're comfortable.
You take another sip of your drink. Of course Sam's good at mixing drinks. You can picture her tripping over herself, rushing to grab the nearly empty bottle of syrup and risking making an enemy of a coworker to avoid having to tell Felix no.
Felix takes a step forward, his hand sliding across your back so that his arm can settle around your shoulders. It's instinct to lean into the contact. He's warm in a way that rivals the buzz in your system. "When we do go, we're going to have to go out the back way."
You let your head rest against his side. "Why?"
"Don't think Sam's going to be going out of her way to get me drinks again."
You crane your neck to look up at him, "What? Why?"
His eyes meet yours, and then he's dropping his gaze to the floor. "You have become such a gossip."
A sound that's a combination between a scoff and a laugh tumbles past your lips. "Have not."
"You and Farleigh," Felix continues, "You two always need to ask, always need to have an opinion."
"Not true," you defend weakly, "If I was a gossip I'd talk about how slutty--"
You cut yourself off, regretting your phrasing as soon as the word is out. Felix pulls back slightly, mouth falling open in exaggerated offense. "You called me a slut?"
"No," you defend yourself through a laugh, "I was saying that you have been slutty." Felix raises his eyebrows at you. "It's different." Felix's eyes narrow in an attempt to offset the smile tugging at his lips. "It is."
"Yeah?" He leans forward with no warning, his lips pressing against your cheek. That kiss is followed by another. Again and again, each more affectionate and touchy than the last.
His lips brush against your jaw. "Fe-lix." It wants to be a warning, but the nervous giggle that breaks his name into two makes coming off as threatening impossible.
"What?" He hums, his lips finding your neck. "If I'm that slutty, we should have a go at it."
You laugh, ignoring the heat burning its way up your neck because it's just Felix. "There's a bathroom inside."
Felix stills before pulling away enough to look you in the eye. There's the faintest flush tinging his skin. You laugh again, this time the sound fuller. It's nice to see flashes of the softer side of Felix while out in the real world. Felix laughs with you.
You tilt your head, pressing a kiss against his cheek. "For you, I'd spring for a hotel room."
"Now I feel special."
----
taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny
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purinfelix · 5 months
Note
joao x reader angst based off of that song Nothings New by Rio Romeo. Like maybe Joao is always ignoring reader in public or smthn. 🤭
nothing's new.
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pairing: joao felix x reader (established relationship) summary: in which you learn dating a famous footballer comes with the price of secrecy warnings: angst, toxic relationships w/c: 790
a/n: ANONNN this request really hit me idk like it single-handedly brought my motivation to write back because even though it pains me, writing angst is just too fun sometimes .... its a little short but i hope you enjoy !!!
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Before Joao, you had had an ex-boyfriend who, despite being nowhere near as famous, insisted on keeping you his little secret. Most of your ‘dates’ had consisted of you sneaking in through his bedroom window or accompanying him on weekly boy's nights which left you feeling uncomfortable at best and totally invisible at worst. Your relationship, if you could even call it that, was a part of your life you were glad was over. 
Telling Joao about this hadn’t been easy, but you had seen it as an obstacle to overcome as early on in your budding relationship as possible. And you had always planned to have a mature, serious conversation with him about it - but that was before it came slipping out one evening after multiple glasses of wine and several vodka cruisers. The two of you were sharing stories of awkward first dates, childhood crushes and all other things a young couple likes to get off of their chests over a dinner date, but before you realised it he was helping you stumble back to your apartment. 
You had thrown yourself onto your couch, chest heaving as you felt a heat radiating from your flushed face. Hands gently gripped at your ankles and you leant forward to see your boyfriend trying his best to take your shoes off for you whilst you tried your best to sit upright. 
“And he had the audacity to make it seem like my fault!” you mumbled, words slurring as your hand waved about angrily. 
“What an asshole,” Joao’s voice came from somewhere behind you now, probably as he was putting away your shoes by the front door. Even through your drunken haze you could hear the sincerity and sympathy in his tone, as you reached out a hand in his direction. 
“Well, there’s a reason I broke up with him,” you laugh weakly even though there’s no joke in your words. You hear the sound of his feet padding back over to the couch and suddenly his warm hand is in yours, caressing the back of it with his thumb. Even through your half-lidded gaze you can make out his eyes, which only look back at you with an earnest expression as he speaks. 
“I don’t understand how anyone could treat you like that.” 
It’s been months since then but his words still echo in your head now, as you make yet another unsuccessful attempt to reach out for his hand as he walks ahead of you. Not so ahead that you can’t keep up, but just enough that any onlookers and paparazzi can apss the two of you off as mere acquaintances, and not a couple. 
His hand dangles by his side and you yearn for nothing more than to take it in yours, the way you did that night and the way you still do most nights - but you have to remind yourself that most of these nights you spend in the privacy of your own home with your boyfriend. Because when you’re out, in the public eye, he stops being your boyfriend and becomes Joao Felix, beloved and renowned footballer who has yet to announce a romantic relationship to the public. 
You can’t remember exactly when it started being like this, but if you had to you’d put it sometime around the start of the most recent football season. It wasn’t like he had told you that your relationship would have to stay a secret explicitly, because he had all the implications in the world to do that with. He’d talk about other footballers and their relationships and constantly quote his agents advice of “not flaunting a relationship if he wasn’t absolutely sure it would last”. 
It hurt. There was no denying it. Watching your boyfriend oscilate between the most loving person you knew and treating you like a total stranger, and trying your best not to overthink how he played the role of a disinterested stranger a little too well. And it had taken you some time to get over the idea that maybe if you had been more famous it wouldn’t have to be like this. 
But still, you lived for those times, in the privacy of your own home, when your boyfriend would return. When you would be allowed to wear his jersey, his shirt, his arm around your shoulder and not feel immense guilt about it. When he would whisper sweet nothings as apologies, and kiss you like he meant it a thousand times over. When he would show his love to you like he had nothing left to lose, and your relationship felt real again. 
You could only wait and hope for a day when you weren’t the only one who knew about it.
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atrirose · 2 years
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🦢 ° — CALLING ENHYPEN PRETTY BOY
˖ ft. enha members | g. fluff ˖ warning. f!reader , none | theme. sfw , headcanon | TIKTOK SERIES
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# . — HEESEUNG : "what? repeat what you said" did not believe his ear, did you really call him that "I said can you pass me the remote pretty boy" shook, speechless, will cry any minute, you took mental note to call him pretty boy everytime you talk to him, its a must, he needs to hear it more, he deserves it. no one should make him feel otherwise, protect this boi :(.
# . — JAY : "what are you doing my pretty boy" not surprised, barely had any reactions but his inner self is screaming, jumping, rolling, silding down the wall, "nothing much just working on this song, about you" now its your time to get excited but yours is visible, you shake him asking more about the song "wait what really jay, tell me more about it-" — "its pretty boy" he pulls you on his lap as he shows you his notepad "it really got to your head didn't it?" you said "your fault" .
# . — JAKE : "hi pretty boy" that was a mistake in a sense, firstly he choked on the ramen he was eating and secondly you think he is not breathing, just looking at you with big eyes "wow jake you are so dramatic" walks towards you as he sits himself down and rubs his cheeks on yours "yeah maybe! but that just made me happiest man for the next 10 no 100 years" he is quite vocal about it and it made you embarrassed "call me that infront of the members okay?" he smiled as you buried your face in his chest "its embarrassing" squeezes you in a tight hug "no its not hehe, im sure they will be jealous"
# . — SUNGHOON : "YN ! HOW DO I LOOK?" he was excited it was your 1st anniversary and he did his best to do his hair and put on his best clothes "you always look good, pretty boy" he brushed his hands across the table to find the perfume he bought "yeah and- wait what? what did say?" looks at you with a serious face "you look good, my pretty boy?" you almost thought you offended him until you saw him blushing and hiding his face "yn im already madly in love with you. how much more do you want me to fall" you smiled at his behavior "insanely"
# . — SUNOO : "yn can you please hurry up, we are not going for pairs fashion week, its just THE MALL" he said frowning with a very kissable pout which you did peck as you got of the bathroom after your millionth try of making your eyeliner symmetrical "lets go pretty boy" you said as you took his hand "pretty boy?" would not let it slide, respectfuly asks you to NEVER call him sunoo because its only pretty boy from now on "I guess I will let you slide this one time but hurry up next time"
# . — JUNGWON : "did you eat it" jungwon stood infront of you towering you "eat what? pretty boy" there goes his attempt to intimate you, yes you did eat his precious curry he saved, which he physically defended against jay "yn you can't do that" squats down and hids his face "do want?" you asked tickling his ears, he brushed your hands off lightly "say things that make me nervous-" you know he likes it but apperently you have to make fun of him "so you don't like it?" looks at you with a panic look "no no i did not say that, I mean I like it, I was- yeah keep calling me that" the curry was completely forgotten as you survived once again.
# . — NIKI : "hi pretty boy" looks at you with most horrid reaction "what..?" you repeat yourself for him to spourt nonsense "you can't say that shhh!! what if someone hear you" you almost want to slap him "and what about it-" — "iT HURTS MY MANLINESS" bro was 💀 "niki shut up or I will really hurt your 'manliness' ye" he can't be serious right now "call me handsome bruh" smirks for no reason "pretty boy" then you guys went on arguing until you came to the deal that calling him pretty was only to be done private
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AN. I'm sorry I'm really inactive and haven't answered any asks but I wanted to write this 😔 also I would get butterflies even if I utter the word pretty for anyone, but just on that note you all are beautiful, and im proud of you, keep going 💖💖
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pjo episode four parts that made me scream
Them starting with sally trying teach percy how to swim and percy being scared is fantastic for two reasons: number one, its a normal kid thing and number two it ties into later in the books when we find out percy has a fear of drowning. Its like hoe thalia has a fear of heights and kind of ties into the idea that forbidden children are often afraid of some part of their parents element. I love that theyre bringing in elements of that idea so early!!!
percy’s “can i ask a stupid question” and annabeths “are you trying to make me make fun of you” akdbdkbaaksbdkjsbakks shes so funny
I LOVE THAT THEY BRING UP PAN AND SPECIFICALLY TIE HIM TO MANIFEST DESTINY AND AMERICAS HISTORY OF KILLING ITS INDIGENOUS PEOPLE!!!! ITS IMPORTANT FUCKING HISTORY AND IM SO GLAD THE SHOW ACKNOWLEDGED IT
percy and annabeths little banter, percys stupid accent and then him collapsing on her. That and the scene where theyre talking on the train is the percabeth we deserve!!!!!! God i love them so much
ALSO going back to the scene where theyre talking in bed on the train i love how annabeth knows that grovers grumpy in the morning and percy doesnt. Grover was her protector once too!! (Like they said last episode) and theyve traveled together before!! He was annabeths friend before he was percys
ok everyones already said this but the parallels between annabeth and medusa?!!??? With medusa saying “i was you” last episode and now annabeth getting punished for something percy did ghe same was medusa was punished for something Poseidon did????? Absolutely insane i love it
also the fact that it hurt athenas pride specifically, much like how medusa mentioned the “pride of athena” in reference to annabeth last episode, which all ties back to the fact that hubris is annabeths fatal flaw and she gets it from her mother
THE CUT TO PERCY IN THE FOUNTAIN AND THEM SPLASHING WATER ON HIM AHSKSBJAHAJSJSB theyre so funny for that
Percy just looks like a wet rag this episode and its so well done you can even tell the makeup on his face was done to make him appear paler and sicklier and it works so well
ok PERCY PULLING ANNABETH INTO THE STAIRWELL AND SHUTTING THE DOOR???? Because hes loyal to a fault!!!! And theyre becoming friends!!!!!!!!! And he cares about her more in like a week than athena ever has and its shown to us so clearly in this episode!!!!!!
ONCE AGAIN LUKES MOTIVATIONS ARE GOING TO MAKE SO MUCH SENSE BY THE TIME WE GET TO THE END OF THIS AND WE DONT EVEN HAVE TO SPEND TIME WITH HIM TO UNDERSTAND THEM god this series is so well done
Also the chimeras design looks so cool i love it so much
AND WE FINALLY GET AN ANSWER AS TO HOW PERCY GOT IN THE RIVER FROM THE TOP OF THE ARCH!! (At least in the tv world, in the book world the arch might very well just be in a different spot lol)
Poseidon saves him!! Hes a better parent than athena is apparently
god the episode ending with percy breathing underwater is so good i was on the edge of my seat until the very end
OK LAST THING is that they are continuing the theme sally brings up about monsters not always looking like monsters and heroes not always looking like heroes so well!!! Echidna bringing it up and saying that to her, demigods are more dangerous was fantastic i love how dedicated they are to this
OK ACTUALLY THE LAST THING i love the dichotomy of different mothers in this episode. We start with sally and percy and immediately see how much they love each other and care about each other!!!! Then we get to echidna who cares about her children too by teaching them to hunt!!! And then we get athena who ducking punishes annabeth for something she didnt even do. And its like. That was a little monstrous athena. Im understanding why someone might want to kill their godly parent
GOD THIS SERIES IS SO GOOD
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4everhyucks · 1 year
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NOXIOUS — teaser
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PAIRING. na jaemin x fem!reader
GENRE. smut, slight angst, college au
WORD COUNT. tba, most likely to be around 7k?
SYNOPSIS. jaemin is your best friend.. that’s what you would introduce him as. everything between the both of you changed in the blink of an eye. the once sweet and caring friend was gone, all that’s left is someone you could barely recognise.
— send in an ask or reply to be added into the taglist.
after greeting johnny, he takes a puff of his joint as he starts rambling about what happened earlier. something related to drunk haechan pushing renjun into the pool along with his girlfriend, which results in mark laughing really loudly, saying he wishes he was there to witness it in person.
while listening in on the funny stories they both had to share, you spot the boy that you have been desperately trying to search for by the stairs, avoiding your gaze when your eyes lands on him. you hesitate for a moment before leaving mark and johnny without any explanation.
now you’re confident that jaemin is in fact avoiding you because you see him walk off after making eye contact with you. you start to pick up your pace, catching up to him, grabbing onto the end of his sleeve. you say his name, loud enough for him to hear you, “please just tell me what’s wrong.. talk to me.”
“let go.” he says sternly, not even turning around to look at you.
you sigh, trudging to stand in front of him, fingers still lingering on his sleeve. “no seriously what’s your problem jaem? you’ve been avoiding me after the hangout, leaving me on seen and now you’re not even talking to me,” you glare at him, clearly annoyed by how he’s been treating you today. you didn’t want to admit it but you’re sad too, wondering what you did for him to act like this.
jaemin scoffs, “what’s my problem? i didn’t know we had a problem to begin with,” he knows he shouldn’t be giving you the silent treatment or being an asshole in general when its his own problem to begin with, it never was your fault. the way this conversation could probably end the friendship didn’t even pop up in his mind at all until he blurted, “why don’t you go back to being the whore you were huh? isn’t that all you’re good for?“
the loud party music that blasted throughout the place was all you could hear ever since you stepped in the house, but everything get blocks out when you hear those words come out of jaemin’s mouth. sometimes jaemin could be mean, very mean. but he knew his limits, your limits. there’s ringing in your ears, tears pooling your eyes. you wouldn’t categorise yourself as weak, or sensitive. but when it came down to jaemin, you always felt twice the amount of what you would normally feel. you were twice as happy when you’re having fun with him, singing karaoke, playing in the arcade, dyeing each other’s hair. you were twice as angry when he pissed you off, the multiple times he picked you up extremely late when you were in a hurry for your part-time job but then again he means so much to you, you always forgave him when he apologised.
now he had hurt you twice as much. you wonder why his words stung so much, this wasn’t the first time he called you a whore, maybe because he didn’t look like he was joking. you pray that when you lift your head up to look at him you would be met with a jaemin that’s smirking at you, telling you he was just kidding. only you don’t. you don’t see any sparkle in his eyes like they usually do, they’re dark and he’s not smiling.
you blinked the tears away, trying your best to not seem frail, going quiet before cursing at him, “…fuck you jaemin.”
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luna0713hunter · 1 month
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Hellooo~
I just found your blog rn and I immediately fell in love with your works(especially sukuna ffs).
I love the way you write sukuna and reader's relationship.
And if ur ok with it, may I request a sukuna x reader angst? Maybe where reader is a sorcerer and she got badly injured and got into a almost death situation during a fight and sukuna is smh guilty for it??
You can ignore this if u want to<3
-🍪
Author's note : Hi hi ( ꈍᴗꈍ)oh my gosh im so happy to hear that!!!thank you so much darling!it makes me super happy
Mhm,i love the smell of fresh angst with happy ending in the midnight lmao. I'll gladly write it!! Hope you enjoy this,Cookie-chan!
Warnings : Sukuna Sorcerer au!,angst,injury and blood,happy ending!
*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘
You knew this would happen,and you were happy to rub it in your idiot boyfriend's face with a big "i told you so."
That is,if you make it out alive.
The curse before you lets out a loud noise, something akin to cackle,as it watches you with it's multiple eyes. You glare,but even you know it's lost all heat;with blood oozing out of each part of your body,you can barely even keep your eyes open. Your body feels weak,and all of your joints hurt like hell. Your eyes drift to where you broken phone is laying and you just hope that your help signal has gone through before it was damage for good.
"ah," you mumble as you spit a mouthful of blood on the ground below; watching as it drips down on your hands, "today sucks. Its all Ryo's fault."
Your hazy eyes turn up and you watch as the curse dances around;each one of it's disgusting eye spinning around wildly as it looks at you with glee.
The son of a bitch is having fun killing you.
"you're lucky, y'know," you giggle slightly from how slurred your words sound; the blood lose making you lightheaded, "If Ryo was here,he would've torn you to pieces. But, he's an idiot."
Because he really was; starting that morning with the message from the higher ups about your new mission, you had told Sukuna that it would end badly. You had told him more than twice that something smelled fishy;that the higher ups were out to get you. But Sukuna,had dismissed your worry,and with a small scoff had said you're paranoid. At least,now with you dead,he would be proven wrong.
You grin maniacally at the thought;serves him right.
Leaning your back against the tree,you watch with bleary eyes as the curse steps closer;you dont even care. You're too tired to fight back. So you just sit there, thinking about all the things you'll miss;your friends and family,that one bakery with those delicious coconut buns,your boyfriend Sukuna,and most of all-
"i never got the chance to hear him say i love you..."
Maybe out of everything, you'll regret not dating your boyfriend sooner.
You're so lost in your thoughts,that you dont notice the sound of the curse has been faded away. And when you hear a small shriek,and hurried footsteps running your way,you just close your eyes and drop your head. You're fully expecting the curse to rip out your heart,when gentle,but frantic hands,take hold of your bloody cheeks and raise your head slightly. With a pained groan,you open your eyes just enough to see a heap of pink,and a familiar pair of red eyes.
"Ryo...?"
"yeah,yeah babe. Its me," his voice is steady,like always,but you can hear a small undertone of worry and it brings a smile to your lips.
"told ya..."
The hands on your cheeks rub at the corner of your lips to wipe away the blood.
"yeah,i know. And I'm an ass for not believing you." You feel yourself shift,and with foggy mind, realize he has lifted you up in his arms, "I'll make it up to you. Promise."
You giggle and rub your head against his chest;his scent already soothing your mind.
"can i have those sweet buns then?with hot chocolate?"
"whatever you want. First, let's get you fixed up yeah?"
You mumble your agreement and close your eyes. And when you wake up the next time,its to a tray full of your favorite sweet buns and a warm mug of hot chocolate.
Your boyfriend embraces you tightly,and kisses your forehead.
"i love you."
And maybe getting almost killed,was worth it after all.
*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘
P.S : I love coconut buns and im currently craving some so i had to add them lmao.
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farfromstrange · 5 months
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Do No Harm
CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader
Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.
Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.
Word Count: 4.3k
A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!
Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3
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Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.
He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 
Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.
Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.
Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 
He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 
It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 
He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 
Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 
It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”
He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 
The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.
The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.
Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.
He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.
The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 
Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.
Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.
Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.
The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 
A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.
Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.
The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.
That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.
Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.
The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.
“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.
Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”
You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.
You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.
Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.
Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.
“Do you need something?” you ask him. 
He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.
Your eyebrows raise slightly.
“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.
The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”
“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”
“No. Don’t.”
Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 
You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 
“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”
Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.
His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 
You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”
Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 
Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 
“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.
He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.
“Olivia,” you say. 
Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.
“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.
You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.
You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 
“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  
“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.
“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”
A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”
“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”
“You work here?” he dares to ask. 
You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”
“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”
Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.
You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.
He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”
“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”
“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.
“Yeah, something like that.”
Your eyes roam over him once again.
He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 
You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 
“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”
He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 
“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 
Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 
That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 
“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”
He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”
“Sorry?”
“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”
You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 
Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 
“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”
That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 
The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?
You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”
Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 
Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 
“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 
Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”
You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.
He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.
You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended,” Matt says.
You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 
“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 
He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”
Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.
“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”
“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 
Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  
He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.
“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”
“Oh?”
“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”
You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”
Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.
“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”
“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”
“You think that would end my career?”
“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”
Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”
He joins in. “Anytime.” 
For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 
Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 
“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”
“An accident?”
“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”
“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 
Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 
You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 
But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 
“It’s fine,” he assures you. 
You nod. “I believe you.”
You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.
“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”
His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.
“Can I fix it?"
He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”
“Please.” 
There is no arguing with you, it seems.
Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 
“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”
“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 
“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”
Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”
He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 
You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.
“Sorry,” you murmur.
Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”
That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 
As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 
Yet.
You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.
“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”
Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 
“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.
The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.
You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Go. Save a life!”
You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 
Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 
“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”
His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 
“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 
Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.
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pleasingforharry · 11 months
Text
Take the Hint, Boss
SUMMARY: Her boss really likes her. She’s not so sure about it. Maybe she wants him to stop, maybe she doesn’t. She wishes she knew. 
WORD COUNT: 3.2k
WARNINGS: None.
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help this idea just randomly popped in my head
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ass-boss: Dinner with me tonight. Okay?
me: no
ass-boss: Yes.
me: youre my boss. dont be stupid
ass-boss: Don't be difficult, woman.
me: im going out
ass-boss: You don't go out.
me: ever since you put your number in my phone and text me to have dinner with you, i do
He typed up a response, but I didn’t look, stuffing my phone in my clutch. For the sake of both of us, I ignored it. He simply didn’t get it.
Stacey and Gia wouldn't stop texting me throughout the week. The only reason I went out with them instead of staying at the office to work—like I direly needed to do right now—was because they would've just dragged me by the ear themselves.
"Y/N, you work too damn much. It's hurtful, and quite exhausting to watch you burn yourself to the ground," Stacey said sincerely on the ride there. We took an Uber because, apparently, we were all getting shitface drunk tonight. Exciting. "I should have a word with your boss. He's the reason you're only getting like four hours of sleep."
"It isn't his fault, Stace. I have control over how much work I do. If I wanted to, I could easily split it with someone else."
Gia, on my other side, cut in. "Yeah, but you're a perfectionist and won't share."
"Sue me?" I laughed with exasperation. Gia rolled her eyes, her purple eyeshadow glossy from the neon lights shooting by us.
My hair was out, traveling down my back, as Stacey twirled a strand around her finger. "No more talks about work tonight. Okay, girls?" The question was directed to me, but Gia still answered with a loud cheer. The driver glanced at us through the rear-view mirror. I waved apologetically.
My phone pinged again. Fuck, Harry. What the hell? Doesn’t he have to work to do himself? He’s literally the CEO, he’s always busy.
Gia gave me a sideway glance, before smirking. Stacey caught on and laughed theatrically. "Go on, answer him." I huffed and took my phone out of my clutch.
ass-boss: Where are you going out tonight?
me: with friends
ass-boss: Wasn't my question, Y/N.
me: bar
ass-boss: Where?
me: stop.
ass-boss: Answer me.
My phone flipped on its back as I sighed.
"That was hot," Stacey whispered.
"What was?"
Gia spoke first. "It's like a front row view of an enemies to lovers."
"Of course, you would think that," I teased, poking her breast. She bit her lip at me. "It's so entertaining to watch my boss annoy me about my whereabouts when I've made it clear that I don't want to do anything with him."
"It's just dinner," she shrugged.
Stacey leaned forward so we could both see her. “Just make it known that nothing will happen.”
"Yeah, last time it was 'just dinner' because I wasn’t going to let something happen, we ended up having sex.” I cringed at my moment of weakness. “I don't want to mislead him into thinking it'll happen again." I looked down at my phone as it lit up from another text.
ass-boss: When you're ready to go home, you call me. I'll pick you up.
"He's so protective. My boss doesn’t give two shits about me. I hate you," Gia scoffed, flicking my temple.
"He just paranoid that I'll go home with another guy," I corrected her with an annoyed wave.
me: no. dont you have work to do?
ass-boss: I have a dinner to attend to. But my date is being stubborn.
All of a sudden, my phone was snatched away. "Hey!" Gia started texting Harry back.
me: its Y/N's bff. we're gonna out to have a bunch of fun and it would be lovely if you left her alone for the night. thanks babe!
She held the power button down to shut my phone off. "There," she said as she handed it back to me. "It's gonna be an amazing night, okay? No more boss or thoughts about work." I smiled warmly.
"Thank you, G." She leaned in to kiss my cheek, but then quickly wiped it away as her gloss attached.
-
We finally arrived at the club and stumbled out of the car. I had to yank my dress at the hem while also stuffing my breasts back into my push-up bra.
The outfit I wore wasn't picked by me. No, Stacey and Gia completely raided my closet, searching through every corner for the most scandalous dress. I didn’t even remember buying it. But then I remembered, they did.
My heels were high, making me the tallest out of us three. Both girls held an arm of mine as we walked inside. The bouncer nodded his head at us, and Gia cooed with a seductive wave.
"We didn't even get inside. How are you already flirting with guys?" I snorted. She only shrugged.
"It's in my blood." Stacey laughed loudly in agreement.
We managed to push our way to our first spot; the bar. It was in the center of the club, a wide circular counter that seated many. We found three vacant stools and literally hopped on top of them.
The bartender slid over to us with a friendly smile. "Hello, ladies. Welcome. What can I get you started with?" I intended to get a light drink in order to pace myself. Stacey and Gia wanted to get three day hangover drunk, but I had work to do early tomorrow.
Before I could even speak, a hand slapped over my mouth. Stacey placed a long order of drinks, and the bartender nodded and winked at me before stalking away. When Stacey removed her hand from me, I gave her a bored look.
"Are you serious?" I scoffed, pinching her arm. They both laughed and ignored my rhetorical question as they fell into a conversation. I rolled around in my stool to face the club, listening to both my friends and my daydreaming monologue.
I had so much work to catch up on when I got home. If I even got home today. It might be tomorrow. The thought caused my shoulders to tense.
Fuck. Maybe I do need a drink.
-
We've been at the club for at least three hours. Neither Stacey or Gia planned to sneak away with a guy as many approached them for a drink and dance. They promised to stay by my side. But I knew it was only because as soon as I was out of their sight, I'd run home.
Gia walked backwards, holding my hands while Stacey held my shoulders, and the two of them led me to the dance floor. "How are you feeling, babe?" Stacey tugged my shoulders down so she could reach my ear. Her movements were a little rougher than she intended as the drinks added some strength to her.
"Better," I responded.
"Not good enough. I want you to feel amazing and free!" She cheered as we found a spot big enough for all of us to move. We stood in a circle, facing each other, and joining in with everyone as they danced to the music. It was so loud that it pounded in my ears and my chest. My body swayed on its own.
I dragged my hands up my sides and to the air as my hips swung to the beat. Gia howled, her hands grabbing at me. "Yes, yes, and yes, hot stuff!"
Stacey was in her own world, twirling and rolling her body. I noticed she had caught the attention of a guy only a few feet away. She didn't see him as her eyes were fluttered closed. So, I smoothly grabbed her hand and danced with her until she was in front of me. I was in her original spot, blocking his view with my back.
"You need to stop being so attractive," I joked to Stacey. She glanced at me with her dimed blue eyes. They crinkled at the corners as she smiled innocently.
"Can't," She shrugged and went back to dancing.
I scanned the floor again, monitoring creepy eyes that Gia and Stacey were too drunkly unaware of. There were a lot. And for the amount of other women on the dance floor, we were able to pull eyes on us like magnets. It was starting to ruin the vibe.
"Hey, maybe we should go back to the bar," I suggested, wrapping my arms around the both of them. Gia groaned, and Stacey blatantly ignored me. "I'm thirsty, guys. Please."
"Okay, let's go," Gia said, holding onto Stacey as I led the way.
We were able to snag our original spots at the bar, and the bartender approached us. "More drinks or you need me to call you guys an Uber home?" He asked, scooping ice into a glass.
"Drinks!" Stacey yelled, sitting on the middle stool this time. Her arms went around Gia and I. "On me. Shots?" She turned her head to each of us. I shrugged and Gia nodded wildly. The bartender chuckled and walked away to make our drinks.
While we were waiting, Stacey and Gia made loud conversation. I chipped in a few times, but mostly listened. I wasn't tired, just drained.
My hand was engulfed with Stacey’s because she wasn't completely facing me, but still wanted to know I was there. Gia leaned an elbow on the counter when she asked me a question or for my opinion.
We received our drinks and clinked them together, before knocking it down our throats. I cringed at the sting. Stacey always ordered the most outrageous drinks. But they always had a good aftertaste, which made it okay.
Gia was in the middle of adjusting her strapless dress around her breast while Stacey spoke.
"I think their bagels could be better," she was saying. "And that one blue haired girl always puts too much butter."
Gia snapped her finger, before pointing at Stacey. "Oh my god, I know who you're talking about! She—" Her voice trailed off as her eyes wandered behind me.
"What?" Both Stacey and I asked out loud. Gia didn’t answer, but I immediately figured out who she was looking at.
A solid chest pressed against my back. And a blazered arm, fingers encircled in rings, slapped down on the counter by my side. I froze in my spot. Both Stacey and Gia stared dumbfounded at him, jaws agape.
"Found you," a harsh voice, deep with frustration, darkly growled in my ear. His other hand grasped my shoulder and massaged the spot. "Hello, ladies," He said to my friends. Stacey flicked her eyes to me, then back at him. Gia only rolled them and grabbed her drink to slurp it down.
I considered turning around and fuming at him for showing up unannounced. To yell at him because he couldn’t take a hint. But I was at a bar with my best friends rather than at the office working late. They brought me here to let loose and forget about all the papers, the emails, and my hardheaded, but fucking tempting boss.
So, I ignored him.
"Your story, Gia. You weren't finished," I said with a smile, motioning to her. She looked at me with confusion. I widened my eyes and clenched my teeth. She got the message. Stacey did too as she continued our previous conversation.
"So, that blue haired girl. I should go back there and make my own food rather than trust her to do it right," She complained. Gia laughed, and so did I, but it was obvious that it was forced.
He stayed in his spot. His hand on my shoulder trailed down my arm, then to my hip. Fuck. I snatched up my half-filled drink and shot it down. That time, I invited the burn.
"Have you tried their BLT’s? Literal cardboard,” Gia said.
“I mean, how are they still in business?”
I finally spoke. “I think because of me. I actually enjoy their homemade lemonade.” He chuckled, his vibration running up my back. I felt a squeeze to my hip, but I continued to ignore it. Gia went on. My head couldn’t completely focus on what she was saying, though.
The bartender returned. He leaned on the counter. “What are we having next, ladies?” He glanced at Harry for a quick second then at me in question. I just shrugged.
“Just another round of the same,” Stacey told him. “Thanks.” She flashed a charming smile. 
Harry surprisingly wrapped his arm across my collarbones to pull me flush against him. His head was next to mine as he spoke to the bartender. His faint stubble scratched at my eyebrow.
“All the drinks they’ve had and will have, put it on this,” He said, nonchalantly. He flicked out a card and handed it to the bartender. My eyes widened at Stacey and Gia, who gave me the exact reaction back.
“Oh, this is gold,” Stacey sing-songed over the music. “Thanks, Styles.” I assumed he nodded with that blank, dark look he gives everyone. 
Gia smirked at me. “Thanks, H.” I rolled my eyes, resting my head against his shoulder. It was there, so might as well use it. He sighed under his breath and held me tighter.
“I kind of want to dance again,” Stacey groaned, raising her hands up to stretch. “Girls?” She looked at both of us. Just then, our drinks arrived. 
“Yes and yes,” Gia cheered, taking her glass and bringing it closer to us. I took mine and so did Stacey. The bartender apparently made one for Harry too as there was a fourth. He swiftly took it. “To Y/N’s fun night out!” Gia yelled. Stacey laughed and clinked her glass with Gia’s. They both turned to me.
“Thanks, guys.” We smacked our glasses together. Harry had already finished his and left the empty shot on the table.
I drank mine and shivered. Goosebumps trickled up my arms—Harry noticed. “Need my blazer?” He asked, his lips on my ear. Literally. 
Nice try. With a sigh, I ignored his question. He huffed angrily because of it, but still kissed my temple, his lips cold, before straightening up. His arms continued to hold me against him. I was instantly warmed up.
I did my best not to react and give him that satisfaction. I could tell he was getting angsty with me ignoring him. He yearned for attention.
“Okay, we dance!” Stacey grabbed mine and Gia’s hand. “Harry, stay here.” I leapt off my stool, and for the first time, glanced back at him. 
He looked good. I abashedly examined his outfit. It seemed as if he came searching for me right after work. Black blazer, black dress shirt underneath. Tight pants that stretched his long legs. His hair perfectly set, like each strand was placed in a direct spot.
He looked down at me with those dashing green eyes. His face was hard. He was mad at me—who cares—but still had a soft touch that only I could get from him. 
“You can go. You found me, I’m fine,” I told him with my free hand on my hip. Harry only blinked, his face staying unbothered. “What?”
Gia groaned, “Let’s go, Y/N. He’s fine.” Stacey dragged us both away. My eyes stuck on Harry’s, watching him settle on the stool I was on and leaning his elbows back on the counter. His head fell to the side, still hawk eyeing me.
I turned away and followed my friends. We were back in our circle, holding each other—mostly out of protection. Stacey was behind me and had her chin on my shoulder with our hands connected. We raised them up and laughed as I grinded back on her. 
“If your hot boss wasn’t turned on by this, he’d probably march right over and throw me across the floor by my hair,” Stacey said in my ear. Gia was next to her, able to hear, and nodded in agreement.
“I’m trying to hide you from his view, but he still finds away,” Gia complained. “Want us to move farther into the crowd?” I shook my head and continued to dance. 
“Fuck him.”
Gia and Stacey gasped. “There she is!”
Our dancing only lasted another few minutes, before my feet started to throb. Stacey and Gia were spinning each other around as I watched. I couldn’t keep up, so I pushed them together.
“I’m gonna go sit down,” I told them. 
“With Harry?” Gia asked, glancing over my shoulder at him. I shrugged.
“Not with him. He just happens to be over there.” They laughed. “Be prepared to call an Uber if I come back with bloody knuckles.”
“Hot men bring that out of us,” Stacey said. “Completely normal.”
I laughed. “Have fun, ladies.” They wiggled their fingers at me seductively, before grabbing at each other to dance again.
I stumbled as I walked away. My eyes were heavy, but I still caught Harry watching me. He looked more alert now that I was approaching him. He stood up from the stool and met me halfway.
When he was in reach, I wrapped my arms around his neck and fell into him. “Whoa, love. You okay?” I groaned against his chest.
“My feet are killing me,” I whined. “Carry me?” Oh yeah, I was drunk. Harry chuckled, staring down at me amusedly.
“Not in that tiny dress I will. Can’t let all these creeps see what’s mine,” He said, winking at me. I scoffed and dropped my arms from him.
“You ruined it.”
“I’m not wrong.”
“You’re completely wrong that I kind of feel bad.” I brushed past him on my way to the stool. “Sit.” I patted the seat. He followed my orders and did so. I climbed on top of him, sitting on one of his thighs. Both of his hands held my waist, pulling me closer.
He softly stuffed his nose into my neck. “We should’ve went to dinner together,” He whispered.
“Hmmm... what will the building think when I tell them that big, meanie Mr. Styles is obsessing over dinner with some woman?”
“You’re not just some woman,” He said. “And go on and tell them. I’d like someone to say something to me about it.” I smirked at him.
“That was kind of hot.” He gazed at me, longingly, before smiling. “I have so much work to do. I would’ve been stuck in the office if G and Stace didn’t drag me out. Don’t take my rejection so personally.” I patted his hard chest.
Harry sighed and kissed my jaw. “This isn’t the first rejection, though. You’re deliberately avoiding spending time with me.” I finally looked away with a blush. “Is it because we went too fast for you?” 
I thought back to that night. The lovely dinner, supposedly as friends, then the drinks at his house. I promised myself to make sure it didn’t go farther than that. His eyes, his lips, his laugh, his smirk, his cock bulging against the pants he wore. It was enough for me to climb on him like a koala and smash my lips onto his.
I’ve been trying to be distant towards him since then. Harry, on the other hand, was on my ass more than ever. At work, through text while I worked, during my lunch break, during his. 
“I’m leading you on, Mr. Styles,” I whispered. His hands grasped my neck. 
“Look at me, baby.” I don’t. So, he did it for me by nudging my jaw. We met eyes. “Do you want this?”
“It’s not right.”
“Why not?”
I had no excuse. I honestly didn’t know why my head was so convinced that we shouldn’t be together when every other aspect of my body wanted him. So fucking bad. It reacted on its own when he was near. Like now. My fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, pushing his lips on my jaw. He gladly kissed a trail.
“Y/N?”
I sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Harry squeezed me closer to him.
“Another night. But I want to figure us out.” My teeth sunk into my bottom lip. Harry tugged it out just as fast. “Say it. I’m listening, baby.”
“Nope.” I shook my head. 
“You’re stubborn.”
“I know you like it.”
He smirked widely. “I love it.” He kissed my cheek. “But are you okay with this? Me constantly asking?” I shrugged.
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
I nodded. “You get everything you want and everyone bows down to your authority. I don’t, and I’m the only one who can get away with it. I like it.” Harry tilted his head to the side as he took in my words. “You make time just for me, and I can have your undivided attention whenever. I don’t want to abuse this so-called ‘power’ but I like when you want me. No one ever wanted me like this.”
He hummed and looked forward. I watched him. “You’re right. I like your power over me too.” I giggled and held him tighter.
“Is this weird?” I asked to no one in particular. Harry still shook his head. “Keep asking me to dinner, okay?” His eyes lit up.
“Will you agree to go?”
We looked at each other. I slowly smiled. Wickedly.
“Nah.”
We both laughed. Then we kissed. For the rest of the night. 
And then had some dinner.
-
idk just a random idea. had no ending in mind.
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