#Because he screams Puff to me in a lot of ways | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

namfinessed · 1 year

Text

so close - m.yg.

genre: major angst, fluff, second chance romance (13.5k)

summary: words are not enough for people who are so close and so in love, or a fic in which yoongi loses you but will do everything in his power to win you back.

note: writing after so long felt liberating, i hope you feel through my words.

this one is dedicated to my soulmate, @hopefuldreamlove

masterlist

“you know what? i’m done, i’m fucking done with your nonsense, i hope this stupid roof falls on your head!” your screams bounced off the walls loudly as you dragged your bags to the front door, you no longer recognized yourself.

when had it become this bad?

“i hope so too, at least that way i don’t have to hear you scream like a banshee on drugs, just get the fuck out already” yoongi huffs as he matches your vicious tone, but his chest tugs at him, begging him to move and stop you before it was too late, before you actually left and never came back. but his pride was stronger, he wasn’t going to beg you to stay, he was stubborn enough to pretend this didn’t affect him at all.

you don’t respond or even turn back to look at him one last time, you slam the door and trudge your luggage impatiently to the elevator.

yoongi couldn’t move, he watched the front door with pursed lips, he couldn’t believe that after all this time, this was how you two were going down.

he should’ve stopped you; he shakes his head at himself, he shouldn’t have even let the fight get so far, he should’ve stopped the second your voice wavered with unshed tears halfway through the argument but he didn’t, he waited for those tears to turn into simmering anger and yoongi didn’t do anything to make you stay. as always.

that was why you fought in the first place because yoongi had seemingly given up on putting any effort into your relationship.

halfway through the parking lot, you pulled your suitcases behind you with heavy steps, letting out puffs of breath with furrowed eyebrows, and then you paused. your heel stuttering as you narrowed your eyes, your hands loosened around the handles of your bags.

why should you leave?

you both were still owners of that apartment, both of you paid the rent and if you left now, you don’t even have a place to stay and you didn’t want to inconvenience your friends because yoongi was being an asshole, you also didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding a new apartment when you had a perfectly available one right above you (with three bedrooms!).

you smiled wickedly, if yoongi thought he was getting rid of you this easily, he was dead wrong because now, you were determined to make his life hell by living right next to his door and doing everything you could to make him uncomfortable.

yoongi didn’t hate a lot of things, but his personal space was always important to him and you were determined to make that space as worse as it could get and if he had a problem, he could always leave and find another place, he had the money to buy another apartment anyway.

with that happy revenge plan, you walked back to the elevator with a bounce on your step, you couldn’t wait to make yoongi’s life miserable.

yoongi, on the other hand, had been watching the clock since you walked away, it took every fiber of his pride to keep himself on that couch and not run after you but eventually, he knew that he needed you, he couldn’t ignore his sinking chest forever, so he ran to get his car keys, begging and praying silently that you hadn’t gone too far.

he reached for his phone as he made his way to the door, already texting your friends to see if you had gone to them.

imagine his surprise when you slam the door open just as his hand moves towards the door handle, he jumps back with a pounding heart and a rush of emotions fills him.

a mix of relief, remnants of his previous frustration, pure joy, and cockiness fill him as he sees you back in your home, his hands almost grab you into a hug but instead clench into fists and tighten beside his body.

“missed me already?” his lips curl into a smirk and your glare hardens, but you give him the sweetest smile in return, and yoongi’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

you looked furious when you left so, yoongi didn’t understand the smile on your face even if his heart jumped at the smile he hadn’t seen for a while now.

“don’t flatter yourself, min yoongi, i’m not back for you, i’m back for my apartment” you sing to him as you purposefully shove his shoulder on your way in, even running your suitcase on his toes accidentally as you walk past.

he winces and curls to grab his stinging foot, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” yoongi growls, any idea of needing you had left him swiftly as his anger returned with a vengeance.

“oops, sorry, didn’t see your foot there” you tried not to snicker as you said but you still had that shit-eating grin on your face and yoongi huffed, annoyance filling his every crevice.

“okay, what are you doing back here? i clearly remember you hoping that this roof falls on my head, did you come back for it to fall on yours too?” yoongi followed you as you walked to the guest bedroom, his footsteps speeding up to catch your pace but you remained one step ahead.

“you mean, what am i doing in my house? i don’t know yoongi, what do people do in their houses?” your voice was sickeningly sweet and yoongi ran a hand across his face in exasperation, “this is our house, can you stop being sarcastic for one minute and give me a straight answer?”

“as far as i remember and you are free to correct me, both of our names are on the lease, making both of us rightful owners, why would i go anywhere else when i have a home right here?” you level your glare with him as he stares back with an unreadable expression, “are you doing this just to be petty?” yoongi thought you had come back for him but now knowing that you didn’t, filled his chest with a bitter, ugly feeling.

“i have no idea what you are talking about, i am just choosing to live in my house” you shrug your shoulders as you put your clothes into the guest room’s closet, yoongi looks away with furrowed eyebrows, “stop calling it your house, it is our house” your hand paused at the longing in his voice but remembering all the nights you went to bed crying because of him, pushed you to just keep arranging your things.

“it is mine and yours, not ours,” you concluded and yoongi tried to shake off how heavy your words made him feel, “besides, i won’t even be bothering you anymore, think of us as roommates and nothing more until i find a new place.”

“roommates?”

“roommates.”

“you are going to find a new place?” yoongi asks, shifting on his feet, it was strange to see you occupying a different part of the house.

“of course, why would i stay here with you for longer than required?” you planned to just ruin his life for a little while and then leave to a place where you could finally breathe.

you just staying here would ruin it enough, you thought.

“you shouldn’t even be staying here right now” he bit back, masking the ache in his heart with insults he normally wouldn’t even think of uttering but that confirmed it for you that your decision to stay bothered him and that satiated your petty heart.

“if you have a problem with me staying, you can leave and find a new place” you gave him a large, sarcastic grin and yoongi’s eyes further narrowed on you. “i don’t give a fuck about you staying or leaving, just stay out of my way” yoongi mumbled and slammed the guest door shut.

you rolled your eyes as you continued shoving your belongings in place, you couldn’t wait for this lease to be over, just as much as he did.

the lease was supposed to be renewed after three months and you were hoping to find a place by then because as much as you taunted yoongi, you were planning to move out the next chance you get because you couldn’t stay around him and hate yourself for liking him still.

you spent the first two weeks, mostly staying out of home, you couldn’t stand seeing him working all day, even at home. that was why you two had fought and ultimately broken up over, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were hurt that he didn’t even try to change his ways.

your eyes glared at the eggs sizzling in the pan sitting in front of you as your hands tightened impossibly around the spatula you held.

were you supposed to cook eggs with a spatula?

were the eggs supposed to look that dark in color?

was whatever you’re holding, even a spatula?

your head tilted in confusion as you tried to rake your brain for things you learned from cooking shows and let out a sigh of frustration as the eggs you flipped had smoke coming out of them.

you never had to worry about cooking, as busy as yoongi got, he always made sure you at least had leftovers to heat up before he left for work but you would rather plunge yourself on a bed of legos than ask him to make your food.

besides, you could do this yourself, you have done much more difficult things than this in life, a couple of eggs and bread weren’t going to be that hard.

“are you seriously using a scooper?” you heard a low, groggy voice from across the room and you sucked in a breath, face heating up in embarrassment.

so, you weren’t using a spatula after all.

you stiffly nodded and yoongi snickered, “if you need a ride to the hospital after eating whatever you made, i will be happy to take you.”

you turned around with an annoyed huff, “as if you have time for anything besides being holed up in your studio, i will die before you even come and get me.” yoongi’s jaw tightened as you pointed your spatula (scooper) at him, and then, he released a long breath as another grin graced his face, “so, you agree? you agree that you will end up in the hospital after eating this?”

“even if i do, i don’t see how it’s any of your goddamn business, min yoongi, just make your fucking breakfast and don’t be such an insufferable roommate” maybe your words were harsher than needed, but you couldn’t stand being around him and not hurt him, as he had hurt you over the course of the past few weeks.

yoongi didn’t retaliate which only made you feel worse, but you held your chin high in defiance of your own guilt as he did exactly as you told, he kept quiet and made his breakfast.

and of course, he made a huge spread of everything from bagels to smoothies to chocolate pancakes, he put them right in front of you as he sat on the opposite side of the long island table as you stared down at your burnt eggs and bread with a clenched jaw.

for yoongi, work could wait right now but annoying you couldn’t.

“i hope you enjoy your breakfast, y/n, if you can call it that” yoongi gave you his brightest smile yet, the stretch on his face covering the otherwise sarcastic tone “because i know i will enjoy mine” he finished by shoving a forkful of the cream cheese and chicken bagel that he knows is your favorite. he knows how much you loved it when he made it for you after a night full of love and attention.

you glare at him with annoyance crawling up your arms and legs as he lets out a moan of approval at the bite, obviously putting on a show to piss you off more, your mouth waters involuntarily as he chews slowly with nods and loud hums of satisfaction but what finally drives you mad, is when he lifts his head from eating and gives you a cheeky wink.

your hands gripping the table's edge turn white as you forcedly push your body away from the table, abandoning your sad excuse of breakfast and stomping out of the room.

you hate that you can hear yoongi’s sinister laughter even after you slam your door shut.

this is what continues for you both, you accidentally unplug his computers, he accidentally drops juice on you right before you go to work, you accidentally break his speakers, and he accidentally puts your night plushie in the washing machine and reduces it to nothing but a shapeless fluff. the cycle continues, both of you determined to not let the other breathe peacefully, every night you slept while making a plan to destroy his day, and every morning you woke up to execute it.

it was childish, immature but it gave you the satisfaction you craved. seeing his usually passive face become irritated or waking up to his screams of frustration and curses filled you to the brim with joy.

you did start to question why you enjoyed it so much though, sure you wanted to give him hell but the whole process of planning it wasn’t what made you satisfied, it was purely his reaction to it.

“you just want his attention again” your dear friend, jennie, mutters as she glares at you while sipping her bubble tea. you immediately scoff at her; she had no idea what she was talking about.

“no, i want him to suffer” you correct her and she shakes her head at you, putting her drink down and leaning forward with furrowed eyebrows. “i worry about you, you know.”

“why? i’m perfectly fine” you shrug because you don’t see anything that she needs to worry about, you are moving on, you are making yoongi suffer like you wanted to, your work performance is still intact, and everything was smooth sailing. “no, you are not. i thought it was weird that you wanted to stay in the same house as your ex, but i didn’t say anything because you were in a sensitive place then. now, you have to admit that you are delaying staying away from him.”

“i’m staying in a house that i own and that i am paying rent for, it has nothing to do with min yoongi.” you jab a finger on the table as irritation fills you, but you also feel embarrassed? humiliation crawls on your insides as you try to maintain a passive face. jennie’s face softens and she reaches out for your hand, “i know how much he hurt you, don’t punish yourself by thinking you have to prove to anyone that you want to hurt him as he did you. your pain doesn’t need justification.”

you couldn’t sleep that night, all you could think of was jennie’s face as she uttered those words, her gentle hands keeping you anchored to the real world, the world where min yoongi shredded you to pieces without caring or knowing about it. before you know it, you feel tears escape down the side of your eyes and your hand shakily reaches out to muffle your sobs.

why couldn’t you just stop caring?

why couldn’t you up and leave?

what kept you tethered to a relationship that was void before you ever called it off?

and why couldn’t you just fucking stop crying?

you wanted to let your hand go, so yoongi can listen to your wails, to what he’s done to you, the damage he’s caused, the broken pieces that you struggle to pick up, maybe in some sick way, you want him to come and wipe your tears away, maybe you just want him to show up this once, to make up for all the months he didn’t. but you don’t let it go, you hold it tighter against your face because as much as you want him to know, you can’t. you can’t have him find out that your tears were because and for him.

you didn’t have to justify your pain but you did have to prove that you were moving on, so against jennie’s and all your friend’s better judgment, you decided a date night would just be enough to prove that you didn’t care about yoongi or whatever you had with him anymore.

you hummed lightly as you got your favorite dress out, it had an open back and whenever you wore it, yoongi couldn’t stop touchin-

this isn’t about him.

you huff in annoyance at your own thoughts as you lay your dress down on the bed, you are not thinking about him, not today and not ever, today is only about your date, you are going to have a good time, get lightly tipsy, and maybe even have a full-blown make out session if you get drunk enough for it and you will not think of yoongi at all.

you took a deep breath in as you started doing your makeup.

how long has it been since you got ready for a date? at least, a date that didn’t get canceled as soon as you were ready. your makeup brush slows in your hand as your heart starts feeling heavy again. you didn’t bother getting ready for anything if it was not with yoongi even when he canceled, even when he pleaded with you that he would be there and left you hanging.

you gave such little regard for yourself and you feel angry that you didn’t put yourself first, that you didn’t fight him right then and there, you feel irritated that you quenched your needs for as long as he made you wait.

you start getting ready with more aggression after that, you were definitely going to put yourself first now, yoongi gets none of you. you don’t need him for anything anymore.

except for maybe one thing.

you stand in front of the mirror with a scowl, your arms awkwardly bent to try and zip your dress up but your fingers are just out of reach for it, you start to hop awkwardly hoping that somehow hopping around will magically zip your dress up and start to groan in frustration.

“are you auditioning to be a kangaroo?”

you pause with gritted teeth at his amused voice coming from the doorway that you didn’t realize was wide open all this time.

this can’t be happening right now.

“can you fuck off?”

“and you will go out with your zip wide open, got it, i will be taking my leave.” He snickers and starts to head out, only to pause when a whine comes up your throat, you bite your lip to swallow your pride because you don’t want to ask him, but you have no choice.

“yoongi, can y-“

“can i?” he turns around in a flash, leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his face, that you want to slap off.

“can you zip my dress up?” you mumble out in a rush and shift your feet to face him with half your body. yoongi whistles, looking away, acting like he didn’t hear you at all, and your eyes drop into a glare, you can already feel your irritation crawling up your skin.

“you heard me, stop acting like a kid.” you scowl at him as you stomp your foot.

“i did but a ‘please’ would be nice, you know, zipping a dress is tough work and i can’t just hand it out for free.” he was enjoying this way too much but his heart was dipping continuously as he kept looking at you from the corner of his eye.

when was the last time he saw you, all dressed up?

why can’t he remember the last time he took you out?

why can’t he remember the last time he fell asleep and woke up with you?

he clears his throat loudly as he makes his way across the room, your glare stays on yoongi as he approaches you but you don’t miss how his eyes stay downward as he walks with slow steps. you tilt your head in confusion as you push your hair to the side, to let him zip you up.

but he never does.

he stands behind you, looking in the mirror as you hold your hair up, he looks at you through the mirror, and your eyes meet his.

yoongi doesn’t look away.

you don’t look away.

your zip is long but forgotten.

and suddenly, you feel like the room is running out of air for you to breathe in.

you hadn’t been this close to yoongi in so long.

you can’t tell if he’s thinking the same thing, you can’t tell if he’s finding it hard to find air right now too, you can’t tell if his heart is beating as loudly as yours.

but sorrow fills you because, in all these months, yoongi has come this close to you, only to zip the dress that you’re wearing on a date with someone else.

“yoongi.” you whisper, so quietly, so delicately, as if you can’t bear to utter his name but you have to.

“right, zip.” he shakes his head at himself, quickly looking downwards and his hand’s ghost on the skin exposed to him, yoongi is suddenly unsure if he can zip you up or not, he’s unsure if his hands will let him only zip you up, he’s unsure of where that would lead to.

“where are you headed to?” yoongi tries to sound casual as clears his throat and his fingers finally catch the small zip at the dip of your dress, he takes his sweet time dragging it up, his eyes savoring every inch of skin he hasn’t touched.

you hesitate, you don’t want to tell him. actually, maybe you do, maybe you wanted him to know before but after the shift in the very air around you, it feels wrong. “a date.” your answer leaves you in a choke, just as he finishes pulling the zip all the way to the top.

he removes his hands from you like he’s been stung, and he steps back, yoongi doesn’t even breathe as he stands unmoving.

air rushes in your lungs once you notice the conflict in yoongi’s eyes, once you recognize the conflict forming a knot in your stomach and even air seems like too much for you.

the moment is over and you can feel your defenses climbing up too.

you are ready to fight him, you are ready to argue that you both were done, and that what you do with your time is none of his business and it never will be, and that you can kiss, fuck, do whatever you want with whomever you want.

because you two were done.

that statement didn’t feel real until this second. something about the statement felt like the most incorrect thing in the world to yoongi.

but he won’t say it.

he won’t hurt you anymore.

he can’t hurt you anymore.

“have fun.” his words are low, and curt and they fall into the silence around you both in a loud thud as yoongi quickly walks out of the room.

you are left in your dress, with a date you were going to be late to and a heart so heavy, you feel that you will drop it at your doorstep before heading out.

“isn’t that so exciting?” your date beams at you.

he’s cute, well accomplished from what you’re told and he seems interested in you.

you wish you could say the same.

but all your responses to him have been one-line sentences and tight smiles.

along with your pre-existing obsessive thoughts of yoongi and that goddamn zip, guilt bleeds into your system and so does dread.

guilt, because your date is as good as dates come, and he already mentioned that he would be more than willing to take time out for you and that he will be available whenever you want, that the next date will be whenever you are comfortable.

which should excite you.

which should delight you.

it should make you the happiest person in the world that he’s so openly giving you his time even if you are meeting him for the first time, it should make you the happiest that he seems enamored by you, that he wants to know so much about you. your friend had mentioned that this guy had been asking about you for a while and that when she asked, he had jumped in joy at the idea of going on a date with you, this should make you happy.

but it doesn’t, it sits bitterly in your mouth that it doesn’t make you feel a single thing.

you felt a million more flutters, kicks, and tingles in that one-minute yoongi zipped your dress up than you have for the past hour sitting opposite to your date.

dread also, slowly but surely, starts to consume you from the inside out. it scares you that maybe you will never feel all of that with another person, that you have somehow run out of sensation when it comes to someone else, it scares you that this might be forever, that you will never truly move on, that you can ever only pretend to move on.

maybe if someone else touches you.

maybe if someone else feels you.

maybe you have a chance of forgetting the ghost that yoongi left on your skin, maybe if someone else kisses you, you will be able to forget how his lips felt.

maybe if someone else could be exactly like yoongi but not like yoongi at the same time, you can survive this.

there’s no one like yoongi.

and you can’t do this anymore.

you stand up abruptly, your mind too loud to let you sit and listen to one more word that didn’t come from yoongi. your date sits up alarmed, quickly reaching for your hand to ask you what was wrong, to check up on you.

he is touching you.

his hands grip your fingers tightly.

he won’t let go until you do.

there is security in his touch.

but.

nothing.

you feel nothing.

your breathing stills at the realization.

your body doesn’t even bother with his hands on yours, it doesn’t even register that a person is holding your hand, asking if you’re okay. your body hates you.

before you know it, you are rushing out a half-assed apology and running out of the restaurant leaving your date confused and hurt.

you wish you could turn back and tell him you felt the same.

you were confused and hurt too, just for someone else.

a defeated weight held your head down as you walk back to your home.

the home that you share with your ex.

if you were in a better mood, you would maybe laugh at the situation you’ve put yourself in, maybe laugh at how ridiculous all of this is but you can’t bring yourself to even walk without feeling like the world was crashing on you.

yoongi heard your footsteps out in the corridor and he jumps back from the door he had pressed his ear against, running to the couch before you reach the doorknob. and just as the door clicks open, he snuggles himself into the blanket on the couch and evens his breath to pretend like he’s just casually fallen asleep on the sofa with a movie playing.

he wasn’t pacing by the front door a million times, trying to listen in to when you would come back.

he wasn’t going to reach for his car keys and come to find you.

and yoongi definitely didn’t feel the jealousy burning in his throat since the second you walked out for a date with someone else.

yoongi hears a thud and opens his eyes to the smallest amount he can see.

and he sees you.

that dress still takes his breath away.

but he can hear your breathing too.

it’s uneven, rough, and too quick, just like how it always is when you feel overwhelmed or frustrated.

yoongi stiffens in his position, both concern and anger filling him and the blanket slips from his shoulder a little.

was it because of your date?

did he do something to you?

were you alright?

his heart thumps uncomfortably as your step near his figure, he doesn’t know if you can tell that he’s pretending or not.

then you sit right by where he’s laid, on the floor, another defeated sigh leaving your lips, and yoongi wonders of the ways he could kill your date for making you like this.

little did he know, it was because of him.

“i can’t do it, yoongi” you whisper, seemingly to no one even if you use his name like you don’t want him to hear and yoongi confirms that you believe his act.

“i can’t seem to move on” a sad and tired chuckle follows that sentence and yoongi’s skin burns underneath the blanket, he’s never heard you this way. “and i know you have, i know you moved on a long time, long before we ever broke up but i can’t. even if you have, i can’t.” tears build in your eyes as you try to blink them away, you felt ridiculous, talking to him when he was asleep.

but you couldn’t help it, there was so much you wanted to say but you never got the chance to.

“i can’t hate you for moving on, but i can hate our situation for making it so hard for me to move on, i can hate myself for ever loving you, i can hate a lot of things” you nod to yourself, yoongi’s fists curl on his chest, if only he could throw the blanket away and take you in his arms. if only it was that easy.

“i can’t hate you, i can never hate you” you finish, your head falls with the weight of every thought you had.

if only you could tell him this when he wasn’t sleeping, if only he made it easier for you to say it to him.

yoongi’s lips purse, out of all the things he thought you would end the sentence with, that wasn’t one of them.

he was prepared for you to insult him in the vilest way possible.

he was prepared for you to blame him; he was prepared to take the blame.

but he wasn’t prepared for what you said or how you said it.

he wasn’t prepared for the sad kind of joy that filled his heart.

his joy was a paradox, too many faces for him to feel it at all.

you got up, turning the television off and pausing to look at him before you disappeared into your room and prepared yourself for yet another day of pretending to hate him.

yoongi could feel the weight of your gaze on him. he foolishly wonders if his hair is looking okay today, if the pajamas he chose today looked good on him, if he was looking presentable.

he can’t help it, you are standing in your prettiest dress and yoongi knows no one can be more beautiful than you, in that dress, in any dress, or in nothing at all. he only wants to be worthy of you.

then you do something that makes yoongi choke back a long breath.

you tuck his blanket back in place and your hands make quick work to cover his ears sufficiently.

it’s a simple action but it makes yoongi feel everything he did for you when he confessed his crush to you all those years ago.

then you step back and pad away quickly to your room and once your door falls shut, yoongi sits up immediately, breathing heavily.

he buries his head in his hands as frustration and something so similar to grief run through him in waves.

was he really stupid enough to let you go?

why did he feel regret now, when everything was concluded?

why did you have to tell him all of that?

his heart ached, his fingers ached, all of it was for you. and he looks at your door longingly.

you were wrong, yoongi thought. yoongi would die before he ever moved on from you.

and he never really let up a chance to prove you wrong.

at your door, his hand pauses in the middle of knocking when he hears your sobs on the other side.

if someone ripped his heart out, it would probably hurt less than this.

how badly he wanted to break down the door and hug you until your tears became his.

how badly he wished to caress your hair until you fell asleep.

how badly he wished you would fall asleep in his arms.

how badly he wished, against his awareness of the selfish nature of his wish, to see you in that dress one last time.

yoongi could open the door, he could do all of this, he could grant himself everything he wishes for but the door wasn’t the only barrier between you two and he became painfully aware of all the invisible barriers you both held up now.

he can’t just leave and come back when he wants, it wasn’t fair on you.

so, yoongi, regretfully and slowly, takes a step back and disappears into his studio where he catches no sleep.

but hey, he could at least finish a song that night.

that night, yoongi knew he was lying to himself if he said that he didn’t love you anymore. but he was also on thin ice with you, yoongi was going to try his best to stay on the surface.

this would be the last song he would make for a while, he had more important things on his checklist.

the smell of-

was that cream cheese?

your groggy, half-asleep mind somehow registers the waft of bagels and cream cheese in the air, which is enough to pull yourself out of bed.

with tangled hair and puffy eyes, you pad into the kitchen with a narrowed gaze.

of course, it’s yoongi.

you glare at his back which moves constantly to put together a cream cheese and chicken bagel which was, as mentioned, your favorite. usually, you would appreciate this view, usually, you would go give him a back-hug as he cooked for you but you knew it wasn’t for you.

“do you have to torture me like this?” you whine out, and yoongi snickers, his apron tightening around his waist as he turns around to look at you, “good morning to you too, you look bright as ever this morning” he gives you his best smile and you return a sarcastic one.

despite his aloof attitude, yoongi was trembling on the inside because he knows there is no single right way to win you back, he would have to earn it, and he would have to work on it every single day.

but if it was going to take forever to win you back, yoongi would try forever.

you buried your pounding head in your hands as you took a seat at the table, wondering how you were going to cook for yourself again without accidentally setting something or yourself on fire.

then, a glass of water with advil comes into view and you look up to see yoongi immediately backing away to work on breakfast again.

“are you trying to drug me?”

“is it working?”

you can’t help the small smile forming at his amused tone, but you don’t say anything which makes yoongi sigh in failing irritation. “come on, it’s just advil. you don’t need me to drug you, you do that with your cooking every day.”

“geez, thanks for reminding me i’m not freaking gordon ramsay in the kitchen” you continue his banter, somehow, you’re in a good mood even after how terribly last night ended. you go mute when he places a plate filled with your favorite bagel, an omelet, bacon, and even mini jam sandwiches in it.

you just stare at the plate before dragging your gaze to yoongi who turns away once again, this time with a dust of pink on his full cheeks that you catch.

“your side of the table is that way” you point to the opposite side, albeit regretfully because it’s been a while since you have had a proper, not-burnt breakfast, but he must have mistakenly placed this beautiful plate of food in front of you.

it has to be a mistake.

there’s no other reason for yoongi to feed you.

but oh, yoongi’s just so full of surprises.

“that one’s for you.” he shrugs casually as if it was normal to make you breakfast, after he’s only eaten it in front of you for a few weeks.

“what?”

“do you have hearing problems?”

“do you have mental problems?”

“yeah, but a dining table is hardly an appropriate place to discuss those, don’t you think?” maybe it was his flat tone as he said, indicative of his sense of humor, maybe you were just in a more fantastic mood than you had anticipated.

but you burst out laughing. you couldn’t help it; your laughter took over your entire system.

you can’t remember the last time you laughed like that.

yoongi had always managed to make you laugh or smile; this magical ability made you fall for him hard and fast, and after a rough day, he was the reason you at least slept peacefully, when you were together.

when you were together.

right, that wasn’t you two anymore.

that realization slows your laughter to a hesitant chuckle, yoongi wishes he didn’t notice that shift.

"don’t try to cook ever again if you want this roof over our head.” he jokes again as he sits down on his side of the table, suddenly the table seems too long to him and he hopes you’ll laugh again.

"are you saying you'll kick me out?" you dramatically gasp at him with an undeniable smile on your face.

it’s all right, yoongi will take a smile too.

"I’m saying you'll burn it down.” he continues with a playful whine that has you giggling again, swinging your legs under the table, a true indicator of your happiness in that minute which yoongi doesn’t miss.

“don’t you have work today?” you ask, finally digging into your food as yoongi does to his.

god, that’s good.

you swear his hands are magic.

“i took the day off” yoongi shrugs again, the second time he’s shrugging over things that aren’t half as casual as he makes them seem.

as long as you know, yoongi only ever took one day off, which was on your first anniversary.

he was always late to the other anniversaries.

you try not to think of that now, especially when both of you were in a civil mood.

“why, are you sick or something?” though concern fills you, you don’t let it show as you stuff your mouth.

“nope, just like that.” you hum in reply with poorly contained surprise.

“i don’t have work today either.” you don’t know why you tell him but you do.

“i know.”

“okay.”

you feel embarrassed at the disappointment that filled you when he didn’t say anything about it, what did you expect he was going to do, ask you for a date? if he wanted to, he would have done it when you were together.

“do you want to watch a movie?”

you almost drop your fork.

yoongi is surely full of surprises because you don’t even process his request for a second.

“what?”

“do you really have hearing problems?”

“no, i just didn’t quite catch what you said. are you asking me to watch a movie with you?” you repeat his words in disbelief, the plate of food that you loved so much, completely forgotten on the table.

“yes, that is what i said.” he confirms and you tilt your head in suspicion that yoongi notices too quickly which causes him to rush out, “as roommates.” it pains him to say it but he can’t come up with anything else to convince you.

“as roommates?” your confusion only grows.

“as roommates.”

“but why?” you can’t help but ask.

“just think of it as me trying not to be an insufferable roommate” he offers his explanation and in theory, in practicality, it makes perfect sense.

but both of you know it’s not that simple.

nevertheless, you don’t pry anymore.

yoongi’s shoulders fall in defeat when you don’t agree or deny, he just watches you continue to eat his food with furrowed eyebrows.

he took it too far, he should’ve stopped with breakfast today and tried to convince you to a movie another day, when you’ve warmed up more to him. you are probably still stuck in whatever happened last night and want your space.

“there’s this new horror one i saw on instagram the other day, i must have the link somewhere, i’ll put it on in a bit.” you look away with heated cheeks as you struggle to swallow your food.

oh.

you just agreed to the movie.

yoongi believes he could fly.

“man, this is not as scary as everyone said it was” you complain through a mouthful of popcorn, and yoongi nods in agreement, stuffing his face with a handful of popcorn too.

“by the way” yoongi sits up after hours of slouching on the couch and you signal for him to continue. “how did your date go yesterday?” he mutters, as casually as he could, reaching for more popcorn to avoid the tension surrounding the question.

last night comes back in flashes, your cute date, running away from the cute date, coming home to yoongi and confessing you would never get over him, covering him with a blanket and crying yourself to sleep.

shit, did he hear you?

“it went well, i came home pretty late though.” the lie tumbles out of you in lack of a better response.

yoongi knows you’re lying but he’s happy to play along with you because last night did a number on him too.

“glad to know it went well. i wouldn’t know when you came, i fell asleep watching some documentary” he munches on his popcorn loudly, he misses the error in his lie.

he wasn’t watching a documentary.

he was watching ‘finding nemo’.

and you know that because you were the one who shut the tv off.

you know that he’s lying. but instead of confronting him about that and that possibly leading to a conversation about what you uttered into the night, thinking he was asleep, wasn’t a risk you were willing to take.

“right, i did see you asleep.”

and i poured my heart out, right next to you.

yoongi in unaware his lie is caught; you prefer that he stays unaware. because if anything you said last night is what prompted him to act the way he did today, you are glad it didn’t all go to waste.

“we should sleep” he slouches back on the couch, too close to you, he’s hyperaware of your arms pressing against his but now that he’s already fallen back, he can’t quite get up as easily anymore.

he doesn’t want to get up.

“we should.” you agree.

neither of you moves a single inch.

laughter explodes into the room at that, both of your heads falling to the side to look at each other with squinted eyes full of happiness.

but when the laughter dies down and you are left to catch your breath, you are suddenly too aware of yoongi’s face being so close to yours, you don’t move away.

yoongi knows you know that you two are far too close.

he doesn’t move away either.

you start to lean in, your body is on autopilot as your hands sneak up to sit on the top of his knee, yoongi shudders from your touch.

how long had he gone without it?

how had he survived for so long?

how did his heart continue to beat without yours in his hands?

he panics internally as his hands come up to grab onto the sides of your face, like he won’t let go, like letting you go once was enough pain for him.

and when your lips touch, every bit of control you had left on your body evaporates into the air around you, you are grabbing his hair, and he is pulling you closer, and not once do you stop to take a breath.

because you know that when this moment is over, both of you won’t speak a word about it.

you can’t remember the last time yoongi kissed you this way, like his hands would disappear if they weren’t holding you, like his entire life purpose was to take your breath away and never give it back, like every part of him had been aching to do this.

and then it does end, painfully, too slowly, you pull away before your chest burns away, he pulls away because he has to.

you were right.

you don’t speak a word about it.

there was no ‘good night’ after that, there was no ‘see you later’, there was nothing left in that moment except the hope stored away in yoongi’s eyes. you pretend you don’t notice it as you, once again, eat the food he makes you in the morning.

yoongi knows he has to say sorry though, he hadn’t planned on that happening, he was just another lucky idiot that night, he was aware enough to know it wasn’t right for two to do that even if you’ve been together for years.

things were different and yoongi always hated change but he had to overcome this change instead of walking away from it, if he wanted to even dream of having you back.

so, he is the one who starts the uncomfortable conversation that you’d been anxiously waiting for.

“about last night-“

“you don’t have to worry about it.” you answer, as quick as lighting, and you even surprise yourself with your speed.

“oh?” yoongi raises an eyebrow at you.

what the fuck was he supposed to understand from that?

“come on yoongi, it’s not like we haven’t done it before” your chuckle following your words, is uncomfortable, tight, and completely unnatural.

“right” yoongi drawls, still not quite getting what you were hinting at.

were you okay with it?

were you not?

would he just have to kiss you again to find out?

“it was just a mistake, it happens, it’s not a big deal, i’m still moving out, you are still very much in love with your career, we don’t have to discuss it anymore” you eat as you speak, trying to bury the longing and bitterness in your voice with cold cereal.

so, that is what you meant.

yoongi doesn’t reply as his head stays down, he gets up soon after, cleaning up after himself and you, he doesn’t speak a single word or spare you a glance and disappears into his studio.

you are all too familiar with this scene.

you only watch as he does all this, you wouldn’t admit to another living soul that your heart grew heavier than it had ever been and that your chest felt tight enough to snap.

yoongi angrily walks around his studio, you could think it was a mistake but yoongi would break his computer before calling it a mistake.

but he realized he still had a long way to go.

yoongi had to be patient, he had no other choice.

but he doesn’t realize every second he goes by without telling you what was weighing on his heart, was another second your already dying hope vanished.

he can’t help but think back on the day he overheard you talking to your friend about your relationship, he subconsciously never really let go of that day, that day, he concluded that it was out of yoongi’s hands to do anything.

“i can’t believe you called, it’s been way too long” he heard your sigh of happiness outside the door, and yoongi paused, he doesn’t exactly know why he stayed to listen but he does.

your relationship, by then, had already been on the rocks, but neither of you acknowledged it.

“i wasn’t going to call, but rumi was telling me you were on a date with a certain someone” your friend sang from the other side of the speaker, clearly trying to tease you but you don’t say anything to that.

yoongi knows why you went silent, making him dig his heels deeper and listen closely to see what you would say.

“yeah, about that” you let out a hesitant chuckle, your voice struggling to keep your cheery tone. “hey, you good? what happened?” your friend’s concern was palpable and yoongi almost scoffed at her, he cared about you too, it wasn’t just her.

but yoongi couldn’t deny the weeks you both had gone without so much as exchanging a proper conversation.

yoongi would never take the blame for it, though.

“we didn’t end up going” yoongi peeks through the door to see your face turned away from the camera and he hated that he noticed the pain etched in your furrowed eyebrows. your friend stayed silent at your simple, but heavy answer, she could tell this wasn’t the first time it happened.

“but today is your anniversary?”

“it is.” you agree with a gulp, still refusing to meet her gaze.

“how long has this been going on?” her voice comes softly, so softly that your chin starts to wobble.

“nothing’s been going on, yoongi and i are fine.” you wanted to believe your words but anyone with two eyes and ears could see nothing was fine with you two.

“is that what you are telling yourself?”

“what else am i supposed to do?” your glare turns sharp and angry, you were fed up with everyone coddling you, you felt claustrophobic enough when you were with yourself.

“you know, if you want to cry, you can. none of us would judge you, you know that very well.” she tries to comfort you and yoongi’s breath turns impatient.

why was she trying so hard to convince you something was wrong, when you were telling her that everything was fine?

why did yoongi feel like she was trying to start a fight?

why did yoongi, a small part of him, feel like a fight was inevitable?

“there’s nothing to cry about, my boyfriend is just busy for an anniversary that might come again, it isn’t as important as what he does.” as you say it, a dread falls over both you and yoongi that there might not be another anniversary.

his heart free falls to his feet.

he had been busy; he wasn’t lying about that but yoongi hadn’t checked on you all this while. he can’t remember how many dates he canceled.

but that wasn’t his fault, that was life, that was his life and you knew about his life before you entered it.

it couldn’t be yoongi’s fault, it had to be yours.

yoongi’s eyebrows scrunch in bitterness at the defeat in your voice, at the absurdity of the situation he never thought you two would have to be in, at the world for keeping you apart.

he looks away just when your sobs break the silence in the room.

“i thought i couldn’t breathe without yoongi, but i am, i am living many days without him, with only glances of him, i am living and breathing.” yoongi’s head leaves the doorway before you finish your sentence. if you wanted to live without him, he would let you go, he didn’t need you to stay out of pity.

“but it all hurts, and i don’t want to do any of that without him” is what he fails to catch in his anger.

yoongi looks back at the day mournfully now, he should’ve taken you out right then and there, he shouldn’t have given up just because it seemed like you did, his head falls in his hands as he rakes his hands through his hair in agitated motions.

he wasn’t sure if he could win you back.

but he wasn’t going to give up, he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

your days continued, as usual, he made you breakfast and packed you lunch, did your laundry and set them aside, he made sure you ate after you got off work and you both watched a movie or listened to songs together, or anything at all, together at the end of the day.

you were feeling good.

too good.

things were going well enough to make you nervous because suddenly, everything you knew from your breakup to the two weeks of enmity that followed those two weeks, changed drastically.

it felt like everything went back to the way it was and as much as you should be enjoying it, you didn’t, without confirmation of where you both stood, you couldn’t.

and soon, there came a catalyst that changed everything once again.

it was a mistake.

yoongi would never intentionally do this.

he took your pile of clothes as he usually does, placing them in a bucket and preparing to do your laundry along with his.

yoongi’s heart thrums in satisfaction as he places them in the washing machine, he always felt good doing chores for you, he doesn’t know why and with how well things were going, he dances and sings his way to the laundry detergent and whistles happily as he pours it heavily over your clothes, making sure to add extra fabric softener.

he leaves to do some light work in his studio, not knowing the mistake he committed.

yoongi was gunning to ruin your life, you were so sure of it.

nothing else could explain your sopping wet blouses, supposed to be white, at your feet.

you gape in horror as you pick the pile apart frantically to search for any blouses that could be salvaged, after all, these were all you wore to work, and your head falls in defeat once you see all of them in multi-colors instead of their usual stark white.

your hands tighten by your side as you feel hot all over with pure rage, you quickly grab the ex-white blouses and storm into the living room where yoongi scrolls casually on his phone, his pout whistles out tunes which fade away as he catches sight of your heavy steps towards him.

you throw your blouses at his feet and your nose flares, yoongi jumps in his seat.

“what the fuck happened?” he gasps out, not understanding the anger in your eyes.

“yoongi, this isn’t funny.” you manage to say beyond gritted teeth and he scrunches his eyebrows.

“what isn’t funny?” he frowns in confusion.

“stop acting dumb, i will fucking force detergent down your throat” that raises concern in him, he looks down at the pile of clothes by his feet.

none of the whites were whites anymore.

fuck.

“okay, listen i swear this is an accident, i’ll get you new on-“

“i wear these to work! what is wrong with you?” you point down at the pathetic pile of clothes by his feet with hands shaking from anger.

“you know, i wouldn’t do this intentionally, i am aware you wear these to work, let’s go out now and get you new shirts, i’m sure some shops will be open” he gets up from his seat, searching for his keys.

“don’t act dumb yoongi, it doesn’t suit you at all.”

yoongi starts getting frustrated, why don’t you believe him?

“let’s go and get them before the shops close” he tries to remain calm.

“i’m not going anywhere with you.” you stay rooted in your place and yoongi’s patience starts to run thin. “i’m telling you, it was a mistake, i’m not crazy enough to do this intentionally, now let’s not fight and get you shirts you need for tomorrow before we can’t.”

“don’t act like you are some hero, you are the one who ruined them!” you don’t understand why you are so angry or why you can’t seem to move from where you stood.

“and i’m trying to fix it.” he grumbles out, slamming the keys on the counter beside him.

you stare at the keys with heavy breaths and he stares at you, his anger melting as quickly as it came to the surface.

“let’s go.” he takes the keys in his hands again.

maybe it was the confusion that finally manifested with an ugly head.

maybe you hated how comfortable you got around yoongi again.

maybe you are seeing nothing but all his mistakes until that minute.

maybe you aren’t being fair at all.

but you snap.

“you think you are the only one who does important work?” you didn’t mean to get personal or bring up the topic that broke you both up again, but you couldn’t help it. your arms cross against your chest as yoongi spins on his heels to turn back to you.

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“you clearly think you are the only one in the entire world who does meaningful work, the rest of us are just slaving away for money and security, but of course, the great min yoongi works for the greater good, for the comfort of many, for millions who adore him, that is why any work that is not his, is not valuable” your voice drips with venom and mocking as you take slow steps towards him, yoongi’s face falls into his usual glare as he watches you speak.

you poke your finger against his chest, your voice quivering with poorly controlled fury, “who the fuck do you think you are? do you think that writing a few songs and getting some records will erase how horrible you make people you are supposed to love, feel? do you think that you can get away with everything because your name is not just a name, but also a brand? i can at least say that my name belongs and serves only me, can you? you are nothing but walking merchandise that anyone can buy.” again, you never meant to say all of that, you know better than to call anyone an object but that was the thing about your anger, your anger had the power of making you say the most vicious words in the world and you had never learned to control it.

“you don’t mean that” yoongi forces himself to say because those words from anyone else, wouldn’t mean jack shit to him but coming from you, they speared his heart over and over again. he waits, he waits with his sinking heart that you would agree with him, he doesn’t believe in god but at that moment, he wished for every power to let you agree with him.

the air grew heavier around you both as you let out a sarcastic laugh.

“i have never meant anything more. you fucked with my work life, you know how much of an asshole my manager is about dress codes but you did the one thing that could ruin weeks of work for me, and you did it all by yourself, so congratulations min yoongi, you have once again proved to be the worst thing to ever happen to me” you clapped slowly as you stepped away from him, your face grim and dark as you turn away.

yoongi’s heart clenches as your words circle his body in a dangerous tornado.

walking merchandise that anyone can buy.

walking merchandise that anyone can b-

your glare slips as the words you uttered sink into your skin, and by the time you turn back around, yoongi’s eyes already gathered enough tears that they run down his face.

“is that what you’ve thought of me till now?” his voice breaks and so does your heart. “yoongi, no-“ you step towards him but he backs away, his defenses climb back right infront of your eyes as his body suddenly looks too far away.

“that’s not fair, you don’t get to tell me now, that you thought i was merchandise, that i keep hurting everyone i love, when all i’ve done these past weeks is try and win you back.” your world stops spinning as yoongi admits to his trials.

you feel like the biggest asshole in the world.

“yoongi, you were right, i didn’t mean-“ you walk over to him with hesitant steps, he doesn’t back away this time but he doesn’t let you finish either.

“i know i’ll never be worthy of you, i know i can only try but i’m trying, god knows i’m fucking trying because even if you can live and breathe without me, i can’t do any of that without you.” your own eyes start to tear up as you reach to wipe the wetness of his cheeks and yoongi takes a shaky breathe in as his face involuntarily cuddles into your palm.

“and you were wrong that night, i will never move on from you, i am simply not capable of moving on from you, because i have never loved anyone more than i’ve loved you, i’ve never wanted someone as much as i have wanted you, every bit of me belongs to you, none of me is mine anymore. and it took you being away for me to realize that.” yoongi’s confession stops time and space. he feels exposed like someone stripped him naked and threw him into traffic but he finally lets you know everything he’s dreamed of telling you.

you press your forehead against him with a wobbling chin and cup his face with shaky hands.

“did you ever think, that by loving me, you were hurting me too?” you needed him to know the extent of his pain, the depth of his scars. yoongi lets you tell him, he needed to know as well.

“every day, i waited.” the ball in your throat gets tighter as you speak and yoongi hates that he’s the reason why.

“every single date you canceled, every night i fell asleep without you, every meal i had without you, all those days i went without seeing you, i need you to know that it killed me slowly, that it made me a shell of the person i am.” yoongi felt shame rushing through him at your words, at the pain he caused you.

he would understand if you didn’t let him in again.

he wouldn’t try again if you didn’t want him to, he has too much respect for you.

“i love you too much to not give you a chance, heck i would probably give you a chance even if you don’t ask for it.” he looks up with blurry eyes.

“but i need to believe that it will be different this time, not just know that it will be.” you step away at that, staring at yoongi who was left standing with a burden that suddenly fell on his shoulders.

how was he supposed to make you believe that?

could you not trust his word alone?

but then again, his words haven’t exactly ended things well for you both.

“how do you want me to show you?” he needed to know, there was nothing he needed to know more.

your breathing stalls at his words.

“please tell me.” his voice breaks as he whispers that, yoongi’s eyes gathering tears again and your heart falls to your feet at the redness coating his eyes.

you wished none of today would have happened.

“yoongi.” you whisper back but you don’t even know what he could do to mend things, you are not sure he can but you can’t deny him a chance.

you don’t have an answer for him.

“i am going apartment hunting soon” you confess finally, and he feels his breath get knocked out of his chest. “oh really?” he asks, sniffing as he looks away.

“my friend knows this real estate agent person who set me up for a few tours, you have to understand why i had to do it.” he knows exactly why you had to do it and he hated knowing that it was all because of him.

but he wasn’t going to give up after ripping his heart out for you.

“i’ll come with you.” yoongi nods and you frown at him, “yoongi, you really don’t have to, i know you are bus-“ he cuts you off, “i am not busy, let me come with you, i want to at least make sure you move into a nice place.” that was a total lie but it wasn’t like yoongi had a lot of options left.

you ponder for a while, and yoongi waits patiently for your answer, he won’t push you if you deny but he will be as stubborn as he can be without frustrating you.

“fine, i’ll let you know by tomorrow.” you finally give in and without another word, go back into your room. you close your door with an exhausted sigh, your face aligning with your reflection across the room.

your eyes were redder than ever and all the energy had been sucked out of your face, making you look sick and you felt sick too, your entire body was aching and you wondered if yoongi felt this way too, if he was as tired, if he felt like the world was pulling his body down, if he maybe wanted to give up because of this feeling.

you stay several minutes this way; you hadn’t thought you would call yoongi merchandise. you, of all people, knew how stressful his job got but you no longer wanted to use that as an excuse for how he treated you.

“how do you want me to show you?”

those words sent a shiver down your spine at that moment, it was the desperation that drenched his voice, the way his hands were shaking beside his body, and his eyes that looked through every inch of you, trying to find ways to convince you.

a slow knock drew you out of your mind, your hand locking around the doorknob to pull it open, and there stood the reason for all your pain and yearning.

yoongi held a tray of hot soup with ginger tea, and a bunch of chocolates, his gaze settling everywhere but at you, as he stood with shifting feet.

“you didn’t eat anything.” you didn’t realize you hadn’t eaten all day but apparently, yoongi had and that tightened your chest around your heart a little more, suffocating you with the love you held for him a little more.

with trembling fingers, you hoped he wouldn’t notice, you take the tray from his hands and place it on a table, and yoongi turns to leave, he didn’t want to bother you too much, he just wanted to make sure you ate.

you pulled on his wrist, not exactly sure of what you will do next but somehow, you needed to touch him, feel that he was real and that you both were here, so lost but still together.

“t-thank you.” you stutter out, every other word you had woven all these months stayed trapped in your mouth. yoongi stared at the hand that held his wrist, he had almost forgotten how out of breath this used to make him feel. how he used to lose nights of sleep imagining you and him, in a house, waking up next to you, falling asleep with you, long before you had both ever committed, yoongi had imagined every day in his life with you in it.

he can’t believe how close he is to losing all of it.

“we should talk, yoongi.” you feel tired but you won’t be catching any sleep in the state the both of you were in, he would spend all night worrying about you, and you would spend all night worrying about him.

yoongi silently followed you into the guest room, it was still strange for him to see you in another part of the house, he eyes the makeup that was scattered on the vanity, the clothes lying around on the sofa, your socks at the edge of the bed and as silly as it sounded, he hated that none of this mess was in the room you two shared.

“i’m still going to see the apartments” you start off awkwardly, taking a seat on the bed and yoongi stood at the corner of the bed, hating that it felt wrong to sit next to you at the moment.

when had it become so bad?

“and i’m still coming with you to see them.” he concludes and gathers all his courage before plopping down next to you. if today didn’t go the way it did, you would laugh at the distance between you two and pull him closer and tell him to stop acting funny, but none of that felt right.

“i think you understand you fucked up” you say, finally looking up at his figure next to you and you shouldn’t have, your resolve already was spread thin, and looking at yoongi didn’t help. “i do.” he agrees and nods shamefully.

“what are you going to do to fix it?”

“anything you want me to.” his answer is quick and firm, he was prepared for anything you would ask for, but you were tired of asking.

“it’s not about what i want, yoongi. i need to believe that you want this as much as i do, and that you’re prepared to fight for it, asking me about what to do is you just handing over the responsibility to me instead of at least trying to figure it out by yourself.” he listens intently, and puts himself in your shoes.

“i took a break from work.” your eyes widen at him and you have to force your jaw shut because you could’ve imagined anything but not those words leaving yoongi’s lips of all people.

“you, what?”

“work is good, very good but it was keeping me from you and it was hard to make that decision but i can always work, i can’t lose you. i can lose millions of dollars, this house, all my clothes, everything but nothing mounts to losing you.”

you have to force yourself to look away when he says that, because you never could have imagined that you were worth all of that and more to him and you are well aware of his deep affection for his work which makes it all the more sentimental that he was taking a break for you.

“i want to be worthy of you again, i want to spend time with you, i want to take care of you, i want to be anywhere around you as long as you want me. i thought i was working for us, for us to be comfortable, but i got selfish in the middle, and i ignored the person who kept me going when it got too hard.” he pauses, his breath shaking as his eyes fall shut. he remembers the exact second his chest almost blew up at the sight of you leaving home, he never wants to experience that again.

“it’s all on me, i should’ve never let you feel like i didn’t love you, loving you is one of the only things i can do right.”

“besides music.” you add in hopes to lighten the mood and you are successful when a full grin grows on yoongi, one that has your cheeks warming up with joy.

“besides music.” he agrees, “but i’ve done it for enough time now, i just want to love you, in the way you deserve to be loved. which is why i’m asking, no i’m begging for you to let me do this right, one last time.”

“what will change? if i say, yes?”

“all my time will be yours; all of my attention has always been yours and it will remain yours, i will make your food like i always have, we will go on dates whenever we want, and we will watch all the movies we’ve wanted to watch but couldn’t, we’ll do everything we used to do but better. it won’t go back to how it was but i don’t want us to stay as the shadow of who we used to be, because we’re meant for more than that.” he says sincerely, with his heartbeat echoing in every word and you couldn’t just pretend like you didn’t hear it.

“as much as i try to will this feeling away, i can never stop hoping for us.” in the next second that he utters those words, you throw yourself in his arms, and your final resolve breaks as his shaky hands snake down the length of your back like he can’t believe he gets to hold you like this again.

the first tear slips without knowledge, secretly and it disappears in his shoulder, his tear disappears in the crook of your neck. the tears that follow, fall shamelessly, without any intention of stopping and none of you say another word, not another ‘i need you to stay because i’ll lose the important piece of me if you go’, not another ‘i love you, like i’ve loved nothing else and losing you scares me like nothing else’, all of those remain unspoken but they hang in the air around you.

“i believe, with everything in me, that we’re meant for more than this.” yoongi braves to look at you, his eyes zeroing in on the curves of your cheeks, he hates that he was the reason for the tears that have fallen on them.

he can’t let it ever happen again.

“do you?”

“this one has beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows, i heard you have a passion for reading, so the sunlight will be perfect.” your agent says enthusiastically as he walks you through the sixth apartment you’ve seen today.

“she also has a passion for sleeping so that won’t work.” yoongi groans as he walks behind you, your face grows red as you slap him on the arm.

“if you’re going to complain about every house, just stay outside, i will look through them.” you grit your teeth at him but your heart softens when his mouth pulls into a whine, “our house is perfect, i literally don’t understand why you’re moving.”

all yoongi has done since he’s stepped out of home is complain about every single house you’ve been to.

“the closet won’t hold half your clothes.”

“a big kitchen is useless for you.”

“this literally looks like a druggie’s hideout.”

“it’s too white.”

no, you are not sure what he meant with the last one either but all you know is that he’s whisked you away from all of them before you could even consider them as options.

“we’ve talked about this, and we agreed that space could do us some good, and no, our house isn’t perfect, my bookshelf has no space left.” you complain lowly so that the agent doesn’t hear you but lo and behold he does. yoongi, on the other hand, can’t remember when he agreed that space would do you good, hell that’s the last thing he wants.

“which is why this house would be perfect for you, the bedroom offers a stunning full wall bookshelf that you can stock up with all of your reads without compromising for space!” he cheerfully chatters and yoongi’s jaw tightens, he hates this agent with all his body and soul even if he’s known him for an hour.

“i can build a bookshelf from scratch” he mumbles grumpily but he can’t help the way his heart flutters when he sees you catch sight of the bookshelf. it’s everything you ever want in a bedroom, a proper vanity, a low-set bed, perfect lighting, and of course, the majestic bookshelf.

your smile grows as you trace your fingers over the plush vanity and the bookshelf and yoongi’s face breaks into a half-smile.

it’s bittersweet, to have you, but in a different house, not the home you’ve built for years but yoongi would never deny anything that grew that smile on your face.

“i really like this one.” you beam at the agent who sighs out in relief but maintains a professional smile, “if you’re all set for it, i’ll get the paperwork ready.” he offers immediately and your eyes pass on yoongi’s figure in the doorway. he smiles at you encouragingly, as if he’s okay with it, but you know he’s not.

just then, yoongi’s phone rings and he excuses himself to step out to take the call, right before he leaves, he hears you say, “i’ll take this one” in a lovely, sing-song tone that he knows you only use when you’re truly happy. his shoulders slump but he knew that this would happen today, he had told his heart all night to not give up on him.

he answers the phone with an irritated tone, he didn’t know how to feel, he could barely listen to the person speaking to him on the phone, he wanted to be happy just for the fact that you agreed to give him a second chance, and that you were excited to spend time with him, but he couldn’t help the sinking in his chest at the thought of waking up and not seeing you.

“no, i am not coming in for work next week, i already told you this, don’t call me again.” yoongi says in a calm but stern manner, the person tries talking again but you were out of the house, and yoongi could care less about anything else.

“did you sign the papers? did you need a pen? i think i have one in my car, let me go grab it.” he rambles and hastens to make his way to the car but you bite back a smile and grip onto his hand.

“yoongi.” you step into his open arms and hug his torso, yoongi is confused but his arms wrap around you, and unconsciously you both are swaying in each other’s embrace.

the house was great but being in yoongi’s arms for these two minutes felt more like home than any house in the world and every corner of the house reminded you of the lack of his presence.

the kitchen, where he won’t cook, where he won’t make fun of your dishes.

the couch, where his headphones don’t lay carelessly.

the bedroom, where his side is neatly arranged while yours stays a mess.

the balcony, where he won’t sip his coffee dramatically at sunset to amuse you.

and the bookshelf, that he won’t help you fill with all the books he gets home, just because they reminded him of you.

you had wanted a home and space but you could find both of those in yoongi.

“you can build a bookshelf, right?” yoongi’s eyebrows scrunch at your question, he almost feels offended that you have to ask that.

“um duh, you know i can.” he whines and you giggle into his chest.

“then, i’m not moving.” yoongi’s arms almost fall away at your words, a strange mix of relief, gratefulness and content fill his every crevice as he tries not to hug you tighter, a punishment for even thinking of keeping you away from him.

and he will take this mix of emotions and remember it forever, the day you gave up on space to stay with him, he will remember the favor you did for his heart for as long as he breathes.

“i will build a million bookshelves if that’s what you want, all you have to do is stay, forever.” forever is a big word, a word yoongi never believed in, always saying that everything in life was on borrowed time but with you, it feels like too short of time.

you knew how he felt about forever so for him to say it to you, rushes into your chest and spreads with a warmth that makes you feel all things giddy and good.

he says nothing, no words, just keeps you in his arms after time had kept you away for too long.

“let’s go home, yoongi.”

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spacehippieface · 11 months

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A monstrous tripod, higher than many houses, striding over the young pine trees, and smashing them aside in its career; a walking engine of glittering metal, striding now across the heather; articulate ropes of steel dangling from it, and the clattering tumult of its passage mingling with the riot of the thunder. A flash, and it came out vividly, heeling over one way with two feet in the air, to vanish and reappear almost instantly as it seemed, with the next flash, a hundred yards nearer. Can you imagine a milking stool tilted and bowled violently along the ground? That was the impression those instant flashes gave. But instead of a milking stool imagine it a great body of machinery on a tripod stand. [...]

Seen nearer, the Thing was incredibly strange, for it was no mere insensate machine driving on its way. Machine it was, with a ringing metallic pace, and long, flexible, glittering tentacles (one of which gripped a young pine tree) swinging and rattling about its strange body. It picked its road as it went striding along, and the brazen hood that surmounted it moved to and fro with the inevitable suggestion of a head looking about. Behind the main body was a huge mass of white metal like a gigantic fisherman’s basket, and puffs of green smoke squirted out from the joints of the limbs as the monster swept by me.

Let's talk tripods! Every artist and fiilmmaker has different interpretations of the fighting machines. It's not hard to picture a towering three-legged alien death machine, of course, Wells gives us a good picture of what they look like, but I want to go over a few depictions of them and compare them to his written description, in no particular order, because I think it's interesting, and I think WOTW might actually be a special interest:

Wells drew this one himself. It's a stick figure, of course, but this was how he pictured them. I especially like the little guy going "oo-er!" at the sight of it, almost in polite terror.

The BBC version. To me, this one owes a bit more to Transformers design-wise, and moves like the Cloverfield monster, like the MUTO, like a lot of giant monsters we've seen in recent years, terrestrial or otherwise. But they are still menacing, and they actually make a clear "aloo!" noise when calling to each other. I've got to give them that, even though the BBC screwed up the Martians, the cylinder, they kept going on about Russia, the whole "you can't marry her, you're already married to your cousin" bit. It was a mess.

The Edward Gorey illustrations. O is for Ogilvy, burned like the flag. P's for the Parson, oh, what a drag. Sorry. This is basically a flying saucer with legs. Bit silly,but the tentacles are there, and the legs aren't the stiff kind Wells hated. Which brings us to...

Warwick Goble's illustrations from the original publication of WOTW in Pearson's Magazine. Wells famously hated these so much that when WOTW was published as a book, he wrote a segment into the story ragging on these stiff-legged water tower tripods. I think Goble took the milking stool description too literally, his tripods are always drawn tilted.

The 2005 Spielberg tripod. Great. Massive. Scary. Everything is there. The tentacles, the Heat Ray arm (two even), the suggestion of a head, even the basket. Say what you want about this movie with its excessive amount of Tom Cruise and young Dakota Fanning screaming, but the tripods are fantastic. Damn near perfect even. I think Wells would be very pleased.

The 1953 design. I am very fond of these, they're a great classic sci-fi ship, but they're more akin to the flying machines than the tripods. The filmmakers try to loophole their way out by talking about invisible electrostatic legs (which you can see when the machines initially appear) but I'm pretty sure they went this route because the film was getting more and more expensive and the budget wouldn't extend to stop-motion for the legs. Still, a wonderful creation, the goose neck/cobra head design for the Heat Ray is a good touch and my god, the hissing, ticking noises these things made. Love them.

The Jeff Wayne musical design. My favourite. My beloved. My nightmare fuel. Totally iconic. I'm sure when most people think WOTW, their first thought is the legendary album cover featuring one of these monsters melting the Thunder Child's valiant heart. Doesn't make them book-accurate though. The Heat Ray is built into the chassis, it's all one unit rather than a separate head on a body, the basket was given to the handling machines, and they are stiff-legged in stills. But they're scary in motion, and their howls still give me the jibblies. OH GOD, THOSE HOWLS. Opening Horsell Common And The Heat Ray on the Highlights album with that scream isn't fair!

Henrique Alvim-Corrêa's illustrations for the Belgian publication, and Wells' favourites. The effects of the Heat Ray are chilling, and they're definitely sinister when there's a lot of them just standing there or coldly blasting humans. But I'm just not sold on those googly eyes, they make them goofier. Although when these designs were used for the War of the Worlds 1913 indie game (which I still need to play) the eyes were just blank. Redemption!

#daily war of the worlds

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neymarsangel · 1 year

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Rivals with Benefits - Mick Schumacher x reader - Part 2

Read Part One here

Mick Schumacher x female!reader

Summary: Mick and you were both set to drive for Ferarri. You were two best friends climbing through the ranks together (and through the sheets) but things turn sour. You join Red Bull and Mick is never the same.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, thigh riding, some overstimulation, Mick being cocky, fluff, swearing

Word Count: 5.3K

—

Once more wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Every bone in your body told you to push him away but the slightest touch got you high, the addiction to his body came rushing back and you wanted nothing more than to scream his name whilst he ruined every inch of you. But this season was different, you needed to win this championship and falling into the hands of Mick wouldn’t aid you in any way.

“I’m not doing this.” You tried to shuffle way to the side but his hand pressed against the lift door, trapping you between the door and his body.

“No one needs to know…”

“You think Max won’t find out?” Arching your brows, you attempted to puff your chest out in front of him, trying to assert some dominance between you, but that only made his ego grow.

“Only because you’ll tell him.”

“He guessed last time -”

“And you think I’m going to lose sleep over Verstappen?”

“He’s a better driver than you -”

“Not until I win this year, then we’ll be even.”

“You aren’t winning this year Schumacher.”

“You want to bet on it?” A smirk danced on his lips as he straightened himself up, towering over you, his eyes raking over your body before speaking. “Every race you win, I’ll leave you alone but every race I win…” His head dipped down so his lips could meet your ear. “You’ll be in my room screaming my name…”

“And why would I agree to that?”

“Because if Miss Redbull is so sure she’s going to win this season then you’ll surely win more races than I will, won’t you?”

He had a point… to an extent, if you were going to win this season then you would need to win most races in order to get the most points but falling back into his arms would start something the two of you knew would be hard to finish.

Mick broke your thoughts as he spoke again. “But then again if you aren’t confident enough and you really are as slow as last season then I guess you’ll say -”

“You’ve got a deal, Schumacher.” You cut him off rather abruptly, getting fed up with his attitude.

Was it a stupid idea? Yes. But would it get him to leave you alone? Yes. Although you knew it would take a lot for Mick to forget about your little deal you were adamant you could avoid him like the plague just to avoid his end of the deal.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head to the side, his smirk growing with pride at your words. “You think you can handle that?”

“I drive a car around a track at speeds that could kill anyone in an instant, there’s not much I can’t handle.” Shoving Mick’s body away from you which he allowed. “And considering I won today that means you need to leave me alone.”

Mick held his hands up in surrender as he moved back further to allow you out of the lift. “You win y/l/n… just wait until Saudi Arabia.”

“We’ll see Schumacher.” Your gaze was fixated on him as you backed away from the lift and headed down the corridor to your room, your mind filled with the interaction with Mick.

Max would kill you if he found out.

—

Mick was wrong about Saudi Arabia, he ended up getting caught up with Lando Norris and never finished the race, meanwhile, you and Max both finished on pole, you in P1 and himself in P2. It may only be the second race into the season but you and your Red Bull family always celebrated as if it was the last. Part of you happened to celebrate that little bit more knowing you wouldn’t be moaning Mick’s name that night but things didn’t stay plain sailing.

You and the other drivers were in Australia, the Grand Prix taking place in a mere few minutes. Horner was giving you and Max a final small ted talk for the race ahead. After Mick’s dnf and yours and Max’s pole it set the pair of you off to a good start to the season, unlike a few seasons ago where you and Max failed to get on pole until a few races in.

Whilst Christian spoke you felt eyes burning on your skin and as much as you tried to ignore the feeling of someone watching you couldn’t help but notice a bright red race suit looming just outside the garage. A quick glance over Christians' shoulder confirmed your thoughts, Mick was staring straight at you with the same expression he held during that night in the lift. When he felt you watching him for long enough he raised his hand and gave you a light wave. The fucked knew what he was doing. It was simple but effective, he wanted to get in your head, and distract you from winning with thoughts of himself.

“Ignore him.” Max had clearly caught on to your lingering eyes before anyone else could.

“I’m trying.” Through gritted teeth, you spoke back.

“Try harder.” Tough love was Max’s solution but it always proved worthy. “Don’t throw away your chance of a championship for a moment with Daddy's money.”

“Did you forget you also got here from Daddy's money?”

Max looked down at you, a smirk on his lips as he whispered back. “Bit different, my dad was shit at racing, his dad wasn’t… besides he was still richer than my dad.”

“You two understand that?” Christian caught your attention, his eyes shifting between the two of you as he awaited a response.

“Yes.” You both spoke in unison, sparing a glance at one another before shifting away to get into your cars.

Despite Max’s words, your mind was swarmed with the thought of Mick. Even though you regretted the deal you’d agreed to you couldn’t help but remember those times you’d spent with Mick and how good it felt, the pair of you acted like a couple rather than two people who just slept together. Mick introduced you to his family, you spent time riding around his ranch with his sister and Mick even opened up to you about his dad to you. but happiness could never last. The day Mick broke everything off it left you heartbroken. But you weren’t the only one who felt like that.

You were starting on pole, P2 to be exact. Mick was in front of you and Max was behind you. A good start was all that you needed, with that you’d be able to cut Mick off and with Red Bull’s tactics it would mean you would be able to keep a good distance between you both but Mick had other plans. After the deal was sealed he wanted nothing more than to win and watch the realisation on your face when you knew you’d be spending the night screaming his name like you used to. Even if he had to play dirty to get it, he would because he knew with his last name he could get away with it.

The formation lap was completed and the familiar red car belonging to Mick was just inches before you. “And it’s lights out and away we go!” The lights changed and everyone set off. The perfect start you needed was the one you got. Before the first corner, the two of you were fighting for the spot of P1 and neither of you wanted to back down first.

The first few laps were clean but it wasn’t going to stay that way. On the fifteenth lap; Mick edged forward slightly on the second turning but quickly turned on you ever so lightly, clipping your car just enough to send you off the track and into the wall. It wasn’t a heavy crash but it was enough to end your hopes of winning the Australian Grand Prix.

“Fucks sake!” You screamed down the radio, slamming your hands on the wheel.

“Are you okay?” The concerned voice of your engineer filled your ears.

“I’m fine but the car isn’t.” He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at your words before he continued the conversation.

“We’re all glad you’re okay. The track is safe for you to leave the car-”

“What about Schumacher?” You spat. “The prick pushed me off the track on purpose!”

“Christian is filing a report now-”

“How close is Max to him?”

“Few seconds behind-”

“Make sure he laps the twat.” You clambered out of the car, throwing your gloves down with a huff. You hated the idea of going back to the garages and having to talk to the media about what had happened. One thing Max taught you when you first joined was to be careful with the media. He’d landed himself in a fair few troubles in the past with the press and that’s something he never wanted you to fall into.

After a quick examination at the media tent, you headed back to the Red Bull garage to watch the rest of the race. Max had finished in P2 and much to your disgust, Mick had finished in P1. Knowing what was to come you didn’t dare watch him celebrate on the podium, at that point you’d rather be hounded by the media.

“Marina? I’m going for interviews.” You called to Red Bull’s head of media. She was always there to make sure you and Max didn’t let anything stupid slip or in Max’s case, not punch the reporter.

“You really want to head off there now?” She asked, grabbing her kit as you watched. “We can always avoid them for a few more hours.”

“I’d rather get this done with so I can just eat my weight away in hotel food.” You replied. “Besides I’d rather not see Mick in the media pen.”

“Understandable.” She pulled you into a side hug and she gave you a warm smile before leaving the garages.

Meanwhile, Mick was basking in the glory of winning his first race of the season, not to mention he would receive his end of the deal. As the German national anthem took over his hearing he couldn’t help but scan the crowd below him in an attempt to find you but to now avail he couldn’t see you. He wasn’t sure why but his heart sank slightly at the lack of your presence at the podium but he had no time to mourn with the sudden cold sensation of champagne hitting his skin.

“y/n firstly we hope you’re okay after that minor crash.” The interviewer for Sky spoke.

“Thank you, I can assure you I’ve been checked over and I’m fine.”

“That’s all that we can hope for in this sport. Can you talk us through what happened?”

You had to word things wisely but your anger for Mick was bubbling inside you. “He didn’t leave the space needed, he cut me off and I went into the wall. I think he should’ve received a penalty for what he did. I was lucky the two of us weren’t going at a faster speed which could have left me in a dire state but it’s amazing what you can get away with when you have a last name like his.”

“Do you think you were treated unfairly by the FIA?”

“I guess we’ll see by the next race, there’s always time for a penalty.”

“You’re still leading the driver's Championship, is that weighing on your mind?”

“It’s easy to jump the boat when things start to go well but you have to stay humble and not allow yourself to get too cocky.”

“That’s a very strong mindset.”

“You learn a lot when you drive alongside a World Champion.” You flashed a smile.

“Thank you very much y/n, we’re glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” Giving her one last nod you backed away, turning to face Marina. “How was that?”

“I would have avoided blaming the FIA for everything or calling Mick out but other than that it went better than expected.” Her smile matched yours. “You can head off to the hotel now, I’ll tell Max you weren’t feeling too well and just wanted to sleep.”

“Thank you, I owe you one Marina.” If there was one person Max would listen to it was you and Marina, if she told him you didn’t want to see him then he wouldn’t dare knock on your door. All he’d do is send a simple text checking up on you and then he’d leave you be unless you asked for him.

You lay on your bed, your race suit hanging off your waist as you scrolled through social media, the only sound filling your ears came from the hotel television. Your parents and a few friends of yours had messaged you about the race, always making sure you were okay.

One thing that you always envied about the other drivers was how often their families would come and watch their races. Sure you had a good relationship with your parents but they were a humble couple and despite your success, they refused to give up their jobs, they always told you it was your success so you deserved to keep it but the truth was you wouldn’t be here without them. That was something you wish you’d never lost when it came to Mick. His family became yours, his mother and sister would always cheer your name when you finished your races and now the pair would just smile and send you a small wave. Sometimes Gina or his Mum would approach you for a short conversation, not caring about the rivalry you and Mick clearly had.

Huffing you threw your phone to the side, deciding it was time to change and shower but a harsh knock at your door caused your head to snap towards the sound of the noise. “Max I told you I’m fine!” You called out to the door, thinking the brunette was trying his luck after you told him to leave you be but the knock didn’t stop. “Max I told you -” Swinging the door open you weren’t met with the kind eyes of Max Verstappen but the lustful ones of Mick Schumacher.

“Y/n -”

“You fucking cheated today Schumacher!” Raising your hands you shoved his chest, pushing him lightly.

“Cheated?” Scoffing he acted like he hadn’t done a thing. “That’s called driving love -”

Your voice raised as you cut him off. “Driving? You can’t even do that right! Did you get Mummy and Daddy to pay off the FIA again?”

Mick lunged forward pushing his way into your hotel room enough that he could slam the door shut behind him, locking the two of you in. “You’ve still got a loud mouth on you y/n -”

“Shut -” Mick grabbed your waist and shoved you against the wall, one hand coming up to behind your head so you didn’t hurt yourself. You noticed his actions, a small warm glimmer of affection sprouted in your stomach but your face pushed that feeling away, never wanting Mick to have his ego blown up even more.

“You need to be quiet, you know what’ll happen if someone hears.”

“Oh god forbid someone was to find out we were together.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” His eyes bore into yours as he spoke. “You and I both know the media latch onto you more than me.” He had a point. The media always treated female drivers differently than men, always putting them down or jumping to write the most appalling headlines about them.

“Fair point but why would you care?”

“Oh come on now y/l/n do you really think I still don’t look out for you?”

“Is that why you caused me to crash today?”

“It’s everyone for themselves out on that track, just because we have teammates doesn’t mean we play as a team. We work as a team to get points but do you think I’d just let Leclerc win a race because I want to be nice? Come on… would you let Max win just because he’s your teammate? We both know he wouldn’t just let you win because you two drive for the same team.”

“Then you clearly don’t know Max.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me,” He dipped his head lower, both his hands on either side of the wall. “When did Max Verstappen let you win?”

“Last season Silverstone, when I won it put me miles ahead of you. He knew how much I wanted to win so we played as a team, I did the same for him the season before, holding off Leclerc so he could win in France.” Mick looked taken back a little at your words. “Anything to add to that Schumacher?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ as the words left his mouth.

Changing the subject you eyed the blonde boy before you. “Why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Oh did the FIA finally ban you?”

Mick rolled his eyes, leaning down further so his lips ghosted yours. “I came for my end of the deal…”

“And here's me thinking you wanted to apologise for what you did.”

“I’ll make it up to you but I am sorry…” His lips moved to your neck, as a light kiss met your skin. Instintacvily you allowed your head to fall back which allowed Mick to get as close as he wished. “But I know you want it…”

“You don’t know shit, Schumacher…”

“Yeah?” He raised his head from your neck before letting his forehead rest on yours. “You know you could push me away but you haven’t.”

“I’m aware.” Your voice came out as a whisper as Mick lowered his lips down to yours but he didn’t connect his lips with yours.

“God I’ve missed you…” His lips ghosted yours as he whispered back.

“You cut what we had off…”

“Like I said… I have my regrets… now stop talking.”

“You can’t tell me what to -” Mick finally put his lips onto yours, kissing you for the first time in over a year. Everything felt like it did when the two of you last shared a moment together, it was almost like the two of you had never been apart. Mick’s hands trailed down to the back of your thighs as he continued to deepen the kiss. His hands gripped your skin, tugging your body closer to him.

“Jump.” He instructed. Wrapping your arms around his neck you allowed him to lift your legs as you jumped and latched your legs around him. Mick pulled away from the wall and lightly stepped towards the bed, his lips never leaving yours as he did so.

Every bone in your body told you this was a bad idea and that you should have never agreed to Mick’s deal. It was a stupid thing to do but in the moment you just wanted to enjoy your victory, never thinking of the consequences of your actions. But it was just a shitty deal that would last until the end of the season, right? You and Max would win far more races than Mick ever would… wouldn’t you?

Placing you on the bed Mick knelt between your legs, a smirk on his lips as he watched your flushed face connect the dots as to what the two of you were doing. “You look surprised -”

“Suprised I haven’t called Max -”

“I didn’t know you were into that.” He arched his brow before speaking. “But I’d prefer you to myself -”

“Shame Gasly fucks me better.”

“Does he now?” Mick’s hand slithered down your thermals, pushing the bottom half of your race suit down. You tried to shut your legs to stop his actions but Mick was already one step ahead. He pushed your legs apart with his knee before leaning down so his lips met yours. “You’re a bad liar y/n… I know he’s never fucked you… you wouldn’t stoop as low as him.”

“Stooped low and went for you didn’t I?”

“You’re such a brat.” Mick pulled your race suit clean off, leaving you in your fireproof thermals. His lips attached themself to your neck, tugging at the skin which made you let out a soft suppressed moan. One hand propped him up whilst the other moved under your shirt and past your bra. Mick pushed the fabric of your sports bra up towards your chest before dragging himself away from your neck and pulling your fireproofs and bra off. “God I’ve missed this…” Mick latched his lips onto your skin like it was the last thing he’d ever do.

“Mick…” Your voice was low as his name fell from your mouth.

“Louder…” He demanded as his mouth found your right nipple whilst his hand moved to your left boob, tugging and playing with the bud between his fingers.

“You haven’t given me anything to be louder about.” You knew your words would anger him and you knew they’d have consequences but after all this time deep down you wanted to know if he’d still react the way he used to, needless to say, you were about to find out.

Mick’s head snapped up from your chest, his eyes darkening at your suggestive words. “You never learn do you?” He knelt in between your legs, his hands now lingering at your waist as he slowly took a grip on the last of your fireproofs. “You never could keep your mouth shut.” As he spoke he pulled them down your legs and threw them onto your hotel floor, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. “And your words always had consequences, didn’t they?” As he finished talking Mick leaned down so his face was just inches away from yours. You could feel his breath against your face as you waited for him to lant his lips onto yours but he never did. He flipped the two of you around, his hands gripping your waist as you straddled him whilst your hands pressed into his shoulders to steady yourself.

Mick pressed his clothed hips into your bare ones. You could feel his hard-on through his joggers as he slowly started to move his hand to your clit. Mick took his thumb and slowly started to tease you whilst his other hand gripped onto your hips, pulling you down onto his dick whilst he thrust up.

“You want something to be loud about?” He added pressure to your clit, his eyes lighting up at the way pleasure slowly started to take over your body. You hated the way you fell back into Mick’s hands so easily. Every inch of you begged you not to let it get this far but he felt so good, if there was one thing you knew you and Mick could both agree on was that he knew your body better than anyone and no matter how many years passed, he always knew what he was doing.

Your body reacted to his actions, slowly grinding on him as he continued to toy with your clit. Rubbing circles on your skin he started to speed up and added more pressure as he watched you quicken your pace on his dick. Light moans filled his ears as you felt the slow rise in the pit of your stomach as your orgasm approached. Mick knew you were close so he sped up his actions, keeping up a steady pace.

“Mick… I’m gonna cum -” Just as you spoke those words Mick took his hand away from your clit, a sly smirk on his lips as the realisation on your face grew. “Why did you stop?”

“Make yourself cum.”

“What?”

“Make yourself cum.” He repeated. “You wanted something to be loud about so I’m giving you something, the last time you got yourself off on my thigh your moans filled the hotel room.”

“And?”

“And you were loud and since you want to be loud now then go ahead.”

Your gaze narrowed at his words. “And who says I want to get off?”

Mick grabbed your hips before grinding them into his. A surprised moan filled the room as you gripped his chest. “Don’t lie to me y/n we both know all you want to do right now is to cum over my thigh.” Mick unfortunately had a point. The last time you rode his thigh you came hard, leaving a stain on his jeans and now you wanted to do the same with his joggers.

Sleeping with him once more wouldn’t hurt… would it?

Shifting in his lap you straddled his thigh, your hands still gripping his chest as you lower yourself down before slowly pressing your clit to his joggers. Your light actions teased him more than he wanted to let on. His hands ran up your skin before pushing your hair behind your ear. Mick’s eyes bored into yours as he raised his thigh to your core, his hand once pushing your hair behind your ear now cupping your jaw. Mick pulled your lips onto his as you began to move on his thigh.

Moaning into his mouth your pace began to quicken as Mick deepened the kiss. His free hand would occasionally slap your ass which only made grind against his thigh harder. Tugging at your bottom lip the blonde pulled away for a second, looking down at the thigh you were currently riding.

“Look at the mess you’ve made.” His hand now ran down to your boobs, pinching your nipple before he spoke again. “Such a good girl for me.”

“Please Mick…”

“Please what?” He acted oblivious to your begging. “Use your words…”

“Please can I cum?”

A low laugh came from his lips. “After all this time you still ask me for permission… always so good for me.” He planted a light kiss on your lips. “You can cum.”

A breath of relief filled the air before your moans started to take over. You started to speed up, your nails leaving light marks through Mick’s shirt as your high started to wash over you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck, moaning as you finished on his thigh.

“Good girl…” He praised you as you came. He guided your head away from his neck, watching as you came down from your high. “Think you can handle one more?” His eyes searched yours.

“Yes.”

Mick kissed you again, slowly flipping the two of you before he started to discard his clothes. “You know I want nothing more than to feel your mouth around me,” You watched as his cock hit his stomach and as his words continued. “But that can wait till next time -”

“Bold of you to assume there’ll be a next time.”

“You think I won’t win more races?” He lined himself up with your entrance as he spoke, his dick teasing you with every second that passed. “We both know you’ll have another DNF this season.”

“Is that you trying to say you’re going to cheat me out of another win?”

Mick didn’t reply with words, only actions. He slammed himself into you, and he let out a low groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. “Guess we’ll have to find out.” He finally replied before pulling out and slamming himself back into you.

He kept a steady pace, one hand cupping your jaw as the other one played with your clit. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip before he parted your lips with it. You took the hit and took his thumb into your mouth, your gaze never breaking his as you did so. Mick moaned before slamming into you harder. “If you aren’t careful I’ll pull out and fuck your mouth.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll fuck your mouth next time, at least then you’ll keep quiet.”

You went to retaliate to his words but Mick’s thumb started to speed up on your clit. The sensation of his hips slamming into yours and the pressure on your clit only made you moan louder. You tried to suppress your moans, knowing Max and a few other staff members had rooms nearby but Mick’s actions made it hard.

“Fuck…” You moaned as the familiar sensation in your stomach started to grow. “Mick -”

“Don’t cum until I say.” Mick could feel you getting close but he wanted to cum with you.

“Please…” Your head fell back against the pillows but Mick moved his hand behind your head, taking a fistful of your hair and forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t you dare look away.” His thrusts started to slow as he felt himself growing close. “I want you to look at me when you cum, understand?”

“Yes…” You hated how submissive you turned when he spoke to you but who wouldn’t crumble under Mick Schumacher? ‘

“That’s my girl.” His head fell back with a moan as he moved your leg to hook around his waist, giving him a new angle as he fucked you harder. “Cum with me.”

Mick let his head fall forward, his face inches from yours as the two of you met one another gaze as you both reached your high. Mick came inside you, his body falling on top of yours as he felt you pulse around him. The room filled with your heavy breaths, the two of you coming down from something you thought would never happen.

Eventually Mick propped himself up, and a thin layer of sweat glistened across his forehead as his eyes met yours again. Without a word being shared, he took your lips into his, unlike the start of your night together this kiss was slow and loving. He longed the kiss out for as long as he could before pulling away for air.

You expected Mick to grab his clothes and leave, he’d gotten his end of the deal but his actions were the opposite of your thoughts. Mick walked towards your bathroom and grabbed a damp cloth before walking back over to you. Gently pulling your legs apart he cleaned the mess he’d made. “Sit up.” His words weren’t demanding but instead guiding. Discarding the cloth he grabbed his shirt and slowly put it over your body. He planted a kiss on your forehead, a small smile on his lips before he moved over to grab fresh underwear for you. “Can I?” He asked as he sat between your legs, waiting for your reply.

“Yes.” You whispered to him. Mick treated you as if you were made of glass, taking care of every single inch of you as he helped you get dressed. When he knew you were comfortable he dressed himself in just his boxers and climbed back into bed with you.

“Are you okay?” His voice was sweet as he spoke. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“I’m fine, are you?”

“Course I am. Just needed to make sure I didn’t go too hard.”

“I thought you were rather weak Schumacher.”

“Oh yeah?” He looked down at you. “I always told you that mouth of yours would get you in trouble.”

“It’s kept me out of it.”

“Just wait till I get you to myself again.”

But it was just a one-time thing… but would it be so bad if you fell into his arms again?

---

Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @lillianacristinaa @mrscevanss @chiliwhore @mloyer

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hyunsvngs · 7 months

Note

FISTING WITH JEONGIN I SCREAMED

Him sitting you on his lap and slowly working you up to fisting?????????????????

oh and he’d do it in front of a mirror too. under the cut and u can always block the fisting tag <3

“think you can take another one?” he murmurs, broad arm wrapped around your chest. your nipples are sensitive, rubbing against his skin almost painfully, and your pussy is already stretched tight around 3 long fingers. “it’s no rush, baby. look at you, so pretty for me, yeah?”

you know it’s jeongin’s fantasy. his hands are so big, and ever since you’d expressed how much you love them and feeling them on you, around your neck and inside of you, he’d been tunnel visioned on the idea of fisting you. you’d been uncertain since his hands really are huge - but, god, you couldn’t get the idea out of your head either. your pussy stretched so tight around his entire fist? yes, yes and thrice yes.

it had taken a lot of relaxing, a copious amount of lube and now you were sat with your legs splayed over his, spread open in front of his full length mirror. he normally used it to take his ootd pictures, and you have to hold back a laugh at the way it’s being repurposed now.

“i- i can take four, yeah,” you whimper, wiggling your hips. jeongin’s quick to grab your leg, his spare hand rubbing soothing circles on the soft skin with a small ‘calm down, i got you’. it makes you gasp when he pushes the fourth finger in, and you let your head loll back onto his shoulder, eyes shut.

“no, no,” he coos, moving his shoulder forward so you do the same. “look at yourself. look at how tight that pussy’s stretched for me.”

he’s got four fingers inside now, curling the long digits up to meet your g-spot. he’s made you cum twice already, for relaxation purposes, but you know he’ll make you cum again just as quick.

“god, it looks good,” you moan, eyes trained on your pussy. jeongin huffs, nodding with his eyes fixated and narrowed on your drooly folds. “i want it all. the thumb, all of it, i’m relaxed enough now.”

“are you sure, baby?” jeongin whispers, his eyes searching yours for any uncertainty. you nod confidently, trying to push your hips forward into his hand. you watch as he reaches to drizzle some more clear lube - specifically made for fisting, actually, because it’s jeongin after all - over his fist. he didn’t really need anymore, but when he finally slides his hand inside of you, the slide is so wet, slick and open that it makes you gasp.

“oh,” you whine, jaw dropping. “oh. oh my god. oh fuck, jesus, what the fuck? it feels so good.”

you can’t believe it. jeongin’s started rutting into your ass now, and then he pumps his fist inside a few times, and you’re cumming. you’re in shock. you, who struggled to take jeongin’s cock at the beginning and now you’ve taken his fist? your chest would puff with pride if you weren’t battling the strongest orgasm you’ve ever felt.

“yeah, cum on it,” jeongin’s voice is low, strained. “cum on my fucking fist, dirty baby. you’re riding my cock after.”

#juno’s asks ♡#sweet baby anon #asks: innie #FISTING!

158 notes · View notes

elliereject · 9 months

Text

stupid bitch .2

* after learning about the feelings you’d harboured for her for so long, ellie was even more confused than before. however, after spending time away from you and even more time thinking, she realizes that fuck she feels the same way, if not stronger. she only hopes that you still feel the same way and she’ll be able to finally call you hers.

* angst at the beginning if you squint, ellie’s in denial and stupid, ellie lowkey being head over heels in love with you and everything you do, kissing, oral!reader receiving, scissoring, overstim, meanish!ellie, lots of mush

* hello! sorry it took a while for this part to come out, i wanted to make sure the ending was as dramatic as the first part with a satisfying end. i promise im not ignoring you guys i do see all of your sweet messages and requests to tag and i thank you all so much for interacting with me and enjoying what i write bc i enjoy writing it! unfortunately i cant respond 1on1 because this is not my primary account and tumblr hasn’t changed it so that alternate accounts can do all the things main ones do

ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ anyways i dont want to make this too long so im gonna wrap it up but again, thank you so much for the kind words it’s motivating me to continue writing and before i shut up i was just wondering if anybody would be interested in a ballerina!reader x ellie slowburn cuz it’s currently floating around in my drafts and i just wanna make sure it wouldnt flop also lol take a shot every time i use the word jade.

*mdni

*wc - 4k (bonus at the end)

part .1 here

“Stop fucking laughing Jesse, it’s not funny” Ellie frowned.

Jesse let out one last obnoxious guffaw before handing the joint back to Ellie, who was laying back on her beanbag, so he could wipe a stray tear from his eye.

“You’re right.” He said, suddenly serious. “It’s fucking hilarious.” He snorted, kicking his legs up and gasping for air.

Dina elbowed him hard from her seat next to him on Ellie’s old green couch, “She’s right, Jesse shut up.”

After that movie night-turned-love confession, Ellie had utterly broken down. The lines between her friendship with you had blurred so much she couldn’t see it clearly if she had fucking glasses on.

Her kiss with you had sent her down a whirlwind path of confusion and guilt. She had no idea where she stood with you and it’d been over a month and a half since she’s spoken to you.

After that night, Ellie ended things with Cat. She couldn’t handle being in a relationship especially when she wasn’t even sure she liked the girl she was dating anymore plus the fact you were in love with her. Cat had gotten mad, screaming matches were had and insults were thrown; but it was when she started coming for you, calling you a slut and a homewrecker and saying that she always knew you were trying to steal Ellie from her that she gave her 5 seconds to get the fuck out before she did something she regretted.

Cat had left with a scoff, taking Ellie’s favourite green sweater with her. After doing lots and lots of thinking, Ellie called up Dina for an emergency smoke sesh and to get some advice on what the fuck was going on since she somehow always knew what to do. Only she hadn’t known Jesse would be there and the headache he was inducing almost made her throw him out the door and she 100% would’ve if Dina wasn’t there.

“Thanks, Dee.”

“Of course, only I just have one question.” Ellie had just finished explaining what had happened between the two of you in the last couple months, hence the reason Jesse was about to pull a muscle from laughing so hard.

“Shoot.”

“Why the fuck did you stay with Cat for so long?”

Ellie groaned, taking a long puff of the joint before passing it to Dina so she could explain.

“I don’t fucking know she made me feel..good? And bad..but good. I know this is going to sound crazy but being with someone who was as fucked up as me felt…safe, like I wasn’t alone.”

“But she cheated on you like..a hundred times,” Jesse spoke up, finally recovering from his fit of laughter. Dina shot him a look.

“I know but, after she did, she’d be so apologetic and loving and I guess I got used to it and liked the amount of love and attention she was giving me so... I stayed and forgave her, again and again. Pretty fucked up, huh?” Ellie laughed dryly.

“Oh no, honey. Even the best of us fall victim to love-bombing.” Dina said, a comforting smile on her face.

“Yeah that’s sad and everything but what about ★, you treated her like shit.” Jesse said, a hint of sourness in his voice.

“I know—fuck! I know. Cat got in my head and kept telling me that she liked me and I didn’t want to believe it because she’s my best friend for fucks sake! But in those months I was dating Cat I found myself comparing the two of them more and more and I got scared because there was no way I should’ve been in love with her so like an idiot, I pushed her away and Cat pulled me in.” Ellie sighed, the retelling of the past couple of months making her cringe at how stupid she’s been.

She paused, grabbing the joint from Dina to take another drawl. “Then that night after we kissed I realized that fuck, I was in love with her and I kinda hated dating Cat…who also took my favourite hoodie.” Ellie said with a huff.

“Damn..you lesbians and your love triangles.” Jesse said, shaking his head.

“Shut up man, I know you and Dina have your own crazy shit going on.” Ellie rolled her eyes.

“Yes.” Jesse said, getting up to pluck the almost finished joint from her hand, “We do, but we settle it internally.”

Dina nodded, “Anyways, are you and ★…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence.

“I don’t fucking know, I needed some time to think and I wanted to give her some space but it’s been weeks and I’m fucking terrified she’s never gonna speak to me again.”

Jesse shook his head, “You guys have been friends for years, just give her a little more time, she’ll come around.”

“But what if she doesn’t?” Ellie said, leaning forward to hang her head in her hands. “I miss her so fucking much you guys.”

“You need a distraction,” Dina said suddenly, clapping her hands together.

“I agree.” Jesse nodded his head, putting out the joint on the light blue ashtray sitting on the coffee table. “I’m hungry as hell, go buy us some pizza.”

“Fuck you, I’m not your butler.” Ellie rolled her eyes, again.

“Come on, you know you’re hungry too.” Dina said in a sing-songy voice.

“I’m not.” She was.

“Just go, I’ll Venmo you.” Jesse groaned.

Ellie sighed but got up anyways, grabbing her coat from the back of her seat and walking up to her door.

“Fine, but you guys better not just be trying to get me out so you can fuck, again.”

“We would never,” Dina said reassuringly.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing.” Jesse shrugged, earning another jab in the side from Dina.

Ellie rolled her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time tonight as she left her dorm. As much as they annoyed her, Ellie was grateful to have Dina (and Jesse) there to help her through whatever the hell was going on.

Her walk to the diner was a long one as she purposely took a different route to get there. She’d hate to admit it but the couple was right, she had needed a distraction and the freezing winds against her flushed skin helped along with the high from her earlier joint helping to calm her rapid thoughts and allowing her a minute to breathe.

However, when she pushed open the door to Sal’s—her favourite diner— it was like every ounce of stress that had just dissipated came flooding back x10.

“Ellie,” The girl said, giving her a tight smile from her seat on one of the old stools near the counter.

“Cat..” Ellie sighed.

When the two of them were still together, they’d spent countless date nights here sharing milkshakes and sneaking kisses in the bathroom. She’d even considered branding it “their spot” but thank god she didn’t because she probably never would’ve come back again.

“What are you doing here?” Ellie asked.

“What..just because we broke up means that I can’t come here anymore?” Cat laughed dryly, and swirl red her straw around her chocolate milkshake.

“No, I didn’t mean—“

“Kidding, I know what you meant.” Cat patted the stool next to her, “So how are you and ★? You two should be in the honeymoon stage by now, right?”

Ellie shuffled up to the counter, ordering a pepperoni and cheese pizza to go before sitting down gingerly next to Cat.

“Actually, we haven’t talked since that night.”

“You’re fucking with me,” Cat said, mouth agape.

Ellie shook her head, “Dead serious.”

Cat made a noise, something between a scoff and a laugh before turning to look at Ellie.

“You haven’t even tried reaching out to her? You fucking broke up with me because of her—“

“Among other reasons.”

She rolled her eyes, “And you haven’t even talked to her yet?”

“I’m giving her space.”

She shook her head, muttering an “I don’t fucking get you, Williams.” before returning to her milkshake.

By then, Ellie’s order was ready and she took the boxes, brushing past her ex after mumbling, “Yeah, I know.”

Ellie’s walk back to her dorm started slow, she tried collecting her thoughts, tried to organize and arrange them in a way she could understand but she couldn’t focus. Cat’s words wrung in her ears, the only thing she could pick apart from the tornado was you, you you you you.

Fucking you.

Your gorgeous eyes that always seemed to find hers and when they did fuck it was like the world stopped, and your laugh oh my god your laugh, it’d been so long since she heard your laugh and how she craved it. Don't even get her started on how you always knew exactly what to say to her when she was feeling down, and how you tasted..like everything she’d ever wished and more, and how after that night she ached to taste you again, to feel you; how just being near you immediately skyrocketed her mood. She wasn’t herself without you and she was the best version of herself when she was.

Could you be addicted to someone? She didn’t think so, but somehow with you, it seemed like you could. Ellie wasn’t sure when she’d started running, but as she felt sweat perspire on her brow and her breathing come in as quick laboured breaths all she knew is that she needed to see you.

—★

She made it back to her dorm, fumbling to open her door while balancing the pizzas in her hand. When she finally threw open the door she ignored the sight of Jesse laying his head on Dina’s lap and plopped the boxes on the coffee table.

“I’m going to go see her.” She huffed, already making her way to the door to start running to your dorm.

“What happened to space?” Jesse called out.

“Fuck space!” She yelled back, ditching the elevator and opting for the stairs. Later, she’d have given you the entire fucking solar system if you wanted, but right now? She needed to see you be close to you, hold you, kiss you.

She pumped her legs harder, silently wishing she had done track for longer than 3 months back in middle school. Her chest burned and her neck and back were slick with sweat but she was almost there. She didn’t know what the fuck she was going to say to you but she’d figure something out.

When she finally reached your building, she brushed past the residence hall director who’d seen her hundreds of times before and decided on the elevator this time to organize her thoughts a little before seeing you.

Her nerves started to catch up to her as she watched the numbers above the metal door change, was she ready to see you? What if you didn’t want to see her? What if you just straight up refused to talk to her?

Before she could chicken out, the elevator had reached your floor. She walked down the hall to your door and took three deep breaths before knocking. She heard a little shuffling from behind your door and a small gasp before you opened it, peeking your head out.

“Ellie..” You breathed.

“★. Please, I need to talk to you.”

Your eyes flashed to the floor, avoiding her pleading gaze. “Is Cat okay with you being here?”

“We broke up.”

“What?” You questioned, letting the door swing open and allowing her to take in your full form. You were wearing fuzzy pyjama pants with cute characters patterned on them and a thick oversized sweatshirt. The whites of your eyes were slightly red and the bags beneath them were prominent. She could tell you had been crying and it made her heart lurch, she wanted to pull you into her chest, breathe you in and never let go.

“Yeah, it— can I come in?” She asked.

“Uhm..” You bit your lip, probably thinking whether or not you should let her into your dorm, let her back into your life.

“Please. I promise I’ll make it quick.” She practically begged, lowering her head so she could lock her jade eyes on yours.

You nodded, moving back so she could step inside. You led her to the small couch in the living room as if she hadn’t been there thousands of times before. You sat silently across from her, eyes filled with worry and a tiny gleam of hope and she felt the urge to pull you into her chest bloom throughout her. Of course, she planned on doing that later, but as of right now, she had to set things straight.

“Let me just start off by saying, I’m sorry. ★ I’m so fucking sorry for how I treated you when I was dating Cat.” You tried and failed to ignore the way her voice cracked, pain and genuinity adorned her features.

“We were both terrible for each other but my fucked up brain thought it made sense that I was with her. That she was what I deserved…” She looked up from fidgeting hands to meet your eyes, she couldn’t read your face so she continued.

“I’d been feeling..” She paused, looking up to gather her thoughts. She never really was good with her words, but she needed you to know how much you meant to her, how much love she held for you in her heart. “Shit...I’d been feeling different when it came to you...like I swear to fucking god you’re made of sunlight and sweetness or something cause my heart swells whenever I think of you, and when you’re not with me I feel so…!” She groaned and you giggled, so soft that if her ears weren’t trained to hear and take in every sound you made she would’ve missed it, and her heart softened and swelled and spun and sputtered.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of those feelings, but that night, after we kissed. I realized that... I love you, ★. And I completely understand if you never want to see me again, God knows I don’t deserve you but—“

“Stop.” You said, suddenly standing up to walk over to her.

Her jade eyes searched yours desperately, for any sign of what you were thinking, how you were feeling if you were fighting the same urge as her to pull her into your arms and kiss her like the world was ending tomorrow.

“Stop saying that,” She looked at you, confusion flooded her features.

Your soft hands found her rough ones and the warmth that flooded from you to her made her lightheaded, how the hell was it possible to love someone this much?

“Ellie, words can’t describe how much I cared for you,”

‘cared’ She physically felt her heart rip.

“and I need you to know you deserve everything good in life.”

“Does that include you?” She said with a weak smile.

You looked to the side, dropping her hands. “You..hurt me.”

Ellie shot up faster than she’d ever moved in her life, her hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, “And I want to rip my fucking heart out every time I remember, but I need you in my life, lovebug.”

Your eyes finally met hers and you could practically hear the “whoosh” from your resolve flying out of your body. You’d never seen a shade of green so beautiful, so passionate, so desperate.

This time, it was your eyes flicking to her lips and you didn’t even have a second to pull back before her lips were on yours. This kiss had the same amount of wanting as your last one, but it was softer, slower. Like if she went too fast you’d disappear from her hands and she couldn’t lose you again.

She pulled away only to place strawberry kisses along your neck and collarbone, eliciting that same sweet sound she had heard from you only a few weeks prior and she knew she needed to have you.

Your hands tugged gently at her top and she shrugged off her coat, lips still connected to your neck. Her hands dipped beneath your sweater to trace soft squiggles against your stomach with her short nails.

She released her hold on your neck and spun you around so that you were sitting on your couch and she was towering over you.

She watched as your chest rose and fell rapidly, how your eyes met hers, glossed over in a way she’s never seen before, your soft slips glistening and slightly swollen. She’d never been more turned on in her life.

She knelt, her veiny hands hooking onto the top of your pants and underwear before she looked back up at you,

“Is it okay if I take these off?”

You nodded fervently and bit your lip as she slid them off, ever so slowly. She had waited too long to do this, you’d better believe she was going to savour each moment.

You felt the cold air hit your cunt and her mossy eyes immediately snapped to it, she looked as if she was in a trance. She’d been staring for so long you would’ve gotten self-conscious if not had she said,

“So fucking pretty.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and your eyes focused on the wall to the side of you but you scrunched them closed when you felt her lick a stripe up your folds.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend who was friends with Cat that Ellie gave insane head. And of course, anger and jealousy and bitterness swirled through you at the thought of her performing such acts on another person, so for your own well-being you denied and refused to believe it.

And fuck were you eating your words. Her tongue swirled expertly around your cunt and your eyes were practically rolling to the back of your head, and the borderline pornographic sounds you were making were like fucking music to her ears.

“Fuck so good, Ellie.”

She’d never admit it but she was a sucker for praise so with the words that fell from your beautiful mouth she made sure to speed up her movements, your legs were shaking at this point and somehow your hand had found its way into her auburn locs, tugging softly which resulted in soft grunts from her that reverberated through your body and cause a feeling like no other.

That familiar feeling began welling up inside, a knot that grew tighter, and tighter, and tighter until snap. Your thighs trembled violently and your throat felt hoarse from how much you were screaming, despite your climax, Ellie was still between your legs and the sensation was becoming a bit too much.

You tried to close your close but a veiny hand gripped your thigh, forcing you open once again. You peered down into her jade eyes, her pupils were blown so wide that they looked almost entirely black and a slight shiver ran through your body, a good shiver. They were demanding and bordering hungry.

Before you knew it her mouth was back in you, sucking and lapping up everything you would give her. It’s when her tongue slipped into you that you started to feel fucking delirious. Sobs and moans of her name tumbled out of you as your hold on her hair tightened and you were nearly riding her face.

“Ellie..fuck, please so close, ‘s close ‘s—“

Your eyebrows knitted together and a silent moan escaped you as you gushed on her face and she finally pulled away from you, giving both of you a chance to catch your breath.

“Holy shit.” She breathed out, wiping the bottom of her freckled face with the back of her hand. That hungry look at disappeared and the familiar love drunk one had replaced it.

“I should be saying that.” You said airily.

She smiled, “You taste really fucking good, y’know that?”

You shook your head bashfully and she stood up, her knees aching from kneeling so long and sat next to you before pulling you in for a short but deep kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on her tongue.

“Now you do.”

You smiled and it melted her soul just a teensy bit, but she could get sappy about it later. Right now? She needed to fuck you so good you’d laugh whenever you thought about your past lovers in comparison to her.

“Can you lay down for me, bug?” She asked, so sweetly you almost forgot she basically sent you to heaven just a few minutes prior.

She stood up to remove her shirt and briefs and allow you to remove your shirt and get comfortable on the couch. She slid between your legs, hoisting one of them over her shoulder as she aligned her hips with yours.

“Tell me if it‘s too much, alright?”

You nodded and she lowered herself onto you, her lean thighs keeping her upright as she agonizingly slowly rocked against you. You whined at her pace and she tutted.

“Come on, pretty, use your words.” She said, smirking lazily down at you.

“Need you to go faster.” You begged.

She nodded, speeding up her pace and drawing out a high-pitched whimper from you. Her eyes were practically fixed on your chest as she watched them bounce and sway with each movement. One of her hands came down to toy with your nipple while the other one held your leg steady so she could grind relentlessly against your clit.

The movements had started unsteady but as the two of you found a rhythm that was pleasurable to both of you, even Ellie couldn’t hold back the raspy moans and groans, not to mention her finger on your nipple which made your already sopping cunt gush even more, giving her the ability to glide across you back and forth.

Your hips bucked against her avidly and her eyes rolled back into her head as chants of your name fell from her lips over and over again.

“So good ★, feel ‘s good.” She rasped.

You froze beneath her as your third orgasm of the night slammed through you and your body practically went limp. Ellie followed soon after, the sight of you fucked out was better than anything her imagination could’ve stirred up and she couldn’t help but wonder how your face would look with her strap buried between you, as well as how it was a more beautiful sight than she’d ever seen with Cat or any other girl she’d been with and that was what had her reeling over the edge, creaming all over your cunt as she tremored vigorously. She collapsed onto top of you, her tattooed arm keeping her up right so she didn’t crush you as she placed open mouth kisses along your jaw, drinking in the soft giggled you gave in return.

Finally, she peeled away from you, allowing herself to catch her breath before trudging to your tiny kitchen to grab a damp rag and a glass of water, she came back and held the glass to your lips encouraging you to drink it all before setting the empty cup on the table to wipe your legs down gently.

You jumped slightly when the rag grazed your puffy clit and she mumbled out a “Sorry, bug.” before grabbing your wrist and placing a sweet kiss on it.

“So,” you sighed tiredly, “are we..”

She chuckled, “Are we…what?”

“Girlfriends..?”

She frowned and shook her head, “Oh..no.”

Your heart fell right into the deepest darkest depths of your soul. Was this just a one-time thing? Had all the things she said earlier not been true? Were you—

“I don’t have a ring yet, but I’m sure nobody would care if I start calling you my wife already.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving her softly to which she laughed.

“You have seriously got to work on your timing.”

“I know, I know…but it’s charming right?”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did.”

You let out an exasperated groan but you couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face at the sound of her laughter and her hands snaking around you to pull you into her.

And in that moment, regardless of her past with Cat and others, her past with you, the hurtful things said and less than admirable actions she’d done, she knew that you were in fact, the perfect one for her.

bonus! (^з^)-☆

“I’m telling you, these are the best milkshakes in the state.” Ellie boasted.

Jesse shook his head, “No, ★ this summer I am taking you to The Cinnamon Angel back in Seattle, Ellie doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.”

Ellie scoffed, using the arm currently wrapped around your shoulder to point an accusing finger at him, “Dude, you don’t know what you’re talking about. The Cinnamon Angel can’t even…“

Ellie’s voice drowned out when Dina rolled her eyes from across you and leaned across the booth to chat with you over Ellie’s and Jesse’s bickering.

“This isn’t what I was expecting when I suggested a double date.” She sighed sarcastically.

You giggled, “I had a feeling it was going to be like this.”

The four of you were squeezed into a tiny booth at the back of Ellie’s favourite diner, bickering bonding over salty fries and frothy milkshakes. You hadn’t talked much to Dina despite her being your girlfriend's close friend and your close friend's girlfriend, which you regret because she was so sweet and funny.

Ellie threw her arms back with a huff, officially exasperated with Jesse, “Dina, I really don’t know how you put up with this guy, let alone date him.”

“Eh, he’s not all bad.” She smirked, nudging him with her shoulder.

You laughed but it was quick to die out when your eyes trailed over to the entrance after the familiar sound of bells signaled someone walking in.

Dark eyes fell on yours and you were met with a grim expression, Ellie followed where you were looking and the arm that was around your shoulder tightened slightly.

The raven head trekked over to your booth, greeting both you and Ellie with a tight smile.

“You two are so cute together!” She said flatly.

You grinned, ignoring the sarcasm that laced her voice “Thank you!”

“Definitely cuter than you and Ellie ever were,” Jesse mumbled into his milkshake and Dina turned her head, trying and failing to hide her laugh.

Cat rolled her eyes before pretending to drop something and bending to pick up nothing so she could whisper, “You two aren’t going to last, you’re not even her type.”

Anger bloomed through you, seriously, what the hell was this girl's damage? Before she could walk away you stuck your foot out causing her to stumble and turn around to face you, glaring daggers. Ellie must’ve heard what she’d said though, because one of her long fingers pulled the neck of your shirt back just a sliver, revealing the prominent mark she had made just a few nights prior.

Ellie’s jade eyes bored into her damn, if looks could kill.

You smiled sweetly and leaned into Ellie’s arm.“I beg to differ.”

Cat’s face reddened embarrassingly quickly and you could practically see the steam shooting out of her ears, she turned around hastily and stomped out of the diner and you’d hoped she could hear the boisterous laughter that bubbled out of each of you after the door had closed.

tagz (^з^)-☆

@blvebanisters @cassharass @pick-me-up-im-scared @skylerwhitwyo @lil-elliesgf @elsmissingfingers @herdelreydear @koremis @gold-dustwomxn @whenlostinthedarkness

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie smut #ellie fanfiction #ellie fluff #ellie angst #ellie fic #ellie au #dina the last of us #jesse tlou

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iwaasfairy · 5 months

Note

bones and all +hq! (anyone) just something super fucked up with lots of blood 💋🫀

this was so sexyyyy idk I’m very into gross icky blood stuff rn

tw murder, gore, yandere

Red coats the walls. It splatters out into grasping hands with each brutal blow, baseball bat full of nails shattering the bone below it until the whining dies down. Along with the frantic screaming, and you sink to your knees at the sight. Within seconds, your housemate has been reduced to a heap of meat and bone and sinew, leaving her coppery tang in the air. Your legs have buckled, and now you’re on the cold floor, there’s nothing you can do but watch and shake.

The blood pools under her legs, because those are intact -upper body too. But gunk and brain matter is spilled on your floor, and the puddle of red gains surface the longer you stare, trying not to hurl your guts out. If you could look away you would. If you could run, you would. A low puff of air sounds, before the invader turns on his heel and stares you down. “There she is.” It’s faint, almost apologetic in its delivery. He pulls the mask down his mouth as he wipes the back of his hand over his face.

Your hands shake uncontrollably in your lap, and the stinging in your face surges through your bones. Atsumu.

“Ya missed my entrance,” he’s got a grin on his face - but his eyes are so blown out it’s hard to believe it really is him. For a few moments, he looks entirely, sickly unfamiliar. Not long enough to give you time to collect yourself before he approaches though, dragging the bloody bat along with him. “Sorry ‘bout yer little friend. Came at me with scissors… The bitch’s almost as wild as you are when yer upset.”

He has a frown on his face when he looks back, but the slightest curl to his lips doesn’t slip. His hands come up to hold onto your shoulder as he sighs. “So,” he lets out a soft hum, and then thumbs along your cheek with his hands still stained, bloodied as he touches you, “r’ya ready ta go?” You can’t help but feel bad. Even moving your eyes up to look at him feels like it’s taking all the energy you have.

This is all your fault. Atsumu came for you. You’d signed the papers and found a friend to live with, and you had hoped that would’ve been enough - but you didn’t think… you- Nao tried to protect you, and now she’s gone. There was a time you would’ve trusted Tsumu with your life. “Y-you,” your throat locks up when you say it, and the wobbly vision gets too much, spilling over, “wh-what did you do? Why?”

The blond barely pulls up his nose, before giving you a look. “Didn’t ya hear me? I came in through the window an’ she came at me. Couldn’t be helped.” The way his hand is still around the makeshift weapon somehow doesn’t convince you of his perceived innocence. Almost as soon as you think that, he follows your gaze, and slowly starts chuckling as he realizes the same thing. “Baby doll…”

You scramble. Atsumu drops the bat to crash himself into you and grab at your arms, but one well aimed kick onto his knee has him wincing, and it gives you just enough time to get up and dash towards the door. That also means running through the pool of liquid slowly drying on the floor, but your vision’s so blurry that you don’t even register it. You slip as you slam the door behind you and Tsumu curses— your heart’s pumping so hard you don’t hear it.

Not until someone gets a fistful of your hair and yanks you back so hard you think your scalp might come clean off. Until you land in the cold gravel and a foot pushes into your soft throat. Tsumu’s able to make it out narrowly before your vision starts blurring at the edges, and you claw at the limb for air. “Samu, ya’ll hurt ‘er.” As soon as you get a tiny bit of leeway you’re grabbing at the skin and hacking up spit, painfully tight airways burning.

Osamu only glares back at the blond. “‘I got it covered, Samu. Don’t be a bore, Samu,’” he mocks, before crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Yer sloppy, ‘n lucky I was ‘ere ta stop ‘er.”

“Yea, yea,” the other man sighs, before he crouches by you and lovingly brushes your hair away from your face. “Yer cute when ya try so hard, y’know. Gets us going.” He snickers, then raises a brow. “Samu won’t admit it but it gets him goin’ too. But next time ya get caught… we’ll take one of yer fingers. That’s only fair.”

#monkey fun.event #tw.murder #tw.gore #tw.yandere #miya atsumu #🍯honey.pot #💫ch.atsumu #💫ch.osamu

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fountainpenguin · 6 months

Text

Liveblogging Grian's Session 3 Secret Life POV:

slkdjfsldkfjslkdjfslksdjf-

Grian, who is now soulbound to Joel, rushes over and pines for him in a needy way. Joel brushes him off because "One second, I'm bonding." Grian: "I might need you to un-bond. Joel..."

Joel really did take one look at Grian's task and immediately throw himself off a cliff so Grian took damage.

Grian adopts the role of Joel's bodyguard.

Joel runs to his wife who calls Grian creepy. Joel and Lizzie start fighting and Grian just stands there like "... Aren't you married?"

Scar asks Joel to undress in front of him and Grian screeches.

This all happens within 5 minutes.

Grian: "I'll be a good friend and just shut up."

Joel left Grian to his own devices and he immediately went home and burned down his staircase base.

Me, still playing the video while typing this liveblog: "Lol, I know this isn't the vibe, but you could spin this around and interpret it like he's lonely and wants to move in with Joel." Grian, immediately: "My house is on fire, Joel! Now I can move in with you! <3"

sldkfj the irony of Grian saying "I don't want to be friends with Tim; I did that last time" (Bad Boys in Limited Life) while hanging out with Joel, the other Bad Boy.

Joel: "I might just re-roll for a hard task. For one thing, if I fail and lose 10 hearts, then you lose them too-" Grian: "WHAAAAT???"

Joel chilling and watching Grian fight a zombie: "Protect me Grian."

Jimmy: "He seems to be following Joel around a lot." Grian, dying inside: "We're not that close."

sdkjflh Grian mocking Mumbo like "How can you be so into cars and not know how to drive a camel? It's only a few letters' difference!"

I love Grian and Mumbo crawling and Grian turns around and kicks Mumbo in the face like "Can you feel the Feather Falling IV on those babies?"

I've only seen Tango's and half of Grian's POVs so far, but I'm guessing Mumbo's task isn't necessarily to kill the camel, but to prevent Scar from riding the camel? That's hilarious. Can't argue with the logic that Scar cannot ride a dead camel.

Obsessed with Joel and Grian standing under the cherry tree as the blossoms fall around them and Grian's like "My best friend!" and Joel just leans in and says "I demand your heart."

Grian: "... Maybe we should go somewhere more private for that? Your wife is right there." sldkfj

I appreciate Joel towering up while Grian starts screaming that the Yellows are coming and he needs to keep going higher, all while Martyn is trying to scramble up to him. I presume the rule is that if you're calling someone out on their task, you have to do it face to face, so you can avoid this by running away? That's hilarious.

Joel looks so comfy in his hoodie skin. Good for him.

Grian, chasing endermen and trying to hit them with boats: "Not even this enderman wants to be my friend!!"

Grian: "I have an idea. If I want friends, I have to make my base friend-shaped."

Cracking up at everyone in the courthouse getting jumpscared by the dramatic music sting. Grian cackling and clapping down one hand like "I lay down the rules in this server!"

I feel like we can definitely run with Scar watching Mumbo face the Secretkeeper, which puffs out its little red dust clouds, and muttering to Grian: "I just had a vision of Mumbo's eyes turning red for a second." </3

sldkjf Scott's task being to get people to say "Love you" back to him. He starts listing off people who said it back, then says "Pearl didn't say it back." The divorce quartet drama continues.

Grian: "I've got Feather Falling IV! Watch this!" /takes fall damage.

Wheezing at Grian watching BigB run off like "I don't know game BigB's playing, but it's not Secret Life."

Session 3 Grian POV <3

#Grian #Joel Smallishbeans #Secret Life #Secret Life spoilers #Secret Life SMP spoilers #mcyt #Riddle watches Traffic #trafficblr #traffic life smp #traffic spoilers #MumboJumbo #GoodTimesWithScar #bigbst4tz2 #BigB #galaxy duo #divorce quartet

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acaaai-t · 11 months

Text

resurface, my love

01. whispers of the wind

[fem! reader x villain! scaramouche]

cw: violence, blood, kidnapping, usage of guns, mentions of illegal drug trades, lots of cursing, bits of fluff and angst

Scaramouche was pissed.

It was evident with the grip he had on the newspaper.

His subordinates stood in the corner of the room, heads downcast. No words were spoken, for none wishes to be the one suffering under the wrath of the Balladeer.

On the small HD television hanging above his desk, a news broadcast began to play. Scaramouche brought his eyes up to watch it, his interest piqued.

"Our ever reliable detective has once again solve another puzzling crime! This breakthrough of the undergoing illegal drug trade has finally been stopped. So how did you do it, young detective?"

The camera panned to your face. He narrowed his eyes.

"Well, someone gave an anonymous tip about the whereabouts of the drug trade. All I did was crack the code and—" he switched the television off.

The silence was deafening.

Scaramouche slammed the newspaper to the side, the sound resonating around the too-empty room.

"How the fuck did you guys mess up this badly?" he growled. "I gave specific instructions and none of you were able to follow it?" His voice had an dangerous edge to it.

The room was still.

"You," he snarled, pointing at the male agent trembling in the corner. "Tell me everything that happened."

…

"You look worn out, are you alright?" your boss, Kujou Sara, asked.

You waved your hand. "I'm fine, it's just being surrounded by cameras all day drained me."

Sara laughed and patted your back. "I wouldn't be surprise. This case has been ongoing for years, you're the only one who've managed to close it."

"Well it was mostly thanks to that anonymous tip. If it wasn't for that, I feel this would never end," you said, a tired smile appearing.

"You are our best decoder here, couldn't replace you even if I tried," Sara said. "I'll take my leave now. You should quickly finish up too, everyone left already. Don’t tire yourself out too much.”

You nodded. "Night Sara."

The door clicked shut.

What was that message suppose to mean? Was it meant to be a threat? Should I tell Sara?— what if it was just a harmless prank?

You mindlessly typed away on your computer, yet you just could not bring yourself to focus on your work. It was unrelenting with the way it kept repeating over and over again in your mind.

The typing stopped. You couldn't bear it any longer. This continuous heavyweight of stress will only keep growing, festering until the host, you, finally suffocate under the pressure. It begs— screams to be free.

Pushing your chair back, you walked over to your window and nudged it opened it. A puff of the chilly autumn air gently tugged at the collar of your shirt.

The light glimmer of the moonlight was a dull comparison to the galaxy of clinquant star, the glittering white specks stretching across the vast skies of Teyvat.

"Stars..” you breathed out.

The two of you use to stargaze. It was a monthly routine, whenever the skies cleared the clouds for the river of stars to sparkle— was when the two of you lay next to each other on the grass, facing the deep blue empyrean.

He would point out the various constellations to you, rambling on about what it was and what it meant.

"I never thought you would be the one into astrology," you said. "Thought it was just a me thing."

Scaramouche rolled his eyes. "I'm a man of many things, what did you expect?"

You laughed.

No, he would never admit it.

He'd rather die than tell you that he'd learn about the stars of the sky just so he could tell you everything about it. He'd rather die than tell you that it was all because he wanted to see you smile, to hear your laughter. To see the surprise that lights up your eyes.

You wiped away an unsuspecting tear rolling down your cheeks. Everything was a constant reminder that the boy you once love is gone.

You hated it.

You could only drown yourself in work, taking on more cases than you should in an effort to forget his voice, his face— everything. But no matter how hard, how much you try, it just doesn't work.

For you could still feel the ghost of his touch brushing against your cheek, you could still hear his voice, calling out to you.

The soft humming of your computer brought you back.

Right, there was still work needed to be to finish. You sighed and pushed yourself away from the window.

"I'll just finish this page up, then l'll clock out," you muttered.

You sat back down on your chair and spun around in a useless attempt to calm your mind. A golden glint in the corner of your room caught your eye. You stopped spinning.

What's that?

It was a tiny pin in a shape of a badge. You squinted closer, there was an insignia stamp on it. It closely resembled something, yet you couldn't placed your mind on exactly what it is. You took out your phone and snapped a picture of it. Sending the picture to Heizou, you had made sure to ask him if he knew what that insignia represented.

Plink!

Startled, you looked up to where the source of noise came from, but there was nothing. It just you alone in your office.

Plink!

There it was again. You frowned, tucking your phone into your back pocket.

Suddenly the lights dimmed. Someone had cut the power to the entire building.

There wasn't enough time for you to react, for you froze—words caught up in your throat. You could see it, the tiny crack appearing on the windowpane. Whatever it was, it was slowly breaking down the barrier protecting you from the outside.

Slowly backing off, you reached for the gun tucked under your desk. The crack grew bigger. A silhouette of a person came into view. Your hands curled around the handle of the gun and tore it away from the hostler. A quick click had your gun locked and loaded.

You held your breath and slid under your desk.

The spiderweb crack only grew bigger before it effectively shattered— a loud 'ouch' following suit. Whoever was behind it must've gotten impatient and opted to punch through the glass instead.

Your eyes mirrored the reflection of the crumbling glass under the moonlight.

“Stupid lieutenants... always making me do the dirty work..." you heard the unknown muttering. A male— judging by the pitch of his voice.

There was the sound of glass breaking as the shadow of a man clambered in though the window, effectively blocking your only source of light.

He's in.

You dare not move.

"Anyone here? Hello?" his voice was gruff. "Hey little girl, I know you're in here. I saw you."

He stopped right at your desk and shoved the chair away.

You heard it crash into the bookshelf. A pair of dirty winter boots was all you could see.

Go away, you don't see me.

Much to your dismay, he didn't leave. You felt the blood rush up to your head when you saw him slowly bending down.

Fuck.

You came face to face with a man in dressed black and teal, a tall navy blue hat along with his black mask obscured his face. The only visible feature you could see was his golden orbs.

"Found you," there was a malicious glint in his eyes.

You didn't know what overcame you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or it was purely on instinct— but whichever it may be had you aiming the gun at his face. You didn't think twice, squeezing your eyes shut and pulling the trigger. The resonating bang made you wince.

His figure went still, then slowly, he toppled backwards and crashed onto the floor— a pool of ugly red blood slowly seeping out.

I killed him.

"Hey Cor are you okay? I heard a gun go off," a new voice trailed over. The moonlight was once blocked again, a flashlight glaring over at corpse. "Cor— holy shit! Guys over here, hurry up! Cor?! Are you alive?!"

You wasted no time in scrambling away from the expired individual. The door nearly flew off its hinges as you bursted through. Fuck if the damages you've done would cost you a portion of your monthly salary, all it mattered to you was getting out. If you were fast enough, you could make it to the nearest police station to report the break-in— and attempted kidnapping.

The attackers were hot in pursuit. You heard the ever so familiar sound of a gun being loaded. A bullet whizzed by you, hitting the wooden structure of the building. You heard the wall cracked just the slightest bit.

The Tenryo House has never been so big before. Room after rooms, there just never seem to be an end to it. Your lungs burned. Everything seemed like a maze.

Suddenly a group of two blocked the only way you could escape. You looked back, the other band was also rapidly approaching. “Shit…” you mumbled. There were people blocking the only exit. You could only conclude that the perimeter of the building was also surrounded.

"Hey little girl," you could hear the heinous intent in his voice. "Now why don't you surrender? It'll be so much easier.

"As if,” you sneered, gun raised.

One of the bigger guys stepped forward. You tensed up, the rhythm of your heart beating in your head. He charged at you, his knife aimed for your eye.

Years of training kicked in. The gun was immediately lowered. You dodged to one side, barely avoiding death.

Scaramouche’s voice echoed in your head.

"You need to learn how to fight," Scaramouche had demanded.

"What? Why?" at that time you had complained. "I don't need to know how to fight. Can't you protect me?"

You frantically looked around, searching for anything that could be of help. Your gun was near useless, for you could clearly see the thick bulletproof vest strapped on tightly.

A knife, a wrench, anything you could use to defend yourself, to kill. You yelped as the knife whooshed by, just missing your head by a hairs breadth.

By this time the other group had already caught up, their weapons were locked on you. None dared fired yet, for why ruin a show spectacularly put on for them?

"I- I won't always be around to protect you," was his reply.

The front desk spilt in half, pens spilling everywhere.

Your opponent had long abandoned his knife— tossed away somewhere. Instead, he chose to use his fists. It was like playing tag but deadlier with a block of pure muscle.

You could only run. The only advantage you have over him was your nimbleness. You were a graceful swan drifting in the smooth waters, and he was the stark contrast— a giant stumbling through a cave too small.

There was no way you could escape from the Commission without him decking you.

You were beaten near unconscious. Bruises bloomed all over your body, specks of blood and dust dirtied your dress.

His fists were curled up into tiny balls. Dirt and grime covered his clothes in ugly splotches of brown. He wiped a bloody streak away from his face. His gaze was piercing as he stared down the two boys.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he sounded insane.

When his fists made contact with your stomach, you could do nothing, your wind knocked out of you. The second hit came, then the third, fourth.

You stumbled backwards each time the blow came upon you. Blocking each hit was getting increasingly difficult.

The light flickered back to life. For just the briefest moment, everyone paused. Then the lightbulb promptly exploded, leaving the room once again pitch-black.

That seconds under the bright light was your newfound source of energy, for you had saw everything you needed to know. Pushing away the pain throbbing in your lower abdomen, you made a break for the blade lying on the floor.

He was upon you almost instantly.

You felt an immense pressure on top of you. Your breath was knocked out. Yet despite this, you still grabbed onto the dagger and wrenched it towards yourself.

Mere seconds was all you need, an opening of some sort. Perhaps the gods above heard your wishes, for he suddenly froze over.

Seizing this moment, you jammed the knife into the only opening you found— his eye. Blood slowly dripped down his face, the knife firmly lodged in. With minor difficulty, you pulled the knife out.

It was then that his cries of pain came. You were released from his hold, tumbling to the side. His comrades ran to his side, a roll of bandages already in their hands.

You took this chance to run. In a way you felt bad, but it was a life or death situation. It was either you or him, and there can only be one winner.

One of them barked out an order. You couldn’t exactly hear what they said, but their actions told enough. Seemingly fed up with your antics, they began pelleting you with what’s left of their bullets.

One grazed your cheek and another clipped your arm. You felt your arm burn. The pain wasn’t noticeable at first, but then it started to fucking hurt. You used your hand to cover the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. It was useless. Blood kept gushing out, staining your new shirt in a deep crimson.

The exit was right in front of your eyes. You shouldered through the two agents standing by the door, accidentally tripping one over in the process. Small droplets of blood trailed behind you.

The fresh air of Inazuma hits your face. It felt refreshingly cold— calming the burning pain in your arms for just the tiniest moment. You weren’t given enough time to relish it before the few remaining guys also came through, guns aimed.

You yelped and quickly ran behind a random building, only to encounter a poor straggler who seemed just as surprise to see you as you are to see him. No chances were taken though. With one fell swoop, you had knocked him unconscious.

You can’t rest, not yet. The pattering of their boots were heavy against the pavement as each spilt into smaller parties to search for you. Time was ticking.

Very slowly, you removed your hand from your wound. The bleeding had slowed, but blood was still dribbling out. You’d searched the unconscious person for any sort of first aid. As luck would have it, you found a small kit. In it was a small roll of gauze, a couple of alcohol prep pads, and bandages of all kinds.

You ripped opened the alcohol pads and took in a deep breath. It took every ounce of energy to suppress a scream building up. Your arms trembled.

“Now you see why you have to fight?” he was angry, yet not angry enough to leave you unattended.

“Yeah.. sorry,” you mumbled. You yelped when Scaramouche dabbed at your wounds. “Ah— Scara! A warning please.”

“Sorry.”

“You are not sorry, I can see you laughing— ouch!”

The roll of gauze may be short, but it was enough to temporarily patch your wound. You sealed it off with a Sailor Moon bandage. The bullet dug into your flesh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on the pain right now.

Not in this dire situation. Footsteps were slowly approaching, each step slow. You frantically took out your phone.

“And what,” your blood ran cold. “Do you think you’re doing?”

You froze, phone slipping away. The cool muzzle of a small pistol was pressed up against your temple.

“Put the phone down.”

You did as told.

“Both hands up.”

You raised one arm.

“I said both.”

“I can’t,” you rebutted. “Your people shot my arm and now I can’t move it without screaming in pain.”

You heard her scoff. “Fucking idiots. Couldn’t even follow a simple order. And you. You are really weak, do you know? Can’t even handle a little bit of pain?”

Your free hand slowly edged towards the pistol lying by the unconscious fellow. “Well miss, have you ever been shot before?” you replied through gritted teeth.

She grinned. “Plenty.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You’re stalling for time,” she said. A flying mirror next to her glittered. It suddenly flashed red. “Get up.”

“So it doesn’t hurt? Then I suppose another one shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

You smiled and pointed the gun at her. Two shots was all it took for her body to go limp. The mirror fell to the side, cracked.

“The Maiden— she collapsed!”

“She’s been shot! Get the medic here!”

“Is she dead?!”

She wasn’t dead, you hadn’t shoot to kill. You had only fatally wounded her, rendering her temporarily useless.

The unconscious fellow stirred. They weren’t fully awake yet, but just for good measures, you dropped a semi-empty crate on their head. They knocked out once again.

You grabbed the Maiden’s broken mirror and ran. Perhaps Heizou can analyze it for you.

More enemies emerged from the shadows of the alleyways. Bullet shells tinkled against the pavement. Standing out in the open was far too risky.

An huge explosion rocked the ground. You stumbled and looked up, the image of fire and smoke mixed together reflecting in your eyes. Horror dawned on you when your realized they had just bombed the police station.

Another explosion was heard, this time seemingly closer to you. With no other choices left, you began running towards your abode. That was the only place you could find temporary sanctuary in.

A wail of a baby filled up the silence of the streets, followed by hushed chatter from citizens who had opened their window to look at the commotions. You heard the patters of footsteps closing in behind you.

“Just run, don’t stop,” you whispered to yourself.

“The next time they approach you, just run to me. Or punch them,” he said. “Either way works.”

“I don’t want to hurt them…”

“Simple, I’ll beat them up for you.”

Ducking through closed shops and weaving around in narrow alleyways, it wasn’t long before you reached home, completely out of breath. You grew up running around the streets of East Side Inazuma, so every twists and turns you’re familiar with. They were definitely strangers to this land, no doubt were you given a head start.

Pushing your keys in through the lock hole, you pushed opened the door just as quickly as you shut it. After making sure that every window, every door, was locked, you climbed upstairs to your bedroom.

Grabbing your first aid, you tore open your hastily made bandages. It was the same grueling process all over again—the stinging and burning of it. You checked the severity of your wound in the mirror.

Oh shit…

You could clearly see the silver glow of the bullet firmly wedged into the tissue of your skin. There was no way to get it out unless you seek professional help or you self-operate.

You could only carefully patch up your wound and hoped for the best. Tossing your jacket to the side, you changed into a more comfy wear, something suitable for both running and fighting. You were just tying your shoelaces when the door to your bedroom flew off its hinges.

It nearly crashed upon you. Standing by the doorframe was a small group consisting of maybe 7 people. More people than you liked in your house. The one standing in front— the ringleader, spoke up. Her purple lantern cackled with electrical energy.

“Now, either we can do this peacefully or we can do this the hard way,” she said, holding up two fingers. “You choose.”

“How about we do this outside and not in my room?”

She laughed. “And risk letting you get away again? Sorry love, you don’t make the choice here. If I were you, I’d surrender peacefully.” She smiled, revealing a neat row of sharp teeth.

“I’d rather not,” you said. “All of you started chasing and shooting me without even giving a reason as to why. There is no way in hell would I follow you.”

She sighed and shook her head, green hair swaying. “Then I suppose it can’t be helped.”

“No it can’t be.”

“You’ve made a bad choice,” she smiled again and disappeared in a flash of purple thunder. Small purple bats radiating a purple aura screeched.

And then they charged.

There was only so many that can fit in the room and they had all stupidly gotten themselves stuck in the doorframe, trying to fit through.

One managed to squeeze through, heading for you. In her hand held syringe containing some sort of green liquid sloshing around. You were prepared for this. When she came close enough, you grabbed her arm— the one with the syringe, and easily slammed her to the floor.

You smiled, proud of yourself. You didn’t spend years leaning how to fight for it to go to waste.

Another one came at you, and you ducked him. He crashed over to your desk, scattering everything onto the floor. You took this chance to ram into him, promptly using his body to smash your window.

You picked up the syringe from the hands of the unconscious person and began swinging it around. The tip eventually found its way to someones neck and they collapsed, body convulsing.

The temperature of your room suddenly dropped. The crowd of people parted, allowing a large man dressed in icy blue to step in. Your collection of keychains jingled with each step he took. He held out a large machine of some sort and pointed the nozzle at you.

What the fuck.

The machine whirred loudly, and you slowly backed towards the broken window. Eerie white mist pooled out from it. You felt goosebumps running down your arms.

It doesn’t take an idiot to know that you’ll probably die if you don’t get away in time.

You threw your chair at him to stall for time. Then you carefully crawled out the window as best as you can without cutting yourself open. Jagged shards scraped against your pants.

The jump down from the second floor to ground level wasn’t too high, you noted. Maybe you can make it down there without breaking a leg or two.

You shimmied over to the edge and took a deep breath. The people behind you crawled towards you. It reminded you of that time when centipedes began crawling out in massive groups from a ventilator and scaring the ever living shit out of you. You shivered at that memory, cold sweat clinging onto you.

You jumped.

Something crunched, you heard it. You check yourself for any injuries, but there was none.

Then what?…

You turned back around and nearly screamed. It was the body of the unfortunate enemy that had slipped and fell, their back bent at an awkward angle. A badge of some sort clattered against the pavement, rolling to a stop by your shoe. You picked it up and scampered away.

The badge— or pin, was exquisitely designed. Yet the more you examine it, the more you felt like you’ve seen this before.

Isn’t this…

An arm wrapped around your waist, the other suppressing your terrified screams. You angrily thrashed around, eyes wide in horror. The badge fell.

You raised one arm back and elbowed them as hard as you can. Adrenaline rush through your body once again as the grip around you loosened.

He stumbled back. One hand clutched at his nose. You could see blood gushing out from it.

With his free hand, he whipped out a butterfly knife. He looked like an maniac, smiling with blood dripping down his chin.

The group of enemies caught up. He held a hand out, and they all came to a stop.

“I’ll handle this,” his voice was gruff. You eyed him. Judging by his attire, he must be one of the higher ranking ones. The badges and small medals says it all.

The moon was at its fullest tonight, stars gleaming in the clear skies. It would’ve been the perfect night to go stargazing. The sight was almost beautiful if you weren’t literally fighting for your life.

You kept a steady rhythm in your mind, keeping yourself focus on the glint of the weapon.

A slash to the right. You dodged to the left. He barreled towards you. You dropped to the ground and swung your legs out. He fell, but was up not even seconds later. It’s the same all over again, block, parry, hit, get hit.

Dimly lit lanterns swung from the chilly breeze. It’s soft golden glow basked the streets in a warm blanket. His attacks were speeding up. Your body was worn out from the entire night of fighting and running. You don’t know how long you can keep going until you finally collapse from the exhaustion.

He was a blur of colors. You just couldn’t keep up. Not anymore.

The wound in your left arm was raging up in pain once again. You lower your guard for the just slightest moment, trying to catch your breath.

There wasn’t time for you to move, let alone react. You completely blanked out.

By the time you’ve snapped back, he was right in front of you— his blade piercing through your lower abdomen.

You couldn’t breath.

Everything began to blur together into blocks of colors. You could feel the warm blood slowly tricking down your stomach. Blood began pouring out when he removed the weapon. You stumbled.

“Give me the sedative.”

His voice sounded so faraway. “Fuckyou…” your words were slurred together. “No...”

“Tell the lord we’ve got her.”

Your eyes were half-lidded, movements sluggish. The engine of a van could be heard pulling up next to you. A blurry face appeared in your vision.

“Sleep well… never… have… back.”

His voice was fading away. You fought the the drowsiness overtaking you, but alas, the sedative was just too strong. The shattered mirror in your pocket fell with a quiet clink.

The last thing you could remember was excited mumbling of the onlookers, the feeling of your body being poked and prodded at, and the giant title plastered on the van that read, “NORTHLAND BANK.”

It was then you finally realized who was after you. The familiar print on the badges… you could only pray that Heizou— or someone, would be able to see what’s wrong.

It’s the Fatui, you bitterly thought to yourself. Of course it was the Fatui.

It was all you could remember before sleep consumed your consciousness, pulling you into the depths of nothingness.

…

“A blade; light as a feather, delicate as a bird,” he softly hummed to himself. “That blade; weighted and broken... wouldn’t you agree, my dear friend?”

The small creature curled up in his shoulder nuzzled its head against his chin. His fingers danced along the hilt of his katana.

“The moon is gorgeous tonight,” he murmured. “Let’s go report our findings to him, shall we?”

previous || series m.list || next

synopsis— [✩]

— you, the hero, disappears overnight, and the only person who looks is the villain. Not your friends, not your family, not the news reporter or any of the people who claimed to love you. Just him, Scaramouche, the very same person who claimed to hate you.

notes— [✩]

— as you can clearly tell by this chapter, I am not good at writing fight scenes 🙏 (ANYONE WANT TO TAKE A GUESS AS TO WHO IT WAS AT THE END)

taglist— [✩`·CLOSED]

@akairaindrops @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @elernity @shayewrites @angel-suicides @magica-ren @kyouzki @nana-bri @avxntxrine @bleedingwhiteroses222 @rainingduringsummer @darthvada @dan9a-00 @omgblade-starrail @kichiyoshi @inufinuf @vvyeislazzy @alatusorrow @franaby @mellowberrie @sketcheeee @etherisy @crmnic @arizzu @vrisso @id3ru @mochicurls21 @kairuthewriter @suqarlaced @saetorii @anura100000 @divinechicha @starlightaura @karablueyt @supercoolusernameomg @uhh-traashyy @kazuuhhaaaa

[italicized usernames means I cannot tag you]

#[💫] acaaai-t #resurface my love #genshin #genshin impact #genshin series #genshin x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #genshin angst #genshin fluff

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 8 months

Text

Problem Solved

Summary: Problems are stacking up in Y/N's life. Does Beau have the solution?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N

Warnings/Explicit 18+: None. Just kissing. Fluff. Stressed!Reader. Beau being an angel.

Word Count: 3,594

A/N: So, I wrote this fluffy piece for my friend @deanswaywardgirl who's been having a rough time and just needed some fluffy Beau to get her through. I'm sorry my dear, this ended up quite a bit longer than I'd planned, and I'm sorry it took me more than a day to get it to you, but I hope it helps. And I hope everyone enjoys the fluffiness.

The beautiful divider below and at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

"Goddamn-son-of-a-bitch-piece-of-shi-"

"You know," Beau's deep drawl interrupted Y/N's strung together, angry cursing, "I don’t understand how someone so sweet and innocent looking, can manage to curse bluer than a sailor."

Y/N stopped trying to juggle her purse, her car keys, multiple grocery bags and an empty coffee cup long enough to turn to Beau and frown at his amusement.

"I've practiced a lot." She said succinctly.

She waited a moment and then shook her head, eyebrows raised. "Oh don't worry, I'm good. Definitely don't need any help here, Sheriff." She said, dripping sarcasm.

Beau chuckled at her pouty, out-of-sorts face before reaching to grab what looked like the heaviest paper bag. As he took it from her, however, one of the bags she still held split open and sent a third of her groceries rolling across the parking lot.

A scream of frustration erupted from her throat before the next round of cursing.

"Piss-poor-goddam–shoddy-piece-" She rambled as she set her third bag on the ground and began chasing down her runaway canned goods as they rolled down the sloping parking lot. Beau set his bag next to hers and helped her wrangle the cans and a bag full of oranges back into their arms.

"Looks like your day is going great so far, darlin." Beau teased as he piled the cans onto the back seat.

A chunk of hair had worked its way loose from Y/N’s ponytail and she blew a puff of air upwards trying to get it out of her face, while Beau took the bags she held out to him, and put them in the back seat as well.

"Yeah, it's been a really peachy morning, beginning with my kitchen sink exploding on me when I tried to make coffee, drenching me in the process. I told my landlord and he said he'd 'try to fix it'." Y/N said with finger quotes.

Beau slammed the back door shut and Y/N slumped against the side of the car. He gave her a sympathetic look as he stood in front of her, the thumb of his right hand hooked over the waistband of his jeans and his left hand shoved in his pocket.

Y/N continued recounting her less than stellar morning. “So I’ve had no coffee yet today because I came with my cup,” she said, lifting the reusable, plastic coffee cup she still held, “planning on getting coffee from the diner before I went grocery shopping, but their stupid machine is broken. So now I’m just carrying around this useless cup cause it doesn’t fit in my purse.”

She let out another huff, and opened the driver’s side door to throw her purse and the cup inside, before slamming it shut a bit harder than necessary.

Beau frowned. “Why didn’t you just throw the cup back in your car before you went into the grocery store?”

Y/N looked puzzled for a moment before she frowned. “I don’t know!” She said, throwing her arms up. “Because I’m an idiot and I’m operating without coffee!”

Beau chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Anything perishable in your groceries? Something that won't keep for an hour or so?"

Y/N shook her head, puzzled. "No, just pantry stuff and fruit."

"Then come with me." He said and pulled her along with him, still tucked into his side. He led them over to his big red truck and helped her climb up into the cab.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, slightly exasperated.

"To the place that serves the best coffee in town." He answered, as he closed the door.

***

Y/N took a long sip of coffee and sighed contentedly. It may not have actually been the best coffee in town, but it was dark, and rich, and creamy and she could practically feel the caffeine flowing through her veins.

She called back through the door of Beau’s little silver trailer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to help make lunch?” She asked because it was the polite thing to do, and she felt a bit guilty just sitting and relaxing while Beau did all the work. But she was incredibly relieved when he declined.

“No way, sweetheart. First of all, there’s no room for two people in this quote/unquote kitchen. And second, you’ve earned the right to relax. I’ll be done in a minute.”

Y/N sighed again and took another big gulp of coffee. This one burnt the roof of her mouth a bit, but she still didn’t care. After the morning she had, this was paradise. She’d only been to Beau’s one other time, and she just waited in the car while he ran in to grab something. She’d never seen the inside, or got to experience the beautiful view from his front porch.

She looked around now and took it all in. Montana sure was beautiful. It was world’s away from her old life in Manhattan, where you could barely see the sky, never mind mountains and forest. She’d left New York only three months ago, but every day she was here, her old life fell further and further into mere memory.

She’d spent the last ten years of her life going non-stop. Columbia - four years for her undergrad then another four at medical school. Eight years excelling at something she didn’t want to do.

So - two years into her residency she’d made the incredibly impulsive decision to leave it all behind. The move shocked and horrified her parents.

It was practically a family tradition to go to Columbia and become a doctor. Her grandfather, her father, her aunt, and a bevy of cousins had all attended Columbia to become doctors and then gone on to make a fortune in ritzy private practices.

Only one cousin that she knew of had bucked the system a bit, deciding to practice in a free clinic in Queens rather than open another high priced office that catered to the rich people of New York, of which there were many.

That cousin didn’t get invited to many family functions.

But if she was ostracized for serving underprivileged people, she was still worlds above where Y/N found herself now. Living states away in Montana and training in veterinary medicine.

She’d always been interested in animal care. But when, at fourteen years old, she told her mother and father that she wanted to be a veterinarian, they had just stared at her like she’d grown a second head. She tried to explain to them how much she loved animals, and the idea of being able to work with them everyday, help them and heal them appealed to her immensely. She tried to explain that she’d still be using her aptitude for science, she’d just be applying it in a field that excited her.

But the answer had been a resounding no, and she’d been pushed further down the road towards Columbia. She’d reluctantly followed that path. She thought her parents probably knew best, and she didn’t bring it up to them again.

Until three months ago when she’d informed them that she’d left her residency program and enrolled herself for the fall semester at the University of Montana, in the Veterinary Medicine program.

Her parents had absolutely refused to listen to anything she said on the matter. They kept insisting that she was just feeling burnt out. They suggested that she take a few weeks off, and recuperate. She tried to explain that she wasn’t burnt out, she was fed up; fed up of working almost eighty hours a week doing something she didn’t want to do.

When reasoning hadn’t worked with Y/N, her parents resorted to threats. They promised her that they were not about to pay for her to go to school in Helena, and that if she threw away all the years they’d put into her education then she needn’t bother coming home for the holidays. Y/N had agreed to those terms, moved out of her tiny studio apartment, loaded up her little Toyota hatchback, and driven for three days, staying in crappy little motels along the way, before she reached Helena.

She’d used her savings to pay for her first semester of school, and six months worth of rent. She was on month three and she was starting to panic slightly about where money was going to come from. She needed a job, but it had to work around her school schedule, and she had no work history other than a hospital residency program that she’d dropped out of.

Now she had a sink that didn’t work, and a landlord who didn’t seem to be a handyman. And when she’d started her car that morning, she heard a distinctive squeal that meant she’d probably have to take it in sooner than later.

She sighed and took another gulp of coffee. At least one thing had improved in her day. As the thought entered her mind, Beau walked out of his trailer with a stack of chicken salad sandwiches and a big bowl of salad.

Okay, two things had improved in her day.

“Oh my god, Beau.” She exclaimed. “This is way too much! You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”

He scoffed dismissively. “N’ah, wasn’t any trouble. I had the chicken salad made up already, so all I did was throw vegetables in a bowl.”

Y/N shook her head. Beau had been a godsend since she moved to Helena. She met him on only her second day in town. She'd been given a speeding ticket and had gone into the sheriff’s department to pay it. She’d been in a particularly rotten mood that day as well, since she certainly didn’t have almost eighty dollars to throw away on a ticket. For going barely ten miles over the speed limit.

She must have looked desperate or maybe at the end of her rope, because Beau had come over to the deputy taking her payment, and taken over the transaction. She’d been shocked out of her mood by the ridiculously beautiful man behind the counter. He was long and broad, with dazzling green eyes, and dark blonde hair she immediately wanted to run her fingers through. He spoke, and his deep, Texas honey voice sent a shiver up her spine, making her whole body tingle.

She was so completely and instantly enamored of him that, at first, she missed the fact that he was dismissing her fees. When it finally sank in through her moony brain that he was being kind and helping her out, her heart fluttered even faster.

He’d smiled his killer smile at her. “It was only ten miles over the limit. And you’re obviously new in town.” He said handing back her New York state license. “Just watch your speed next time.”

Y/N nodded happily. “Yes, sir. I will be very careful in the future.”

“Beau.”

“Sorry?” She asked.

He smiled again and practically knocked her off her feet. “It’s Beau, not sir.”

They’d become fast friends, even though Y/N’s heart raced like crazy when he was around, and as far as she could tell, he had no feelings for her like that whatsoever. But he was the only person she really knew in town besides her crappy landlord, so she relished her time with him.

He’d helped her adjust to Helena with stories of his own experiences of being new in town. They watched movies together at her place (her one bedroom apartment still being bigger than Beau's trailer) and they grabbed supper three or four evenings a week. Beau always insisted on paying for her because he knew she was a poor, struggling, soon-to-be student. He constantly refused to let her grab the check. So she’d taken to slipping twenty dollar bills into his jacket pocket, but somehow he always found them and slipped them back into hers.

He texted her pretty much every day to check in and see how she was. And even if she’d been having a morning similar to today’s, his name popping up on her phone always made her smile.

She knew that at some point the little (or large) crush she had on him was going to cause trouble because it wasn’t diminishing. Every day she knew him, he carved his way a little deeper into her heart. She couldn’t help it. He was so kind, so warm. He was such an amazing dad, and she envied the relationship he and Emily had, having never had anything like it with her own father.

He was like sunshine, a burst of serotonin in cowboy packaging. She knew she was in trouble there.

Beau set down the plate of sandwiches on the table between their chairs and then went in to grab bowls and forks for their salad. When they were both served, they sat munching the yummy food without conversation, just laughing and enjoying the antics of a couple of squirrels arguing over winter hiding places.

The food, the coffee, and most of all, the man beside her, had gone a long way to making up for her rotten morning.

When they’d finished eating though, Beau reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “Okay, darlin’, lay it on me. It’s not just coffee throwing you off your game this morning. What’s goin’ on?”

Y/N relished the warmth of his big hand covering hers, and her heart raced fast again as he ran his calloused thumb over her knuckles.

She shrugged in answer. But he pushed on.

“Your sink exploded. And you don’t think your landlord will fix it?”

“Well, he hasn’t fixed my dripping shower, or my broken bedroom window…so I don’t hold out a lot of hope, no.” Y/N said defeatedly.

Beau nodded. “What else?”

She stayed quiet at first; she didn’t want to dump all of her problems on him. She didn’t want to be a burden to the only friend she had. But the soft, caring look in his mossy green eyes, told her it was safe to vent.

Her voice started off quiet, but grew louder as she talked about all that was bothering her.

“I have no job, my savings are rapidly running out, I start school in a week, and I’m incredibly nervous that I gave up a whole 'life plan' to come do this. What if I suck at it? What if all the animals hate me? What if my parents were right this whole time and I really have just thrown my life away?”

She was quiet for a moment more before ducking her head and finishing in a small voice. “Oh, and my car is squeaking.”

After a minute, Beau let go of her hand to lift her chin with his fingers so she was looking at him again. “Do you want me to try and problem solve, or are you just venting?”

Y/N let out a watery chuckle, tears threatening and making her eyes glassy. “Oh Beau, if you have any solutions, I’m all ears.”

He smiled wide and her belly flip flopped. “K, so I’ll be by tomorrow, it’s my day off. I’ll fix your sink and tub, no problem. I owned a fixer upper in Dallas, learned lots. And I’ll take a look at your bedroom window and see what I can do.”

Y/N was shaking her head. “Beau, that’s…you don’t have to do that. It’s your day off, you must have better things to do.”

But he just shook his head. “Shh, I’m problem solving.”

Y/N laughed lightly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know crap about cars, but I am friends with Sonny at Lincoln Motors, and he owes me a favor, so he’ll take care of it, and you can just pay for parts.”

Y/N was staring at him, her eyes wide. “Beau.”

But he just kept going. “You should have told me before that you were looking for work. I thought you weren’t planning on working while you’re going to school, otherwise I would have mentioned it sooner. But we have a part time position available at the station that would be perfect for you. We need weekend care for the four dogs in the canine unit. You’d have to walk 'em, and feed 'em, exercise 'em a bit. Pays pretty decent, but we’re having a hard time filling the position cause it’s only weekends. You’d have to take a course about how to care for 'em, but it’s just one afternoon.” He smiled at her. “I promise to give you a good character reference.”

Y/N just shook her head in amazement. “What…what are you my fairy godfather? You just solved all my problems.” She was stunned. These were issues she’d been worried about and struggling with for quite a while, certainly the issues with her broken apartment and no job. She opened her mouth to him one time, and he just swooped in and saved her.

The thought made her shake her head again, refuting her earlier question. “No, you’re not my fairy godfather.” She beamed at him, but lowered her gaze shyly. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Beau got up from his seat and kneeled in front of her, taking hold of her hand again. “No, not a knight, a friend. And Y/N as your friend, I can tell you without hesitation, that you’re gonna do great in school. You’re incredibly smart, and you have a beautiful soul. Animals will love you. You're gonna succeed, I promise you that."

Y/N eyes shone brightly with unshed tears and she impulsively threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His strong arms wrapped around her and he pulled her close, tight against him.

She felt the hard wall of his chest pressed warm and solid against her and tried not to moan. She didn't mean to, but without thinking, she buried her fingers in his hair, letting the silky strands slide through her fingers. His beard felt surprisingly soft as their cheeks pressed together. His big hands started caressing her back softly, massaging slightly and Y/N began to notice the way his heart beat fast under his ribs and his breathing was a bit unsteady.

Finally, he pulled back from her to catch her eye, and Y/N could see the desire spark in his gaze just seconds before he settled his lips lightly on hers.

The kiss was not demanding. It was soft and curious, tasting. He trailed his mouth over hers, lips gliding smoothly, exerting the slightest pressure. They were hot against hers though, and the silky feel of them made her fingers tighten in his hair. He let out a small hum of satisfaction and then pressed his tongue to her lips.

She sighed her mouth open and was quickly drunk on the taste of him. He was all spice and warmth; he tasted like comfort. Her stomach was full of butterflies that danced low in her belly, and she delighted in the way he moved his hand to grip the back of her neck and pressed her closer to him, groaning into her mouth and causing her core muscles to clench tightly.

Beyond her physical response to the way he kissed her though and beyond her pounding excitement for more, her heart was telling her this was where she belonged; in this man’s arms, with no air between them.

When Beau finally pulled back, he rested his forehead on hers, and chuckled softly. “God, I’ve been dreaming of doing that for months - since I first saw you on the other side of that counter." He grinned. "All frazzled and annoyed, cursing under your breath.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she pulled away to look at him. “What do you mean? I’ve been wanting you to kiss me since you smiled at me across that same counter.” She shook her head. “You weren’t interested.”

Beau snorted. “Are you kidding me? You haven’t noticed how I’ve been following you around like a puppy dog? You haven’t seen the way I’ve had to stop myself so many times from pushing you up against something hard and kissing you senseless? I thought you knew and simply weren't interested."

Pleasant images of being manhandled by Beau popped into Y/N's mind and she had to take a moment before she could shake her head at their stupidity, a grin wreathing her face. “And I thought you knew I was drooling over you constantly. I thought I was pretty obvious.”

Beau shook his head, clearly just as amazed. “I had no idea.”

His million dollar smile shone brightly and he sipped at her lips again. He spoke softly against them.

"So, has your day gotten any better?"

Y/N breathed out a laugh and ran her palms over his cheeks, loving the satiny feel of his beard beneath her fingers.

"A little bit." She answered with a teasing smile. "I have just one or two more problems you could help me with though."

"Really? Like what, darlin'?" Beau asked, his voice deep and delicious.

She bit her lip, and let her forefinger slide across his mouth.

"I'll tell you all about them tomorrow, when you come to my bedroom…to, you know, fix my window."

Beau chuckled a little dirty. "Well, I do love to be helpful."

"Then help a girl out would ya?" Y/N said, pulling his soft yielding lips back to hers with a smile.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only. @carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous

#beau arlen #beau arlen fluff #big sky fan fic #beau arlen fan fic #beau x reader #beau x y/n

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bradshawsbaby · 2 years

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Lt. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw As A Father (Pt. III)

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Author’s Note: The saga continues! I would suggest reading Part I and Part II before reading this part.

Tag list for those who specifically expressed interest in being notified for this part: @lunamoonbby, @blessupblessup, @itscheybaby, @yourphinphan81, @acdassenza.

Warnings: Mentions of deployment, pregnancy and childbirth, lots and lots of fluffy goodness.

* A separate warning for this gif because OH MY GOODNESS! *

- Rooster is an incredibly hands-on father.

- Whenever he isn’t working or spending time with you, you know without a doubt that you can find him on the floor in the living room, playing games with your children and making them laugh until their sides hurt.

- “Daddy, play with me!” is a call that you hear echoing throughout your apartment on a daily basis. While the kids love playing with you during the day, they can’t help but be excited when their father comes home every night, especially since he’s usually gone before they wake up in the morning.

- Even if you end up going back to sleep, you and Rooster usually wake up at the same time so that you can enjoy some morning coffee and a little quiet time together in the kitchen. Your favorite part of your morning routine is watching Rooster sneak into the kids’ rooms to give them each a kiss goodbye before he has to leave.

- He always saves a kiss for you on his way out the door, winking as he tells you, “Don’t spoil them too much!”

- “You’re one to talk!” you always call back, smiling. In addition to being incredibly hands-on, Rooster is also a very doting father. He has a hard time saying no to anything the kids ask for.

- The kids want ice cream on the drive home from the park? Rooster is making a pit stop to get it for them. Goose wants to play cops and robbers for the fifteenth time that night? Rooster is already up and ready to go. Lydia wants her daddy to attend a tea party with all her stuffed animals? Rooster is there.

- “I can’t deny their mommy anything, so how could I deny them?” he teases you whenever you poke fun at him for making you play the bad cop.

- Goose and Lydia love to listen to their father play the piano at night before they go to bed. At five years old, Goose is already able to bang out a few simple tunes, and three-year-old Lydia is catching up fast to her older brother. They always giggle and try to sing along whenever Rooster plays “Great Balls of Fire.”

- “Come on, baby, sing with the family,” Rooster usually calls to you with a playful wink. “I know you can!”

- The kids are inconsolable whenever Rooster has to travel for work, and you can’t say you blame them. Even after all these years, you still shed a few tears whenever your husband leaves for a mission.

- Rooster always kneels down in front of the kids so that he’s on eye level with them, his heart breaking every time he sees their tears. “Daddy loves you both so much. I’m going to be back soon, I promise,” he tells them, pulling them both into a big hug. He remembers what it was like to have to say goodbye to his own father, and the tears his mother often shed when she thought he wasn’t looking.

- “Goose, you’re the man of the house while I’m gone. You’re going to look out for your mom and sister, right?” Rooster asks, trying to hide a smile as your son’s chest puffs out with pride.

- “Yes, Daddy!” Goose always promises with a big nod of his head and a little salute.

- The days you’re reunited after a mission are always the best. The kids make Rooster “welcome home” signs and the three of you usually bake him some kind of cake or cookies. Your heart melts at the sight of Goose and Lydia screaming and running into their father’s arms, clinging to him even as he moves to wrap you in his embrace and kiss you.

- Besides hating to see their tears, Rooster also hates to see your children in any kind of pain. Every time they get a scrape or injury, he’s always there to dry their tears and bandage up their boo-boos. The two of you usually work as a team, since both Goose and Lydia hate having their wounds washed out with alcohol. Rooster holds their hands and tries to distract them with silly faces while you clean their cuts out, then the two of you make sure to “kiss it and make it all better.”

- When you have to take the kids to the doctor for their annual shots and boosters, Rooster holds them in his lap so that they don’t get scared. Sometimes he’ll even ask their pediatrician if he can get a band-aid, too, so that they don’t feel so alone. Afterwards, he always insists on buying them ice cream.

- When Goose was four, he broke his arm jumping off the dining room table while “trying to be a pilot like Daddy.” You’d had to frantically call Rooster to meet you at the hospital while he was still at work. He’d dropped everything to race there and tell Goose how brave he was, and how proud he was of him.

- Not long after Lydia’s third birthday, you discover that you’re pregnant with Baby #3, which both you and Rooster are ecstatic about. You begin house hunting shortly afterward, knowing that you’re going to need more space as your family continues to grow and expand.

- After a few months of navigating the housing market, you finally end up with a lovely bit of property right near the beach, with lots of room for your growing family. It also happens to be fairly close to Penny’s place, which is great because she and Mav, and even Amelia on occasion, love to babysit when you and Rooster go out for date nights.

- When you’re a little over eight months pregnant, Rooster suddenly gets orders for a mission that will take him away for at least two weeks. Though you know it’s the plight of an aviator’s wife, you can’t help but shed many tears over it, terrified at the thought that your husband won’t be home when you give birth. You’d been incredibly lucky that he’d been there for Goose’s and Lydia’s births.

- “Baby, I’ll be back in no time. You’re not due for almost a month,” Rooster reassures you, wiping your tears and running a loving hand over your swollen belly. “You stay put in there until I get home, okay?” he whispers to the baby, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

- A week after he leaves, however, your water suddenly breaks while Penny is over for lunch, helping you with the kids.

- “No,” you murmur, eyes widening in shock and dismay. “No, that can’t be my water breaking,” you insist, shaking your head in denial.

- “Sweetie, it is,” Penny says in her calmest voice, already rising to go round up the kids and grab your hospital bag. “It’s going to be alright. We’re going to get you to the hospital.”

- “No, no, no, no,” you tell her, tears burning your eyes as you shake your head again. “It can’t be! Not yet! Bradley isn’t here. Bradley needs to be here,” you sob.

- Though you’re nearing hysterics, Penny manages to calm you down enough to get you into the car so that she can drop the kids off with Mav and then get you to the hospital.

- Already having gone through labor and delivery twice before, your body knows exactly what to do. Once you’re at the hospital, it ends up being your quickest birth to date.

- James Thomas Bradshaw comes into the world that afternoon, just as big and as loud as his older brother had been when he was born. You and Rooster hadn’t known if you were having a boy or a girl, but thankfully you’d already decided on names.

- You sob when they place your son in your arms, not only because of the abundant love pouring out of your heart, but also because you wish more than anything that Rooster could be here with you. He would be devastated when he learned that James had been born without him.

- A few hours after James is born, Penny and Mav bring Goose and Lydia to meet their new baby brother. Though Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob are on the mission with Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, and Coyote are able to come to the hospital as well. They bring balloons, flowers, chocolates, and a giant teddy bear, knowing that you would be upset about Rooster being away.

- That night, when you’re alone in your hospital room with little James sleeping soundly on your chest, you get a text from your husband. FaceTime? he asks with a little heart emoji. No one had told him yet. They knew you needed to be the one to do it.

- Lifting up your phone so that your newborn son is visible on your chest, you dial Rooster’s number and wait, heart hammering, for him to pick up. When he does, you can immediately see his eyes go wide and some of the color drain from his face.

- “Hi, Daddy,” you say softly, gently lifting James’ tiny fist and waving it slowly.

- “Baby, I—” Rooster isn’t even able to get the words out as he suddenly bursts into tears, the sight of you and the baby too much for his heart to take. He can’t believe you’d gone into labor and he hadn’t been there. “Baby, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” he manages to choke out.

- “It’s okay,” you tell him tenderly, stroking your son’s soft head with gentle fingers. “He just wanted to make an early entrance, that’s all.”

- “He? Another boy?” Rooster sniffs, smiling at that. “Welcome to the world, James Thomas,” he says reverently, watching the baby in awe through his phone screen. “I can’t wait to get to hold you soon.”

- “He says ditto,” you grin, talking to Rooster for a few more minutes until he has to go. “I love you,” you tell him before he goes, blowing him a kiss.

- “I love you, too, baby. So much,” Rooster replies, blowing kisses for you and the baby before reluctantly ending the call.

- When Rooster returns home a week later, Mav and Penny go to pick him up with Goose and Lydia since James is still too young to be around too many people yet. The minute Rooster walks through the door of your home, he immediately runs to you, taking you in his arms and kissing you deeply.

- “God, I missed you,” he whispers, nuzzling your nose with his.

- “I missed you, too,” you whisper back, a few tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes. In addition to missing him, your hormones were still all over the place from childbirth. “Want to meet your son?”

- Rooster eagerly follows you over to the bassinet, where James is just opening his eyes from a nap. He’s the sweetest, most good-natured baby. “Hello, my sweet angel,” you coo, carefully lifting him into your arms. “Come meet Daddy,” you say, stroking his cheek as you turn and gently place him into your husband’s waiting arms.

- Staring down at him in wonder, Rooster starts to well up again. “He’s so damn perfect,” he breathes out softly, gazing down at your son with love. “And so are you,” Rooster tells you, leaning over to kiss you again.

- That night, as Goose and Lydia play on the floor and you and Rooster snuggle on the couch with the baby, you can’t think of a time in your life when you’ve ever been happier.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #miles teller #top gun #top gun: maverick

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pandorasfavorite · 10 months

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Crowded

AN: I just know he so sweet and attentive

I’m so bad at titles

You didn't get involved in Dominik's career, you actually preferred coming home from your office job just to wait on your husband. Dominik's show business is taken very seriously by fans, especially because Rhea is always with him. Fans struggle to see the difference between fiction and real life, Dominik knows you don't like coming to his job because of this. But he forgot his lunch at home and you're the only one that can bring it to him, after lots of convincing over the phone you agree.

Dominik told you to go around back to avoid any fans that may recognize you. You timidly agree and make it around back with a hoodie and glasses on, confrontation has never been your thing. The backstage door opens and you peel off the hood and pocket your sunglasses, you sigh shaking off your previous nervousness. Your finger fumble with your phone as you press on Dominik's contact to call him, you've only been inside once. The line rings twice before his charming voice flows through the receiver, "Hey Honey, you make it?". You hum in reply waiting for instructions on where to go.

It goes silent for a second while Dominik thinks, "I'll just come to you. I don't want you to get lost". You smile brightly at his concern and say 'okay' telling him that you are at the backstage door. You rock forward in impatience already have waited 5 minutes, In Dom's defense this place is huge. Your movements still when you see Dominik jogging towards you his hair stuck to the side of his face from his previous match. You share a soft smile with him and you give him his lunch, "Awh thank you, baby". His arms wrap around your waist and he spins you around still holding his lunch in his hand. You giggle and tap his back to playfully scold him, "Your gonna mess up your lunch I spent 10 minutes making", his spins slowly stop and he lets you put your feet back on the ground.

"10 minutes. That's a new record" he says peeking into his bag, you blush putting your hands on his to stop him from looking into the bag while you are there. Dominik looks up from where you stopped him, "Got something in here you don't want me to see?". It was a love note. You puff up in playful defensiveness, "No I just want you to open it alone". Dominik grins thinking of something dirty and you can tell by the way he shuffles on his feet. You smack his arms lightly, "Not like that you perv" you giggle while 'scolding' him.

Dominik holds his lunch at his side when he asks you a question he normally never would, "I get off in 3 hours. You could stay and watch, we can go home together". Normally you wouldn't even consider this, you'd tell him no because of the crowds when he leaves. If you go out the back door the chances are less and you get to watch your husband live out his passion. You hold his face and nod agreeing, "Okay lets go". He smiles in somewhat disbelief but he takes your hand in his and walks you to the Judgment days room.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------After the Judgement Day came back you jump into Dominik's arms congratulating him on a win. Dominik kisses you sensually before peeling you off of him to go wash up before you leave together. He exits the shower room and grabs your hand kissing it and walking towards the door. The closer you both get to the exit the more your breathing picks up and your hands start to sweat. Dominik kisses the back of your hand again and then your forehead to show that he understands your nervousness.

All goes well and no one approaches you both but when you round the corner a few cameras flash and some girly screams peirce through the air. A crowd forms with different opinions some booing others asking Dominik about his personal life. You ignore the anxiety building up in your chest holding onto Dominik's hand even tighter making me glance at you in distant worry. The crowd gets closer and starts to ask you questions about opinions on Dominik's performance. The anxiety has moved to your throat and you can hardly mutter words as it is, "Um I don't know". You cant help it, you push your face into the side of Dominik's shirt trying to shield yourself from the world. Dominik lets go of your hand to wrap it around your shoulders to give you more comfort... more support. "No more questions please, we are trying to leave", Dominik says with unusual sterness and the crowd gets quiet for a moment. Long enough for you both to make it to the car.

You sit in the passenger seat shakily grabbing at your seat belt to put it over you. Dominik sets his head on the steering wheel for a moment feeling guilty for putting you in that situation. He turns towards you grabbing your hands so you will let go of the strap. "Im so sorry Bebita. You have no idea how bad I feel right now" he whispers to you, your faces inches apart. You quickly let go off his hands to wrap your arms around his neck, "I love you". Dominik audibly sighs in relief and relaxation, "I love you too". You both hold each other for a moment longer before pulling out of the parking lot to your shared home.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dom dom #dominik my bbg

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passivenovember · 1 year

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All the way across time, Billy’s knuckles drip pearls of red onto the dashboard. He’s drunk. Can’t hold his head up for longer than ten seconds, just enough for Steve to get the seatbelt around him, and the door closed, and the window rolled down because, “I’m gonna ralph.”

Steve grips the wheel.

It doesn’t matter. So his chest shouldn’t convulse, twisting with worry for this asshole. This dickhead. This reckless piece of--

“Steve, I’m gonna puke.”

Emotion clogs his throat, wading through two years of this means nothing to me. blonde hair and blue eyes and cherry red lips, paving the way toward nothing.

Billy grips his member’s jacket, “Please, I’m gonna be sick,”

And.

Steve thinks he’d like to see that. Could enjoy it, maybe, relaxing into how a little bit of pain would smooth things over, but.

“You’re not throwing up in here,” Steve says bluntly, neverminded the tell-tale shade of pea-green Billy’s nose has gone. “You should’ve thought it through before you did that last keg stand.”

“Had to do it,” Billy grumbles.

He does a lot of things because he thinks he’s supposed to. Kisses Steve for two years because he wants to. Asks Steve to run away with him because he has to. Can’t stay in the red pin-point of Hawkins a moment longer. Avoids Steve because he had to break up with him. Punches Steve’s new toy across the jaw because he has to--

It gets old.

Billy makes a pained gurgling noise, leaning forward to clutch at his stomach.

Steve frowns. “I’m not slowing the car down, asshole,” but he pumps the breaks, anyway, aching to rub his back even as the words land like fists against Billy’s spine.

The Beemer Idles at the next red light so Billy can blow chunks on the cobble brick of Main street.

Steve hates this.

He wants to go home. He imagines what would happen if he told Billy to walk. To find his own way back to cherry lane--He peers out the window, into the dead of night. Counts to twenty. Says, “I can’t believe you did that,” the second Billy’s upright again.

Billy wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I tried to swallow it but it kept coming back up--”

“No, I mean.” The light changes. Steve pulls forward, so close to home he can almost feel his bedsheets against his skin. “The fight. I can’t believe--”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

Steve presses down on the gas pedal. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the martyr and I’m the monster lurching toward town hall. No two ways about it,”

Steve turns onto Loch Nora, speeding toward his neighborhood like maybe if he gets there fast enough, things will start to make sense. He breathes through his nose. Feels the wind on his face. “You have twenty seconds to tell me why.” Steve says.

Billy fumbles around for his cigarettes, finally pinching one between his teeth and holding onto it while the car lighter sparks itself alive. By the time it pops free, glowing red like a fallen star in, Steve’s already cut the engine.

He’s home.

The grass needs watering and it’s almost summer. Billy puffs his cigarette. Won’t look at him and doesn’t say anything for a long time.

But Steve. He can’t accept that. It’s eating him alive, hope and anger raging wild in his stomach, getting drunk on stale beer. No matter what he’s thinking, chewing on words he can’t force into any meaningful order--

“It’s been more than twenty seconds.”

Billy finally turns in his seat, eyebrow split open and trickling blood when he raises it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and. Billy’s eyes. They’re soft on Steve’s face. Softer than he’s seen them in months, since Billy killed this. Killed them.

Steve feels like a ghost, watching Billy drop his skull against the headrest. In profile, Steve notices his lip blowing huge. Notices he’s hurt, more than he’ll ever let on, and.

“Why’d you do that,” Steve tries.

He’s ready to beg. To kick and scream. Punch out the dashboard and shatter the window and light the whole world on fire. “Billy,” Steve says, hating the way his voice is going to crack and blow everything apart. “I--”

“I think,” Billy rasps, “My knuckles--”

Steve undoes his seatbelt, absolutely sick to his stomach.

The first time Billy broke up with him, Steve didn’t eat for three days.

Not because he’s so gone on the asshole that Steve can’t live without him, but because Billy had shown up at Steve’s front door with three broken ribs and a black eye someone could park a school bus on.

And Steve took one look at him, cracked open and bleeding himself because Billy wouldn’t let Steve touch him, and knew, that.

This was his fault. And it was over.

They never talked again, after that. Surprise, surprise.

Not about anything that matters. Not about what happens to Billy at home. If Max saw something she wasn’t supposed to. If Neil ever got curious, if he had people keep an eye out. If, wrapped in each other’s arms behind a dumpster at the county fair, maybe they should’ve been more careful.

It was Steve’s fault.

At the end of the day, Billy may think he’s Frankenstein’s monster but really, he’s the bird with shattered wings and Steve’s the asshole driving over it, so.

When Billy shoulders his way into the house. When he pauses, eyes glued to the skylight and the midnight galaxy beyond that, and says, “Looks just like I remember,” before he removes his jacket, wincing in a way that has Steve feeling like he just got stabbed with something short and dull, it gives Steve hope.

Hope that they can fix this. That Steve can patch it up just like he used to, tucking Billy into the bath, soapy water warming his chest until he’s not angry anymore.

Steve doesn’t want to be angry anymore.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” He tries, and follows Billy down the hall to the bathroom, where he strips down to his boxers and plops, gingerly, on the edge of the toilet without having to be told.

They go through the motions.

Steve pokes and prods, slathering Neosporin over cuts and scrapes, even the ones Billy insists don’t hurt. He cleans the wounds, anyway. He tapes the knuckles. Says, “You got your ass kicked, Hargrove,” Chest filling with hymnals and shaking, crushing explosions when Billy smiles.

It’s small. Almost non-existent, but.

It’s there.

Steve winds Billy’s hair into a bun and runs him a bath. Without having to be told. And Billy strips naked, slipping into the water, without having to be told.

But Steve has to be told. Asked. “Will you sit with me?”

“What?”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Billy sounds scared. Working hard to buff nerves from the atmosphere when he clears his throat and asks, “Will you get in with me.”

Steve turns, his hand still on the doorknob. He keeps his eyes on Billy’s face, on his lips, where they’ve started to turn purple on the left corner, no matter how much he wants to look. To see and touch--

“Whatever, stupid to even ask,”

Billy’s eyes close like doors. His arms stretch and grip onto either side of the tub so he can lean back, eyes slipping closed so he doesn’t see the way Steve vibrates all over. The way his hands shake, pulling his shirt over his head. Unbuckling his pants. He steps into the water, refusing to meet Billy’s eyes as the bubbles close around them.

Steve clears his throat, ready to cut his heart open and apologize, nearly dying on the spot when Billy beats him to it.

“I fucked everything up.” Billy gasps.

And.

Steve wishes he could say it's awkward.

That he’s not hard, with the water scorching every inch of him, and Billy’s swampy, wet eyes pinning him in place, but.

He’s choking on want. On desperation and love. “Billy--”

Billy shakes his head, refusing to listen. “I just. With Neil--”

“--I know--”

“--I’m afraid, Steve.” Billy blinks, pinprick tears sliding down the swell of his cheeks. His knuckles turn white on the tub, grip so firm Steve worries for Billy’s split skin and fresh bandages. “I was so afraid when he brought it up that I ruined everything, and--”

Steve shushes him, wading forward a little, until he slots himself between Billy’s legs.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Billy tells him, sitting up. “I never want anything to happen to you, so I let you go. And then tonight, when you were wrapped in that loser’s arms, laughing at his fucking jokes--”

Steve wants to say that the loser means nothing to him. Could never mean anything to him, when he’s got Billy in his life like this--

“But it was my fault, Steve. Everything’s been my fault for so long and I treated you like shit because I was scared to death that something would happen. I pushed you away and now--”

“I love you,” Steve tells him.

Because it’s all he can manage to say. Because it’s simple and easy and in the end, love’s gonna win out.

Steve won’t accept anything else.

But wherever Billy is, whatever he’s been sword fighting, tears staining his pillow every night for three months in a house Steve could never reach him, is putting on a hell of a performance.

“No,” Billy says bluntly.

“Baby.”

“No,” Billy says again, “Don’t say that. I’m shit. I’m scum, Steve, I’m--”

“I love you,” Steve shrugs. Billy’s eyes search his face, tears frozen and stuck to his flashes like unearthed diamonds.

Steve takes a deep breath. Prepares for war. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” He begins, ready to slay the dragon, but.

Billy bares his teeth. Digs his heels in. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, I do.” Steve insists. He wants to touch Billy. Wants to haul him to his chest and lock him there forever.

Not now.

Not yet.

“You don’t deserve what happened and what happened, Billy--” Steve takes his shoulders, soapy hands moving to hold Billy’s cheeks until Billy looks at him. “That wasn’t you fault.”

Billy’s crying now, hunched forward so Steve as to submerge his chest in water, ducking to get those baby blues back where they belong.

Billy rattles, letting Steve’s hands gentle his cheeks, catching his tears and setting them free like wishes. Dreams. Steve presses a kiss, delicate as pressed flowers, to Billy’s forehead.

And both cheeks.

And each corner of his mouth, smearing his chin in a slow, sloppy kiss until Billy cracks open.

“I’m sorry,” He gasps, finally, finally, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him close.. “I’m sorry, Steve, so fucking sorry--”

“I love you, Billy. I’ll tell you everyday, ever morning and before bed, cradling you in my arms, until you believe me,” Steve tells the dragon.

You’re cast out. There are no more shadowy corners to come home to.

#harringrove #angst #hurt/comfort #getting back together #this was gonna be smut #but I got LAZY

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patheticgirlsteve · 1 year

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Hihihihi!! so, i haven't written fic in like 3 years and also i've never written stranger things fic so keep that in mind if you read this, BUT i saw this post by @babyboymunson and i just had to write it!!

i was gonna write something short and just reblog it onto that post, but this ended up being 3k so. i did not do that. also i did not proof read this at all. ok bye i hope you enjoy

(this is on ao3 now!!)

Steve never used to have strong feelings in any direction, positive or negative, when it came to sleeping. He spent most of his life taking a good night’s sleep for granted, just like every other normal person would. And why shouldn’t he? He had no reason to think that he would ever find himself going days on end without sleeping for more than three hours at a time.

He never thought he’d be waking up screaming or sobbing (or both) because he had had yet another dream about his best friend getting tortured by Russians under the mall in their small town, about the kids he babysat (the kids he loved a ridiculous amount but would never admit to their faces) putting themselves in harms way to try to save the world yet again, about his… Well, about Eddie dying in Dustin’s arms as Dustin sobbed over him.

And hadn’t that been just another kick in the teeth, on top of everything else? His feelings for Eddie had hit him like a battering ram and at the worst possible moment. Realizing he was maybe a little bit (a lot) into Eddie Munson right after he had basically sacrificed himself to save Dustin had felt like when you’re blowing up a balloon and just when it’s almost full you give it one last puff, and it pops in your face and the snap of the rubber stings against your skin.

Steve honestly didn’t like to think about it. Everything had ended up working out, relatively speaking. The details didn’t matter much to him, everyone was alive and mostly whole, so who cared about the rest? Plus, he and Eddie had ended up with matching demobat scars, which Eddie said was metal.

(“Like Ozzy?” Steve had asked the first time Eddie had said it when Steve had been helping him replace his bandages after having been discharged from the hospital. He didn’t know much about metal, but he knew who Ozzy was. Kind of. Okay, not really, but he knew that Eddie thought he was a badass, which was what mattered to Steve.

“Yeah, sure, Stevie,” Eddie had laughed softly, with a smile that made the butterflies flutter in Steve’s stomach. “Like Ozzy.”

Steve had smiled weakly at Eddie, looking up from where he had been very carefully unwinding Eddie’s old bandages from his side.

“You know,” he had started slowly, wondering if he was about to make a mistake. But Eddie had been sat there on the bathroom counter in front of Steve, letting Steve help him, letting him see the real Eddie, the Eddie that wasn’t just for show. “I’ve never actually listened to Ozzy,”

Eddie had scoffed, “Yeah, I know, Harrington. We really need to work on your taste in music, it’s absolutely tragic.”

Steve had nodded and shrugged, hoping it came off as casual. “Okay, so teach me.”

Eddie had stared, mouth slightly open and eyes wide and shocked. “What?”

“Teach me,” Steve had said, his heart beating wildly in his chest. “You’ve got plenty of records and tapes, and we’ve got plenty of time. This is the perfect chance for you to teach me everything I need to know about Ozzy and Dio and the rest of those metal guys. Who knows, maybe you’ll convince me to become a metalhead like you.”

Eddie’s shocked expression had quickly turned into something much more gleeful and mischievous even as a slight blush had dusted his cheeks. “Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that, Harrington. I’m gonna educate the hell outta you!” He cackled, clearly already planning the perfect musical education curriculum in his head.

Steve had just smiled, thinking, No, I don’t think I’ll regret it at all.)

Steve always just nodded along with Eddie when he called their scars metal.

(Even after all of his music education lessons with Eddie, which had eventually devolved into makeout sessions with Iron Maiden blasting in the background, he hadn’t really gotten it. He knew why Eddie liked it, it was loud and expressive, just like he was, but it just wasn’t Steve’s taste. Eddie had sighed deeply and dramatically when Steve had told him this, but Steve knew it was just an act. They each had their own tastes, and that was fine. Even if Eddie still complained about having to listen to ABBA in Steve’s car.)

Steve liked having matching scars with Eddie, as fucked up as that might have been, but he felt it connected them profoundly, and they served as a reminder that it had been real and that they had survived. That they had made it out.

Sometimes, that reminder was more necessary than others. Like when the nightmares got the better of him, waking him in a frozen panicky fear after only a couple of hours asleep alone in his parent’s house, he would call Eddie.

(“You can always call me, Stevie, it’s not like I’m sleeping either, anyway.” Eddie had said over the phone, the first time Steve had called him in a panic at 3 am to make sure Eddie was really alive, that the nightmares weren’t real. “So you’re not gonna wake me up, and, even if you did, I wouldn’t care, anyway. I want you to call me, okay?”

Steve had nodded, before remembering that Eddie couldn’t see him nod over the phone. He was tired, okay?

“Yeah, okay. Yeah. I’ll call you,” Steve had whispered. “You know you can call me, too, right? When you can’t sleep either?”

Eddie had paused, and for a moment Steve had thought that maybe he was overstepping. Yeah, they were friends now, after everything, but maybe they weren’t that close. Maybe Steve had just been imagining the looks he thought Eddie was giving him when he thought Steve wasn’t looking. Maybe the lingering hands on his shoulders, his back, his arms when they were hanging out with the rest of their friends were nothing. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking, and Steve was messing up one of the two age-appropriate friendships that he had managed to create.

And then Eddie had said, sounding almost unsure, “Okay. We’ll take care of each other?” Steve had hated the way it sounded like a question.

“Yeah, Eds,” he had promised. “We’ll take care of each other.” )

And then Eddie would drive over to the Harrington’s house, pull Steve back to his bed in his room with the hideous plaid wallpaper that everyone loved to tease him about, and settle Steve against his bare chest (it was summer in Hawkins, and it was hot, okay?), and wrap his arms under Steve’s, breathing comfort into Steve’s hair as they fell asleep together, Steve cradled like something precious in Eddie's hold.

It felt safe, sleeping in Eddie’s arms, even before they got together. Being held made him feel small, sort of, but not in a bad way. It made him feel like, well, like he could rest for a moment, that he didn’t need to be the shield, the protector. He could just be Steve, asleep in his boyfriend’s arms, with Eddie’s scars lined up behind his own. He just felt safe.

Steve couldn’t remember the last person who made him feel so protected. He thinks maybe it’s only been Eddie.

Steve wonders sometimes if Eddie even knows how safe he makes Steve feel, when he holds him like that. He kind of thinks maybe Eddie does know, even though Steve has never managed to say it out loud. When they’re alone, Steve coming over to spend time with Eddie at the new government-funded trailer that he and Wayne have moved into, he would sit on his bed (and his new mattress, not stained, thank you very much) with his back against the headboard and his legs open wide enough for Steve to take his place in between them.

Steve loved when Eddie would wrap his arms around him, letting him relax into his boyfriend’s hold, and pick up whatever book they had been reading lately to pick up where they had left off last time, Eddie reading it aloud to Steve, doing different voices for each character. Right now they were reading The Two Towers. With anyone else it would have felt embarrassing, being read to like a little kid, but it wasn’t, with Eddie. Steve wanted to read Eddie’s favorite books, he wanted to understand the jokes and references that he and the kids made with each other and to be able to enjoy it with them, but he just couldn’t.

It wasn’t that Steve didn’t like reading, it was just that it was hard for him, harder than it should have been. He tended to avoid reading on his own, because staring at the tiny words just made his head ache and his eyes tired. That was okay, though, because Eddie had been more than happy to narrate the Lord of the Rings books to Steve, anyway. Since they had started reading it together, Steve had begun to understand exactly why people liked it so much. The text was dense and Steve was very impressed that Eddie was able to pronounce all of the names and stuff. And the story was good, great, even. He liked Aragorn a lot, and when he had told this to Eddie he had laughed and kissed Steve’s cheek, saying, “Yeah, sweetheart, I know.” Anyway, this Tolkien guy was kind of a genius, in Steve’s opinion.

Often, they would spend entire days just laying in Eddie’s bed, Steve sprawled on his chest, reading together. Steve would always insist that they take breaks so that Eddie could rest his voice and drink some water, and Eddie would always drop a kiss into Steve’s hair and call him sweet whenever Steve stopped him for a break, which never failed to make Steve blush. He wasn’t used to being called sweet, but Eddie never let him argue over the statement.

Steve thought about this as he opened the door to the trailer, letting himself in without knocking, knowing that Eddie was probably just waiting for him to walk in. He had called Steve at Family Video earlier in the afternoon during a brief pause in the Saturday rush to invite him over when he got off work.

It had been unusually busy at the store today, even for a Saturday, and at noon Steve was already tired of dealing with rude teens and even ruder adults for a minimum wage paycheck. So when the phone rang, he had groaned and turned to Robin, who had been looking just as tired as he had been feeling.

(Robin had seen him start to ask her to answer the phone and cut him off before he could get a word out, shaking her head forcefully and glaring at him. “No way, dingus, it’s your turn to answer the phone. I’ve answered the last three calls!”

“Yeah,” Steve had let his drop onto the counter and closed his eyes against the ringing of the phone in his ear. “You had to because I was busy dealing with Shannon Simmons trying to flirt her way into a free rental, despite the fact that I was clearly not interested!” He protested.

Robin had just quirked an eyebrow at him, turning back to sorting the returns before the next rush started. “Answer the phone, Steve.”

Steve had groaned again, before dragging his limbs up to a standing position and picking up the receiver. “Family Video, this is Steve speaking, how can I help you?” he had droned in the flattest tone he could manage, ignoring the kick in the calf this earned him from Robin.

“Wow, such enthusiasm for the job, Stevie,” Eddie’s voice had drawled sarcastically over the phone, and Steve had perked up immediately as he recognized it. “Employee of the month material, right here! Somebody give this guy a raise for his excellent customer service skills!” Eddie had continued, and Steve had heard the grin in his voice through the line.

“Eddie,” Steve had smiled, feeling somewhat energized by his boyfriend’s voice. Robin had turned her head at this and waggled her eyebrows suggestively at him, which Steve had waved off with an eyeroll. “What’s up, Eds?”

“Hmmm, not much,” Eddie had hummed in answer. “I was just thinking of you and wanted to ask if you wanted to come over and read chapter four after your shift later. You can say no if you want, I know you’re probably gonna be tired.”

“Of course I wanna come over, I’m never too tired to spend time with you,” Steve knew it was a stupidly sappy thing to say and that the lovesick tone he had said it in probably didn’t help, but he hadn’t cared. He had heard Robin pretending to gag, but he had ignored her in favor of hearing Eddie’s cooing noise.

“Such a charmer, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice had been teasing, but Steve knew that he was probably blushing on the other end of the line. “Okay, I’ll let you hang up before you get in trouble for using the work phone to talk to your super hot and wonderful boyfriend instead of doing your job. Tell Robin I said hi!”

Steve had rolled his eyes fondly and said, “Okay, I’ll see you after work, Eds,”

“See you then, sweetheart! Love ya!” Then Eddie had made a kissy noise that made Steve laugh and then there was a click and Steve put the phone back as he heard the dial tone signaling that Eddie had hung up.

“Eddie says hi,” He had said to Robin, and as she had opened her mouth to say something mocking back to him, the bell over the door had rung as a group of loud teenage boys walked in, saving Steve from her teasing.

Back to work, but at least he had plans with Eddie to look forward to now.)

As Steve shut the trailer door behind him, he toed off his shoes and slipped off his work vest, hanging it on the hook by the door. He liked that there were places in Eddie’s home specifically for Steve and his things, it made him feel like he was at home here when Eddie made room for Steve in his life.

He didn’t bother fighting down a yawn as he moved down the hall to Eddie’s room, it had been a long day and he was looking forward to unwinding with his boyfriend. He saw Eddie’s door open and he smiled at the sight of Eddie lying on his stomach with his head propped up on one of his hands at the end of the bed, his other hand holding his beat up copy of The Two Towers. Eddie looked up when he noticed Steve standing in the doorway.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” Eddie smiled up at him and started to shift from where he was laying to get into their reading position.

“Hi,” Steve crossed over to Eddie on the bed and kissed him softly, sighing into it when Eddie’s hand cupped Steve’s cheek and kissed him back for a moment before Steve pulled away. He went over to the dresser to pull out his favorite pair of Eddie’s sweatpants and a Black Sabbath tour shirt to change into. “Were you reading ahead before I got here?”

“Stevie, baby,” Eddie said, watching as Steve stripped out of his work shirt and pants, eyes lingering on the scars on his stomach. Steve tried not to blush as he stepped into the sweatpants. “I’ve read this book a million times, I don’t think it counts as reading ahead if I already know the entire story by heart,”

Steve pulled the shirt over his head, not caring at all that it messed up his hair as he pulled it down. “Yeah, but this is your first time reading it with me,”

“That it is, sweetheart,” Eddie nodded happily and reached out his arms as Steve came to the bed. “That it is.” He opened his legs for Steve to lay down between.

Steve hummed contentedly as he snuggled into Eddie’s chest placing all of his weight on his boyfriend as he leaned in, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s torso and closing his eyes as one of Eddie’s came up to wrap around him.

“You’re pretty sleepy tonight, baby,” Eddie said quietly, fondly. “Are you sure you wanna read tonight? We can just go to bed, if you want.”

“No,” Steve protested, his eyes still closed against Eddie’s shirt. “I wanna listen to you read, gotta find out what’s happening to Merry and Pippin in the forest,” He insisted. Steve liked the hobbits a lot, especially Pippin, who kind of reminded him of Dustin. Not that he would ever tell Dustin that.

Eddie chuckled softly and Steve enjoyed the way the laugh vibrated in his chest. “Okay, I’ll read, but it’s okay if you fall asleep, yeah?” He picked up the book from where he had placed it on the pillow next to him. “It can be a bedtime story tonight.”

“Okay,” Steve murmured, already starting to drift now that he was settled against Eddie, being surrounded by his boyfriend’s long limbs. As he thought this, Eddie’s legs wrapped around Steve’s and he rubbed a hand against Steve’s arm.

Steve knew what the warm feeling in his chest was. It was some mixture of safety, trust, and a not inconsiderable amount of love for Eddie.

“Okay, so, we left off at chapter three,” Eddie said as he flipped through the pages to get to where they had left off last time. He found it, and cleared his throat dramatically before he began to read aloud.

“ ‘Chapter Four: Treebeard. Meanwhile the hobbits went with as much speed as the dark and tangled forest allowed, following the line of the running stream, westward and up towards the slopes of the mountains, deeper and deeper into Fangorn. Slowly their fear of the Orcs died away, and their pace slackened. A queer stifling feeling came over them, as if the air were too thin or too scanty for breathing…' ”

Steve didn’t last very long, he knew he wouldn’t. He was tired and he was safe, and that combination, plus the soothing sound of Eddie’s narration, was more than enough to lull him to sleep. He stopped fighting, and let himself relax fully.

As he slipped into sleep, he barely registered the kiss Eddie placed on his head.

“Good night, love,” Eddie whispered. “I hope you have sweet dreams,”

And Steve did.

#hi i hope it's ok that i tagged you in this #feel free to ignore this if you want lol #steddie #steddie fic #steve #eddie #my writing #anya.txt

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