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giddyfatherchris · 8 months

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Confidence booster

Pairing: changbin x reader, ot8 x reader

Type: Not requested

Genre: a biiiit of angst if you squint and fluuuuufff

Warnings: none

Requests: open for stray kids and bts

A/n: i thought about this random scenario and it made my heart grow a size or two with fluff hehe hope you enjoy xx

gif is not mine!

Summary: After a little incident while you were shopping with Changbin, he takes matter in his own hands to make you feel better and boost your confidence a little

"Why is this so good?" marvels Changbin as you walk down the mall, drinks in both your hands.

You laugh at his comment. Honestly, he's not wrong, but the childlike wonder Changbin often expresses always makes you giggle. He's basically a very buff and muscular child.

"Alright, so where do you need to go first?"

Changbin had invited you for a shopping day. He needed new clothes since he kept getting bigger by the hour. Usually, he would have asked the stylist for some new pieces, but he also liked to walk around the mall. So, with permission and a few security guards, you left together for a shopping spree.

He wanted to stop by a few stores, and you felt more than happy to follow along and enjoy his company. You had wished for the other boys to join you, but the occasion for them to get a free day was so rare. They all jumped at the opportunity to have a very chill and relaxed day.

You entered your third store your hands already full of bags, which all belonged to Changbin. Immediately, he started rummaging through the clothes. Every once in a while, he got out an abomination of a shirt or dress only to make a funny face to make you laugh. You joined in his game and quickly were almost crying because of the new atrocities you pulled out. Even the bodyguards couldn't hold in subtle smiles.

You were about to show him a very confusing top when your eyes fell on a beautiful dress. You put back the previous piece of clothing without a glance. It was a stunning pastel color and flowed perfectly with its multiple panels. You let your hand stroke the fabric. Your mouth opened with surprise at how soft it was. Completely lost in your world, you didn't notice when Changbin sneaked up on you with a funny hat and pair of glasses.

"What do you think of these?" he snickered, finding himself incredibly funny. "Y/n?"

"Mh?"

Pulled from your daze, you absentmindedly giggled when you noticed him, your mind not quite moved on from the absolute dream you held in your hands.

"You're not even laughing," he pouted before noticing your gaze of adoration. "That's really pretty. I'm sure it would suit you very well. Try it on!" he enthusiastically pressed.

And just like that, your little dream fell flat. You backed away from the rack as if it was poisonous.

"Oh no, I don't think so. I just thought it was soft," you mumbled before quickly walking away.

For the following stores, he noticed the drastic change in your attitude. Your enthusiastic mood was long gone, replaced by a distant gaze. Every time he offered a piece of clothing he thought would fit you well, you looked at him with this tense stare, shook your head, and moved on.

When you got home, you immediately headed to your room. You dropped the bags directly in the entryway and said a dismissive 'hello' to Felix who was waiting for the two of you with a smile. The young Australian gave his older brother a confused look, to which Changbin only answered with shrugged shoulders.

You were lying on your bed, a frog plushie held tight to your chest. You stared at the ceiling as memories you hadn't thought about in months flooded your brain. You were so out of it you didn't hear the light knock on your door. Only the apparition of Changbin in your room brought you back to the present.

"Oh, hi binnie."

"Can I come in?"

You nodded as you sat cross-legged in your little bed, giving him some space.

"Did you need anything?" you asked after he stayed silent for a few seconds. He looked shy, almost awkward, which was rare for him.

"I wanted to ask you about something, and before you say I imagined it..."

"Changbin I-"

He stopped you with a stern look. "Fine, I may have the attention span of a kindergartner, but I'm not that blind. You look seriously disturbed whenever I ask you to try something on." You examined your hands, ashamed to face his eyes. "And you can't tell me it was nothing. You looked panicked." He searched for your gaze, his head leaning on the side.

You closed your eyes. "It's just because it's embarrassing to explain," you whispered.

He stayed silent with his brows furrowed, a silent invitation for you to continue, you looked up and winced. "I used to date someone, and when we went shopping he showed little interest in the clothes I wanted. Which I guess is fair, but the thing is whenever I did try something in front of him, he always made fun of me. Or would point out the things wrong with it?" You hid your reddening face in your hands. "Since then, I only go shopping alone. I'm never trying anything new in front of someone."

You sighed, feeling so ashamed, even though you knew your friend deserved some proper explanation for your unusual behavior.

"So, that's why you wouldn't try that dress?"

You nodded. He stared at you silently, patted your hand, and left the room…?

It wasn't totally out of character for Changbin, he really had a hard time focusing on two things at once, but you thought after telling him such a personal story, he would have shown some compassion or at least would have said something.

It didn't help that you didn't see him the next day. The only thing resembling some news you got was a text in your group chat making sure everyone was still on for the meal at his dorm that night.

You showed up at the requested hour to an almost empty house. Seungmin, Felix, and Lee Know were the only ones there, busy preparing the meal. When you asked about the five missing boys, they gave a vague answer about an errand they all had to run before supper. You shrugged off the bizarre coincidence with a suspicious look before you joined the preparations.

Changbin, Bang Chan, Han, Hyunjin, and I.N finally showed up with a plethora of bags about 30 minutes later.

"With everything you bought yesterday, I didn't think you were still missing some stuff Bin." You laughed until you noticed their conniving smiles and unusual silence. "What's going on here?" you asked after looking at Seungmin, Felix, and Lee Know.

The sweet Australian boy walked behind you and grabbed your shoulders.

"Changbin hyung told us about your thing with clothes."

You whipped your head in the direction of the culprit, anger brewing in your blood.

"Please don't get mad!" intervened Chan as he stepped up. "We went to the store and picked some stuff for you." He gave you an adorable smirk, and if you weren't so embarrassed, you could have swooned.

Your strong friend walked up to you, bags in hands. "Try these and then show us."

Your mouth opened comically. "Is this a joke?" You looked at your friends and their hopeful smiles. "I told you I don't do that, and if you told everyone, you all should know too."

"Exactly, and that's why we want to do this. Please trust us?" He gave you the most horrid and cute agyeo look in an attempt to convince you. You pondered the situation and looked at them, hoping they would rescind.

"I will try ONE thing, and then we never talk about it again," you grumbled as Changbin quickly handed you a bag with a gigantic smile.

Of course, it was the dress. It was magnificent, and if you were honest, you thought it suited you, but self-doubt was never far away. You could never trust your opinion. You were probably not seeing some horrible detail, you reasoned.

"You can come out now. We're ready!" screamed Changbin from behind the door.

Turning to face the doorway, you took a deep breath. You questioned even getting out. Why would you willingly put yourself in that situation again? But then, the answer timidly pointed the tip of its nose.

Maybe, just maybe, because you did trust them? And maybe because somewhere inside, you hoped it would turn out different this time.

You stepped out, left the door flagrantly open for a quick escape, and faced the boys with your eyes closed. "Okay, I'm out. Here it is. Can I go back in now?"

Nothing. Your apparition met with silence, you slowly opened one eye then the other. They were all sat very neatly on the couch with serious expressions.

"Uh, guys?"

They stayed silent for a bit more, looking you up and down before they looked at each other and started absolutely screaming.

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SO PRETTY!!"

"OH MY GOD. HAVE WE BEEN GRACED WITH THE PRESENCE OF AN ANGEL?"

"MY EYES! MY EYES! THEY ARE DAZZLED BY ALL THIS BEAUTY!"

"ARE YOU A CELEBRITY?"

Bang Chan was fake sobbing and muttering about how pretty you were while Seungmin had just 'fainted' in I.N and Felix's arms. Hyunjin was fanning himself like a crazy person.

Suddenly turned MC, Changbin grabbed a hairbrush as a mic and presented your outfit. "Everyone! Here is our first outfit of the night! What would we rate this?"

"A 10!"

"12/10"

"ONE MILLION OUT OF TEN."

"It's PERFECT!" screamed Han.

You couldn't help a fit of laughter from escaping your mouth. Your cheeks were red with slight embarrassment and a healthy dose of happiness. The boys continued their crazy antics, asking you to twirl and do a model walk across the living room as they applauded. The show continued for a while as they encouraged you to try every item of clothing they bought you.

Most of them fit you like a glove, and you praised their incredible sense of fashion. Even with the more ill-fitting ones, their comments focused on comedy. Not a bad thing was said about you or the way your body looked.

You concluded the night with the delicious meal your three cooks had prepared and a movie. You were cuddled up on the couch, somehow all touching despite your different positions.

In the middle of the movie, you subtly looked at Changbin, sitting next to you. His gaze focused, face bare, and his natural dark curls giving him the fluffiest and most adorable appearance. After a few seconds of your maintained observation, he turned to you, a silent question mark in his dark eyes.

"When you didn't say anything after I confessed my story I got scared you were judging me," you whispered. "But after what you did tonight, I just wanted to thank you."

A satisfied smile illuminated his features as he reached for your hand, squeezing it. He didn't say anything for a while, his gaze back on the screen intently watching the movie, until he brought his mouth close to your ear and ushered in a low tone.

"You deserved to be shown the proper reaction for anything you would ever put on. That guy was an ass if he wasn't able to recognize what was in front of him." Your eyes turned round like saucers at the words you were hearing. You shifted to look at him, but his eyes were still on the screen. "We didn't have to put on a show or anything. We simply had to be honest and say what we’re all silently thinking all the time."

#ilya writes #stray kids #stray kids x reader #changbin #changbin x reader #bang chan #lee know #hyunjin #han skz #felix skz #seugmin #i.n skz #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenario #kpop fic

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beomiracles · 3 months

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hihi , firstly, congrats on the big 500!!! i’ve never sent you any asks before bc i’m shy even thru anon but your writings are amazing!!!! i often find myself re-reading criminal conscience because the way you write is just so detailed and perfect! since it’s the last day of requesting today, i wasn’t sure if you’re taking in any. but if you are, i was wondering if you’ve ever thought about writing an enemies to lovers for beomgyu? i’ve never requested before so i might not be good at expressing 😭🥹 but i was thinking academic rivals sort of thing where they’ve been rivals throughout most of their school years but they actually hold a soft spot for each other much like the netflix series ‘never have i ever’ i just love seeing 2 nerds not realising how much they actually love each other and are meant for one another like the fluff, angst, (sexual) frustration. chef’s kiss!

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... hii anonnie!! please don't be shy to talk to me I love love love interacting with you guys! :> YOU REREAD CRIMINAL CONSCIENCE? I think my heart exploded (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ — i loved your idea super super much, it's not very angsty rather fluffy I'd say but I still tried to incoorperate the enemies part! I hope you can still find it a good read >.<

wc -> 1.8k

pairings academic rival!beomgyu x afab!reader warnings enemies to ???, nothing crazy i'd say !

You let out a startled noise as Beomgyu slams his test paper down on your desk. Blinking up at him, you’re met with a menacing expression as he cocks an eyebrow toward his paper, a big 100%, written in red marker presented next to his name. You frown as you let out a small scoff, “you came all the way over here to shove a mere paper in my face?”

Beomgyu sneers as he snatches his test back, glancing down toward your own sheet which you immediately cover with your hand. — It doesn’t take him much effort to pry your guarding arms away and his eyes widen as they land on the 87% mark. The smirk that quickly etches its way to his lips is enough to make your stomach drop as you breathe out a heavy sigh. “Holy shit, you suck!” He exclaims, followed by a breathy laugh.

You shoot him a glare, “fuck off will you?” It was already bad enough that you had scored lower than him, you had also scored low enough to where it might affect your total grade. The last thing you needed was Beomgyu’s endless nagging, a constant reminder of your failure. Math was hard, it was perhaps the only class you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, Beomgyu on the other hand, seemed to have little issues as he sauntered around with his test sheet held high.

“Hey!” A few familiar faces approach your table and you sit up a bit straighter. “How’d it go?” One of the guys asks, you can’t quite place him but you know that he also took this class. Another girl nudged his side, “what — are you stupid? Obviously she scored a hundred, she’s just as smart as Beomgyu, maybe even smarter.” The girl turns to you with an expectant smile and you feel your chest churn with disappointment.

The first guy leans forward, “what’d you answer on question 15?” He wonders as he tries to sneak a glance at your paper. “I…” you quietly begin as you fumble for an excuse, “well I…I can’t remember”, you nervously chuckle. “Ah”, he leans back slightly as he frowns, “then can I see your paper?” — You bite your lip as your gaze flits between him and your test sheet, gripped tightly in your hands. “I don’t know”, you mumble and he groans, “oh come on, just one peek..” he presses.

“She said no”, Beomgyu’s firm voice cuts through the tense air as the guy snaps his head in his direction. “Yeah but she knows the answer–” he begins but is quickly cut short as Beomgyu pushes his own sheet against his chest, making him stumble backward in the process, “then look at mine instead”, he grunts as he turns his back on your confused classmate.

Bewildered, you glance between Beomgyu and the retreating group of people as they flip through his test paper. You open your mouth to say something but Beomgyu has already turned on his heel as he made his way back to his own desk. — It was odd, shouldn’t he be thrilled to let everyone know just how much of an idiot you were? Thinking back, you couldn’t recall a single instance in which he had been kind to you. Excet today.

Determined to score at least a 95 on your next test, you find yourself in a quiet corner of the library as late afternoon turns into early evening. Outside the window, students were emptying out of the large building as they headed home, the library had been almost vacant for the past hour. Your gaze drifts back to the multiple sheets of papers splayed across your desk, containing all sorts of advanced formulas. Your fingers rubbed the sides of your temple as you tried to decipher the equations before you. At some point, the letters and numbers had just started to blend together, creating one big mess and you groaned as you let your head drop forward.

Suddenly, the large oak doors of the library are pushed open and your ears perk up as you follow the sounds of footsteps approaching. You frown, who else would come here at such an hour, if not…Refusing a heavy sigh, you glance up to see Beomgyu pulling out the chair next to yours as he takes a seat beside you. — You could already imagine all the things he had to say and you cursed yourself for not choosing to study at home.

However, he remains quiet beside you as he leans back in his chair, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as he gazes ahead without as much as a word. Awkwardly, you shift in your own seat, reorganizing a few papers as you peer at him through the corner of your eye. — Finally you can’t take it anymore, “what do you want?” The question comes out like more of an accusation, but you don’t care.

Beomgyu shrugs before glancing over at your papers. “Advanced algebra?” He asks as his gaze travels over the, in his eyes, familiar formulas. Nodding, you internally groan, expecting a snarky remark. His next words surprise you.

“Do you need any help?”

It was a baffling statement coming from Choi Beomgyu, especially when directed to you. For as long as you could remember the two of you had been neck to neck when it came to your grades. The number on your papers suddenly determined a lot more — it determined your pride, perhaps even your happiness. There was truly no such feeling as scoring higher than Beomgyu, the bitter look on his face whenever you shoved your results up his nose. But then came your advanced math courses and suddenly, you weren’t playing in the same lane anymore.

You frown as you turn in your seat, searching his face for any kind of mischief. But you find nothing. Beomgyu tilts his head to the side as he studies you with a small grin, “algebra is pretty shit”, he then says and you feel the corner of your lip twitch into something dangerously close to a smile. “Yeah”, you mutter as you slide your book across the table for him to have a look. — “Ah um, question 29”, you quietly mumble and Beomgyu nods as his gaze flickers to the equation on the page.

“You need to factorize this part before you can find the value of x”, he says without tearing his eyes from the book. You blink as your eyes flit between his face and the paper in front of him, then back to your own unsolved equation in your notebook. Upon noticing your silence he lifts his gaze to look at you. “Do you have an extra pencil?” He wonders and you nod as you scramble to open your pencil case.

“Start by breaking out 2 from all of these”, he says as he leans over to write alongside your failed previous attempts. When this close, the smell of his perfume fills your senses, he smelled like fresh apples, neither sweet nor sour, just…nice. You try your best to keep up with the movement of the pen as he breaks down the equation, explaining things as he went. Though your gaze slowly drifts to his fingers around the pencil, to the small watch around his wrist, to his exposed forearms, his shirt pushed up to his elbows, your eyes trail along the faint veins, noting how the muscles there flex as he grips the pencil.

Your gaze then flickers toward his face, inches from yours, his lips moving, though the words coming out goes unregistered by your clouded mind. You watch the slight flush of his cheeks, his soft hair falling across his forehead. You watch his eyebrows twitch, his dark eyes unwavering as he focuses on the problem at hand. — You don’t even realize when he stops talking, the air around you falling into a thick silence. It’s not until he lifts his gaze over to you that you finally jump back into action.

Blinking away the surprise, your lips part as you search for a way to explain yourself. Beomgyu beats you to it, “did that make sense?” he asks, if he had caught on to your blatant stare he didn’t comment on it, you felt grateful. Biting your lip, your eyes drop back to his neat handwriting, “I uh…” Not really, no. But you couldn’t possibly say that.

“Here, I’ll walk you through it”, he says as he points the tip of the pencil toward the beginning of his lengthy calculation. This time you get it right, and a small part of you felt hopeful, like you actually had a chance at scoring those 95%. — “Hey um”, you turn to him with a hesitant frown, not wanting to come off as ungrateful, yet you don't think you could go without asking. “Why are you doing this? I mean, helping me, didn’t think it would be in your best interest..”

Beomgyu remains quiet as he watches you with a small smirk, “I suppose not.” He then sighs as he leans back against his chair, the scent of apples suddenly diminishing from your radar. “I saw you in class”, he drawls as he twirls your pencil between his fingers, studying it intently, “I guess I realized…it doesn’t feel particularly good to win if the odds aren’t fair.” His eyes snap back to yours and he offers you a small grin. “Don’t you think?”

Your lips part but no words come out and you find yourself gawking at him almost dumbfoundedly. Was this really the same guy you had been competing with all these years? In the golden glimmer of the setting sun, Choi Beomgyu suddenly looked different, very different. — “I do suppose you are right..” you mumble as your gaze drops to your paper.

Beomgyu reaches over to his bag as he rummages through it, seemingly in search of something. The small rustling noise garners your attention as you subtly peer over at him. “I actually came here to ask”, he begins as he slides a textbook over toward you. Immediately recognizing the sleek cover, your fingers trails across the title. Mythology was your favorite subject, and the book before you, well you knew it by heart.

You give him a questioning glance as Beomgyu sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. He clears his throat, “I uh, I came here to ask if you could help me with this.” He quickly motions toward the book in your hands, “I…I’m stuck on chapter six”, he mumbles and you flip the book open, easily sorting through its contents.

The corner of your lip twitches as you place the textbook between the two of you. Beomgyu gives you a hopeful look and you offer him a genuine smile, it was probably the first time you had smiled in his presence.

“I’ll walk you through it. After all, winning isn’t fun if the odds aren’t fair.”

taglist ✎... @theresawtf @jjklvr9 @binniebakery @beomies-world @hyukaaa @ninoshome1 @gardnhee @babymochibeargyu @lunathewritingcat @duckywuckypookiepie @naoristerling @oddracha @soohashits @junimoa03 @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @beomtasticc @369girlswannadrinkwine @gudboibeomgyu @sanasour @celestialbeomgyu @f4iryfever

(if your tag is not working please check your settings to make sure that your blog is not hidden!) if you're struggling, go here.

#beomiracles ₊˚⊹ ᰔ #serene's 500 bash !#Choi Beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fanfic #Choi Beomgyu x you #Choi Beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu imagines #Choi Beomgyu imagines

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rainerioun · 2 months

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𝖸𝖤𝖲 𝖮𝖱 𝖭𝖮? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

𝖣𝖨𝖲𝖢𝖫𝖠𝖨𝖬𝖤𝖱 : This tarot reading is not a replacement for medical or professional advice. You are accountable for your own decisions and actions. Interpret the reading as you see fit.

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED: MARCH 14TH, 2024.

Please don't redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST

PILE ONE

Yes or No? Queen of Wands | The Devil [Reversed] | The Sun.

If this isn't a yes, I don't know what is! Within this lies an abundance of creativity and growth. Allow yourself and your passion to soar freely, driving you forward. Leave behind confusion and reconnect with the initial spark that ignited your journey, that joy that surged within you. There's no room for doubt; this path paves the way to success.

Additional Pull. Cheetah : Solar Force, Action, Achievement, Masculine Energy. | Passion.

If you asked about a decision, I suggest you think back on what brought you to this point and gave you that original purpose, as I said previously, before proceeding further. The Cheetah card emphasizes both action and rationale. Using logic and intuition while navigating this situation is important. Also, Don't forget to have fun. :]

Signs and Extra : Scorpio, Sagittarius, Leo, Aries, November, 11, Discipline, Free of Boundaries.

PILE TWO

Yes or No? Three of Cups | Ace of Pentacles | Four of Wands [Reversed].

This is a resounding yes! Remember, it's perfectly acceptable to let your emotions and intuition guide you here. Maintaining a balance between your inner and outer worlds is achievable. If have a close community or friendships, lean on them; they will support you. By nurturing and embracing your emotional side, you will be led toward abundance, whether in terms of wealth or other valuable resources. Initially, the transition may feel unstable or tense, but ultimately, the transition/change will prove its worth.

Additional Pull. Camel : Resourceful, Independent, Knows One's Self. Axe : Break Up, Separation, Stopping The Pattern. | Boat : Receiving What You Need, Progression, Arriving, Moving On.

Remain calm and find satisfaction in what you already possess. You are responsible for your own future deeds. If you want something changed, change it. Opposites will become balanced.

Signs and Extra : Cancer, Leo, Scorpio, 7, July, Growth, Greatest Desire, Potential.

PILE THREE

Yes or No? Three of Pentacles [Reversed] | Four of Pentacles [Reversed] | Seven of Pentacles.

For some of you, the answer is a simple and straightforward 'no,' while others may need to hear the message. If you find yourself feeling generally stagnant or even stuck in a competitive environment, it's time to release that. If you wish for the answer to be 'yes,' let go of attachments to physical possessions. The energy surrounding you might lean towards materialism and even greed, causing you to cling tightly to your belongings. However, holding on so firmly will only hinder your progress. If you have been overthinking, rest assured that loosening your grasp will help your desires manifest appropriately. Whether it's personal growth or profit you seek, freeing yourself from such attachments will ensure that you flourish.

Additional Pull. Tiger : Lunar Force, Ease In Darkness, Feminine Energy. | Earthworm : Shy, Hesitant, Reluctant To Share Inner Vision. Addiction : Obsession, Possession, Controlling, Restraint. | Separation : Sadness, Missing You, Yearning, Unsure Of Future.

Sit in the quiet moments of life without fear. They can be enjoyable too. Not everything has to be in constant motion. It's okay to find contentment in the present. You have the strength to navigate through this period of stillness. If you're hesitant, don't lose hope. Even if it feels uncomfortable to express yourself, take the leap. Who cares if it embarrasses you in the end? At least you are unapologetically yourself. Choose the wiser decision.

Signs and Extra : Pisces, Aries, Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, 3, March, Intelligence, Thinking and Communication.

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fortunatelyuniquepeach · 11 months

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How you changed me𓆩♡𓆪

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

cw/tags: fluff, jealousy, simon slowly healing.

a/n: please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes . enjoyyy🫶.

You were catching up with johnny after he came back from his mission. His way of telling stories has always been funny and made everyone want to listen, and you really tried to but the sight ahead of you made you frozen in place, johnny's voice becoming a background noise.

Your secret partner of two years, Simon Riley or as everyone else calls him "Ghost" let a recruit stand too close to him, touching his arm every chance they got. It wouldn't be a big deal if it was someone else, if it wasn't the ghost himself who'd never let anyone touch him, especially a stranger he just met a few hours ago. How could he? It took you whole 3 months to just be able to pat his shoulder without feeling his body tense. And there he is, letting some recruit he doesn't even remember their name, feeling him up as they like.

You suddenly felt johnny shaking your shoulder, bringing you back to the present. "You're with me?" he said, looking a little worried. "Yeah, sorry, I just zoned out for a minute" you answered, hoping he'd believe you. Johnny knew about you and a Simon, and usually he'd keep his cool and not expose you both, but other times he liked teasing you for being in love with your lieutenant.

"I'm sorry. I think I'm a little tired, johnny. I'll be in my room, okay?", you said raising your voice a little hoping to catch your lover's attention. Johnny just nodded with a little smile, and you left walking to your room.

_____________________________

You've been in your bed for two hours now, tossing around unable to fall asleep despite how tired you are. The thought of him with them burning a hole in your chest. You weren't jealous as much as you were hurt. You thought you were special with how much he let you touch him, but maybe you were wrong? Is he bored of you? does he just not love you anymore?

Your thoughts were interrupted with the sound of door knocking. You didn't want to answer as you didn't want to meet anyone, but whoever was at the door didn't stop. "come in", you said as you slowly got up, the heavy feeling in your chest getting a little less worse as the tall masked man walked in.

"Sleeping already?" he asked, sitting next to you. you just hummed not meeting his eyes, hoping he'd get a hint. "hmm? something wrong, sweetheart?" Before you gave him a sassy reply, something like 'what do you think?' You decided to just tell him the truth.You've missed him so much all you wanted was for him to make it up to you.

"You let them touch you" you said in a low voice, finally meeting his eyes. he looked at you confused, not understanding what you meant. "Who touched me, love?" his hand slowly made its way to yours, squeezing it. "The new recruit, si. Their hands were all over you." Even though you meant to keep your voice low, you couldn't help but sound angry as you remembered the sight of them touching him.

"They were? Well, i definitely didn't notice." That's it. You lost your temper. "What the hell do you mean, simon! what? you're just suddenly so comfortable with people touching you? because as i remember, it took me months , MONTHS! just for you to let me touch you and now you're ju-", he watched you ranting in anger to him, your voice so much louder now that the whole base must be hearing, but you couldn't give a shit.

"No, it's not so sudden. It's you." he interrupted you calmly in his gentle voice "I'm sorry?", he chuckled at you, squeezing your hands a little tighter. "You made me this way, lovie. i know it took us months, and i'm lucky you stuck around and didn't get bored. I got so used to your touch, to being touched that it doesn't scare me as much now. plus, i couldn't help but stare at the pretty one standing in front of me. must be why i didn't notice"

Just like that, you felt your anger melt away. You really wanted to be upset and take a stance, but it was a little difficult with how sweet he is.you made him this way, you let simon comfortable to show up instead of ghost.You showed him true love.You taught him to let himself be loved. You felt your whole face heat up at his words, a smile made its way to your mouth. "Okay fine, guess I'm not so mad anymore". He laughed this time, his hands leaving yours to hold your waist instead. He rests his forehead against yours, letting you leave his mask up and push your lips against his in a small kiss.

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heyidkyay · 7 months

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Nineteen

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: AH this newest update has been so fun and emotional to write I'm ngl, but I'm so excited to post it!! Thanks to @procrastinatinglikeapro for proof reading it and for being so lovely with all her ideas! Please read the warninggggs, I hope everyone enjoys it, it’s a long one 🩶

Warnings: smut, feelings over scars, talks of death/selfharm in the sense of not taking care of yourself (past tense), mention of drug use

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There were much worse ways to wake up than to a head of messy curls between your legs.

I’d been dreaming about something, I knew that much. Though the thought of it was now hazy as I inhaled deeply and shifted against bedsheets, hand reaching out to feel for the body that had fallen asleep beside me. Only it wasn’t there.

My brow pinched itself into a small frown, confused, and I blinked blearily into the dim light of my bedroom. A faint chuckle echoed and I wrinkled my nose at it, tilting my head downwards to peer towards the end of the bed.

The duvet had been shoved away, pooling around my lower legs and over the grinning idiot settled between them. He pressed a soft kiss to my inner thigh, hands gripping my hips with a certain tenderness I wasn’t all that familiar with.

Instinctively my fingers moved to work their way into his hair, taking root there and tucking a helpless strand up out of his face. “What you doin’?”

My sleep-filled question was only met with another chuckle, then two more gentle kisses. My hips lifted a fraction as my feet planted themselves more evenly on either side of him.

“Matty.” I breathed out airily, wanting a reply, trying my best to remove the remains of sleep which continued to cling to my mind.

“Keep talking.” Matty finally spoke after what felt like an eternity, his breath tickled the skin of my thighs and I fought to withhold a shudder. “You sound so pretty.”

Stupidly, I smiled, blinking down at him slowly and enjoying the feel of him; the pressure of his arms as they rested over the tops of my legs, crowding the outer muscle, and the how his nose nudged the curve of my thigh, sending a wave of goosebumps over the exposed flesh. “Should I always expect to be woken up this way?”

He nipped me then and I inhaled sharply at the abruptness of it, hands strengthening their hold in his hair. “Would you like that?”

I felt my eyes slip close, letting the rasp of his voice trail up the length of my torso and light a fire somewhere deep in my gut. I hummed in reply, a thumb brushing over his temple when he began to plant kisses up my right leg, getting sloppier and sloppier with each press of his mouth.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” I breathed back to him, spreading my legs even further apart to give him room and shuffling ever so slightly down the bed. “Yeah, I would.”

I felt more than heard his next chuckle.

My chest tightened, shoulder blades pressing deeper into the mattress.

“Matty.” I nearly whined, fingers tightening once more.

He retreated completely then, and I wished I hadn’t even spoken when he asked, “What’s wrong?” with a barely there snicker.

I didn’t pout but it was a near thing, and he must’ve known it too if the smirk he wore gave any implication. “Don’t be a dick, please.”

My hands shifted slightly as he crawled his way back up the bed, bracketing my head between his forearms so that he could lean in for a proper kiss, delving into my mouth without much care for morning breath or the fact that I must have looked a state.

I grabbed aimlessly at the back of his neck, pressing up into him whilst simultaneously attempting to pull him even closer. I could feel the way he’d angled his knee on one side of my waist to hold himself up and the press of his fingers as they curled their way into my hair.

Dragging my hands down and across his front, I explored the expanse of his torso, pleased to find that he had already rid himself of the tee he’d gone to sleep in. My thumb brushed over the jut of his hip, tracing the skin I knew was the home to his ‘we are kings' tattoo. I found myself wanting, desperate to explore every part of him.

He broke away to stare down at me.

“God, you don’t-” Matty shook his head and delved back in for another kiss, “Don’t even know,” then another, “What you fucking do to me.” He punctuated those last few words with a succession of quick pecks and when he leant back in to steal another I captured his bottom lip between my teeth, before slowly I let him go.

“Show me then.” I demanded, enjoying having the feel of this man’s full focus on me.

Matty wasted no time and hastily moved his hand downwards to pull at the hem of my top. I lifted myself up slightly from the mattress to help and released a stuttered sigh when he began to work his way down the length of my torso, littering my collar with wet kisses, nipping here and there but never for long.

I didn’t think much about my scars in that moment, hands finding purchase amongst his hair and neck once more, before I felt his lips skim across the length of a larger one that jumped over my right shoulder. My breath stuttered at the feeling and my hold fell slack at the sudden reality that hit me.

Matty paused, obviously having sensed my harsh change, and raised his head up towards me slowly, like a person would when they didn’t want to spook a wild horse. He waited, probably trying to decipher the expression I wore.

But my mind had ultimately stopped.

“Squeaks. You good?”

My eyes snapped up to meet his own, then wandered over the expanse of his face. I saw a plethora of emotions there but none were of pity or disgust, and I found myself swallowing at the realisation.

It wasn’t that I’d never shown my scars to anybody before, or purposely gone out of my way to keep them hidden during intimate moments like this- well, at least I hadn’t for a long time now. But before, I’d typically had time to wrap my head around it first, come to terms with the fact that I’d be bearing them to somebody else, or at the very least get to mention it to the other person beforehand.

This, this wasn’t that. And this was Matty. Matty, who’d probably had countless models in his bed. Matty, a man who was both lusted after and fought over. Matty, who was currently looking down at me with eyes so kind and soft and patient.

I let go of a shaky breath.

“I’m good.” I finally told him, thankful for the way my voice didn’t waver when I said it.

He smiled down at me, a mischievous thing that eased my lingering doubts and settled my mind, before he was disappearing again. Nose brushing along the bone of my collar and over the milky white scars that littered it, sucking hard and fast at the skin just below my ear and then again at the shell of my shoulder.

I arched up into him, chest rising and falling the lower he got, leaving his mark alongside the rest of them. Only, I found myself wishing his were the ones that always remained.

He looked up at me once he reached the hem of my sleep shorts, an older pair I favoured, striped cotton and rimmed with a narrow strip of lace. I nodded, already knowing what his silent ask would be, and raised my hips up to allow him to drag the material down the length of my legs.

Matty paused once more after he’d discarded them, tossing them somewhere to the edge of the room. I heard them land with a dull thud I didn’t see, too busy watching him watch me.

–

She was gorgeous.

Had he told her that?

Had he said it enough?

He’d say it again now but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and he couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from her long enough to get his mind to work properly again. Her name on a constant loop in his head.

“Fuck.” He heard himself mutter, hands already reaching out to touch, trailing up the length of her leg, up up up, until they danced between the crease of her thigh.

Unable to help himself he delved downwards to press another hot open-mouthed kiss to the sweet skin there, smiling at the catch he heard in her breath. “So pretty for me.”

Those hands of hers returned to his hair and he couldn’t fault her for it, she’d seemed like the type to want for something to hold.

“Matty.” She dragged out and God, did he want to record that sound solely for the purpose of listening to it over and over again whenever he was missing her and had his hand wrapped around himself.

It seemed that someone must’ve been listening to his inner workings of his mind because again she said it not a second later, the same pitch, same breathy exhale. Matty’s dick twitched and he suddenly felt rather restricted in his boxers, but he didn’t dare pull away, too content to just lie there between her thighs.

His kisses grew closer and closer, until she was writhing beneath his mouth, fingers clinging tightly onto his curls. She whimpered and he groaned at the very sound, she seemed to like that though, forcing his face further into her folds.

Any other time he might have laughed at her sudden boldness, but he was a little preoccupied. The taste of her seemed to explode on his tongue, rich and heady, and he reached up, hands gripping at her hips to pull her more forcefully against his mouth. Four long licks and she outright moaned, loud and free, uncaring in truth, and it only spurred Matty on.

Quite suddenly he wanted to devour her whole, to keep the taste of her on his tongue always. And so he began to trace his name on her clit. His own selfish need to put his brand on her somehow, his claim. She bucked up against his chin, and he forced her back down. Groaning as his fingers trailed up to join his mouth.

“Oh, God, oh shit.” He heard her mutter when his tongue delved deeper, her hands twisting in his hair, holding him against her as she chanted.

She came not long after and Matty continued to lick languidly whilst she shuddered beneath him, drawing harsh and laboured breaths into hollow lungs. He withdrew slightly to look up at her when her hands fell slack in his hair and ran his tongue along the length of his own lip, lapping up what was there. She made quite the picture. Laid out before him, cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling with each new breath she struggled to draw in.

Selfishly he gave one final brush of his thumb over the expanse of her overwhelmed nerves, before forcing himself up onto his knees.

His chin was quite noticeably wet with the evidence of her pleasure and his tongue ached like fuck all else, but he felt as though he’d gone and started his day the best way he possibly could.

So with that thought and a satisfied grin, Matty leaned over the edge of the bed to make a grab for the t-shirt he’d thrown there earlier and wiped his face with it, pressing the heel of his hand into his softening cock when he rose.

He felt like a kid, having jizzed in his pants, but he’d gotten off on that almost as much as she had. And although he’d definitely have to shower sooner rather than later, and would surely have to go commando once he was clean, Matty couldn’t find it in him to regret the way it had gone down.

Fuck, she was maddening. Those sounds she’d made, how responsive she’d been. He only wished that he could scar the experience into his memory.

Tossing the shirt back to the floor, Matty crawled his way up the bed one more, throwing himself onto the chilled sheets beside her, admiring the way her chest continued to move with each deep inhale. His eyes latched onto everything she had to offer him, but mainly the scars she’d been so guarded about before.

They weren’t as bad as she’d made them out to be. Though he was only drawing that conclusion from the small and quick quips she’d made about them since knowing her, and even those had been rare and few.

He rather enjoyed the sight of them, weren’t all that different to the look of a tattoo in truth, though he’d never admit to that out loud- he wasn’t that much of a twat, nor insensitive. But still, he found himself wanting to reach out and trail over every jagged point and rounded curve of them. They were a part of her and he found them as equally beautiful as he did those soulful eyes of hers.

His index was grazing a faded pink line before he could think better of it. It rested just below the curve of her breast and looked to have been deep once upon a time, not as deep as a few of the others she bared but far enough for the skin to have raised itself in the shape of a small bump when it had scarred over.

She didn’t stop his wandering hand. He noticed that after a few minutes had passed between them and the rise of her chest had evened out.

His eyes swept up her side to find her staring carefully back at him, he smiled and watched as she slowly copied the motion. Then witnessed the way her eyes darted downwards, shit. Matty almost went to cover up the wet patch that had seeped into his boxers with his hand but knew that there wasn’t much point. She’d seen it now.

She wore an expression full of surprise when he looked back up at her again, as well as the beginnings of a smirk too. “Was gonna offer, but…”

Matty rolled his eyes and shoved her teasing smile away from him, she laughed giddily into her pillow.

“Yeah, laugh it up,” He retorted, and sprawled out further on the mattress, tilting his head back far enough to stretch as his eyes fell closed, “But you weren’t the one listening to you moan, babe. Fuck, it was-” He just ended up shaking his head, unable to compare the sound of her to anything right off the top of his head.

She buried her responding groan into the pillow and Matty tutted, grinning lazily up at the ceiling before he rolled on over to look at her.

“Nah, you’re doing it all wrong. It was more like-” And his mimicking whimpers were quickly cut short by the press of her hand against his mouth. Matty widened his eyes in exaggeration over the top of her thumb and mumbled something into her palm.

“Shut up.” Was all that she said to him before she was pulling away again.

Matty rolled his eyes once more. “Rude.” He huffed, forcing his weight onto the bend of his elbow so that he could properly look down at her, “You know, a thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”

She swatted him for that one before dissolving into a fit of giggles, tugging him in by the scruff of his neck to kiss him again. He wondered briefly if she could taste herself on his tongue and the thought forced a grunt to wind its way up out of his throat.

She pulled back at that, but gave him one last peck before the pair of them then settled on their sides to share a pillow.

Her thumb reached out to brush the edge of his mouth once they’d eased into a peaceful quiet. Matty kissed it, content to just lie there with her for as long as she’d let him.

A car rumbled outside her bedroom window not long later and then it was her whisper that broke the calm. “What time is it?”

Matty wasn’t even sure. Just that the sun had been creeping its way slowly up into the sky when he’d first woken. He rolled over awkwardly to make a grab for the phone he’d left to charge on the side earlier, “Almost eight.” He told her.

Squeaks blinked in surprise, eyebrows rising, “Teds should be up by now.”

Matty shrugged and pulled her close again, draping an arm over her waist and pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “Had a long day yesterday, can’t blame the kid for having a lie in.”

She snorted, “You’re the one who kept him up late.”

“He was learning!” Matty immediately defended, though he was grinning too. “And besides, I didn’t hear you complaining.”

He felt her shake her head beneath his chin, and could even picture the way she was most definitely rolling her eyes at him. “You tend to get away with everything, don’t you?”

Smirking, Matty couldn’t deny that. “Just the little things.” Was all that he replied with and she laughed into the column of his throat.

“Hm, don’t get used to it with me.” She hummed and he hoped that she was smiling still. “I won’t make things easy for you, let that be known.”

“Oh don’t I know it.” Matty teased, enjoying the way she’d wrapped her legs around his own, “Jaw fucking aches with how hard you made me work for it.”

She gasped and he barked out a loud laugh when she pinched his side, “Prick.”

Matty merely hummed, breathing in the scent of her and letting himself get swept up in the easy reality of it all.

But then, “WAKE!”

They both seemed to freeze at the sudden interruption and Mouse was quick to pull away from out of his hold to make a grab for the tee he’d chucked onto the floor.

“Not that.”

She grimaced at the sight of it in her hand and then shot him a begrudging look before kicking it towards a basket full of washing, pulling a larger shirt from the dresser and throwing it on.

Matty laid there on the bed, entranced by the way it fell so effortlessly off of her shoulder, exposing the scars she had there but also the marks he’d given her too. He grinned lazily and she narrowed her eyes at him when she caught it.

“What you smiling about?”

Lifting his arms up to cushion the back of his head, Matty shrugged, “No reason, baby.”

Her squint deepened, not buying a word of it, but before she could question him again, the bedroom door shot open to reveal a pouty toddler standing in a pair of pj bottoms and his superman cape. Matty raised a questioning brow.

“Save any lives yet today, Teds?”

Still grumpy with sleep, Teddy stomped his way further into the room whilst rubbing at his eyes. Matty was amused by the sight, but also the kid’s hair, which looked just as wild and untamed as his typically did.

“No. Sleepin’.” The boy grumbled to him before he seemed to realise that it was Matty he’d been talking to and his face brightened into something a little more sweeter. “Matty.” He acknowledged with a silly smile, eyes still puffy and blinking back the drowsiness he’d been suffering from.

“Teddy.” Matty mimicked, sitting up on the bed to poke his tongue out at the boy, who merely giggled in reply. “What cartoon’s on today then, mate?”

Teddy paused and it was like a light had switched itself on inside his head because one second he was staring back at Matty and the next he was barrelling his way down the hallway towards the tele set.

“Don’t drop the remote again, Teds!” Squeaks called out just before her son could disappear around the corner, she shook her head after and then turned towards Matty, “Every time it’s him that drops it, and every time it’s me that has to spend a good half hour down on my knees searching for the batteries that fucking escape.”

Matty smiled at the thought of her on her knees, and she must’ve sensed it too because she lobbed a thick hoodie his way, as well as a pair of joggers that looked to be his. He frowned down at the items and wondered when he’d left them here.

“They’re from that night I spent at yours, when I thought we’d-” She coughed then, an excuse to not finish that sentence, but Matty already knew what she’d been on about. Mind flashing back to that night he’d practically confessed all to her, and the next morning when she’d woken up in his bed and had a full blown panic attack.

“Thanks.” He said, skipping over it all because it was in the past now and he didn’t want her stressing over shit they couldn’t well change, “Can I bum the first shower?”

She hummed, already moving around the room to tidy up a bit, “Yeah, I’ll get in after. Don’t wanna leave Teds on his own for too long.”

“I’ll be quick,” Matty assured her, already jumping up out of the bed to stumble his way on over to the door, “And don’t bother with breakfast, alright? I’ll make it.”

A look of surprise passed over her face at the offer but Matty didn’t comment on it, having learnt long ago that him doing the most mundane tasks for her only continued to shock her.

“Five minutes!” He called out over his shoulder before he shut the bathroom door behind him. He stepped into the shower with a smile on his face when he heard her shout back a teasing taunt about timing him.

He figured that he could grow used to mornings like these.

…

It wasn’t long later when Matty shuffled his way out of the bathroom and further into the flat, ruffling his hair dry with a towel after having pulled on the clothes Mouse had thrown at him.

Having started down the hallway, he could hear the noise of the tele playing another episode of that show Teddy favoured and the kid’s faint chuckles whenever the characters said something mildly funny. He entered the front room to find the tyke settled on the floor before it, swaddled in a couple of blankets and still half dressed.

“Comfy, little man?” Matty questioned him with a smile, draping the towel he’d used over his shoulders when he’d come to pause by him.

Teddy peered up at him with an almost adoring expression, something Matty was still struggling to get used to. Because see it was one thing to have fans crying out to make a grab for his hand on stage, or asking for a photo in the street, he could deal with all that, had gotten used to it in fact, but this was something else. This was a tiny little bean of a person, so full of innocence and purity, looking up at him as though he was something to be admired, something special.

“Bluey ‘tending to be a bat, Matty.” Teddy grinned, pointing up at the screen towards where it looked like a cartoon dog was hanging out of a tree, “Up down.”

Matty tilted his head at the picture and snorted, before he crouched down to run a hand through the kid’s unruly hair. “Upside down, hey?” He corrected with a smile, “Looks fun.”

Teddy nodded, eyes now trained back on the tv screen. “Wanna be bat.” He mumbled, unconsciously leaning further into Matty’s hand.

Matty chuckled to himself before he was hit with a thought, “Wanna be a bat, do you?” He smirked, hand already moving to wrap itself around Teddy’s tummy, “Alright then, Superman, get ready!”

With a squeal from Teddy, Matty swiftly jumped up and flipped the kid up into his arms, letting him dangle upside down. “Matty!”

Grinning, Matty jostled him about a bit, enough so that Teddy’s giggles started to echo around the room. “Yeah, Teddy?” He answered the boy, peering down at him from over the tops of his feet, “Did you want something?”

Teddy laughed again, harder, and then shook his head, positively delighted by the whole charade. “Down, Matty!”

“Down? What do you mean down? You said you wanted to be a bat!” Matty’s feigning of being completely unaware only made Teddy laugh louder.

“Down, Matty!” Teddy managed to giggle out again, wriggling in his hold now, enough so that Matty reckoned he ought to.

“Alright, alright.” He chuckled and pulled the little monster back up into his arms, sitting him the right way up, “Good?”

Teddy’s hair was a frizzy mess and his cheeks were all flushed, but he looked giddy with joy, grinning almost madly at Matty to the point where the corners of his mouth almost succeeded in their attempt at reaching his eyes.

“Good! ‘gain!”

Matty snorted, but dropped the kid back down again. This little passtime of theirs seemed to go on for a while before Mouse wandered out to see what all the fuss was about.

Both Matty and Teddy appeared to freeze upon noticing her standing in the doorway, a single brow quirked. “What’s going on in here then?” She laughed and Matty noticed the way her eyes darted between the two of them, “Hm?”

“Bats, mama!”

Her bewildered gaze wandered to Matty after hearing Teddy’s reply and so Matty pulled the kid up into his arms again so that he could settle him back on his mound of blankets.

Matty jerked his chin towards the tele, “Blame the dog.”

Squeaks merely rolled her eyes, albeit fondly, before her attention was redirected towards the phone she held. Matty noted her slight frown.

“What’s up?” He asked her quietly once Teddy had grown enraptured by the kids show again.

She sighed softly to herself but looked up at him as she did, pursuing her lips before she answered, “Just this work thing. Adi messaged me.”

Matty hummed and started to trail his way into the kitchen, recalling his earlier promise of breakfast. He could manage breakfast. “Right, anything bad?”

Squeaks shook her head, having followed, but was already staring back down at her phone again. “Apparently we somehow managed to score an hour with this one guest. Fucking notoriously hard to pin down and rarely ever available to work without it being in a moments notice, but their PR team just emailed us with an offer.”

Matty knew shit about the inner workings of a radio show, only that a guest like that could probably work wonders and bring in a whole new audience for them. “And this is a bad thing?”

She threw her head back and groaned unhappily, “Yes! It’s a bad thing, Matty! Because the only moments notice they’ve given us is a fucking hour! Apparently they’re only in London for the afternoon.”

Oh.

Things seemed to click for him then, “So you’ve got to get ready and be down at the studio as soon as?”

Another sigh and she nodded, Matty watched on as she dragged a tired hand across her face, “Or at least I would be if I had someone to watch Teddy. But Finn is on a flight back home, mum is too far away, and I can’t just turn up with Teddy to something like this- I’ll have to cancel.” And with that tangent she’s already skimming her thumbs across the screen of her phone.

Matty chewed on the inside of his lip, weighing out the pro’s and con’s, and what her reaction might just be to what he wanted to say, but then he thought fuck it. “I mean, I could watch him.”

Mouse’s head snapped up at that and Matty tried not to think too much about the weight of her gaze. “What?”

He shrugged, moving away from the counter to pick up a pan, “I could watch him, if you want.” He repeated, pausing to look her in the eye.

Look, he wasn’t stupid, he knew this was a fucking big deal. Yeah, sure, he’d spent a lot of time with Teddy, but never the two of them alone. Him offering, was his way of helping her out, yes- but also? It was her entrusting her son to him. And that in itself was a big BIG fucking ask. “I’ve only got studio time today and that’s later, but if your thing goes on long enough then I’ll be alright to cancel.”

She was watching him like a hawk now, expression half bewildered- like she’d not even thought of this scenario playing out- and half apprehensive. He supposed he could understand.

“Really?” She asked him and Matty noted how surprised her voice sounded, almost as though she couldn’t believe he’d offered. But he didn’t want to linger too much on that, he knew he had fucked up in the past and heard that same tone time and time before, but never with her.

Matty dipped his chin in silent acknowledgment, “Yeah, you’ll probably only be gone a couple hours, right?”

“Right.”

He swallowed, picking up the carton of eggs she kept in the cupboard and moving shit about to make it seem as though he wasn’t stressing about it either. “And me and Teds would just be here, I’ll make him food while you go get dressed, then maybe we’ll take a walk down to the park or the shops. Be back before you are,” He shrugged again, licking at his bottom lip before he continued on in his ramble, “Could even order a takeaway when you get in- A chinese or an indian, or something.”

When he chanced a glance back up, Matty found Mouse staring at him, her phone still clutched in the palm of her hand. He almost thought then that she’d turn him down, wave the offer off and cancel on the show’s guest, claiming it was too soon, that she was grateful but couldn’t make that jump just yet.

But then, “A takeaway sounds good.”

Matty startled and the spoon he’d been holding slipped out of his hand as he turned to better face her. “Yeah?” He asked, but they both knew this wasn’t about a takeaway.

He saw her throat bob around a swallow, before she took a breath and gave him a slow smile, “Yeah.” She answered softly, and Matty fucking beamed.

“Yeah?” He said again, eyebrows climbing up his forehead as he stepped his way on over the tiles to wrap his hands around her waist.

She laughed at the face he made, but he was excited. Could practically feel his heart hammering away in his chest. “Yeah, Matty.” Mouse murmured into the space between them, smiling up at him now, “If you’re sure.”

Matty laughed too and squeezed her hips, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

And as scary as it all seemed, he found that he was.

“I’m sure.”

–

Saying you could watch a kid, and then actually watching a kid, were two very different things as Matty quickly found out.

Teddy was rambunctious most of the time his mum was around, but once she’d given him a kiss, said her goodbyes and headed out the door, all that increased by tenfold.

“Teds, mate. Look, I love the cape, I do. But if you wanna go out you’re gonna have to put on a shirt.”

He was met with a stoney face and an evidently displeased pout. And that would’ve been fucking hilarious in itself, especially with the way the kid now had his arms crossed over his chest and chocolate from an earlier biscuit smeared across his chin, but that was only if Matty wasn’t the one standing on the other end of it.

“Please?”

See he wasn’t prone to begging for much of anything in life, he just wasn’t built that way, rebel and all that shite. But for Teddy? Matty reckoned he’d do an awful lot.

He crouched down to level the kid with his best melting look, one which had once gotten him through tsa with a couple ounces of coke in his back pocket, and simply prayed for the best.

At last, Teddy seemed to crumble! Or at least, almost. Because Matty did eventually manage to wrangle him into a decent outfit- only, the cape stayed.

Matty found that he could breathe a little easier once they’d made it out the front door, walking hand in hand with Teddy whilst the little monster splashed about in the slowly drying puddles yesterday’s rain had left.

He’d thrown on his beanie, the one both Mouse, and now Teddy too, seemed to poke fun at him for, as well as a thick scarf to keep the biting chill at bay and cover up some of his face.

“Where’re we headed then?” Matty voiced once they’d walked a few streets with Teddy pointing out all the birds that he could see. “Park, or the shops?”

“Lego!”

Matty peered down at Teddy’s big grin and pleading eyes, guessing that the lad was after one of the few toy shops in town. He could do that, he supposed, and smiled down at Teddy to tell him so.

They ended up stumbling across an Argos further up the main road, the windows lined with ads of all sorts but Teddy spotted one showcasing all their Lego. And so they wandered in, Matty trying to recall the last time he’d ever been in an Argos whilst Teddy scrolled through the selection on one of their many reserve machines.

“Do they have Lego for everything?” He found himself asking the kid, who was propped up on his hip to better view the screen. Because it seemed it; flowers, cars, fucking aeroplanes- they even had a red telephone box that Matty couldn’t imagine any kid choosing.

Teddy managed to spot a set made up of parts for a Passenger Train that cost almost an arm and a leg, but Matty added it to his basket all the same, as well as the Pac-Man mini arcade they sold, which had been staring at him the entire time.

What? It looked sick and he figured that he’d need something to do whilst Teddy messed about with his train.

So they paid and the bloke at the collection point seemed to sort of recognise Matty, going off of the faces he was making, but the guy only gave him a strained sort of smile and then a nod when he’d called out their number.

He and Teddy were slow to set off again, Matty trying to wrangle the boxes of Lego he was now carrying whilst also keeping hold of the kid in his care, questioning when the hell Lego sets had gotten so fucking big. Didn’t they all used to come in plastic boxes or some shit?

He managed it anyway and they wandered about window shopping before Teddy finally spotted an ice cream shop up ahead.

Matty was honest to God thankful for it, the bags were growing heavier as Teddy dragged him every which way and the chance to finally sit down gave him an opportunity to shoot off another text to Mouse. Although she hadn’t replied to his last, he knew that was mostly down to her being on air.

“Still can’t believe you got bubblegum.” Matty admonished once they’d sat down at a table, he wrinkled his nose at the blue monstrosity the kid seemed to be enjoying.

“I like it!” Teddy giggled in kind, even though he was eyeing up the scoop of cookie dough Matty had picked for himself.

With a humoured smile, Matty gestured for him to pass over his spoon, one of those tiny little plastic ones that came in an assortment of five colours. Teddy eyed him suspiciously but did hand it over, resting his chin on the tops of the forearms he had crossed over the table.

Matty handed it back after taking a large chunk out of his cup and got to watch the way Teddy’s face brightened at the taste. “Like it?” He asked after the boy had licked the spoon clean and then chuckled when he got a hasty nod in reply. “Guess we can share then.”

Teddy seemed to like the idea, even more so once he’d given Matty a spoonful of his own and watched the way his face had screwed up at the horrific flavour.

“Grim.” Matty said around a cough, wanting to rid himself of the taste.

“G’im.” Teddy butchered the mimic, which only made Matty choke on his cough before spluttering into laughter.

“Yeah, mate. Exactly.”

They spent the next half an hour there, Teddy talking to Matty about the train set he’d gotten and then about how he really wanted to drive one when he was older. Which led them to, “What you do, Matty?”

Matty slumped further into his seat at the question and smiled over at the boy, “I’m in a band.”

Adorably, Teddy’s face scrunched up into a confused sort of frown at that, though it was made even sweeter by the array of ice cream he had littering the outside of his gob.

With a faint chuckle, Matty pulled out his phone and went onto YouTube, clicking the first video that popped up after typing in their name. He slid it across the table for Teddy to look at and got to see the way the kid’s eyes widened when he spotted Matty come up on the screen.

Sure, his hair had been bleached to shit and he looked a hell of a lot younger, but it was still him. And Teds could see that.

“You.” Teddy breathed out, blinking down at the phone as TOOTIME started to play.

Matty snorted to himself and was merely thankful for the fact that the shop was loud enough to cover up the sound of his music playing. Because the last thing he wanted was to be spotted by a couple of fans asking for pictures when he was out and alone with Teddy.

“Singin’?”

Matty blinked at the question, having lost himself in his previous thought, but then nodded. “Yeah, and see all those other people?” He mentioned, gesturing to the girl who cropped up next, “They’re like miming, pretending to sing it.” He added after Teddy had given him a puzzled tilt of his head.

Teddy listened to the rest of the song play out after that, pointing to Matty everytime he was seen, as well as bouncing along. He made the decision to press play on the next music video before Matty could stop him, and he gasped when he recognised it.

Which cleared up that question on whether or not Mouse had actually been lying when she had claimed to like his music. He snorted at the thought.

Matty let Teddy listen to it, grinning at the way he sang along to the chorus of Girls.

By the time they managed to escape the shop, having finished their ice cream long before, Teds had gotten to play a majority of their songs and was humming something vaguely recognisable to himself whilst they walked up the highstreet back the way they’d come.

Looking back, Matty could see that he’d been distracted by it all. By the weight of the bags he carried and having to keep a constant hold of Teddy’s hand. Then by the way Teds was jumping along happily and singing up at Matty each chance he got. Too distracted that he didn’t seem to notice the oncomer until it was too late.

“Matty, mate!”

It was a reaction and a half the way his head shot up at the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in years, not too far from snapping his neck clean off in fact.

His eyes darted to the man who had started to stumble his way over to them, the grin on his face clearly hit induced, before Matty’s gaze dropped down towards Teddy, who seemed to step back on instinct and crowd himself behind Matty’s legs.

“Been fucking too long, man! How you been!”

Matty tried not to wince at how brash the bloke was, as well as the way he got too close for comfort so that he could thump him heartily on the shoulder in greeting.

“Yeah, too long.” He muttered, keeping a strong hold on Teddy’s hand and fighting the urge to look down at him, not wanting to draw any real attention to the boy. “Look, mate, I’m a bit busy-” He said and tried to gesture the hand holding the Argos bags out to show exactly that, but his words were trampled all over.

“What the hell you doin’ in these ends then? Thought you were livin’ up on the Heath.”

Matty gritted his teeth. “Moved a bit ago, man.”

“Ah, no shit! Bet it’s as nice as the old place was though, remember the time I fucked that posh girl in your hot tub.”

For fucks sake.

“Look, man, I’ve really got to get going.” Matty attempted once more, and was already pivoting on his feet to try and get past the loudmouth twat. It had been too long since he’d last seen Ziggy and he’d have much preferred to have kept it that way.

“Nah, come on, let’s catch up! I know I skipped out Luke’s funeral and that, but the kid wouldn’t have wanted us lot there at his send off.” Ziggy chuckled, showcasing the chipped front tooth he was widely known for. “Got a couple e’s on me, but you can call up your guy, have a party, yeah?”

In his life, Matty had come close to dying a couple of times. He had fucking overdosed, choked on his own sick, threatened to top himself, and done some incredibly stupid shit that had almost lost him his head. But never had he ever felt a feeling like this. His guts wanted to upend themselves onto the very pavement he stood on, along with all the rest of the blood and the bones his poor excuse for a body was made up of.

“I’m clean.”

Ziggy laughed loudly at his croaked reply, drawing more attention to the three of them than he already had, and Matty didn’t know whether or not he’d crumble then and there, or if he’d just end up punching the fucker.

“Always been a funny kid, I told ‘em that!”

Matty steeled his jaw and forced down the lump of bile that wanted to escape. “I’m clean.” He repeated, stronger this time around, grinding down on his teeth so hard that it felt like they’d shatter in his mouth.

Ziggy stopped laughing then and kissed his teeth, “Another one down.” He shook his head, in actual disappointment, “And to think you were once sound. Just another one of them rich toffs, aintcha?” He scoffed and Matty had to bite his tongue. “Tryna act hard.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

Matty went to walk away then, shuffling Teddy along with him, who was very much clinging to the back of his jeans now. It was that motion which caught Ziggy’s attention.

“Oh shit! Matt, you’ve got a kid!” His loud and brazen cackle rattled through Matty and forced the rest of the goers littering the street to glance their way. “What, you knock up some bird, is that it? Bet she’s rinsin’ you out of all that money you made, ey rockstar?”

It was thoughtless but Matty went for him then, catching the prick by the edge of his cheap jacket and trying not to gag at the stench that fell off him. “You’ve no fucking clue, alright? So take your loud mouth and your fucking e’s, and do one.”

He gave Ziggy a hard shove, desperate to get him away, and then swallowed thickly at the realisation of what he’d just done. But still, Matty held himself strong, picking up the bag he hadn’t realised he’d dropped whilst keeping his eyes fixed on the man. He recaptured Teddy’s hand all too quickly and started to walk away.

In the time it must’ve taken him to do that though, Ziggy had righted himself and dropped the surprise. Matty heard him spit at their retreating backs, missing, but only just, and then he called out, “Yeah, walk on, Healy! But I know your type. You’ll come back, they always fucking do!”

The sound of his laughter echoed down the street and it followed Matty most of their way home.

His body shook with raw tension, jaw clenched so tightly shut that it hurt when he thought about it. But he couldn’t think about it, not then, not with what had just gone down. Not with what Teddy had- God, what Teddy had seen.

Mouse would skin him for this.

That thought alone broke something deep inside of him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Matty?”

The world seemed to stop at the call of his name.

Matty loosened his tight hold on Teddy’s hand and inhaled before he turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” He heard himself say, wishing it had been more than just a cowardly fucking whisper. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Teddy only smiled up at him, it was careful and wary, but fuck it was genuine. And it made Matty want to cry all the same.

How. How had he fucked up this badly.

“It’s ‘kay, Matty.” Teddy tried to soothe him.

And at his words, Matty got down on his knees to run a hand through the boy's hair. “It’s not, and I’m sorry.”

Matty shook his head, hating himself more and more.

But he tried to smile. He had to, for Teddy.

“We ‘kay, Matty.” Teddy murmured, reaching up a hand to touch the bone of Matty’s cheek. Matty wondered how strong his resolve truly was when he just about managed to bite back the sob that threatened to choke him. “We ‘kay. Just a bad man.”

“A bad man.” Matty sniffed, pulling Teddy in close to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. “Yeah, mate. Just a bad man.”

“Can’t tell mama.”

Matty froze at that, his mouth ghosting over the boy’s temple.

Slowly, he pulled away, hand falling to the back of Teddy’s head, cradling it carefully. “It’s okay, Teds. Nothing will happen.”

But Teddy shook his head adamantly, “No, can’t tell! Mama worry.”

Oh.

Matty smiled, it was fucking sorrowful and full of self-pity, but he managed it for this sweet boy. “It’ll be okay, Teds. I swear.”

Though he wondered truly if it would.

“Can’t, Matty. Can’t!” Teddy looked like he was about to start sobbing then and there, his bottom lip wobbling whilst his eyes filled with tears, “Don’t tell!”

“But why, Teddy?”

It was all that Matty could think to ask, to say.

“No upset, for mama, for Matty.”

Christ, Matty had really fucked up this time.

“No tell.” Teddy repeated again, unaware of how his words made Matty’s heart break. “Matty. No tell.”

And then he was sobbing, aimlessly and hopelessly into Matty’s chest.

Matty held him near, rubbing a hand up and down the boy’s back whilst simultaneously wishing he could take everything back. That he could go back to this morning and never leave the flat. Never make that fucking offer.

He just wasn’t cut out for this.

He wasn’t-

Teddy’s fingers clung to the hoodie he wore with a strength that scared Matty a little, chest heaving with his quiet cries. “Okay, Teddy.” Matty murmured brokenly, trying to lull his crying with a soft and stuttered hush, “It’s okay, Teddy. I won’t tell. It’s okay.”

110 notes · View notes

pinkwright · 2 years

Text

need u on my skin like closure, baby | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

pairing — college!shuri x college!y/n

trope — exes 2 friends 2 lovers

inspo — anya mmiri by ckay ft. pinkpantheress

warnings — fingering (reader receiving), dom!shuri, humiliation kink, erm dumbification (listen..), possessive!shuri, protective!shuri, shuri is touchy, kissing, overstimulation, its long my bad, reader is easily embarrassed, tensionnn, shuris mean n condescending but so in love, reader is bratty for like two seconds, jealous!shuri, dacryphilia, dirty talk, degradation but like its like praise coded, praise, reader gets rlly subby (poor baby) but not crazily so like subspace, i think that's it but i honestly don't know.

a/n — i wrote this pretty quickly actually n was initially gonna post for valentines but bc i'm drowning in ideas rn it doesnt rlly matter so, i hope u enjoy it ! girl i won't lie writing this had me a bit breathy LMFAO so if there r any errors that's my bad but u know why. im a miniskirt kinda gal so this is what i imagine reader wearing to the party while this is what i imagine shuri in (4th)— u can obvi imagine what u want.

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @saintwrld

ஜ

confusion, confusion, it's life, and illusion. you’re with me right now, next thing you're gone. but i need you on my skin closure, like closure, baby.

the music blasts through your ears, the steady vibrations stimulating you sufficiently, working well in keeping you from getting distracted from the current art piece you worked on. the world around you seemed muted as the tones of green, brown, and orange danced across your canvas, the oil paint was firm but still allowed room for error, encouraging it even – your favourite medium for that reason.

a slow succession of knocks sound under the thump of your music, the door to your studio opening and closing with two soft clicks, the person not making themselves known to you. though, a smile creeps on your lips – having recognised the knocking pattern, “by now you should know that creeping up on me after you’ve knocked is futile, right?” your hand reaching towards your stereo to lower the piercing volume.

you place your palette on the covered table to your side, the dirty paintbrush following suit as you stand to turn to face her, your arms lift into a stretch then fall to fix the unruly bun of the lace on your head as you finally set your gaze on her. she’s standing in the doorway, her hands buried in the pockets of her baggy black sweatpants, a matching oversized black hoodie sitting on her torso, the accents of dark purple shifting as she lifts her hands into surrender, and there’s mischief dancing in her eyes.

“i will never understand how you do that when i quite literally have the stealth of a panther.”

she’s smiling at you as she speaks, her voice is playful and light as you begin to pack up your belongings, “i don’t know, your majesty. maybe, just maybe, the deadly black panther has met her match.” you’re giggling as you say it, unaware of the inner turmoil you’ve thrown shuri in to.

the air quietens down as you raise your eyes to look at her, your sweep of the room to make sure it’s presentable for your arrival tomorrow complete, and you seem to realise what has transpired, what you insinuated. shuri’s gazing at you with a deep but unreadable expression, one that has you averting your eyes over an awkward chuckle as you walk towards her.

“that, she has.” her voice is deep, and serious, as it slithers up your body, wafting with your intake of breath to settle in the depths of your lungs. her words carry a depth you’re familiar with, or at least, were familiar with, one that spoke of her devotion to you, her love and respect for you, her desires and promises to make you, her queen.

you clear your throat before moving around her tall frame to step out of the small, now tense, space. your heart flutters as she quickly reaches out to open the door for you, her cologne permeating your psyche as it washes over you – jasmine and warm musk on top of cedar and bourbon vanilla, all wrapped within the sensual flamboyancy of roses.

you walk to the elevator and step into the space, the music is soothing as you sigh out and drop your head side to side in a stretch, you had been sat unmoving for a long period of time, “i always tell you to take stretching breaks to ease the strain on your body.” shuri’s voice is teasing but you can hear the firmness floating through the crevices of it. your eyes reach to look up at her, your lips parting on a snarky remark, but the ding of a stop on another floor has you pausing; then there are two things happening simultaneously.

firstly, a group of college boys is stepping into the small space and, secondly, shuri’s reaching both her hands to rest firmly on the skin of either of your shoulders, slightly pressing against you to shift your body away from the rowdy boys, guiding you to face slightly away from them, as she steps forward to press against you, giving the one that was nearest to you a curt but taunting smile, as if she’s daring them to touch you.

the action is so swift and so instinctive that it’s over before you even get to blink twice, but it wakes up your aching body, provoking it into calling out for her. you feel its call in the warmth pulsing through you, the sweep of your stomach, and the racing of your heart. her head dips to where her soft curls skim the skin of your collarbone, her nose barely brushing against the arch of your neck, and your head is tilting slightly for her, your body reacts before your mind can process, clearly yearning for her closeness.

“what were you saying, s’thandwa?”

she breathes the words into your skin, her hands squeezing your shoulders before they’re slipping down your arms and coming to rest on the heated skin of your waist, pulling you into her so her chest presses against the length of your back; and you’re embarrassed. you can feel the rapid glances of the others beside you, though their conversation never ceases, and you know that shuri’s doing this on purpose. she knows that no matter how much you deny it, your body vibrates with the idea of her possessing you like this, owning you where there’s nothing to shield the clench of your thighs from prying eyes; she knows you bask in the humiliation of it.

you shake your head to clear your thoughts, “it’s fine, it wasn’t important.” you almost flinch when you hear how breathy your voice sounds, the heat rising to your face but moving to settle in the pit of your stomach. shuri’s chuckle is taunting as she breathes you in, her head dropping slightly and you can feel her lips curling as she skims a phantom kiss on your sweet skin, and you swear when your head clears, you’re going to kill shuri udaku.

the doors ring open to the ground floor and shuri guides your body out, no longer pressed against you as she takes to wrapping her arm around your shoulder and your head finally clears. “you are such a fucking ass, actually,” her boisterous laugh is cutting you off as she turns to look down at you, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“looking out for you is being an ass, my love?” she teases. your eyes roll as you throw her arm off of you, her laugh only intensifying as she brings her hands to clap obnoxiously. the muscles of your heart seize as you regard her, you love her so much, why’d she have to confuse you like this?

“shut the fuck up, i’ll see you tonight.” you try to look annoyed, but a series of giggles are escaping you as you walk away, your apartment only a block away. you’re adjusting the bag on your shoulder when shuri’s voice rings out in agreement, her laugh quelling as she watches you go, a sigh taking its place as the longing grips her once again.

⤠

you roll your lips to spread your lipgloss and reach to put the tube in the black bag you decided to carry tonight, rocking your hips to the beat of baby boy reverbarating through the walls of your apartment as you deem yourself ready. you spin your back to the mirror, your eyes sliding to gaze over your shoulder as you give yourself a once over, the length of your skirt was daring, provocative, just how you liked it.

the knocking at your door has you grabbing your bag and ruffling out your hair, allowing the bangs to frame your face cheekily because you know shuri likes it when you look a little bit of a mess for her, not that you wanted to look good for her or anything along those lines. the door swings open, your previous smile dropping as you lay your eyes on her, sweeping your gaze down her lithe frame as your glossy lips part, she needed you bad; shuri’s doing the same, her tongue coming out to lick her lips as her dark eyes burn into the skin of your legs, she had always been a leg girl.

your eyes snap up at the clearing of her throat, and she’s smirking at you before leaning into your space, her arms wrapping slowly around your waist, pressing you against her firmly as she brings her lips to your ear, “bast, you’re killing me, baby.”

the words end with a grunt as she slips one of her hands down your hips to play with the hem of your skirt, “this fucking skirt, you’re a little slut for attention, hm.” her voice is soft and cooing like she’s praising you, and her fingers grazing the skin of your thigh paired with the tenderness of her tone coaxes you into accepting the praise.

you let out a low whimper, the heat of your core bringing you to clench your thighs slightly, shuri chuckles condescendingly before pulling away, lifting your hand to her lips to graze your knuckles before she’s pulling you away, guiding you to her car. the ride is a short but electrified one, god what kind of exes slash friends were you?

the party is in full blast by the time you two arrive, music blasting through the house and flowing into both the back and front yards, you could feel the vibrations settle in the marrow of your bones as you make your way inside, still being guided by shuri. she moves through the crowd just like a panther; gracefully, instinctively, moving with the aura of the apex predator she was, she greets people as she enters the kitchen, using the grip on your hand to seat you on an empty barstool before she starts to prepare some drinks for you.

you’re joined by some of your friends, and soon you’re laughing, enjoying the party and the sweet drink shuri had prepared for you, before you feel like dancing. you hold one of your friend’s hands as you go to dance, letting go of the overbearing stress you carried, letting the music caress the heat of your skin. you feel her eyes watching you, feel them heavily sliding down the length of your moving body and it exhilarates you. you open your eyes and just as you meet her gaze, a body presses itself against you, much like she had earlier, and her gaze is darkening.

the intensity of it shocks you but lulls the bratty side of you forward, calling you to make her move, make her claim you again. the thought excites you enough to bring your hand to guide the strangers to rest on the material covering your ribs, your lips twitching in amusement when you see her eyes drop to sneer at the touch.

that’s it, come to me. the vixen in you is cunning, luring her lover to her with tactics she knows shuri will concur to, tactics she knows will break the regal patience of the queen.

but shuri simply raises a manicured brow, her lips lifting into a smirk as she sweeps her eyes over your frame and she’s leaning forward against the marble countertops before tilting her head at you. you know that look, and so does your body, seeing as it instinctively clenches with a fire so deep it licks at the jagged edges of your ribs, sinking into the space between your legs.

she barely lifts her hand, her fingers moving to call you to her and you’re moving without thinking, like a prey to its predator, and you’re soothed by a false sense of security when she allows you to place your hand in hers so she can gently pull you towards her and whisper directly into your ear, “i don’t know who made you think you run shit, s’thandwa, but i know you need me to fix that for you, right?”

the shiver that wrecks through your body is instant and you’re nodding before you can comprehend, your breath hitching when you feel her pull you through the crowd, you were in for it. the lock of the bathroom door barely clicks before one of shuri’s hands grabs both of your wrists to press against the wood while the other pushes your hips against the surface.

there’s a pause, “i need to hear you to tell me you want this baby, that you want me.” her voice is strained like she’s holding back.

“please, please, shuri, i need it, need you, always.”

the whine barely escapes you before she’s letting out a tortured groan and pressing against you, her hand sliding down your hip, roughly pushing the hem of your skirt up, and pressing over the front of your damp underwear. your hips stutter as she presses against your clit, your lips parting as you moan out, hearing her groan into the curve of your neck, her lips pressing heated kisses along the length of it, “barely touched you and you’re this wet for me, baby? my pretty pussy’s crying for me, isn’t she?”

her voice is pulling you into the state only she can pull you into, where your mind is only occupied with her, and it’s hard to think, to breathe, to exist beyond her. her fingers trace slow circles over your underwear, your hips swirling to match the movements, and she’s laughing at you. lifting her lips to slide over your cheekbone and press against your temple as she increases the pace of her fingers.

“my desperate fucking girl. you want to come in these pretty lace panties?”

your hips buck wildly as you gasp, your head spinning as you whimper out her name, over and over again, a series of pleads falling from your lips. the way she’s talking to you with that lilt in her voice like you were just a girl to be scolded, a girl to be humiliated until you learned, learned what being hers meant. she’s speaking words to you, wanting you to gaze into those eyes while she touches what’s hers.

you feel the wave cresting, your stomach clenching as you practically squeal out her name, your hips gyrating frantically in time with her hand, your hands are clenching, your arms still held above your head, wanting to grab something to ground you, wanting to touch her to ground you. she coos at you, murmuring about her, “pretty sweet thing coming so good for her.”

your heart rate doesn’t get the chance to slow as you feel her hand slip into your now-soaked, underwear, your hips bucking violently as she grazes her slender fingers across your sensitive clit, and your eyes are widening as you lift your gaze to find hers already on you, “had enough, angel? i don’t think you have.” her voice is taunting, her eyes holding a fire that burns your insides.

your mouth drops open, your gaze unable to move from hers as she slides her fingers to your entrance circling around the opening as she groans deep in her throat, “bast, you were made for me, my love, made to take me?” her finger slips in slightly as she curls her tongue around ‘take’ and you’re chasing her fingers, she’s being so mean.

you tense as she finally slips her finger into the warmth of your walls, a satisfying moan slips from your mouth as she begins to gently thrust in and out of you, her fingers dragging against you, just the way she knows you love. she’s smirking against your cheek as you unabashedly moan out repeatedly, thumb coming to circle your clit as you shut your eyes. the tears are gathering on your lashes as you’re whimpering out.

“there’s my pretty baby’s tears.” her voice is dark, menacingly dragging out the words. “couldn’t have my pretty pussy crying by herself tonight, hm.” the words render you dumb before her fingers glide firmly against that rough patch inside you and you’re clenching so hard that it drags her fingers deeper into you, your legs trembling, your body solely held up by shuri’s hold on your wrists. and you still long enough for her to mutter out a ‘that’s it, angel.’ before you’re exploding again.

the tears are clinging to your lashes as you see flashes of colour behind your eyelids, your breath coming out in pants as you stutter your hips to the soothing slow of shuri’s lithe fingers, she’s using the hand holding your wrist to lower your arms to rest around her shoulders, her arms then coming to the back of your thighs to gently lift you on to the sink.

you feel her lift your chin, her lips approaching yours before she pauses, “you’re mine, right. my precious love, hm?” her voice is raspy. you nod eagerly, tightening your arms around her neck, whining for that kiss. she smirks as she leans in, placing her lips against your own softly but with a little desperation, the slide of your lips is a back-and-forth pull of your love, a love song duet, a devotion of walking into what will be.

the panther’s sly hands skim up your still quivering thighs fiddling with the band of your underwear, pausing, before she’s ripping them off. the gasp you release into her mouth is sharp but as you go to pull away, she doesn’t let you, her mouth slipping against yours felt like an addiction. both her hands slip along your inner thigh making their way to your dripping cunt.

her lips separate from yours when the tips of her fingers graze your folds and you thrash so wildly, she has to reach a hand to your hip to still you, a grunt slipping passed her mouth at the action, you were so sensitive, it made her feral. her eyes lift to your shut ones as she glides her fingers over your clit, your head frantically shaking, “you don’t want more, my love?”

her voice wisps through the clouds in your mind, “c-cant…please” you force out pathetically on a whimper, her fingers circling your clenching entrance, “i know, baby, i know.” she’s speaking gently to you, lovingly, “but you’re mine, yes? mine to love, mine to make come as i please? isn’t that right, honey?” and you’re nodding frantically.

“then i want you to get off on my thigh like the desperate girl you are, sweetheart.”

her voice is the only thing you can fathom, and it has you craving for more, inviting her into you and it almost makes shuri preen – you’re so open to her, settling into her embrace as if you trusted her more than yourself, it makes her soaking pussy clench tight around nothing, in a way only you could make her. her thigh presses between your legs and your muscles tremble around the strong muscle, her hand slips around your throat, squeezing gently as she guides your eyes to hers, and she gazes at you so deeply, it makes you squirm.

shuri’s watching you struggle against her thigh, her lips lifting into a condescending smirk that forces you to shut your eyes and let out a lengthy, needy whine before she uses her free hand to grip your waist and harshly slide you against her.

“dumb baby needs me to do everything for her?”

the moans you’re sobbing out sharply slice through the air, and you feel filthy, crying out for her while she drags you against her thigh like a desperate slut. you’re hiccupping on your tears as she continues to coo at you, walking you to your demise and you can feel it, your heartbeat pulsing through your desperate clenching walls.

her head is nodding along with yours, your eyes unable to separate from hers, and she’s groaning along to your cries, asking if you want it enough if you’re desperate enough for her. she leans in to press a tender peck to your lips that you can’t reciprocate, “that’s it, my angel, give me that come.”

then your body is convulsing so violently, shuri has to press the length of her body against you to prevent you from slipping off of the sink she has you sat on, her head sinking to your neck to shower you in praises and remind you how good you were for her, how much she loves you, how pretty you are when you cry for her. your tears are hot on your cheeks as you soak her thigh, and you’re heaving as your eyelashes cling to one another, the mascara smeared along your waterline - you looked ruined.

shuri regards you with a tenderness that sends you spiralling, she reaches her hand to brush along your wet cheeks before following the trail with her warm lips, exhaling her love into your skin, reminding you how much her heart belonged to you too. her lips meet yours in a soft press and she sighs as she pulls you against her body to ground herself.

she could feel her heart clench with the force of her love for you, she was never going to let you go again.

how could i forget you? when you build house for my mind? and you no go, go outside and you no go, go. i miss me and you. but all i have is memories of you. but that just wont do tonight.

ஜ

#pinkwrighting ⊹ ۪ ᖭི༏ᖫྀ.#shuri x black!reader #shuri udaku #letitia wright #black panther #shuri x reader #black panther wakanda forever #shuri angst #shuri smut #shuri fluff #shuri imagine #shuri x you

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elfven-blog · 1 year

Note

What if ... Leon was dating a tarot reader? And he always makes jokes like "if she reads this on the cards I'm screwed" And he pretends he doesn't care (but he's actually scared to death when the reader reads the cards to him)

Hi anon! I hope you enjoy!! 💕

The past, the present and the future

Leon Kennedy X Reader Word count:787

You rolled your eyes, shuffling the deck in your hand as you listened to Leon make yet another quip “Should I be worried? Don’t use them to check up on me” His brows were raised but the grin on his face was enough to let you know he was only messing. But the shake of his leg told another story, his knee bouncing up and down as he cracked another joke, this one about the devil card. You only shook your head.

After finishing the deck shuffle, you placed the cards down on the table. In a three-card spread, Leon had finally agreed to have you give him a reading. Something simple he said, no weird questions or anything like that. So, he decided to go with what he knows best. Bioterrorism.

“You ready, honey?” You didn’t want to push him into something he didn’t want to do but it could be a fun little moment, and it’s not like he had to listen to them. It’s not like he really believed what the cards said, and this was perfect practice for you anyway. You were sick of asking yourself questions, it was nice to do a reading for someone else. Leon nodded, you could have sworn you heard the man gulp and watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

As you turned the first card over, the past, you watched Leons brow furrow as he looked at the card. His voice tilted with confusion “A building?” His head leant to the side as he moved his attention back to your face.

“The tower. Upright like this means disaster, broken pride” Leon nodded slowly, he felt his mouth go dry and his mind wondered back to that dark night so many years ago. He could almost feel the rain soaking through his uniform, the bandages sticking to the blood on his skin…the stench of rotting bodies all over again. Your soft voice pulls him out of those thoughts “Hey, its okay, we can stop” your hand is gentle on his as you lean across the table. His moves to cover yours before he presses a kiss to your fingers.

“No no, I’m kind of excited…Wanna see what my future holds according the spooky forces beyond” you can tell the way his voice has lowered and the non-existent spark that’s been wiped from his eyes that he’s a little worried. He wasn’t expecting it to be so accurate. Definitely wasn’t expecting a Raccoon City Incident cameo from the cards.

But with his go ahead you moved on to the ‘present’ card, flipping it over to show the word reversed” This time you tilted your own head, this made sense. Even know after so many years, and with Leon having moved on to start a relationship with you, there was still part of him that felt like some things weren’t resolved. “World reversed, incompletion and no closure”.

Leon felt his body tense, the cards were getting too close for comfort for his liking. He didn’t understand how they could be so accurate. The jokes and quips dying on his tongue as his mind raced. “Well, if this is how its going, I think I’ve got a bleak future” the joke was weak and you could tell he was starting to panic. He shifted in his seat, hands wiping the sweat onto his jeans as he watched you flip the last card over.

“Oh my god, am I gonna die?” You couldn’t help yourself, a short laugh left your mouth and Leon looked at you with wide eyes, his mouth gaping open. You shook your head trying to collect your composure as Leon stared at you in shock.

When you finally stopped laughing and could get more than a few words out you explained to him “No, the card of death doesn’t mean that you’re gonna die. It’s good actually, in the upright position it stands for new beginnings and changes” Your hand squeezed his own, and you leant forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

Leon let a breath of relief, his forehead falling onto your shoulder. His arms moved around your waist, and he hoisted you over the table and settled you into his lap. His face still buried into your neck as he pressed a few kisses to the pulse point there. “I like that one…a new beginning with my sweet tarot partner” You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin “But never do a reading for me again”.

Another laugh left you, your hands running through his hair “Okay, my love, no more readings for the big strong government agent” This time it was your turn to tease him.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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mysteria157 · 8 months

Text

Chapter 4

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~3.8k

CW: Profanity

Summary: When you think you’re a step ahead to keep Nanami out of your way, your world comes crashing down and makes it harder for you to decide to break the news.

Notes: Hi! Thank you all for taking the time to read. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated but not necessary <3 I hope you enjoy reading!

Previous Chapter | Ao3 | Next Chapter

It Had To Be You Masterlist

Divider: @cafekitsune

“Who’s the father?”

The question made you flinch, tears long since stopped running and your face was surely a mess. You couldn’t answer her and couldn’t look at her even though her silver eyes were tearing you down by the second.

“Y/n. Who is the father?”

You kept your watery gaze at your desk, hoping the silence would be enough for her.

She was quiet for longer than what you hoped for, making you antsy and tense until you eventually flicked your gaze up at her. Ome furrowed her eyebrows, her face etching into a look of pure confusion before falling into disbelief, the pieces clicking together.

“Nanami?! I know you’ve always had a boner for the guy, but I’m pretty sure the last time we were in Tokyo, he made every effort to piss you off and your affection pretty much fizzled out.”

You didn’t respond, choosing instead to look down at your hands that sat pathetically in your lap. You shouldn’t have felt so chastised by Ome. But she knew you inside and out; your goals, your values and your personality. So, the surprise was warranted. The small hint of disbelief made all the more sense as well.

“Was it when we went to the izakaya?” You nodded softly; eyes still turned away. “I tried to follow you but Gojo told me Nanami texted and said he took you home. I thought he apologized.”

Oh, he took you home alright. He took you to your hotel and barely made it inside before you both were pulling at each other’s clothes and falling into a drunken and sweaty heap on your bed.

The sudden heat in your cheeks pulled you back to the present, your mind racing with every intricate detail of that night before you shook away the thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

“What happened? Did he…you know…?”

You paled and scoffed harshly.

“No. He may get on my last nerve but Nanami isn’t a monster.”

You went into detail about that night, describing the conversation between you both before stopping when things got entirely too explicit.

“I thought things would be a little better after that but I woke up and he was gone and I got this instead.”

You pulled out your phone, scrolling to a chat that you wished you should have deleted sooner. How Nanami managed to get your number, you’ll never know. The only ones from Tokyo who had your number were Shoko, Gojo, and Yuji. Any one of them could have slipped him the number under the guise of wanted to discuss work related matters. You slid the phone to her, your gut churning as you watched her read the message exchange.

Nanami Kento: Y/n. I apologize for leaving abruptly this morning. We were both incredibly intoxicated and made a decision that shouldn’t have occurred. I should not have kissed you. It was against my better judgement and I apologize for making you uncomfortable. Such a mistake will not happen again.

You did not make me uncomfortable and I understand.

Nanami Kento: Great. Have a safe flight.

“I’ll kill him.”

Ome’s words were laced with poison, permeating the air and making your skin prickle. She let the phone clunk onto your desk, pulling away from you to pace back and forth.

“He could have just told you that in person. Fucking coward, sending it through a text. I’ll beat his ass. Pull out his Scandinavian looking hair and stuff them down his throat.”

The room was thickening with tension, your nerves fraying and your head pounding, and you could feel your throat closing up, the usual anxiety placing its heavy hands on your shoulders as you let out a shaky breath.

“It was just one night. I had gotten over it really.”

You hadn’t.

“But I have an IUD…we used a condom…I was careful, Ome.” Your words cracked at the end, tears swimming in your vision as your emotions fluttered away from you, slipping through your fingers like melted butter. “I was careful…”

She stopped pacing, sensing your unease and coming to kneel in front of you.

“I know you were, honey. But unfortunately shit happens….and the important question right now is, are you going to keep it?”

You shook out a watery sigh, brushing away fat tears as you tried desperately to get yourself under control. The thought of an abortion had crossed your mind briefly, so fleeting that you never really let the idea simmer. Of course, you wanted a little more time in life. You were already twenty-nine but even another year or two would have been great. You could earn more money, get a higher position, find someone to settle down with.

But not everything goes according to plan and maybe this was karma for always trying to be predict how your life was going to go. While you wanted a partner to be there for you…you could do this on your own. You’ve gotten this far with your own hard work and dedication, raising a baby would be more challenging but not impossible.

You had a house that could be a home for even two children—three if you wanted to push it; a nice backyard, a good neighborhood, great schools. It was doable. And you had Ome, who would be more than enough.

“I’m keeping it. I don’t need him to raise a child. But I still need to fucking tell him and I just—” You groaned softly, wiping at your face as your eyes began to sting again. “Jin wants me to come with him to Tokyo next week for a new project that I’ll have a larger role in. I can’t avoid him; he has to know. But I can’t do this by myself Ome.”

“I’ll come with you.” She was steadfast in her response, soft hands rubbing your arms. “Don’t argue with me. You and I both know Jin would let me go with you in a heartbeat. I’m not going to let you do any of this alone.”

“Stop being so nice.” You tried to tease her through your flickering voice, body beginning to shake as your throat tightened even more. You wrung your hands together, skin tingling and beginning to perspire with cold sweat. Your chest gave a painful lurch and you could practically feel your heart beating against your ribcage. “I don’t deserve it.”

She scoffed, placing a hand on your cheek before turning you to face her. Your vision was shaking and suddenly you realized your entire body was trembling with fear.

“You’re not going to the guillotine, you’re pregnant. But you’re also having an anxiety attack, so I need you to breathe.” You followed her instructions, pulling a shaky but long breath into your lungs before exhaling. Eventually the heart palpitations stopped, the trembling reduced to intermittent jolts, and your hands had cooled against your legs. “You know exactly what you deserve, and self-loathing is not it.”

She pulled you onto your feet and went about tidying up the office; she closed the blinds, shut off the computer, gathered your purse and held out your jacket for you. You wordlessly shoved your arms into the sleeves and smiled softly at her as you pulled your purse over your shoulder. You rushed into her arms, burying your face in her shoulder as she rubbed your back soothingly.

“I told you once in middle school that I would protect you, and I will continue to do so. Just me and you, buddy.”

“Thank you.”

She hummed in reply, the motion of her hand on your back relaxing you slowly.

“I haven’t kicked a man’s ass in a long time so I might be a little rusty.”

You shook a wet chuckle into her shirt.

***

Gojo Satoru: Why did I have to find out from Yaga that you’re gonna be in the office tomorrow? Do you not like me? I thought we had something going here.

I honestly wanted to surprise you.

Gojo Satoru: Lies.

Ome is coming.

Gojo Satoru: I forgive you 😘

You were only expected to be in Tokyo for a few days but already your phone was blowing up with messages from Yuji, Shoko, and Gojo. It brought you a small feeling of warmth to be so accepted by people who had only known you a few weeks. You had always kept to yourself growing up. The tiny group of friends that you and Ome did have moved overseas after college and while you maintained contact, it wasn’t the same as seeing each other in person. You were just naturally introverted and were content to go to work, partake in a few hobbies when you had the time, and be a homebody.

So to feel Gojo pull you into a bear hug when you walked into the office that Monday, you savored the feeling of having more people who wanted to be close.

“Where is my lover?”

You couldn’t tell if his persistence with Omelia bordered on delirium or fear of rejection.

“She’s with Yaga and Jin, and she’s definitely not your lover.”

You could have told him that Ome had a boyfriend, but even you weren’t really sure what the status of that was anymore. She spent most of her time complaining about him but not actively trying to leave him. Even after cheating. Regardless, it wasn’t your business to tell and you wouldn’t risk Ome’s privacy and trust. But Gojo was surprisingly nice—even if a little eccentric and chaotic—so Ome couldn’t strangle your neck if you gave him a little nudge.

After all you were pregnant, she wouldn’t be able to strangle you for a least the next ten months anyway.

“Stop trying so hard with her. If there is one thing Ome hates, it’s men who act like they have it all.” He opened his mouth to protest. “Even if you do have it all Gojo, carrying on like an annoying teenager will only earn you a punch in the face from someone like her. Like most women, she naturally hates men. But unlike most women, she will get violent if you don’t calm the fuck down.”

He shuddered; bright blue eyes filled with playful desire. The action made you chuckle softly, your face curling into a grimace.

“My soulmate.”

It was during the first team meeting of the day when Jin announced the new project that would be completed by both Tokyo and Sendai branches and that you would be working as a Co-Lead. Everyone seemed excited about the prospect, especially Yuji. You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm as he asked his father questions, ignoring Megumi’s gentle but annoyed demands to stop talking.

You already knew to expect the glower from Nanami.

You did your best to ignore him, you really did. But just the quick glance in his direction and your eyes caught the subtle hint of disapproval in his eyes. Through the dark tint of his glasses you could see his brown irises oozing discontent. His words from five weeks ago echoed in your head, pounding in your ears and making you feel small and unimportant.

Your ideas were good. They were useful and everyone loved them. You were confident in your abilities.

So, you shot a sharp look back at him, challenging him silently as everyone else talked around you and fell into a lull in the background.

“Reworking a system that has been nothing but efficient makes no sense, wastes resources, and does nothing for no one.”

He was wrong. There was always room for improvement, and you could help make things so much better if he just pulled his head out of his ass and paid attention to you.

“Why do you care so much about my opinion?”

You watched him take a characteristic deep breath, his posture slouching forward slightly as he rested his chin atop one of his large hands, eyes not leaving yours. You refused to give in, narrowing your own at him stubbornly and trying your best to ignore the heat in your gut as he lifted an angry but perfect eyebrow.

No. You were in charge this time. You called the shots and you would be ready to tell him to shut up the moment he tried to voice any disagreement with you.

That night meant nothing in the grand scheme of things when you had a job to do.

Even though his mouth that was currently pressed into a firm line had also kissed, licked, and bitten almost every inch of your skin that night, it meant nothing. Even though his efficiency at the office carried quite well into the bedroom when he made you cum three times, it meant nothing. And even though the voice that normally shot down your suggestions had done nothing but encourage and groan and praise you as you begged for release, it meant fucking nothing.

But it meant something now that you were carrying a product of that night, now that you would have to tell him he was the father of your child.

If you even told him.

No, of fucking course you were going to tell him. How that was going to happen, you had no idea. But until then, you knew he would go above and beyond to keep the project from going your way.

Yaga was initially a little puzzled when you asked that approvals be routed to another director instead of Nanami. It was a ballsy move that had taken your entire stay in Tokyo to finally make the decision to speak to him.

“I mean no disrespect to Nanami-san, his work is fantastic, but I think it’s no deny that he is not the most…supportive to processes outside of scope.” Yaga had simply chuckled, his hard features relaxing slightly as he contemplated your words. “Please do not remove him from the project. I would still like him involved, but in order for this project to actually go live, we need eyes that are going to see all aspects, even if they are different.”

The minute he approved your ask and sent an IM to Nanami to see Yaga in his office, you knew it wouldn’t be long until he would be looking for you. You just needed to get to 5pm, hurry to the airport and settle for a scathing phone call in Sendai where you wouldn’t have to see Nanami’s face.

You thought you were in the clear.

You shouldn’t have been so confident in yourself.

You were furious as you stood in front of your boss and Yaga in his office. Whatever Nanami had told Yaga seemed to be enough to rescind the decision to remove him from the approval process and dissolve the co-lead position as Jin would be more than enough. Yaga had muttered something about the sensitivity of the project, the visibility of higherups that would be involved and Nanami’s ‘years of experience with an eye that can catch things most miss’.

He was still babbling on and on but frankly you didn’t really care anymore. You had been made a fool of and reduced to nothing but an associate from another branch trying and failing to make a difference.

The more crushing blow came from Jin’s lack of defense. Even with his characteristic soft eyes and gentle smile, his face clearly showed he had conceded to Yaga’s words, agreeing with him in ways you didn’t understand. He had mentored you. Shown you everything. Having you co-lead was his idea. He had insisted that the decision to dissolve the position was from the higherups and the higherups alone, Nanami had not suggested it but he definitely insinuated that they would be looking.

But even still…

The sharp pang of betrayal was heavy in your chest, turning painfully like a knife and making your eyes burn. You blinked away the tears before smiling at them both and agreeing with their decision. You didn’t have the energy to argue but you could feel the betrayal melt and morph slowly into raw and unbridled rage.

Nanami fucking Kento.

The stress of finding the appropriate time to tell Nanami about the baby fell at your feet in that moment when you closed the door to Yaga’s office quietly and stormed to Nanami’s office. You didn’t knock, all sense of decorum had evaporated the minute you saw that stupid gold name plate on his door and yanked it open.

He was expecting you. Of course, he was. He was the poster child of apathy as he sat reclined in his red leather chair with one leg crossed over the other, arms folded over his chest that made the fabric of his blue button up shirt stretch tight over muscles you had scraped your nails down weeks ago.

“You’re a piece of shit!” you hissed angrily at him, your fists clenching hard at your sides. “You’re a piece of shit that would rather go about his mundane life, doing the same things over and over because that’s what’s expected of him.” His indifferent stare slowly faded into one irritation, hands minutely clenching his arms. “Clock in at the same time, go about the same mind numbing routine during the day, clock out at the same time. You do the minimum of what is required to make your life easy and admonish anyone else who chooses to do more.”

He didn’t respond at first, his mind spiraling with scathing retorts that he wanted to throw your way. He hated the truth in your words. Or the truth to some degree. The bare minimum was all that was really necessary to get the job done, and he got the job done well. He made good money, got home at a decent time, got to enjoy the things he could in his spare time. Why do any different?

“But you went out of your way to make me look like a fool to Yaga because what?! Because I want to do better? I want to do more and make a difference?!”

“No.”

You bit the inside of your lip, holding back a plethora of curses that you wanted to slew in his direction.

“I went out of my way to make Yaga see reason that he was letting someone who has no idea of how this branch works, try to take the helm.” He stood slowly, walking around his desk before long legs made their way to you. You were shaking with anger to a degree that was making you lightheaded. There was no point in trying to hide your emotions from him. He had crossed a line that had released the shackles of your professionalism around him.

That familiar scent of his cologne slowly drifted up your nose, teasing and seductive, trying its best to make you pliant and submissive. You wouldn’t give in. You wouldn’t. Not this time.

“Your ideas are not bad, y/n. But with this environment, in this kind of office, they will only do more harm than good. To everyone else you are the breath of fresh air that can bring this company to the top of the marketing food chain. But I see right through you. All your suggestions are nothing but a desire for attention.”

The rage flared in your gut, your eyes widening in defiance as you opened your mouth to argue.

“You’re a bright eyed marketing specialist that just wants to be seen, a status climber with no regard for the long term effects of what you want to bring to the table. You’ll do anything to get ahead, even if that means tearing down the company that helped elevate you.”

The sound of your hand making contact with his face should have shocked you. Nanami’s head, that was knocked to the side from your harsh slap, turned back to you, his eyes wide in alarm and cheek blooming red.

You were delirious with rage, shoulders heaving deeply as the smell of hate leeched through your pores. You never would have expected those words to come from his mouth, no matter how serious and stoic he naturally was. You ignored the alarming bells of workplace assault in the back of your mind.

You didn’t care. You didn’t fucking care. He deserved it.

“Well, I’m glad to know how you really feel. That makes this so much fucking easier.” He still hadn’t moved, his eyes beginning to blink away the shock as he gaped down at you. “I’m pregnant.”

You didn’t think he could look more shocked as the words spat from your mouth. You didn’t take pity on him, if anything the expression on his face only fueled your words more.

“I’m keeping it, even though you have no say in the matter. I don’t need your help and frankly I don’t want it. If you want to be involved in the child’s life then I won’t stop you, but I have ten months to be away from you until then.”

You walked to his door, ignoring his silence before you turned to look back at him. “You were right by the way. That night was definitely a mistake. And while I don’t regret the fact that I’m pregnant or that I’ll love it any less, I think I’ll hate the thought that you’re the father for a very long time.”

You didn’t slam the door this time, the anger seemed to evaporate from your body the minute the a/c from the hallway hit your face.

When you finally saw Ome, the look on your face must have been enough for her to piece together what happened. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask for an explanation, didn’t try to tease you to put a smile on your face. She simply helped you into your coat, put your purse over your shoulder and grabbed your hand. Her soft skin was like a tether, grounding you as much as possible to the present and reminding you that you weren’t alone.

You didn’t see Nanami as you said goodbye to Geto and Gojo or when Yuji pulled you into a teary hug, even though he would probably see you in a few weeks. But you were glad Nanami didn’t seek you out, because you didn’t know if the sight of his face would flare the anger inside of you again or make you burst into tears.

This should have been different. It should have been a heartfelt moment; a pregnancy test wrapped in a cute ribbon as you presented it as a surprise to him. It should have been tears of happiness, two people lovingly coming together to celebrate the beginning of new life brewing in your belly.

But as you were slowly and painfully beginning to accept, nothing goes as planned. No matter how hard you worked.

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frozenjokes · 22 days

Text

Penguins

TW: Grian has major depressive disorder and is going through a severe depressive episode. There are allusions to suicidal ideation, thoughts that are not explored in detail, but are present in this fic. No one is physically harmed, no one tries to harm anyone else, and the themes are mostly hopeful.

“Hey,” Scar waved as he ducked inside Grian’s apartment, a wreck as it was, but Grian didn’t care to clean up, “How are you holding up?”

“Hey,” Grian mumbled from his place on the couch, bundled up in six or seven different blankets. He didn’t entirely know how to answer that question, but Scar could probably assume not good since Grian had asked him to come over in the first place. They hadn’t seen each other since returning from the island, nearly a week now, but not from Scar’s lack of trying.. mostly. They probably both could have stood to try and speak to each other more. “I don’t know,” he decided, finally, “Depressed. But that’s normal. Maybe a little more depressed than average.”

“Hm. Want to go to the zoo?”

Grian snorted a short laugh, but shook his head, “I most definitely do not want to go to the zoo.”

“Darn. What about a hug?”

“I could use a hug.”

Grian tried to sit up, though he struggled within the confines of his self imposed prison, Scar helping him upright with a small chuckle and wrapping him in a hug given unconditionally to anyone that might need it. Grian closed his eyes. It didn’t have to matter that things were rocky between them, not right now. It didn’t have to matter because it didn’t matter to Scar, he would drop anything in an instant for anyone, but..

Grian wanted it to matter. He needed it to matter because he was so tired of this mattering, he didn’t want his world to be in so many pieces anymore, worsened by him and Scar continuing the stomp on the glass. He was too broken to go on like this.

“I don’t like the way things are between us right now.” Grian felt Scar tense around him, but pushed on through a choked up windpipe, “I was really confused about you. I like you, I like you so much, and I haven’t been able to stop, nor do I really want to. I know you feel.. it’s not that you don’t feel the same, you just feel those things differently, and I thought I knew what ‘differently’ meant, but I’ve realized I don’t really know anything at all. And I want to. I want to know.”

Scar was quiet for a long moment, the tension not leaving his arms, “I don’t know if I’m understanding. Could you be clearer?” The meek way he spoke was dizzying, and Grian was relieved he had someone to carry him.

“I want to know how you’d feel about dating. Don’t spare my feelings. Please. Just tell me how it is for you.”

“Okay,” Scar breathed, wavering, like the idea seized his heart just as completely as Grian was paralyzed under its weight. “I don’t mind it, dating. I like it, I do like it, but with you I’m afraid it might be just as stressful as whatever’s happening between us right now. Still, I don’t want to stop doing what we’re doing now. I know it’s bad for me. It’s bad for you. But I like you. I really like you, even when I’m angry at you. Even when it’s bad for me.”

“I don’t think I can carry on doing what we’re doing right now. I’m seriously.. I’m not in good shape, Scar. I’m really not in good shape. And it’s not just about you. It’s not even about Mumbo, my hand. Those things are there, piling up on the massive amount of- bullshit is the word I want to use, but that implies an emotional attachment I feel like I’ve lost the ability to feel. I’m exhausted. The weight of all my issues are latched to my ankles and the only way I can keep going is to just drag myself across the sidewalk by my fingernails. Who knows if I’ll make rent this month. I can’t afford not to care, but I’m too drained to get out of bed before 1:00. I haven’t left the house all week. I don’t-“ Grian’s voice cracked and he needed to stop talking.

Scar considered him for a long while. “I’m not so sure this is about dating.”

Grian didn’t know what to say. The words left him anyway. “I just want it to stop.” Scar stilled. Maybe he didn’t know what that meant, and Grian didn’t either.

“Let me help you with your rent this month, G. When is it due?”

Grian shook his head, he meant to do so violently, but instead he only jerked weakly into Scar’s shoulder, wretched when he spoke. “I already owe Jim money. I can’t- I can’t.” Scar didn’t know Jimmy, but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Are you still unemployed?”

“I don’t- Yes, but..”

“Then let me offer you a job. I’ll find a place for you, temporary or permanent if you like. Pearl and Impulse already love you, and everyone loves Pearl and Impy, the whole staff will take a shine to you, I promise. Hm. We don’t really have many fish besides the ones we feed the animals. Do you like penguins Grian? Oh you’d love the penguins, they’re like land fish if you squint and also don’t look at them at all. We have an underground area where you can see them swimming and hanging out and such, have you been down there before? Training can start tomorrow, we’ll log your hours in the meantime while I get you in the system.”

Grian didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to. There were about a thousand reasons he didn’t want to, but about a thousand more he couldn’t stand to fight this. Too tired. He was much, much too tired. So he didn’t say anything. Maybe that caused some concern in Scar.

“Why don’t we pack you a night bag? Something with a change of clothes for tomorrow that you can bring to my place, then in the morning we can drive together! We could have a classic sleepover, build pillow forts and read scary stories under the blankets. I could invite Bdubs! Cleo? I guess you don’t know either of them too well.. Pearl and Impulse? Any of your friends? I don’t have to know them, we could have a whole meet up!”

Grian wanted to cut in but couldn’t when Scar just kept talking, he wouldn’t stop, and Grian had to wait for him to burn himself out before he could say his peace.

“No. I can’t do that. I don’t want to see anyone. I can’t explain my hand and I can’t come up with an excuse. I don’t.. I can’t stay with you either.”

“Separate rooms, Grian, separate rooms,” Scar’s voice was yearning, the kind of energy that sucked the life right out of Grian’s lungs. It was that, the energy. Too much energy when he just wanted to be alone. Why had he called Scar again?

“No. I don’t want to stay with you.”

“Then I’ll stay here. I keep an extra uniform in the office, so it’s not super ideal, but I’ll just change at the zoo. We’ll keep it quiet, watch a movie if you want to, I’ll make you a nice dinner and we can eat together, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian was wretched, the closest he’d come to crying after he thought he’d never have the energy to sob again, not that exhaustion the convulsions of his lungs and heart at the tattered breaths he couldn’t quite take completely, “I don’t want you here.”

He hadn’t meant the words harshly, only coming blunt with the absence of brainpower to reorganize them into something more civil, but Scar didn’t look necessarily like he took it personally. He just looked worried, concern continuing to crease the line of his brow at every passing moment.

“Someone else then, someone close to you. Someone who could stay the night, I could call them for you if you needed me to. Etho.. Etho mentioned you were saying some pretty bad things before we all got off the boat, I must’ve missed it with the trance thing but- I mean- I just don’t want you to be alone tonight, that’s all.”

And Grian understood. He understood maybe too late what Scar was worried about, mind too slow to call to mind the kind of dangerous trains of thought abysmally depressed people got up to in the quiet. He snorted, near silent, though the feeling was indignant. As if he had the energy. Grian closed his eyes, though this didn’t relieve the pervasive dry ache under his lids. When had this gotten so bad? What had he done wrong? It was better to think he’d done something wrong than to know he simply was wrong, that he could take his pills and meet his therapists and still it would not change the fact he walked his life on shifting sand, too petrified of falling to notice he’d already been sinking for months. And now, head below the grain, he finally noticed he couldn’t breathe, and the life-giving light of the sun could not reach him here, smothered below the surface. Funny, how it sneaks up on you like that. She’s a clever beast, depression.

“Stay, then,” Grian croaked, answering to the accusation that Scar had not spoken aloud, “If you need to, then stay.” He wriggled slightly in Scar’s arm’s which was enough to get him to release, Grian settling back into position on the couch. The all consuming need to be held had turned to some sick aversion, his misery of isolation flipping ruthlessly to misery he wouldn’t be left alone. Scar was left to sit beside him, though there was not enough room to fit comfortably with Grian laying across the whole couch. Scar looked away. Grian saw him fiddle with his hands.

“I hope you’re not upset with me. I’d be just as happy to leave if you’d rather someone else stay, or I could drive you someplace to stay with them.”

Grian shook his head. “It’s a shitshow.”

“What?”

“Me, sometimes. Most of the time.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so!”

Grian snorted. “You don’t know.”

Scar was quiet for a long moment, green eyes dull in the low light, boring into the mangy carpet below. He looked up, meeting Grian’s much darker eyes with an emotion so intense that Grian’s own mind waned at the smallest attempt of feeling it. “I would like to.”

And maybe Grian believed him. It was a striking thing to believe him, when Grian often did not in the case of other friends and family repeating that same sentiment, no matter how genuine their intention. He struggled to believe them because he was depressed, that much was true, but his knowing these doubts were not rational did not stop Grian from having them.

They, most people that is, did not know the mess behind his eyes. The tar that coated the filing cabinets in his mind, his legs, his hands, until every movement was an inconvenience, every inconvenience a spark, every spark striking the dry tinder of his bitterness, building the ever growing flame of disorganized anger and frustration and erratic neuroticism that made him a deeply unpleasant person to exist around, and much worse to love. But Scar had seen it. Scar had seen it already, the ugly, obnoxious, hateful thing Grian was, impulsive and brash and mean, Scar had seen it, he’d been seeing it for months, stretching out his own hand, clawed and spiteful and equally vile, and he’d set a dance for the two of them, spinning and swinging and snapping and screeching until the both of their feet were raw, legs shaky, hearts broken, but more than broken, exhausted. Scar had seen Grian. Scar knew him, and it did not scare him, nor did Scar’s cruelties bother Grian. So Grian believed him, and while he was not pleased, he was resigned to how this night was going to go.

“Then.. I guess that’s fine with me.”

***

It was not glamorous, as all things with depression typically go.

The world blurred by whether he was inside or out, with people or not, resting or active, asleep or awake. The kind of sickness that did not ease regardless of the time spent on his phone, with his friends, in therapy, trying different medications.. all of those things felt a little like standing at the shoreline, the waves waxing and waning past your ankles, a feeling at the periferie of your mind. The same thing could be helpful one moment, the relief of cool water over your toes, then abysmally frustrating the next, happiness retreating back into the ocean, seemingly never to be seen again. Grian didn’t seem to be able to control these feelings either, whether an activity was good or bad was a surprise to him as much as it was to everyone else, and often flipped on a dime, usually for the worse. The arbitrary nature in it of itself was a cause of extreme frustration. (Grian thought he’d learned to accept this part of his chronic depression, but as with most things he had declared to accept for what they were, he was wrong.)

But some things did make it better, even if Grian was physically incapable of feeling much more than stress. Items which were going well for him he simply found reasons for them to be stressful, but in hindsight, he simply lacked the ability to see small miracles for what they were.

The zoo, as much as he loathed it most days, was good. Having a job, a reason to coax himself out of the house, that was good. Having money. Not a lot of money, barely enough, but enough to make rent. To pay Jimmy back. To chip in for gas occasionally, when his various friends would let him.

Grian did not have the energy to work a 40 hour week, he struggled even to work a feasible part time job, but Scar was so massively accommodating it hurt. Grian worked about four days a week, three or four hours a day, with some flexibility. There was just as much relief as there was misery in how clear it was that Scar did not need him at the zoo, but he tried to ignore it, compensating by doing the menial and/or tedious tasks most of the other staff would rather shell off to interns, which, by all accounts, Grian filled the role. He was not qualified or allowed to be in close contact with most of the animals, which didn’t bother him at all, and he was often shuffled off between Impulse and Pearl for various chores and housekeeping. He drove himself some days, but found himself to be too dangerous to trust on the road with others, and got some help from Jimmy and/or Joel with rides, as well as Scar and occasionally Pearl or Impulse if one of them happened to be heading out around the same time Grian was. It was odd and stressful relying on so many people like this, but affirmations helped, and the fact that Joel and Lizzie had flexible schedules due to their work as content creators helped even more. Grian still felt bad, but as Jimmy so aptly put one day, ‘You feel bad about everything, those are fake feelings, and you better tell those imposters to shove it before I climb in through your ears and give ‘em a piece of my mind.’ It didn’t stop Grian from feeling bad, but the looming threat of Jimmy sticking his fingers in Grian’s ears was enough to quell him most days.

Grian didn’t actually see Scar very much during the day. He seemed to disappear into thin air, only to be seen out of the corner of his eye in odd places like a Loch Ness monster level myth. Some days Grian missed him, longing for the company of someone sickeningly positive, who held enough energy to knock him clean off his feet. A lot of days Grian was glad for it, bitter and angry that he was here instead of home, that this wasn’t helping, that he was worse off as a zookeeper errand boy than napping at home. He was suspicious of Scar, feelings not his own but prevalent nonetheless, that Scar thought of himself as some kind of savior, that putting Grian to work was some kind of holy act, when in reality he was only drawing out Grian’s suffering.

But Scar was right about one thing, and this was something Grian could not deny or resent him for; it didn’t even trigger his benign paranoia.

Grian liked the penguins.

He wouldn’t say he avoided them week one, because while that would have been petty and extremely in character for him, his brain was too scrambled to even think about it. He’d forgotten Scar had even mentioned penguins until he ended up next to the building at the end of his work day mid-week two. It was hot, he was exhausted, but he was waiting on a ride, and while he would have sat outside regardless of his discomfort, the penguins were right there, and it had to be cool in there, right?

It was indeed, but not uncomfortably so. It was dark, and at 2:00 o’ clock on a weekday, the building was closer to empty than anything. It was quiet. Grian found himself wandering the building like a ghost, glancing at the various exhibits, then relieved to see the penguins had a large area to sit.

So he did. And he watched.

They were very cute. They were clumsy and uncoordinated, running into each other and falling over, and while they weren’t overly active, there were so many that there was always something to look at, or at least the threat of something about to happen, a penguin eying the water or another penguin squirming, settling. Grian found them easy to anthropomorphize, but just as the seeds of human-esc penguin drama were forming in his head, he got the call from Joel. Grian was not so enamored as to be disappointed he had to go, but with time that would change.

Grian could not tell them apart, but he did give them names. These names were assigned to whichever penguin he decided fit the role day by day; Turbo had a very high opinion of herself, always swimming and exiting the water with little care for whoever was in her way, Brittany and Sox were always together, huge gossips, just as obnoxious, Mayonnaise was the cool, mysterious type, he kept to himself, but the others were drawn to him regardless, and Max was a bit strange, but she had her friends, and they all got on well together. There were cliques too; Kickflip, Popcorn, and Baxter were always together, talking shit and ruling the ice under an iron wing, though most of the other penguins found them quite annoying, humoring them just enough to get them to leave the rest of the penguins alone. Poppy, Trippy, Slipknot, and Munch were living in their own world, no one else in their penguin habitar able to get them down except each other; there was a lot of relationship drama, everyone in that flock was a total mess.

In the middle of night, week five, Grian was struck wide awake by the desire to go see his penguins. The kind of thought that left you staring at the ceiling, gaping near drooling, shocked into stillness at the simple sentiment of wanting something. Grian hadn’t wanted anything other than to go home, sleep, and/or waste away for over a month, and he hadn’t anticipated that changing any time soon when getting out of bed was just as bleak and miserable as it was before. He nearly called Scar. He had to go see the penguins. Then the other apathetic 95% of him set in, along with the logical recognition that it was 2:30 AM, Scar was asleep, the penguins were asleep, he should be asleep, and also he didn’t want to do any of that shit anyway.

He did not go back to sleep.

Grian did not go to the zoo the next day either, mostly because he wasn’t working, which would have been entirely enough on a normal day; case closed, he didn’t have work so he wasn’t going to go to work, thank god, right?

This was the oddest part of depression; to see a spark of light and instinctively cover his eyes, to bury deeper under the sand, to smother himself when he forgot what it was like to breathe, because learning to do so again was more terrifying than continuing to waste. He was used to coaxing himself forward and hating every step. He wasn’t ready for it to be easier, mentally easier, but still so impossibly hard.

This was the worst part. Where he was no longer a miserable mind trapped in a dead body, but the same mind given the power to move, to act. Who might he hurt in the path of his own destruction? A mother? Student? Someone with potential, promise? Selfish, selfish. He considered hospitalization for the first time, if only for the benefit of the world rather than himself. Jimmy had suggested it weeks prior, but Grian had dismissed the thought, too exhausted to even consider checking his sorry ass into the hospital. But even now, all it would do was keep him safe, then he’d burn through his non-existent savings for the sole purpose of not dying, and what was the point of that? Hospitalization would not help him. It would not fix him, just like pills and therapy and going outside would not fix him. Even if it kept Grian’s condition from worsening it would not be worth it, and honestly, given the state of some hospitals, the dreary, hopeless misery that permeated the halls, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility he’d leave worse than he came in. And who gave a fuck if he got worse? He would never be better, never, he would never be better, he would grapple with this monster his entire life, and was it really- seriously, was it really worth it?

“Hey, Grian, what’s up?”

Grian hadn’t remembered dialing Jimmy’s number. He didn’t even remember picking up his phone.

“Grian?”

“Can you take my keys?”

“What?”

“My car keys. Can you take them?”

Jimmy knew what it meant. He knew. “I’ll be over as soon as I can, I’m leaving now. Ten minutes, probably? How about we stay on the phone.”

Grian agreed, quietly. He did not have much of a choice, but he would not have hung up even if Jimmy had never suggested he stay. He was afraid. Afraid of getting better, spurred into wretchedness by glimpsing a spark of light in the all encompassing, sticky darkness. Pathetic, utterly.

***

He took Jimmy to see the penguins. He took Joel, then Joel again but this time with Lizzie, he made Pearl come see them and Impulse too, despite the fact they’d both seen the penguins hundreds of times. He wished he could take Mumbo. It was the first time he’d thought of Mumbo in weeks, months maybe. Time passed oddly.

The stories Grian had weaved about his penguins had become intricate sagas, no longer kept secret, shared with anyone who would listen to him ramble on and on. He started to recognize them in earnest, no longer guessing when assigning them their names, and every single penguin had a name now, they were all part of his story, vast and important.

Grian did not take Scar. Not out of malice or anything adjacent, Grian just rarely saw him during the work day, even when he started to work more hours. When Grian did see Scar, he was usually busy, caught up with wrestling bears or entertaining crowds or whatever else it was that he did. Scar was a little intimidating to approach during the day, and while Grian saw him after work plenty often (usually against his will, but Scar was the pushy type), he felt a little silly asking Scar to go back to the zoo with him, despite knowing Scar would be delighted to do so.

But eventually, when the penguin house was quiet and Grian was alone, Scar found him. If Grian was being honest with himself, he’d expected Scar to ruin the mood, loud and brash as he was, but Scar seemed to understand the atmosphere he’d established, silent as he walked up behind Grian, then sidled around the bench, sitting beside him. Grian was startled to see him, guilt prickling at the edges of his mind, but Scar’s smile was kind, the soft light of the exhibit catching his face flatteringly.

“I keep hearing about these penguins second hand!” he said, the exclamation persevered in a whisper, “I feel like I’ve been trying to catch you here for weeks, you just slip away!”

“I don’t visit unpredictably,” Grian snorted, amusing himself with the thought of banter, “At the end of my shift, every day. Don’t you make my schedule?”

“Just because a man writes your hours does not mean he goes and memorizes it! Pearl and Impulse do more work ordering you around than I do anyway, they have far more to say about when you come in.”

“I don’t see how this stops you from checking my schedule and finding out exactly when I’m here.”

“You think I have time for that?”

“If you have time to look for me with the penguins, yes, I do think you have time.”

Scar inclined his head back, nodding thoughtfully. “Yes, I guess that’s true. If you hate fun.”

“Irrelevant.” Grian pointed an accusatory finger, poorly hiding his own smirk, “This isn’t about fun, I might even argue this isn’t about wasting time either, I think you’re just lazy.”

“What are you, a lawyer?”

“But laziness doesn’t quite fit, does it. It would save you time to check my schedule, and ultimately it would save you trips to the penguins as well, checking to see if I’m here. Laziness might be a factor; you’d rather check the penguins than glance at my schedule, but I think something else is going on here..”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I think..” Grian drew out the words, Scar leaning forward on his hands.

“Come on, G! I’m on the edge of my seat here!”

“I think you like penguins!” Grian stabbed his pointer finger into Scar’s chest, the other yelping in sharp surprise and throwing his hands up in defense.

“Well if that’s the case, I’d say you’re probably right! I do like penguins. I can’t say I like them as much as you do though, there are certain areas of animal enjoyment of which I can not compete. You, sir, are the penguin king.”

“Not true.” Grian corrected him, having some success keeping his straight face, “The penguins do not have a monarchy, they don’t even have leaders, no matter what The Iron Wings have to say about it. You can humor them, but it won’t stop you from getting pushed around, no sir.”

Scar sat back, arms crossed and relaxed. “Please, tell me more.”

“Those three,” Grian pointed to one corner of the enclosure, where three of the larger penguins were congregated, huddled together, “Kickflip. Popcorn. Baxter. Those are the guys you gotta look out for, they’d like very much to disrupt the peace of the metropolis. Establish an oligarchy, take control. Secretly, they’re all in a relationship together, but they can’t let word get out, because penguin polyamory isn’t a socially accepted form of love yet. It was a long road of acceptance to get to the point where they could all confess their feelings to each other, a lot of ups and downs and sick jealousy, but they’ve made it, and they’re happier than they’ve ever been. The politics are really important to those guys, so this is a really big deal to them, but they’ve kinda failed to realize no one else gives a fuck. Don’t tell them that though, they’d throw a real stink about it. More than anything, the three of them just want to be taken seriously. Unfortunately they’ve gone about it by being assholes. Everyone finds them really annoying, but saying so just leads to more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I see, I see,” Scar nodded, like the matter was one of grave importance, “What about the people? What part do they play in penguin society?”

“Oh, people? I don’t care about the people.”

“I would think they play a pivotal role in penguin life given they’re always watching. Feeding them, caring for them, you know.”

“Well sure, but who cares about people when you can think about the penguins. I’m here for the penguins. They like people because people feed them, but in the end, people are irrelevant. This is about each other.”

Scar chuckled, “If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

Scar sighed, a content kind of sound, one that lead nicely back to the comfy quiet of the penguin exhibit, dark and cool and safe. They watched in silence together, only broken occasionally by Scar asking a question, or Grian pointing out a certain behavior that contributed to the plot of his penguin soap opera. It was nice, surprisingly lower energy than the regaling of the penguin characters typically were to Grian’s other friends, but maybe that’s because Scar found him first, Scar was asking the questions, and there was no rush to keep his attention. A good thing, decidedly. Very good.

“How’ve you been feeling lately?” was a question that seemed to come out of nowhere, a question Grian liked much less. Maybe Scar noticed, because he followed up quickly, “You look well. Every time I see you I feel like you look a little better, and maybe it's not true- it doesn’t have to be true of course, I’ve just been glad for you.”

“I’m fine.” Grian answered a little more tersely than he’d meant to, but he didn’t correct himself. Scar’s face fell.

“You’re not well?”

Grian shrugged, struggling not to be frustrated. “I’m fine. Not good. Not bad. Just fine. Probably starting to level out to the normal feeling of mildly shitty all the time. Planned a small fishing thing with Gem, we’re going to be out all day Sunday. I’m looking forward to it. That’s a novelty.”

“Goodness,” Scar hissed, his frustration firing up Grian’s own anger, bristling until Scar continued on, “All the time? You feel shitty all the time? How many drugs are you on where you still feel shitty all the time, come on. Who’s your doctor? What are they doing, kicking their feet?”

Grian snorted despite himself. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you.”

“I do! This is crazy, isn’t it? How long has it been, nearly three months now? All that time of you being so sick, and nothing being done about it. That’s stupid!”

“That’s depression.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” Grian drew in a long breath, releasing it without joy, “It’s pretty dumb. Psychiatrists don’t even know why the simplest drugs help some people and not others. It’s a mess. I try something for a few days, it doesn’t work, I try something else, suddenly I want to die more than I did before, they take me off that, put me on something else. Who knows if what I’m on now is even helping, or if that’s just time. Sometimes that’s how it feels. I have a mental health crisis, everyone in my life starts buzzing around like frightened bees, trying everything, only for time to be what brings me back to the surface. It’s not consistent either, no ‘Just hold on for three months and you’ll be good,’ it's just.. waiting. That’s depression. Why does it pass? Why does it happen in the first place? Who knows.”

“That- That feels- That is so dumb.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, dude.”

“I know,” Scar threw his hands over his eyes with a short hiss, like the failures of neuroscience and psychiatry had wronged him personally, “I’m sorry. All of this just.. I want things to be okay for you. I want you to stick around. I like when you’re around.”

Grian shrugged, unsure what he meant by the gesture even as he made it. “I guess I’m glad to hear it. I’m doing my best.”

“I appreciate that. I appreciate you.”

Grian snorted a small laugh, unsure how else to react. “You appreciate my valiant effort to not kill myself?”

“I- Yes!” Scar piped up, defensive in his confusion, or maybe alarmed by Grian’s bluntness, “And I don’t think that’s a terribly weird thing to say, either! I do appreciate you! I think you’ve been doing a very good job of it too!”

Grian laughed in earnest, shaking his head and speaking sarcastically, “I guess I have.”

“You have!” Scar lunged forward to grab Grian’s hands, both of them equally, like there wasn’t a thing wrong, like there was no part of Grian that Scar would prefer not to touch. The movement snapped Grian out of his dismal, left helplessly to stare into Scar’s wide eyes, colored blue in the low light of the penguin exhibit. “You have. And I’m glad you’re here. I’m really glad you’re here.”

Grian didn’t know what to do. What to say. Like a rubber band stretched too thin, something snapped at the back of his mind and he broke into a fit of sobs, collapsing into Scar’s arms. Ending just how he started, but not ending permanently.

It wasn’t nice, sobbing was never a nice feeling, but it didn’t have to be nice. Depression was not nice, but love could fight just as dirty, couldn’t it, catching and holding you and forcing you to see it clearly, look it in the eyes and understand that even packaged with the grime, your friends would miss you if you went away. They loved you and they were proud of you and they knew it wasn’t fair, but they saw that you kept going, even when it was hard, even when you were so afraid.

It wasn’t over. Grian was still so fragile, he knew little of how to navigate the world he’d been absent from for so long, but god, he was going to keep trying.

The penguins paid the two of them no mind. They were caught up in their own affairs.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #hermitfic #grian #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #honestly a lot of guys show up in this fic but not enough to tag them #desert duo #hermitshipping #scarian #mumbomaid au #tw: sui ideation #tw: suicidal ideation #tw: depressive thoughts #tw: depression

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juyomiao · 1 year

Text

Only ONE - sung hanbin x gn!reader

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14 ☆ extramarital relationship

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chapter warnings: hanbin is a bit of a shit bf ngl but its okay bc everything gets resolved 🥰 ; written part was proofread but i have the brain capacity of a peanut so ; 1 psych ward joke

written part under the cut (499 words)

you push the classroom door open. as if your mood being shit wasn't enough, the whole situation has given you a headache that's killing you, leaving you with little to no energy to go on with your day.

your eyes scan the nearly empty room, any hope of seeing hanbin quickly dying down. only woobin and yeji are here, you have no idea where beomgyu is and, honestly, you couldn't care less. the least you spend time in the same room as him, the least likely you are to commit a heinous crime that could get you a life sentence.

"where's hanbin?" you ask, turning to yeji. she hesitates for a second, handing you a paper with a sigh "this was already here when we arrived." you blink, confused, not even bothering to read the content of the letter. "he's officially resigning," woobin adds, as if it wasn't clear enough.

you shake your head, surely you heard that wrong, right? "come again?"

the door is pushed open, and then slammed closed again. "you heard them, hanbin resigned," beomgyu joins in the conversation, an insufferable smile plastered on his face.

"here we go," woobin sighs, expecting you to fight back. for some reason, that's enough to deter you from doing it, you already have a shit ton of issues - some bigger than you, than this student council and this school - adding to them won't do any good.

you finally lower your eyes to the paper, reading in disbelief its content. it is indeed a resignation letter, and it is indeed hanbin's resignation letter. you feel your hands starting to shake, "this is pretty much a confession, no?" beomgyu says, snatching the letter from you "should keep this safe, after all it's one of the few credible proofs we have," he gave you a fake pityful look "as if a picture and several texts where he admits to doing it were not enough."

you still can't process this. you are ninety- no, a hundred percent sure hanbin is innocent and is covering for someone else, but how could you prove it when his confession is right there, written on paper, ready to be used to expose hanbin's wrongdoings? you don't even know who he could be covering for

"y/n," yeji places a hand on your arm "i get this is a lot for you to take in, but we can't deny the obvious."

"yes we can," you say, ripping the letter from beomgyu's hands and folding it to put it in your backpack, earning several complaints by both him - loudly, because he can't shut up to save his life - and a few quiet ones from woobin, who is clearly fed up with the countless arguments the both of you have been causing.

"i refuse to let whoever framed hanbin get away with it, and i refuse to let him be a passive little bitch who accepts whatever the universe throws at him and just… lets it happen!"

☆ note: IGNORE THE TIMESTAMPS they r all over the place bc i wrote this through the span of like 3 days ,, written part is absolute asscheeks bc i had to rewrite it all in lowercase n present tense (i wrote it before chapter 9's written part even existed) n somehow add woobin bc he wasn't supposed to be there at first (n then i became a luvity with a need to make everything abt cravity)

☆ SYNOPSIS: sung hanbin is everyone's dream guy: perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect personality, he has it all. he's even class AND student council president! everyone loves him, and you, as his vice-president, are no exception to that. having been in love with him since you were 12, you try to tone down your feelings "for the sake of professionalism" and claim it's simple admiration for someone who objectively has no flaws. but there is one small detail you missed, in all these years admiring him: he has an even bigger crush on you.

☆ TAGLIST: (italics = couldn't tag) @hananovi @soobeaniee @idkwatodoanymore @huipinkhair @homohoons @sunnyglower @lethalvenus @sunoksunny @tocupid @deafeningtyrantmilkshake @winteringdream @ikeryn @ilovechanhee @thesiriusmap @hee-lanat @baekstans @blaycke @vernonfernandez @8turning @yeolsbestie @asteroidchenle @hvnyujiq @hikyeom @r4innoms @enhypen-scholarship @sulkygyu @meowrinz @rikimylove @ridinhyuck @lumixen @neohyxn @ceanairy @beomibeom @cherriegyu @sunwcloud @k4hzuhas @annoyingbitch83 @stickersim @dreamyyn @anawesomeaquatic @softforjungwoo @utopiakys @247hrs @sunswoonie @minhui896 @chanhee-hee @nxurxn @peachysohn @kpoprhia @haesunflower

#☆ li writes #☆only one☆#boys planet x reader #boys planet scenarios #boys planet smau #boys planet fic #boys planet social media au #boys planet fluff #zb1 smau #zb1 fluff #zb1 scenarios #zb1 x reader #zb1 #zerobaseone #boys planet #sung hanbin

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frudoo · 3 months

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Birthmark Pt. 3

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Warnings: Kyle is subtly manipulative. Mentions of paranoia, food consumption, emetophobia. Poor reader is going through it.

“Everything alrigh’, doll?”

Kyle’s eyebrows are furrowed, worry written all over his features as you back away from him on the bed. When you look down, you realize you’re still wearing the same clothes that you had on last night, and tears of confusion well up in your eyes. He reaches his hand out to place it on your shoulder but quickly jerks it away when you flinch and nearly throw yourself off of the bed in the process.

“No… y-you…” You stutter, shaking your head violently.

“Y’were in pretty bad shape when y’came ‘round last night. Made you some tea and you nearly fell asleep in my lap, so I brought you up ‘ere,” Kyle sighs sympathetically, wanting nothing more than to hold you close and comfort you, but ultimately respecting your space. “Got you all settled in, but you woke up shaken and asked me to lay with you.”

Your memory is fuzzy. You remember it raining when you showed up to his house with a bag in hand, and you remember crying to him on the couch, but that’s the extent of it aside from the nightmare. A whimper escapes your throat at the mere thought of it. It felt so real, but surely… surely, Kyle wouldn’t do such a heinous thing. He couldn’t.

“Are y’with me?” Kyle snaps you back into the present, the sleep-coated rasp that previously riddled his voice now fading into something smoother, thick like tarry molasses. “You never did tell me wha’ it was about.”

“It was… it was nothing,” you frown, hugging your arms around your body in an attempt to soothe the anxiety coursing through you. “Can’t really remember.”

Kyle chews on his bottom lip before offering his hand to you once more. When you don’t pull away this time, he gently coaxes you back into his side, and you reluctantly rest your head on his shoulder. He’s kind and considerate, not a mean bone in his warm, perfectly sculpted body. Maybe you are just paranoid—after all, you’ve been through something unthinkable. The brain is known to create horrible ideas using the cruel hand its host has been dealt.

“Poor girl,” he whispers, rubbing your arm gently. “MacTavish really did a number on you, huh?”

You sniffle in response, tensing up at the mention of your husband, the reminder that you still bear his last name. It’s morning now, and he’s most definitely wondering where you are, probably tearing apart the entire house in a panic with tears in his wide blue eyes. Despite what he did to you, despite his betrayal, the thought makes your heart clench in your chest. You sit up gently, wiping away your tears with the bottom of your sweatshirt.

“I need my phone,” you mutter, bundling the damp fabric up into your fists nervously. “I’m sure Johnny’s wondering where I am. I owe him an explanation.”

“You don’t owe him a thing,” Kyle reminds you with an edge to his voice, something you can’t quite place as he carefully strokes your upper back. “He hurt you, remember?”

“I-I know, but-”

“No ‘buts.’ I’ll make you some brekky, hm? Help you clear tha’ head o’yours?” He leaves no room for argument, each of his words dripping with the hope that you’ll just listen.

“Okay,” you comply, rubbing your clammy hands over your face in frustration.

“Tha’s my girl,” Kyle hums, patting your head with his fingertips fondly. “Eggs and bacon still your favorite?”

You nod noncommittally, hugging your knees to your chest while Kyle goes to cook. You take a few moments to collect yourself before groaning and sliding off of the bed, stretching your sore muscles and cracking the knuckles that feel a little too tight. You’re more wobbly on your feet than expected, and you have to grab onto the edge of the nightstand to balance yourself.

When you look down, you find that your hand had landed on a cell phone and the lockscreen was fully lit. It’s not yours—the picture displayed isn’t the one you have currently, and the time is on a 24-hour clock. There’s no other option but Kyle. Looking around to make sure he hasn’t randomly decided to come back upstairs, you unplug the phone from its charger and hold it up to your face for a closer look.

Immediately, you recognize the picture—it was taken about three years ago, when you and Johnny had only been dating. The two of you went on a beach vacation with the rest of his mates that he worked with: John, Simon, and of course, Kyle. That was the year you and Johnny got matching tattoos with a random couple; the same ones that snapped the photo. Except, it’s not the whole group of five displayed on the screen, but a zoomed in capture of you and Kyle.

With furrowed eyebrows, you go to swipe his phone open, huffing in defeat when the passcode pops up. You could try to figure it out, do a bit of snooping for some kind of explanation for the background, but if you can’t crack the code in a certain amount of tries then it’ll lock him out. That would be too obvious. Instead, you set it back down in the same position as it was on the nightstand, rubbing your hands over your face. You seem to have picked up that habit as of late.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe the picture was too big to fit everyone into and he had to crop it down to fit the screen. Even then, couldn’t he have focused in on him and Simon who was on his other side? A heavy sigh escapes your dry throat—it’s no use trying to figure it out. You’re Kyle’s friend, too, he probably didn’t even realize the implication. You’re overthinking again, you have to be. Your brain is just on high alert, untrusting of everybody.

Still, you need to find your own phone. As difficult as it will most definitely be, you need to talk to Johnny, let him know you’re safe but need your space. The wooden floorboards creak under your weight as you exit his bedroom, running one palm down the railing as you descend down the rickety stairs. Despite everything, the delicious aroma of smoky bacon and fluffy eggs makes your aching stomach growl with hunger. Maybe once you get some food in your system, the fuzz in your head will go away and all of your paranoia will get thrown out the misty window.

“Ah, jus’ in time. I’ll make your plate,” Kyle grins at you over his shoulder, pulling out a flat dish and piling a good portion of piping hot breakfast onto your plate.

You nod silently and sit at the dining table while he finishes up, thanking him softly when he sets your food and a glass of orange juice in front of you. He’s sprinkled chives and cracked black pepper on top of the eggs, and the bacon is perfectly crisp and glistening with succulent melted fat. You hum in delight when the softness of the eggs hits your palette, smooth and subtle compared to the crunch of the bacon that follows. Fuck, it hits the spot, and already you’re feeling so much better than you were a few minutes ago.

Kyle sits across from you with his own plate, the porcelain dish completely hidden beneath towering heaps of food. You smile at the sight—he eats almost as much as Johnny does in the mornings. The refrigerator in your house stays stocked to its limit with nonperishables even when he’s on assignment, because you know the second he gets home, he’ll shovel the food into his mouth like a feral animal. It doesn’t bother you, always happy to cook for him. At least, you used to be.

The memory makes the food in your stomach turn sour, and suddenly the sight before you forces a wave of nausea to overtake you. The chair scrapes against the floor with a shriek when you scoot away from the table, and you grimace as you stand and rush to the bathroom. Almost instantly you collapse in front of the toilet, emptying the contents of your belly into it. Every muscle in your body screams in pain as you heave, only finding solace in the chill of the seat when you rest your cheek on it, finally cleaned out of bitter bile and leaving you to deal with the remaining sting.

A cautious knock makes itself known on the doorframe, but you don’t even have the energy to lift your head in acknowledgement. Kyle sighs softly, slowly approaching your crouching body and pulls your hair back, wiping the cold sweat from your face. Your little sniffles break his heart, and he helps you to your feet, making sure you’re stable before helping you settle on the couch. A weak smile tugs at the corners of your lips when he drapes a blanket over your sore body and tucks it beneath you.

“Gonna run to the shop, get y’some medicine and ingredients for soup, yeah? D’you need anythin’ ‘fore I go?” Kyle mutters, ruffling your hair fondly when you shake your head. “Be righ’ back, doll.”

The front door closes carefully, the faint jingle of keys turning in the lock letting you know that you’re now all alone. Kyle’s engine drones down the driveway before heading off, and as soon as you can no longer hear any movement from outside, you break down all over again. Hoarse sobs break free from your tight chest as you hold onto the blanket for dear life.

How did your life get so fucked? You and Johnny were happy, the communication was healthy, your sex life was outstanding—at least, that’s what you thought. Maybe it was all lies and deceit on his part, buttering you up to get away with the fact that he truly despises you. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t have begged for forgiveness, sobbed to you on his knees. You could see the remorse in his eyes, you swear it. Right?

It’s stupid, and it’s exactly the opposite of what you should do, but you throw the blanket off of yourself and stand from the couch, albeit wobbly in your movements. Your bag is still on the coffee table, and through stinging tears, you dig through it until you find your phone. You have to talk to Johnny, have to hear his voice, if only to remind you of all the pain he put you through. Damn you and your beating heart, you still love him, and a part of you knows you always will. When you open your phone, your throat swells with emotion at the notifications displayed.

27 missed calls from Johnny <3.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x female reader #kyle garrick x fem!reader #dark!gaz x reader #dark!gaz #dark!fic #cw: emetophobia #dead dove do not eat #fem!reader #soap x fem!reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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teagballs · 10 months

Text

hands! | gob bluth x reader smut

authors note: crawls towards you hi im back. for my fellow hand enthusiasts. this has been in my drafts for like a MONTH finished it today. still taking arrested development requests but now i also that its always sunny and what we do in the shadows and beetlejuice.... yeah. love ya enjoy <3

cw: smut obviously. first person perspective hand kink. gob teases alot because he is an ass. clit play, fingering, hickies. written with fem reader in mind and they have a vagina.

nsfw under cut

-------------------------------------------------------

My boyfriend, Gob, had an interesting hobby. Magic. Not the most attractive or accomplished interest, but it was his and I loved him so I went along with it. Coming to his shows, helping him learn new tricks, even being a stand in for his assistant in some cases. I always tried to support him.

Now, I sat in his kitchen, watching as my boyfriend performed a card trick. And it wasn't all that enticing, he kept getting it wrong and dropping his cards all over the table. His dedication was cute. I smiled a little and tried to hold interest. But slowly, my mind began to drift. The way his long fingers glided over the edge of the cards, and how they flicked through them to pick out a select amount. I had always had a thing for hands, and it was seemly arising again now.

"Now, watch I'll get it this time, pick a card." Gob said, laser focused on the cards. I hummed in acknowledgement and picked a card. As he ran his nimble fingers over the deck and shuffled once more my mind began to wander. What kind of dexterity would a magician hold in his hands? Trying not to get flustered and attempting to lock this thought away, I crossed my legs as if to hold back my arousal and sat up straighter. 'Sexualising your boyfriend's innocent hobby? Perv,' I thought.

I tried to focus solely on the trick but that seemed to make things worse. God, he had nice hands. Lengthy digits, veins that ran on the back of his hands, was I blushing? Gob looked at me again, ready to ask for my card back to shuffle into the pile, but he seemed to pick up that my focus had shifted. Maybe he had gathered from my upright form and fidgeting that something was off and I wasn't fully present.

"Hey, are you paying attention?" He groaned childishly.

'Yes. Definitely, I am." I replied quickly, tensing a little.

"You're not. You look all distracted." Gob replied. Shit, he had picked up on it. I couldn't tell him the truth - the reason I wasn't fully focused was because his hands were really fucking turning me on.

"No I am really! It's just that, I.. um," I struggled to find an excuse, hoping the ground would swallow me up. If I wasn't flustered before I certainly was now. I settled on just awkwardly looking away from him, hoping he would either move away from the subject or figure it out on his own.

"What's up with you? You're all... oh." The pin dropped. Gob realised why I was so distracted. My hand grazed my face, trying to decide if he gotten there from context clues or if the blood had rushed to my face.

"So, what's got you so riled up?" he teased. The switch from showman to flirtatious dick was fast. He leaned over the table now, lowering his voice and tone.

"Riled up? What are you talking about?" Gob might be a little stupid, but he could still tell I were lying.

"You're blushing, that impressed by my magic?" He questioned. His ego was showing. There was no escaping this. I sighed and gave in.

"No its not your magic its... your hands." I admitted shamefully. Gob raised an eyebrow, confused.

"I've always had a thing for them. I find them, like, attractive, like you'd find ass or tits attractive, they just.. they make me think about what they can do, what'd they'd feel like on me, inside me." I babbled, trying desperately to explain my weird attraction.

To my surprise and relief Gob understood? He hummed in acknowledgement. "I get it." I could feel myself growing wetter.

"I guess you doing a magic trick... it made me think you know, cause your a magician, what else can you, um, do with your hands." I told him, looking anywhere but at him.

Gob smirked at this, filled with pride. "Well, how about you find out?"

I lifted my head to look at him, "...What?" I mumbled.

"Why don't you find out how good my hands are at other things?" His smirk grew.

Gob made his way over to me and kissed me. He grabbed onto my shirt to guide me out of the room. He moved his hands to my face as the kiss grew deeper stumbling out of the kitchen. The whole situation had made us both so desprate, essentially eating eachothers faces now. The pair of us stumbled onto the sofa, pulling away briefly to catch our breath with a string of saliva connecting. This time when we reconnected, Gob began to work the button of my jeans. I whimpered in anticipation. Gob's hand made its way into my jeans. Gently, using his ring and middle finger he felt my wetness through my underwear.

"Fuck. You really must like hands huh?" He chuckled goofily.

To help with ease of access, I began to shimmy my jeans off. Now, Gob was able to pull my underwear down. The cold air on my pussy made me arch my back. Gob hovered above md, hands on either side of my face on the communal sofa, which was about to be desecrated. He ran his index finger up my now exposed slit. He started slow, painfully slow. I twitched and bucked my hips, antsy for more. He repeated this movement until he gathered a sufficient amount of wetness. Finally, he ran small, steady circles around my soaked clit. This caused me to mewl out. I was a little embarrassed at how loud I were for such a small movement, though, this only seemed to encourage Gob. He continued his slow pace, but this definitely wasn't enough.

"Please Gob, please go fucking faster," I grunted out of frustration. Ever willing, Gob increased the speed. I grinded my clit down on his finger. In response, Gob switched to two fingers and started kneading my bundle of nerves an accelerated speed. Fuck. He was gifted with his hands. This new pace was overstimulating. He maintained it as I loudly moaned praises and a string of obscenities.

"Fuck! Gob- so fucking good- m'gonna-" was all I could get out before cumming.

Gob was full of himself now. Shocked at his own abilities. "Wow. And I haven't even touched here yet," he said, plunging his fingers in my drenched entrance. This action caused me to emit another loud sob to Gob's delight.

"Shouldn't waste anymore time." He mused and thrusted two fingers into my pussy. I arched again. A little awkwardly, Gob repositioned us both. Now he was sitting on the sofa with me in his lap, his fingers taunting me by hovering above where I needed them most.

"Please," I mumbled. He smiled before placing his two fingers in and out of my wetness. It was too slow. Not deep enough to feel any pleasure. My hole clenched around his fingers, my body's way of revealing yearning with using my words. He began a pace of moving his fingers. I needed more, needed him to go deeper, faster. Gob found my eagerness all too amusing. Once he reinserted his fingers to my drenched pussy again, he curled them. This action caused me to let out a long moan.

"Fuuuuuck." I groaned. Gob smirked against my neck, growing more and more proud of his ability to please. He attached his mouth to my neck, gingerly sucking love bites and kissing me gently as he continued to guide his fingers in and out of me. Gradually, he increased his pace. He began to pump in and out of my pussy, continuing to curl his fingers. He kept this up until he was fingering me at an excruciating pace, I wasn't going to last much longer.

"Fuck! Gob, m'gonna cum soon." I sobbed. Gob took this as a challenge. How quick could he make me cum? He reached his other hand down to my pussy and began to rub my clit again at a ferocious pace. This, combined with the attention to my neck was more than enough to send me over the edge and bring me to an orgasm for the second time.

I fell against my boyfriend, my head found its place in the crook of his neck. Exhaused. I look up to find Gob, licking the result of his labor off his fingers. I whimper a little at the sight, fuck that's hot. But I'm too tired to go again. Gob chuckles, "Did they live up to your expectations?" He asks, wiggling his hands in a sort of 'jazz hands' motion. I groan. I'm never going to hear the end of this. Cocky bastard.

#gob bluth #gob bluth x reader #arrested development #arrested development x reader #will arnett #x reader

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duck-in-a-thrift-store · 5 months

Text

Prologue? Pilot? IDK Man I Just Work Here

part 1.1

{hello and welcome to the very first chapter of the full house au. i know @moreover-clover and @redley-of-many-noodles offered to beta this fic for me; i appreciate that and i may very well take you up on it for later chapters, but tbh i have homework that really needs to get done and i will not be able to focus on anything else until i get this out of the way, so... hopefully its not terrible i guess. that said, i did initially start writing this in past tense and then decided to do it in present instead, so if anyone notices a typo/tense error, feel free to point it out so i can fix it lol

trigger warning for mentions of injuries and death

now without further ado...}

~~~

Stumbling past the automatic glass doors, covered in blood- but is it his own? Or does it belong to the barely conscious man he’s dragging along beside him?

Probably both.

The bright white lights overhead burn his eyes and the sharp sterile scent of chemicals does the same to his nose- this is not a pleasant place to be, but it’s the only place to be right now. It’s their only hope of not losing yet another person to this alternate dimension shit that’s been plaguing their lives for three years.

Seeing Eddie’s crumpled, torn-apart body in the Upside Down, watching Dustin sob over him- that had been bad enough. They may have had almost matching wounds, but Eddie’s were deeper, and there were twice as many of them, and, god, that could have been him, it should have been him.

Dustin’s devastated and the world is ending and we’ve lost someone else and dammit didn’t I tell him not to be a hero?

But then he’d found a pulse. The faintest flutter, but it was there, and it spurred him right back into action, adrenaline pumping overtime through his veins even as he was ready to collapse. Both of them might well be on death’s door, but they had hope.

And then, just as they made it back through the gate, they had gotten the call over the walkie about Max.

The panic and despair threatened to settle back over him, driving him into the ground with its weight. He had been trying so hard to keep her safe since they realized she was Vecna’s next target, and now…

They were supposed to meet up at the hospital, so that’s where he went. He has to see the kids and he has to keep Eddie breathing and maybe just maybe he’ll get a chance to get his own wounds looked at, if there’s time. Robin will never forgive him if he lets rabies take him out.

So he and Dustin have Eddie slung between them, barreling clumsily through the Hawkins ER like a lopsided bull in a proverbial china shop while everyone else stares on in confusion and horror at the state they’re in. If anyone recognizes the fallen king or the target of the ongoing manhunt, they don’t say anything, and for that one tiny thing in the long and awful list of what’s happened today, he’s grateful.

There are, however, voices aimed in his direction, lilted up at the end in interrogation, but he can’t afford to think right now; he can only keep moving forward, giving weakly shouted answers to questions that go in one ear and out the other. His mind is clouded with fear and the desperation to get all his important people back together in one room so he can see that they’re all still alive. If they aren’t, if someone is missing, if Max doesn’t make it, if no one will treat Eddie-

He’s vaguely aware that he’s begging at this point, but he doesn’t care. His brain is too busy listing.

Robin, Nancy, Erica, Lucas- they’re together, they’re with Max. The Byers are all the way in California; Mike is probably on his way back right now- what a mess to come home to. Dustin- he’s with me. Safe. Eddie- also with me, not safe, probably dying.

They may not have known each other long, but he does feel tears prick his eyes at the thought- they had literally marched into hell together, after all. A nurse offers him a tissue- when did they get here? When did he sit down? And why is the room spinning like the Starcourt ceiling last July?

He doesn’t get an answer to any of his questions, doesn’t even get to voice them, before the room is going dark and Dustin’s frantic voice at his side is sounding further and further away, until everything goes quiet.

~~~

The silence is broken by a harsh ringing noise, followed by muffled voices, the latter growing clearer as the former slowly fades out. He knows those voices.

He jolts upright, sending a sharp trail of pain through his lacerated torso, but is momentarily distracted by the fact that he had somehow wound up in a hospital bed between blacking out and waking up. As soon as his mind catches up to speed on his new whereabouts, he looks wildly around the room- not exactly a typical hospital room, but that hasn’t registered yet- taking stock of every face he can see, every voice he can hear.

To his immense relief- and also confusion- he sees Max in a bed just like his right across from him, Lucas and El at her side. She’s in bad shape, but she appears to be alive, at least.

Thank god. Wait- El? What is she doing here?

The next thing he sees is the entire Byers family- plus two extra guys, one of whom looks familiar but way paler and thinner and more beaten up than Steve remembers- squeezed onto a couch at the far end of the room.

Weren’t they in California? And- hold on- is that Hopper? Isn’t he dead?

Wait.

Am I dead?

Before he can have an existential crisis, though, something snaps him out of it. A hand on his shoulder, rougher than he would have liked, to be honest, but grounding. Dustin- who he realizes must have been sleeping in the chair between him and the next bed over- has just woken up in time to catch him doing the same, and the kid looks thrilled. Exhausted, emotionally drained, but thrilled.

“Steve! Guys, he’s awake!”

All eyes turn his way, just about everyone accounted for, it seems, and somewhere in the back of his mind he wonders how Robin and all the kids got here with their usual chauffer currently out of action. But then he notices something else. Something that honestly shouldn’t be as startling as it is, considering everything else going on.

All the parents are here too. And they look… well, about how they can be expected to look, given the circumstances.

“Good, I’m glad you’re alright,” says Karen Wheeler, arms crossed over her chest, menacing gaze sweeping the room. “Because my son came home in the back of a pizza van, begging us to take him to the hospital, where apparently you and two of his other friends have been half-dead all night in the middle of these so-called ‘earthquakes,’ and I’d really like an explanation. From all of you.”

~~~

The room was dead silent, the parents staring in wide-eyed shock as the long-winded, traumatic narrative drew to a close.

“So… I guess you guys need some time to process all that, huh?”

Dustin’s question was met with a sudden cacophony of returning inquiries, sharp and frantic and tinged with bewilderment, overlapping one another in their haste. It was hard to tell who said what through the haze of whatever painkillers they put in his IV.

“How the hell did we not know about any of this?”

“Hawkins is cursed?”

“Why didn’t any of you say anything?”

“All this has been going on under our noses for years?”

He had been expecting disbelief, accusations of letting their imaginations run away from them, but… their tale connects a few too many dots, makes a little too much sense, considering how strange and malevolent life has become in their formerly sleepy little town.

“Are- are you guys- mad?” Will asks, even though he, out of all of them, has the least to worry about.

Before any of them could answer, Mike jumps in, “Because, if you are, that’s really not fair, we’ve sorta been through a lot as it is-”

“And that’s exactly why we’re mad- no- furious. Our kids have been going through hell right in front of us and we had no idea! Of course we’re going to be upset about it! You guys could have died, and we would have had no idea what happened!”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but- we didn’t. We’re fine, mom…”

“You are absolutely not fine. After everything you just told us about? There’s no way you could possibly be fine. This whole thing is so far outside the realm of fine.”

There’s a heavy pause after that; it’s not like anyone can disagree with her. When no response comes, she turns her fierce, teary eyes on the older teens.

“What about you guys? You- Steve, Jonathan, Nancy- you’ve known about all this the whole time! Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you come to us for help?” It sounds like an accusation, and yet… there’s more pain in her voice than anything. Her targets wince, crumple, while Robin and Argyle- whoever that is- just sort of awkwardly shuffle about off to the side, none of them meeting Mrs. Wheeler’s gaze.

It's Joyce who ends up breaking the tense silence.

“In their defense, Karen, Hop and I knew about all this too. The thing is- we weren’t allowed to tell anyone.”

Having become one of her anger’s new targets, Hopper quickly explains, “The Hawkins lab freaks made us sign a bunch of NDAs, take a vow of silence on the whole matter, basically. It was the only way to get them to cooperate. If we had gone around telling people, we could’ve put everyone in even more danger. And besides, before now, would you have even believed us? If we had told you there were monsters like something out of a sci-fi movie hunting folks down, taking over minds, opening portals to another dimension- right in the middle of Hawkins?”

“Would you have believed your kids?” Joyce adds softly, addressing all her fellow moms in the room.

At that, Karen deflates. She exchanges a look with Sue and Claudia, and speaks for all of them when she says, “I… I guess not. I want to say I would have, but… it’s all too crazy. If we hadn’t seen what we saw today, and if you all didn’t have each other backing up your story, well… honestly, I would have thought you were making it up.” Apparently the Wheelers had almost driven right into one of the rifts- one of the very obviously otherworldly rifts- on their way here. Well, they had to find out somehow.

“And that’s another reason we couldn’t tell you. We didn’t want you to think we were crazy,” Nancy explains.

Lucas tacks on, “We also didn’t want you to send El back to the lab, or to any other messed up place that would lock her up and hurt her.”

El nods seriously, a fearful expression flashing across her face as she takes a step back, bumping into Max's bed. Lucas places a reassuring hand- the one not occupied with holding Max's- on her shoulder.

“Oh- honey, no, we would never do that. Don’t worry. We actually owe you a lot, it sounds like; I can’t thank you enough for saving my children’s lives. You’ll always be safe with us, as far as I’m concerned.”

“But that’s the thing,” Susan interjects, not taking her watery eyes off her comatose daughter. “They’re not safe, none of them are, not here. And they haven’t been for a long time, it seems. I don’t know when they will be safe. I hate to say it, but I don’t think our kids should stay in Hawkins.”

This triggers a rush of protests from the kids, voices once again blending in a way that’s difficult for Steve to keep up with.

“But- but Hawkins needs us! Now more than ever!”

“Yeah! We have to stay and fight!”

“We can’t just let Vecna have our town!”

Hopper motions for everyone to settle down. “Listen, kids. I know you want to help, but you’ve been fighting this battle for too long as it is. You all never should have been involved in something so dangerous in the first place.”

“Right, what he said. I mean, you’re just kids, for god’s sake!” Claudia adds in, although she still looks mostly stunned by everything she’s just found out about.

“This is not your responsibility. We’ll stay here and fight, and you all will get somewhere safe, somewhere far away from all this.”

This does indeed sound like a direct order from their returned-from-the-dead resident chief of police. What comes next, though, is much gentler, fatherly, and he’s definitely looking right at El when he says it.

“Let us take it from here, okay?”

~~~

{i decided to break this up into 2 parts; idk when ill post the second half but it should be fairly soon. also dont know when ill put it up on ao3 as i dont currently have an account there, but im definitely planning to bc with as much as i have planned for this au so far its going to be a pain in the ass to read it all here lmao

edit: its going to be 3 parts instead of 2

Link to part 1.2 here}

#full house au #its finally here you guys #shit is getting real #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #max mayfield #chief hopper #joyce byers #karen wheeler

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dream-of-the-bitchless · 3 months

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The Price of Knowledge - A Corintheus Fic for A Corinthian Celebration

I'm very happy to present you all with this short piece to honour my favourite boy. Thanks to @mr-sadman for putting together this weekend celebration of the Corinthian. For detailed CWs, check out the AO3 link.

So without further ado, here's my contribution for Day 1 - Truth Serum. Enjoy!

The air tastes like dust and humidity. The guards have long been removed to give him privacy, yet he still paces the outermost chamber of the cell, uncertain. It is only after dawn breaks that the Corinthian mutters “fuck it” and walks past the iron bars that signal the entrance of the makeshift prison, a velvet pouch tightly grasped in his right hand.

He sticks to the shadows despite knowing his presence must’ve been felt hours ago. He strolls around the room, circling the glass sphere as if admiring a particularly intricate art installation, and a part of himself mocks his cowardice for not daring to confront the prisoner during the night. Not like it makes a true difference; it’s always night somewhere. But the knowledge that there’s light outside of that wretched chamber comforts him.

Still, nothing could’ve prepared the Corinthian for locking eyes with his maker after 50 years.

The emotions that swim in Dream’s bottomless pupils are as strong as they are contradictory. There is hope and relief and scepticism and rage. Most of all, there is confusion, but the Corinthian isn’t in a hurry to explain himself.

Instead, he uses the momentary respite from that gaze that he gets when Dream shifts his position to extend his hands towards the top of the glass and iron contraption that holds the Endless. There, the Corinthian feels his way around until he disengages a small hatch. As swiftly as the uncomfortable position allows him, the Corinthian empties the contents of the pouch into the sphere, promptly closing the hatch after he’s done.

A fine powder falls onto the Dreamlord like snow, dissolving in a matter of seconds and leaving no trace of its presence. Dream blinks a few times, but makes no other move. The Corinthian is almost disappointed. Still, he needs to know if it has taken effect on the captive.

“Morning, my Lord,” he croons, a smile parting his lips. Dream merely glances at him from under dark lashes, face tight, carved in marble, and for the first time, the nightmare notices how much thinner his creator looks, how much older and younger at the same time.

Dream’s body is all sharp angles and lithe muscle, the skin unblemished yet muted, almost translucent, allowing a glimpse at the human-like features that lie underneath. A pulse thrums at the neck, and the Corinthian takes a moment to admire the precision and rigour that went into the shaping of the Dreamlord’s personification. After all, his creator is not known for doing things half-heartedly.

A few beats later and the Corinthian composes himself, raising both brows at his maker. “No talking? What, you don’t want me to get you out of here?”

“I am under no delusion that you will aid me,” Dream snarls. “I have felt your presence here before, years ago. It was only after that I was placed in this crystal prison, the runes surrounding me reinforced. I would have to be terribly simple-minded to believe it a coincidence.”

The Corinthian considers the words, prepared to deny them, before ultimately choosing the bold route. “It’s been a while since then, isn’t it? Things could’ve changed—”

“But they didn’t.” Dream’s whole body tenses under his indignation, the sentence a declaration of facts. He turns his head to the side, avoiding the Corinthian’s eyes. “You’ve now seen me at my lowest. Take your fill and leave.”

The last look is almost pleading, and it disarms the Corinthian for a moment. You’re wasting time, dumbass. The effects of the powder won’t last forever, a part of him admonishes and it’s enough to get the nightmare back on track. He needs to focus if he expects to get the answers he’s looking for.

“Oh, I’ll leave alright. After a few questions, that is,” he says, crouching in front of the sphere until he’s eye to eye with his maker.

Understanding flashes in Dream’s eyes, his grave tone a warning in any other circumstance. “What have you done?”

“I’ve merely ensured that I get the full truth this time. No lying allowed.”

The Endless scoffs, humourless. “Attempting to poison me with faerie magic won’t get you what you want, I assure you.”

“This is no fae magic, Dream. And I’ll be the judge of that.” There is wariness in the deep blue gaze that pierces the Corinthian, and he wastes no time cutting to the chase. “What am I to you?”

The resulting words come out in quick succession, as if falling out of the Dreamlord’s mouth of their own volition. “You’re my masterpiece, my greatest creation. The one that has brought me the most joy and the most sorrow.”

“So, you admit that I’m nothing but an object of display, a tool, meant to look pretty and do its job and nothing more?”

“No,” Dream blurts out, and the Corinthian is morbidly fascinated by the mere idea of such a lack of control in his otherwise poised King. “You were never a mere tool, although I have wished to display you.”

The Corinthian arches a brow. “What for?”

“As a testament to my might and to my arrogance.” The Dreamlord gazes down at his hands, which are now trembling slightly, the rim of his eyes becoming red with unshed tears. The Corinthian needs to take a deep breath before continuing.

“The last time we met, in Berlin, you were going to unmake me. What was the plan after that?”

“To punish you for your trespasses. To ensure that you could not hurt any other mortals.”

“How?”

“I did not know, but you needed to be stopped. Unmaking you was paramount to their safety.”

“Were you planning to re-create me?”

“Yes, although I did not know when or in what form.”

“What would you have altered?"

“Ensuring your loyalty would have been paramount for a second iteration of you.”

Hearing that, rage surges inside the Corinthian, prompting him to stand up to his full height. He pounds on the glass with an accusatory finger. “You would have me brainwashed, lobotomised! You would take everything that makes me who I am!”

Dream’s eyes grow wide. “I would have you faithful.”

“You wanted a servant!” the Corinthian reproaches.

“I wanted a companion!”

The breath is punched out of the Corinthian’s lungs, his physical form too used to human gestures by now. Inside his crystal prison, Dream is on his knees, back straight and eyes watery. His expression is of shock, as if this was as much a revelation to him as it was to the Corinthian, and when the words keep coming out, his pupils dart around in alarm, evidencing the involuntary nature of his admittances.

“I longed for someone with a darkness not unlike mine, so that when they were confronted with my own, they wouldn’t leave.”

A huff leaves the Corinthian’s lips, and he shakes his head, disbelieving. “No, you—you wanted someone to order around, to be your guard dog.”

“I did wish for protection stemming from devotion, not from duty. And I hoped that devotion would, in time, transmute into love.”

“Oh, I see. You expected me to love you and worship the very ground you stepped on for absolutely nothing in return.”

Dream snaps his head up, a frown obscuring his face. “I was prepared to give you everything.”

“Another lie!” the Corinthian exclaims, his eye-mouths repeating the accusation. “You had all the time in the universe to prove yourself, and all I could ever aspire to were scraps of your attention when you got bored or others left you.”

“And what about yourself, Corinthian? When has anything been enough for you?”

The Corinthian lets out a humourless laugh. “That’s rich coming from a supposedly endless being. But let’s say I accept that claim. Then whose fault is it that I am the way I am?”

“I have never denied my part in your flaws—"

“No, no,” the Corinthian shakes his head. “You may have admitted that there are issues with the design, but you have not taken responsibility for them. Your only solution is to destroy me, to start from scratch because you fucked up the blueprints while I take the brunt of that fuck-up.”

“There are rules, Corinthian, and you were killing the very beings we’re supposed to serve.”

“You don’t serve anyone but yourself.”

A languid tear falls from the Dreamlord’s right eye. “It pains me to see what you have become.”

“You don’t even know who I am!” The Corinthian slams his fist against one of the iron fixtures holding the sphere, all three sets of teeth bared.

The expression on Dream’s face is one of deep sorrow, one the Corinthian has only seen him sport on three other occasions in their history together, and something in him snaps, all the rage he is feeling transforming into a stinging ache in his chest, the accumulation of eons of resentment, jealousy and pain hitting him all at once.

“You—”

He feels his legs slowly giving way under him, and he lets gravity pull him to the ground, half his body pressed against the glass on his way down until he too is on his knees.

“Did you—” he starts, unable to bring himself to finish, but Dream seems to understand.

“I did. I do.”

His smaller mouths gasp, and the Corinthian has to fight the tears that gather at the corners of them. “You’re lying.”

“You may tell yourself whatever you deem more tolerable, but I believe you have always known this, at your core. I whispered it against every bone of yours as I crafted them—"

“Stop!” the Corinthian screams, stopping short from slamming the glass once more, this time intending to break it.

He’s dropped his head, and his eyes are tightly shut, refusing to behold Dream’s current expression in fear that his resolve might crack under the force of the vulnerability and the tears that no doubt will be there. He made a deal, after all.

Truth is, he’s had that magical powder for years. He received it even before he had instructed Roderick Burgess on how to properly—and permanently—contain Dream of the Endless, thus fulfilling his part of the bargain. And yet, he had been sitting on it for 49 years, unwilling or unable to face his creator in a more equalised playing field.

Truth is, he had laughed when his benefactor warned him that he wouldn’t be able to back out of the deal, regardless of what happened during the confrontation. The Corinthian had laughed because he couldn't fathom anything that might motivate him to free Dream. This was his ultimate victory, his final “fuck you” to his maker and the only way to force Dream to be honest so he would finally say straight to the Corinthian’s face I made you to use you and throw you away. To either be a slave or to not be at all.

And yet, the Corinthian has to fight every grain of sand in his being to be able to stand up and remove himself from that damn glass. As he does, he adjusts his shades, askew after his undignified display. He smooths out his suit jacket, straightens his tie and grits all three sets of his teeth before taking in the sight of Dream once more.

The Dreamlord looks fragile, more naked than ever, and his eyes glint with a spark that the Corinthian cannot decipher. There are tear tracks on his face and his lower lip trembles. However, the tremor doesn’t translate to his voice when he speaks.

“I have not stopped hoping, Corinthian, that you may one day return to me. I recognise my lack of authority to demand anything, yet I wish that, if you take but one thing with you from today’s encounter, it is the knowledge of my undying faith in you,” Dream says, and the next moment, the blue in his eyes turns into the vacuum of space, galaxies forming at the centre of it. It reminds the Corinthian of his birth, of the first thing he saw as life was breathed into him. Then the Dreamlord whispers, “Know this, my nightmare: I will be waiting.”

The Corinthian doesn’t reply. Instead, he turns on his heel, storming out of the chamber as anger and something else rises in his chest, that last sentence echoing in every fibre of his being like a curse, like a prayer, like a dying man’s wish, and all the Corinthian wants is to leave Fawney Rig, never to return.

~*~

Outside, it rains. A lean figure dressed in a burgundy suit awaits on the steps leading to the Burgess’ mansion, and the Corinthian forces his features into an unaffected expression before confronting them.

“Well?” Desire interrogates, a satisfied smile on their lips giving away that they already know the answer.

The Corinthian’s voice comes out too nonchalant to be sincere. “Well, I fulfilled my part of the agreement and you fulfilled yours. There are no more debts between us.”

“C’est fini, then.”

“C’est fini,” the Corinthian drawls the last vowel, extending it for all its worth. When Desire doesn’t speak, the nightmare pulls out a cigarette so as not to have to fill the silence himself.

Golden eyes stare into the distance, taking in the gardens of the Burgess’ state. “And did you find what you were looking for? Learn anything new?”

“More or less,” the Corinthian ponders, suddenly feeling bolder. “I, for one, learnt that there’s very little you wouldn’t do to screw over your brother.”

The golden eyes gleam with a careful rage that seems to always be there, brewing right under the surface. “Oh, please. You are going to lecture me about morality now? I warned you when all of this started. No backing out, no matter what you learnt.”

“And I won’t. Relax.” The Corinthian exhales a puff of smoke, thus covering the sigh of his smaller mouths. “It just never ceases to amaze me how fucked up your kind can be.”

Desire barks out a laugh, their voice dripping condescension. “Corinthian, you misunderstand me and Dream. What you see is the way we communicate.”

The Corinthian raises a brow, internally cursing the moment he got involved with a pack of overly powerful beings who behave like schoolchildren. However, when Desire speaks again, there is a vulnerability in their gaze that the Corinthian had never before been privy to.

“You don’t deserve to know this but I’m still going to tell you. I have tried in the past to do things differently, to approach our familial relationship from a more cordial angle. But Dream is…unreachable. His pride will always stand in the way. So, what am I left with, but the shame, and the rage, and the grief.” They frown, and the Corinthian can almost see all those emotions play out in the amber of their eyes, before they close after an exasperated sigh. “Perhaps that sounds more like something you would understand.”

And the Corinthian can indeed understand that. He could also say something; that he relates to it; that he resents Dream for the same reasons. Instead, he drops the butt of the cigarette to the ground, stomping it with his patent leather shoes.

“I gotta go now,” he says, starting his way down the stone steps.

“I feel for you, in a way—” Desire calls out, making the Corinthian pause, “knowing what you know and not being able to do a single thing about it. Finding out too little, too late. But alas, that’s the nature of desire, isn’t it? It’s no longer fun once you get what you want.”

The Corinthian swallows dryly and resumes walking. And although he cannot see them, he can still feel those golden eyes following him long after he leaves Fawney Rig.

#a corinthian celebration 2024 #the corinthian #dream of the endless #morpheus #corintheus #desire of the endless #the sandman #fanfiction #Reg writes #ao3

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