#listen this is my third fucking time getting tested

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

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PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #brocedes #Spotify

[bittervalentine]

legitimately no shade at all to the post thats going around rn about demystifying homestuck, but i feel like any homestuck fan who claims its not that weird or difficult to understand has just gotten too used to homestuck being the way it is to remember how fucking incomprehensible it is on first contact. "the plot/worldbuilding isnt that hard to understand" sure, if youre willing to just roll with shit as it comes. the problem is that homestuck is structured and paced like an insane person wrote it, because an insane person did write it. theres a lot of narrative shorthand and convention we take for granted in stories and homestuck throws so much of that out the window that at first glance its barely recognizable as a narrative at all. the first, second, and third time i read it, i felt like my brain was melting out my ear. dont get me wrong, i think its fantastic and highly recommend it if youre someone willing or even eager to listen to the sound of your brain sauteeing inside your own skull, but it isnt for everyone for a very good reason and the reason is that in many ways, both purposeful and accidental, homestuck is less a coherent narrative and more a test of endurance

#homestuck

[ghxstyfae]

A B C's ♡ R.Cameron Headcanons

Warnings: breeding kink with intent of pregnancy, nsfw, baby fever,

Synopsis: Rafes fiance is a kindergarten teacher and is experiencing extreme baby fever, Rafe decides to breed her

Taglist: @sunflowerleii

The new school year started and in walked a bunch of puffy-faced toddlers, happy as can be, everyday.

"Hi Mrs. Cameron!" "Have a good lunch Mrs. C!" "Can you help with my zipper please?"

Ugh they're adorable. By the third month of teaching kindergarten you were off the deep end. Your whole social medias were filled with cute babies and you couldnt stop picturing what a mix of you and rafe would look like

It got worse when you started dragging Rafe through baby asiles.

He kinda thought it was a joke at first

"You trying to tell me something baby?"

Yes you were!!

You kept telling him you "forgot" to pick up your birth control prescription

But he keeps using a condom? Does he not want babies with you?

One day he finds you holding little ugg baby booties you impulse bought, crying into your pillow.

"Whats wrong baby? What happened?"

And thats when you start wailing about wanting a baby and how he didnt want to give you one.

Hes just like "When did i say i wouldnt get you pregnant??"

Kisses your tummy and tells you how beautiful you'll look, swelling with his seed

"Gonna keep you home, nursing our little baby, being a perfect little mommy hm?"

He kneads your breasts and tells you that soon they'll be filled with nourishment for your baby

"Fuck should've had you teaching the kindies earlier huh? Wouldve made you a mommy already."

He fucks your hard, barely pulling out to thrust in again.

Probably about 3/4 rounds

He wouldn't pull out when hes done, probaly would make you cockwarm him for atleast half an hour.

"Its okay baby, you can rest, ill wake you up when i take us to the shower. For now just let it take."

"We'll go out for supper, make sure you'll get some salmon. Then ill pick up some tests and call Dr. Halls and let her know what we're planning for huh?"

Just keeps making plans, speaking lowly in your ears, even though he knows your probably not listening.

When hes sorta sure you've fallen asleep, he cradles you and whispers.

"Gonna make sure im better then my dad okay baby? Wont ever hurt you. Wont ever hurt out baby. You're the most important thing to me. Ill always keep you safe."

After a few weeks, you wake up at nearly six in the morning with morning sickness, and present a positive pregnancy test to Rafe and celebrate

He becomes MUCH more protective over you, especially when you start showing

The kids in your class are the sweetest, most curious little things ♡

"You have a tiny person in your tummy? Are they sleeping?"

Rafe visits her class multiple times a week, and the kids have become kinda accustomed to him

"Hi Mr. Cameron! Look at what Mrs. C Gave me!"

Once you go on maternity leave, he sets everything up to work from home as well, only going in once a week kr for bigger meetings.

The kids in your class make you cards and stuff💝

Rafe always gives you whatever your craving, helps you when your crying kr feeling over emotional, etc.

#fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe headcanons #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x pregnant!reader #rafe #rafe obx

[justinalovee]

𝑴𝒖ñ𝒂

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen × Reader × Helena

Targaryen

Word Count: 847

Warnings: Incest, breastfeeding kink, fingering, thigh riding, kink shame

Summary: Aegon comes to realise he has a breastfeeding kink

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI. I’ve decided to split this into two parts

The first time Aegon noticed the wet spots that your nipples had produced was early one morning when he felt you rustling beside him. You woke to the milk soaking through the fabric of your nightgown. As you were sleeping between Aegon and Helaena, it was impossible not to wake them. The sun shining into the room was enough for them to see the damp fabric of your clothing. You scoot to the bottom of the bed to remove the nightgown and change into a new one.

“Is that normal?” Aegon is alarmed. “Should I send for the maester?”

“She’s fine; her milk is just coming in,” Helaena says, yawning. She fluffs her pillow before laying her head back down on it.

Aegon looks up at you, confused. You smile at him. You place his hand on your swollen stomach and say, “My body is just getting ready for the baby.”

He says nothing but kisses your bump.

—

The second time Aegon noticed the milk coming from your teats was when he entered your shared bed chambers to see you riding Helaena. Your soaking core rubbed against her soft thigh, while one of her hands clasped at your bare ass while the other gripped your hip tightly, holding you in place.

You had been so caught up in chasing your high that you’d been oblivious to the small droplets of milk coming from you as Helaena sucked your breast into her mouth. It wasn’t until she leaned back and moved to suckle on the other that you noticed the milk still on her lips. She didn’t seem bothered by it, while Aegon stood frozen in place, watching.

Although watching his wives fucking always got him hard, Aegon felt something else as well. Jealousy. He wished to know how the milk coming from your perfect breast tastes.

—

The third time he noticed was when he assisted you while you bathed. Aegon listens as you complain of how sore and heavy your stomach and breasts felt while washing your back. Usually he would be sliding his fingers inside of you by this point, but his eyes kept lingering on your breasts, which kept leaking.

His cheeks flushed red whenever he noticed. At first, you thought he found it disgusting, but then you started to notice his dick always got hard. You wanted to mention it but didn’t want to risk embarrassing Aegon, knowing how shy he could be about certain things.

You made a mental note to try to find a way to test your theory that Aegon had a breastfeeding kink without actually mentioning it.

You bounce up and down on Aegon's cock, enjoying the pleasurable sting of his cock stretching your cunt to fit him. If it weren’t for Helaena clashing her lips against your own, you were sure the whole of the keep could hear your moans of pleasure.

“Bend over.”

Following your command, Helaena turned around and leaned down onto her elbows with her plump ass sticking up. The way she was bent gave you a full view of her glistening core. When she starts to rub at her clit, you slide your fingers along her folds a few times before thrusting two into her.

When your eyes move back to Aegon, you notice his gaze is on your breasts, which have started to leak again. Now or never. You tangle your free hand into his thick hair and motion for him to sit up. Gently kiss him on the lips before guiding his head to where you wanted it most. He looks up at you for permission. When you nod, Aegon wraps his lips around your hard nipple.

His thrusts become harder as he sucks every drop that he can from your breast. Helaena moans loudly as she brings herself to a climax on your fingers. You’d make up for your lack of effort later, as it was hard to be considerate of both of them at the same time. But Helaena held no ill will as she began to kiss the side of your neck as you held Aegon tightly.

Both of you came together quickly, and not long after, all three of you fell asleep.

—

Staring up at the ceiling, you feel Aegon shuffling beside you. You look at Helaena, who was sleeping peacefully beside you, hugging a pillow to her face as his shiny silver locks fell over it.

You whisper, “Aegon, are you awake?”

“Elena, you should be asleep.”

You roll onto your side so you can face him, and your noses brush together. “What’s keeping you up, my love?”

“… I’m ashamed that I enjoyed ‘it’ so much.”

Instantly, you know what he’s alluding to. You brush stray hairs behind his ear. “You shouldn’t feel any shame.” Seeing his lilac eyes linger on Helaena, you decide not to go any further into the conversation just now. “We can talk about it further in the morning, if you like.”

Aegon nods; he cuddles in closer, resting his hand on your swollen bump before trying to fall asleep.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon smut #house of the dragon x reader #aegon targaryen x fem reader #Aegon Targaryen smut #aegon targaryen x you #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon targaryen x reader #helaena targaryen #helaena targaryen smut #helaena targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x female reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen x helaena targaryen

[007reid]

coffee caramels. spencer reid

this is my submission for the cm meet cute (or not) challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins ! i did VERY loose research on the stuff spencer sprouts off on because i am not our boy genius so sorry if there are any inaccuracies ':( this is my first time writing for spencer but i literally love it so much and i'd love to write more so plz flood my inbox with requests for him plzzz 😭

pairing: fem!reader x spencer reid

prompt: character sits next to a stranger in the theater, but the two end up bonding when there's a technical glitch.

warnings: slightly grumpy!reader and sunshine!spencer my fav trope <333 confident reader, reader makes the first move, spencer being a bbg and blushing a lot ;)) all the good stuff

word count: 2.7k

you arrived at the theater ten minutes early, bee-lined to the popcorn section and asked for extra butter. you loaded your oily popcorn up with coffee caramels and chocolate-covered coffee beans and bought a large coke. you walked in the theater, confident and fully armed with enough caffeine to hopefully keep you awake during the entire thing. you have tape in your bag to peel your eyes open just in case things go south, but you're confident enough to believe that it won't.

because it can't.

"aelita," your professor had said on friday, "is a russian phenomenon, and it is one of my top favorite films. considering how you are all in a russian literature class, i can make the safe assumption that you are all interested in russian culture."

now, not only were you in a russian literature class as an elective like two-thirds of your class, you were also a russian literature and poetry major. how you ended with that major baffles you and there hasn't been a day where you wanted to choose another major, but there hasn't been a day where you weren't depressed about your poor decision-making either. it's a battle you fight every day.

"aelita was first screened in 1924, and this year, next week, there will be a worldwide re-screening of the film in its originality, no edits, completely authentic, except with added subtitles for those who need it, of course," this was when your professor got very stern. "i want all of you to go and watch it. if you don't want to, fine, but there will be an assessment grade on this movie. this is not optional. i believe that the content of this movie is very true to our..."

at that point you had stopped listening, because you knew what your professor wanted you to do, and you dreaded doing it.

two hours, silent, black and white, russian film with subtitles. and you have to hang onto the movie's every word.

not your ideal saturday night plans, but for your academic career, you were willing to take that leap; looking like a sore loser at the empty theater with black framed glasses on instead of getting fucked up in someone's bathtub. it's fine. the partying was all up to the business majors anyway.

when you walked into the theater, it was, understandably, vacant, save for a couple men and women with graying hair or bald scalps and bad backs. you were clearly not the target audience. none of them had snacks on them either, and you felt awkward being the one responsible for the strong aroma of butter and coffee that stuffed the place the moment you walked in. a gentleman coughed in his hanker-chief and flared his nostrils. you were intimidated already.

you tracked down your seat and decided to not let any of it distract you. you needed a good grade on this assessment. you had already bombed your previous test on the imperial era; you don't need another bad grade stacked on top of it. you're acing this test, no matter what, and you're going to absorb this movie so well that it might as well be your favorite.

as you waited for the film to start, you munched on several of the coffee caramels, the caffeine slow to kick in. you shrugged it off. there's a whole bucket of sugar to fuel you through the film.

in midst of biting into a shelf of a chocolate-covered-coffee-bean, you heard a light thud and a hiss, and the quiet muttering of "i'm good, ow." an old man by the stairs called out;

"you alright, son?"

"yes sir," the man said. despite being alright, he was limping to his seat, and you watched him attentively, for there wasn't much else for you to observe. he limped closer and closer to you by row, ticket in his hand and checking the letters on the rows. he stopped at your row, and then walked crookedly and settled down in the seat right next to you.

you chewed on your popcorn as you directed your attention somewhere else, your determination slightly deflated. the film was late into starting, but you were still going strong.

"oh wow," you heard the man mumbled next to you, and looked over to see what he was talking about, nosy. but he was looking at you.

"what?" you said indignantly, immediately dropping the oily popcorn in your hand and wiping at your mouth, feeling oddly self-conscious. but mostly irritated. you'd say you hid your whiplash pretty well when you saw how pretty the man was when you looked over at him. you were so smooth with it. "chocolate on my face?"

"what? oh, no," the man breathed out a small laugh. he's got a soft, shy voice that got your insides feeling like broken tomato bits.

"then what?" you demanded, but not too authoritatively because you didn't want to chase him away. you kept it cool and in control. totally. it was hard to find eye candy in quantico, and the last place you would expect to find someone so pretty is in the theater for a fucking silent film.

even though it was dark, you could still catch the bright blush that crept up the man's neck, but it might be because he felt hot under all those layers. seriously, he was dressed like your grandpa, sweater vest, tie, collared shirt and all, but it was tied together in some kind of way that made it work, and it was the way the man carried himself that made him look youthful in all those ancient clothing.

"nothing," he ducked his head away, "i was just talking out loud."

you didn't have to be sherlock holmes to know that he was lying. "you liar," you accused, wiping your hand even more aggressively over your face. "i do have something on my face, don't i? just tell me if i do!"

"you don't have anything on your face!" he said, an indecisive and uncracked smile playing on his lips. you grumbled and turned back to look at the screen, still waiting for the film to start, popping candy in your mouth. in was silent for a merciful while, until the man said, "did you know that dmitri shostakovich conducted the music for this film and during its first showings in leningrad since the film was silent he came personally and played the piano whenever the soundtrack would be playing?"

you hummed. no you did not.

"i was surprised when i saw you, you don't look over sixty at all," the man continued. you didn't know how to take this piece of information as a compliment or an insult. "whenever i come to these things, it's only me who doesn't have grey hair. well, some people dye it, which looks pretty obvious because you can't really hide age, y'know?"

usually you'd be annoyed. very annoyed, in fact, you'd switch seats to be away from the guy. but this one's got a nice voice, and the moment he sat down you caught a scent to him immediately, that old cashmere and cotton scent that comes from old, thrifted clothes that you'll find dug deep somewhere in your grandmother's basement or in vintage stores, and sugar cookies and mint and coffee. it's a good smell, is all. you weren't being creepy about it.

"i'm not over sixty," you assured him. "just scraping twenty-two."

"oh! i'm twenty-two too!" the man said excitedly. he had child's glee to him, which you found more endearing than annoying. you didn't know why. you didn't know why you were still sitting with the man instead of scurrying three rows away like you would have normally the moment any stranger tried to attempt small talk with you.

maybe you were a changed woman.

"how crazy," you mused. you didn't sound half as interested or excited as the man did, but he had most definitely got your undivided attention. you nature tells you to not show it.

"how did you hear about this movie? i tried to get some of my friends to watch it with me, but none of them were too interested...except emily, she's usually more interested because she can speak russian but she got plans this weekend," his face fell into a thoughtful frown at the end, and the clockwork in your brain started to turn at the mention of 'emily.' was that his girlfriend? special lady? you shouldn't be googling, then.

"my professor created an assessment for this movie," at the man's inquiring look, you explained further, "it's for my russian lit class."

his eyes shone like a fucking diamond at that, as if russian lit was the most exciting thing he had ever heard of in his life. you could tell that you were looking at the kind of guy who would decline a party full of seniors to go read a dictionary at home. "is that like an elective you take? 'cause it's a subject that fascinates me a lot, but the demand for it is so slim that--"

he was cut off by the movie finally starting and flickering to life. you turned away immediately, eyes focused and attention zeroed onto the introduction screen. screw the pretty boy for now, you thought, you might as well pack your things and go back to your hometown if you fuck up this movie's assessment. it needed your attention.

black and white and grimy, a pretty font wrote 'aelita, adapted by alexei tolstoy.' but as soon as the film started, the picture quickly collapsed, blurring and then fading into black. with the audience being so small, there wasn't much commotion but whispers of confusion began to arise as the lights began to bleed more yellow, lighting up the theater more. it was as if the movie was over.

"sorry folks," a voice came from the grainy megaphone above all of them. "some trouble with the tape. we are trying our best, but not sure of our luck. all tickets will be refunded if bought online or you bring your ticket to us for a mark so you can present your current ticket right now at the next showing. thanks for your patience."

you looked exaggeratedly around, and the man in the sweater vest next to you looked equally as disappointed.

"my professor is not going to believe me," you muttered under your breath, but the man caught it anyway and chuckled quietly. you looked down at your still full bucket of popcorn and your large coke. you glanced over to the man next to you, not too smart things lottering around in your head. you travel through the subway, and the ride to your street is not until two hours. you weren't going to spend it morosely eating popcorn in the waiting lobby.

"is emily your girlfriend?" you asked suddenly. there was no point in being shy. the man's mouth unhinged from his jaw immediately, and you stared at him. his cheeks quickly stained an innocent pink.

"what?" he squeaked, his voice a higher pitch, caught off-guard. "no! no, she-she's my coworker!" he sounded almost offended.

this took you by surprise. you didn't know people who were close to their coworkers existed. "so you don't have a girlfriend?"

the blush on the man's face kept getting brighter and brighter. you bit your lip to keep from smiling like a fool. with how endeared you were by him, it's strange to think that you don't even know his name yet. it was rare for you to really be so mindful and think such soft things about somebody, especially to a stranger.

you were a changed woman. but maybe it's because of the coffee caramels messing with your head. sugar and caffeine tend to do that.

"no," the man said, then cleared his throat. he was fiddling with his fingers, an obvious stim. "no, i don't have a girlfriend."

"sweet," you grinned, "then no one would mind if i take you on a date, would they?"

he choked and got engulfed in a coughing fit, bending over in his seat. the red of his sweater vest nearly blinded you but you patted his back supportively. when his coughing ceased and he sat back up again, his eyes avoided yours for a while as he fought to keep the redness in his face down before he looked at you again.

"so?" you raised your eyebrow. "the night doesn't wait, pretty boy."

the nickname just slipped out of your mouth, and you cringed at the weight of it. how out of pocket. you were going to go home and contemplate this conversation later. but right now, you were trying to take out probably the sweetest looking boy you've ever seen, and that was a more important matter as of.

"okay," he said, and that was that.

"okay," you repeated. "let's start with finishing this, yeah?" you looked down at your bothersomely big bucket of popcorn. "we can walk to the park and eat it and feed it to the ducks."

"actually, it's not safe for ducks to consume popcorn because it causes digestive issues especially if consumed in large quantities and disrupts their natural diet," the man recited matter-of-factly, blinking at you obliviously as if he just didn't acted like a fucking android. you huffed out a laugh. handsome and smart. pretty much a package deal.

"the popcorn will be just for us then," you promised, standing up. he followed suit, as a lone line of people started to exit the theater. "i hope you aren't a serial killer in disguise," you said jokingly, but not really, because that was a genuine threat. he laughed. it was a sweet, syrupy sound that you could soak up and not get sick of for a long time.

"that's ironic," he mumbled, and it flew past your head, you being too busy maneuvering out of the rows.

"what was that?"

"nothing," he smiled, bright and easy. the initial nervousness was already beginning to melt away. when you were side by side, his hand accidentally brushed yours and when you looked up at him, he was already looking another way, pretending to be distracted by the movie posters but the red in his ears and neck gave it away. you smiled to yourself and grabbed his hand, holding your bucket of popcorn in the other.

"i forgot," you said, suddenly. his head whipped around to face you, but not before lingering his gaze at your intertwined hands. "i didn't get your name."

it was a foolish thing to say, you were holding a man's hand and you were pressed up side-by-side against him and you don't even know his name. he smiled softly, though, like he didn't mind. "i'm spencer reid."

"i'm y/n y/l/n."

"hi y/n," spencer said. you exited the theater and he started slightly swinging your joined hands. you laughed, the popcorn and candy in the bucket rattling and threatening to spill but you didn't care. "i'm a little disappointed," he said, pouting a little bit, bottom lip jutting out. "i was excited for the movie."

you breathed out an incredulous laugh. what a guy.

"i wasn't," you said, honestly. yours and spencer's arms were still swinging, and you resisted the uncharacteristic giggle bubbling at your throat. "rather be doing this instead." unexpected date at the park with a pretty boy in a red sweater vest or a boring silent film? the answer sounded pretty obvious to you.

"hm," spencer hummed, amused. "i guess i can catch the movie some other time."

"you can catch it with me," you blurted, and it sounded too early to say. you haven't had a proper conversation with the guy yet, you didn't know what he does and how he is, you didn't know whether or not he has a cat or a dog or a parrot or a ferret or if his room is kept tidy or messy, and you didn't know how much you were going to like him once the night is over. asking for a second date when the first one hadn't even started felt like too much, but it also felt like the right thing to say.

and if it's right, it's good enough for you.

spencer smiled shyly. when you turned right on the street, he pulled you back by your hand and redirected you left. "let's go the scenic route," he said, casually, and you could tell by the magenta tinge in his cheeks and the way he was firmly looking forward, avoiding your eyes that he wasn't feeling as casual as he sounded.

"want some of my popcorn?" you offered, feeling the large bucket was burdening you.

"oh, no thanks," spencer said. "i'm sure the pigeons will appreciate it more than me."

"does popcorn ruin their digestive system and disrupt their natural diet, too?"

spencer popped a large grin. it sat beautiful on his pretty face. "you listened," he said happily, and it felt like a large airbag had just inflated in your lungs. "no, i think pigeons are too used to picking our food, especially those in the city," a long pause, and "in fact, pigeons have a stronger digestive system than most birds due to adaptation, but the strongest out of all of them are vultures, whose stomach acid are so strong it doesn't get sick e eating rotten and bacteria-infested meats."

you hummed. you wished you had paid closer attention to what he said, but instead you paid attention to the smooth sound of his voice and how nice it sounded. well. you'll get there one day.

#i didnt mean to finish this that quick but i just saw the prompt and got so inspired i went a lil crazy #mentioningmargins #spencer reid #criminal minds #cm #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #fluff #meet cute #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fic #my works

[amhrosina]

frank with reader who’s really touchy and loves to touch frank and after a bad mission he snaps at her and she knows it’s because of what happened that night not her but she still feels really bad and distances herself

A/N: hey bestie i got this ask and felt so inspired that i wrote 90% of it in my free time at work today. fastest turn around time ever??? don't get used to it lol i hope you enjoy!!

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

Frank knew he had fucked up the second the words left his mouth. He watched the words hit you, watched you process the rage induced slip-up that had forced its way out of his mouth – the way you recoiled your hand from his skin and stumbled over yourself to move away from him. It made him sick. Guilt coiled in his stomach, and before he could apologize, or say anything at all, you turned and left the room, mumbling an apology under your breath.  

Frank couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong. He’d never snapped at you before tonight and was almost as shocked as you were when the words tumbled out of his mouth.  

“Stop fucking touching me. I said I’m fucking fine.”

Regret gnawed at his stomach, and if he wasn’t bleeding so hard out of the wound on his arm, he would’ve followed you out of the bathroom, dropped to his knees, and begged your forgiveness. But blood was hard to get out of carpet, and he didn’t want you upset about two things tonight. 

So he stitched himself up, and wondered where you were in the apartment, and hoped to God you weren’t somewhere crying. The tears, your tears, he realized, were his least favorite thing in the world, especially if he was the cause of them. He’d rip any fucker who made you cry in half, a promise he’d made good on multiple times, but he hadn’t accounted for the tears he, himself would cause. The guilt overwhelming his senses were doing the job for him anyways – the longer he waited to confront you, the more he felt like an absolute asshole.  

He tested the durability of the dressing on the wound, winding his arm around until he winced. A sharp pain clanged through the left side of his body, and though it made him grimace, he sat with the pain for a moment – let it ground him so that the stress of the evening could leave him. Pain usually sharpened his senses and made him feel more at home in his body. Tonight, it only unsettled him more. 

He wondered if he screwed it up with you for good. You’d worked through a lot of things with Frank, but never this, and the idea of you leaving before he could even try to make things right targeted the urgency in him. He stalked to the door and began his search. 

-  

The hard brick dug into your back as you sat down, and for the third time in half a minute, you questioned your decision to clamber out the window and climb to the roof. You didn’t mean to leave so quickly, but the idea of pacing around the apartment listening to Frank grunt his way through stitches made it hard to breathe, so you did the next best thing – aka the roof.  

You didn’t even need time to think the encounter with Frank over. You knew why he’d said it and what he’d been through tonight, but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest from blooming. It also didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes. You had tried to blink them away, but the more you tried to ignore them, the more your vision blurred. 

You’d always been a touchy person, though it had never been quite as present as it was when you were near Frank. When you first met him, you’d been so drawn to his charming aura that you hadn’t realized you’d been shaking his hand for at least 45 seconds. He hadn’t said anything – just kept watching you watch him with a soft smile on his face.  

And the rest was history. You spent the entire first weekend after you met wrapped in each other’s arms, fucking on every available surface in your apartment. You didn’t quite understand why you felt the desire to be constantly touching him, but he didn’t complain and allowed you to give in to your desires as often as you wanted to. You had mentioned to him early on in your relationship that he could tell you to stop if he needed his space, but he’d never asked you to stop.  

Until tonight. 

And you respected it. You did what he asked. You “stopped fucking touching” him as soon as the words had left his mouth, and maybe it hurt your feelings, but you weren’t going to push that on him. If he wanted you to stop touching him, you would, even if it carved a deep, cavernous hole in your heart.  

“Sweetheart?” 

Your heart seized, and you jumped at Frank’s sudden appearance.  

“Hey.” You mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. “How’d you find me?” 

“I worry about you too much not to be able to find you.” You quirked an eyebrow at him, unable to resist looking at him any longer, and he shrugged. “You left the window to the fire escape open. Can I sit?”  

You shuffled to the side, allowing him the space to sit down, though you were careful not to let your skin brush against his. Frank let out a choked scoff and pressed his leg against yours. You turned to him, brows furrowed. 

“I thought you didn’t want me touching you.”  

And yeah, maybe you threw the words in his face to make him feel a little worse, but he was cracking jokes after snapping at you, and you couldn’t help the bite in your tone - didn’t want to help the bite in your tone. 

He shook his head, expression turning grave.  

“Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”  

“You said it, though.” 

“I know.” He nodded. “I know.”  

You watched him take in your features – the swollen cheeks from the few tears that slipped earlier, the wildness of your hair after one too many run-throughs with your fingers, the way you could barely look at him before turning away again. 

“I was just trying to help you.” Your eyes crinkled at the thought of him snapping at you again.  

He nodded, cradling your face in his palms. 

“I’m an asshole, baby.” His voice cracked, “I never want you to stop touching me. I love it – I love you – and I’m sorry.” 

You gaped up at him, at the desperate expression on his face. A fresh wave of tears pricked at the back of your eyes. You gnawed at your bottom lip, unsure what to say. 

“Don’t cry, baby.” He shook his head, wiping your tears away with the soft pads of his thumbs, “Please don’t cry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

You sniffled, nodding. He’d groveled enough, and you weren’t entirely sure you knew how to stay upset with him for longer than 10 minutes.

“Did you tie the stitch off correctly?” you asked, nodding to the injury that was now covered with gauze. 

“Of course.” Frank nodded. You narrowed your eyes at his nonchalant tone. 

“Are you sure?”  

“No.” He huffed a laugh and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek.  

“Why not?” You giggled, swatting him away. 

“Because if this didn’t work, I was going to complain about my awful stitches later and hope my muscles would entice you to forgive me.”  

He smirked, and laughter bubbled out of you from deep in your chest. You climbed to your feet, holding your hands out toward him. 

“Okay, Mr. Muscles, let me fix it before it really does get uncomfortable.” 

He rose to his feet, using the leverage from your hold on his hands to pull you against his chest.  

“I’m sorry,” he paused, “again.”  

“I know, Frankie.” You murmured, pressing a kiss to his nose. 

“I love you.” he added, smiling. 

“Shut up and kiss me, muscles.”  

Tag List:

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#frank castle #frank castle angst #frank castle imagine #frank castle x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x you #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fluff #the punisher angst #jon bernthal #marvel #marvel imagine #the punisher imagine #frank castle oneshot #the punisher x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel angst #marvel fluff #requested #amhrosina

[forestshadow-wolf]

It's raining, ghost idly notes. Technically he should be focusing on the field briefing that they're getting, but they'd already gooten one when assigned, one before they left base, and one on the plane ride here. So really, they're just talking in cirlces now.

Price is at the front of the table explaining the plan, which they have to wait four hours to even begin acting on, standing next to the open laptop showing all the documents they need.

Gaz is trying very poorly to act like he's listening. Poorly because he's been flicking wadded up pieces of paper at price (who is ignoring it pretty well)

Ghost usually doesn't sit during briefings, he gets distracted, so he takes up a spot by the wall.

But soap, uncharacteristically is also leaning up against the wall next to him. Usually he playing footsies.with gaz across the table, but not today.

Price is still droning on about the mission blah blah blah, ok well not blah blah blah but it's nothing he hasn't already memorized.

He watches soap squeeze tightly at his knee again, for the third time in the last 20 minutes, as far as he cam reach without making it obvious. Ghost also notes that he's stiffer than usual.

He leans into soap's space just a bit, "you 'kay?" He whispers. Soap nods almost imperceptibly.

"Yeah, why?" He hisses.

"It's just... you know you can sit down right?" He says, gesturing slightly to the 3 open chairs at the table. One of which would normally be occupied by a certain scot anyway.

"Yea- I knoe tha', I chose to stand for a reason."

"Well- I was jus' sayin', ya look uncomfortable, s' all."

"I am, tha's why I'm standing."

"Yeah, 'cus that makes sense-"

"Are you two done arguing yet?" Price cuts in. Soap looks just as chastised as Ghost feels, which... is really only enough to fake it.

"Yes, sir." They both respond, and peice goes back to his rambling.

The meeting ends soon enough, and they're finally released to get ready or whatever they need to do.

"You sure you’re okay, johnny?" Ghost catches a stiff legged soap just before he leaves.

"Aye, s' rain s'all" Ghost isn't really sure what that has to do with anything, and he says as much. "I fucked up my knee a few years ago, it's fine now, the rain just makes it act up a little. Something Something low pressure atmosphere, basic science, I think."

"Okay, well you know you could sit down. Would probably help." Ghost suggests... again

"Yeah and I'll not stand up again, not with this wanker" soap snorts at him, referring to his knee. Ghost frowns.

"Well... anything I can do to help?", soap shifts from one foot to the other.

"Not unless you got me some new knees. It's fine, Ghost, I'm still mission ready if that's what you're worried about. I actually had to redo the fitness tests once I healed up just to make sure I could still do my job."

"..."

"What?" Soap shifts hsi weight again

"... that's really.. not what I was asking about."

"Aye, well- what do you brits say- 'cheers, mate' I'm fine. Swear it."

"And that's why you're limping around?" Sure, maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but it's not technically inaccurate.

"I'm no' 'limping' around, and even if I was it's hardly noticeable. Why do you even care so much, it's no' you're problem." Soap sasses back.

"Well, I'd like to help if I can-"

"How? You gonna shout it outta me? There ain't shite you can do for it. Just leave it be, aye?"

"... fine, but I can help if you let me."

"Aye, I'll keep that in mind, thanks." And then he was walking away, off to do whatever he need to do before their mission.

Ghost makes a note to himself to ask about it again after they're back on base.

#john soap mactavish #soap's bad knee #knee problems #weather induced knee problems #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #el rambles

[marzmeltdown]

Show Me Your God

⌦ Pairing: Demon!Hyunjin x FEM!Reader ⌦ Genre(s): smut ⌦ Warning(s): pet names (hyunjin: ,, reader: angel,, princess,, darling,, ),, religious themes(??),, throat fucking,, rough sex,, hair pulling,, dacryphilia,, dirty talk,, praise,, minor fluff,, oral (m + f receiving),, edging,, spanking,, swearing,, overstimulation,, unprotected sex (be smart),, creamepie,, slight pinning,, choking,, fingering,, ⌦ Word count: 2.18k ⌦ Summary: You were used to being on your knees, though in the biblical sense, sighting your nightly prayers and what not. Recently, however, your knees have been on the floor for a completely different, sinful reason. ⌦ A/N: Listening to Werewolf by Motionless in White truly was a great song to write this fic to. um,, this was written partly for my own delusions if I'm being 100% honest. If there's anything you feel I should improve on in the future, don't hesitate to let me know! You can find progress updates on this story and everything else I write in my pinned post every Wednesday.:)

⌦ marz’s tag list ⌦ marz’s req form

You were used to being on your knees, though in the biblical sense, sighting your nightly prayers and what not.

It all started one night on your way home from your church's weekly nightly sermon. Though night sermons were typically held for those who could not make it to regular church services or for those who needed a warm place to stay for a few hours to combat the cold winters that swept through town, you always showed up.

He seemed to take pleasure in testing your faith each night since then; it was as if the devil himself sent the man to come and taint your once pure mind. He reached places you never knew were possible and put you in positions you were sure you would have never been able to do yourself.

But tonight. Tonight was different.

You couldn't shake the feeling that he had something sinister going on in that devilish mind of his. He was rough, messy, and held a cocky grin each time that cross necklace that never left your neck glistened in the light.

He took full pleasure in forcing gags from your throat with just his cock alone; the way you looked beneath him was truly a work of art. His hand gripped your hair at the root as his hips thrust into your face with such force that you were sure you'd have bruises around your mouth by the morning.

"You look so good like this, angel; on your knees for me with my cock down your throat," Hyunjin said, wrapping your hair around his hand in attempts to pull you closer to him. You whimpered in response to his praise, and the vibrations from your whimper shot up the demon's spine, causing his head to lull back in pleasure.

Your throat felt raw from how long his cock was being shoved down your throat. The only sounds coming from your mouth were the lewd sounds of your spit being churned in your mouth, and the gags being forced out of you with each harsh thrust sounded like music to Hyunjin's ears. You could feel the stickiness of your saliva mixed with tears running down your body.

His hips began to stutter as his orgasm pushed closer, and the whimpers that started to fall from his mouth went straight to your core, causing you to rub your thighs together. The friction you created with your thighs did little to appease your neglected cunt.

He thrust one, two, three more times. On the third thrust, hold your head still at the base, your nose brushing up against his pelvic bone. The two of you maintained eye contact as his cock twitched against your tongue and his cum shot down your throat, forcing you to swallow every drop.

He held your head in place for a few more seconds, catching his breath, before he let you pull away. He looked spent, and your jaw was on fire, but you knew that you were just getting started with your eventful night.

Your head fell forward as you took in as many deep breaths as you could. Hyunjin reached down to take hold of your hair once more, pulling your head up so you two were now face-to-face. "Don't tap out on me now, princess; we're just getting started," he said.

"I know, I just need a second to breathe," you replied, your voice hoarse from the harsh fucking it just received a moment ago. He kneeled down, placing a small kiss on your forehead.

Despite being rough in every sense of the word, he always made sure you were okay. He wouldn't continue until you gave him the okay to do so. The small gestures of kindness were short, almost nonexistent, but every time they do arise, you can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

He sat on the floor next to you, placing soft kisses on your head and stroking your hair soothingly. It didn't take long for you to recover; you just needed to gather your breath anyway—nothing too drastic.

You were quickly bent over the edge of the bed, Hyunjin's face buried deep into your cunt as soon as you gave the okay. The way his tongue expertly ran through your folds, teased your hole with his tongue, and sucked at your clit had you seeing stars.

He had one of your legs propped up on the bed to give him more room, and your moans grew louder with each poke and prod of his tongue throughout your pussy. A wanton moan leaving your lips once Hyunjin's fingers slipped inside your heat. He pumped his fingers in and out of your hole, curling his fingers up to hit that sweet spot inside your walls that had your head spinning.

"F-Fuck!" You whined, gripping at the sheets to ground yourself from the intense pleasure you were receiving from his mouth and fingers alone. Your walls clenched around his fingers, pulling a groan from Hyunjin at the feeling of your tight walls sucking his fingers further inside of you.

"Such a dirty mouth for such a pretty girl; you'll have to beg for forgiveness in confession," Hyunjin teased. The way he spoke about how dirty his precious church mouse was pushed you closer to the edge.

"Hyu- dear God! I'm close!" You cried, and Hyunjin chuckled softly as he pulled away. The immediate loss of attention to your cunt caused you to whine and look back at the demon who took your pleas to the Lord above while he was pleasing you as an ego boost.

He stood, lining himself up with your heat, though he didn't thrust in. Instead, he teased your hole with the tip of his cock, forcing more whines to fall from your saliva-soaked lips.

"Use your words, princess," he simply said; he spoke as if the sight of you writhing beneath him didn't have him leaking. You were growing impatient with his teasing, and your hips pushed back against his cock before you had time to think about it.

That action rewarded you with two reactions from your lover, one being a soft groan and the other landed a harsh smack against your ass. You yelped at the punishment, jumping forward in shock as your brain registered the stinging pain you had just received from Hyunjin's spanking.

"Please, Hyunjin.." You whined, looking over your shoulder to make eye contact with the man behind you. He resumed teasing your cunt, watching as you bit your lip to suppress a whine from escaping your lips.

"Please what, darling?" He asked, letting the tip of his cock slide into your cunt.

"Fuck me, please, Hyunjin," you begged.

He thrust his hips into you in one full motion, barely giving you time to adjust. The tear of his rough entry was more pleasurable than waiting for your okay. You moaned loudly as he bottomed out. Hyunjin had one hand against your neck, pressing your head into the bed, while the other held onto your hip to keep you from squirming.

His thrusts were fast and sharp, hitting your cervix with every thrust while simultaneously digging his nails into your neck. His eyes were focused on how his cock disappeared so quickly and then reappeared just as quickly. You were sure your walls were somehow molded to fit his cock perfectly—not that it was physically possible, of course.

You were on cloud nine, almost missing how he pulled you up by the hair so your back was flush with his chest. The hand that was holding your hip previously was now rubbing harsh circles into your clit, with his other hand gripping your neck. You were so cock drunk that your head lulled back and rested itself on his shoulder as your hands found themselves tangled in his hair. You bit your lip in an attempt to lessen the volume of your screams, but that was only presented with a harsh pinch to your nipple.

You let out a yelp of both pain and pleasure, your hands tugging so ruthlessly on his hair that his head was pulled back with it.

"Let me hear you, precious. Let God hear you," he growled into your ear. The snapping of his hips only became tougher the longer he fucked himself into you.

"Feels so good.. Feels so-…" You cried out, tears falling from your eyes as you rambled on about how good his dick felt inside you, how big and thick his cock was, and all the lewd descriptors that would make your local nunnery faint.

The cord in your stomach began to twist and turn again, faster this time from Hyunjin's relentless beatings to your pussy and his fingers harsh figure eights against your clit. You weren't sure where his obsession with bringing the Lord into your sexual escapades came from, but you weren't objecting at all for reasons you couldn't quite pinpoint.

"H-Hyunjin! Im gonna-" You sobbed, too far gone to even finish the sentence, but Hyunjin knew what you were trying to tell him. He could feel it in the way your walls were sucking him in, holding his cock captive inside the warm and wet paradise that was your pussy.

"Go ahead, princess," he whispered into your ear. That was all you needed to hear before the dam finally broke. Hyunjin's hand did not once falter from abusing your cunt as your cum soaked his hand, your legs, and the mattress beneath you.

The moan you let out when you squirted all over your lover's hand could only be compared to an animal howling at the moon. The demon's hand did not stop attacking that bundle of nerves that seemed so hard yet so easy for the male species to find. The tears streaming from your face thickened as overstimulation began to set in. Hyunjin held you up by your throat when your legs began to shake; the growling in your ear almost overpowered the pain you were slowly beginning to feel.

"Hyunjin, please!" You sobbed once more. Despite your nerves being on fire, you couldn't help but want him to continue.

"My angel did so well for me; do you think you can do it again?" He asked, and instinctively, you nodded. Hyunjin could make you squirt 5–6 times before he had to cum a second time, and the way he beat your pussy felt like he was angry at times. And you'd be lying to say you didn't enjoy it.

"C-Can we cum together?" You managed to ask through your sobs of pleasure, and he chuckled softly at the request. He could feel the cord in his own stomach twisting and turning; the sight of you glistening with your own juices and still having the energy to continue turned him on more than any piece of lingerie could.

"Of course, princess," he said. He moved the hand that was around your throat to force his middle and ring fingers into your mouth as his other hand rubbed circles into your clit until you were cumming down your leg again.

You let out a moan that had to have come from the bottom of your chest with how powerful it was. Watching as your body writhed with pleasure as he fucked you through your orgasm was enough to send him over the edge a second time.

It started with a few twitches of his cock before he was filling you with what felt like more cum than what he had forced you to swallow earlier in the night. You whimpered when his hand left your clit to aid the hand around your chin in holding you up, as your legs were effectively spent from the harsh beating your pussy had just endured.

"You did so well for me, baby girl, so well." He said this as he thrust his cum back inside of you whenever it threatened to leave your hole alongside your arousal and run down his balls. He pulled his fingers from your mouth as he kissed your sweat-soaked temple.

"Thank you, Hyunjin," you said; your voice was long gone by this point.

"Look at this mess you made," he said, still thrusting into your cunt shallowly, more so to make sure every drop of his cum stays inside your cunt rather than arousing you again. You blushed as you looked at the soaked spot on the bed.

"Can we lie like this for a little while? I don't want you to pull out yet." You asked, and he only shook his head as he pulled out and gently laid you on the bed.

"After I clean you up, princess, I don't want you to get sick from cockwarming right after sex," he said as he kissed your forehead.

You whined in protest but accepted it, and you liked it when he was soft after the fact. Emotionally, not physically, of course. He always cleaned you up with a warm towel, clothed you, changed your sheets, gave you water, and then laid in bed with you until you fell asleep.

#kpop fanfic #straykids fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #hyunjin #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x oc #smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids #bang chan #changbin #skz x reader #skz #han jisung #seungmin #lee know #lee felix #jeongin skz

[torturedpoetemotions]

I'm rewatching the 3x10 fight scene and I can't tell if my third eye is WIDE open or of I'm just loopy from pain and lack of sleep but.

Nandor is SO calculating in this scene. Like I know it's somewhat left open to interpretation whether the invitation was a spur of the moment thing or not, but I actually think I'm now firmly on the side of it WAS a real test and it WAS premeditated.

Because like. Nandor is thoughtless, yeah. But the stuff he says to Memo when he walks in isn't just thoughtless. It is TARGETED. Every single thing he says from the moment he walks into that room AND the way he says it is tailored to press on Guillermo's sore spots and piss him right the fuck off. And there has to be a purpose to that, because Nandor is thoughtless but he's not cruel, not that kind of cruel anyway.

And then there's his face when he's facing away from Guillermo, when Guillermo is giving him the "I let you live" speech. When Nandor is looking at Guillermo before and after that, his face is lightly amused. Condescending, a little indulgent maybe. Pitying, at the end. But when he's facing away from Guillermo? That entire performance falls away and THIS is what we see:

Nandor isn't amused. He isn't humoring Guillermo or ignoring him, either, though that's clearly what the turned back is meant to convey to Guillermo.

No. That face is CALCULATING. He's listening. He's waiting. He's seeing how far he has to push Guillermo to get what he wants out of him.

I wish I could get good shots that weren't just goofy-looking of all the shifts in his expression here--I simply do not have HQ enough video for that. But the shift in his expression just before he turns back to Guillermo and puts the condescending mask back on is SO telling. It's an aha moment.

And when Guillermo has him on his knees in that headlock? I know we've all looked at that moment a thousand times but

Nandor is delighted with this turn of events (and yes I used the moment when Guillermo is saying the W in "weak" because it looks like he's giving Nandor's cheek a lil smooch lmao).

Ahem. The point is, I no longer believe Nandor was just saving his own ass or coming up with spur of the moment plans--though I DO think he was (pleasantly) surprised by how evenly matched he and Guillermo actually were (even if he'd never, ever admit it). He went into that room with the strategic wheels turning and got everything he wanted out of that interaction.

Fucking guy.

#wwdits #wwdits 3x10 #nandor the relentless #wwdits meta #nandermo #my meta

[galexystern]

saving all my love for you

pairing; steve harrington/reader

rating; T

warnings; angst, fluff, mutual pining, not actually unrequited love, love confessions, accidental love confessions, getting together, no use of y/n, steve calls reader "peach"

word count; 5.2k

desc; “Um,” someone who doesn’t sound at all like Beth and a whole lot like Steve says. “Peach?”

You freeze, complete and utter dread filling your body. You slowly lower the phone and look at the caller ID. Staring back at you, in all caps, is the name Steve Harrington.

read on ao3 / masterlist

"Will you please, for the love of god," Beth interrupts your rambling, "either tell him all this or shut the fuck up?"

You close your mouth and look at her with a disgruntled pout.

She sighs. "Sorry, that was mean." You shrug. "I'm just trying to study and you know how important it is I do well on this test." You don't want to, but eventually nod a little. You do know. "I love you," she reassures, "and you know I'm always here to listen, but you do realize this is all starting to sound a bit...pathetic?" She says it not unkindly, with gentle eyes.

Your shoulders droop. It doesn't sound a bit pathetic, it sounds a lot pathetic. You've been complaining to Beth that you've been in love with Steve Harrington for oh...nine years now? Wow, it's been that long? You wince at the thought, and Beth rubs your shoulder soothingly.

It's not your fault you've been in love with Steve Harrington for nine years. He's the one who defended you from bullies in third grade, getting back the peach they'd stolen from your lunch. He's the one who gave it back to you with that sweet smile and hair that had just started growing into the luscious mane it is now. He's the one who became your friend from then on, turning into your closest (male) confidante and staunchest supporter. And he's the one who's been calling you "Peach" since then, making your knees go weak whenever he says it and gives you that smirk.

"I still can't believe you like him, to be honest," Beth says, breaking your reverie. "His King Steve phase was super disturbing."

You roll your eyes. Yes, Steve in his "king of high school" days had been hard to like—the constant rotation of girls he had on his arm, the ragers he threw that always got the cops called on them, the rude and slightly misogynistic behavior that made your skin crawl. But he never directed any of that at you. You were still his Peach, and the Steve you'd known since third grade came back around, complete with apologies and big gestures to make up for his actions. Sure, you'd been a little sad he hadn't wanted you to be on his arm, and you two hadn't been as close during that stage, but it was probably for the better. Being a "hit it and quit it" for the guy you're desperately in love with might've broken your heart for good.

"I can't go over that again with you right now," you reply to Beth. "You've got a test to study for." She gives you an unimpressed look. "And I," you continue, packing up the remains of your lunch, "have a tutoring session to get to."

You stand but Beth grabs your arm, stopping you. "Will you tell him?" She asks, almost pleadingly.

You know she knows the answer to that. You've been trying to tell him for a year now, since you realized high school is ending soon and he'll be gone. You won't see him every day, won't talk to him in classes you have together, certainly won't be tutoring him three times a week. But when you look at those honey-hazel eyes, long lashes brushing against his skin when blinks slowly at you, piercing you with his gaze, you always, without fail, chicken out.

"I'll try," you promise Beth and she half-smiles. It's the best she's gonna get and she knows that too well. She lets go of your arm and you walk towards the building, collecting your thoughts. As you enter and direct yourself to the library, you think maybe today will be the day you confess to Steve. Maybe it's really time. Maybe you can do it.

Opening the library doors, you spot Steve sitting at a table off to the side, daydreaming. He's tapping a pencil against his lips and leaning back in his chair precariously, staring off into space. You try not to smile at how cute he looks, instead staying quiet as you sneak up from the side. You drop your bag moderately loudly on the table and bite your lip to hold back laughter as Steve jolts, making his chair tip back and almost pitching himself backwards, before he catches his balance and sets the chair right again. He gives you a playful glare as you sit down, still trying not to burst out laughing.

"Not nice, Peach," he says petulantly, and you shrug. The nickname has stolen any words you'd had prepared, so you just pull out your calculus textbook and notebook, flipping to a fresh sheet. As Steve does the same, he asks, "And how are you today?"

"Alright," you reply with a small smile. "How are you?"

He makes a face. "I'd be better if I didn't have to worry about math so much." But then he smiles brightly and adds, "But seeing you makes up for it."

Your heart pounds. See, he says things like this that make hope blossom inside you and you think you're finally ready to admit your love for him.

But with the way he's gazing at you, grin on his face, body leaned forward over the table towards you, losing yourself in his eyes, the words die in your throat. He's not for you; you don't deserve him. You're just some girl he'd stood up for one time nine years ago, and he's Steve Harrington, the most eligible bachelor at Hawkins High. He has girls lining up to go out with him and what do you have? A hopeless crush and marching band practice after school.

"Well, with me here, hopefully you won't have to worry about math for much longer," you respond with feigned lightness. He chuckles. "Shall we?"

He nods and you two dive into calculus equations. He's a very diligent pupil, always has been, listening carefully and taking detailed notes. You can tell he really wants to pass this class. He's admitted to you on multiple occasions that he can't wait to get out of Hawkins. When you ask him where he wants to go, he always changes his answer—a little inside joke that makes your stomach thrill. Last time you'd asked he'd said Rome, so he could eat gelato and drink wine every day, and live in an ancient city. He has a soft spot for history.

Out of nowhere, the bell rings, and you and Steve both jump at the sound. You'd been so engrossed in learning math that you hadn't noticed how the time had flown by, an hour passing in what felt like a few minutes.

As you pack up, Steve says, "Hey, Peach." You look up at him. "You busy today?" You open your mouth but he beats you to it. "I know you have band. After that." Closing your mouth, surprised he remembered, you eventually shake your head. "Wanna hang? I've acquired some ah, mood enhancers." At his wink, you snicker.

"Sure," you answer. "I could use a mood change."

Steve smiles. "Great. Our spot? 4pm?" You nod; he nods back. "See you then, Peach."

With that, he gives you a salute and bounds away, out of the library and disappearing into the streaming crowd of students. You follow him, shaking your head.

;

You trample through the underbrush on your way to Skull Rock. Beth had asked if you wanted to hang after practice, to make up for lunch, but you'd blushed and said you were smoking with Steve. She'd given you a coy look and wiggled her eyebrows, making you shove her in embarrassment.

But then she'd gone serious. "It's time, okay?" She'd said. "This is the perfect time for you to confess."

You'd told her earlier that the tutoring session confession had not panned out. Looking at her, understanding the weight she was putting on her words, knowing she only wanted you to be happy, you'd nodded mutely.

"Good. Call me tonight," she'd added. "I wanna hear every detail." You'd promised to call her and given her a hug before parting ways and heading for the forest.

You've always liked walking through the trees to meet Steve, the tiny bursts of light through the foliage spontaneously warming your face. It'd rained last night and so the ground was damp and muddy, but you were wearing your gross pair of sneakers, since the field had been much of the same, so you didn't mind. Your socks were wet but it didn't matter. You were about to see Steve and maybe, hopefully, tell him the truth.

Skull Rock comes into view and a minute later, you could see Steve sitting underneath it. You internally scrunch up in girlish excitement at how he'd brought and spread out a mat for you two to sit on, so you don't get wet from the dirt.

He looks up and spots you, waving. You wave back as you tramp through the last of the growth and reach him. Throwing your bag to the side, you collapse onto the tarp as Steve licks and finishes rolling the joint he'd been working on.

"How was practice, Peach?" He asks.

"Ugh," you reply, and he laughs. "This new show is going to kill me. There are so many movements on the field, I'm not sure if I can remember them all."

"You always do though," he points out. "You get it eventually."

You shrug, hiding your delight that he knows that. He does make a point of watching the halftime shows at the football games and seeing you during third quarter, when the band is allowed to mingle. Of course, he goes to the games no matter what, as a certified sports lover, but still.

"Ready?" He asks, interrupting your thoughts. You nod, and he hands you the joint and lighter. You click it on and hold it up to the end, flaring as you inhale deeply. You hold the smoke in your mouth as you give the joint back to Steve, releasing it into the sky as he copies your actions. He outdoes you by making a ring of smoke out of his exhale, and you roll your eyes.

"Show-off," you mutter.

Steve smirks. "I can teach you, you know. You just always turn me down."

You look at him. You do turn him down each time. You're not even really sure why. You tutor him, why can't he? "Okay," you finally reply. "Teach me."

His eyes light up and he scoots towards you. He starts talking, about technique and mouth shape and how your tongue should be involved, but you're only half-listening. You're too captivated by how animated he is, how excited he seems to be by instructing you in something for a change. There are traces of pride in his voice, and you think he might be pleased at the idea of being so good at something that he can give that to others. He's mentioned that fear before, that he doesn't have anything to offer people, even though you always reassure him he has so much.

"Peach? Wanna try?" Steve asks. You clear your head and take the proffered joint. You inhale and try to do what he's told you, accomplishing a rudimentary half-smoke ring. He claps. "That's it! Now you just need practice."

So you practice. You two wear the joint away attempting more rings, Steve giving you pointers as you go. When the joint is just a nub, you take one last inhale and close your eyes, working hard to take all of his advice and try one last time. Steve makes an excited sound and you open your eyes, seeing a pretty good smoke ring floating away from you.

"You did it!" He exclaims excitedly, as you laugh in delight. "The student has become the master."

"I'm not sure if I'd go that far," you reply, but you're still smiling widely. Steve's face matches.

"Well, I have nothing left to teach you. You've got it now."

"You'll always have stuff to teach me, Steve," you say softly, remembering that fear that plagues him. He looks at you with a grateful expression. "Besides," you continue, "I still don't know how to drive."

"I can't believe you don't know how to drive!" He replies indignantly and you giggle. This is an argument you two have had ever since his parents had given him his BMW and he'd asked if you wanted to drive it. After revealing you didn't have a license, Steve had been properly shocked and bewildered. He's never understood why you don't want to drive.

It's not about not wanting to drive (though driving is scary). It's more about wanting Steve to keep driving you.

"You know how I feel about driving," you say back and he rolls his eyes.

"Driving is not that scary. I promise, Peach." An idea comes to him. "It's just like marching band!" At your raised eyebrow he adds, "Hear me out. You have to remember all the moves the car can do. You have to maneuver so you don't hit anybody else on the road. And it gives you a feeling of control."

You laugh. "You know I don't make up the movements, right?"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever. You know what I mean."

You nod. Trying to stay light, you say, "Maybe you can teach me."

"Yes!" He shouts loudly, startling you. "Sorry. But yes. I can totally teach you how to drive."

"Okay." You're smiling at each other.

"Great," he replies firmly. "It's a date."

The words make you freeze. The small voice in your head that sounds weirdly like Beth is telling you this is the moment. This is your opening. Take it.

"Um, Steve," you start. He hums, still staring at you with kind curiosity. "I, um, I wanted to..." You trail off.

He nods encouragingly. "You wanted to...what?"

But as he gazes at you, the words won't come. You try to force them out, not caring how they come out, just that they do, but there's nothing. Your mouth gapes like a fish. Your throat is dry. And you just...can't.

"I wanted to," you manage with a croak, "thank you. For teaching me how to make a smoke ring."

He sits back and you think you see a flash of disappointment on his face before it's gone. "No problem, Peach. What are friends for?"

You nod miserably. Coward.

;

Steve takes you home. It's quiet in the car, both of you deep in thought. You don't know what Steve is thinking about, but you're admonishing yourself for backing out, again. God, you're such a loser. What will Beth say?

He pulls into your driveway and idles. You get out, thanking him again for the hangout, and he nods amiably. You close the door softly and walk up to your porch, turning around to watch him back out and drive away. You sigh as you unlock the door and go inside.

You put off calling Beth for a while. You know you have to, she's expecting you to, but you want to live in this moment where only you know how much of a chicken you are just a little longer. So you have a snack, and something to drink, and finish your homework. Your parents come home and you help make dinner to distract yourself from the day's humiliating non-events. You push your food around the plate as your parents chatter about work, thankfully not asking you too many questions. The three of you sit and watch TV for a bit, but you don't really see any of it, mind still stuck on Steve.

When your parents give you kisses goodnight and head upstairs for bed, you know it's time to stop procrastinating. You take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and dial.

As soon as the line is picked up, you start talking. "Hey, so I know you said today was the day but I chickened out, again. I know I'm a coward. You were right, it was the perfect time. I mean, Steve asks me to smoke in our spot, just the two of us? What better time to confess my love for him, right? There is no better time, that's the truth. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't make myself speak the words. It's so pathetic, right? Ugh, I can't believe I let that perfect moment pass me by. I'm such a sissy. You don't have to tell me, I already know. I just wanted you to know, since you told me to call. But I can't really handle any scolding, yeah? I know what I did. I know."

There's a lull until...

“Um,” someone who doesn’t sound at all like Beth and a whole lot like Steve says. “Peach?”

You freeze, complete and utter dread filling your body. You slowly lower the phone and look at the caller ID. Staring back at you, in all caps, is the name Steve Harrington.

“Peach?” He says again, distantly. It breaks your trance and you immediately hang up the phone. It starts to ring almost instantly, and you stare at it, brain somehow going a mile a minute and not at all. The rings stop but then start up again. Unable to pick up the phone, you find your hand moving to the telephone jack. As the phone stops and then goes again for the third time, you pull it out of the wall. The noises stop. Silence fills the kitchen. And you finally understand what just happened.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, over and over, still holding the telephone cord, still gazing at the receiver. Your knees start to wobble and so you stumble backwards, grappling for a chair, eventually grazing the back of one and whipping it around so it can catch you before you fall. “What have I done?” You moan, burying your face in your hands and pressing down hard. Maybe when you open your eyes you’ll be in bed and this will just be some bad dream and you won’t have ruined everything. But when you move your hands away, you’re still sitting in the kitchen, phone disconnected, terror gripping you tightly.

Not a dream. You did ruin everything.

Digging for strength, you use it all to rush out of the room and upstairs to your bedroom, where you slam the door closed and pitch yourself onto your bed. What have I done? You ask yourself again. You stare unseeing at your headboard, clutching your pillow, as you helplessly think about what might happen next.

Well, for one, you can bet that Steve’s not your friend anymore. That’s a given. But will he avoid you forever, ignore you in the halls at school, not let your name pass his lips anymore? Or will he make fun of you for your confession, saying that he’d never be with anyone like you in a million years, that he was just friends with you out of pity? Will he tell everyone, spread it around that a loser like you thinks she has a shot with King Steve, let the rumor mill rip you to shreds?

Will you make it out of this? You’re not sure if you can handle any of these outcomes. It’s why you’d chickened out in the first place, why you’ve always chickened out. Maybe you’ll have to change schools or even districts. Oh god, what if you have to move states to get away from the torture of it all?

You’re spiraling further down when there’s a small plinking sound. You stop and listen, and it comes again. A third time and you follow the noise to the window. You watch in wonder as something hits it—a pebble. You hesitantly walk over and peer outside.

Steve is standing below on your front lawn, hand reared back like he’s ready to throw. But when he spots you, he drops the rock and waves. You raise a hand back without thinking, and he motions for you to open your window. As you do, you distantly think that he would be a good charades partner. You slowly poke your head outside.

“Peach!” Steve yells quietly.

“What are you doing?” You ask, stupefied.

“You wouldn’t answer my calls,” he replies.

Dumbly, you say back, “I unplugged the phone.”

“Oh.” He seems thrown by that. “Do you…want me to go then?” It takes a second, but eventually you shake your head. He smiles in relief. “Can we talk?”

“My parents are home,” you answer and Steve’s shoulders fall. “But can you climb a tree?”

“Yeah?” The word is laced with confusion.

You motion to the side of the house and move away from your first window, hoping he’s following. You open the second window, on a different wall, and see Steve below. You point to the tree whose branches extend over the house, one of which comes pretty close to your window. He nods and starts climbing, and you try not to stare at his ass. It takes him almost no time at all to get to the branch and inch down it. When he makes it to the ledge, you hold out a hand haul him inside. It’s not very graceful—he ends up on the floor, but pops up seemingly unharmed.

“Hi,” he says, breathless.

Realizing Steve Harrington is in your room after you’d accidentally confessed your love for him, you can’t move or speak. You just look at him, heart pounding, palms sweaty, eyes wide.

“Peach, about what you said on the phone—“

You interrupt. “Wait.” He dutifully stops talking and looks at you expectantly. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the rest of the plan thought out, so you’re speechless. You’d just wanted to put off the inevitable rejection for just a little longer. “I, um, I’m really sorry. For that. Like…obviously it wasn’t meant for you to hear.” You laugh awkwardly. “Well, it was but not then. But it also wasn’t because I chickened out. And that was meant for Beth. Who I meant to call. And obviously…didn’t.”

There’s silence until Steve asks, “Did you mean it?”

There it is: a way out. An exit ramp, where you laugh and say you didn’t mean it, where you play it off as a joke and go back to being friends. But you can’t make yourself take it. You’ve never lied to Steve, and you don’t want to start now. Not with this.

So you nod and answer, in a small voice, “Yes.”

You close your eyes so you won’t see the look of pity on his face, will only have to listen as he lets you down gently. But then there are hands cupping your cheeks and breaths brushing across your skin and lips pressing against yours. You open your eyes again with a start to find Steve’s in front of you, closed. His hands are on your face. His mouth is on yours.

Steve is kissing you.

You don’t know what to do, how to react, and Steve pulls back. His expression is apologetic and ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I should’ve asked—“

You cut him off by surging forward and kissing him. He’s surprised but regains his presence of mind faster than you had, and his hands go to grab your waist tightly. Yours tangle in his hair, the beautiful hair that you’ve always wanted to run your fingers through, and you marvel at the way Steve’s lips fit against yours, like they were made to. You two kiss until you can’t anymore, both pulling back to breathe in deeply.

Steve is smiling. You know your mouth is hanging open in shock. Thank god it’s already there, because what Steve says next would’ve made it drop.

He says, “I love you too.”

You make a weird sort of noise in your throat and Steve laughs a little. You flush bright red and make your jaw close. “That’s not exactly how I wanted to respond,” you say in embarrassment.

“What did you want to say?”

“Um.” Steve’s eyes are sparkling. It’s distracting. “Uh…why?”

“Because you’re my favorite person in the whole world, Peach.” He says it like it’s obvious. “Because you’re the first person I wanna talk to when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep. Because you teach me so many things and make sure I know I have things to teach you too. Because you’ve always been there for me. Because you’re my dream girl.” He’s looking at you with so much adoration it’s hard not to combust right then and there. “Why do you love me?”

“I’ve loved you since the third grade,” you blurt out. “When you stood up for me. When you first started calling me Peach.”

“Even during King Steve?” He asks tentatively. He doesn’t look away but you can tell he wants to. He doesn’t like to relive it.

You take his hand. “Yes, even then. I knew who you were underneath it all. I knew you would come back. And I was right.”

He chuckles. “You always are,” he murmurs, as if in awe.

“I wasn’t right about this,” you sigh, looking down at your intertwined fingers. “I never in a million years imagined you would love me too.”

Steve makes a soft sound. “I feel like I was so obvious about it. I felt like a lovesick fool who couldn’t stop following you around.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“I never wanted to scare you away. You’re too important to me. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t in my life, Peach. I couldn’t take that chance. I would take you in whatever way you would give me, happily.”

You look back up at him. His face is intense, serious. You kiss him so his expression will clear. “Well,” you say lightly, “now you’ve got me like this forever.”

“Good,” he replies firmly, and tugs you forward into a hug. You wrap your arms around his back and clutch at his shirt. He rests his chin on your head and sighs happily. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

When you whisper back “Me too,” he holds you closer.

;

"Okay, baby. R means reverse, N is neutral, and D is obviously drive. You have to pull the gearshift to the right letter to do what you want. So let's try going backwards, yeah?" Steve asks.

You are in the driver's seat of Steve's BMW, with him in the passenger seat. It's your first driving lesson. You're sitting in the parking lot of the high school, after school so it's devoid of cars and you can't hit any of them. Steve had said that he didn't think you would, but better to be safe than sorry. You agree—you can't afford to replace this BMW if you wreck it.

You nod to Steve's question.

"Great. Foot on the brake," he reminds, and you put your foot on the brake. "Has to be there for the gearshift to work. Okay, pull it to R, angel." You slowly put the car into reverse. "Now, ease up on the brake. Just a little." You do so, and the car starts rolling backwards. Your eyes widen and Steve places his hand on top of yours. "It's okay. Just keep looking in your mirrors. You've got it." You look into the rearview mirror and watch as what's behind you slowly comes closer.

"Good!" Steve encourages. "Let's brake again." You press too hard and you're both jolted forward as the car comes to a screeching halt.

"Sorry," you say quickly, wincing.

But Steve is laughing. "No harm done, sugar. Just maybe brake a little gentler next time."

You nod sheepishly.

"Now, you're not gonna need N like, ever. I'm not even sure what use it has. So let's move on to D."

"That's what she said," you automatically retort, and Steve snorts. You're scared, but not too scared to pass up a chance for a euphemism.

"I walked into that one," he replies, shaking his head fondly. "But, let's drive, shall we, sweetheart?"

"Okay," you say, trying not to let the pet name distract you. He's been expanding his repertoire of them, trying to see which ones fit best. But you like all of them—like whatever he calls you as long as he still says it in that loving tone and kisses you after occasionally—so he's just been adding more and more without taking any away. It annoys Beth a little bit—she's glad you both finally got your heads out of your asses and got together, literally jumping for joy when you'd told her about Steve confessing his love for you too, but she regularly complains about being the third wheel and says Steve is too mushy for his own good—but you love it.

You pull the gearshift to D and ease off the brake like Steve had told you. The car rolls forward slowly.

"Okay, foot off the brake completely. Press on the gas. Gently, honey," he emphasizes and you nod. You do as he says and press the gas pedal softly, and the car speeds up a little. You reach a stop sign and so you dutifully brake. "Nicely done, princess," he says, and leans over to kiss your cheek. Before he can lean back, you turn your head and catch his lips with yours. He presses forward into it, hand coming up to cup your jaw softly.

"Alright, beautiful, turn signals," he says when you've parted. "Lever on the left, press up for right and down for left." You experiment, smiling as the signals flash. "Where do you wanna go?"

You look at him. What you wanna say is "Anywhere with you," but you know that's a little too cheesy for the moment. “Where do you wanna go?” You ask instead.

He hums, thinking about it. “What about…Sydney? The opera house and the beaches and the beautiful sunsets on the desert.” Then he looks at you. “You interested in Australia, darling?”

You always get a thrill when you ask him that now, because he always includes you. Like he’s not going anywhere without you either.

“Sure, as long as you protect me from all those huge bugs,” you answer. “And the kangaroos. I’ve heard they’re mean.”

Steve chuckles. “Haven’t I always been your knight in shining armor, Peach? Been serving you since third grade. I can handle some bugs.”

“I don’t know. You get scared when there’s a spider in your house.”

“I don’t like them!” He protests and you laugh. He looks at you with that adoring expression. “But for you? I’ll do anything.”

You try not to show outwardly how gooey you feel inside. You just lean forward and kiss him again, turning back to the parking lot and stop sign.

You choose a direction at random. "Right," you answer and turn on the signal.

"Good, Peach. Steering wheel to the right too, ease onto the gas, and off we go," Steve directs.

You move the wheel to the right, take your foot off the brake and onto the gas, and off you go.

#steve harrington x reader #mine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

[brokebonewritings]

Dearest, You Said

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags: 18+, Language, Fluff, Getting Together

Summary: You and Matt have been friends since college. Besides Foggy, you would consider him your best friend and saying 'I love you' has always been apart of your vocabulary. When did the lines start to blur, and when did your best friend become so attractive?

Word Count: 2.3K

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A/N: Welcome to my first songfic series! Each one if going to be paired with a song and a lovers prompt! I really hope you enjoys these, and once it's all finished I'll start the next one. Pair this with Je t'aime by Velours Velours

You finished your third shot of the night and slammed it on the table. Both you and Foggy were in a challenge of who could handle the most alcohol. So far, he was winning.

“How are you already on your fifth shot, Fog?” You laid your head on the table in defeat. The coolness of the wood felt nice on your face.

“Just admit you’re too much of a lightweight and this can all end.” He quipped back

“In your dreams!” You say grabbing the bottle, and pouring yourself another shot.

Throwing your head back, the whiskey burns the back of your throat. As you recover you notice Matt walking in with Karen.

“Matty! Karen! Y’all made it!” You wrap your arm around Foggy’s shoulder. “Fog and I were just testing our endurance.”

Karen giggles as they approach the table, and you notice Matt giving one of his famous half smiles.

“Yeah right! More like I’m about to win $100!” Foggy says. You groan as you throw the freshly poured shot back. Holding back the sudden tears in your eyes, you pull out your wallet and hand it to Foggy. Triumphantly, he grabs it and opens it up. Only stopping when he realizes there’s nothing in it.

“What’s wrong, Fog?” Matt says with a smile plastered on his face. Foggy stares as he holds up a small paper that clearly states ‘IOU’.

“I can’t fucking believe this.” He groans. Laughter erupts from the rest of the table. 

You knew in the beginning that he would win the challenge. The prank wasn’t even your idea, it was Matt’s. Both of you planned it out as you sat on his kitchen counter watching him go over some paperwork the previous day.

“Okay okay, here is your payment sir.” You say as you pull a bill out of your pocket. He snatches it from your hand with a ‘thank you’ still shaking his head.

“So how was the interview today?” You turn to Karen with a smile.

“Oh you know, It would have been great if the woman talked to Matt and not me the entire time.” She sighed and looked over at Matt.

“Still?” You gasped “Next time you really should let me come, you know I’ll put them in their place!”

“As much as I love how protective you are,” Matt started “I think I had it under control.”

You flushed at his comment. Both of you had been friends since the first day of college. Well probably not the very first day, but it was sometime around then.

Being protective of Matt was something that came very natural to you. Oftentimes, people didn’t understand that being blind didn’t equal being deaf.  So naturally they would talk louder, or not speak directly to him.

“I’m sure you did.” You huffed looking at the empty shot glass. “Anybody need another drink?”

“Oh I certainly do after beating your ass!” Foggy piped up, prompting you to stick your tongue out at him. 

“Fine, Karen? Matt?” You look towards them.

“I’m good at the moment.” Matt states with a smile.

“I’ll actually join you!” Karen grabbed her purse before getting up.

You both make your way to the bar, before settling on two barstools. Josie comes to greet you both, and you order your drinks with a smile. Karen chats about her day at the office, and some recent cases they were allowed to talk about. You listen attentively and pay for all three drinks once Josie returns. 

Not that you meant to, but you absentmindedly kept looking towards Matt at the bar table. Zoning out everything around you including Karen.

“Hey!” She snaps her fingers in front of your face. “How long are you gonna keep staring at him?”

“Huh?” You shake your head, before turning towards her. “What did you say?”

“I said, You've been staring at Matt for like five minutes, what’s up with that?” She smirked.

“Oh,” You blush and put a few bills in the tip jar. “Nothing, just lost in thought.”

“Yeah I can tell.” She says grabbing her drink. “When are you gonna ask him out?”

Turning bright red, you shush her. Not that anyone around them was listening, but you know that someone potentially was. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Grabbing yours and Foggy’s drink you both head back to the little table. Setting the drinks down, you take a seat next to Matt. He turns his head towards you, and you try your best to ignore him.

Foggy clears his throat which causes both you and Matt to turn your heads towards him.

“I really should be going after this drink. Got an early morning tomorrow.” He says and smiles.

“Oh Foggy, I knew it would get to you sooner or later.” You giggle. In return he throws the drink you had just bought him back, and gives you a wink. 

“Oh, y/n, I can go all night baby.”

“Yeah right! In your dreams!” Both you and Karen say, laughing. He shakes his head and grabs his coat.

“See you all tomorrow.” He says before leaving.

“Yeah I think I’m gonna head out too, gotta date with my bed.” Karen says innocently before getting up.

“Oh so you’re gonna leave me here with him?” You draw sarcastically. Matt pretends to be offended by this.

“Please don’t leave me with her. She’s crazy” He stage whispers that last part.

“Yeah…” She winks at you. “Have fun!” 

After Karen leaves, it’s just the both of you. The silence is deafening between the both of you. You look up towards him and begin to play with your glass as he takes a drink from his own. Feeling incredibly awkward and incredibly sober now, you muster up the courage to start a new conversation.

“So how’s Father Lantom?” You try to start a conversation. He smiles and sighs at your effort.

“You don’t want to talk about what Karen had said?” He questions.

You knew it! He was eavesdropping, and your gut feeling had been correct. Sure sometimes you had your doubts, but you could always count on Matt listening in on conversations he deemed interesting.

“You heard all that, did you?” 

“Of course, considering it’s something I'm quite good at.”

His lips pulled up into a smile, he really was an attractive man. There was nothing about him that seemed to be a red flag unless you counted the vigilante shit. Ever since you had met him though he was gentle, funny, and… well just himself.

“Common, let me walk you home.” He offers.

“Shouldn’t I be the one walking you home?”

He laughs at your response and shakes his head. You never noticed the crinkle of his smiling eyes until right this second. Feeling the heat rush to your face, you shake your head to get rid of the thought.

“y/n? You alright?”

“I’m fine, Matty! Let’s go!” You say, getting up out of your seat. 

Matt stands with you and grabs his cane. Once the both of you were suited up in your coats, he took hold of  your arm and you led him out of the bar. It was a very cold night, and you could feel the shiver that ran through his body once you both stepped outside.

Walking down the street you chatted about current life. How your family was doing, and your recent findings at work. Being an archivist, you were able to entertain him with your stories of artifacts, and your newest assistant.

You realize that you ranted long enough once you see your apartment building come into view. Matt had moved his arm so that you wrapped yours around his upper arm, like the true gentleman he was.

“So I guess this is me.” You say as he walks you into your lobby.

“I guess it is.” He stops to turn towards you

He stands there for a moment awkwardly. Goodbyes were always the weirdest for the both of you. Like you never knew when you would see each other again. He clears his throat before giving a brief goodbye.

“I love you, Matty. Get home safe!” You speak up. Watching him turn and pull his lips into a slight smile.

“I love you too, y/n”

With that, he leaves. You rush upstairs to watch him walk down the street from your window. You always hated seeing him go. It was like you never wanted him to leave.

That was the problem though. You wanted him constantly, all for yourself. The thought of him belonging to another hurt. When did it become like this though, you hadn’t really thought about how long you truly like him.

Pulling out your phone, you send him a text reminding him of the birthday present you had forgotten to give him. You always wrote texts like a letter. He had found it amusing once in college, and it just became your guy’s thing. 

You set your phone down on the counter, and began your nightly routine. It wasn’t until an hour later that you picked your phone up and saw a text from Matt. Wait… what?

Matt M. 12:43

So I’m Dearest now?

You 1:57

Dearest Matthew,

What could you ever be talking about?

With Love,

Y/n

Matt M. 1:59

You said  ‘My Dearest, Matthew’. Please don’t stop on my account, it was cute.

Had you really called him that? Maybe you didn’t mean to. 

Looking back at your first text you realize that you had definitely put a comma after the word Dearest. Flushing about the mistake you text him a quick message about heading to bed before heading to your room. It was easy for you to overthink things that should be honest mistakes.

He called you cute for crying out loud. How were you supposed to drift to sleep knowing he thought the situation was cute. Setting your phone on the nightstand, you climb into bed and try to make yourself comfortable. You don’t remember your last thought before drifting off to sleep.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You jump awake at the sound of knocks on your window. Looking around, you notice it’s still dark outside. Sighing you get up and head into the living room where you know the masked man was waiting at your window. You open up the window to your fire escape and watch as he climbs in.

“You know at this point I’m gonna just leave it unlocked.” You say as you rub your tired eyes.

“That would defeat the purpose of keeping bad people away.” 

“How do I know that you’re not bad, Matty?”

Turning to face him, you see that he has already shed his mask and set it on your side table. You gasp as you see the bruise forming on his cheekbone, and the blood coming off his swollen lip. He grimaces after hearing the noise you just made.

“Jesus, Matt… What happened.”

“Don’t know, some guy… was robbing a woman. He really got me bad, huh?” 

He turns his head up to face you. You never could stand it when he got hurt. So you took up some first aid classes after you had found out about his little hobby. Grabbing your first aid kit from under your sink and a pack of ice, you turn to aid your vigilante.

You slowly start to clean off his lip, and examine it to see if stitches were needed. Nothing too serious seemed to have happened so you gave him the ice for his face and guided him to sit on the couch.

Once you feel that he is taken care of, you head to the kitchen and pour him a glass of water. Too distracted by the task you don’t notice him get up and follow behind you.

“Can we please talk about the conversation you and Karen had earlier?”

You jump at the sound of his rough voice. He looked so seriously at you. It must have really been bothering him throughout the night.

“What is there to talk about?” 

“Don’t play coy, y/n, I know you like me.”

He stepped towards you, trapping you against the sink. You look up in shock to see his gaze was on you. Getting nervous, you feel your heart pounding in your chest. How can this man make you feel this way? You really didn’t understand.

“Sweetheart, I can hear your heart racing.”

The heat rushes to your cheeks at the sound of that pet name. Matt had never called you anything like that before. Yet you couldn’t help but dream of him calling you that more often. Clearing your throat, you finally decide to speak up.

“Okay! Yes, I like you! A lot, Matt.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know…” You quietly defeat. 

You feel his hand rest on your waist. Rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Looking up at him, you notice his cheeks are slowly starting to pinken.

“Do… you like me in the same way?” You ask. Not that you wanted to know the negative answer, but the closure would be nice.

“I do.” 

Watching him swallow hard on the confession, you slide your hands up his arms and rest them on his chest. Feeling his heartbeat was comforting. I guess you finally understand what that felt like.

“What do we do now?”

“Y/n…”

“Matt?”

Instead of responding right away, he leans in close and whispers softly against your lips.

“I love you.”

You smile before replying.

“I love you too.”

Closing the gap, goosebumps rise on your arms as he kisses you. Never in your adult years would you think Matt Murdock would be kissing you. His lips were soft, and the kiss felt like you were both reuniting after a long time apart. 

Time passed by slowly before you noticed him pull away. You open your eyes to see his were  still closed, and a shuddering sigh falling from his lips. This was bliss, and maybe it would stay yours for the rest of your life.

“Matty.”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

join my taglist!

#Matt Murdock #Matt Murdock x reader #songfic #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfic writing #daredevil #marvel #marvel fanfic series #charlie cox #netflix daredevil #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #matthew murdock

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Not sure if this is where you want your asks to be sent or not, I'm new to your blog so sorry if this is the wrong place

There is another instruction for Wally that I haven't seen you talk about and I want to know your thoughts! Back in november, before the responses, the secret URLs (such as woxyve) had the word "delete" added to the end (ex: woxyvedelete) implying that they wanted Wally to delete the page. After this most recent update it changed again and now says nodelete meaning that Wally refused to do that task. Thoughts?

where else would asks be sent if not the Askbox! inbox! both!

i actually wasn't aware of this until a few days ago, when i saw a post pointing it out - i had never gone directly back to those pages. which serves me right! i'm gonna be double checking Everything from now on lmao

but my fucking GOD is it interesting. thus far Wally has been... fairly cooperative. he's had a moment here and there, such as closing the guest book and losing his patience a lil, but he does his best with the rest! especially with requests! so for him to straight up go "lmao nah" when asked to delete something...

characterization-wise, i think it's very telling. as of now, Wally has been commonly portrayed as a bit of a doormat - getting talked over, sitting off to the side, being a bit of a background character - in in-Home media. less so in his whrp/qa/You interactions, but he's still widely agreeable & willing. but him refusing to delete the urls gives major points to him Having A Spine. he's holding his ground. he knows what he's doing. he's not going to let the whrp shut him up. there's a Thought Process / Plan / Purpose being shown here, or at least hinted at. there's a sense of.... Control. of "this is the way we're doing things, this is what i'm saying and you're going to sit down and listen" it's just... such a shift from the Wally we see in his interactions with the neighbors. which again, lends credence to there being a time discrepancy, with whrp Wally being older and more "experienced" while past Wally is still figuring his shit [being alive] out <3

story-wise it adds some Delightful friction. like obviously there's already tension, what with the staff only page, "Let Me In", the mysterious black stuff, the guest book closing, and the whrp/qa being disturbed by it all. but Wally outright refusing to delete things is a Different sort of conflict. it's more... direct. which makes sense! his interactions with the whrp/qa are becoming more personal, too. but it lends to the feeling of a push-pull. as the whrp/qa investigates Wally and starts treating him like the person he is instead of a long-lost character, they're probably gonna clash (a lot) despite the apparent impulse to pursue Welcome Home. currently, Wally doesn't seem big on compromising. if he doesn't know what to do, it looks like he simply Won't or he'll do his own thing and be like "shrug". if he doesn't want to do something, it also looks like he simply Will Not.

of course, there's the strong possibility that the whrp Were Not Serious about it. the 'delete' command might have them testing the waters, poking the bear, etc. but then were they testing to see if Wally is there, or were they testing his level of compliance? both? a secret third option?

and if they Were serious about it... why? what is it about the marked urls that made the whrp go "get that outta here"? and why couldn't they delete it themselves? i mean, obviously they can't delete anything Wally adds, otherwise the extra stuff he's added probably wouldn't be there (unless the impulse / curiosity driving them is too strong to delete anything added). but there's still a why about it. what changed so fundamentally in the site's code - or laws of physics/reality - that made it impossible to alter Wally's additions?

it's just. i feel that there are a lot of implications in such a small interaction. it shows more than one would expect.

#I JUST. AGH #idk if i said any of this in a way that makes sense #how would/do the whrp/qa react to that? to him being like 'we are Not deleting this <3' #whether they were serious about it or not thats Gotta raise some feelings #were they scared? frustrated? shocked? vindicated? #MAN IM SO CURIOUS #wally said no! the whrp asked and He Said No! #i mean to be fair #from what we know about wally - both from shared trivia/thoughts and the main canon #he doesnt seem hesitant to say No in general #but still. with almost everything else asked of him he Tried. he made an effort. hm #homebogging #rambles from the bog #wh speculation #welcome home speculation #AND THEN - OH THIS IS A TANGENT! #about him flipping sally's portrait. HOW THE FUCK? its technically a 2-d image. there isn't a back #so did wally make a back - or did his Direct Interaction bend reality and make it so that there's one to show? #fucking Fascinating. i mean i already have a lot of thoughts on reality fuckery in this story but mmmmm man. implications. #or - oh or - are the character portraits The Characters. this is a crack theory but hm #the fact that there are tiny versions of some of the neighbors in their houses on the map. trapped inside. multiple franks. #you see what im getting at? #not to say that they're trapped in the site! but what if there's a direct Connection. the character and the art aren't explicitly separate #as implied with wally's 'every time you look into my eyes' / 'you draw mine' #if his art has a direct link to him - Is him in a sense - why wouldn't that be the case for the others #huh. i wonder if they'll ever sense it like he does. will they ever look back? will their pupils slowly start to look at the screen? #i mean the teeny eddie in the post office is looking straight out at us but yk. Inch Resting.

[greythemed]

𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ bloodhounds . kim gun-woo

˚ TITLE 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ how is like to date kim gun-woo. ˚ WORD COUNT 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ 1775.

dating gun-woo was like listening to my love by justin timberlake but the difference is that he wouldn't ask you to be his love bcuz he's a shy boy and would act exactly like only by lee hi

holds the door for you EVERYTIME like it's not even funny how gentleman-ly this man is

first time meeting your family? gun-woo is bringing every dish his lovely mother is capable of preparing in one day because he wants to impress your parents so bad (especially if you come from money while he doesn't) like he is so scared he'll mess something up

LISTENS TO YOU! i think gun-woo would be a good therapy friend but an AMAZING healing-era boyfriend. like family issues? imma suffocate you so hard with my love that you won't need anyone else anymore babygirl.

late-night therapy sessions where you both trade one secret for one kiss because it's cute and vulnerable while laying upside down on your bed and w pinkies intertwined. and if something about the relationship (or smth the other did on the day) is bothering one of you, late-night calls are a MUST - no matter where you are or which time it is.

his only source of relationship advice are guilty kdramas he has watched during the pandemic (when he wasn't punching random henchmen lol) and woo-jin so expect A LOT of misunderstandings from this guy

like one time he thought it'd be cute to surprise you with flowers at your work because he saw it in one kdrama and wanted to do the same but completely forgot you worked at a morgue as a young autopsy so you were horrified for a whole week💀

buys you sweet snacks every time he goes out like it doesn't matter if he's BROKE, he'll bring something for you, and don't bother stressing he'll keep doing the same till eternity no matter what

miss here has a late-night craving? gun-woo is running to the closest store at the darkest crack of dawn to buy you your wish, even if you try to stop him "don't worry, love, i'll be quick" and proceeds to kiss your head while putting his green puffy jacket on and rushing.

honestly let’s talk about that. IT HAS TO GO AWAY. definitely going to be your first gift for him: A NEW JACKET. like give her a break gunwoo-ya, she's not goin' nowhere bestie ✊😔

your 'dynamic trio' is a little stressful at the start. i truly believe woo-jin would test the SHIT out of gun-woo's partner, no matter how much the boxer tries to prove to him you're no threat. like mister mayweather fan won't let you breathe the first time you guys meet, making direct questions like "what are your intentions with my babyboy right here? 🤨" or "if you're planning to leave him someday and brake his heart, i WILL find you"

super-protective woo-jin boyfriend mode is off the instant he finds out you're striving to be a doctor one day and help the world to be a better place and stars are starting to accumulate in your eyes while you talk. (he still threatens you sometimes tho).

after that the DOUBLE DATES' SEASON starts (because woo-jin also has his partner after all) and suddenly your group of friends consists of your boyfriend, your boyfriend's boyfriend, and another unfortunate third wheel caught in their bromance.

he's such a shy baby and you're such a social butterfly girlie so we might have some contradictions about where to go on date nights. like one week is staying in movie nights where you’re all cozy and gun-woo is sleeping at the first five minutes of the movie (“i swear it wasn’t on purpose babe🥺”) and the other is freaking museum rides and “i heard this new place at the mall is SO good we have to try it!!!!”.

but when it comes to physical activities? you’re SO done. like NO GUNWOO I DON’T WANT TO WAKE UP 5 IN THE FUCKING MORNING TO RUN AT THE BEACH WITH YOU😡😡😡. (he dreams of the day you’ll say yes).

watching? maybe. he gets all sweaty and sexy for you, i can imagine his partner just staying there in the corner wrapped in a cozy blanket and eating some snacks while he’s working the fuck out in the garage. like i got you bae don't worry! from right here🧍🏻‍♀️ . and he loves it. 

absolutely adores praising, especially regarding his physic or gym evolution and gets all shy when you do it because “really? have you been payin’ attention to me?🥺”.

really values traditional corny-ass attitudes like protecting your head every time you get out of the car, walking on the side closer to the street, holds hands so he literally doesn’t lose you (it happened one time, you saw a rainbow-y burrito trailer and went for it without even thinking), ladies first always, pays for food when you get out or buys you flowers.

after he and woo-jin took their part of the money, the first thing gun-woo did was open his mom’s café and buy them a house just like mister choi said. he started working out more and working on his physic to maybe try and win one more tournament but he ends up meeting you and your father and meeting so many new people that wanted to take him under their wing 😊.

he literally had to pick which sponsor he’d choose to run for the belt. he got quite famous for jumping two categories in one year and from then on gun-woo made a few winning his pro fights.

he did what he loved so you supported him, biting your nails every time he’d take more than one round to knock his opponent out and cheering with his mom beside you in her new apartment every time the fight ended.

you’re so his passenger princess. this man will be moving mountains to do what you want and he’s so good at it.

on days when he’s more clingy and vulnerable expect this tall man to be glued to you. sometimes when you can’t be reached he will just call you to hear your voice on your break from work and straight hit the gym to soothe his anxiety.

in death’s anniversaries, he’d be the same. would stay silent the whole day if you don’t talk to him because it’s so painful to remember what happened to them all in one day. so you need to be careful and engage him in soothing activities or just distract him respectfully. 

nsfw under 🤗

gun-woo is such a giving person and he wouldn't be different in his relationship. sexually speaking? this man doesn't know where to start. you guys end up having a real conversation about this because gun-woo doesn't know how to enjoy things where he's the benefitted one and only wants to give, give, give. its sick.

it doesn't help the man is fixated on eating you out too. like, honestly he'll die a happy man if it is between your legs. at first, you had to teach him a lot of things (you were basically his first everything, after all) and the boxer took that as a fucking challenge. picture that every night he'd be knocking at your door not even saying hello and going straight to business because "i want to do it right this time, angel. is this okay? am i making you feel good?".

*dies while writing this*

there is a gun-woo before ep.6 and another one after ep.6 and we all know it. but the thing he didn't change was his heart, right? so the boy that watched netflix kdramas with his mom after gym sessions during the pandemic while eating ramyeon is the same man that takes you to bed after a romantic date and not only DOESN'T rush you to do anything but also asks if you want him to sleep on the floor because maybe he'll make you uncomfortable?🥺 and he doesn't want that. (even though you've been dating for ages by now lol)

so when you glance at him asking “bae, what are you doing?” he is stuttering like “sleeping on t-the… floor?” “get your ASS back here mister kim imma teach you how to be a man😾”

honestly, he finds you SO funny that even during sexy time he’ll laugh at your jokes. like genuinely laugh and you’d consequently laugh at his reaction too and then sexy time is gone for the next 10 whole minutes till he shuts you up and goes back to business.

big boy up and down we've all been through that already, right? right.

sometimes it pisses you off that he takes everything so serious and it takes the sparkle away for you. but it’s because everything is so new to him that he feels like he has to be amazing on his first try and it infuriates you.

“you good?” he raises his head and looks into your eyes in confusion. “you’re doing it again, can’t you please just feel instead of thinking for once?” you question and his big round eyes make an appearance. “oh… i’m sorry”. and starts doing it right because in his head, that was also a challenge.🙄

gun-woo is a shy man. while i do not agree when i see people calling him a bottom, he’s not approaching you first babe get over it. gun-woo is the type of man that needs a little “it’s okay i want sexy time now pls” so his key is finally turned and the beast is unleashed. not saying he’s a freak because he’s probably a super traditional guy but you know what i mean.

that drabble i wrote? he needs your okay first to iniciate anything. my man could be busting his pants, fully hard n leaking and won’t even utter a word.

stamina>>> he's an athlete like c'mon

don't expect any replies from this man if you send him nudes in the middle of the day someday. boy will be BLUSHING the rest of his chores forever. and he won't have the heart to stare at you for a whole week if you don't approach him first.

you'd be all "lol you're blushing baby 🤭😆" and he'd be like "why did you do this to me?🥺🥺🥺 now i want you more for the rest of my life and forever".

you cannot say that this man doesn't feel like some of justin bieber's songs (specially company like ok i might have to make a playlist just about him)

i'm going to end this here and let y'all starve.

making a playlist about him after this for safety purposes. i could make this for hours and hours no joke, mom come pick me up pls i'm scared.

#kim geun woo x reader #woo do hwan #kim gun woo #bloodhounds smut #bloodhounds kim geun woo #bloodhounds #bloodhounds x reader #bloodhounds kdrama #bloodhounds netflix

[equallyshaw]

favorite crime | mat barzal.

– part of the Sour hockey imagines.

– warnings: swearing.

– word count: 2.2k

• • • • • • •

Know that I loved you so bad I let you treat me like that I was your willing accomplice

–

she was head over heels, and everyone knew it. especially mat. he thrived off of it, he had her in the palm of his hands and used it to his advantage. especially when he wanted to get laid. he was a dude, what else would you expect? the first time she questioned everything was when he failed to show up to her apartment after a pre planned meeting between the two. he blew it off as "something came up" not knowing he was doing it to test her patience and her loyalty to him. the second time she questioned her love for the canadian was when he blew up at her when she commented on him showing up unannounced while she was doing school work.

"you show up now and now then, mat? I'm busy! i cant just drop everything for you when i have my own life." she fought back, and he chuckled angrily. "there are plenty of fucking women in this city that would." he seethed before turning around and walking out.

the third time was when he was harassing her over text messages, he did not like how she was seen in a snapchat story from one of her friends of her and another guy doing shots together. he was asserting dominance over her, and again testing her loyalty. her friends told her that that was not fuckin normal and that she needed to drop him. but the only problem was, was that she loved him. they did not know how sweet he could be in private, when he whispered sweet nothings in her ears as he made love to her or when they did couple things her their respective apartments such as decorating a gingerbread house or baking pumpkin bread over the holidays. they did not know who he was when it was just the two of them, and so she just kept going back.

–

And I watched as you fled the scene Doe-eyed as you buried me

–

then things began to turn for the worse, and every time he left her apartment he'd leave her in tears as he had just given her another blow to her self-worth, confidence, and who she was. he did not care. he would act as if he did nothing wrong, and that they were just having a conversation. he again thrived off the feeling it gave him and how she could still take it all, and crawl back to him. he'd leave knowing what he always knew, she'd call or text the next day apologizing for whatever she thought she did.

she sat on the couch looking at her white carpet, as he yelled at her from the other side of the room. this time it was about how she was seen taking shots with a guy in the snapchat video. "but you don't own me! we arent even a damn couple, so you cant get upset if i go out with my friends!" she screamed at him through tears, not being able to control them. "that's why you need new friends!" he screamed back at her, as she consoled her self by wrapping her arms around herself. she looked up at him, as if what he said was not hurtful and that it was not an issue. that he was just, 'stating the obvious'. she shook her head, crying even harder as he slammed her apartment door shut.

–

Those things I did Just so I could call you mine The things you did Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

–

this girl did everything her power to make sure she looked the part everytime they went out, with his teammates. make sure she looked the part so that she could actually have the part at some point; officially. her sister and her best friend were concerned when she brought a whole new wardrobe, got her hair highlighted and started wearing loads of makeup. the very opposite of who she was, prior to meeting mat.

"listen please don't take this the wrong way hun, but what is going on? why have you changed everything about yourself? for him." her sister said concerningly one morning over brunch. her little sister gave her a confused looked, "look at the outfit you have on. this is something i'd wear and though i love it...it isn't you. this isn't my sister that i know." but her little sister would not hear it. "you don't love him bean, please don't say that you do." she said giving her hard look and her little sister knew that she was upset. "god damn, he's changed you! you cant be in love this deeply after 4 months bean..you just cant be!" her older sister said getting heated. "you-you don't know him-" and her older sister chuckled. "i know him enough, thankyou." and with that her older sister threw some money on the table and was gone.

she did not realize how much she needed to hear that, and as she returned back to her apartment; her mind was running rapidly. she had changed, and not for the better. she began to dress differently, act differently to those that tried to talk down on mat, changed her whole schedule to match his and most importantly, she never ate anymore. she was too transfixed on being enough for him, but deep down she knew she'd never be enough.

–

I crossed my heart as you crossed the line And I defended you to all my friends

–

"denise- he isn't that bad!" she defended mat, as she was out to eat with the friends that he wanted her to drop. denise and the other shook their heads. "how many god damn times have you called me in tears after he left your apartment, huh? how many times have you called us having an anxiety attack because he told you to stop hanging out with us or to stop doing the things that make you happy? he's fucking controlling you, and you don't even recognize it!" and the others agreed. the girl shook her head, so miserably in love. "girl..we don't even wanna hang out with you knowing that he's gonna call you as soon as you step one foot out of the restaurant or store..but we know we cant leave you alone to fend for yourself." ashley another friend stated. "guys, stop. he cares about me, i promise. i would not be with him if he didn't." she said desperately, trying to move on from the conversation. the others took another defeat and moved on. though, they would be continuing to go back to the conversation at a later date.

–

And now, every time a siren sounds I wonder if you're around 'Cause you know that I'd do it all again

–

even after 6 months of having no contact, whenever she heard the song that was playing the very night that they met in that crowded bar, she looks around hoping to see him. she thinks about that night everytime and how much he love bombed her, in hopes to get her back to her apartment. she thinks back to how good it was those first few weeks and how much he acted as if he adored the girl to the ends of the earth. sweet texts, coffee delivered to her place, flowers in the mail and the incredible sex her gave her. she would go back to that mat in an instant, but she knows it was all a ploy to gain her trust just so then he could rip herself apart, slowly and surely.

–

It's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do 'Cause I was going down, but I was doing it with you Yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made But I say that I hate you with a smile on my face

–

the two of them did a number on one another as if that was not already clear. even though she continued to go back time and time again, she'd make sure he felt just as shitty as when he did it to her. she made sure he felt just how worthless he made her feel and would threaten everything, even his livelihood.

once people had begun to question their relationship and how fucked it all seemed, she began to become distant. mat noticed it, how couldn't he? he was in tune with every mood, every step, and every action she made. he had to be, or he wouldn't be able to get away with what he did. then slowly, she began to fight back. if he was doing it, why couldn't she? the next time he showed up after she brunch with her sister, she didn't take the words he threw at her. mat felt threatened with every insult and glare she threw at him. he was nervous for the first time in their 'relationship' or 'situationship'. "what has gotten into you?" he said as he felt cornered. she laughed heartedly, "doing exactly what you do the second you step into my place." she seethed, turning back to look at him with an icy glare. "you hurt me babe, so i get to hurt you." she said grinning darkly. "do you know how that makes me feel about you?" she questioned, not a beat later. he shook his head. "it makes me fucking hate you." she said smiling, before she placed her lips on his.

–

Oh, look what we became

–

finally after what seemed like an eternity, when in reality it was only 7 months; she left. she moved back home to connecticut to be with her parents and friends. mat was shocked to show up to her place, and she no longer resided there. he texted her, but never got a response after she had changed her number. he had no way to get ahold of her besides social media, that she also abandoned for new accounts as well.

her parents had no idea why she showed up on their doorstep right before christmas, but once they found out; they were never going to let her leave the state again.

the last time they fought was the worst that they had fought before, plates and cups as well as a flower vase broke within her apartment. cops were called, the apartment manager was called and so was his lawyer and agent. the two were able to get out of it, and with a little money dropped their way they forgot about all of it. she had never once been in the presence of violence, and she knew in that moment she had to leave. she quickly got her sister and friends to help her pack the very next day and as soon as everything was shipped, she flew home.

–

All the things you did

Well, I hope I was your favorite crime

–

even when things never seemed to go right, there would be moments that would make it seem like it was all alright. a few nights before the last fight, mat had shown up with her favorite pizza and a bottle of red wine. and that night he showed her what she'd been craving for a while again. he was gentle, he was sweet, kind, loving, and every single synonym in the book that described somebody who deeply cared about somebody. he had shown her what he could be if he ever made things official. but like anything in her life, this was not meant to be.

she hopes that he realizes how much of a mistake it all was, getting to know her. she hopes selfishly, that he realizes how much of an ass and how he had fumbled a dime like her. she was an amazing person, ask anyone in her life. and one should be so lucky to know her and call her theirs.

–

Your favorite crime

–

as years go by, she finally finds the courage to head back to new york to visit her sister. running through the snowy streets trying to get inside before she gets even more soaked. she holds the hand of her new fiance tony, she gets inside quickly to see her sister and her husband sitting near the back. her sister see's her baby sister's contagious smile from across the restaurant and tears up at how comfortable she looks and see's the ever- loving gaze her fiance holds for her as he takes her coat off.

as luck would have it, mat and his teammates had just sat down in the Italian restaurant only mere minutes before her and tony. the couple walk down the length of the restaurant to hug the waiting couple. "oh my god, the ring is even more beautiful in person!" her sister gushed as she and her husband inspected it. tony only laughed, as he looked on. he pulled out the seat for her, and which she took with a wide smile. a little while later as the four were leaving, the older sister saw the scorned and tainted canadian as she walked in front, and she gave the best family glare she could. he felt chills run down his spine, as he took in the girl that he used and abused over and over again. she looked happy and so in love with the guy.

hope it was all worth it, mat.

• • • • • • •

and there you have it folks😢 pls don't kill me lol

but if you enjoyed, please like and reblog-- itd mean a whole lot!

🫶🏻🫶🏻

some tags from previous parts in series: @fallinallincurls @jayda12 @barzzal @matbaerzal @slafgoalskybaby @bitchinbarzal @hockeyboysarehot @cellythefloshie @hockey-lover86

#mat barzal #mat barzal x oc #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine #sour hockey imagines #nhl #hockey #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #hockey fic #nhl fic #new york islanders

[inkblot22]

Can You Keep A Little Secret? 2

Dreamworks films have no right having such good soundtracks. The whole time I wrote this I listened to this and this. The second one isn't a Dreamworks song, but Scary Bitches is such a good band and I want more people to know about them tbh. The first song also is not about me, as I am neither big nor chunky, but hey, who doesn't love someone who is big and chunky? I'm sure everyone can relate to that song as either the person singing or the person being sung to. Dividers made by @/cafekitsune.

Similarly to the last part, this fic is aimed at sort of anyone, but the reader's physical body has afab features. It's not really mentioned in this chapter, but it will come into serious play later.

TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, MORE creep behavior, a lot of introspection in this chapter, one (1) weird middle-aged man, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.

Part 1 here!

Monday comes with the regular stress. You slept like a newborn and your new mom came over to congratulate you. She’s sweet, but her excitement was not contagious. If anything, it just stressed you out more. At least she made dinner when she came over. Always excellent when you don’t have to do that on your own. 

On Sunday, you make a night of getting ready for your doom tomorrow. Your agent sent you an email on Friday, including the shot location. 

Monday morning, you call up your new father, who apparently wakes up every morning at four to relax before he has to be productive, and he sends over Devin and a car to take you to the set. Devin, as it turns out, is an elderly man with cataracts and your father’s trusted chauffeur. You aren’t convinced as he takes turns way too hard, your cupcake-shaped backpack sliding on the back seat. When he drops you off, he hands you a hard candy and wishes you a good day before he takes off speeding. The candy looks like it’s older than you. You slip it in your pocket.

You imagine you’re lucky, since when you walk up to the tents, you don’t see Epel. You’re not ready for the rollercoaster of emotions he inspires in you. Instead is a group of three people around your age- college kids- and a grouchy-looking middle-aged man. You take a nervous seat on one of the nearby stools.

You were certain you’d been silent, but as soon as you’re settled, the whole groups’ heads snap to stare at you. A woman with ocean-green hair walks over and holds out her hand.

“My name isn’t important right now, ohmygod it’s so nice to meet you!” She squeals, shaking the everloving fuck out of your arm, “Oh, who am I kidding? My name is Belle!”

“Uh… nice to meet you, Belle?” You say, smiling awkwardly.

“Ahhh! You’re not mean at all! Those tabloids don’t know what they’re talking about. Who believes that greasy, gossipy shlock anyway, huh?” She talks a mile a minute.

Another woman with dark hair walks over, smiling somewhat awkwardly, “Belle, you’re scaring the poor thing. I’m Argon. Yes, like the gas. No, I don’t have IBS.”

You’re not sure why she decided to clarify that, but it’s not your problem. The third person and the middle-aged man stroll over. 

“I’m Starlo. You’ll be in these meaty paws today.” The middle aged man says. It’s not a pleasant introduction, and if anything, it makes you want to turn tail and run.

You nod along regardless, and the other man jabs out his hand, “Pepper.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” You say politely.

Belle drags you out of the stool and towards a trailer, the only one on the lot. She shoves you in and you feel the want to leave grow stronger.

She’s so bubbly. She talks fast and she talks with her hands, “This is you and Epel’s dressing room! I know it’s not ideal, so that’s why it’s got a divider. He’s a gentleman anyway, so it doesn’t matter, I’m sure. Starlo will be in shortly to do some makeup tests, and then once Epel gets here, we’ll go over the script and the visions we have, and then that’s all for today. I’m so excited to work with you guys. Oh! That’s right! We were gonna go to that traditional Scalding Sands place after we’re done here. I don’t have your contacts, but if you wanted to come along, that would be amazing. You seem so sweet.”

You’re legitimately unsure how to respond to any of that. She also seems very sweet, and you really don’t want to get stuck in a coffee shop with Epel afterwards. Unfortunately, as she was speaking, the devil himself showed up. You didn’t notice him at first, but you felt your skin crawl when he did. He's got his silky lavender hair pulled off of his shoulders in a little tail at the nape of his neck. You open your mouth to say that you’d love to get shawarma with this motley crew, but he beats you to it.

His pretty blue eyes never leave yours, “Oh, you’re just a peach for offering, but we’ve already got plans.”

Belle spins around to face him, screams, and swoons. You manage to stumble forward and catch her, and Epel’s smile drops as he slinks across the room, spins one of the crappy foldable chairs around, and plops himself into it, elegantly resting his ankle on his knee. For all of two minutes, he just stares at you as you lay Belle down, stuffing some fabrics under her feet, and fanning her face. 

When Belle comes to, his smile is back. She jumps to her feet and begins fawning over him, shaking his hand just as excitedly.

“Hi! I’m Belle! Oh, my god, you’re even prettier in person, and ooh, you smell so nice too.”

Epel laughs, but it doesn’t hit your ears right. Belle eats it up and you glance at the door. She’s got him distracted. It would be so easy just to leave, to feign an illness and walk to the nearest cornerstore so you could call a taxi or a rideshare.

You’re not lucky, though, as Starlo strolls in just as you’re about to go for the door, “Belle, what the hell are you doing? Argon and Pepper are waiting for you.”

She literally squeaks like a mouse and waves a quick goodbye. Starlo grabs you by the arm and deposits you in the other foldable metal chair, clearing his throat repeatedly as he pulls over a stool and drags out an industrial size makeup kit. 

The first makeup that he swatches both tingles and is way too light a color for your skin tone. You blink rapidly, unsure if you should say anything.

“You gonna get the same thing you always do?” Epel asks.

“What?” You turn your head to look at him.

He’s wearing a patient expression, but like always, it feels artificial. “From that bagel place.”

“Uh… I-I’m sorry?”

“I know you didn’t forget. I’m taking you to brunch after all this.”

“Uh… haha, yeah.” You don’t know what you always get from the bagel place.

Starlo daubs something else on your arm. It’s cold, but it looks really pretty on your skin.

The “you” that everyone has been expecting sounds like an outspoken, opinionated person who was consistently late or absent from various responsibilities, and if your new mom is anything to go by, neglecting their own health. You almost wish you had a bit more to go off so you could start acting like this you, but you’re not too keen on speaking your mind with people you don’t know. Your entire life has been hit with a cosmic “reset from most recent save” button, and if you dare to mention it to anyone, you’re in for a whole new set of problems.

Whatever Starlo just put on your arm burns. You yelp and jerk away, and he grabs your wrist. You think it’s instinctive, but his grip is nothing to sneeze at.

“What’s the matter?” Starlo asks.

“I- You’re crushing my wrist.” You mumble, “And I don’t know what that last one was, but it burned.”

“It burned?” He pulls out a bottle of the wrong shade of foundation and looks at it, “Huh. No wonder. Damn thing is expired.”

“Why are you even using that one?” Epel asks. Although his tone sounds innocent, the question is outright confrontational, “It’s way too dark.”

“Are you the makeup artist here, son?” Starlo shoots back.

“I usually do my own makeup. I know it’s not the same, but anyone with eyes can see that you’re going about your business the wrong way.”

You keep your lips sealed. What are you even supposed to say here? Other than that last product, he’s been fine. His hand on your wrist feels crushingly uncomfortable, of course, but he’s not doing any of this on purpose. You skimmed the script, but you’re not really sure what the story is about. It’s all of your jobs to try to make it come together, and if that means that you’re going to be wearing a foundation two shades too dark for you, then perhaps that’s what art is. As you were thinking, Starlo let go of your wrist in favor of getting in Epel’s face. 

“-no two-bit, fucking stuck up little prick like you is gonna tell me how to do my damn job. You understand?”

Epel is smiling sweetly even as the older man’s spittle is spraying him in the face. He stands up, and Starlo steps back, as though expecting Epel to start swinging. Instead, he walks over to you, grabs your hand ever so delicately. The contact makes your skin crawl as he yanks you to your feet.

“You should apologize before the two of us walk off set right now.” He said, still smiling.

You can’t just walk off set. You don’t think you can, at least. Your agent was so excited for the positive PR this would create, and this is genuinely not a big deal, “Wait-”

Starlo’s eyes narrow, and it hits you that maybe he sees what you see when you look at Epel. A two-faced creature masquerading as a man. You’ve seen one of his sides clearly, but you’re certain you haven’t seen all of the other one, even when he called you on Thursday. It’s like seeing someone standing at the end of a hallway with their back to you: the sight is enough to give you chills, but you aren’t able to see the knife that the person is holding in front of them. That sort of thing. You’re aware of the danger, but can’t comprehend the depth of it.

Despite all, Starlo acquiesces, showing his palms and shaking his head, “Yeah, I’m sorry. Doctor says I gotta work on my temper.”

“You do.” Epel responds flatly, releasing your hand and reclaiming his seat.

The rest of the test is short. Starlo is pretty competent, and he makes it quick and sweet.

That seems to be the theme for the rest of the day. Starlo remains in the trailer to dispose of a few expired things and note down what you had reactions to, while you and Epel meet up with Belle, Argon, and Pepper to talk about the short film.

It’s going to be a story of lovers, unfortunately, but you get to play the part of the dead one. The story goes that your and Epel’s characters came out here to camp, but you froze to death in the night. Epel returns to the campsite every year in your memory, and you return from the land of the dead in his. On the night shown in the film, you finally bump into each other, and through the emotional reunion, you spend one final night camping together.

Epel smiles and nods along with what the three film students say, all too eager to whisk you away as soon as the first shooting date is scheduled and you have an extra copy of the script in your sweaty hands. 

He drags you towards a very cute little compact car in candy apple red and opens the door for you. You don’t want to get in, but you also don’t want to call Devin. You take a seat and he closes the door. As you’re buckling up, he gets in the driver and starts the car, just sitting there for a second before he buckles and backs out of the lot, his arm on the back of your seat.

You look out the window and Epel grunts, his voice no longer sweet and charming and fake, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

You turn your head sharply, “What?”

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he blinks. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that until later, and then he says, “You’ve been acting real weird. You been talking to someone?”

“What are you talking about?”

He narrows his eyes in a glance at you, and then he swerves the car in a wrong turn. “I think you know. People don’t change overnight. Where were you that week no one could get ahold of you?”

“I was… in my apartment?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You’re in the city by now, the sun reflecting off of the skyscrapers’ windows in an aggressive manner, “And over the course of that week you decided you didn’t like being a bitch no more?”

“I don’t-”

“Every time I saw you, for years, it was the same thing.” He turns again, going in a circle around the block, “Same shit. Every day. Making fun of my upbringing, like I didn’t know you barely had one, calling me everything out of my name, and now suddenly you’re…”

His voice trails off. You contemplate throwing the door on your side open and jumping out of the car. You absolutely do not need this. You’re already stressed out.

“Well… suppose I shouldn’t complain. I do like you better this way.” He mutters. “But way back when, when you pulled shit like this, it was because you were plotting something. That your game now? You-”

“I… I’m sorry for being so mean to you in the past.” You’re not apologizing for anything you did, but you’re grasping aimlessly trying to de-escalate this one-sided conversation. He’s driving. If you don’t do something, he could decide to swerve off the road and kill you both, “There was no reason for it.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he says, “That… means a lot. I already forgave you. Told myself I wouldn’t quit trying to be friends. Guess it paid off, huh? I’m sorry for getting angry when we talked, Thursday before last.”

You don’t like that at all. It sort of feels like he’s not saying everything, like you should know what he’s talking about. You don’t. You weren’t living in this body Thursday before last. You nod and look out the window, “Uh… I appreciate it.”

You don’t actually care, but you’re a good actor. You’ve already decided that you’re going to just go along with Epel’s brunch and then you’re going to pretend he doesn’t exist outside of work. Frankly you’re unsure why the person who used to live in this body had his number or interacted with him for years, evidently.

Epel parks and you have a minor crisis as you try to figure out what you typically get from this bagel shop. It doesn’t matter anyway, since he orders you a large caramel iced coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese. That’s such a basic order, but it’s simple enough to be good. You sit quietly and eat, not interested in making conversation.

Epel clears his throat. He’s quiet, but he’s talking in that schooled version of his voice again, “You ever hear back from that breeder?”

“Uh… the what?” You narrow your eyes.

Epel is leaning on his hand, a sweet little smile on his lips as he looks at you. Seven, you want him to look away, “The sphynx cats. You said you sent them an email a while ago during that meeting we had with Mirelle after our big public argument.”

“Oh. I haven’t checked.” You didn’t know you should have. You take a sip of the iced coffee and look out the window.

Epel hums and a stranger walks over, grinning, “Oh my goodness! It’s actually you! Can I have your autograph, Mr. Felmier?”

“Oh, just Epel is fine. Sure!” He’s all smiles as he interacts with the fan, but as soon as they’re gone, his face falls and he nudges your hand, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

“O-oh, no, that’s alright-”

“You want to make another big scene?”

You force a smile and grab your iced coffee, following after Epel. He nudges your hand with his own, but you pull your hand away, covering it up with adjusting your clothes and holding your nearly empty coffee cup with both hands. Your hands are slick with more than just condensation.

You’re all too aware of your surroundings, especially the way that he somehow knows the key code to the door of your apartment building to get you in without a fob. You pause in the lobby.

“Thanks so much for walking me back, Epel. See you tomorrow.” You smile and turn to walk towards the stairs.

Epel grabs the back of your shirt and tugs you back a bit. You stumble against him and he frowns at you.

His expression should tug at your heartstrings, and yet… “You’re not gonna invite me up?”

This poses a dilemma. There are a few people watching this interaction. You can’t afford to make any type of scene, but you absolutely do not want to be alone with him. While you don’t know him well, your body does. Something also tells you that he’s a bit of a danger to be around in general. Call it a gut instinct.

“Uh… Well, maybe you could walk me to my door?” You have no intention of letting him in your apartment.

His eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he smiles regardless, and loops his hand through your sweaty one, strolling confidently towards the stairs.

About as soon as he lets go of your hand to ascend the stairs, you bolt up the stairs, your palms slapping against the dirty concrete to keep you from bashing your face. You’re glad you didn’t wear pumps today as you get to the third floor, careening down the hallway and fumbling your keys as you shakily unlock the door. You lock it behind you, slumping to the floor.

Tomorrow is gonna suck absolute ass for you.

#twisted wonderland #tw: dark content #disney twst #tw: dark themes #tw: yandere #yandere #twst #anon answered #yandere epel x reader #epel felmier #twst epel #twisted wonderland epel #yandere epel felmier #epel felmier x reader #tw reincarnation #tw confusion #tw creepy #reincarnation

[that-one-gay-hufflepuff]

NPMD moments that made me hysterical (long post)

“Hehe they twisted his nipples off” 1:17

“They shit on my car sometimes!” 1:46

“🎶IM DEAD.🎶” 2:10

shit how do I not put the whole show on here….

“pRoBLeMaTiC PoOcH” 3:47

“Well, I got left behind this morning, bus driver’s a fucking asshole.” 5:00

“My titties are tenderized” 8:06

“Everyone knows how he bANGS” 9:47

“It’s third period shit-lips, I’ve gotta get to remedial algebra.” 10:50

“Oh, well, there’s a difference between intent and impact. I learned that at the anti-bullying assembly last month FUCK-NUGGET” 11:08

“Ha, hahaha, SPUNK.” 13:03

“I am only one man’s girl, Max, and his name is ✨jeSus cHrist✨, mKay.” 13:56

“Stephanie, please, I’d like to have an intelligent conversation with you. -In other words, shut up.” 16:33

“Stephanie, do you have any idea what’s coming up in a mere matter of weeks?

The elec-

The Election.”

16:46

“Did you just throw your hand BETWEEN the hammer and the phone.” 18:12

“HOW. AM I SUPPOSED TO STUDY. WITHOUT LISTENING. TO SPOTIFY. OK????” 18:39

“This projects on thermodynamics, what the fuck are you talking about.” 19:14

“What was it like when she touched your arm…. 👏🏻Did you cum.” 20:09

“naNI”

21:06

“….what is she saying…. ..wHAT THE FUCK IS SHE SAYING.” 21:27

“YOURE TELLING ME I GOTTA BE FUNNY AGAIN???? I DIDNT DO IT ON PURPOSE THE FIRST TIME???” 23:03

“I’m as cool as she thinks I am 👉🏻👈🏻 I’m as cool as she thinks I am 👉🏻💞👈🏻 Oh whoa whoa. MMM” 25:09

“so you’re a POOR piece of shit then?” 27:11

EDIT-ALSO SHOUTOUT TO @loooongfurby4444 FOR REMINDING ME AB: “Awwww… Had to sell your bow tie to feed your fucking family :C???”

“Well, nothing says yummy like a mouthful of Mother’s meatloaf.” 29:16

“I only believe in one ghost Grace, the Holy Spirit that resides in all our hearts…” 29:51

“Me? And Max? In carnal embrace? That’s ridiculous! Mom, will you pass the butt-stuff?- …the butter, will you pass the butter. I just want some head and butter- BREAD. BREAD AND BUTT-SEX TO GO WITH THIS BIG SHAFT OF MEAT IM ABOUT TO CHOKE DOWN.” 30:38

“You all just watch each other pee??? Oh, it’s better than I ever imagined!” 40:03

“I’m not breaking anything, my dad’s the realtor. *ear shatteringly loud key jangling*” 42:25

“WELL THEN IM GONNA HAVE TO SHOOT THE WHOLE THING IN A WIDE, AND ITS GONNA LOOK LIKE SHIT.” 47:37

“‘You’re like, super nice to me.’

‘Not really. I’m just doin the bare minimum here.’

‘You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.’

‘Oh, that’s sad.’

‘I think I’m in love with you’

‘…..ok 👍🏻….’” 48:37

“I always knew you fuckers were real! I’ve been scared of you my whole life! ….But it’s time to stop running. *downs beer can and crunches it against his head*” 56:16

“Oh shit! Oh fuck! I didn’t think there’d be a sKele’un here! I’m so fucking scared of sKele’uns!” (missed the time on this one)

“🎶We’re gonna bury the body 😀🎶” 56:54

“I just cut off his nips 😗” 58:10

“‘Hey Pete, wait up! Good news.’

‘You passed the test?’

‘With flying colors.’

‘Oh-ho! A….. C+. Steph that’s amazing!’” 1:00:10

-

I ran out of time so ima leave this as a part 1 and see if I finish…. K byeeeeeee

#npmd spoilers #nerdy prudes must die #peter spankoffski #richie lipschitz #ruth fleming #stephanie lauter #grace chasity