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endlessthxxghts · 6 months

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Animals

DBF!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈2.5k

Summary: Joel randomly calls you and tells you to meet him outside. Your parents are home though, and you can't necessarily tell them that Joel, your father's best friend, is asking you to go with him somewhere. Do you give a little white lie and leave, or do you wait until it's safer?

Warnings: Age gap (unspecified, but legal). Reader still lives with parents but she is an adult. Nosy and controlling ass parents to their child who's a grown ass adult. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Inappropriate car activities while driving. Handjob. Blowjob. Pulling into a parking lot in broad daylight to do some stuff... P in V unprotected. ✨Save a horse, ride a cowboy (in a parking lot)✨ Reader has bit of a size kink. Cum swallowing... Is there a term for kissing with semen in both y'all's mouths??? (Don't look at me...). Possessive kink. Spanking (just once though). Getting caught... Exhibitionism...😵‍💫 I think that’s as much as I can say without spoiling anything, so! After you read it, let me know if there’s anything that I should put in here that I missed out on!

A/N: One of my all-time favorite songs is Animals by Nickelback. As of lately, though, with all my Joel brain rot, I can't NOT think DBF!Joel every time I play it... so... here we are... I recommend listening before or when you read, just to really add to the experience hehehe.😈 @javierpena-inatacvest I hope you’re hungry!😋 Enjoy, y’all!!!

MASTERLIST

You’re beside me on the seat,

Got your hand between my knees,

And you control how fast we go by just how hard you wanna squeeze.

“Two minutes, get your ass outside.”

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head. You blindly brought your phone up to your ear with your parents in the room with you, not taking the time to check the caller ID.

“I-” you start as you head to the bathroom, not wanting your parents to overhear anything. “I can’t just leave right now, and especially not with you.” He scoffs over the phone. “I was at the dining table with my parents, jackass.”

“But you’re not anymore, right?”

“No.”

“And they didn’t question you?”

“Didn’t give them the chance to.”

“Just get out here. I’ll drive off quick, no one will see,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Joel,” you say, your tone betraying your logical responses.

“Now,” he says before ending the call.

Your heart racing, you peer at yourself in the mirror, making sure you look semi-presentable even though you know Joel’s intentions are going to ruin your appearance anyway. You leave the bathroom, heading for the front door as fast as possible.

“Who called ya?” your dad asked.

“Going somewhere?” your mother followed.

“Just a friend. And I’m gonna step out real quick, I’ll be back in a bit,” you say nonchalantly, not trying to raise any suspicion. Your mother raises her brow at you.

“I really hope you both find the value in respecting people’s privacy,” you say, stepping out the front door as you speak, erasing the chances of any further commentary. That may have come across more harsh than you would have liked, but even into adulthood, the three of you have gotten into huge fights for your whereabouts. It’s not like you left them in the dark all the time or kept them up late waiting for you to get home. You were living under their roof, so you still respected their time. Yet, it was never enough. And you were too wound up thinking about Joel to bite your tongue.

He parked a house away, and you’re practically running at the speed of light to get into the passenger side so he can pull away before your parents decide to make it to the window to gain any more information they can.

As soon as you get into the passenger seat, though, Joel has different plans as he immediately puts one hand around your waist and the other on the thigh closest to him. You’re barely able to shut the door before he pulls you into the middle of the bench seat of his truck, your body flushed against his. You squeak out at his quickness, his strength. He smirks at it.

He lets his hand on your thigh drag up your body and situate itself on your jaw, turning your face to his and kissing you deeply, all tongue and teeth and thickened spit due to how fucking turned on both of you are.

You pull away, breathless, “Baby, you need to drive off, now.”

“Shit, sorry,” he says, releasing his hold on you. “Stop distractin’ me,” he playfully scolds, a smile full of trouble across his face as he pulls out of the neighborhood.

You scoff at him now, perplexed at his audacity to tell you that you’re distracting him. It makes an idea pop in your head. You’ll show him a distraction.

You shift your body to face him. Your hand lands on his thigh, running up and down lightly, getting closer to his hardened bulge that’s been begging for your attention since he dialed your number.

His grip on the wheel tightens, his jaw twitching, “Darlin’,” he grits. “What are you doin’?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say as you lean in closer, licking a stripe up his neck, your mouth at his ear. “Just,” you cup his erection, “being a distraction.”

His hips push up into your hand. He is painfully hard right now, his entire neck and face a bright red from your ministrations. You unzip his jeans, pulling it and his underwear down to let his cock free. You moan at the sight.

“I’m warnin’ you, girl.”

“Want me to stop?”

Silence.

He moves his arm closest to you to sprawl along the back of the bench seat, giving you complete access to him as he attempts to drive you two to God knows where.

You scoot closer in, and let out a content giggle. You place a wet kiss at his pulse point, whispering in his ear, “Thought so, baby.”

You bring your hand up to your mouth and let your spit pool in your hand, bringing it back down to his length, spreading it all over before you wrap your fingers around him.

“Joel, baby, fuck-” you moan in his ear as you slowly begin pumping him, “look how fucking big you are in my hands,” you whine. “Can barely wrap my hand around you,” you say as you nip at his neck again.

Joel begs his eyes to stay on the road, knowing that if he were to look down right now, he’d lose every ounce of his control — on both his self restraint and his damn truck. But, God damn, the slapping sound of your hand on his spit-soaked cock as you whine and writhe at his side has him desperate. He glances down for barely a millisecond, and he can’t help the groan that leaves his throat, his head threatening to throw itself back in utter pleasure.

“Am I doing good, baby?” You ask him. “A good distraction?” You add, your lips ghosting his jaw with each syllable.

“F-fuckin H-hell, baby,” he stutters, hips softly meeting every push and pull of your hand. “G-gonna make me c-crash this f-fuckin’ car.”

With his admission, your grip gets a little tighter, pumps get a little faster, and you're giving extra attention to the head of his cock. He’s pulsing beneath you, breathing erratic, and you can’t stop the urge to lean down and take him into your mouth.

On instinct, Joel’s foot falls a little heavier on the gas, causing him to drive a little roughly over a bump on the road. His dick pushes deeper into your mouth, causing the tip to hit at the back of your throat.

The spit that forms from your gag reflex gives you an easier ability to devour him just as he likes—warm, wet, and sloppy. Your head begins to bob faster, your hand still supporting the base of him as you periodically cup him below, and he’s an absolute mess.

You pull away for one moment in a choked breath, your hand now jacking him off, and you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“I know you’re close, baby, I feel it,” you gasp out as your hand squeezes a little more, at the pressure you know makes him break. “Need you to cum, baby, need you to fill my fucking throat,” and with that, your mouth is back on him.

“Oh, f-fu-…” Joel nearly growls out, immediately pulling into some random parking lot, thankful the nearest slot was empty. The second the car is in park, he’s shooting his load down your throat, his hand flying to the back of your head to keep you stuffed full of him.

The way that you’re so turned on right now just by giving him the sloppiest head he has ever experienced has you absolutely dripping—an absolute moaning mess, vibrating him into overstimulation. He pulls you off, and you can’t help the blissed out smirk that forms on your face as you swallow almost everything he gave you, residue dripping down your chin.

He brings your face to his, and his tongue collects up his own spend, feeding it back to you in a desperate, sloppy kiss—if you can even call it that.

As your lips tangle in a nasty embrace, he’s quick to rip your bottoms off as he settles you on his lap. The feel on your pussy of his spent cock slowly getting erect again has you moaning into his mouth, your hips grinding down onto him, arousal coating him, urging him back to his full, hard length.

“Sh-shit,” falls from your mouth as his trails further down, leaving kisses down your throat. Joel brings his hand down to pump himself a few more times, ensuring he’s at full attention. Your hips lift up on instinct, Joel notching his tip at your soaking entrance.

You lower yourself onto him, going in with ease with how wet both you and him are, the stretch of him still providing that delicious burn. No matter how prepared or lubed up either of you are, that burn will never go away. You never want it to. It flips a certain switch of lust within you—an animalistic need—knowing just how fucking big he is, knowing that it’s all for you.

Usually when you’re on top, he’s extra sensitive, and you wait for him to give the signal for you to move. That need is there, though, and you can’t wait. As soon as your hips are flushed with his, you’re immediately lifting back up and dropping down on him again, maintaining a brutal pace that has you both uttering incoherent filth.

You place your hands on either side of his head, gripping the back of his seat to give you better momentum as you bounce on him. His hands are gripping at the globes of your ass, guiding your movements, fingertip-shaped bruises threatening to form. “Fuck, sweet girl,” he lets out, “just like that, baby.” His face is nuzzled in between your breasts, nipping and licking at them with every bounce of your thrusts.

His words cause your pussy to flutter, a possessive feeling gliding down your spine. Your one hand releases the chair and grasps at the curls on the base of his neck. “T-tell me,” you stutter, “t-tell me who my p-pussy belongs to,” you get out, licking into his mouth before you let him answer.

His hips begin to meet your movements, his pubic bone providing the cherry on top to unravel you. His lips are against yours, breaths intertwining into the thick air, windows beginning to fog. “Mine,” Joel growls. Your hips speed up, the truck shaking and squeaking with every movement. “This pussy is mine. You,” he breathes, “are fuckin’ mine,” a stinging pain fills your senses before your brain registers the slap to your ass.

Your thighs begin to shake and your body goes rigid, your climax teetering against the edge.

“Joel,” you cry out.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, let go for me,” he coos. And just as he’s about to hold you down to fuck up into you, a car parks right next to you, door immediately slamming as the person gets out and urgently peers into the driver’s side window.

Both of you are too close to stop your movements, the person’s face outside the car falling into pure horror and shock at what’s going on inside.

“Oh!” you scream out, both of you using all your strength to stop but unable to.

“That’s my dad outside the car!”

Oh please, the keys, they’re not in the ignition,

Must have wound up on the floor while we were switching our positions.

Before you know it, you’re pulsing around his cock as he fills up another one of your holes with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

Neither of you realize just when your father scrambled back into his car and drove away, but the idea of getting caught turned both of you on more than you’d ever admit.

You don’t get off of him just yet, both of you sitting in each other’s sweaty embrace as you let your breathing and heart rates return to normal.

“So…” he says, rubbing circles on the small of your back.

You look up at him, chin perched on his chest. “So,” you giggle.

“What the fuck do we do?” he asks, wordlessly referring to the mishap with your father.

Not as worried, you mess with him before giving a serious answer. “Mmm,” you say as you place a light kiss to his chest, “I was thinking you give me your boxers since you ripped the only bottoms I have on me, and you deal with the jeans chafing your balls until you get back home.”

His eyes go wide, completely forgetting that he did that, and silently cursing himself for doing something so stupid. Luckily he decided to actually wear underwear today.

“Oh, fuck, baby, I’m so sorry, I just-” he pauses for a moment. “You fuckin’ distracted me!” he says before he completely busts out in laughter, a deep howl filling the car. You smack his chest, your laughter following suit.

“You motherfucker,” you say, sitting up a little straighter, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

He smiles at you, pure warmth and adoration in his eyes. He clears his throat, his face a little more serious. “I, uh, I was actually talkin’ about your old man, though.”

“I know,” you say, completely unbothered.

“Are you not worried?”

You shrug your shoulders. “No.”

“You don’t think he’s gonna try and wring my neck out?”

“Baby,” you laugh, “no, he’s not gonna wring your neck out. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

“Oh, gee. Thanks,” he deadpans.

“I promise you, I’ve got it taken care of.”

His fingers grasp your chin, pulling you in for another kiss, a little longer than the last. “I trust you.”

As soon as you enter the front door, you see both your parents at the dining table again. Though, this time around, instead of controlling and angry, they look pale and embarrassed.

You stroll to the dining table, not caring to sit down, and you get straight to the point. They can’t even look you in the eye.

“So? Did we learn our lesson about-”

“Yes,” your parents say in unison, “please just,” your mother continues as your dad starts to retreat anywhere else but here. “Let’s not talk about it.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles in your chest.

“You’re a grown woman,” your mother says, rigidly. “It’s really not our business what you do anymore.” You peer at your father. He throws a thumbs up at your mother’s words, eyes still trained on everything else but you.

“Glad ya guys came to your senses,” you say, offering a smug smile. You can’t help it. If catching you having the steamiest sex in an older man’s car is what causes them to stop breathing down your neck, then so be it. You’d have intentionally done something like this ages ago if that’s what it took.

You start heading to your room when your dad finally speaks. Still unable to look you in the eyes. “Tell Joel I don’t give a fuck what he does—what y’all do—just,” he pauses to take a breath. “Tell him not to address any of this with me. Ever.”

“Deal.”

No, no matter where we go,

‘Cause everybody knows,

We’re just a couple animals.

End Note: Well. That killed me. The amount of laps I took writing this...🥴 Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc, — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback for my stories (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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elisysd · 4 months

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47. I wanna be better, I wanna be new but I can’t be those things next to you

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Next to You - Charlotte Cardin

The ride back from the villa to Monaco made Julia realize how she had lived in a protective bubble, away from reality, for a few days and how much she had needed it. She had to admit, waking up with the breakfast already made, Martin training in the pool or in the backyard while she would read or draw in the morning, their long conversations about life and the struggles they both had gone through, the movies and board games nights… she would miss all of that. Not necessarily Martin, but the sense of comfort and peace he had brought her. Something she had longed for a while. If Ethan had been a beautiful storm in her life, Martin had been the calm after it. He had helped her put back the first broken pieces of herself and now she had to do the rest. But most of all, she had won a friend. It had brought them closer, that was for sure and she also knew that it wouldn’t stop that fast considering Martin’s physiotherapist would be the one who would train her to get back her full mobility. Martin had joked about how soon she would take his place in the car as Ernesto Falcone was a gem in the field. She would be back on her feet in no time, Martin had assured her.

When he dropped her in front of the hospital, he had asked her if she needed him to stay, not sure if he could or should leave her alone. She had assured him that everything would be fine and confidently, she had made her way to the front door of the hospital. Feeling and seeing her casts finally away from her made her feel lighter and happier. It was as if she could finally say goodbye to the events of the wedding. It was bittersweet but if it meant she could finally allow herself to move on, then it was the right thing to do. She needed her crutches and her wrist still needed to be looked after but it was a lot better. From now on, it would be full time training with Martin and Ernesto until it would be time for the second part of the season. She was looking forward to it. Going back to the paddock, watching the races, cheering on her friends, learning as much as possible to help for the development of the next car. She was excited.

Once out, she called her mom so she could come to pick her up and sat down on a bench, enjoying the sun on her face. She texted Romy to let her know she was home and asked her if she was up for a call during the week to which her best friend replied that she was more than just up to it and that Julia had a lot to tell her. She was still with Kyle, enjoying peaceful days at her place away from the hustle-bustle of the city. When she finally saw her mom's Ferrari, she let out a sigh of relief. She limped to the car as her mom was getting out, engulfing her in a hug before putting her bag on the backseats.

“I’m so happy to see you. How are you doing? Did the break away from Monaco help you to feel better? I want to know everything.”

And Julia did tell her everything. Once finally home, she was welcomed by a very excited Bailey and a hug from her dad and her brother, happy to finally see her out of her wheelchair. Her dad announced to her that in order to properly celebrate her new position at Ferrari he had made a reservation to her favorite restaurant in Monaco. She had whispered to Louis if Ethan would join them but her brother only shook his head, negatively and looked at his feet.

“He said it would be too awkward for him.”

“I’m sorry, Louis.”

“Not as much as me.”

She wanted to say something but Louis didn’t give her time. She watched him disappear up the stairs, probably to isolate himself and recharge his social batteries before going out.

“I knew the break up with Ethan would affect him but I hoped it wouldn’t be this much.”

“He still talks to him a lot. When you were away in Maranello with your dad he was always on his phone chatting with him. Your dad is not so thrilled about it, by the way.” said her mom, taking a seat next to her daughter.

“Of course, he isn’t… Ethan is not a bad person and he cares a lot about Louis. We can trust him.”

“That’s what I told your dad. I don’t think he is mad about Ethan, I think he is really disappointed. I know he is attached to him. He saw him grew up and become the man that he is today, I think at some point he almost considered him as a son. He took Max’s place in certain areas and I think a part of him thinks he failed Ethan.”

“It’s stupid. Is it still because of Canada?”

“Yeah. And other things that are not about Ethan… These past few weeks have been tough for your dad.”

“Should I be worried? Is it about Ferrari and Carlos?”

“I don’t think you should. Your dad doesn’t really tell me anything.”

Julia shrugged, still a bit worried and it didn’t die down when her dad came back from his office, visibly frustrated.

“Fucking Carlos! I swear he will never stop from finding a new way of making my job harder than it needs to be!”

“What’s wrong?” Julia asked.

“He is reducing his sponsorship. Since Elijah is moving to WEC, still for Ferrari and Carlos is one of his personal sponsors besides being one of the team, he wants to reduce the investment. He says that the team is not reliable enough for him to risk losing money. I don’t understand! We are P2, thanks to you Ju’. What else does he want? It’s not like we can close the gap with Lamborghini, they are too far ahead. And unless, suddenly the car starts to be unreliable, they will be crowned World Champion. We have seven races left, we can’t do anything besides still increasing the gap with Audi and get data for the next car.”

“Honey, it’s still summer break… what do you think of no more work related talk. We are going out, let’s forget about all of that and have a nice family dinner.” Lyanna sighed.

“Yeah… you’re right. I’m sorry. No more work talk. It’s family time.”

And they had a great time. It has been a while since Julia had felt this relaxed and had laughed so much. They left the restaurant late at night and the moon was high in the sky. They were about to go to the car when Louis let out a scream.

“Ethan! You came!”

Julia turned around and almost tripped when she saw him, leaning against the passenger side door of his Maserati.He was wearing a black tuxedo and had two bouquets of roses in his hands. When he saw the family, he slowly made his way kissing Lyanna’s cheeks twice, handing her one of the bouquets before turning to Julia.

“Hey…”

“Hi” she whispered.

“This… this one's for you. I’m glad to see you out of all those casts.”

“How did you know?”

“Louis told me you had a doctor appointment to remove them today.” he explained, his eyes glued to the ground as if he was ashamed to know.

“Is that everything you are here for?” she asked.

“I tried to text you. To ask how you were doing. My texts didn’t go through, did you block me?”

“I had to. It was too hard… I’m not saying it will be forever, it's just for now, it hurts too much. I’m sorry.’

‘I understand. But Louis told me you were okay for the boat day. I wouldn’t blame you if you were backing down, I don’t want you to feel like you have to for Louis.”

“I want to. And we will see each other a lot anyway, we have friends in common, we will cross paths in the paddock… might as well get used to your presence, now, so it won’t get awkward.”

“Good, then…” he gulped before looking at Charles who had a protective arm around his wife’s waist. “Can I talk to you? It’s important…”

Lyanna put a hand on her husband as if to say to be nice and he indicated Ethan to follow him. They went in an alleyway, away from everyone and wouldn’t have been anyone else but Charles, Ethan would have seriously thought he was going to get killed.

“Mr Leclerc… I… I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning?”

“I want to apologize. For a lot of things. For what I did back then in Canada and for the way it all ended with Julia. I shouldn’t have gone radio silent, I should have been by her side when she had her accident. I know I scared you and you have all the right to get mad at me. I’m sorry I disappointed you. I think besides the break up, it’s what is hurting me the most. You’ve always believed in me, even when people were saying that I wasn’t that worthy of it and I proved to them they were right when it should have been the opposite.”

He heard Charles sighing before feeling a warm hand on his shoulder and soon a broad chest against his cheek.

“I’m sorry too. About a lot of things. About how I treated you, about how things ended between you and Julia. You can always count on me, Ethan. You’re not alone, you have never been. I appreciate you owning up to your mistakes, it means that you grew up and that makes me proud.”

“So we’re good?”

“Call me Charles, please.”

And Ethan knew everything was fine. The next day, he felt ready to spend it with Louis. It would be fun, he knew it, but a part of him was dreading the afternoon. He had promised Louis to take him on the boat to see the coastline and the sun setting. He couldn’t suddenly tell him that he didn’t feel like it. His palms were sweating, his heart was about to jump out of his chest and he wanted to throw up. He was not supposed to feel like this. She was not supposed to make him feel like this. But seeing her after two weeks, still as beautiful as ever, it did make him feel a tingle in his stomach. And he felt stupid about how he had tried to forget her in arms of other women. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to forget her.

When he arrived in front of the Leclerc’s house, Louis was already waiting for him, wearing a full blue outfit and his backpack firmly adjusted on his shoulders. He almost ran to the car when he saw it parked in the driveway and asked him if they could go.

“I should say hello to your family first before kidnapping you for the day.”

“You don’t want to say hello to my mom and dad, you only want to say hello to Julia. But I understand, she talked a lot about you yesterday.”

“She did?” Ethan asked, surprised.

“No. But you fell for it which means that you thought about her a lot yesterday.” Louis replied with a proud smile.

“You are a little genius. You got me. And yeah, I did think about her a lot. I think about her a lot, most generally.”

“Because you love her.”

“Because I love her.”

As if she heard they were talking about her, Julia got out of the house and Ethan gulped when he noticed she was wearing a playsuit. It was so stupid to feel this way, he was not a horny teenager anymore, he knew how to behave, seeing her bare legs shouldn’t have this effect on him.

“My dad is out for a run and my mom is on the phone with someone. I just wanted to say a few things about Louis and…”

“It’ll be fine. It’s not the first time we are going out.”

“I know but if he has a panic attack, I want you to know exactly…”

“Joolsie. It’s fine, I promise. If I see him spiraling we will leave and I’ll bring him home. Don’t worry, he’s safe with me.”

“I know he is. You’re probably the only person out of the family I trust him with.”

“And about tonight… are you still up for it?”

“Sure, do you want me to join you guys on the harbor?”

“We can come back to get you. So Louis can get rid of his stuff or if he wants to change.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.” he added.

“You guys look like divorced parents…” said Louis, coming to them and startling them in the process. “I’ll be okay! Can we go now?”

Julia gave Louis one last hug before letting him go. She hated the idea to leave her brother alone with Ethan. Not that she was worried about what could happen, she trusted the blond driver enough to know he would know how to react. But she hated the idea to be the subject of their conversation and to not have any control over what was being said. She was not stupid, she knew they were going to talk about her, even more considering the little boat escape planned for the late afternoon.What if Ethan was planning something with Louis? Trapping her, without any possibilities to escape.

She spent the day near her phone, the volume put to the maximum to make sure she wouldn’t miss a call and when it rang she rushed to her phone.

“Ethan? Is everything okay?”

“It’s not Ethan…”

“Martin, sorry. I was expecting someone else…”

“Yeah, that I gathered. What’s happening?”

“Nothing special. Louis is out with Ethan and we are supposed to meet for a little trip on his boat.” she quickly explained.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“About the boat? It’s going to be a diner. Louis will be there. I do that for him. It’s fine, I just have to focus on that.”

“You’re blocking your feelings. You’re trying to avoid them.”

“I don’t.” she hissed.

“Juls.”

“Okay, fine! What do you want me to say? That the idea of being alone with him makes me want to run away? Because I know that as soon as he will look at me with his ice blue eyes, I will want to stay there forever. That the way he cares about Louis and how my brother looks up to him so much makes my heart melt? That no matter how hard I try and want to, I still want to unblock him and text him and beg him to forgive me so we can start again? I love him, Martin. And it hurts so much to love him.” she finished with a sob.

“Breathe, Julia. What you are feeling is normal, the break up is fresh. You’re still hurting. It’s fine. And Ethan is probably the same.”

“When is it going to stop?”

“I don’t know, Julia… I really can’t tell you.”

“Anyway, why did you call?”

“I wanted to ask how you were doing now that you don’t have your casts anymore.”

“I feel lighter, I can’t wait to start the physiotherapy.”

“Good to hear you are motivated. Have you ever considered adding real therapy to that? With everything that happened and the crash….”

“I don’t need one.” she refused categorically.

“Avoiding your feelings like that, trying to pretend you are okay when you definitely aren’t, controlling everything because you are scared of letting go… that’s not healthy.”

“Fuck off, Martin.”

“And I put my finger on something, I guess.” she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ve been to therapy. It lasted years, okay. I don’t want to go back there.” she said, in a low voice.

Hearing her tone, Martin quickly understood that it was no use to try to argue with her. He dropped the subject by quickly talking about how he had his sister on the phone earlier and how he was so happy about it. He hadn’t been able to call her for about four months because of the races, the constant traveling and the fact that Georgia was busy with school as well. Even if the call had been short, much to his regret, he was still happy to know she was doing okay. Julia could see that he almost added something, that it had been on the tip of his tongue but he stopped himself last second. She wouldn’t have been this concerned if it hadn’t been for the dark look he had on his face.

“I have to go… Gotta prepare myself.” she said, in a gulp.

“You’ll be beautiful, his jaw is going to drop.”

“I don’t know about that… I’ll be on his boat, I don’t want to be too overdressed.”

When she hung up she could see a few texts from Louis telling her that they were almost done with the aquarium and that he couldn’t wait to show her the pictures. She smiled, happy to see her brother having fun. She didn’t expect to receive a selfie, taken by Ethan, of them doing a weird pose in front of a replica of a shark skeleton. She laughed a little, replying with a heart emoji before going to her bathroom to change. She hesitated a lot in front of her wardrobe. Should she go in a dress? If yes, which type? Wouldn’t it be too overdressed? Should she wear a simple pair of jeans? Or shorts? Wouldn’t she be, in this case, too underdressed? Why was it so hard to choose an outfit!

Her eyes fell on the gold dress Ethan wanted her to wear for the wedding and she let out a sigh. It felt like years ago. It was a beautiful dress she had to admit and regretted not having an occasion to wear it anymore. She passed her hand on the material. When she had bought it, she had imagined a nice occasion with it. She didn’t know what exactly, she only knew it wouldn’t have been a dinner in a restaurant, or a sponsor event she would have needed to attend. She just knew it would have been special.

Her choice finally went to a blue linen dress with a pair of white sandals, it still gave summer vibes, it fitted well with the setting and she was feeling pretty and comfortable. She decided on minimal makeup and soon it was time for her to go. The Maserati appeared in the corner of the street as soon as she was out and was in her driveway when she finished locking the door. She could see her brother and Ethan still laughing in the car and for a minute she wondered where she would sit. Behind them, of course, she thought, and the pang it caused to her heart made her want to turn away.

Chin up, she walked to the car and opened the door to sit behind Louis who as soon as her belt was buckled started to tell her about every fish he had seen, mentioning every single detail he had memorized. She was grateful for it as it made the car ride a lot less uncomfortable for her. In the rear view mirror she could see Ethan giving her little glances, from time to time and when she finally caught a glance that lingered longer than the others she swore she could read a sadness in them that made her feel even guiltier about the situation. She was able to breathe better when they finally arrived at their destination. Ethan led them inside the little yacht and soon they made their way to the middle of the sea.

“I didn’t know you knew how to drive a boat…” she said, trying to make small talk.

“There are still many things you don’t know about me, Joolsie. I would have loved to show them to you.”

“You still can…”

“But not in the way I want to.”

She was about to reply when she saw Louis arriving with his phone, ready to show her something. He took her by the hand, wanting to absolutely show her something in the sea. She tried to focus but couldn’t see anything beside the glistening surface.

“Ethan asked me if I wanted a girlfriend. He said that he could introduce me to some people…” Louis said out of the blue.

“And what did you tell him?”

“That I was in love with Romy but that it would be best if I stopped it because she is happy with Kyle and I want to see her happy.”

“That’s very mature of you.”

“And then, Ethan told me that the best way to forget someone was to get under somebody else.”

“He said what?” she gasped.

“That I…”

“No… I perfectly understood what he said. Excuse me for a minute, Louis, I’ll be back.”

She furiously went back to Ethan who gulped when he saw her arrived.

“What are you trying to teach my brother, Verstappen?” she stood in front of him.

“What did I do?”

“The best way to forget someone is to get under someone else? Who do you think you are?”

“I mean… it’s the saying.”

“You sure know a lot about that? That’s something you are doing a lot lately, right?”

“I see someone is stalking me.”

“Don’t turn my brother into a mini you. That’s all I’m saying.” she stated and as she was about to leave when he grabbed her arm to pull her against him.

“You’re so jealous.”

“I’m not. We broke up, you can do whatever the hell you want. Or in your case you can do whoever you want.” she hissed.

“I stopped you know. Trying to forget you in someone else’s arms. It doesn’t work. You’re too engraved in my memory, Julia.” he whispered against her ears, making her shiver.

“You went back to your old fuckboy ways.”

“I thought it would be easier, that I could cope with the pain better this way. I was wrong. So wrong. You’re the only one I want to hear whispering my name, you’re the only want I want to see come undone between my hands. You’re the only one, Joolsie.”

She instinctively clung to his shirt as one of his hands found her waist.

“You can’ say things like this, Ethan.” she said, her voice shaking.

“Why? Because it makes you feel things? Because it makes you want to kiss me? Because it makes you want to run to me?”

“All of the above.”

“We can try to make us work out, Julia. If two people can do it, it’s us. I just wish you had as much faith in us as me.”

“We already had this conversation…”

“I know and I’m not trying to make you change your mind. I let you have your space and when you’ll be ready, I’ll be there. It’s just… It’s hard.”

“Don’t think it’s easy for me.”

He let out a frustrated sigh before releasing his grip on her.

“Can I be honest?” he asked.

“Of course. I expect you to always be honest with me….”

“I know we said we could still be friends but the truth is I can’t. I don’t want to. And I think I prefer to have none of you than half of you.”

A part of her expected that to happen, she just didn’t think it would be this soon and this brutal.

“I love you. I want to be with you, fully. When you’ll have made up your mind. For now, I just think it’s too hard for both of us. We are not ready.”

“I know we are not. I just thought that maybe… Louis could help us getting closer, again, and…”

“We don’t need Louis for that, Julia. We are close. Closer will come when we’ll both get rid of our insecurities and our own struggles. We both deserve to be the best versions of ourselves for each other.”

She nodded, her eyes glued on the horizon.

“Can I selfishly ask for one last hug?” she asked through the tears.

“You don’t need to ask.”

He took her in his arms, slowly rocking her back and forth. And when they both felt better, they went to find Louis, still looking at the sea, unaware of the fact that the two young adults had once again broken each other's hearts a little more.

Author's note: What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen

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yaz-the-spaz · 10 months

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rant time

so i’m seeing quite a few ppl bash liam’s stylist for supposedly forcing him to dress a certain way and i’m sorry but i just have to say something because it seems like there’s a startling lack of understanding of what a stylist’s job actually entails...

SO!

ready? ok!

first off, pretty much all (or most) major celebrities have stylists. the main point of their job is to help a celeb present an image that’s “on brand” with whatever that celebrity is trying to sell/promote at the time. case in point, to use the example i saw her and some in the fandom bring up, if liam’s constantly going around dressing like a rapper but trying to sell romantic/happy pop songs (esp as a british white boy) there’s a high chance it’s gonna ring disingenuous and *turn ppl off who might be less likely to wanna pay more attention to him/follow him/become fans of him, etc. - particularly if you’re trying to break the american market (where race tends to be highly associated with certain styles of dress and image/how you're perceived).

it doesn’t mean she thinks liam can’t dress himself or that she’s trying to control him/what he wears or keep him from wearing what he wants, she’s just trying to keep him on brand so that the way he looks fits what he’s trying to sell (and therefore actually helps sell the thing he’s trying to sell). he can wear whatever he wants in his free time or for other events and things she may not necessarily be involved in, but it’s her job to make sure that when he’s in front of cameras, whether that’s for pap pics, major events, performances or whatever the case may be, he looks on brand.

caroline watson literally did the same thing for 1d back in the active band days and the fandom still loves her. you can probably still find the video where she talks about what brand she was going for for each of the boys when she picked their outfits for tours and things - i don’t remember specifically what she said for the others boys but i do remember her making a comment about niall being the “sporty boy.” and given what niall has said more recently about how much he’s always loved to dress up (and that we often see him in more dressy things like slacks and button downs these days), i think it’s pretty safe to say that niall did not necessarily wanna be in sporty things all the time and what he wore in the band was not always on par with what he necessarily always wanted to be wearing. but he had an image to sell while on tour/doing press events so that's what he did. this is the case for most celebrities, not just liam.

and as for her promoting the beards - stylists are typically part of a pr team so that’s literally her job. it may be a shitty part of her job but that’s her livelihood and she still has bills to pay (and probably work contracts to adhere to) just like everyone else. and the same is true of the rest of liam’s team. i can’t speak to whether those things make her (or the others) a good or bad person since i obviously don’t know her (or any of them) personally and i/we can’t know all the ways they may or may not help or hurt liam behind the scenes, but ffs let ppl do their jobs without jumping down their throat all the time. sometimes other ppl have to promote the stunts or have to do or say certain things to help a celebrity sell something or stay in line with the contracts they may be beholden to and that’s just the (shitty) way the entertainment industry works. a job is a job is a job.

in conclusion, i’m just tired of seeing the fandom get mad at ppl for literally just doing their jobs. almost everyone has parts of their job they hate, but you probably still paste on a smile and do that thing anyway because you know if you don’t you’re likely gonna be out of a paycheck. the same is true of ppl who work in pr/entertainment. they’re still people, try not to forget that please.

(*speaking from personal experience this actually almost happened to me too when liam first started his solo debut in 2016 because as an american black girl watching this british white boy pop singer suddenly start dressing like a rapper it just felt kinda weird like he was putting on a front to seem “cool” or something and almost turned me off/made me not wanna pay attention to him even though I wanted to support his career, so I actually relate to/understand what his stylist was saying in that regard and I'm a little glad she/liam refined his style a little more because how he dresses now definitely feels like it's more fitting to his image and what he's selling, at least to me)

(oh and p.s. this little rant goes for connor and other folks on liam's pr team too)

ok, that will be all - thanks for coming to my tedtalk! ✌🏽

#liam #this is not meant to be a personal affront to anyone who was posting about her/saying negative things about her #i'm not saying you suddenly have to like her #(or connor)#or that everything she does is necessarily good #if you don't like her that's fine #i just think it's important to remember that not everything pr ppl do is a bad thing or a sign of them being controlling/abusive #posting about them/@-ing them or trying to get them to stop promoting beards or to support liam in the specific way(s) you feel they should #probably isn't going to change much of anything #pr images #public images #stylists #contracts #entertainment industry

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that1fangirrl · 2 months

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Angel- Chapter 5

When the girls first moved into their apartment, Jenevieve picked up a strange habit of going outside, climbing her fire escape and sitting on the roof of the building. She found it to be her comfort area where she could read, meditate, pace around, and more. Her mind was constantly racing, so having the rooftop made her feel more calm. Tonight was no different. After she finished crying in her bath, Jeni decided to clean herself up and head up to her favorite place with a couple of beers, the softest blanket she could find, and a new book she had been dying to open. Jen walks over to her favorite spot. There’s a giant floor pillow on the ground and the moonlight always tends to shine on it just right. She takes a deep breath as she takes a seat, opening her one of her beers. As she takes a sip, there’s a small sound that comes from her right. Her head turns quickly. She quietly gets up to check out the sound. “Maybe it’s just an alley cat or something.” The closer she gets, a red spec comes into view. “What the fuck is that?” She takes her glasses off, cleaning them a little. “Hello?” The figure turns around. They both jump a little. It’s a person… in a super suit? “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?” The figure speaks getting up. It has a devil shaped mask that only covers the eyes. His nose is bleeding slightly. “Um. I’m fine. Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding a bit. Do you need help or something? I can… I can help if you need.” “Oh, this is nothing. You should see the other guy.” He laughs a little. She smiles. “Okay. Is there a reason you’re up here? I mean, I guess heroes need a break too, right? You are a hero, right?” She starts to back away. Her heartbeat picks up a little. “I don’t necessarily think I’m a hero, but sure. I’m Daredevil.” “Sorry… Who?” “Daredevil. Man in the mask? Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?” She shakes her head. “Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell. To be fair, I’m not from this area. I only just moved here a couple of weeks ago.” “Oh. Well, anyway. You never answered earlier. Are you okay? You sound a little sad.” His face softens. She grabs his gloved hand and pulls him towards her area. “Have a seat first. Do you want a drink? It’s just some beers.” “Well, he seems fine. Maybe it would be better to just get it all out.” She decides. He shrugs and holds his hand out. She hands him the bottle. “I’m Jeni by the way. And, to answer your question, I’m fine. Just have a lot going through my mind, I guess. There’s just been so much shit happening around me. It can be a bit too much to take in at once.” He nods while he listens to her speak. “Do you wanna talk about it some more? I’m pretty much done for the night. I can stay- if you want me to, of course.” “That would be nice.” She smiles at him.

Jenevieve decides to tell this man that she’s only met a mere few minutes ago more about her current situation. After a while the two start to talk more about other things. Like the book Jeni is reading, what she’s doing in Hell’s Kitchen, how he became a “hero” and whatever else the two could think of at the moment. Of course Daredevil decided to keep some details to himself, but still wanted to make her feel a sense of comfort and trust. Jeni found herself becoming a little attached to the man in front of her. He seemed like such an interesting guy. She wanted to know who he was under the mask. But she knows that most heroes like to keep their identities to themselves, which she respected. It felt as if time had stopped and they were just sitting on a cloud together. She had never talked to someone so long in her life. The night carried on with her getting a little closer to him. Her head was on his shoulder as sleep started to slowly take over her body and mind. He looks down at her, stopping his story about the robbery from tonight. “Am I boring you now?” She laughs a little. “Oh definitely not. I was just listening. I guess your voice is just so soothing that I started to get sleepy. And maybe the beer helped too.” “I guess I should leave you be then.” “Yeah. I have court in the morning anyway. As if court isn’t boring on its own.” She pauses as she gets up with her things in hand. “Is there a way for us to meet again? I hate to admit it, but this was really nice.” He feels her cheeks heat up. “I’ll know how to find you. I promise, I’ll come by more often for you.” He leans in towards her ear, holding her with his gloved hand. “Don’t overthink too much tonight. Give your mind a break. Goodnight Jeni.” Jenevieve’s eyes grow big as he kisses her cheek and gives her small hand a little squeeze. She watches him walk off to the end of the roof. “Goodnight. Whoever youare.” She whispers the last part to herself, even though he still picks up on it. He smiles to himself, finally leaving the alleyway.

After her little encounter with the “Devil”, Jenevieve went straight to sleep. She wished the night had been longer, so she could find out more about him. Her interest in him had even transferred to her dreams. Her mind was now clouded with thoughts full of him. Even as she walked to work in the morning, she couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift to him. It wasn’t until Foggy had walked up to her, that Jenevieve realized she didn’t know how she had even gotten ready this morning. Let alone walking through the door of the firm. She blinked a few times, blushing in embarrassment. “Sorry, were you asking me something?” Foggy laughed a little. “Not really. I was just coming to check on you. You walked through the door looking like a zombie. I was worried you hadn’t gotten any sleep. Is everything okay?” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Oh I’m perfectly fine. I just zoned out a bit this morning. Sorry about that.” He lets out a small laugh. “Okay, good. Well, Matt should be here soon. Once he gets here, we can all head over to the courthouse. Sound good?” She nods looking down slightly. Foggy nods back, walking away towards his desk.

“Good morning Jenevieve. How was your night?” Matt asks, giving her a small smile. She looks up from her thick folder of papers. “It was… pretty good. How about you? No offense, but you look a little worn out.” She stares in concern. Foggy looks over at the two, silently tuning into their conversation. “Yeah. I- I just had a rough night. I’m usually like this before court. No need to worry.” In reality, he had spent the first half of his night taking care of the city. The other half was him enjoying his time with an unknowing Jenevieve. “Okay. Hey quick question. Have any of you heard of some guy named Daredevil?” Jenevieve watches as everybody else shares a look, before they all shrug. Foggy speaks up, “Kinda. He helped us a couple of times, but we mostly hear about him through the paper. Why do you ask?” She looks down, stuffing her hands in her sweater sleeves. “No reason. I kinda met him last night. Just wanted to know if you guys knew anything else about him. Anyway, I should probably get everything ready for later.” They all nod at each other as she walks out of the room. Karen watches Jeni fully step into a different room and out of earshot before she turns back to the boys. “You spoke to her last night? What happened to keeping a low profile?” She folds her arms looking towards Matt. “It’s not like I went searching for her. I was out patrolling and could hear her crying, so I stayed to make sure she was okay. I wasn’t exactly expecting her to come on the roof and find me there. But y’know she was having a rough night, so I decided to keep her some company to make her feel a little safer. Nothing wrong with that.” Matt finishes looking a little upset at the questions. He just wanted her to feel comfortable around him and if that meant masking himself then, so be it. “Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with that, but what happens if she finds out who you are under the mask? Remember how everything went to shit after I found out. It was horrible.” Foggy rubs his forehead before putting a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Look. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with what you did. But I do feel a bit awkward and bad for lying to Jeni like that. It’s not fair to her, even if she is new here. She seems like she keeps to herself. Maybe you should just come clean now. Less mess in the future if you hold it in for any longer.” Matt nods, “Maybe I could tell her after the charity event. I want her to at least try to have a good time. No need to put added stress on her. Her family already has that job down perfectly.” On cue, Jenevieve walked back into the room. “Okay, I’ve got all the papers. Court starts at 1 and it is currently 11:26. We could get some breakfast and coffee at Silk Joy, on me. And then start walking towards the courthouse. How does that all sound?” She looks up at everyone, biting her lip slightly. Matt could tell she had been biting it a couple of times throughout the morning. It was starting to form a bruise under her light rosy lipstick she had put on earlier that morning wanting to look more “professional and mature.” “That sounds… absolutely great. Your mind is always in the right place, Jeni. ” Foggy goes in for a fist bump. She fist bumps him back with a light laugh. “Glad to know I’m appreciated.” She smiles.

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x oc #angel #daredevil x reader

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sparkedblaze · 10 months

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I Am Having Thoughts. and also it is 4:30am. so pls consider. modern/medda adoption au. some of medda’s other kids - i’m leaning, like…race and albert. mischief seekers. - sort of accidentally getting morris drunk for the first time in his life.

they don’t really mean to - they’re not expecting him to be as much of a lightweight as he is, which isn’t at all helped by his not-great diet and the fact that he never touches alcohol. it’s just a bonding thing, the same as they’d do and have done for countless of other boys medda’s fostered that they’d wanted to try and befriend over the years. they manage to convince medda to convince oscar to let them hang out with morris for a bit, he’s around their age and they’ve never really interacted with him. so they go out to the end of the garden or something, or a nearby bit of woods maybe, and they sneak some drinks out with them (which albert resents, because they’re old enough, but he just knows medda wouldn’t approve - particularly of them drinking with morris, for reasons none of them really understand.)

they really don’t mean any harm. and, sure, race doesn’t exactly *like* morris just because jack doesn’t, but albert likes him well enough. they just don’t really Know most of what they should know, where the boundaries lay, how - while morris might be around their age - he can’t necessarily handle certain stuff. oscar would’ve told them, would’ve laid out exactly how careful they need to be, but medda’s been going on at him about how he needs to let morris have some freedom sometimes, so he’d bit his tongue and let morris go make friends.

he regrets it - regrets race and albert ever being born - when they bring morris back disoriented and overwhelmed and sick.

I WON'T WRITE ANYTHING BC AGAIN, I'M TRYING TO SAVE MY REAL WRITING JUICE FOR THE FIC EXCHANGE BUT HOLY SHIIIIIIT THIS IS AMAZING

GOD I LOVE THIS

OSCAR FINALLY LETTING MORRIS GO AND MAKE FRIENDS

BUT THEN AFTER HE HOLDS ON EVEN TIGHTER

IMAGINE-AND I WANNA HEAR ABOUT THIS WHEN YOU GET THE CHANCE (PREFERABLY AFTER YOU FKING SLEEP)

THE AFTERMATH.

ROMEO, WHO HAS BEEN SLOWLY MAKING FRIENDS WITH MORRIS. MIKE, WHO IS USUALLY TRUSTED TO BE ALONE WITH HIM BECAUSE THEY'RE THE SAME. IKE, WHO IS JUST AS PROTECTIVE OF HIS BROTHER AS OSCAR IS.

ALL THEIR TIME SPENT BUILDING RELATIONSHIPS WITH MORRIS, WASTED BECAUSE RACE AND AL JUST FELT LIKE SEEING HIM DRUNK?!

ROMEO IS P I S S E D. MIKE IS SO FUCKING SAD, WHICH MAKES IKE MAD. WHICH, OF COURSE, IN TURN MAKES HOTSHOT MAD.

AAAAAAND

DISCUSS

#nox #nox hurts #nox asks #nox what have you done

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i-mybrunettelady · 2 years

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Has angst been done for the oc ask yet? ;) 💀, 💧 and 🧠, if you're still open for these! Maybe Sionna?

Siona is the neglected bb and i’m so grateful when you guys ask about her bc i forget. i legit forget oof

💀 Has your OC ever lost anyone to death? Multiple people? People close to them? How does the loss make them feel?

She has - secondborn siblings that died due to Inquest experimentation (and she’s the oldest secondborn alongside Cadeyrn), who she felt responsible for as their older sister and a Warden; Cadeyrn himself, who she loved till the bitter end when El slit his throat, even if she didn’t approve of his choices; Trahearne, her mentor and and older brother.

She has a weird relationship with death, given that she’s a necromancer. It sustains her craft, but she doesn’t like it. She’s seen too much of it in her sapling days for it to fully make sense. Mostly, she just accepts it as necessary evil and doesn’t kill when she doesn’t have to.

💧 What makes your OC lose hope, what makes them give up and feel helpless? Have they ever given up on something really important or let go of a dream? What are some of their biggest regrets? Would they ever try again (if they’re able to)?

Her one biggest regret in life is not being able to either dissuade Cadeyrn from forming the Nightmare Court or getting him to rejoin the Dream later. I don’t think she had any place to dream growing up, because her race was young and she awoke with an innate sense of duty to her people, so doing what she does now feels like what it should be, even if it wouldn’t necessarily be her first choice, and that served her well in the war against Mordremoth, where she was on the front lines. If she wasn’t stationed alongside Laranthir (who she fell in love with during that campaign) she would’ve slowly lost hope as more and more sylvari either died or became Mordrem, so... Silver lining I guess???

🧠 Talk about your OCs mental health! Do they have any specific triggers or ways to practice self care? What are some things that are more difficult for them to do because of their mental health?

Mental health, so. Siona’s seen a lot of shit and a lot of loss and carries a level of angst from the sheer fact of her awakening as a secondborn sylvari. But she doesn’t struggle as much with it as some other beebs (see Nyra’s mental health, for example - comparable situations; and on another level, El’s mental health in yet another slightly less comparable situation because we’re talking about Elandrin Aien) because she does have a good support network and has been in some kind of therapy for a while now? She feels like it’s necessary if she doesn’t wanna fucking snap and she wants to do her job right. And she started pretty early, she had no reservations about asking for help, so she’s actually faring pretty well, I’d say, all things considered! Especially after Maguuma.

One of the most obvious and I wanna say biggest things that come of it is that she sometimes just doesn’t feel in the right headspace to be a leader. It exhausts her, it doesn’t come to her naturally, and sometimes, she just leaves that for that particular day to one of her trusted adjutants, right hand people, someone she trusts (and that’s usually her close friend and fellow high-ranking warden Ghenna) and spends the day on long walks with her minions. She says it’s for safety reasons, but she’d rather prefer she didn’t feel everyone’s emotions pressing down on her when her own are being problematic, right?? Only people she tolerates are her boyfriends, the Pale Tree and the Firstborn, as well as her besties Ghenna and Serimon :)

#gw2 #ask meme #siona nightthorn #gw2 sylvari #i'm honestly kinda surprised how much material i have for siona lore #considering she's a very side OC #but ya!!#necromancer plampt lady beloved

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nicos-archive · 2 years

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A normal get together

Jennifer grins as she lifts her sunglasses and lets them sit on top of her head.

“And how are my two favorite sluts doing tonight?” She asks, not bothering to even open the car door. The top was down, so she simply jumps over the door and situates herself in the middle seat. Janne doesn’t waste another second to start driving.

“Well, I’m not sure about him but, this slut is pretty sick of waiting on your fat ass to get ready.” Janne is the first to respond, not bothering to even spare her a glance as he focuses on the road. His passenger on the other hand fully turns to face her.

“Out of all the girl stereotypes you have to live up too, why is this one?” Grey sighs. If she were anyone else, she would be disgusted by his bad breath but, considering they’ve known each other for years now? She’s grown used to it. At least his breath didn’t smell nearly as bad today as it has in the past. Being a zombie, no matter how well he took care of himself, he could never get rid of the stench of death on his person or the rotting smell on his breath. At least the top was down and also lessened the stench coming her way.

“Call it payback for all the times you two suddenly ditch me.” Jennifer defends herself. Granted, it didn’t happen often but, there was also the times the two forgot she was there and got to… personal. A risk one takes when hanging out with a couple.

The two in question simply look at her and roll her eyes. “Sounds like someone doesn’t want to hear about how the anniversary date went” Grey looks away from her.

“Wait! No, I wanna hear about it!” She begs while grabbing his arm and ‘lightly’ tugging on it. She often forgets to hold herself back, being so comfortable around him. Which isn’t necessarily a problem, as reattaching a limb is no big deal for him. The real problem is someone seeing that as they were in public.

Even though she’s already listened to Janne’s side of the story, she was eager to hear Grey's side. As the matchmaker of the two it’s her right to be informed on such things after all. After he’s done filling her in, they take the time to catch up on other things and the conversation stays light. Video games she missed out on, inside jokes, even the little everyday things that he thought she would like to hear.

It was their first time seeing each other since she left the country. Months ago now. He doesn’t have much to fill her in on, as he spends most of his time in his house. Something of a neet. A term she’s picked up on her travels and happily boasted about. Only to get lightly teased by Janne for finally being ‘cultured’. Either way, it was nice to catch up.

“So, what should we do to celebrate the gang getting back together!” Jennifer yells over the wind.

“Hu? Isn’t speeding enough for you adrenaline junkies?” Grey responds.

“You say that like you aren’t the one who starts the street races.” Janne is quick to respond.

“That’s right, kid. Yer one of us now!” She adds in, her grin larger, than life.

Grey just rolls his eyes at the two. She wonders if they can get him to roll his eyes hard enough they pop out of his head again. Probably not the best thing to do at this moment. It would be a bitch to find his eye on the road. Before she can think more on the scenario, Grey speaks up.

“How about a movie?”

“Oh! My friend just got done with his latest snuff film. It should be showing at that place now. What do you think?” Janne turns to look at the two. Grey shrugs in response.

“Sure! I didn’t see any when I was in the states, so this film better be really good to make up for it!” Jennifer said.

“Yeah, no offense, but, the last one you showed me was faker than Jenny's American accent.” Grey adds.

“Hey! It actually sounds authentic now!”

Before the two could start a back and forth, headlights blind them. Janne had been speeding the whole time, not like anyone in the car minded but, as he tried to weave in between cars, he had gone into incoming traffic. Not the first time this had happened, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, as he could only be described as a reckless driver. Currently, there were in position that left them no choice but, to get in a head on collision as there was also a car to the side of them.

Everyone in the car laughs as Janne speeds up. They car they had passed suddenly stopped for no reason. Causing a crash. Good thing that had nothing to deal with them.

The truth was, before they could crash, she had ‘teleported’ the car to be right behind the truck. To anyone who could’ve possibly seen it, it was like a tick of the eye. One second the car was there and the next there was never a car on the wrong side of the road. Why would that even be?

“Should we eat first or nah” She suggests.

“Hmm, if we don’t get arrested, sure.” Grey speaks up right before police sirens start to screech.

“As if.” Janne scoffs.

Yep, it was just like any other get together they had. She really did miss this. Though next time it would be her turn to drive.

#orginal story #orginal writing #short story #OC Writing

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gayofthefae · 2 years

Text

Decided to key word search transcripts of every episode since “follow your heart” for the word heart and write down the section of dialogue. (And some are gonna be missed because sometimes it’s onscreen and talked about but the word “heart” isn’t used so I’ll put those in where I remember them). Most of them can be metaphors. Obviously, heart rate is also mentioned a lot. I wrote all of them just in case, though. Because this show, man...

(Also, in Survivors, Bobby told Buck he knows all his impulsive actions come from his heart but it is 4am and I don’t wanna transcribe that right now)

Panic

“Well, it wasn’t a heart attack.” “Panic attacks can often present as heart attacks.”

“You had a heart attack. You must have a good boss. She kept you with us until the cavalry arrived.” “My heart’s racing. I can’t breathe. Am I having a heart attack too?” “Not necessarily. Could be a panic attack.” “Whoa, guys, we got another one! This is Captain Nash. We’re gonna need a second gurney.”

“Transplant team is ready in OR three.” “That’s great, but we’re not starting without the heart.” “I’m on with the pilot. They’re twelve minutes out.”

“Are you saying you had a heart attack?” “No, I’m not saying I had a heart attack. I’m saying the opposite. I’m saying I didn’t have heart attack.” “But you did think you were having a heart attack” “Can we just drop this?”

Desperate Times

“The place where this heart’s coming from, that was a tragedy. But once we land it’s gonna be a miracle, right?”

“Wait! The heart! This is a transplant flight!” (Eddie): “I got it!”

“It was a panic attack. Not a heart attack.”

Desperate Measures

“You’re not gonna pass out or anything, right? Your heart rate is not going up?”

Home and Away

(Claudette taking call) “Home invasion robbery. The homeowner and his grandson managed to hide but it sounds like Grandad’s having a heart attack. Lonnie, the paramedics are real close, I promise, but they can’t enter the house yet. Do you still hear the intruder?” “Yes, yes, I can hear him” “And what about your grandpa? Is he breathing?” “No, no. He’s dying. I think he’s dying.” “You’ve got your earbuds in, right?” “Yes, yes” “I’m gonna talk you through doing compressions” “No, no, I can’t. They’re gonna hear.” “Five-Adam-19, suspect in the front study, hard right as you enter the house.” “Lonnie, the police are coming in. It’s gonna be loud.” “I can hear them coming” “Don’t be scared by the noise, okay?” “Are you still pushing?” “Good” “Five-Adam-19, you need to go now” “Copy, 19, sending rescue in” “133, suspect’s in custody” “You’re clear to enter” “Paramedics tell me your grandpa’s heartbeat is back. You did real good.”

“Claudette’s a big personality. But she’s got an even bigger heart.”

Peer Pressure

“Probie, if you’re gonna vomit, do it somewhere else” “His heart rate’s elevated. Blade must have nicked his carotid, but at least it’s giving us just enough pressure to prevent him from bleeding out immediately.” “Okay, Buck, I got the weight. You got the disassemble when you’re done there.”

Brawl in Cell Block 9-1-1

“My son...he’s here in the ICU. Congenital heart failure. Kid’s been waiting almost a year for a new heart.” “So you’re here to force his way up the list at gunpoint.” “No. I’m here to give him mine.”

“Legally, it’s complicated. But he wants the state to kill him so he can donate his heart.”

“He wants to donate his heart to his kid.” “Buck, that’s not on the table.” “State of California doesn’t allow death row inmates to donate their organs.” “Come on, that’s just a technicality.” “It’s a law, Buck.” “Prisoners have made petitions” “and every request to become an organ donor has been denied” “There’s gotta be something else we can do”

“You think this is what he wants? To get your heart and live the rest of his life knowing how much blood you shed so he could have it?” “What do you want me to do? Go back to prison? Sit there rotting in my cell while my kid dies?” “I want you to shut up. And let me help you.”

“Go grab a crash cart and help me keep his heart pumping.” “What happened?” “He shot himself. Bullet through his brain.” “Eddie, he’s dead.” “But his heart isn’t. And I need it to stay that way.”

“That boy is going to die without that heart. And the father...or whatever you wanna call him...has made himself the donor. Let’s just let them do the surgery. Figure the rest out later.” “This is way above our pay grade. We don’t make the laws. Just enforce them.” “The governor is never going to pardon him for a triple homicide. Even posthumously.” “What would he say to a commutation?”

Ghost Stories [Halloween]

none

Defend in Place

“ICU is now full.” “But I’ve got a heart patient that needs immediate attention.” “Your nearest hospital is going to be Mont Grove.”

Past is Prologue

“I knew it was wrong but...when Clive talked about the future we could have together. I saw it. And I wanted it with my whole heart. But the day I was supposed to meet him I...Stood him up.”

Wrapped In Red

none

Outside Looking In

none

Boston

“Heart rate is rapid and irregular. Legs and ankles also appear to be swollen.” “Could be possible right-sided heart failure. Does your friend have a history of heart trouble?”

“Let’s immobilize his hand and elevate it above his heart. Don’t want it to swell more than it is.” “The venom’s making my heart swell. I’m gonna die.” “No, I meant your hand. And statistically speaking, people don’t die from snake bites.”

“Maddie?” “Howie.” “We have acute alcohol intoxication. Heart rate severely low. BP 80/60 and she’s cold to the touch. Let’s start suction and get her on a gurney.”

Fear-o-Phobia

(Jonah with spider guy) “Pressure’s bottoming out. Might be a reaction to the steroids.” “Wouldn’t that increase the pressure?” “Yes. Unless he was on some sort of prescription meds. Clear!” “Heart rhythm returning to normal.” “You sure he’s okay?” “Yeah. Just gave us a scare.”

“Phobophobia. The fear of being afraid. The terror that comes from imagining the pounding of your heart, the racing of your pulse, and the ensuing loss of control.”

Dumb Luck

(Heart drawings) “That one’s mine. I misunderstood the assignment.”

“Okay, Jules. Your pulse and this entry wound are telling me [the stop sign] has not damaged your heart. You’re very lucky.”

FOMO

“Your heartbeat is muffled, which could be cause for concern.”

“Heart on the right, spleen on the right.” “All his organs, including his heart are on the wrong side of his body. That’s not in his questionnaire? That’s a huge thing to leave out.”

“He’s bleeding into the sack around his heart. It’s filling up and it’s keeping his heart from beating fully.”

“I need to drain the blood.” “Wait, from his heart? What if you’re wrong about the dextrocardia?” “I’ll collapse his lung. But I thought I’d try not to do that.” “I can hear his heartbeat clearer now. He’s returning to normal sinus rhythm.”

(the mother) “Heart rate’s way up. Blood pressure’s really low.” “Can’t really feel much.” “Could be the adrenaline. Likely a pelvic fracture. Abdomen is warm to the touch, belly’s full of blood.” “Need...my kids.” “They’re waiting for you up at the surface.” “I’m not gonna make it back to them, am I?” “It’s hard for us to know how severe it is from down here.”

“Look, I know your heart’s in the right place. Or...I guess yours isn’t, but due to your undisclosed medical condition, you won’t be able to participate in the show.” “But what about Alyssa? I know she really wanted to get married.” “She still does.”

May Day

[Claudette died of cardiac arrest]

Hero Complex

Jonah killed every body by giving them heart attacks so that’s most of it.

#like i said most of these can mean something and many of them are just heartrate but some of the heartrate ones could also mean something #911 fox #911 spoilers #eddie diaz

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oolongmilkt · 3 years

Text

pairing: virginkiller!matsukawa x fem!reader

cw: corruption kink, slight degradation, loss of virginity, a little toxic maybe, slight choking, a fingering, vaginal penetration, sexy horse cock issei

a/n: hope you enjoy and reblog for a kiss <3

You’re such a sweet thing, aren’t you? That what Matsukawa thinks when he sees you at the bar of some shady club. It’s so painfully obvious that it’s your first time here. You keep squirming in your seat, fidgeting with your outfit that’s just a bit too short and tight for your comfort. But he loves it. The fabric clings to your figure and the scarce amount of fabric lets him see peeks of your soft flesh.

You nurse a glass of liquid courage while periodically looking down at your phone or quickly glancing around the club. Your eyes meet his for just a second before falling back down to the small screen.

Ah, he thinks, he knows for sure now. You’re a virgin. A cute little innocent thing who got too tired of her friends making fun of her for never bringing someone home after a night out. Too tired of her fingers and silicone toys never giving the warmth and stretch she needed.

Well then, you’re just his type. Matsukawa loves innocent little virgins like you. Likes to lure them in with his laid back attitude and dashing looks. Make them feel comfortable before inviting them back to his apartment to ruin you for anyone else. Carve your pussy into the shape of his cock so no one and nothing can compare. Reach the parts deep inside to kiss your cervix with every snap of his hips so you feel him in your throat.

So he approaches you. A tall man with dark hair and good looks? Just what you wanted for tonight. And he starts chatting you up. Making you laugh with jokes and pulling you in further with his charm. He leans to your ear to speak above the music.

“Come back to my place, yeah?”

You kiss fervently as the two of you stumble through the door of his apartment. Nothing too special, just a one bedroom place that’s not messy, but lived in. Thoughts race through your head as things move faster than you can comprehend.

Oh god, you think, am I really doing this? With some random guy from a cheap club?

“Wait,” you say, landing on the plush of his bed, “I— I’m a virgin.”

There. That’s the moment he loves. When the moment becomes too much and forces them to shyly admit their inexperience.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he says, “we’ll go as slow as you like, and I’ll be gentle. Just wanna make you feel good, I promise.” And there’s that little speech he gives every time. The sentences slipping past his mouth seems to instantly calm girls like you. It always amazes him what a few silly words can do to someone. Of course he’ll be gentle; so much so that you’ll be begging for him to just fuck you already, just go faster, harder, just as he planned.

You nod, giving consent to resume your actions once again but at a much slower, more relaxed pace.

“Can I take these off?” he says, tugging at your skimpy outfit.

You gently nod again in response.

“No,” he counters, slightly shocking you, “I wanna hear you tonight. Use your words and tell me.”

“Y-yeah,” you say, barely audible “you can take them off.”

He tilts your head up to place a chaste kiss against your lips before continuing to disrobe you, slipping the garments off to reveal more of your skin to his hungry eyes.

You look so innocent and pure as you begin to shyly cover yourself from his heavy gaze. God this is just what he likes. Knowing he’s the first one to see every unmarked part of your body, so free of any trace of sin. He’s ready to take that away. Ravage your body so it never feels the same again. Force you to come running back to him because you can’t recreate the moment and feelings you had with him.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging your arms away from your body, “don’t hide from me, wanna see how pretty you look, yeah?”

He upclips your bra, sliding the straps down your arms before gently laying you down on the plush of his pillows. His lips latch on to one of your breasts while a hand slides up to massage the other.

Your first taste of sin feels so different from the nights of laying alone in bed, twisting and pulling on your nipples to tease yourself. Matsukawa’s tongue lavishes the peaks of your breasts. Moaning softly as he closes his mouth around the hardened bud, sending shocks of pleasure between your legs.

You squirm against him, “M-more, please.” Bucking your hips up to hint at where you need him. He mumbles a quick mhm against your tit before moving the hand groping your breast to the front of your panties, beginning to rub circles through the fabric.

The light pressure sends electricity up your system. It’s seems like too much yet not enough as foreign hands work against you. All you want is for the sweet bliss of your orgasm to wash over you while Matsukawa seems content on keeping his pace and building up your pleasure slowly.

“Need more.” you say breathily.

“Hmm? More?” he questions, “But you’re getting so wet from just this, sweetheart. Feel ya soakin’ through your panties already. Want me t’be gentle for your first time, right?”

You feel a tinge of regret waft into your head, a small point forming on your lips as you look up at him. Surely he wouldn’t keep this up for long, right?

Oh but sweetheart, you should’ve known this is always his plan. Issei continues to rub those tantalizingly slow circles through the barrier of your panties. His lips nip the unblemished canvas of your neck, leaving blooming marks in his wake. He thrives off each whine and moan he pulls from your lips, each one sounding needier than the last. Just waiting for you to break and-

“Issei please, need you t’fill me up please. Want your fingers, cock, please! Just need something.”

Aren’t you just so cute? Already begging after just a few featherlight touches to your clit and some kisses against your neck. God, it makes the blood rush straight to his cock the way you give in so easily; as if he drains the innocence out each time the rough pads of his fingers meet your pliant skin.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, babe.” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, “I’ll give you everything you want.” Matsukawa slips off your flimsy panties and begins to tease one think finger against your entrance, spreading your slick messily. You let out a whimper when it pushes past the tight ring.

Oh fuck. Just one of his fingers feels so much thicker than yours, reaching farther into your cunt with ease. The intrusion feels foreign yet welcome as each movement elicits a spark of pleasure up your body. He slips another finger into your pussy, the stretch already causing you to writhe against his sheets. All your senses feel heighten just because someone else is the one urging you to cum. The excitement of not knowing what will happen, that another’s fingers are the ones curling up to brush that spot that makes your stomach twist. His thumb returns to your hardened bud, making you nearly lurch forward at the combined sensations.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says, almost cockily. “You’re already clenchin’ on my fingers, how ya gonna take my cock like this?”

You squeeze down harder on his digits. Fuck— how are you gonna take his cock when your poor pussy already feels stretched? He’s clearly not going disappoint based on his stature.

“Issei please,” you mewl, “want you t’make me cum, want you to fuck me please.”

He chuckles at your desperation; who knew he picked up a little slut disguised as a virgin?

“Yeah? Do it then.” he says picking up his pace, “Cum for me and give you my cock. Want me to ruin you, huh? Be the first one in that pretty pussy. Cum for me fucking—

You cut him off with a high pitched whine, bucking your hips up wildly to meet his movements as you cream around his fingers. You clench your thighs together as overstimulation begins to set in and watch with wide eyes as Matsukawa places his soiled fingers in his mouth. His eyes nearly roll back at the taste as you bury your face in his pillow in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” he says, turning you back to face him with a gentle smile,”You taste good, sweet.”

He leans down to kiss you, your essence still lingering on his tongue and mingling between your lips. Issei pauses to quickly strip himself of his clothing, suddenly feeling too hot for his liking. Your eyes widen and your mouth nearly drops open when he pulls down his underwear.

It didn’t necessarily look different from what you had seen in porn but my god was he well endowed. While you didn’t expect it to be small by any means, you didn’t expect him to be quite so large. It’s just so thick and long with an angry red tip and two prominent veins— one on the right and one tracing the underside, staring back at you. You might as well be split in half before trying to take that.

“You droolin’ a little there, sweetheart?” the man says, breaking you out of your trance, “You look a little scared by my dick.”

“It’s just— how will that fit?” You feel a tinge of panic creep up your throat as possibilities rack through your head.

“Don’t worry,” he responds, turning you over so your ass is in the air, “I’ll make it fit, just be good for me, doll.”

He runs the shaft of his cock against your pussy, teasing your entrance with each pass. Your breathing quickens with fear. Oh god, oh god, oh god, you think.

The dark haired man runs a comforting hand down the curve of your spine. “Ya gotta calm down there,” he says softly, “Don’t wanna hurt you, just relax and feel good for me, okay?”

You mumble out a quick okay in response, relaxing your stiff muscles as much as you can. He murmurs a quiet good girl before pushing the bulbous head of his cock past your entrance. He releases a guttural groan, your cunt already clamping down and sucking him in deeper.

You squeal at the intrusion. His cock is thicker than any of the plastic dildos you have hidden at home and you silently curse your impatience for rushing the prep you received.

“Oh my god!” you shriek out, “Too big, s’too much!”

“Shh,” he shushes your cries, reaching down to rub your abused clit, “I— fuck, I know, you can take it, baby.” You’re already clamping down on him like a vice and he’s barely in you. Your velvet walls feel so tight around him he has grip your hips until his knuckles turn white to keep from slamming his hips into yours. He pushes in deeper, forcing your feet to kick up uncontrollably in response. Matsukawa shudders and pants, your virgin cunt feels nearly indescribable as he carves it into the shape of his cock.

It feels like his cock reaches your throat when he finally bottoms out. You push your face deeper into his pillow and let out a strangled moan. His cock is so fat it leaves nearly no room within your cunt for him to pull out and sheath himself back inside your warmth. He reaches deep enough to kiss your cervix without any trouble at all. Your impatience wins again as you writhe with want. Needing him to move rather than stay stagnant.

“Please.” you manage to gasp out, “Move. Wanna be f-fucked.”

Matsukawa doesn’t hesitate. Pulling your hips to meet the snap of his own. His pace is brutal, the heavy smack of his thighs bruising against yours and fat balls swinging to pap against your clit. Your eyes roll back as you moan endlessly into his pillow, drool slipping out and wetting it. He’s everywhere. Filling your cunt perfectly with that oh-so-delicious stretch and making your head cloud up.

Issei’s head feels foggy. His head lolls back as he ruts against you in search of pleasure. God you’re just so sensitive and tight he can barely think. It’s like your cunt is pulling him in deeper for more and pushing him out because it’s just too much at the same time.

He wraps a hand around your throat, pulling your body up to meet his chest. “See?” he chuckles darkly, “Told ya you could take it, even beggin’ for more.” He leans in closer to your ear. “Tell me, doll, who’s makin’ you feel so good, huh? Who’s the first one inside this little cunt.”

“You!” you yell out, “Oh fuck Issei— it’s you.”

“That’s right.” he growls out, snaking a hand down to your clit once agan, “Now, cum on my cock.”

Your clit is already so sensitive from his past ministration and the head of his cock prods against that spot inside with every thrust. You cream around his cock with almost inhuman noises and incoherent sentences spewing from your lips. Your vision gets spotty as Matsukawa continues to fuck into your messy cunt, chasing his own high.

He cums thick ropes into your pussy, filling it up even more than with just his cock before collapsing beside you, just barely missing your frame. You lay together as a panting mess on his mattress. You’re a cute one, Matsukawa thinks. Maybe you’re not a virgin anymore, but he might keep you around to see how much more you break.

#matsukawa issei #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa x y/n #matsukawa fic #matsukawa x you #matsukawa drabble #matsukawa smut

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linkspooky · 3 years

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Eren Jaeger’s Final Words

So there are many people unimpressed with the final statement given by Eren’s character, either finding it inconsistent with the build up to this point, or too ambiguous a motivation for trampling all over the world. I’m not really here to talk about the quality of the story, whether it was good or bad, because I don’t really care. However, I think it’s fascinating what the text is trying to say about Eren’s character and his motivation.

This is why, “I don’t know, shrug” is both an answer and not an answer to why Eren did what he did in the end. For making my point in this analysis, I’ll be talking about Eren’s character from Marley on showing both the Eren that appeared before Reiner, the one that talked to Zeke, and finally the one Armin saw are all the same person.

1. And Now for Something Completely Different

Before I even begin though, let’s talk about something entirely different. My favorite episode of Doctor Who is from the 4th Doctor Era, entitled “Genesis of the Daleks” first broadcast around 1975. What makes this episode my favorite episode is both the premise, and the question it asks. If you haven’t watched Doctor Who the basic premise is the main character is a time traveler who can go everywhere and everywhen in the universe. One of his common enemies is the Daleks, a race whose goal is to kill everything else in the universe. The Time Lords order the Doctor to go back in time to the era the daleks were created, and prevent their creation in order to prevent every person they would eventually kill.

He goes do the Dalek homeworld, and meets the scientist who created them Davros. Eventually, the doctor fails enough that he’s not able to prevent their creation, but he could, wipe them out when they were just newly born children and completely innocent. The doctor decides not to kill them right then because that would be a pre-emptive genocide, and the Doctor is a pacifist. When Davros witnesses him making this choice it prompts this conversation one of my favorite in all of television. The link to the clip is here if you’re interested. [Source.]

Davros: "Now, future errors will be come victories. You have changed the future of the universe, Doctor." Doctor: "I have betrayed the future. Davros, for the last time, consider what you're doing. Stop the development of the Daleks." Davros: "Impossible. It is beyond my control. The workshops are already fully automated to produce the Dalek machines." Doctor: "It's not the machines, it's the minds of the creatures inside them. Minds that you created. They are totally evil." Davros: "Evil? No. No, I will not accept that. They are conditioned simply to survive. They can survive by becoming the dominant species. When all other life forms are suppressed, when the Daleks are the supreme rules of the universe, then you will have peace. Wars will end. They are the power not of evil, but of good." Doctor:"Davros, if you had created a virus in your laboratory, something contagious and infectious that killed on contact, a virus that would destroy all other forms of life, would you allow its use?" Davros: "It is an interesting conjecture." Doctor: "Would you do it?" Davros: "The only living thing, a microscopic organism reigning supreme... A fascinating idea. Doctor: "But, would you do it?" Davros: "Yes... yes..." [ Davros raises a hand as if holding the metaphorical capsule.]

Davros: "To hold in my hand a capsule that contains such power, to know that life and death on such a scale was my choice. To know that the tiny pressure of my thumb, enough to break the glass, would end everything... Yes, I would do it! That power would set me above the gods!

Davros’ motivations seem at first brush look one-note and evil, just another mad scientist playing god. However, what makes the conversation great is the context it takes place in. Here is the choice offered to the doctor, kill a race that he knows will go on to make war and kill innocents in the future in their infancy before they have done anything wrong, or don’t kill them and ensure the future you know will happen.

The Doctor isn’t saying that his choice is the right one. He’s not saying he’s doing good by choosing not to slaughter an innocent race. He’s saying, he can’t bring himself to make that choice. In that situation he chooses not to choose, because it would be against his pacifist believes to choose either way. Which Davros at first, takes to mean the Doctor siding with him. However, when they begin to debate it, notice how they’re not talking about what is the philosophically correct choice to do. The doctor hammers in this point, would you do it? Would you do it? After getting Davros to admit that yes, he would do it, his motivation becomes much clearer, he doesn’t actually care whether his actions result in a good thing or a bad thing, he simply wanted to be the one who got to choose.

What does Davros want? The power that surpasses a normal human being’s ability to choose. Davros himself is basically written to be pure evil, but his desire itself is a little more complex. Davros is a person lacking in agency, if you tear him away from his support system he’ll die within thirty seconds. He designs what he believes is the perfect race capable of conqueringthe universe which are reflections of him. They’re soft little squid creatures in mechanical shells which are inpenetrable. Davros himself cannot seize that power, he is inferior because he’s attached to the life support system (in his own mind), so the power he wants instead is the power to make the choice to unleash them upon the world.

If the Doctor by failing to make that impossible choice in the situation, by not wanting to even hold the capsule in his hands and have that ability to choose remains a man, then Davros chooses to throw away his humanity (which he ties to his inferiority and weakness) and becomes a god instead. To tie my long tangent which just shows how much of a geek I am back to Eren, Eren’s choice wasn’t actually about bringing a good result or a bad one at all. He simply wanted to choose. People who are lacking for agency, who feel powerless and inferior to tend to grasp for it. They try to fix external circumstances instead of internally facing what is within them, because they can’t bear to face it (hence the complex about being inferior in the first place).

People often compare Kaneki from Tokyo Ghoul to Eren because their stated motivation bears some resemblance “we were doing this all to protect our friends”, however, it’s important to grasp that Kaneki and Eren are liars and unreliable narrators both. Their stated motivation isn’t necessarily true. I don’t think the final chapter is as clear as it could have been in nailing down the finer points of this, but Eren does in fact change his stated motivation from “I was doing it all to set up you as heroes of the world” to “I would have done it anyway even if you didn’t come to stop me” to “I don’t know. I just wanted to.” So, the fact that Eren will directly lie about his motivation and try to rationalize his actions and even switch stories in the space of one conversation is at least established.

So to bring the comparison back to Kaneki, both Eren and Kaneki lie about their external motivations that they are doing this for their friends when really they act because of unacknowledged internal motivators. They are secretly selfish, while presenting their actions as some kind of great sacrifice they’re making for the sake of others. The deepest we ever dig into Kaneki’s head he makes this statement.

I’m going to do something that will make everyone love me. Good, bad, it could be anything. After that, I wanna die heroically!

Eren and Kaneki aren’t the same because they’re brave people who fight for their friends, it’s because internally they’re pathetic and unlovable. They’re so starved for agency and attention that they’ll do anything for it, and they just don’t care about the consequences for their actions. Kaneki also, later on in the manga engages in mass slaughter for once again what is a pretty bad reason. It’s not to protect someone or for the sake of someone else. It’s because he’s lonely and wants comfort.

Kaneki doesn’t care about what he’s doing or the consequences of his actions, he’s desperate and wants to do what will immediately gratify him in the moment. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing will unleash mass slaughter and have greater consequences because he’s not thinking about that.

Compare this to the doctor’s choice. The doctor knows the direct result of his actions, if he does not abort the daleks he will fail to prevent the deaths of innocent people. Knowing those consequences he says he still won’t make the choice because he believes his pacifist principles are something he won’t bend on. Kaneki, and Eren both have on principles, or no reasons. They just do whatever in the moment, and make up a reason after the fact. For Touka, For his friends, because he wanted to, because of freedom, because why not?

Kaneki and Eren can construct no good reason for their actions, and no principles behind their actions, because unlike the doctor, they don’t have a developed enough and they’re not capable of making measured choices. They steal away agency because they’ve been deprived of it, they want the feeling of power and control that comes with making the choice, but they don’t want the responsibility for it. The doctor knows if he doesn’t choose to wipe out the Daleks he’s responsible for that choice, but can’t bring himself to kill. His actions are pacifistic. However, Eren and Kaneki choose to kill in the same situation, and their actions inevitably cause the conflict to accelerate. The Doctor remains a man, Kaneki and Eren do not.

What kind of person would want to become a god anyway?

A person pathetically, incapable of feeling alright as a human being.

That’s why Kaneki and Eren make the choice to become monsters, because they’re incapable of living with themselves, or their actions as people. Either way they can’t live with it, hence why, Kaneki’s stated motivation is I’ll make everyone love me and then I’ll just die. Hence why the person who is making this statment is a childish version of him.

There is no good reason for what Eren does. That sounds like a cop-out answer after making you read all this long, but what is a good reason for killing people? This is a lot of rambling but I hope I’ve at least established that Eren’s internal reasonings make no sense, his internal mechanisms at least do. The reason he doesn’t come up with a reason is because he didn’t actually care about the result of his actions, he just wanted to be in the position to choose. He wanted absolute agency because he was denied agency like a child, and as a forever stunted child, he never grew up to realize that most people in the whole world eventually make compromises and live on with sadness instead of getting to do whatever they want.

Words that Eren was told again and again but failed to listen to. He’s not the only person that suffers in the world. He’s not the only person that’s lost people. He’s not the all-suffering protagonist of reality, he’s just one personin the greater scheme of things. However, the ability to compromise like that. To realize that other people exist besides you, that they have feelings separate from yours, that you are not the protagonist of reality is what an adult does, and what Eren can’t do. It’s easier to become god apparently, throw his whole life away as a child soldier making the ultimate sacrifice then just try growing up.

What’s the point of writing a character with such a pathetic motivvation? It’s because it’s human.

To badly misquote Jung, most people assume they are nice people when really they are in fact jerks. The reasons can be very complex, but sometimes it’s just as simple as not being able to look past your own ego and understand people feel differently than you do. Eren cannot accept other people, whether they be his friends, the comrades he’s fought with this entire time, the adults trying to guide him, he is just so incapable of accepting them that he regresses into a child making selfish demands of the world. It seems inhuman but imagine Eren in a completely different setting. What if Eren were just a shut-in? Just a teenager who didn’t leave his room. A fundamental ability to accept other people would sabotage all his other attempts to grow up and leave his room, and he’d choose to remain a child forever. The stakes are different, the situation is different, but the internal mechanisms are unmistakably human.

2. All Erens is the Same

Okay, here’s where I actually try to prove that Eren’s character arc is consistent with the story. What was revealed in 139 at all wasn’t a 180, and wasn’t a reveal that secretly Eren had good intentions all along. He never had good motivations, or selfless one. From beginning to end he was a selfish child, and his reasoning was always that of a stunted individual unable to understand the feelings of others but placing his own feelings as far more important.

What Eren does in 139 is rationalizing and changing his answer, which he has done several times before that point anyway, and is therefore consistent with his behavior up until that point. It’s important to acknowledge that Eren models himself, not after Grisha, but rather Eren Kruger. The foil to Grisha and the reaction to Grisha’s bad parenting is Zeke. The person who Eren makes similiar choices to is Kruger says the reason he picked Grisha is the eyes he possessed in childhood.

The thing about Kruger is, textually, Kruger fucking sucks. He says it himself. He claims he was doing it for the sake of helping others, and yet, all he ever felt like he was doing, was torturing people, and throwing them to the dogs. He kept saying he had good motivations, but his actions were repeated brutal violence, over and over again. He contributed more to the conflict than he helped to resolve it.

At the end of his life, Kruger says once again he doesn’t believe what he’s done has changed anything, and doesn’t believe he himself hs changed. He’s still the child with hatred in his eyes. His reason for passing it onto Grisha is because he knew Grisha wouldn’t grow up either, and would keep that inside of him. Kruger failed to grow, Grisha failed to grow, in a way that mattered, in time to make an actual change. They only ever made things worse, and that is, the model we are supposed to parallel Eren to.

Now this is at the same time that the Attack Titan’s future vision powers are shown to us. The question a lot of people are asking is if Eren had free will in his choice, or he was fated to make that choce all along. The answer is. No. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not at all. The fact that Eren was destined to do it, is yet another excuse, the like seventh change of motivation that Eren gives us. “I saw it happen in the future so I did everything I could to make it happen, but I didn’t think I had a choice this was the only way to make you guys hero,” Eren says, and then five seconds later. “I didn’t know what would happen , I probably would have done it anyway even if I knew you guys were all going to die and fail to stop me.”

Eren is once again making excuses, and avoiding all kinds of responsibility. If he is the chosen one, if his actions are controlled by fate, if he’s a god, if he’s a devil, he is not human and therefore he is not responsible. Eren wants the power to decide the fate for the world, but will do anything but accept responsibility for that choice. Eren wants to be Eren the bloody conqueror, but he’s not even self-aware enough to see himself as a bad person he can’t even own that so when confronted on his actions he reduces himself back to a child, and evades responsibility. Eren’s own motivation, his stated motivation is for no reason, however, the reasons he avoids the guilt like this are complex in their mechanisms as I wrote about above. The simple question is if Eren saw this future why did he not try to stop it? The simple answer is because he did not want to.

There are a million and one excuses Eren has for why he thought the future could be avoided, but his actions tell a different story. He didn’t lift a finger to try. He spent the next four years making rationalizations for what he eventually would do. I will now establish, Eren was actually given several oppurtunities to stop, and then he just did not stop.

In the Reiner and Eren scene while Tybur is speaking in the background, Eren is offered a choice. Quite literally, Tybur is narrating the same story that Eren wants to set up. Become the devil that tried to destroy the world, so the heroes (his friends) will defeat him. He’s given the chance to be genuine and talk things out with Reiner and what does he choose.

He chooses to accelerate. He could have stopped. Remember how Reiner was practically begging him to talk things out? Not only that but Eren sees that Reiner’s stated motivations for doing what he did were, completely fake, just rationalizations made up in the moment.

Eren is presented with the reality of who he really is, a child who hates himself, who wants to kill himself rather than take responsibility for his actions, and he chooses the narrative Tybur offers him. Rather than be hismelf, stop the story here, he chooses to move the story forward.And the conflict accelerates when they could have reconciled. Not because there was no other choice, Reiner was begging, crying, and holding Eren’s hand at the same time asking for peace and forgiveness but because Eren chose to accelerate the conflict.

Eren’s choices are always that of an accelerationist. When given the oppurtunity to stop, he chooses instead, to always make the conflict worse. That is, the result of Eren’s myriad of choices made throughout the arc. Everything is worse now, and more people are dead. Nothing good is achieved through these means because Eren wasn’t trying for good. Eren didn’t care about good results, he just wanted to be doing something. Easier to be an all powerful demon, than a powerless child which is what he sees Reiner as in the moment.

The only time I believe that Eren was putting on an act was when speaking with Mikasa and Armin. The rest of it wasn’t acts, it was just who Eren is, who he sees himself to be. The thing is most people don’t read Eren’s kind of behavior, constant masculine posturing, war mongering, accelerating the conflict, throwing himself into fighting, as childish and toxic when it is. The point of Eren’s masculinity is it’s a performance. Reiner crying and begging in front of Eren is embarrassing and pathetic yes, but it’s also how he felt in that moment, it’s a human vulnerability. Whereas, Eren’s outer persona is entirely empty of love and vulernability, of every emotion besides anger, and violence. However, because it’s empty, he just acts, empty... Great wording there I know. Eren when posturing in front of others basically has no personality. He is just guy who fights.

Eren performs the role of a ruthless soldier in front of others, because it prevents him from being vulnerable. Remember who Eren is posturing in front of, Reiner, and then later Zeke. What were they doing? They were both at the moment trying to appeal to his human side, Reiner by crying and begging for forgiveness a show of vulnerability, and Zeke by tryig to show Eren what their father did to them was wrong.

Calls for violence, posturing, warmongering and rhetoric, Eren’s every response when Zeke tries to examine his humanity. Eren insists over and over again, you see I’m not actually a human being. It was impossible for father to reach me because I was simply born that way. However, the kind of person Eren pretends to be is empty, someone incapable of feeling anything. The only way he knows how to be strong, is to simply not have feelings, to deny all human emotion and become something else and that’s just lame. We also know, that Eren himself is not like that because he contradicts his stated motivation that the only reason he killed those slavers was for the concept of freedom itself when he takes too long trying to look at Mikasa.

Eren denies himself empathy, he denies himself udnerstanding, and therefore no one will ever see his emotional wounds. That way, he can be invulenerable forever, but at the same time he denies MIkasa and Armin.

We return again to the motif of the story. It’s the same repeated image, someone tells Eren to stop, Eren says that it must not stop, the story must continue.

Both of Eren’s foils and family members,Zeke and Grisha tell Eren to stop this. That they do not want this. The whole world yells at Eren to stop, and he does not stop. Stopping would mean, accepting some measure of helplessness so Eren does not stop.

To be honest, what Eren says in 131 is far more telling than literally any of the excuses he came up with in 139 which is why I think it should be interpreted not as the final word on Eren’s character but rather, showing what his waffling actually looks like to an outside observer - not heroic at all but rather pathetic.

Eren’s childish desire to be this powerful, to stand up above everyone like a god while ignoring the suffering of the world around him - is pretty telling enough of Eren’s true motivations that he needs no further elaboration. Eren does not become god for the sake of his friends, he does not do it because he thinks it will make the world a better place, he does it because of childish delusions of grandeur and his inability to let go of his childish feelings of entitlement. The world isn’t the way he wants it to be and he can’t comrpomise with that in any way. Eren is more like a caricature of the most petty person on earth when you put it that way, but this is... a fictional story. Thematically Eren is a good example why ideals are ideals, and people are in fact, people, ulitmately very disappointing and falling short of those idealse. So once again moving past this.

Eren, you can literally just stop. Eren is basically given every choice in the world to stop, everyone else in the story tells him to, and he just doesn’t. The author does go to a painstaking extent to show that Eren in fact could have stopped. Every single time he is given the oppurtunity to stop he instead chooses to accelerate the conflict.

It is interesting to show the one time Eren actually did stop though. It wasn’t for Mikasa, it was Mikasa’s decision.

When Eren puts the decision on someone else, he can stop. Eren has feelings for Mikasa, but rather than confessing to her he makes her speak up about what her feelings are, even when everyone around him just, straight up tells him.

Why is he capable of stopping when it’s someone else’s choice? In those cases, Eren succesfully avoids responsibility. When he makes the decision to run away in the possible alternate reality he’s doing what Mikasa wanted.

The other time is when he decides to accept the result of whatever Mikasa decides. In both cases, Eren rather than accept responsibility for his actions and the results of his actions, just, puts it all on Mikasa.

Is he doing this for Mikasa’s sake? To set Mikasa up as the hero of the world? No, he can’t even face Mikasa and explain himself or his feelings. Eren makes the choices to... put the ultimate decision on Mikasa, and run away without explaining himself because, that’s easier than taking repsonsibility for his choices. Every choice Eren makes, is to either make the conflict worse, because stirring the pot makes him feel powerful and in control, or throw control away to someonee else or some other reason (predestination whatnot) because he can’t bear the responsibility of what he’s doing. He wants to kill a bunch of people, but like... he doesn’t want to feel like a bad person about it (hence the excuse, he was doing it for his friends and yet later in the same conversation him saying that if he had killed his friends and they failed he still would have done it anyway).

Therein lies the rub. Eren is not doing this for his friends, because he takes the one path that is guaranteed to take him out of their lives. He doesn’t do it for Mikasa because he does the one thing guaranteed to destroy her.

I love this girl so much, that I created this elaborate scenario where the only way she could save the world was to horribly behead me, the one family member left from her childhood after she spent her entire life trying to protect me from fear of losing her family - yeah that sounds completely insane.

It is meant to be. Eren is thinking jack all about what his friends are feeling. His feelings for Mikasa, his desire to keep her safe and away from everything else trump everything even the idea that his love might be returned. He loves at Mikasa. He’s not in love with her, he’s projecting his love upon her. “Why didn’t he just tell her about his feelings if he secretly loved her all this time?” the point was, he couldn’t. Eren’s ego isn’t developed enough to love another person, that requires actually caring about their feelings which Eren doesn’t do to well.

There’s a reason Eren and Mikasa’s connection keeps lingering back to the small kindness they showed each other as childhood,it’s because literally despite spending their entire lives growing up together, their connection hasn’t grown at all since then, because they can’t grown.

At the end of the series however, Mikasa makes the opposite coice of Eren. If Eren’s choice has been to remain a selfish child all this time, to make other people suffer rather than face his own hurt feelings. Mikasa makes the choice of selflessness, to grow up, beyond the child who loved Eren into the adult who knows that even if you love people, one day you might lose them.

Eren’s choices only ever make the conflict worse. Mikasa’s choice finally stopped the conflict that Eren kept accelerating. It didn’t save the world, it saved the world from Eren.

I think it’s important to remember that Eren didn’t see what MIkasa was going to do, that her actions were going to end up breaking the curse. He literally had no idea what was going to happena fter the massacre, all he saw was the massacre and decided to do what he could to bring it about.

“I did all of this for you guy.”

Backtracking, five seconds later, and making excuses it all would have happened anyway.

It’s the same behavior consistently shown throughout. Eren could have stopped. Eren did not stop. Afterwards, Eren wants to reconcile the guilt and believe that his motives were good, when his actions were the actions of a bad person. It’s the same as Reiner’s crying and begging after years of guilt and failure to reconcile his acitons with who he is. Eren can’t understand why he did what he did, he just knows he did it, and he can’t accept responsibility for any of it. So that’s why Eren throws the choice away.

Eren can’t understand his father’s words, because in the end, being born, living his life, growing up, falling in love, making friends, losing some of those friends, growing older, getting weaker, all of those things are things Eren doesn’t want to do. Eren begins his life with “You were born into this world, you’re free to live hwoever you want” and ends his life wishing he was never born, and that’s the utlimate tragedy of his character arc. Not that it was inevitable he would eventually do these things, but beause it wasn’t and Eren chose to do them anyway instead of choosing literally anything else. Therefore, despite claiming Mikasa and Armin as the reason behind all of his actions, they weren’t, because he was inacapable of making the simple choice to be with them and grow up with them which is all they ever wanted from him.

#eren yaeger #eren jaeger #reiner braun #grisha jaeger #zeke jaeger #attack on titan #aot meta #attack on titan meta #aot 139 #aot 139 spoilers #attack on titan spoilers #aot spoilers #snk meta #snk theory

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meltwonu · 3 years

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| 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔦 𝔪𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 | [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x reader

this chapter’s notes; fratboy!wonwoo, fingering, littlest bit of dirty talk, praise!kink, soft soft soft FLUFF hours, a bit of a filler chapter before the last chapter!! 😭 I can’t believe it’s almost ‘over’... This chapter has the least amount of smut yall will ever see with fratboy!wonwoo so don’t get used to it ☠️ LMAO 🤣🤣 also... it’s been a garbage week(boring work drama) for me so I’ll answer inbox msgs and stuff on sunday, I need to get away from the internet(and people) for a day dkfjhskh 😭💕 Ya’ll thank you for so much love and support with Caffeine and Until I Met You! It means so much to me and I appreciate every like, reblog and comment I get on it 🥺💕 No I will never be ending my fratboy!wonwoo au so don’t worry about that hehe 💕 For now, enjoy this soft ch 4 and I will see yall on Sunday! I love you, have a great weekend! 💕

[mood for this chapter: more than enough - alina baraz]

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x

“So…”

Wonwoo sighs - re-shelving another Edgar Allen Poe book. “So, what?”

Mingyu tilts his sunglasses down, eyebrows raised at the older male that continues to do his job instead of give him the time of day. “What’s going on with you, hyung? You’ve been… weird.”

“Okay, define weird.”

The younger male pouts as he takes his sunglasses off, pocketing them as he leans up against the bookshelf that Wonwoo is currently still shelving.

It only takes one utterance of your name for Wonwoo to stop in his tracks - fingertips on the spine of another book as he turns to Mingyu. “What about her? Did she say something to you?”

“No, but do you like her? I mean, ‘like’ like her.”

“Is it not… obvious? That I do? Did we not all collectively have that conversation about me giving her a set of keys to our house?”

Mingyu grimaces slightly as he mentally goes through all the times he’d even seen the two of you together and he’s only able to conjure up a few select memories - none of which were anything necessarily romantic. “Well… I wouldn’t say ‘obvious’, I guess. The two of you aren’t exactly the ‘kiss and hold hands in public’ kind of... people. More like the, ‘sneak off to fuck in a public restroom’ kind... Which, uh, isn’t really... romantic.”

This time, Wonwoo crosses his arms and leans up against the opposite bookshelf as he sighs.

It’d been a few days since he’d seen you and you’d been swamped in so much class work that you didn’t even have the time to come by the library or the frat house. And even while Wonwoo stood in between the bookshelves having a conversation with Mingyu, you were finishing an art project with Minghao that was due by the end of the day.

“I know. I told her it’d be kind of a slow crawl for me.” He plucks another book from the cart, staring at the glossy text as he simmers in his thoughts. “Mingyu, am I awkward?”

“Erm, well, I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

Mingyu steps forward, patting Wonwoo on the shoulder as he smiles.

“You like her and you’re trying even if you’re not used to it. You gotta start somewhere, hyung. Even if you’re a fish out of water. But that’s okay, you can ask me for help if you want!”

“When are you gonna put a ring on Wonwoo-hyung?”

You snort at Minghao’s question - reaching for a clean paintbrush as he stands across from you in the large, empty studio. “First of all, can you not say it like that? I’m not gonna marry him, okay.”

The male rolls his eyes as he steps closer to you; his own hands and clothes covered in a colorful array of paints. “So you’re saying you never imagined hyung in a suit, hair slicked back and his buff arms carrying you off into your honeymoon?”

“W--wh--n--no! No, I haven’t!” You avoid his piercing stare as you focus on your end of the large canvas instead.

No, but I dreamt about it once.

“‘Hao, would you hurry! We’re supposed to be collaborating on this and it looks… like it’s 5 different art styles.”

“Don’t change the subject on me. And anyway, I like what you’re doing to hyung. Breaking him out of his shell, y’know? He’s just shy, that’s all. Needs a little work in the bold department.”

You bite down the urge to laugh because to you, Wonwoo was everything but shy when it came to the bedroom. Although, Minghao was right with everything else. “Yeah, I know. We went for breakfast together after I, um, stayed over a few nights ago and he kinda just sat there zoned out, picking at his waffles. He’s really cute when he wakes up in the morning though. Pouty and whiny.”

Grinning at Minghao, he pretends to gag in response before taking a seat next to you.

“Disgusting. Tell me more.”

Wonwoo makes an effort to check in with you throughout the day before he heads back to his room - asking you if you’d had your meals and if you’d finished your project on time.

You’d answered sporadically as you and Minghao raced to finish.

‘I’ll eat late probably… rly gotta finish or else my ass is failing lol’

‘Just don’t forget, okay? It’s not good for you to skip.’

Wonwoo lays down in his bed; yawning as he sets his phone onto the nightstand next to himself.

His eyelids feel heavy and he’s quick to give in to the tiredness that takes over him once he gets comfortable.

When Wonwoo finally decides to shift during his nap, he finds it difficult and extra warm.

“Mmh…”

His bleary eyes adjust to the, now, slightly darkened room as he makes out your figure tucked underneath his arm. He calls your name softly - waking you up from the nap that you’d apparently joined him in.

“Mmh… Wonwoo…” You snuggle in deeper, voice still laced with sleep. “You didn’t even budge when I came in…”

He chuckles softly as he readjusts to spoon you from behind instead; his strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep your body flush against his own.

“I’m surprised you came by, sweetheart. I would’ve just stayed awake had I known you were coming over.” His voice is groggy and laced with sleep as you sigh softly in return as you blink away the sleepiness.

“How was your day at the library? Miss me yet?” Wonwoo smiles into your shoulder before he tilts his head up to kiss the shell of your ear.

“Always, sweetheart. Although, Mingyu decided to keep me busy today.”

“Oh? Anything fun?”

He plays with the hem of your shirt, “Well… Fun isn’t the word I’d use to describe what that was. Nosy was more like it.”

This time you can’t help but snort in response. “You too? I think some people were being ‘lil moles today.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it. Did you end up just coming back here with Minghao from the studio?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, to be honest but… S’been a rough day.” Placing your hand over his arm, you squeeze slightly as you pull his arm around you tighter. “Our professor came by while we were working in the studio and said our project wasn’t up to par with what Minghao and I usually submit for projects. She didn’t fail us on the spot but she said we need to redo it for less credit or take the failing grade.”

Wonwoo nuzzles your neck; peppering small kisses on your clothed shoulder. “I take it the two of you are going to redo it?”

“Mm… We spent so long coming up with a concept and now we’re both stressed about coming up with something new. I walked over here with ‘Hao and he locked himself up in his room as soon as we got here. Figured I’d come hang out with you and found you napping… With your glasses on, no less.”

The two of you share a laugh; Wonwoo’s embrace making you feel more at ease.

“Can I help you de-stress a little, sweetheart?”

You stare at the opposite wall, nodding gently as Wonwoo’s hand leaves the hem of your shirt in favour of the waistband of your shorts.

“Just want you to feel good,” he whispers. “You deserve it. You’ve been working so hard, baby.”

He teases you softly; fingertips ghosting across your skin as you shiver. “Ah, Wonwoo…”

“You worked extra hard today too, didn’t you? I’m so proud of you for what you accomplished today.”

Your body heats up at his praise and you can’t deny that his deep, soft voice sends thrums of arousal pouring over your body just as he dips his hand into your lounge shorts. He touches you over your panties - fingertips ghosting against your mound as you moan his name shakily in return.

“I know your new idea is going to be great, baby. I believe in you.”

Soft whines threaten to spill as Wonwoo strokes you over your panties - slowly working you up as you find yourself trying to grind against his hand. “Y-yeah… ‘m p-pretty sure ‘Hao’s already working on it…”

Your voice is barely above a whisper as Wonwoo continues to stroke you gently; making no efforts to rush or add pressure to his feather-light touches.

A disappointed noise falls from your lips when he starts to pull his hand out of your shorts but it quickly turns into a content sigh when he starts teasing your chest instead.

“Mm, so soft…” Muttering against your shoulder, his eyes stare off into the dark room as he massages your body. “And all mine~”

You hum in response, “We should go on a date sometime…”

“You want to? We can go this weekend. After you’ve redone some of your project. I’ll take you somewhere nice for a job well done.”

You giggle softly; images of a wedding day’s Wonwoo dancing in your mind after the conversation you’d had with Minghao earlier. “I’d like that. We should do something for the whole day.”

“Whatever you’d like, baby.”

Wonwoo’s hand flits down your body again - snaking into your shorts and, this time, into your panties as you whine. “Do you wanna cum or go back to sleep, hmm?”

You ponder it for a second as the drowsiness equates the urge to cum on his fingers.

“Both? I wanna cum and then sleep a little more... If that’s okay?”

Wonwoo hums in agreement as his fingertips drag through your folds - collecting the wetness on them before he teases your soaked hole. “Only a little teasing gets you this wet, hmm? So cute.”

“Ah, f-feels good when you go slow t-too...”

He stores that away in his head for later; chuckling against your shoulder as he slowly starts to dip his middle finger into your cunt.

You feel warm and content when he starts a slow pace - thumb on your clit rubbing soft, slow circles while he pumps his finger into you.

“O-oh, Wonwoo...”

“You’re always good for me, baby. Always such a good girl.”

“Ah, Wonwoo...”

“You can cum whenever you want. You deserve it.”

He adds his index finger - thrusting both fingers into you as you mewl and arch away from his warm chest. Your toes curl and your thighs clamp and trap his hand between your legs as you start to grind down onto his nimble fingers.

“...W--Wonwoo...”

“That’s right, baby. Call my name, let me hear your pretty voice when your cumming for me.”

You turn your head - cries muffled into his pillow because despite his slower than usual pace, you find yourself already on the brink of cumming with his fingers knuckle deep inside of you and his thumb on your clit.

“Mmh... Ah... Feels s-so warm... and g-good...” You mutter, eyes blinking drowsily. “Gonna c-cum...”

He doesn’t say anything in return as he focuses on you and your pleasure; fingers scissoring and curling right into your g-spot as you clamp down onto them in a vice grip.

Wonwoo knows when you’re about to cum when he feels your hand coming down on his forearm, holding onto him for dear life when your orgasm still hits you just as hard.

“Ngh, Wo---Wonwoo!”

Your walls flutter around his fingers and make it harder for him to thrust them in and out with how tight you get.

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby~”

His deep voice makes you whine - nails digging into his arm and body trembling as the pleasure steadily washes over you.

“Ah, bet your face is so pretty right now too~”

“Mmh, s-stop...” Your cheeks burn in slight embarrassment from his constant praise but you can’t deny the way it goes straight to your core and only prolongs your orgasm.

“Don’t be so shy, baby. It’s only you and me here.”

Wonwoo leans away slightly to kiss the crown of your head - still working you through your orgasm as you sigh contentedly in his arms.

Various thoughts run through his head in the moment, but the one that sits at the forefront of his mind is definitely how to make sure he kept treating you right.

Starting with your date that he would spend time meticulously planning.

‘Ah, I should ask Mingyu for some advice.’

#wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen fluff #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt imagines #wonwoo fic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #uimy_meltwonu

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justreadingfics · 4 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Ch. 14)

Chapter Summary: Hearts are broken.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: angst, “The Mandalorian” reference.

A/N: One more chapter after this and we’re done. Thank you, incredible Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer for having my back. Love you. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

Tag list for this story is closed.

There’s that annoying little chilling feeling running down his spine while Bucky parks his bike on the nearest parking lot to your building and steps towards your place. Not the dreadful feeling he gets on missions when his life or others’ are in danger. No, not that one. Is that feeling he gets when he knows something’s up, something’s out of order, not necessarily bad, but something that he needs to put his focus on…

He’s been trying to hold himself from going to your place, he knows that it may sound like he’s imposing himself in your personal space, in your life, but he’s been trying to call you in the last few hours, sent a few messages but you haven’t answered and then that annoying little feeling came to say hello.

And in his long ass life, he’s learned better than to ignore that feeling. He knows you’re not at work because it’s a Sunday and maybe you just went out somewhere without your phone and he’s just being paranoid or something… But he’ll just check if you’re ok, see those pretty eyes of yours and leave. That’s it. He may seem like a fucking stalker, but if that is going to assure him you’re ok, then so be it.

And God knows how much he would appreciate a glimpse of you right now.

The little hairs on his neck stand in attention at the sight he catches from the corner of your street and brings him to a full stop. That short little asshole of your ex, dragging a big suitcase with one hand and holding a couple of boxes with the other.

Bucky’s heart races and he frowns, watching when that Eddie guy lets go of the suitcase and balances himself to not let the boxes fall while he types the code to open the front door, getting into your building right after, dragging the suitcase with him.

The air catches in Bucky’s throat before it comes out in short little breaths. His mind runs with all the possible scenarios that would explain that scene… he desperately searches for ones that don’t have to mean what his jumping heart is telling him it means.

He’s not thinking clearly through the mess that his mind has become, but he decides he needs to see it for himself, as dreadful as he is of what he’s going to see.

In a few long and quick steps he’s at the building’s door, typing the numbers he’s just registered the douchebag typing and in a second he’s in the elevator up to your floor.

Once he’s at your door, ready to knock on the wood, his hand stops midair, before it drops to his side while he sighs. Deeply. This is madness… he shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t need to see anything, he can wait and talk to you some other time, when he’s less… anguished… anxious… He knows what he’s thinking, but it doesn’t mean that’s the case. You and the guy had lived together for years… maybe he’s just returning some of your stuff… maybe… damn… he brushes his hand over his face, harshly. He should leave.

And he’s about to do exactly that when the door opens.

Bucky has been calling the guy a short little asshole all this time and, while he still may be an absolute jackass and Bucky surely and easily beats him in height, somehow he feels like the smallest person on earth standing in front of the man right now.

“Can I help you?” Eddie asks, hardening his face after an immeasurable moment of stunned silence between the two men.

“Ahm,” Bucky clears his throat and keeps his voice firm, “Can I talk to Y/N?”

Eddie lets out a small puff and God knows how much Bucky needs to hold himself back from punching that stupid little face, “She’s not home, she had a call for something at work,” Eddie answers plainly.

Bucky feels when his jaw tightens painfully and his chest puffs, “Then what the hell are you doing here?” His voice comes out dangerously low as his chin tips up.

A little and annoying smirk twists Eddie’s lips and… fuck, Bucky has a terrible feeling about that. “Not that I need to give you any explanation but I’m moving back. This is my home again.” He regards Bucky for a second after adding, “Our home.”

The words punch the air out of Bucky’s lungs and, looking behind Eddie’s shoulder he sees the numerous boxes… your place… where he had you in his arms so many times now filled with that guy’s stuff next to your things… His stomach churns violently.

“Are you… are you and Y/N...” he can’t even finish the question, the words getting stuck in his throat, choking him like a deadly poison.

“Listen, dude…” Eddie bursts out, “What Y/N and I have isn’t some kind of fling or deal or whatever one small time apart can destroy, we belong together.” He huffs and bites his cheek before continuing impatiently, while all Bucky can do is stare at him, frozen in place, ”I have no time for this. If you have questions you can ask her whenever you want, if she has anything to explain to you, she will. Now if you excuse me.” He gestures towards the elevator.

Bucky would rather die a thousand times before he would allow himself to continue showing a single more minute of vulnerability in front of that guy… so he sucks it all down his throat and, holding himself in the excruciating pain rushing up his chest like it’s an anchor, he puts on a hard face and just nods, stepping away while he meets, for the first time, the ache he knows is the feeling of his heart breaking.

~~~

At the sight before her, Natasha sighs and remembers the time when she would find much different scenarios when she would burst into Bucky’s place. Where she would usually find different underwear tossed around the floor and small parties in his room, now she sees a metal armed dude sprawled on the sofa, face deep into not one, but two huge pints of Stark Raving Hazelnuts from Ben & Jerry’s, while Home Alone plays on the TV, and an Alpine lays comfortably on his lap.

Her little head perks up once Nat’s steps into the room. At least one of them acknowledges her presence.

“Jesus, Bucky...”

He then moves his gaze to her direction, showing off his puffed eyes while shoving a huge spoon of ice-cream in his mouth, “What?” He speaks with a mouthful, “Breakfast?” He makes an offering gesture with the pint.

“I see you at least put on your uniform,” Nat ignores the offer, stepping towards him, kicking aside the many remains and open packages of junk food on her way. She slaps his leg off the sofa so she can sit beside him. As he grumpily adjusts his position to give her room, an equally grumpy Alpine jumps off his lap and aims a gaze of sheer contempt at Nat, before sauntering towards her plate of food in the kitchen.

“Well… Show must go on, right?” Bucky answers while his saddened gaze fixes on the tv again.

Nat just stares at him for a moment, her heart twisting in sorrow at his miserable demeanor, “Listen…” she says, with a softer tone, “I checked, she really is on a mission.” At that, she spots the twitch on his jaw, but he doesn’t look back at her, “Apparently it was some last-minute thing about Thor and earthly technology.” Nat frowns and shrugs, “That’s probably the reason why she’s not picking up your calls or mine for the last couple of days. She’s just busy. You can talk to her when she comes back.”

“Why?” He puts the pints of ice cream aside as his face snaps at her.

Despite the initial harshness on his tone, there’s no trace of anger there on his expression. Just… sadness… and, honestly, Nat would deal better with the anger. She’s never seen Bucky like this… not after he came back from Wakanda.

Bucky breathes in a shuddering breath, like it’s painful for him to even do that before he continues speaking, “The guy is back to her place, Nat… all his fucking boxes and clothes and shit next to hers. They’re back together. That’s it. I honestly don’t wanna listen to her telling me how much that guy matters to her…” His voice cracks, but he goes on talking, “That she and I was fun, I was a good fuck and all but not good enough compared to ten years with that…” He huffs, “That douchebag. I don’t wanna hear her saying he’s the real deal and not me.” He bites on his cheek, looking at Nat with eyes becoming glossy, “I just don’t think I can.”

“Bucky…”

“Ugh, no, seriously Nat, fuck,” he growls while he narrows his eyes and his jaw tightens, “Seriously, that guy… if he only… shit… he doesn’t deserve her.” Indignance pours out of his voice, which comes out through his teeth while his hands clench into fists, “He doesn’t appreciate what he has… ugh…” He groans, and lets himself fall back into the sofa, “But…” He sighs, and nods, licking his lips, “If that’s what she wants… I’m not gonna try and take it away from her. I won’t.” He shrugs.

Like she’s sensing the distress in her human, Alpine materializes on the sofa, between Nat and Bucky, and lets out a meow before curling herself against his thigh. Bucky absentmindedly starts petting her neck, staring up to the ceiling.

Nat could hear the pain of his heart shattering through his words. As for her… regret creeps up inside her. Regret for starting this between Bucky and you. She had a feeling that things could go south, but in all the scenarios she pictured for that, Bucky being the one heartbroken definitely wasn’t one of them. And yet, there he is. Devastated. Completely fucked. In a way she never thought she would see him for… love.

Damn…

“Are you guys ready?”

The three of them turn towards the voice, spotting Steve there, in his full gear and his signature worried and yet soft look that belongs to Bucky.

“Yup,” Bucky taps on his thighs and grabs Alpine in one hand, who meows loudly, and two suitcases, one bigger and one smaller with the other one.

“Are you seriously taking her with us?” Nat checks, following him towards the door.

“Wherever I go, she goes,” he answers, his voice as down as his face.

“Buck,” Steve puts his hand on his friend’s shoulder, stopping him at the door, “Are you sure you’re ok to go on the mission, I can-“

“I’m fine, punk,” Bucky cuts him off, “I’m a grown ass man, I can handle my feelings.”

As Bucky walks past his friend and moves to the elevator, Nat exchanges looks with Steve. She’s heard Bucky saying that exact sentence numerous times lately, after he acknowledged the way he feels for you.

The difference is that the usual confidence is just not there anymore.

~~~

You’re frowning while looking down at him. His words making their way into your senses.

You free one hand of his secured hold to reach over and cup his smiling face.

He leans into your touch.

You make a decision.

Your heart and mind are finally set together in what you now know you want. Hell… you think you know this for a while, but now… with Eddie bringing all those memories and telling you all of that, it did help you get through the split in your heart and mend it back into one. A whole new heart.

One that is all his.

His.

“Eddie,” your voice is soft, while he smiles up at you, “I remember all of that.” You smile, too, referring to the box of memories next you, “Every single memory… everything we shared… those ten years… they helped me mold me into what I am. There’s no me, there’s no what I am today without them,” you state, while, with your thumb, you caress his cheek.

Eddie nods, “There’s no me without you, either, that’s why I’m here.”

“But, Eddie…” you sigh and lick you lips, “Remember how you’ve told me a couple of times I seem different?”

The smile on Eddie's face slowly drops.

“That’s because I am… I’m not just… I’m not just that anymore.” You nod towards the box, “I found out there’s more in me, and honestly, I think there’s more in you, too, that just doesn’t fit to what we used to be anymore.”

He blinks repeated times, staring up at you, and you lean even closer and cup both sides of his face.

“I’m sorry. This is all part of who I am. You’re part of who I am. But I can’t go back.” You shake your head, “I can’t.”

He keeps his stare on you and, after a moment, like he’s been processing what you said to him, he lets out a huff, “Are you serious?” he harshly pulls your hands away from his face and gets up, “Are you fucking serious? Is this because you’re fucking that guy?” He raises his voice, gesturing away.

“Eddie…” You tilt your head as a warning sign.

“No, seriously, you’re trading me, you’re trading us for what?” He spits and points to his chest while his face contorts into something ugly you’ve never seen on him before, “A player who will throw you in the trash for the next nicer piece of ass he sees? For what? A good fuck? An eight pack? A few more inches of dick? Come on…”

“Hey,” you snap, rushing up from your seat to level him, “What the fuck, Eddie?” You curse, as he stares back at you defiantly, “First of all you don’t get to talk to me like that, you lower you goddamn tone.” You point a finger at him, “And, honestly? Bucky is not just “that guy” to me. He’s not a player. You don’t know him, and you don’t know who I am with him, you could never know.”

Through the anger bringing red blurs to your vision, you see when his Adam bone bobs, but he keeps an insolent chin lifted up and he has struck something in you by talking about Bucky and your feelings for him in such a belittling way.

“I didn’t want things to end like that,” you continue, shaking your head, “I really didn’t, but if you’re talking shit you don’t know the first thing about… ugh… fuck that,” you let out a harsh breath, “In one month or so Bucky respected and appreciated me more than you did in ten years. With him I don’t have to pretend I like or don’t like things just not to upset him or whatever, I learned I can be fun and honest… and… and he fucking eats my pussy, for God’s sake,” you burst out in a rush of spite.

Eddie takes a step back, completely stunned by your words and outburst, while a dead silence settles in the room.

“Wow,” he mumbles nodding his head and looking away from you.

You shut your eyes and breathe in deeply, letting your head drop for a moment, while reason starts to come back to your senses, “Shit… shit…” You curse under your breath, looking up at him again, “This is not about that, Eddie…” you say, being honest with him and yourself, “I loved you, I really did, you are so important… I appreciate our time together so much… but now…” You press your lips in a taut line and shrugs, “It’s over…And, yeah… Bucky may be in my life now, but-“

He snorts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. There’s pure scorn in his gaze for you, but you decide to ignore that. Eddie really matters a lot to you and you don’t want to end it in such a bad note. You want closure for the two of you, so both of you can accept what you had is over and move on with your lives.

“But this is not about him. Not completely, at least,” you continue, “It’s us Eddie.” You plead, taking a step closer to him, “Our relationship meant the world, but… but I think we outgrew it-”

“You speak for yourself,” he spits.

You sigh at the anger that is still there, spilling through his voice, but you nod, and speaks softly, “Ok, then… I outgrew our relationship, but even if you think you haven’t, that doesn’t mean it would be good for you to insist on something you realized at some point it wasn’t what you wanted anymore. You can’t deny that.”

You gasp and try to keep your balance when he drops on his knees and latches himself at you, hugging your waist tightly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I caused all this, but please don’t leave me, don’t give up on us,” he begs, his voice breaking, pressing his cheek on you, “Please… please.”

“Eddie… Eddie…” You try catching his attention, as he keeps his chant of remorseful and begging words, “Stop... stop, Eddie, come here.”

You reach down for his forearms, adding some force to pull him up, to which he lets you.

When his weeping face levels yours, you gently wipe the tears falling down with your fingers, “You ended this because you weren’t happy, either, and it’s ok. It’s ok to let go,” you say, gently, before cupping his face and fixing your gaze on his, “Let go, Eddie. Let go.”

He exhales, his eyes shutting. While you keep gentle hands on his face, he brings his forehead to yours.

“We’re gonna be ok,” you whisper, wishing that he would understand that moving on is the best thing for the two of you.

At that, he harshly parts himself from you. Hurt and rejection plastered all over his face while he averts his gaze from you.

“Eddie… I don’t know what else to say,” you heave a sigh.

Before he gives you the comeback he’s about to give you, which you know it wasn’t gonna be a nice one, your phone rings. Nick Fury’s ringtone.

“Shit,” you curse, “I’m sorry, I need to pick that.” You rush and reach out for your phone on the center table, “Yes, Sir… of course… absolutely. I’ll gather my team and will be there in one hour, tops. Alright.”

“It’s work…” you tell Eddie, looking down as you turn off your phone.

“On a fucking Saturday night?” Eddie scoffs, not looking at you.

“Thor is on a solo mission and needs assistance from my team. Fury asked me to lead it. I…” You look at him, but he doesn’t look back at you, “I need to go change,” you say, defeated by his refusal to engage with you or with what you’ve been trying to tell him so far.

Once you come back from your bedroom in a hurry and ready to leave, Eddie is there in the living room, now sitting on the sofa.

“Are you sure?” He asks once you walked over the sofa and met his dull gaze.

“Yes.”

He nods slowly, biting his cheek.

“I’m gonna need to go now, Eddie,” you tentatively say. You step closer to him, but he turns his face to the other side and you take the hint. Stopping on your track.

“What of this place?” He gestures around.

You look around the place you two got together and as from that moment, you don’t see yourself in it anymore. Satisfied with your decision, you walk towards the key hook on the wall and he watches as you come closer to him again and take his hand from his lap, putting the keys in his palm.

“This place is not mine anymore,” you give him a tight smile.

You hold his hand a little longer while his gaze lingers at where you’re touching him.

“Goodbye, Eddie,” you say.

When he doesn’t give you an answer or even spares a look your way, you sigh, deeply. If that’s how he wants it to go, so be it. Letting go of his hand you walk to the door.

As soon as you step aside from your now former home, you realize you’re also walking towards a new phase of your life and you take in a big and refreshing breath before a loose smile forms in your lips. There’s only one thing in your mind, now. Or better, one person.

Bucky.

~~~

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky angst #bucky fluff #marvel fanfiction #it's a deal #it's a deal ch. 14

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

Text

way too hot ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1608

request?: yes!

“heyyy, I love your writing. do you think you could please do a mgk imagine based off of his and yungbluds new song acting like that? thanks <3″

“Heyyy. I love your writing and I was wondering if you could maybe do a Colson Baker x reader based off of the song he and yungblud did, acting like that? I would really appreciate it if you did. Love your account so much btw!!”

description: in which she comes back to her ex way too often, and he finally decides to confront her about it

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing

based on this song

masterlist (one, two)

The sound of loud knocking woke Colson from his deep sleep. He checked the time on his phone to see that it was 4am. Normally, Colson’s insomnia would have him awake at this time anyways, but he had been attempting to fix his sleep schedule now that he had some time off, and he was succeeding for the most part.

The knock came again, causing Colson to groan and throw his warm blanket off himself to venture out into his cold house.

He wasn’t shocked to see his ex-girlfriend stood at his door, nearly stumbling into the house.

“Shit,” she breathed. “I-I didn’t mean...I told the cab driver the wrong house. I’m sorry, Colson, I - ”

Colson could smell the alcohol basically wafting off her, mixed with the sweet, familiar scent of her perfume. He sighed and stepped aside. “Come in.”

As he had numerous times before, he gave her a change of clothes and set up the couch for her to sleep on. He helped her to the couch and gave her water and an Aspirin to help with her inevitable hang over in the morning.

(Y/N) drifted off to sleep within seconds. Colson looked down at her, a million things running through his head to say to her. He decided it would be best to wait until the morning before saying anything, when he was less tired and she was less drunk.

After another moment of just gazing down at his once love, he finally made his way back up to his room.

~~~~~~

When he finally came down the next morning, (Y/N) was still sound asleep. Colson knew he should be annoyed, that he probably shouldn’t have even let her stay there that night. But he wasn’t annoyed, far from it. Part of him was almost happy to see her asleep in his house again.

Although, this wasn’t the first time she had stumbled her way to Colson’s place since they had broken up. Colson had lost count of how many times it had happened, and each time she would swear it was the last only to show up again about a week later.

Colson and (Y/N) had agreed to break up nearly six months ago when they found their relationship was starting to struggle due to Colson’s busy schedule. Colson had been trying to move on when she showed up on his doorstep first, so drunk she could barley speak and tears running down her face. Colson had brought her in and allowed her to stay the night, both of them sure it was going to be a one time thing.

He still loved her, he couldn’t deny that, but her constant drunk visits followed by her insistence that it was the last time felt like he was being stabbed in the heart repeatedly. He either wanted to make things work between them again, or to move on from the relationship.

Colson sighed and approached the couch. He gently touched (Y/N)’s leg, and when she didn’t stir he shook her a little. Her eyes slowly began to open, but she winced from the harsh sunlight beaming in from the living room window and groaned.

“Sorry,” Colson said. “Forgot they were open.”

“Colson?” (Y/N) mumbled, her hands covering her eyes as Colson moved to shut the blinds. “Shit, I did it again, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Colson confirmed. “Take the Aspirin I left you, it’ll help with the headache.”

(Y/N) moved slowly as she sat up and reached for the Aspirin. She moved too suddenly once and hissed in pain, which caused Colson to wince himself. He went to the kitchen as to not have to watch her agony much longer. He threw some leftovers into the microwave, enough for the two of them to share, and brought a plate of food to the kitchen for (Y/N).

“You don’t have to do that,” she told him, although she took the plate anyways. “I probably shouldn’t be here long, anyways.”

“You’re still nursing a hangover, no way I’m letting you go anywhere any time soon,” he decided.

Silence fell over the two of them as (Y/N) took a mouthful of her food. Colson snuck a quick glance at her when he was sure she wasn’t looking. Even just awake with a hangover, she looked like the most beautiful girl in the world.

He could feel his heart racing with delight at just having her there, and he realized he couldn’t let things go much further without addressing the elephant in the room.

“Why do you keep doing this, (Y/N)?”

She looked up at him, a fork full of food paused midair towards her lips. She placed it back down on her plate, averting her eyes from Colson. “I...I’m sorry. I’ll stop, it’s just - ”

“I don’t necessarily want you to stop,” Colson cut her off, although that wasn’t really the truth. “I just...I want to know why you keep getting drunk and coming here in the middle of the night. I wanna know why you do that and then you leave immediately and say you want to pretend like nothing ever happened, only to do it all again. I don’t mind helping you sometimes, but fuck (Y/N), you do make it hard to try and move on from our breakup.”

Tears were starting to form in (Y/N)’s eyes. She looked away from Colson in an effort to hide them, but he could see her lip quivering and could see the trail of water running down her cheek.

“Because...I have a hard time letting you go, too,” she responded, her voice soft.

“What?” Colson asked, although he had heard her.

“I have a hard time letting you go, Colson!” she repeated, much louder this time. “I understand that our relationship wasn’t great, but I wanted nothing more than to try and fight for it; for us. I wanted to be the perfect girlfriend who sat by and waited for her rockstar boyfriend to come home so she could shower him with the love and support he deserved, and I wanted to be cool with the constant partying even when you were home, or the guys always being over and never giving us alone time. I tried so hard to be that way. I...I had hoped you weren’t noticing the relationship going south, too. I hoped I could just fake things being okay until they were again.”

He ached to reach out and take hold of her hand. He hated to see her cry and wanted to hold her and comfort her, but he knew that was inappropriate to do in that moment. So, he just sat, watching the girl of his dreams cry over her love for him.

“Why didn’t you say that when we decided to break up?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I figured it was for the best. I felt that we weren’t how we used to be, you were unhappy. I thought we’d both be better off if we broke up.”

“I wasn’t unhappy.”

She looked up at him. “What? Yes you were, you said - ”

“I said I was unhappy that I couldn’t be with you how you deserved. I wasn’t unhappy with the relationship as a whole, I was unhappy with how I was holding up my end of the relationship.”

(Y/N) was shocked into silence. All these months she had believed that Colson was unhappy in their relationship. She had convinced herself that it was her own doing, that she hadn’t been good enough to keep up with his lifestyle. He had never told her he was unhappy with himself.

“You never told me that,” she pointed out.

“I guess neither one of us was really good with communication then.”

(Y/N) smiled a little at this. She had placed her food aside, no longer feeling able to eat. Colson reached for the plate and was about to make his way back to the kitchen when (Y/N) stopped him.

“Do you think there’s any way we could start again?”

Colson paused in the living room doorway before turning back to look at her. “You mean...from the beginning?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “Maybe...I don’t know. At least start from back before your career blew up and we were both trying to navigate these new waters we were unfamiliar with.”

The corner of Colson’s lips tugged up in a slight smile, his heart fluttering with excitement. “I definitely think we could try. As long as we both promise to be open with one another. No more of this thinking we know what’s best for the other. We lay everything out on the table and we talk through our problems.”

(Y/N)’s smile mirrored his own as she nodded. “Yeah, I like that plan.”

Colson nodded as well. He didn’t want to walk away now, he just wanted to go back and join (Y/N) on the couch. He wanted to smoother her in kisses and cuddle her until her hungover headache went away. He wanted to have his girl back in his arms again.

“I’m glad we decided this,” he finally said. “While I love how adorable you act when you’re drunk, you’re truly way too hot to be acting like that.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh yeah? Acting like what?”

“Like a crazy drunk ex.”

He began to laugh and ducked out of the room just in time to miss a pillow (Y/N) threw at him in retaliation for his words.

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #estxx #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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clouds-rambles · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I ask a Oneshot about venti x reader. You can make it either venti or reader drunk and the drunk one being really flirty, kind of revealing their hidden feelings about their friend, and then kissing the other before clinging and passing out. The drunk one waking up the next they without remembering while the other one is a bit confused about what to do. It would be like friends to lovers, I think. Thank you!

Venti is someone that’s very upfront about his feelings, even if it can be read as friendly hugs and flirty banter so we getting you, the reader, drunk tonight

Me and Venti have very similar personalities which is iconic of me I think

Pairings; Venti x reader

Warning(s); alcohol, drunkness antics

Keep reading under the cut!

Four ciders down and already wobbling about the Angels Share is a little humiliating, especially when Venti continues to tease you about it. Somehow the bard is less drunk than you while also being two drinks ahead of you.

But another cider later the worry of being too drunk washes over you and now you’re sat on your closest friends lap drink both out of his glass, your own, and Kaeya’s as he sits amused across from you. Good thing you trust both these men to not spike their own drinks to spike you.

You turn to Venti and squish his cheeks, you laugh at the face he’s pulling. Not like its necessarily funny, but your drunk brain just finds it hilarious. So much so that you let go of his cheeks and squeeze them repeatedly for a few minutes. Venti joins you in your laughter as you mesmerise yourself with his face. When you have his cheeks squished you give him a kiss and just say ‘mwah’ afterwards before going into another fit of giggles.

You don’t notice the much more sober Venti’s cheeks go red and Kaeya’s chuckle at the scene that had just unfolded.

“[name]?” you hear Venti ask as you drink from someone's glass, you look up to the bard “Another round?” he asks with a grin. You nod, jump off Venti’s lap and stalk to the bar where you order another drink for yourself and Venti. Venti is just behind you with your purse in his hand.

“Who’s paying?” Diluc asks handing over the drink, you point to Venti

“Me but he’s got my moras” you tell the red-head with a grin, you beckon Diluc over to you and whisper loudly in his ear “He’s very pretty isn’t he?” you ask him. The man looks at you with a cocked brow and as much amusement in his expression as he’ll allow himself to muster

“Aww [name] thinks I’m pretty~” Venti teases handing Diluc the money with a drink. You hum in agreement drinking from your glass

“Hehe~ and more~” you tease back with a wink before half racing Venti back to his seat where you sit. Venti follows with a giggle

“And more?” he pushes, you pat the mans cheek as he sits beside you and shush him

“Sober me will hate me if I tell you” you inform him matter of factly, Venti laughs at you again and wonders if he could push again a few more drinks along the line.

Yet before he has time to ask the question once more, your head is now on his lap. Your hands trying to reach up and take Venti’s hat, yet just falling short each time. Venti seems to have cottoned on to your attempts at grabbing his hat and decides to tease you by dipping his head when you retract your hands then lifting it back up when your hands come too close

“You’re mean” you tell him with a pout “Just gimme your hat” Venti giggles and shakes his head before dipping his head once more so you can reach his hat. You sit it on your head with a grin. “Hell yeah!” you exclaim hugging the bard around his waist “You’re the best”

You cause trouble about the tavern for a few more hours before Venti decides to drag you home, he’s much more drunk now. You haven’t had a drink in the last half hour, but Venti has more than made up for it in that department.

You fall onto the sofa in your home and grin.

“You’re cool Venti” you tell him

“Am I?” he asks looking at you, you nod at him and beckon him to come over

“You’re so cool that I wanna kiss you” you confess and grin when you see Venti’s face break out in a grin

“Do it then” he challenges leaning over you, you grab the bards cheeks and give him another kiss with a grin

The next morning you wake up on the couch, you notice the blanket on your body and you hear the gentle snores of Venti who is lying on the floor by the couch. You notice your connected hands and a wave of embarrassment washes over you as you remember your constant closeness to Venti through the night and the kiss before you passed out.

Oh man if Venti doesn’t like the fact you kissed last night you’ll never be able to look at him in the eyes again.

“What time is it?” Venti asks slurring his words as he sits up, Venti looks to your connecting hands “Hungover?” he asks sitting up and looking at you. You shake your head with a small smile “Oh yeah, I remember you’re one of the blessed ones that don’t seem to get them” he adds, you laugh

“It’s because I’m Barbatos’ favourite, he blessed me with the lack of hangovers” you jest looking to Venti.

You’re not wrong about being Barbatos’ favourite

“Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” he asks with a wink “For the record I’ve been flirting with you for the better part of a year you know” he adds with a giggle

What

“Give me a second to wake up and then I’ll beat your ass for not being obvious” you tell him

“I was being painfully obvious [name]”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti #genshin venti #venti

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gureishi · 3 years

Text

gold rush

✧ — Summary: A chance encounter at the bar where you work. But is anything ever really a coincidence?

✧ — Pairing: Saeyoung x Reader

✧ — Rating: T (light cursing, bar setting)

✧ — A/N: This is probably as close as I’ll get to writing an AU. The way the characters are meeting is a little bit different, but we all know where they’re going to end up. This fic is set two weeks before the start of Deep Story.

chapter one

It was the beginning of a summer sunset—all reds and pinks and white hot light streaming through the windows and making you dizzy—when you saw him.

You didn’t believe in love at first sight or even fortuitous encounters. You thought coincidences were nothing more than accidents and miracles were just funny little bursts of brain chemicals.

And you weren’t interested in meeting anyone new. Your feet ached and your eyes felt heavy; you wanted an ice cold beer or a hot shower or maybe just a nap. But time twisted that day: worlds collided and the sun shone extra bright and your weary mind lit up in a way you’d never be able to explain.

You were standing by the bar when it happened. You had a faded blue rag in your hand, with which you were halfheartedly polishing a wine glass. The bartender (a friend, sort of) was telling you a story and you were gazing longingly at the door. A few more hours, you thought, until you’d leave—till you’d walk down the street with its overflowing trash cans and broken sidewalk, around the corner with its group of old men blaring music through their speakers, and home.

And as you stared at the door, it swung open—almost as if you’d compelled it with your yearning. You sighed and looked down at the wine glass in your hand, because it was slow today and on slow days, customers always wanted to talk.

You didn’t want to talk to anyone. You had no patience for conversation about the heat or somebody’s kids or their upcoming vacation. You wanted to lie on the floor of your bedroom in your underwear and stare at the ceiling fan till you stopped thinking about anything at all.

“Hey,” the bartender said (and her voice was a little too loud, like always, but you put on your best listening face for her). “Look at him.”

You didn’t roll your eyes, though you wanted to. She was younger than you and still found everything interesting—and ultimately you appreciated that about her. Instead, you tilted your head and peered through your lashes at the man by the door.

Ah, you thought (wildly, without knowing why). There he is.

He looked like the sort of person who never quite belonged.

He stood a little bit stiffly, his hands in his pockets—and then he waved at one of your coworkers and smiled, and all at once he seemed to fit in, after all. You didn’t know what to make of it.

“Cute,” the bartender whispered (standing on tiptoe to lean over the bar). “Don’t you think?”

“Oh,” you said, keeping your voice level. “Is he?”

You were a terrible liar. Your skin was screaming and your heart was racing; you felt as though you’d had the wind knocked out of you. The man strode casually across the bar and slid into a chair at one of the high-top tables, and you studied him. The bartender had called him cute, and your unsteady heart seemed to agree—but you weren’t even sure if it was true.

He wasn’t necessarily traditionally attractive. He was neither tall nor well-dressed: he wore jeans and a t-shirt that were both several sizes too big for him, and he had oversized headphones dangling around his neck.

But his hair was a striking shade of red that you’d never seen before—it made you think fleetingly of childhood days playing under a sizzling sun and the sweet taste of lemonade. He wore glasses that suited his soft features, and behind them his eyes were startlingly gold. He looked up and your thoughts scrambled; you felt, for a moment, like you were swimming through thick liquid.

The bartender sighed, stirring your strange vortex of feelings.

“He sat at a table,” she said. “So he’s yours, not mine.”

Yours, huh? You felt vaguely nauseous.

Without a word, you grabbed a big bottle of water from the bin by the bar. Something seemed to have shifted inside you: it was the feeling of seeing the bus pull up when you’ve waited forever—the feeling of an eternity of biding your time coming to an end.

You had no idea why you felt that way.

You paused to check on a couple sitting in a booth as you made your way across the bar, but they didn’t spare you so much as a glance; they were staring silently into each other’s eyes, hands clasped on top of the table. And the man in the corner wasn’t looking at you—he was typing something on his phone, fingers moving so fast you swore they were blurry.

“Hey,” you said when you reached him. His fingers didn’t stop moving when he looked up at you—but your eyes met, and he smiled.

“Hi,” he replied (still typing). His voice was not at all what you’d expected: much brighter and more musical. He cocked his head to the side as though he were drinking you in, and you had the eerie sensation that he was reading your mind.

“Been here before?” you asked (knowing he hadn’t). He set his phone down and drummed his fingers against the table like he couldn’t quite sit still.

“Yeah,” he said. “You don’t remember me?”

Liar, you thought. You took in his earnest expression: trust me eyes and a proud sort of smile. He wanted you to play along.

“Right,” you said, hands on your hips. “Didn’t I kick you out of here before?”

His eyes widened: a remarkable imitation of innocence.

“Me?” he trilled, sounding only mildly curious. “Impossible.”

A lock of his hair fell over his forehead and you felt a fleeting urge to brush it away.

“I could do it again,” you said instead, raising your eyebrows. He looked you up and down (the back of your neck burned), and then he grinned.

“You win!” he exclaimed, bouncing in his seat. It was weird, you thought, that he was so excited not to have fooled you—but there was something about his almost childlike exuberance that made you feel pleasantly squirmy.

“Obviously,” you said. “I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

You hadn’t meant to be so honest, but the words slipped out on their own—and you watched, horrified and delighted, as he flushed a funny shade of fuchsia.

“Really?” he asked, giggling (actually giggling). “Me, specifically?”

It would have been easy to say something biting, but you found that you didn’t want to.

“You, specifically,” you said.

And for an instant, his boldness seemed to slip away: his eyes softened and his hands stilled, and you saw another person entirely. It was someone somber and small—someone who’d been waiting to be told you, specifically for a very long time.

Your heart contracted.

Oh, you thought. Me too.

But the moment had already passed. He was grinning again, his eyes glittering. He winked roguishly, leaning forward.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Oh, what was happening to you?

You glanced around the room: two other tables seemed to have materialized while you were talking to him. In a voice you hoped was level, you asked him what he wanted (just a soda), and then you slipped away to greet the new groups of people. In your peripheral vision, you saw him pulling a laptop out of his bag.

The sun had mostly set by the time you made it back to the bar. You could hear him in the corner, typing away.

The bartender caught your eye and beamed.

“What was that?”

You tried to avoid her gaze.

“What was what?” You put the drinks on a tray.

She rolled her eyes dramatically as though she thought you were being incredibly difficult (and perhaps you were).

“You,” she said, laughing away your attempted ignorance. “Leaning all over the table and making puppy dog eyes.”

“I didn’t do that.” Did you?

“I felt like a real voyeur, watching you just now,” she said. She tossed her hair and you knew that she was teasing, but you still felt a little bit anxious. There was clearly something wrong with you.

“I hope you enjoyed it,” you told her drily. She waved you away; the ice was already melting in the drinks—and her laughter mingled with the sound of muted pop music drumming over the speakers as you strode back into the bustle of the bar.

You dropped drinks at your new tables first, and then you checked in on the couple in the booth (they were making out now, her legs in his lap). You knew that you were stalling.

But you didn’t trust yourself to go back to his table: you didn’t know what you’d do or say. It had been a long, hot summer—a long, dreary year. These days, nothing made you nervous—but the redhead typing furiously in the corner knocked you off balance.

When there was truly nothing left to do but return to him, you made your way across the room (too fast; too slow). You arrived at his side and your heart fluttered. His eyes were trained on his screen.

“I’m back,” you said, and your voice came out perky and loud. He looked up, then, his eyes taking a moment to refocus. Whatever he was doing, it seemed to require a lot of concentration.

Curious, you tried to peek at his screen, but he’d angled it so you couldn’t see. You wondered if he’d done that on purpose.

“Thank god,” he said, grinning crookedly. “I was lost without you.”

You set the glass, which was wet with condensation, on the slightly sticky wooden table. You should’ve brought a napkin or something.

“Are you sure you don’t want something stronger?” you asked, arching your eyebrows. You didn’t say the next part—why come to a bar just to drink Dr. Pepper?—but his smile widened, and for the second time you got the sense that he knew just what you were thinking.

“I don’t drink alcohol,” he said, flicking the wrapper off the straw and taking a sip. He drank soda, you thought, the way college kids drank liquor: hungrily. “You wanna know why I’m here,” he added. His eyes were piercing.

You gestured at his laptop (wondering what sort of program he could possibly be running to make it hum like that).

“I could take a wild guess and say that you’re working.”

He laughed.

“You get me.”

“What are you working on?” Again, you tried to peek at his computer; this time he shut it with a firm snap. Then he leaned in conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling.

“If I told you,” he whispered in a voice that dripped with provocation, “then I’d have to kill you.”

God. You should have expected no less. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms; the Bond act did nothing for you.

“Sure,” you muttered. “That’s what they all say.”

He paused, taking in your defensive posture—and then he burst out laughing. You'd gone from charmed to annoyed in a heartbeat—and now the ringing sound of his laugher was melting the tension from your shoulders. You weren’t sure what to make of it.

“Do you, uh…” he stammered breathlessly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Do you get that a lot?”

“It’s a vibe,” you told him. “Guys who think they’re cooler and more interesting than they really are.” Oh, you didn’t mean to antagonize him—but something about the way he was looking at you egged you on. He rested his chin on his hand and you couldn’t help noticing the thin white scars that dappled his fingers. Huh.

“So you think I think I think I’m interesting?” He was looking in your eyes again. Your knees felt weak.

“I think I…have other tables,” you said. And it was true: it was fully dark out now, and people were trickling in, looking around expectantly for someone to pay attention to them. You needed a break from him or you’d drown (oh, but there was a part of you that wanted to pull up a chair and stare at him till he looked away).

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but it sounded like a challenge.

You smiled because you didn’t know what to say. Talking to him was like skating on the surface of a pond that had just iced over: thrilling and precarious. You darted away (and by the time you’d made it to the other side of the bar, his eyes were back on his screen). It was louder in here now; you couldn’t hear him typing anymore.

You quickly checked on the couple in the corner (still ignoring you) and then greeted two large groups of people around your own age. One was friendly and probably already drunk (they ordered a round of shots); the other was stiff and rude. You suppressed a sigh as all eight of them ordered drinks that weren’t on the menu; as soon as they’d sent you away, they called you back to make several changes (because people like that always did).

Martini with a twist, not a gin fizz, you chanted in your mind as you shimmied through the crowd of people who’d gathered around the bar. Your mind was tired and hazy (and the man in the corner wasn’t helping; all your nerves seemed to be firing randomly, making your skin feel too tight).

You typed the order into the POS, trying to ignore the redhead in your peripheral vision; his table was just an arm’s length away. The bar was getting noisier now, and the familiar cacophony of music and voices soothed you and made you sleepy.

And then, in the midst of the sea of sounds: “Hey.”

You felt his eyes on you at the same time you heard his voice. You turned to see him watching you, your heart doing a little dance behind your ribs.

“What’s up?”

He smiled lazily and rested his chin on his hands.

“Don’t forget the martini,” he said.

For a moment, you stared at him—and then it dawned on you. Martini with a twist, not a gin fizz. You’d definitely just put the order in wrong.

“How’d you know that?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously. His face gave nothing away.

“How’d I know the order, or how’d I know you’d forget it?”

“Either,” you said (giving in, leaning on his table). “Both.”

“I’m a good listener.” His grin was too big (almost wicked): he was enjoying this. “I’m a good watcher, too.”

And that did seem to be the case. His penetrating eyes seemed to take in everything: a whisper of someone’s hair against their skin; a brush of fingertips beneath a table. You wondered what exactly he saw when he looked at you; you wondered what he’d say if you asked.

“Thanks,” you said. “Can you just hang out here all night and do my thinking for me?”

“I wish,” he muttered, sounding a little bit awkward. You got the sense that he meant it. You were starting to form a response when the bartender caught your eye—and you sighed, remembering that you needed to intercept her before she made the wrong drink.

“I’ve gotta—”

“Go,” he said.

You slipped from his side back into the crowd, but your thoughts seemed to have gotten stuck. You heard his voice in your mind as you spoke to the bartender; you imagined he was watching you as you ran some drinks (but you checked, and his eyes were glued to his screen).

The friendly drunk girls called you over and convinced you to do a shot with them (which wasn’t really allowed, but nobody followed that particular rule). The rude table complained that the music was too loud and the AC was too high. The couple in the booth finally asked for their bill.

Time—too much time—passed before you found yourself free again. You paid out the clingy couple and turned to face the dimly lit room, and your heart skipped a beat.

Your redhead was standing, tapping his fingers idly against the table.

“You’re leaving?” You darted to his side, relieved you’d caught him—anxious that he’d almost left without saying goodbye. “You gonna disappear into the night and never return or something?”

He grinned, but his cheeks were pink. He picked up on your sincerity whether you wanted him to or not.

“I’m going to the other side of the universe,” he said. He was slinging his bag over his shoulder, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’d left a wad of cash on the table (it looked like way too much). “If I don’t get lost in space, I’ll be back for you.”

The bottoms of your feet tingled. It felt strangely intimate to be standing face-to-face like this.

“What’s your name?” you asked. “So I don’t forget you this time.” You winked, because you wanted him to think you meant it lightly—but something dark passed across his expression anyway. That scared him, you thought. He’s afraid of being—

But he was already smiling wider; the moment of solemnity was gone before you could acknowledge it.

“If I told you,” he said, “I’d have to—”

“I’m leaving!” you declared, turning away from him with as much flair as you could muster. He cackled, and then his hand shot out and closed around your wrist.

Time had been moving in strange swirls and eddies all night; now, it stopped altogether.

“Oh,” he said. “Uh.”

His hand fell as you turned to face him. He hadn’t meant to touch you, you thought: he’d done it impulsively, instinctively—and something had snapped. A line had been crossed. His face was very red.

“Seven,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse and weak, like he’d just been burned. “You can call me Seven.”

“Like the number?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That way every time you count you’ll remember who I am.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if anyone else had said something like that to you—but he stood so awkwardly and spoke so earnestly that you thought he might actually have meant it.

“I count a lot,” you told him. “I hope you’re prepared to be on my mind at least once an hour.”

He smiled and leaned forward and for a single, wild moment you thought he was going to kiss you.

Instead, he whispered in your ear. His breath gave you goosebumps.

“You’re the one who should be prepared,” he said. “Once I’m in your mind, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

Before you could respond, he’d pulled back; he was retreating, lifting a hand and giving you an energetic wave.

“Bye, then,” he trilled. And then he said your name.

You were quite sure you’d never mentioned it.

“Oh—” you started to say—but the door chimed, and he was gone.

It was over.

Rocking back on your heels, you looked wearily around the bar. Everything was normal: the chattering of people and the beat of a song that had already played three times that night. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

But you couldn’t forget.

You went through the motions, because you had to: you spoke to people and brought drinks and cleared tables and thought about bright golden eyes. More people gathered around the bar, but the tables cleared out quickly—and you dutifully wiped them down and blew out all the little candles and imagined you were anywhere but there. You counted money with stiff fingers and collected your cash tips and bid goodbye to the bartender and wondered if it was still hot out.

It turned out that it was.

You nudged open the door with your hip and the heat hit you like the big, dangerous ocean waves you’d only ever seen in pictures. It was late (early, even) and the street was nearly empty; another bar across the street buzzed vaguely and the air shimmered with late night summer wetness. Wishing you were already home, you ran a sticky hand through your hair and turned the corner onto a street that you knew was always empty.

Except it wasn’t.

Someone was there.

Oh, you thought (frantically, irrationally). It’s him.

You could barely make out the figure in the darkness, but he was the same general shape as your mysterious redhead. He was the right height, and his hair was wild, and—

Your heart raced. Had he waited for you after all?

But then the figure stepped forward and the streetlight shone in his eyes. They were the color of a clear sea after a storm.

You cursed yourself for hoping; you felt as though you’d been sucked dry. The stranger looked just enough like your redhead, but also altogether different: his hair was bright white and he stood perfectly still, like a predator lurking in the shadows.

And for no good reason, you had the sense that you were meant to be the prey.

The man smiled—almost a smile, one corner of his lips quirking upward. You wanted to say something (what?), but he was already turning away. He walked slowly, like he wasn’t in any hurry—but two steps were enough: he disappeared into the darkness on the other side of the streetlamp.

You were left alone with the tingling in your toes and the feeling that you had been caught.

A coincidence, you told yourself firmly (but you retraced your steps, deciding it would be safest to take another route home). Or maybe just my imagination.

You turned onto your block and unlocked the front door to your building and squinted against the fluorescent lighting. The people around you, you thought, believed in fate and miracles because these things made them feel better about their otherwise ordinary lives. But you didn’t agree: time marched endlessly forward, and there was nothing to be done about it.

Oh, and yet—

You pushed open the door to your apartment (dark and hot as always), kicking off your shoes and fumbling for the light. You knew better than to believe in the things that made your friends pretend that life was softer and sparklier than it really was. You did.

But the air tasted different now. You knew it—irrevocably, inexplicably—whether you wanted to believe it or not.

Tonight, around sunset, everything had changed.

#mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #multichapter #gold rush

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