#I am happy with the few I know that smile

[theriu]

OP here! Please let me assure you that I am aware of The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals. I looked it up the first day I posted this when people began tagging it.

They have not stopped tagging it. I am adrift in a sea of TGWDLM recommendations and "OP doesn't know about" and "What youre looking for is" and the simple tragedy is that after watching the first few minutes of the musical and reading a plot synopsis I knew it is not for me as I don't like horror (yes even comedic horror). Also the aliens communicate by singing and not just dance so it does not quite fit my original vision.

Thank you all for sharing my post, I'm happy this made you smile and reminded me of something you love, but please by all that is merciful know that no one else need inform me of the existence of TGWDLM because you've done your job well and I could not be more aware if Starkid came and performed in my very house 🫠 OKAY THANKS LOVE YOU

For as popular as the idea of a "hivemind" is we never talk about how it doesn't exist in nature. There's no animal colony that connects and controls all its members through a psychic connection. Even bees, the eponimous hivemind, communicate by pheremones and, more importantly, interpretive dance. My point is when are we going to get a movie about an intensely organized alien race that mainly communicates via sick dance moves, why are we sleeping on this.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 059 - Lover! HSR Men x Fem! Reader: Period Cramps ♡ ˎˊ˗

꒰ Dan Heng, Aventurine, Caelus, Sunday ꒱

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕟𝕘 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Dan Heng is actually a veteran in taking care of girls during their periods. Why? You have March 7th to thanks for that. His poor friend's cramps are hell so he stepped up to assist whenever he can if Himeko isn' present to soothe her.

So when it comes to you? It's no problem really, he even enjoys the fact that you're relying on him for this since it shows that you trust him entirely.

Does he track your period schedule? Definitely, he has a tracker installed in his phone that he always checks. Periods are tricky and he wants to know incase anything wrong comes your way.

A little overdevoted of him, but you're not complaining. Why would you?

He has everything prepared a week advanced before your period.

Heating pads? Check. Extra napkins? Check. Snacks? Check. Chocolates? Check. Medicine for cramps? Check. Plushies? Washed and ready.

"Is your stomach acting up? No?" Dan Heng asks as he secures the blanket over you after placing a heating pad on your belly.

"I hate being a girl..." You complain, curling up further beside him for comfort.

"I know, but just for a few more days, it'll be alright" He says, stroking your head lovingly. "How about a movie? There are a bunch of new movies I managed to download."

"Okay..."

You actually passed out halfways into the movie, which Dan heng of course predicted already since he had the lights in his room already turned off. He changed the heating pad on your stomach first before tucking himself back in.

"Goodnight," Dan heng mumbles, placing a peck on your forehead before pulling you in for a cuddle.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔸𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"There we go" Aventurine gently settles you down on the bed after placing an extra towel on it. "Is that better, love?"

You nod, cuddling the teddy bear he bought you just because you're on your monthly hell.

Your period week is strictly a no-gambling and no-business-trips time for Aventurine. Even if his bosses and the other stonehearts decide to bug him into doing stuff.

He values your happiness and comfort above all else, even work. So to hell with them if the ipc blows up out of nowhere during your menstruation. Aventurine will just throw a middle finger at them and laugh at their misery.

Aventurine was so dedicated he spent hours reading books about periods and even goes so far to research good napkin brands that wont make you itch.

He wants nothing more than the highest of qualities for his beloved who is going through a lot just because a woman's body decided to evolve suffering like this. he even has some doctors on stand by just incase anything goes wrong.

Of course, we can't forget his philanthropic side— this peacock man needs to spend his money on you even for the littlest things. You'll be having brand new jewelry, cosmetics and perfumes coming in rapid succession for you as well as a barrage of kisses to go along with it.

"My poor princess, are you sure you don't need anything else?" He asks, kissing each and every one of your fingers. "Should I order some shortcakes for you? Or should I call the doctor to check on you?"

"Vasha... I'm not bedridden..." You say.

"I know, but I would rather not risk anything happening bad, so if anything hurts too much you must tell me" Aventurine simply smiles.

"Your kisses are more than enough"

"Who am I to say no to that?"

And with that, he dives in to pepper your precious and pretty face with pecks.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ ℂ𝕒𝕖𝕝𝕦𝕤 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Okay, everything is settled" Caelus nods to himself after making a makeshift pillow fort in his bed for you to snuggle in.

The plushies he had ordered just arrived in time with your menstrual cycle. He made sure to ask March 7th about this just to be sure too. He can't screw this up—

Yeah, he's acting like he's about to go through something major or something. What an idiot.

Your lovable idiot atleast.

"Cae? I'm back" You say, walking out of the bathroom after changing your napkin. "???"

"Ah... Well" Your boyfriend sheepishly scrtaches the back of his head as you glance at the makeshift fort he managed to make during your time in the bathroom. "I figured I should make a fort so we could snuggle up more?... I don't know"

"You're cute" You laugh, kissing his cheek before crawling into the fort he made. "I like the fort, maybe you should keep it"

"I'll order more pillows and a canopy for my bed then" He grins before going in after you. "I'm not really good at taking care of you, my bad"

"It's fine, just you being with me is more than enough and I'd much rather cuddle with you" You wrap your arms affectionately around his waist. "Just be you as usual, that's more than enough."

"I should be the one comforting you" Caelus pouts, rubbing your cheeks together just so he can elicit a sweet giggle from your lips. "If there is is anything I can do, please just tell me what you need and I'll do my best"

"You're really like a puppy" You muse, kissing his cheek lovingly.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕪 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Just like Dan Heng, Sunday is a veteran at this. His mother died before his sister had her very first menstrual cycle. And although there were servants around to assist— he still took the initiative to help Robin himself because he was her brother.

The result of that? He's absolutely good at taking care of you during your period. Much like Dan Heng, he has a period tracker on his phone and prepares everything in advance the week before your period starts.

But of course, Sunday actually memorized your cycle dates, he just prefers to be more organized and to fouble(triple) check everything

It's much more important for him to be assured that eveything is ready.

"Not like that, you'll make your stomach hurt even more, dear" Sunday says, putting down the book he was reading and reaches out to rub firm but gentle circles around your tummy. "I know it's different for each woman, but this is the method I used on my sister when her cramps are bad. Is that better?"

"Yes..." You nod weakly, melting into his massages quickly. "You're really good at this"

"it's only because I took care of my baby sister a lot" Sunday replies, keeping his gentle pace to help ease your pain.

"Robin must miss you" You mumble.

"It's alright" He shook his head, smiling bitterly. "I miss her too, but one day we will reunite. But right now you're the main character. You need me since your cramps as especially bad during the first few days of your cycle."

"What did I even do to deserve you?" You whisper, slowly drifting off to sleep the further he massaged you.

Sunday wouldn't reply until you finally gave in to the call of sleep.

"I need you more than you need me" He finally says, replying to your unconcious state while pressing his lips on your forehead. "So let me do this, it's the least I can do since you never gave up on me"

꒰ 🪼 A/N: This one is a bad fic but I'm really deep in writer's block. I'll try to get it in my next one. For now please be patient with me qwq. I hope you guys understand huhu. I'll try to make more comprehensive and better fics:3 ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[uracutieraka]

Bakugo Katsuki who finally gets a date with his support course crush!

find part one here!

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Bakugo Katsuki started acting completely different after he met you. His once perfect (to his standards at least) reputation was now ruined. The reason? Midoriya's cute support course friend.

Ever since you waltzed over to him with your sweet smile, and oh so pretty eyes, he finds himself nearly bewitched by you. It was driving him absolutely insane!

What was even more insane though, was watching this all unfold from and outside perspective.

Denki found himself nearly throwing up anytime you were even brought up in front of his friend, not because he thought you were gross, in fact it was the opposite. He found how down bad Bakugo was for you down right disturbing.

The normally mean and arrogant man seemed to do a 180° personality change when you came around, or even got mentioned in passing.

Denki especially hated it when you had now found yourself a regular member of their little lunch table. It just meant 40 minutes of watching Bakugo mindlessly nod his head with a glazed over look in his eyes, every. time. you. spoke.

"Gross." Denki says aloud as he bites into his sandwich. Eyes squinting as he watches the two of you like a hawk.

Sero looks over at his electric friend with a knowing smirk.

"You are so jealous Kaminari."

"Am not!"

The ruckus on the other side of the booth has you and Bakugo breaking away from your vicious flirting to study the source of the commotion.

His friends are sitting across from you arguing back and forth as Kirishima continues eating as if all was normal.

"Is everything okay?"

The boys now look over at the sound of the worried voice to see you. You have a concerned look on your face as you dart your eyes back and forth between them.

Denki looks over at his friend to see what his reaction will be to the boys interrupting you and him. To his dismay, bakugo has that stupid dopey smile on his face as he watched your every move.

Ok so maybe Denki was slightly jealous, but like, who wouldn't be? You were pretty and obviously attentive, smart but not arrogant, and worst of all, you liked Bakugo of all people.

Maybe he wouldn't be so upset at the situation if you liked Kirishima or literally anyone but the brooding Blond. It's not that he didn't want his friend to be happy, it's just that he didn't want him to get a girlfriend before he could.

So yeah maybe he was a bit jealous, but it wasn't that crazy.

Sero is quick to tell you everything is fine and to go back to what you were doing and you're quick to flash him a smile and nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the boy you were originally sat over here for.

You watch from the corners of your eyes as his friends go back to arguing but this time they're whisper yelling at each-other. You yet again lean slightly past Bakugo to see the red head sat behind him.

Kirishima only takes his eyes up from his tray of food when he hears his name being said. He looks up with a mouth full of food at the sound of your voice in his ears.

He takes a moment to hurriedly chew his food and swallow before responding.

"So, I was thinking, what if we just added some horns to your head gear instead of you always having to style your hair?"

Bakugo watched you interact with his classmates and feels himself pout a bit at the lack of attention.

You quickly glance at him through your peripheral vision and can see his bottom lip poking out as his eyebrows are furrowed together.

You decide to leans ever so slightly closer to the side of him so your knees are no longer the only parts of you touching.

He flushes and you feel him take a deep breath once your hip and leg is completely flush with his.

You now use your hand on his upper arm to support yourself as you look at Kirishima.

You and Kirishima share a few ideas back and forth with each other about the schematics of his hero costume.

You only end it when you see Bakugo roll his eyes.

You're quick to check your watch and stand up to excuse yourself.

Bakugo feels himself grow disappointed at the idea, a sad frown crossing his face to prove it.

You shoot him that intoxicating smile and ask him if he'd like to walk you to class.

"It's just awfully far and the walk is so boring by myself."

Bakugo yet again giggles at the invite and cleans up his lunch. He take the tray from your hands and you silently laugh at the way he puffs out his chest when you thank him and call him a gentleman.

Once he properly disposes of the trays you grab his wrist and quickly make your exit from the crowded area. He allows himself to be dragged off by you with a wide smile and soft eyes, chuckle bubbling out of him at your eagerness to leave.

If you told Bakugo a month ago that he'd be acting like one of those corny shojou manga guys he probably would've tried to fight you, but here he is now. Eyes never leaving the back of you as you lead him through the vast halls of UA.

After a few minutes of walking you slow down and drop his wrist, coming instead to stand at his side. He's kind of sad at the loss of contact with you but its quickly dissipated when you lean into him and nudge him slightly with your shoulder.

He looks down at you with a smile on his face and you give him the same expression as you two continue dow the halls towards your classroom.

Before the two of you turn down the hallways to your class, you stop him and lean your back on the wall.

He gives you a suspicious look and you tuck you hair behind your ear before talking.

"I don't want my teacher to see us yet.," a dry laugh comes from you before you decide it's best if you maybe actually looked at him while taking. He swears he can feel his heart stop (ifykyk) when you look back at him with a blush on your face and big doe eyes.

"I just wanted to say that I think you're super cute and wanted to know if you were maybe free tonight?"

He can feel his chest tighten at your words and he inhales at the sudden pit of anxiety in his abdomen.

He was free tonight, as he was most nights anyways.

"Yeah, are you?" He cringes internally at the dumb question, obviously you were. You wouldn't be asking him if you were busy. He feels a sense of relief when your siren like giggle swims around in head, ringing in his ears.

"Actually, I'm pretty busy tonight. I'm hanging out with this guy later then have some work to do on his friends costumes." You're tone is flat and he takes you seriously.

You watch as heartbreak over takes his face.

You playfully scoff and swat his chest.

"I'm talking about you Katsuki!" Another heavenly laugh graces his ears and he almost cries tears of joy from the sound alone.

"Oh." He says, heat creeping up his neck and ears as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck.

"Pick me up at my dorm at 7:30?"

Normally, if you were anyone else, he would shut them down with s 'no' and the fact he goes to bed at 8 p.m. sharp every night. Though he quickly hears a desperate 'yes' tumble out his mouth before he can say anything else.

"Perfect!" You say, standing on your tippy toes to lean up and give him a soft peck on his cheek, something you had been doing since the day you met him. Though today you wore lipstick, something you normally skipped due to the inconvenience of it.

The dark red color stains his skin and you giggle before turning and walking off to class. The bell chimes and you turn around to holler at him.

"You have 10 minutes before you're supposed to be on the training course by the way Kacchan!" a mischievous smile tugs its way on your face as you wink and blow him a kiss before disappearing into your classroom.

He watches you with a fascinated look before he fully registers your words.

'Shit.' He thinks before bolting off to his class.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"You're late Bakugo." Aizawa dead pans as he walks up to the rest of his class on the platform.

He rolls his eyes and goes to respond before he's cut off again.

"Hey, what's on your face?" Midoriya asks, pointing to his cheek.

A few other students crowd him to get a look at the mysterious red mark.

"Is that a lipstick stain! What were you and that support course girl doing?!" Mineta pipes up.

Bakugo goes to hit him but is stopped when Mina goes to wipe it off.

He shoots himself up into the air and away from all of them.

They all watch in shock at his quick reflexes.

"Don't touch me idiot!"

Mina rolls her eyes and finally Denki chimes in.

"Bakugo, dude, get a grip it's just makeup."

Him and Denki ended up fighting so bad that he has to call you with the other boy to explain that he'll be there at 8 to pick you up instead, due to the fact him and Denki had to help Aizawa grade papers and clean the dorm showers as punishment for the disruption in class.

You giggle when he finally does come around to get you later that night. He has his hands shoved into his pockets and a nervous look on his face that seems to subside when you come out the front door and yet again leave a small kiss to the side of his face. He swears that you must have secret powers because of the way he gets so flustered anytime you even just breathe in his direction.

He hadn't heard the end of it in weeks, his friends constantly making fun of him for his rapid change in behavior. He didn't care though, which he even found weird himself, though he would never admit that to anyone.

He admires your cleaned up appearance, though he found it cute when you had your hair thrown up messily and grease stains on your face from whatever project you were currently working on in class.

"So, Katsuki," The sound of his actual name causes his ears to perk up and another woozy smile to sit on his face. "There's something that I want to show you."

You reach out and place your hand gently on his shoulder and run it down his arm, fingers lazily intertwining with his. You study how he reacts to your touch. You would be lying if you said you didn't throughly enjoy watching the notoriously angry man fold underneath the slightest bit of attention from you.

Though, you also can't help how it seems like your brain just turns off when you talk to him, a ditzy side of you that you didn't even know existed seeps out of you. It's like you can't help yourself. The desire to see that lovesick grin cover his face is all consuming.

You watch as he eventually gives you a few slow nods, showing you his approval to seeing whatever it is you want to show him. His eyes never leave where your hand is connected with his.

He thinks that this is probably the most amount of affection he's ever shown or accepted for anything.

You two walk in silence as you lead him to the school building, only when you scan a card to get in does he stand firm in his place with a weary look on his face. You turn back with a small frown at his solid stance.

"What's wrong?"

"Why are we at the school?"

You let go of him and turn around with and eyeball and a sigh, he knows it's just you poking fun at him due to the way the corners of your lips twitch up a bit as you speak.

"I don't know if you know this but support course students have 24 hour access to the school."

He in fact did not know this. You watch as his face contorts in confusion so you explain why as you rescan your ID card and open the door for him.

"Well for starters, our teacher is always here. He practically lives in the work room." He watches as a small snort leaves your body at the idea of your teacher living at school. "And it's also hard to stop us from working on our projects outside of class. The principle decided it was best to give us full access after a students dorm almost caught on fire when he plugged in his power saw." You continue to mindlessly ramble about how dumb he was for even attempting to do something like that in a small dorm, and how it's frustrating to have to walk all the way here in the middle of the night just to tinker around with small gadgets you could work on in bed.

He doesn't really hear anything you're saying though as his eyes are focused on the way your lips move and eyes seem to glimmer in the florescent lighting of the school halls.

He now fully takes in the way your hair is neatly styled and laid over your shoulders, and the way you have makeup on. He feels a since of pride at the idea of you getting all dolled up just for him to see. Though he quickly feels his knees buckle when you suddenly stop and push yourself up to him and wrap your arms around his neck before giving him a quick hug.

When you pull away you turn your head in an attempt to shy away from his gaze before you start talking to him.

He watches as you mess with the hem of your awfully short summer dress.

His face flushes at the way he can't tear his eyes off where the hem of the dress sways around your thighs.

You finally stop your gentle swaying and take a deep breath.

It's only when the flowy material stops moving completely that he looks back at you, he has to take in a harsh breath at how you look.

Sure you had looked at him head on before, and sometimes you had even bit your lips and blinked up at him! But this? This was something else. You had a wavering smile on your face as your cheeks were now full blown red. For once you were the overly flustered one.

"So uhm, Katsuki, I've been working on this for a couple weeks, and uhm, I'm really nervous to show you," You give him and awkward close eyed smile as you wipe your hands on the sides of your dress, because of this you miss the way he physically swoons at how adorable you look right now. "and it's not like its super amazing or anything! So don't make fun of me, okay?"

"No promises." A cheeky grin now hung on his face, it's the most confident you've seen him act around you, but like always it's cut short by you laughing and rejoining your hands to keep pulling him to your classroom.

You open the door and cringe at how squeaky it is. You turn back and put your finger up to your lip, signaling for him to be quiet.

"Mr. Majima?" Your voice chirps and echos through the metal work shop.

Bakugo wonders who you're calling out for.

He looks around the space, eyeing all the different things in wonder. He's shocked he's never been down here before. He looks back when he hears a loud crashing noise and sees someone pop around the corner.

"Oh! Y/n! Hi! I see you brought your, what'dya call him? Oh that's right! Your friend boy." A teasing tone is laced in the young teachers tone as you loudly groan and flick a lose nail up at the metal gear on his head.

"Bakugo Katsuki!," The teacher he now knows is Power Loader makes his way over to the blond. He watches as the man walks around him and inspects him a bit. Mumbling under his breath. He now turns back to you. "Interesting."

Bakugo feels like a bug getting crushed under someones foot at the choice of words.

"Whatever, Higari. Why don't you go tell my dad about how you nearly blew me up this morning with your stupid new invention." An eye roll and scoff has the older man backing off. Mumbling under his breath about how you were a spoiled brat.

Bakugo watches as he quickly leaves from the way you two had just entered.

"So you know him personally?" His voice holds a slight tremble at the new idea of how completely alone you two were.

You dryly chuckle and begin digging around, what he assumes, is your work station.

"Yeah, him and my dad have been friends since like forever ago. He's actually the one who convinced me to come here to UA. My top pick was a sister school in America."

Bakugo takes in the new information and stores it in his brain under a big fat file with your name on it.

"Wow," he shoves his hands back deep in his pockets. "America? That's far." He wants to slam his face into the wall for being so awkward.

You let out a frustrated huff before turning back to him with a laugh.

"Yeah it is!," you pout your lip out and tap your chin for a moment, lost in thought. "That means I wouldn't have met you! I guess staying has some perks." You send him a small smile before your more focused and frustrated scowl causes your brows to furrow close together, turning back to searching for whatever you had been looking for to begin with.

His eyes scan over the papers lazily tacked and stuck to your wall.

Sketches of Kirishima's costume are laid at the top of all papers. He steps forward to get a better look as you continue throwing drawers open and rummaging through them.

He slides the papers over and now realizes you had sketches of most of his friends costumes, with notes about what you could take away and add. He smiles softly before his eyes catch on a paper tucked underneath all your other ones. He sneakily glances at you through the corners of his eyes to make sure you're still preoccupied. His hand quickly shoves the paper to the side and double checks you didn't hear.

When he's 100% positive you're still busy he allows himself to fully look down. He feels his eyes get wide as he's greeted with the image.

Heat rushes up in his face as his eyes scan over it. Your name is scrawled all over it, but that's not what has him all giddy inside. His last name is written so prettily next to it. He thought his last name was so simple and boring but seeing it like this. In your handwriting? He's convinced it's the most beautiful name ever written, ever.

You stand up quickly and he jumps away from the desk, like he had gotten caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

Your eyes quickly fall onto where he was just standing looking down at, and widen. Heat shooting all over your body in embarrassment.

You jump over and shove papers around to cover it up.

You're apologizing to him frantically, but he doesn't care. He's looking at you like you just hung the stars up in the sky. The idea of you sitting there and doodling that over and over again yet again bring a cocky since of pride over him.

He takes the moment of clarity to show his true self a bit.

"So? Y/n Bakugo, huh?" He sees you deflate in on yourself and he suddenly feels bad for teasing you. He stutters in his head before deciding to say something else.

"It, uhm, it's a good fit." He was definitely going to make Kirishima punch him in the face later.

He watches as you now tilt your head and give him a confused stare.

"Our names...together..."

Oh my god why is he so nervous?

He watches as you bring your hands up to cover your mouth as you stifle a laugh. After a moment of fighting it you finally let it out. He watching with curious eyes until you stop and look at him, now putting your hands on your hips and standing up straighter.

"This is so awkward." The remnants of a chuckle slowly die down after you're done talking.

He feels slightly relieved at the fact you think so too, and that you also were nervous.

Bakugo hadn't spoked much since you met him, which always perplexed you for a few reasons.

He was known for being a loud and obnoxious student.

He was extremely talkative over text.

And lastly, he just overall seemed like the type to like hearing himself talk.

You hummed and motion for him to follow you. As you're walking you begin talking again.

"Ok, so like I said, you can't make fun of me for this, it's not my best work but I can always tinker with it later."

He's so busy looking around that he doesn't see you stop, causing himself to bump into you slightly.

He lets a sorry out under his breath as he goes to stand you up straight.

You tell him its okay before telling him to close his eyes.

"Why?" You can tell he's unsure about this but he reluctantly does it anyways when you tell him he'll see in a moment.

You walk around and place your hands on his shoulders guiding him forward a few feet. He feels cold when you let go of him.

He listens as you rummage around for a moment, he pokes his eye open but you're quick to run over and put your hands over them.

"Hey! No peaking!" You slightly uncover his eyes by sliding your fingers open. He has them screwed shut now.

You pull away from him and continue setting up.

"Okay!" You chirp out after a moment. He opens his eyes hesitantly.

He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on a pile of fabric neatly folded on a table.

"Well, aren't you gonna look at it?" You use your arms to motion between him and the present.

He walk towards it, slowly and unsure. You sigh and step forward, extending your hand out to him. He takes it with no hesitation. You guide him to stand over what he now notices as the base for his costume.

He gives you wide eyes.

"Is this..." His voice trails off as he brings his fingers to run over the soft material.

"Yep! A completely new type of fabric that's never been invented before!"

He was looking between you and the clothes in awe and shock. Did you really go out of your way to do this for him?

You clear your throat and begin to tell him about the process.

"So basically it's completely flame resistant while simultaneously feeling like 100% cotton. It also traps the sweat on your skin in the arm area, since that's how your quirk functions."

He had mentioned a brief complaint about the material of his costume to you in passing while you two were texting after his training one day.

He hated the feel of the current flame proof material that the support company had provided for him. It was stiff and itchy. But he couldn't wear his regular cotton shirts due to the fact they burned right up when he used his quirk.

"Oh and also.." You reach behind you and pull out a box, it's wrapped in cute pink wrapping paper with unicorns on it. He chuckles at the girly design as he grabs It out of your extended hands.

"Sorry, it was the only kind I had on hand." You shrug slightly and he laughs quietly and nods 'no'

"It's cute, very you."

You blush at the idea of him perceiving you enough to think something was 'very you'.

He stares at it for a moment.

"Open it." You whisper and he briefly flickers his eyes up at you. You have a soft smile on your face but your eyes are bright and excited.

He's gentle opening it. Using a quick finger to slide under the tape and carefully pull the paper off. You think it's cute the way he's so delicate and coordinated. He slides the top of the box off and can feel a familiar lump in the back of his throat, he's quick to swallow it down and look back up at you.

"Did you seriously make this? By hand? With your own brain?" You laugh at his boyish excitement.

You teasingly tap your temple and spout off a witty remark.

"All me baby. 100% the real thing too."

He looks back down in the box. They don't look like anything exciting or crazy but they were in fact the opposite.

To anyone else they would look like regular earplugs, but to you and him they were the invention that could potentially save his hearing in the long run.

"They tune out loud explosions, and any smaller ones. There's a small bracelet like band in the long sleeve I made you that can detect the size and estimated impact of an explosion by the temperature of heat that radiates on your body therefore calculating important information that then gets sent to the earphones to effectively muffle the sounds of the blasts."

You're so beautiful when you talk smart.

His eyes widen as he realizes he said that out loud and not in his head. For the nth time tonight alone he feels his face flush in embarrassment.

You stop your rambling as you turn to look at him.

"What?" Your voice is sweet and a teasing smile plays at your mouth.

He decides that if there was anytime to stand his ground it was now, but as he goes to talk the words seem to suddenly be stolen straight out of his mouth. You had taken his moment of weakness to close the distance between the two of you. Your hands wrapping around both of his biceps, giving them a slight squeeze as you push your face up into his.

"You think i'm beautiful?" Your voice is in a low whisper as you look at him with hooded eyes.

He stutters over his words at the proximity.

"Y-yeah," he take a deep breath. "of course I do."

You let out a quiet titter and lean in. Pressing a quick and chaste kiss to his mouth.

You pull back quickly though, because the doors reopen.

You both look across the large room to see a few of your classmates with your teacher.

"Aha! So you are with Bakugo Katsuki!" An accusatory finger points at you as your friend yells across the room at you.

Bakugo looks at you and you give him a nervous shrug.

"I told her that I wasn't seeing you tonight," you drop your voice low and lean over with a hand covering your mouth. "She doesn't like you because of what you said at the sports festival that one time."

He internally kicks himself for being such a douchebag back then.

"Whatever!," You shout back, making your way towards the man that was hidden behind your three friends. "Higari! You seriously went and snitched on me?" He watches as you stomp towards your dads friend with an annoyed look.

The man is quick to shuffle even closer behind the small wall of your friends, a sign of fear.

Bakugo chuckles as he looks back down to the box in his hands, then over to the clothes on the table. He now realized he had a new life goal, one that was far more important than becoming the number one hero. Bakugo Katsuki was going to marry you one day.

[sim0nril3y]

Oml I love your weighting style so much!!!!!

I have no idea if you’ve already done something’s like this but I think a cute little fluffy moment where reader is at the shop and one of Simon’s men run into her, they don’t know she’s daiting Simon and start flirting but soon realizes she’s Simon’s gf when he like calls or something!

Feel free not to do it but just putting it out there ❤️💗

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Note: This was such a fun request, thank you so much for requesting it! Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), canon-typical swearing.

Your eyes lingered on the wall of spices and ingredients before you. Now, what was it that Simon had said to get? Was it ground cardamom or cardamom pods? Bugger, why hadn’t you been listening? Maybe it was because you were thoroughly distracted because Simon had just gotten out of the shower, standing there in all his nude glory, water trickling down his big burlychest…

Concentrate.

Now, he had said… oh, which one was it? Think. Think… think about his strong chest and broad shoulders… his tummy and that wonderful happy trail… the way his hair was all ruffled and wet. Fuck, you were so damn lucky-

“Is there a reason that you’re looking at that spice rack like you’re about to tackle it to the ground?” A charming tone came from beside you, glancing over to see a young man standing with basket in hand, handsome smile on his face, eyes filled with humour. “Do you find spices that offensive?” He quizzed.

“What? Oh, no…” A laugh sprung from your lips then, shaking your head. This man was unreasonably pretty, tall and an intense but welcoming gaze. “No, no… I’m just trying to remember what I need…” Then your eyes wandered back to that wall of spices again.

The man hummed and then said. “Ah, so you didn’t write it down?” He quizzed, stepping forward to be beside you. “Now, that is a problem cause… I mean, there are quite a few aren’t there…” The heavy dose of sarcasm to his tone made a laugh spring from your lips. “Luckily for you I am an absolute genius when it comes to spices, so I can help you out.” The way he grinned was bordering on cocky.

“Oh, my hero~” You replied back resisting the urge to roll your eyes, but he simply chuckled and returned back. “Well, some people call me that, but you call me-”

A curt tone came from behind you. “Private Stone.” You saw the fear that shocked through him then, clearly recognising the sound of Simon’s voice with far less affection that you did. “Lt. Riley.” He hiccupped back, standing a little straighter, face far less charmingly smiley now.

Just as Simon moved to be standing by your side his arm wrapped around your waist and the message was very clear to the young man. “I’m surprise to see you swanning around off base when you have you re-test tomorrow morning. I would have thought passing that might be more crucial than chatting up birds at the supermarket.” He watched the way the Private shook his head all too quickly and held up a firm hand in his direction. “I don’t want to hear it. You better make yourself scarce.”

It was only a moment later that the Private went rushing off down the aisle away from the two of them and Simon chuckled to himself as he stepped forward to pick up the cardamom pops from the row of spices, glancing over his shoulder at you. “What?” “You had far too much fun with that.” You smirked back to him.

“Maybe.” Simon answered, stepping over to wrapped his strong arms around you, forcing his hand into the back of your jean pocket and squeezing in a tender way. “I know a way we can have more fun. C’mon, we should get home.”

Masterlist | Ask | 30-01-2025

[paladinofgalaxy]

Is there a fic with this idea?

Imagine a reporter just not having it. She saw what kind of effect it had when he died. Hell even Batman acted differently.

They must he close I guess.

The reporter attended at the gala for a different reason, but just was curious and done...

"Mister Todd-Wayne, can I interview you?"

Jason turned around and Bruce who stands behind him gave a quick glance.

The young man who was dead stands smiling before her.

"Sir, can you tell me about the rumors that you came back to the living after 5 years being officially dead."

Bruce drop his glass of champagne while talking to other guests.

Jasons smile drops and he stares. For a moment it looks like his eyes turn green. It takes a few seconds, but then he responds.

"Well miss, you know with the old man as your dad it takes some years... But I can't say if I was dead or not. Maybe for a moment or a few days. Who knows. Or I wasn't dead to begin with."

The reporter nods and takes it all in.

"Sir, what do you think when people of gotham think you're a zombie or from another universe."

Jason laughs. "You know, maybe I am. But I think this conversation is done now. I don't want to startle the old man."

At the same time Bruce lays a hand on Jason's broad shoulder. "We are just happy he is alive and standing here. But I think we should talk about this event instead of unusual rumors."

I like the idea that basically everyone in Gotham knows that Jason Todd is alive. However no one can agree on how. Did he fake his death? Is it the Mandela effect? Did an alternate universe Jason show up and the Wayne family is just ok ™ with it? Is Jason just a zombie or smthn? No one in Gotham is sure but he’s at galas and shit and is photographed for the papers so no one’s gonna question it.

[boofeine]

So interesting on how seventeen gets jealous.

Hehe, able to do a drabble for mingyu jealous based on it?❤️😬🫶🏽

(sorry for taking so long... again 😅)

WARNINGS: mdni, angst,,, unrevised work !!!

"I'm gonna take a shower" Mingyu says while you finish to let your shoes by the door and lock it as you both enter your apartment.

That's not an uncommon saying or action from him, but you know when you just know something is off? That was the case. He sounded dry for some reason and didn't even spare a glance as the first thing he does it's walk to the shower.

You're letting your things by the kitchen corner, taking some things out of your purse when you hear the water running. You feel uneasy and contemplate if you should dare join him or just wait to talk when he comes out.

'Fuck it' you think, walking to the bathroom door, jeans already being undone and shirt getting lose. You knock and no response.

"Gyu? Can i come in?" You speak through the door, waiting a few seconds before opening the frame "Gyu?" you ask again, slipping your head inside. The room is starting to get foggy, but you are still able to see the outline of his naked torso as the water runs down from his neck to his chest, enough to gather you courage to come in.

You finish taking your clothes off and join him. He slowly opens his eyes, meeting down on your small form as you smile foundly but whimsy.

"Hi" You murmur.

"Hi" He answers, dry again. Opening you space to take the water instead. He leads you and changes your positions with a hand on your hips. Even looking as something wrong happened, he stills the sweetest to you.

When you wet yourself enough, you look back, and he has shampoo on his hair. You change positions again, and he starts to clean it off. You tiptoe, getting closer to reach his long hair hair too, helping him out. Your hands are soft and caring as you caress his hair. Mingyu is just looking at you, the same way you are looking at him, but he has a sad look and pouty lips.

You pull him, soap on your hands as you start to spread on him, his shoulders first, and then down his chest and belly.

"When you're gonna tell me what's wrong" You say while on it.

He helps you, spreading the soap on his arms as he thinks what to say. After a while, he shoots "I saw that guy hitting on you earlier". Your lips form a thin line. Somehow, you want to smile, but he hasn't finished yet. "And still, you stay most of the night of his group of friends".

It's true, you think. Now that he said that to you, you can understand where it comes from. Yes, the guy did hit on you, but you said no, and also add that you are taken. His group of friends are your friend's friends, and the only people (that you slightly know) that were dancing, and you wanted to dance, so you stuck to them.

"You should've tell me" you said, getting a bit sad too. The sudden silence gets you itchy and you can see Mingyu swallowing dry.

"You looked so happy. I wouldn't bother your fun." He adds, confessing it. And some of it makes him embarrassed and bothered that you were having so much fun without him. But he won't tell you that.

"You don't bother me, Mingyu" You reply seriously, stopping on your tracks to look back on him. "I wanted to dance, and they were the people I knew" you add "I want you to tell me when you're uncomfortable" you say lastly, and you suddenly want to cry because you're afraid he didn't have fun like you did, and you feel bad for have not done anything.

"Okay" he says smally and low.

Silence again.

"Turn around" you said, as you start to clean his back down to his hips, but also to hide how a few tears fall down. You clean than off and finish "I'm sorry" You add when he starts to turn back to face you again.

"Please, don't be!" He answers way too fast that startles you, cutting your words "Please don't ever apologize for having fun. I am sorry" he says, and you nod because he's right, but still, he can't just put aside what he feels either, you think that just what jealousy is.

You tiptoe again, caging him on your arms instead as he touches you for the first time, sliding his hands to your hips and resting on your lower back that let shivers down your skin. Your faces are close, nose slightly touching.

"I love you" You say, your hot breath on his lips making his mouth open in an almost gasp.

"I love you too" He adds before finally kissing you, raw and needy like he was craving it.

[ohithankyou]

speaking about buck and tommy scenes that make me feel like i’m intruding in on a moment that should be reserved for the two of them and the two of them only — this scene is kind of fucking insane when it comes to that.

it’s not even a full scene but a brief moment (less than a minute) within a larger scene and yet. and YET. it’s SO captivating and memorable.

they’re not alone but as the viewer, it really feels like they’re the only two people in the room (probably how they felt as well let’s be real) with how they talk, look, and flirt with each other and in the way they exist in each other’s space (buck basically pinning tommy on one side, no space between them….AH. god i LOVE when their physical space becomes one).

and buck always has a little cheeky flare in his flirting but here it’s even more special and present because he teases tommy a little with his, “oh, i’m sorry, did you want the red one?” which, to me, really translates to a teasing cheeky, “oh, are you looking at me? huh? are you obsessed,” and tommy replies (with his dorky old-school romantic compliment because yeah. of course he does. his evan deserves the best), “has anyone ever told you, you’re a vision in a cone,” which is essentially, “yeah. i am looking at you. you’re beautiful. a vision.” and of course that leaves buck smitten as fuck, because why wouldn’t it? insane compliment to get and for tommy, giving that compliment was as natural and second nature as breathing. his boyfriend is a vision and tommy’s just happy he gets to look at him in the way he does—admire his beauty, etc.

AND not to forget, as tommy’s complimenting buck, he’s also eye-fucking him with the most intense gaze. it doesn’t last very long before tommy (and then buck) break(s) out into a smile and laugh (i think tommy remembered they were, indeed, not alone and needed to diffuse the intensity, make it more wholesome again otherwise….you know). but those brief few seconds where tommy’s piercing eye contact is burning through buck and buck is heavy breathing harder than he almost ever has were so incredibly charged and passionate that i felt like i shouldn’t have been there watching them. which, really, the whole moment felt like i shouldn’t have been there — during the wholesome and sweet portion (which the whole thing was wholesome and sweet, really) and during the more brief, intense moment between them.

it’s just such a great moment, even (or especially) for as brief as it is in the grand scheme of their story. but it shows us how their dynamic grew from season seven and it has a little bit of everything to offer: it’s playful, sweet, heated, charged, fun, wholesome, romantic—so so romantic imo. we get to see them so close together physically and we get to see a different dynamic to their flirting from their previous moments. it’s also a scene where we get to see more of tommy and his flirting (he initiates the flirting here unlike in moments when it’s buck who does)—and i love that.

just a really beautiful scene in my opinion and even though i feel like i’m intruding when i watch it, i will keep rewatching it.

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Old enemies and spilled coffee pt.4"

Or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt 4"

Shadow the hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I know I´m taking my time to actually make Shadow, well, do something, but we are right there, I swear. As always, if you want to be on the taglist leave a comment, and if you just want to leave a comment I don´t mind either.

Btw, idk if this is obvious but I am NOT proofreading anything of what I'm writing. Enjoy!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

You had already taken your alien-ish friend out of the box and laid it down on your bed so that it would be more comfortable. Once again you had doubted yourself over how comfortable it could possibly be, but as long as it couldn´t act in a way that showed uncomformity then it would have to deal with what it was given.

You had agreed to have lunch at your uncle´s house the next day. But in the meantime you had texted your aunt Maddie to ask her to come over to the house you were staying in under the pretense that you would share some pastries and talk about life for a while.

And so you sat on the couch waiting for time to pass and hoping that Maddie would be there soon. And, just like an angel sent from heaven, the doorbell rang and you sprinted to open the door.

On the other side awaited your lovely aunt with a huge smile on her face which reflected your own excitement. Hugs that lasted a little more than necessary and greetings were exchanged, you invited her inside and prepared tea, all while she talked about how much you had grown, how much she had missed you, etc.

"So how´s life? Any cute work friend I should know about or something?" Of course that would be between the questions, it was an aunt´s classic.

"No, everything has been rather boring actually, I mean, I was working at the salon back at home last month because they were short on staff, but truthfully? The gossip was the only entretaining part" You answered as you stirred your coffee, she had chosen chamomille tea.

"Uhhh, does that mean you can braid my hair now?" She asked with a smile as she sipped her tea and proceded to add more sugar to it.

That was one of the reasons you loved Maddie so much (not the sugar part) but the fact that she never juged your style of working, you were a freelance artist, so all the time you weren´t actively working on a project you would spend doing some minor jobs. Usually people would be all over you telling you to ´get a real job´ or stuff like that, but never Maddie, she was your ride or die, you could tell her that you were gonna climb the Everest and she would cheer you from the bottom.

That was why it came so handy that she was a vet. She probably wouldn´t even question the fact that you had brought a weirdly shaped animal all the way across the state. She trusted you, and you trusted her.

"Maddie, there´s something you should know, and I need you to remain calm and trust me, okay?"

She looked at you for a few seconds, her expression getting serious, and as she looked you dead into your eyes she asked softly:

"Is it that you are gay?"

"What! No!"

"OH, sorry, I thought this was like you getting out of the closet or..."

"No, I didn´t mean that I´m not gay, that was not what I was going to tell you!"

"Wait, so you are gay then?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, I just thought that was the topic we were discussing"

At some point between the exchange you both had broken into laughter, and somehow half of your coffe laid then spilled onto the table.

"I-I am so confused hahaha" she tried to speak in between laughs, but you could see how she was struggling to breathe, laugh and talk at the same time.

While still in your happy state you cleaned up the coffee puddle with a rag and took in a few breaths to relax. Once there was air in your lungs once more, and she had calmed down as well, you continued.

"I brought an... animal with me from home, and it kind of seems to be in like a coma? I would appreciate it if you took a look at it." You explained.

"You brought an animal in a coma all the way to Green Hill? That could be very dangerous for it" She scolded you slightly as she got up from her seat to follow you to the bedroom.

"I know, but it´s like nothing I had ever seen before, and I only trust you for this"

"Does this have something to do with your mother not letting you keep pets? Because you are an adult, you can have pets if you take care of them"

You stood in front of the door and looked at her a little bit as if she had lost her mind.

"No, that´s not it, but you have to promise that you won´t say a word to nobody"

She answered an "I promise" under her breath and you opened the door slowly, allowing her into the room. Maddie didn´t scream, neither did she look back at you as she entered the room. You stayed a little behind, just waiting for some type of reaction.

Maybe if you had been by her side you would have seen the way she frowned, as every little detail on the creature in front of her fell in place perfectly with the description that Sonic, her son, had given her about the hedghog who tried to kill her husband.

She knew it was a dangerous being, but laying down on that bed among the fluffy pillows he just looked... so calm.

Silence reigned the room for a few moments, and for some reason you felt that as if the air had become thick. She approached Shadow and lifted his limbs one by one, making sure that none of his bones were broken, even squeezing a little harder than necesary. And then, Maddie turned around with a smile, walked up to you, ruffled your hair, told you that it was unlikely that the thing would be asleep for longer than three days and left with the excuse of having to buy groceries.

And so, after the sound of the front door closing, as you were looking the way your aunt had left you were once more on your own.

And, if you hadn´t turned back around, you would have probably missed the sight of red eyes fluttering open.

Taglist: @boogiemansbitch @vxllys @whoisgami @baby-bloos @sapphireravensworld

[dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes]

A/N: I need more of these stories. I think I’ve only read one similar and I can’t find the damn thing. I don’t know why but I love the idea of a healthy Logan with a pudgy tummy.

A/N2: I don’t know why I’m writing this but I am. If you want me to write more, you gotta tell me either comment or tell me in a reblog.

Wade and Logan share the pull out couch since Logan moved in, and Logan is laying on his back with his eyes closed while Wade is on his side looking at the wall. Neon light coming in from outside and Wade notices Logan’s stomach. He’s pudgy. He stares at it and Logan just feels him.

“What, Wade?”

Wade flinches. “What?” He tries to act groggy. “What?”

“Bub, I can hear you breathe. You ain’t been asleep,” he grouses, keeping his eyes closed.

Wade decides to take a leap. “Can I…can we cuddle?”

Logan turns and looks at him. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just, uh…Nevermind.” Wade rolls over to the other side, faced away. He can feel his face flush, embarrassed.

“Hey,” Logan coos and places his warm hand on Wade’s bicep.

Wade doesn’t respond.

“Yeah, kid, we can cuddle. Come ‘ere.” Logan opens his arms and Wade rolls right into them, nonchalantly bringing his hand down to partially cup Logan’s healthy pudgy tummy. He works to hide his smile, breathing in and out heavily, and he works to relax against the Wolverine. He mentally high fives himself for taking such good care of his Wolverine—three healthy meals a day, snacks, cutting down on the alcohol, taking him for walks, spending time and playing with him (AKA fighting and blood shed). Wade is just so happy.

Logan notices Wade’s scent quickly changes to a lighter, sweeter smell that somehow makes Wade’s natural scent more intense but not overwhelming. He has to stifle a purr with a cough.

“Need a glass of water, peanut?” Wade asks, quietly.

“Nah, I’m good. Sleep.” Logan turns into Wade, wrapping both arms around him. Wade sets one hand on Logan’s side, rubbing his thumb firmly but lightly against the side of Logan’s stomach. Logan finds it amusing.

When he wakes with the sun like always, he finds Wade and him are tangled up together, and for the first time, it doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t know why. He goes back to sleep, his nose buried against Wade’s bald head with Wade’s head on Logan’s shoulder.

This occurs again and again over the next few weeks where Wade just asks every couple of days to cuddle and when Logan who agrees, Wade just smells wonderful—just his happy self (not that Wade knows this; Logan doesn’t want to embarrass him).

One evening an hour or two after dinner, Logan is slouched on the couch as he watches The Golden Girls. Wade decides to try his chances and lays on the couch, putting his head on Logan’s stomach. Logan tenses, looking down at Wade who just looks at the tv. It is a long moment before Wade decides to break the tension. He turns slightly, looking at Logan. “This okay?”

Logan silently nods and rests his hand on Wade’s bicep while he drinks his beer and keeps watching the tv show.

Logan moving in with Wade and gaining weight because not only is he eating three square meals a day, but he also picked up baking because both Al and Wade have a sweet tooth, and of course the sweets are there, he’s going to eat them too. But now he’s getting kind of chubby. Which isn’t a problem really. He looks healthier than he has in decades. Except…

Wade stopped flirting with him. Straight up just stopped. And yeah Logan’s been ignoring it right along because he knows Wade isn’t actually serious about it, but it was still kind of nice to be wanted. Especially since he came from a reality where he was literally the most hated man alive. And of course now he has actual feelings for Wade, he wants the option to be there.

So he decides to not only start going to the gym but also to stop eating. And of course Wade notices and has to sit him down and ask what’s up, he’s been super healthy lately why is he changing that

And Logan can’t admit why he’s doing it so he deflects. “So going to the gym isn’t healthy?”

“You practically live there now. You’re a certified gym rat. You’re overworked and underfed. THAT isn’t healthy.”

And they go back and forth until Logan finally admits it’s because he gained weight and doesn’t feel attractive anymore. “Hell, you don’t even flirt with me anymore and I’ve seen you hit on inanimate objects before.”

And Wade stares at him for like 10 full seconds before he busts out laughing, like genuinely knee slapping chuckle fest because, “You think I stopped flirting with you because I’m shallow??? You honestly think I look like a burn victims even uglier ball sack and I’m being picky with how someone else looks?”

Logan tries to shrug it off with a “Everyone has preferences.”

“Trust me, Peanut, it isn’t that.”

“So then what is it?”

And now it’s Wade’s turn to be defensive until he realizes their conversation is just going in circles and Logan won’t stop destroying his body until he comes clean. So he has to stare at the wall as he tells Logan that it isn’t that he’s not attracted to Logan’s body anymore, it’s that he’s hyper attracted to it now, that he looks so healthy, so well fed, so inadvertently loved, and that it’s a reminder of all the domesticity of their situation that he’s actually fallen in love and can’t trust himself to casually flirt with Logan anymore because he’s genuinely afraid he’s going to do something and ruin their friendship now.

And they make out sloppy style and confess their love to each other of course

[yojeongin]

playing dangerous | k.dy

→bff’s stepdad!doyoung x f!reader

genre: smut, semi-angst, some fluff, forbidden affair, semi-character study

synopsis: summers are meant to be spent having fun with your best friend not fooling around with her step father.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! cheating, age gap (not focused between mcs), yearning, power imbalance, massive frued psychosexual theory undertones (that old man won), morally grey characters, alluding to cycle of predation and abuse of power, manipulation, lowkey ageism, doyoung heavy mommy issues (worrying actually), oral (m receiving), cum kiss, fingering, foot play, unprotected sex, creampie, voyeurism.

wc: 15.8k || anthology masterlist || soundtrack || ao3

© 2025 YOJEONGIN all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works on other platforms. reblogs are HIGHLY appreciated and preferred!

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are only characters. read at your own discretion.

an: sorry this took longer than expected, im 3hrs late oops. the corporate lifestyle has been kicking my ass so bad (im so fucking miserable) and i wasn't satisfied with what i was going to post last week anyway so hope this is better (hope).

“Are you sure that’s your step dad and not step brother?”

Disbelief was too soft of a word for what you truly thought. When your friend had given you notice that her mother had married her boyfriend of two years (news to you), you had expected the man to be decrepit and gray haired. Not someone not too much older than what you were. 

Earlier you had confused him with one of the movers who helped bring in your friend’s and her mother’s items into the new home. You went as far as shooting him a flirty smile while making way to your friend who sat peacefully on the porch swing with a glass of cold lemonade to aid her from this horrid summer heat. 

“Yeah…“ she whines, throwing her head back enough to hit herself a tad with the backrest. “He makes her happy. As long as he does, I don’t care how old he is.” She felt judged by your constant questioning. As if she was the one marrying the man. As if she was living through her mother and her decisions to wed someone significantly younger than her. You were the last person she wanted to feel judged by, however could they truly blame your incessant curiosity and shock? Specifically when you never knew her mother was dating. What kind of best friend are you to not be as close as you believed?

Meghan wasn’t the youngest, the woman was sixty and this man looked to be in his late twenties. How could they blame you for your curiosity? 

“So how old is he?” You shift beside her, the swing rocking with every move. “He turned thirty in February. She hasn’t had a partner since I can remember, this is good for her.” Her words attempt to convince her more than you, emphasized by the harsh desperate slurping within the empty glass.

Your friend turned 25 in February too.

“Oh wow, so since he was a kid too?” You joke. It doesn’t land.

“Y/n!” She hits your arm, you laugh in return. “What?!” You whine through laughs, this time purposely rocking the swing. “Come on…” It aches like nails on a chalkboard if she thinks about it. Meghan is her mother, she could easily be Doyoung’s mother as well. She knew Doyoung's mother.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She sighs, hands and glass on her lap. “Yes, the age gap is insane but… they’re old enough.” Your friend frowns, another attempt to convince herself and failing miserably.

Raising your hands in defeat, she smiles, continuing her playful acts of harm. “Want a glass?” She offers, you decline, your mind stuck on the beautiful man standing roughly a few feet away from where you two sat. Your head struggles to not turn his way and gawk like you’ve done earlier. It's difficult, you'll find throughout these months.

You knew you shouldn’t be fawning the way you are. After all, he is now Meghan’s husband. Meghan who has treated you like her own child since Pre-K. But God, you couldn’t help admire the way sweat rolled down his face and the way he wiped it away with the back of his delicate hands. 

At this moment, you’re not too bitter about your summer plans being halted. Not when he’s noticed your covetous glances and sly grins. Perhaps that's what started it all. Your restraint, pulling him step by step to where you sat. Sweat adorning his face and forcing his hair to frame his beautiful features, glistening in this sun.

A tender smile to the public eye but a reciprocative grin to you, “Welcome girls.” He smiles, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to pick you up from the airport.” He turns halfway to look at the movers entering the home. “Duty calls.”

He was cliche with his words, yet smooth enough to make your grin widen. Like a white collar in those vintage Hollywood movies. His voice, softer than imagined. He drew you in the same way you drew him. It was bound to happen.

Tina shook her head, a dismissive and polite smile. She covers her eyes from the sun which did not ambush either. Rather, it was a futile attempt to shield her emotions, easily projected onto her eyes. It’s not resentment she felt towards him. Discomfort and confusion for his decisions is.

Doyoung looks at you briefly, as if to say “I suppose we are not there yet?”, answered by your own polite smile. He dismissed it immediately, shaking his head with a slight chuckle which forced Tina to uncover her eyes, confused.

“Will you be a dear and get me a drink?” He asks when their eyes finally meet. If it means that he won’t read her any longer, Tina nods standing up. She’s out of the picture faster than he had asked without a care that Doyoung took her spot next to you. 

Doyoung smiles your way, his knee bumping into yours while he settles. You return the smile, looking at the contact. Your legs criss-crossed on the swing and his rocking you both. It’s silent besides the movers and Meghan’s music inside the home. Nevertheless, this feels comfortable, scarily so for a first-time meeting.

“I’m sorry for being the reason you two had to cancel your trip.” Doyoung leans over, elbows on his thighs. His back is on full display, wet shirt clinging to the wide muscles that force your lower lip in between your upper teeth.

Your eyes don’t unglue from him, chills running across your body for such a warm day. You sigh, following a streak and bead of sweat from his temple down to his neck. “It's fine, we didn't want to walk around for hours and see old buildings.” You reassure sarcastically, although the tone deadpans.

“No? But Italy is very beauteous. Meghan recounted, you two had been planning on it as an incentive to get through grad school. I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Doyoung did not expect to be met with laughter. He was soft spoken, tender, genuinely sorrowful, and a welcoming host. Why must you laugh at him? He’s not too sure.

His quizzical look does not subside, “I was joking, Mr. Kim.” You giggle, wiping at your threatening tears. His eyebrows furrow, yet, folds his handkerchief to a clean corner, doing the task for you. He's so close. So comfortable with being this near to a complete stranger.

“You’re narrowly five years younger than I. Please don't call me that.” He defends petulantly, forgetting about what brought you both to this topic. It sounds insane and dumb to be called that as if he was his father or an old man, he was only thirty.

It is insane and so is marrying a woman who was his current age when he was born.

You hum a response, turning away from him with a slow nod. “Do you always talk like that?” Your voice lures him again, craning his head to look at you. “Like you’re a pretentious liberal arts professor.” It’s lighthearted and mocking at the same time. Your smile slowly forms and he mirrors it.

“My father is a professor. Not for the liberal arts though but perhaps it rubbed off.” “Perhaps.”

He laughs softly in light of your continuing mockery, “Y/n, correct? I fear I haven’t properly introduced myself.” Doyoung shifts in his spot, his body facing you. He extends his hand and you take it. His fingers are nimble and long, his palms clammy but soft, and his grasp is strong but delicate against your own. 

Your smile doesn’t falter, thumb caressing his knuckles, an act he replicates against your own. “Yes… beautiful house by the way. What do you do for a living?" You ask curiously, met by a scolding shriek when Tina and Meghan come out with glasses of lemonade, something you did not want. Lemonade and their interruption, it's interchangeable.

"Y/n those things are not asked!" Meghan scolds, handing Doyoung his glass. He laughs, shaking his head while taking a sip. You watch some of it slip from the corner of his lip. He is such an unfortunate person when it comes to liquids, it seems. Regardless, you wondered what it would be like to clean it off of him…

Someone cleanse you of these thoughts, this is forbidden grounds.

"Why not?" You ask confusedly, looking at the components inside the cup. Nothing but murky pulp-filled sweet water. Your emotions present on your face, perceived wrongly by the only man there who felt it was your response to being scolded. "It's completely fine to ask that now, don't worry." Meghan shoots him a look, irksome at the use of 'now'. She doesn't have to wonder what he meant, only in dissecting his tone.

"I'm an aerodynamicist. Right now we're working on finding a solution to reduce the consumption of fuel." His voice is a pitch higher, tossing that pretentious tone to his words, forgetting his drink while fully turning to everyone as he excitedly gets into the topic. "The main culprit —or so we think— is the wings… let's say the wings of an aircraft. Their shape to be specific contributes to th—" Before he could finish, Meghan hums interrupting. Her words later followed, "Yeah, yeah, sounds fun. Dinner is ready so it's best we stop the chit-chat if we want something warm to eat."

Both you and Tina turn to her mother, a quick glance full of judgment and some surprise. She's never interrupted any of you when passionately speaking about your interests, this was new. Tina doesn't dare look at Doyoung though, she simply walks back inside with her still full drink in hand. Meghan on the other hand waits for him to stand up and follow her. His shoulders slumped and head low, a reassuring smile thrown your way but his dull eyes say otherwise.

"We're glad to have you girls here." Doyoung utters with a nod, turning to follow his wife. "Welcome." The only thing that leaves Meghan's lips. At the time it sounded like that, a welcoming. Now you realize she was responding to the expected devout gratitude for taking you in all those years ago and even now.

What a way to introduce their relationship to you. What a way to cement the reality of the dynamics between all.

There was a foreign air after that fateful day, something you had never expected when it came to spending time with your best friend and her mother. This was stuffy and suffocating. You chopped it to the different location, you will soon find it's the repressed feelings of everyone in this house and of those that lived before.

Meghan tried her best to not show her unwillingness towards her husband, yet it was evident to all that she held animosity for some odd reason. No amount of smiles and reassuring pats could tell any of you otherwise but they satiated him and no one would interfere with that.

Doyoung was doting and sweet. He immersed in conversations to learn more about his guests and later rewarded them with things mentioned in passing. This was his way of showing his affection. It became paternal in a way that you didn't like and in a way that made Tina uncomfortable but which she could understand. Odd, extremely so, considering he could easily be her brother. If she was to voice her dilemmas, Doyoung would fully understand. Yet like you've told her before: "If you don't speak, God won't hear you."

To you, Doyoung was yet another guy that could have been in your college classes. He made sure to act like it when he finally got comfortable and that resulted in joking and lax conversations about his interests and yours, similar to the first day. Giggles and lingering touches, too close at times for two strangers. This way he felt young and correct again.

The downside came the following day, going back to that paternal and reserved front as if he was the same age as his wife and not what he portrayed with you. Treating you and Tina like kids and that's what you both loathed about his time with Meghan. She only seemed to suck the life out of him when night fell.

Doyoung pandered to her and was at her feet with anything she asked, yet she still patronized him and shut him down when he spoke of his career and parents. Meghan never outright spoke of it but she loathed when he brought up his parents. She hated the house, the basement, the attic, the garden, and the greenhouse. She hated that damn greenhouse more than anything.

You couldn't understand where her feelings stood. She had a family, a complete family. A loving and providing husband, a daughter that would always be there for her, and an established and stable home that was all hers for the time being. What more could she ask for?

Despite Meghan's and Tina's inability to feel at home, you found yourself to fit right in in every groove.

Your bare feet are met with soft dewy kisses from the garden's grass as you sprint inside the house towards Doyoung's study. Leaving a trail of dew on the wooden floorboards. Meghan observes you from the kitchen island, pursed lips and raised glasses as you turn the corner and to the hall where those dark panel mahogany double doors greet you, brightening with every knock.

It takes three rhythmic knocks for him to know it's you. Uttering a 'come in' with a light hum. Instinctively, you smile to yourself, hand turning the now golden door knob. Not feeling the grooves of mosaic crystal and cold copper makes you frown. So does the untouched silver tray of breakfast.

You step over it when making your way inside, closing the door behind you and leaning against the cold wood when he does not turn around. Sunlight peaks through the large glass stained bow windows, his desk perfectly curved to fit into the space. The decor on the windows are your favorite.

The greens and pinks perfectly project onto his skin, making him look diaphanous. The lilies and hummingbird paint a story of near-to-death flowers seeking ailment before they perish and like the knights they are, the hummingbirds come to their aid to bring them back to life. He explained it in the way his father had, revealing his mother to be the hummingbird and his father to be the lilies saved from the misery he was in. That explains the devout love his parents had, manifested all throughout the house and the one Doyoung sought.

He now finds the story to be the other way around with no happily ever after. There's no salvation this time.

When he finally turns, he greets you with a tired smile, shoulders slumped and neck aching. He slept on the chaise lounge. The uncomfortable and awfully warm upholstered leather chaise lounge that's too short for his height. He's been there the entire day after last night's argument with Meghan over her trying to clear out his mother's greenhouse and build a shed for her crafts room. She's not content with the basement and she is not content with him giving you your individual room.

"Found you some critters." You open, his smile widens when you pull out the worn paper bag he gave you to put them in. Walking towards him, he takes it from your hands, nimble fingers gracing your drying ones. "Found these stiff on the tomato pots." You point at the caterpillars. "This butterfly was stuck to the tree trunk. Is it acting or actually dead?" Doyoung lets out a sly hum. "No… it does seem like it's near death, though." taking the butterfly out of the bag.

He looks at it for a moment, noticing the lower wings are damaged but covered by the upper wings. "There… clipped." He gently moves the upper wings with the tweezers. "Rather dramatic if you ask me. She is fine to fly but a little caring should not be bad." He stands from his seat, knees cracking to indicate his lack of movement. He places her in the terrarium, it hops around seeking the flowers you've helped him pick.

It's silent for a moment, he hums a melody while scolding the butterfly as he feeds her sugar water. You sit on his desk chair, swiveling while drumming around the taxidermy scalpels — A few of these have left some scratches on your fingers. He makes sure to lock his items inside his desk drawers, Meghan has explained her disdain and disgust for his hobby and in fear of her digging through and tossing them like she's done with the taxidermy decor, he takes extra precautions.

"Why haven't you eaten?"

Your voice makes him turn, closing the door to the terrarium. He leans against the table, crossing his arms across his chest and taking a grasp of his jaw. Rubbing it as if he was thinking of an answer. He can't lie to you though, he knows you're able to see through his lies. At least surface level, it's the small things he grants you.

"I don't like omelettes. She knows that." He confesses. "I don't like black tea and that is what's on the tray." Your leg raises, feet now dry but stained with that yellow-green hue. Your cheek rests against your bruised knee while taking in his words. He watches all your actions, biting the inside of his cheek as punishment for looking at your limbs.

"Want me to make you anything?" There's some innocence in your voice that warms his chest. Interlaced with your desire to please. Please, please, please.

He smiles fondly, eyes fluttering, and a warm feeling in his chest.

"Don't coddle me." "Generosity."

He slowly approaches you, rearranging the scalpels you played with. He looks down, analyzing you like you were one of his dissected butterflies. Pretty, soft, and delicate. Doyoung knows it's wrong to think of you this way. He's allowed Meghan to fuck the thoughts away from him but they cling to his brain while they're at it. It's vile and disgusting. The act to be precise.

"Is she still upset about the room?" You look up at him, resting against the backrest. He takes a closer look at your outfit. Denim high rise shorts, white lace short strap top, and red ribbon in your hair that he wrapped around the strands a while ago and you never got rid of. The same one he uses to decorate bigger taxidermy species like the squirrels the neighborhood cat leaves laying on the porch. You want to think it's metaphoric but you sound stupid trying to find a connection despite the words lingering in the tip of your tongue. Fresh and clear on his mind.

"I don't mind taking the attic, it's nice and cozy. Your dad did a good job decorating it." A reassuring smile that he does not accept. "What are you, Harry Potter? It's your room and it's my house." That first day during dinner, Doyoung expressed his gratitude to you for being part of their family. It did not pertain to him, he believed family deserved their own space.

His actions worked to ease and win Tina over even if it was a tad but Meghan felt a stabbing sense in her lower stomach and a scratch in her brain that made a whirling dark orb manifest. It's the same feeling that brews the longer she stands behind those mahogany doors hoping to hear what is said but the whispered mutters and her aged ear drums hand no aid.

Doyoung pulls his footstool, taking a seat before you. His hands trickle down to your foot, picking off the remaining blades that stain his own hands. He looks up at you when he reaches for a wipe, the green stains cling when the fabric graces the arch of your sole.

"It tickles." You state, he hums. Fingers press harder. "Better?" You nod. He looks at you during the ministration, putting your foot down delicately to do the same with the other. You watch his every move and he receives your gaze with a smile when he meets it. "My mom would do this when I would run around the garden. She hated when I left stains on the floors. Said they wouldn't come off but when I would go to sleep she painted over the footprints and re-stain the floor." He smiles fondly, warming up your skin from the cold, damp wipe. His fond touch doing most of the job.

"It sounds like a prank that turned into preservation. Maybe she liked seeing your growth. Meghan marked our growth on the walls of her apartment. I'm sure the landlord has painted over them now."

He hums, taking in the comparison. It's cute, nice and nostalgic but it highlights the passage of time and how mortal things seem around you and the other two. How mortal things around him can be too.

Doyoung is doting and sweet. Soft and gentle, immersing himself in his actions to not hurt the other. You envy Meghan, you're sure of it now.

"You should really put shoes on, I can't keep cleaning your feet." "You have no obligation."

He looks at you the way Mary Magdalene did when washing Jesus' feet. He looks at you like his savior and redeemer, you're not sure why or you haven't been able to fully understand him yet.

He nods, his growing finger nails pinching below your toes. You wince, confusedly looking at him. "The critters will recognize your pattern and their missing friends. Don't cry when you're pinched," He playfully scolds the way his parents used to do; voice lowering upon seeing a shadow come from under the doors. "I won't be able to kiss the pain away." He raises your foot, the action new but comforting to your taste. His eyes don't tear away when his plush lips come in contact with your newly cleaned feet. It's soft, warm, sort of wet but nice enough for you to let your hand reach for where he touches.

This is wrong, plentiful wrong but Adam (Doyoung) will drag you to take a bite of that forbidden fruit if he keeps going.

Something ate away at Meghan the longer she stood behind those thick doors. The same way ants crawled around the food she had made him earlier. That made her aching worse and if she didn't open those doors now, she won't remain sane.

She takes a few breaths in, noise seizing to come through, making things far more unsettling. Decidedly, she pushes through, opening both doors dramatically, taking in the image of her husband and faux daughter. Her eyes waver as her voice wants to do. Impotence and defeat.

Nothing.

"Must you punish me?" She directly questions. Her eyes fleeting to your lax position on his chair, recognizing the ribbon from the decor she threw out and his proximity to you. "You can't knock?" He turns his attention back to his craft, as if he had not been kneeling before you seconds prior. "Rehydration solution, Y/n."

With a syringe, he injects it onto the body of the second butterfly while you wet a paper towel, taking a beaker of solution to the other side of the room. You don't speak, following the steps he's taught you in the process.

"It's my house." Meghan states. "It's my house." Doyoung corrects.

The older woman glares. If looks could kill, the house would be hers once and for all.

"The ants are eating your breakfast." "Oh good, they'll stay away from the peonies."

He smiles to himself, Meghan can't see it but she's sure of it and that irks her more. She turns to your moving figure, handing him a warmer solution to pour in the container and put the critters in. Taking in the interaction, her eye spasms. The green stains on his slacks and your clean feet. She has no proof nor a concrete case but she knows it was nothing decent. Disturbed by the bond, she swallows her huff but not the irking orb that eats away her love for you.

"Y/n, give us some alone time." She bites, her words laced with the venom of the centipede he's wrapping around stiff caterpillars. "We're not done with this." He tuts. Meghan, appalled by his opposition, allows her jaw to slack. Her emotions are rampant and fiery that he would contradict her. That he found it in himself to not slouch his shoulders and go along with her decisions.

Your gaze flits between them, their glaring not seizing. The tension is palpable, leading you to fumble the cloth holding onto the piping hot beaker. You know how hot glass can be but when you're the magnetic pull that's causing this, it's something you don't focus on.

Your shriek forces them to break their combat, that motherly look Meghan often had returns when she sees your irritated hand and the way you fall back onto his chair the moment the scalding solution splashes over your bare feet.

They rush towards you, watching their step over the broken pieces of glass. While Meghan attempts to question if you're okay, Doyoung is already in the process of rubbing Silvadene over the light burn of your palm. She watches in amazement how delicate he is. His fingers grace over the skin, if it wasn't stinging you'd repeat that it tickles. And if his wife wasn't here, he'd replicate the image of soothing your aching feet with kisses.

With every passing second, Meghan feels that obscure orb grow and grow. Her motherly instinct is consumed by it, disgusted queries plaguing her heart and soul seeing him sit on the foot stool and place your feet over his lap. This is how the stains on his slacks came to be. His nimble digits rubbing the ointment on noticeable ailments and on spots you pointed at with minute pained whimper that she'll take as pleasure.

This isn't right. Meghan no longer feels like a mother to you. And this is only one of many instances her feelings are reassured.

Doyoung didn’t want to argue any longer in the dark depths of his cold bedroom. It was amazing how quickly his marriage was falling apart in the span of a few weeks when the two shared a beautiful —so he’s forcing himself to think— relationship. Now all he can do is whisper his grievances to his wife who finds it disrespectful that he’s rebutting her own arguments due to his age.

Meghan will never say it out loud but she respects Doyoung less and expects him to treat her like his superior for said gap, forgetting they were in a relationship and should both treat each other accordingly and not like mother-son; disgustingly.

Said argument is what led a tired Doyoung to sigh heavily on his way out of the bedroom in hopes of relaxation by either watching something in the media room or basking in the night’s breeze while sitting on the porch swing with a glass of whiskey on the rocks or an ice cold beer.

The latter makes him smile fondly.

Decidedly, Doyoung pads towards the kitchen, his bare feet absorbing the coldness of the wooden floors, ignoring his scolding after you burnt your feet. The closer he got to the large room, the sound of his padding mellowed out compared to the rummaging of items. For a second he feared they'd gotten an infestation of mice. It would not be the first time the house had any.

His inquiries were disposed of once reaching the kitchen when he saw such a pretty image that made him relax. And similar to the mice he once fended against years ago with his father, you sat in front of the fridge, feasting, with a bottle of whipped cream at hand. Allowing the sweet dairy to fall upon a strawberry that you indelicately shoved into your mouth without a care that its juice spilled from the corner of your lips and the dairy followed behind, creating a light pink ribbon to decorate your pretty lips the way those glosses you often smear do.

It oddly reminds him of the first day you two met. He looks at you the same way you looked at him. Lingering and foreign attraction, although it's not so foreign now.

It's not right, but you're closer and closer to taking a bite out of that apple.

You don't bother cleaning the cream off, continuing to push the berries into your mouth. One after another as your stomach yearns for more. You could’ve continued, although halt at his endeared chuckle. You're startled, feeling a cold sweat wash through your entire body. If there was one thing you hated was people catching you eating late at night. More so when you're filling your aching body with self targeted disgust and sweets. Like a child, the one he treats you as when the other two are near but forgotten about when it's just you two.

This is what holds you back, the apple seems so rotten and further at times.

Doyoung doesn't speak, walking towards you with a napkin in hand, taken on his way. He crouches down to your level, making you break out of that frozen state. “I’m sorry…” you whisper, eyes following his, seeking any reaction. “For what?” He questions sweetly, hand cupping your jaw softly. Shooting you a quick glance and smile before continuing his ministration.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come down to eat in secrecy.” You swallow hard, a lump formed in your throat with his touch, unaware of when. “I know she doesn't like it but usually she comes up to tell me dinner was ready and…” You shrug, meek voice making his chest compress, he senses unwarranted guilt. As if it was your fault his wife kept using food as punishment.

Meghan had told him you were asleep, not that she didn't let you know dinner was ready and that disquiets him. His eyebrows furrow, other hand reaches your face, softly wiping the strawberry juice with his thumb. Licking it beforehand. Doyoung is closer and closer with every passing day. Just last night his touch lingered in between your thigh and knee, you imagine he'll reward you and slip his fingers between your lips soon. Whichever ones and you won't be opposed to it like prior times.

Doyoung gives you a semi-scolding look, “I've told you before. It's my house, you can eat whenever and whatever you want, Y/n." He pats your cheek, pecking it for reassurance. The action startles you every time. They never feel soft and innocent. Always intentional but when he pulls back and gives you a reassuring smile, it forces you to ponder how much you want his generosity to be more than that? It's wrong, you're aware of it, always will be.

His touch lingers a little longer, fleeting stares from your own eyes to lips as his pads waltz across your skin until he finally finds it in himself to let go. “Still hungry?” He asks, helping you up. Ready to deny, your stomach rumbles loudly, giving you no time to privy it of its rights for yet another day. Doyoung simply nods with a smile, cocking his head to the entrance.

“Put your shoes on, let's see what's open at this hour.” “It’s very late to eat a big meal, Mr.Kim…”

The smile on his lips attempts not to falter at what you call him. Doyoung hated it with his entire soul. You weren't going to seize as long as he didn't seize treating you like Tina, like you're his stepdaughter too. Although, in this instant it's punishment for making you feel so ill and needy.

You want more, you crave more, but you can't have more.

It's odd to you how both can easily bask in the delicacy of tense intimacy and this… disgusting forced idea of a familial relationship at times. Especially when they would intertwine like it is now. You hate him for it sometimes. 'Coward' is what bounces in your head often when his touch lingers just to treat you like he treats Tina when his sick brain tells him to.

Regardless, Doyoung doesn't get to respond or scold, his bedroom door slams and Meghan has reached the kitchen watching as he crouches over you. She sees the dirtied napkin and your red lips. She sees his hand ghosting over your cheek and the (bitter) smile he had falters when his eyes land on her. While with you it was full of fondness and amusement (she believes), disgust greets her. She's been aware of it for a while now.

"Y/n go to your room." She demands lowly, her hands clinging to her sleeping pants. "No." Doyoung interferes, and like that day in his study, Meghan glares at him, offended by his insistence on speaking back to her like a child disrespecting their elders. "Go to sleep." She grits out, turning to you. You stand up, keeping a distance from Doyoung who immediately speaks. "Go put your shoes on, let's go get you something to eat."

Meghan's lips fall ajar. A scoff and slight cackle hearing his words and the soft look he shoots you. "Are you fucking serious right now?" She asks infuriated, walking closer and slapping his hand off of your arm which aided in stabilizing you when getting up.

"She's hungry, Meghan." Doyoung spits back, disgust building in his gaze. His wife shoots him a response with hers, almost saying "That's not my concern." but the words don't leave her for she knows it will push things further. It's futile, Doyoung scowls and his head slowly shakes the longer he looks at her. There it is, that disgust once again and it eats away at her.

"You told me she was asleep. I didn't take you for someone gluttonous." Meghan could only describe the brewing feeling as embarrassment and pure seething rage. Who did Doyoung think he was to confront her like this? Implication full of disgust and hitting her where he knew it hurt. More so in front of the one causing all the problems. With your faux naivety and innocent looks. With that cunning smile you shoot her when around him. Meghan knows what you are, she knows what men like and she's experiencing it before her eyes. Men are weak.

If you were to peak inside her head and heart, that obscure growing orb was nothing but rotting tar.

"Don't be insolent. Don't bring that up in front of her!" She spits out, "Y/n go to your room!" Disturbed by being undermined by two people she deemed lesser than her. Doyoung attempts to stop you again, his grip a bit harsher than before. You look at where his hand is. This is familiar, revoltingly so. You feel like a child in the middle of their parents' argument. Getting pulled left and right until they tear you apart stitch by stitch. It's painful in all senses and when Meghan opens her mouth to yell at her husband, you screw your eyes, shaking your head and freeing yourself from his grasp.

"I'll go. I'll go… I'll go. Please." You repeat like a mantra, hoping your words will make it all end. The latter begging them to not include you, to leave you alone and forget that your existence is brewing something between them.

You always wonder how Tina is able to sleep through this and not wake up from their screaming. They no longer attempt to hide the potency of their vocal chords nor their words. You know they talk about you when the muffled voices take over or when Doyoung tells her to lower her voice while she laughs maliciously about how much of a vile, disgusting, and infelicitous asshole he is. Otherwise, you know their problems stem from their joint resentment about the power dynamics.

When two people want the same thing at the same time, things are bound to burn over.

Doyoung didn't take long to walk out after she called him those names again. Throwing in his face that he's a pretentious brat with nothing worth fighting for. Meghan has found going against his upbringing to be successful in debilitating him. The only downside is that he loathes her more and more and respects her as much as she does him. Very little to null.

Sleep fleets away. Fear floods you with the idea that Meghan was capable of barging into your room any second now and reproach you for ruining her marriage. She doesn't tell you directly and neither do the other two in the house but her demeanor change is more than clear. Her warm smiles are officially gone, cold and resentful glares replace them. And she no longer cares that they call her out for ignoring you.

Her hugs are foreign to you and her food no longer is edible. That love she once poured into her meals is gone with her motherly instincts. It aches, horribly so. You've known her and Tina since you began your academic career. When your parents couldn't pick you up or take you to school, Meghan was there. Summers were spent with them like this one with the exception that they were the happiest memories.

You have Tina, you know that. She's your sister. Although, you would prefer to not see her argue with her mother about you or see them give each other the cold shoulder after. You don't want her relationship with her mother to worsen, that's the last thing you want but you can't control what people feel. You're aware of that, Meghan isn't.

It's 1:00AM when sleep finally comes back to you and you feel safe enough. The comforter brings you the warmth you're lacking but isn't able to fill your chest. Soft lamentable sighs have left your lips all night over how horrid this summer has turned.

A part of you blames Doyoung. His addition has ruined the balance the three of you had. His cowardice of accepting Meghan's punches and seeking her motherly care during those years blinded him of the bigger picture — it's quite obvious now, confirmation is all you needed.

The other part of you accepts that Meghan is a decrepit insecure woman who seeks power and control of anyone that isn't her and that fills you with both anger and hurt, feeling no immense remorse for threading around Doyoung the way you do. You're allowed to indulge yourself from time to time.

Meghan wants puppets, not family.

Immersed in your pity and vexation, you don't notice when your bedroom window opens. The latch closing is what makes you turn around startled. A dark figure creeping through the shadows, tall and slim. Fright replaces the sleep you felt, manifested in an attempt to scream until your mouth is hastily covered with warm clammy hands that you instantly recognize by the bony nimble fingers. Doyoung.

A finger to his lips, shushes you, he sits on the corner of your bed. You swallow, your head spinning and light front the freight he just caused you. When you relax, you shake your head with a silent laugh. "You scared me," 'Asshole' silently balanced on your tongue. "For a second you made me believe Nosferatu was real." You joke, "But that would mean an old hag has been haunting me for ages, and I just met you." He pats your cheek almost condescendingly without saying sorry but meaning it. At least you think he's sorry.

"Here." He smiles — the most he does to entertain you—, handing you a bag you hadn't noticed earlier. That may explain the sweet smell of warm blueberries waltzing through the room to sedate you and make you more receptive to what he offers. "You didn't have to." You protest, he meets it with a shake of his head and raises a hand letting you know to just be quiet and take it. He does it with a smile on his face and it irritates you but it's also very beautiful that you oblige. "Thank you." You croon, a smile involuntarily creeping on your face. He responds to your words with a caress of your cheek.

"I've told you to not call me Mr. Kim before, haven't I?" His words slow down your movement, smile faltering. "Is that not your name?" You quip, giving him a quick glance while cutting the waffle into squares. It's warm and soft, as he is. Unfortunately if it's left in the open for too long, it will harden and rot. As he will.

There's some tenderness in his gaze, muddled with the same irascibility Meghan looks at him with when he talks back to subvert her. It makes your eyebrows furrow while you slowly chew, it's an odd feeling. Unfortunately for you, he's smart enough to read a person and divert the conversation. It so happens to be that he doesn't do it with Meghan anymore because he enjoys seeing her peeved and red.

He's become so cynical. The things marriage does to you.

"Regardless, please don't call me that, you make me feel old." "You are old." Your teasing makes him gasp, jaw slack with semi-offense before ruffling your hair, destroying the braid. You laugh at his actions, successfully forgetting his earlier look.

"I'm only five years older than you!" He whisper-yells, offense still imprinted onto his being. "Then don't treat me like you're much older." Spoken in between laughs, your words do settle in his mind. Doyoung knows this happens often, it disgusts him but at the same time it keeps him morally sane.

Yes, he touches you more than he should. But he balances it out by indulging your childish attributes that make you act bubbly and younger around him.

Yes, he looks at you with rapidly growing attraction and lust. But he balances it by teaching you step by step on how to maintain perfectly taxidermied insects the way paternal figures do.

He understands and feels that underlying disgust. It's self-punishment for thinking about you when he is married despite loathing the woman. His attraction to you is punishment for that alone.

He should still remain a good man. He is a good man.

Until he learns to enjoy the power trip. He can somewhat understand his wife for that.

Coward.

His smile begins to lose its intensity, nodding while getting comfortable on your bed. He's receptive when you feed him squares here and there, making sure to look directly in your eyes when he takes them into his mouth. Lips wrapping around the black plastic fork and lapping at the syrup hiding between the backside grooves just to watch you immediately replicate his actions. It's a soothing dance, ego indulgent to know you take what he gives.

"Listen," You feed him again. "I'm sorry for earlier." He covers his mouth, "For continuing to put you in those situations, truly sorry." His hand goes up to his chest, his wedding band is gone, causing a warm feeling to brew in your stomach, manifested as an involuntary smile on your lips.

You shrug, nonchalantly as if it didn't matter when you knew it did. "Not my first rodeo." You mutter, feeding him the last bit before placing the tray on the nightstand. He looks at you, taking in your reactions and the stuck sigh that you finally release when he doesn't prod.

You never spoke of your own family. It was always Meghan and Tina this, Meghan and Tina that. At the beginning he wondered if they would be preoccupied knowing you were here, meeting a stranger despite being in safe hands. Yet after a month he noticed the conflicting projected emotions on your face when he spoke about his parents and how loving to each other they've always been. He could tell admiration and resentment were bigger emotions you carried. Now it does not surprise him that you're saying this. More so, it's confirmation.

"How did you even meet her, by the way? I just can't think of a scenario where you'd meet a woman like Meghan."

Curiosity and petulance lace your voice. He smiles to himself, taking your hand into his, reassured he was taking the right steps when you reluctantly relax against his touch. "My mom grew up in a house with four brothers. She always felt the need to prove she was as important as them. You know, rough housing, sports, academics, that sort of thing." He shrugs, "Futile because my grandparents loved and supported her no matter what she did. There truly was no difference in their treatment of the five — very progressive, they were. Kind of holistic— she simply made that rivalry up in her head."

You'd ask what any of this had to do with your question, but Doyoung likes to speak, he likes to speak about his parents. Even if it was a simple redaction.

"So she spent her entire life doing things that would put her far away from those related to housewives. Never learned how to cook, clean, gardening was her only token but that's because she was a botanist. My dad did everything else." He laughs, fond memories of seeing his dad in frilly aprons and pink mittens. He chose them, all the decor was his pick. Doyoung only ever lets you use them when you're in the kitchen.

"This was ten years ago, I was visiting them from college for the summer when I found she had created a crafts room out of this room." His free hand points around the walls of your room, wallpaper in a quilt design explaining it all. "She said she was too old to not know basic things like mending a hole in dad's socks or helping him with dinner. That he was getting old and weak too, it was a job for two to get anything out of the oven."

He hums, gaze on your interlocked hands. "So I drove her daily to these classes at the community center. That's when I first met Meghan, she was there to teach the classes. Nothing went past pleasantries and my mom joking about how I'd look good with Tina."

Selfish you are for letting vile manifest and spread through your chest when hearing those words. Tina… Tina couldn't handle Doyoung. They can't even stand to be in a room together without it being awkward. So selfish of you to make this about yourself, squeezing his hand scolding. He takes it with humor, feigning not noticing for the sake of his ego.

"Of course my mom didn't know Tina's age, when she realized how much younger she was, she stopped the jokes. They became somewhat friends, never seeing each other outside the community center to my knowledge. I didn't see Meghan for years after that but three years ago when my mom's Alzheimer's worsened and she had forgotten the difference between toxic versus non toxic liquids, she ended up poisoning herself by drinking insecticide. Later we found cleaning supplies with her lipstick on the mouth. It's at the funeral that I saw Meghan again and she was there for my dad and I…"

You didn't imagine this would take that turn. He always spoke so fondly of his parents like they were still around somewhere. Never said where but still around. You now realize it's their lingering presence around everything here.

"I'm sorry, Doyoung…" He dismisses you, shaking his head and kissing your hand. He's trying to control his labored breathing, warm and harsh against your skin, his hand clammy.

"Dad felt so guilty for it all. He taught about the development of the human brain, did neuroscience studies for the university and certain labs here and there all his life and he couldn't save his own wife. So… he left me too. He left for a study, who knows where and I haven't heard from him since." He smiles, a sort of bitterness that he didn't want to have for his father. Reluctance to accept that it was perhaps more than a trip. "Lawyers came days after he left, everything left to my name on both their ends. Meghan had been the only one to check in on me besides extended family but they live far away, there's not much they could do."

Guilt floods you. Why couldn't you just push back that desire to belittle Meghan more in your mind. The worst part is that your brain won't stop telling you that she only took advantage of his vulnerability. Sweet, vulnerable Doyoung who lost his parents in a span of weeks left to rot on his own with a huge house, assets, and a desire to give and give to anyone willing to comfort him. Convenient.

Doyoung hums, sitting up. The silence helps him admire you, or simply distract himself from this gushing open wound. The braid he destroyed, cascading over your shoulder. Shoulder covered in a thick light yellow lace strap with matching ribbons on the chest. He smiles noticing the small details, he recalls helping you sneak into Meghan's craft room to make that night gown. Fabric and ribbon he took from his mother's stash.

She would like you, he believes so.

"You've made good use of the marigold dye." Doyoung smiles, his hand reaching to touch the strap. His fingers dance over it, letting them touch your skin. It's cruel and mean but very elating. He's been playing this teasing game and unfortunately, it's you who wants it more. From then on, they inch closer to the ribbon. Fingers jumping on every spot and ending on the bow, delicately admiring it.

Truth be told he kept his touch there to feel the increase of your respiration. Chest moving up and down faster than previously. He smiles to himself, almost mischievously when he notices a new item around your neck. "The roses too… my mother would have been so content with you." He giggles, patting your cheek prior to giving himself the liberty to touch the rose beads that form a necklace.

She would like you, he's sure of it.

"Very ingenious, so good." Doyoung hums, his hand trails to hold your neck. You nod slowly, entranced in your humiliating arousal from just his touch. You feel pubescent, frothing at the mouth from one touch. Stupid. He's just another man… a man that coddles and holds you in secrecy. It's the forbidden excitement laced with guilt at how treacherous the human mind and body can be.

Clearing your throat, you look around, avoiding his gaze. "Yes, well, she has a lovely and fruitful garden… Greenhouse too, I found some purple cabbages from the spring season, they'd make a lovely dye." You divert but his touch doesn't fall, his other hand opts to join on your cheek, cradling it.

Instinctively you lean into it, forcing you to look at him. There's no teasing or patronizing looks on his end and you're thankful for it. It's full blown admiration and desire in those dark orbs that pull you closer to him while he caresses you. They allow themselves to rake your face. Every feature but most of all your lips and eyes, longing to land on your pupils as to bless whatever you see. On your forehead to reassure that he is your safe haven as you are becoming his. It oddly reminds you of the looks he gave when cleaning your feet before the accident. Like Mary Magdalene admiring her savior.

Doyoung thinks he is allowed this indulgence for once. He can punish himself after but he can no longer go without tasting your skin on his lips, he feels so famished. Letting out a shaky breath, he softly rises, bringing your head closer to him. Breath labored with every move and warm against your skin when he's mere centimeters from it. Shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, letting them fall on your eyelids.

Velvet and moist, that's how his lips feel. You sigh in relief, unaware you had been holding your breath. His lip travels to the other eyelid, it's quick unlike prior, for he rushes to kiss your forehead, lingering for as long as he can before letting out a content sigh of his own, and a liberated smile. He wants to laugh at how absurd he is being but that would only keep wasting time.

Doyoung is so close to your lips when he decides it is best to take the full risk, however you both hear the soft knocks against your door and the rattling of the doorknob. He can't describe the feeling as freight, more so irreverent wrath.

"Y/n? Y/n why is the door locked?"

Tina.

The man instantly pulls away. His touch burns you both and guilt manifests itself through blown out pupils — your own, not his. Your lips are ajar when he places his finger up to his own, like the way he entered your room and disappears the same way. He says nothing and neither do you, opening the door when he's not in view.

The doorknob continues to rattle until she feels the weight of your hand on it. You sigh heavily before opening the door, looking at her blankly which she notices but does not mention. She never does.

"I heard voices." "I'm watching a movie."

She hums. She believes you. She believes you. She does…

"Why was the door locked?" She asks, concern on her face. When your eyes divert from hers, she can tell something had gone on. You usually enjoy having her know everything about you. That's what best friends do, yet at the moment you loathe her for it. That's what sisters do. That gnawing disturbance of frustration and impotency. The type she's felt this entire summer break.

You simply hum, she giggles.

"How bad was it now?" She now finds humor in knowing she always sleeps through their arguments. It's not so funny to you. "Nothing special, I was in the kitchen when he stormed out then she followed behind and they went at it after I left." She giggles once more. Unsure now if it's because she actually finds it comedic or she doesn't know how to respond.

This is her mother and her happiness they're talking about. This is you, her best friend and your friendship on the line.

It’s not like you can tell her that her stepfather defending you from her mom for the millionth time isn’t pushing her into deeper hatred. It’s not like you can tell her that her mother purposely starved you for the day out of pure unadulterated jealousy because her husband desires you more than her. No, can you? No. Silence and lies will do.

"Hey, did you know how Meghan and Doyoung met?" You ask, looking at where had laid. Tina shrugs, "She told me they saw each other at a coffee shop from time to time and talked since then. She doesn't like coffee though." She shrugs again.

Oh Tina. Willfully ignorant and avoidant. Perhaps the story is right but you're sure that if Tina fully knew her mother had met doyoung ten years younger with baby fat still on his cheeks and younger than she is, her dilemma would only worsen. Coward.

Unlike Tina, Meghan didn't hesitate in barging in after a few minutes. It leaves you and her daughter dumbfounded when the angry look becomes bewildered and disappointed, like she had expected to find something (or someone) to prove her suspicions.

"Mom?"

Meghan acknowledges it with a sigh, "Go to sleep, it's late." Making you both feel ten again at one of multiple sleepovers during school nights. Tina responds with a nod. You, you look at her for any trace of something. There's worry, that's for sure. And there's also anger. Nothing new.

The front door is slammed downstairs, causing Tina to get a startled look on her face that is reassured when Meghan shakes her head, dismissively. She opens her mouth to calm her daughter when a disgusting thought tells you to do the talking for her. She deserves even this bit.

"It's Doyoung, don't worry."

And it's disturbing to Meghan that you spoke her thoughts, word for word while looking at her.

Meghan has gotten her confirmation for the night.

That night had given some clarity to Doyoung. Arguments with his wife seized for the most part and before they could begin, he was out the door for his nightly runs. That's what she believed at least. He tampered with his smartwatch to mark his steps knowing she would look through it.

Reality is that he crept up the trellis to your room. Spending the nights under the covers with earphones in, door locked, lights off, and a movie lulling you to sleep while getting a few whispered conversations in here and there. His lips or yours pressed against each other's ear. It was the closest to kissing you would get at.

When you do fall asleep, he tucks you in. Caresses your hair and kisses your forehead goodnight before crawling back down the trellis and entering through the front door. To continue his reality of being married to a woman that no longer treats him with the care he sought but at least he can provide it for you and that you've slowly been returning.

Doyoung has taken that into account and rewards you for it. The gifts were small at first, snacks that Meghan wouldn't allow into the house, books in your wish list. They later became more intricate. Your personal taxidermy and diaphonization kits (locked in his study), pendants of the critters utilized, a camera to document your process, and the most recent being two chickens and doves.

The animals irked his wife more than anything. She has spent the past two months arguing about tearing down the greenhouse and it only took you a mention of the excess of caterpillars and worms in there for him to bring in the chickens. You looked after them, sure, however the chickens with free range left their eggs and droppings everywhere. It felt intentional how she found them laying on her clean laundry, pecked her if they saw her, and worse off stained all of her fabric. They abhor her as much as she does them.

At least the bleeding-heart doves are lovely to look at despite their cold shoulder towards her. Tina gets a ruffle of feathers, you and Doyoung some crooning, and spooning among each other when it's you and him peering upon them. It's the small things that drive her deeper into her madness.

Like seeing you sit criss-crossed on the plush bright grass. It's dewy again, much taller now than it was before but he promised to mow soon. Right now he's too busy hammering in old nails onto stained wood and footprints —yours and his— to create a coup for the chickens. Not by her demand, no. He'd never take hers seriously, but yours.

"Diaphonized insects are horrid. They're all brown. I think I should give wet species a chance." Doyoung takes your words in, a simple chuckle looking at your pout. Petulant and spoiled. "Y/n, you're not drying them fast enough." He corrects, you shrug knowing he may be right but working with insects has bored you. "Either way, centipedes and spiders look disgusting in those vials."

The chickens flock around you, pecking the ground. Their clucking became louder, frustrated the longer they weren't able to obtain what they wanted. Doyoung gives them a quick glance, a fastidious kind of melody, one he isn't used to. Neither are you according to the stink eye you give them. It's pleasant to Meghan, leaning against the sink with peering bright eyes, it feels like justice for once.

It's a delicacy. Your desperate attempts to calm them down, Doyoung's hammering exasperating the chickens, and finally… A loud and pained screech from you, pushing away the hen that victoriously clucks as it swallows the culprit of your scream. One of the neighbor's centipedes.

Doyoung drops his tools, rushing to your aid. He watches you tumble, attempting to stand, however the aching sting and burn on your foot doesn't allow it. Meghan watches every movement from you both. Your disgruntled whines and moans, his shushes in an attempt to calm you down. Hands clasping around your feet, soothing the inflamed bump in hopes it did something. It didn't, it irritated the wound further.

"I told you the critters would recognize your feet." He jokes, scolding in the process. The stinging is intense enough that waspishly, you huff, pouting his way. "Nuh-uh." You reply, rolling your eyes when he throws in a glare. He shakes his head, finally sitting, his knees aching. Like the day you burnt your feet, he takes your feet in his lap, looking over the wound while your soles leave stains again.

He smiles to himself, an airy laugh as if he was coming up with something, fingers waltzing over the bite. "I told you to put shoes on, I won't always be here to help you." Smile turns into a grin, teasing as he lets his lips fall over the wound.

It stings. The warmth of his own flesh against the boiling fire of yours, it's not pleasant and you make it known. With the exception that it comes out strangled and pleasured. Much to his delight, making his lips part, tongue gracing the area just to add more pain and more pretty sounds to leave you.

It's an erotic image to anyone who experiences and sees it. Meghan feels the boiling pain in her chest, the same way you do on your foot. The only difference is that Doyoung won't attempt to soothe hers. He won't even acknowledge it.

Doyoung is looking up at you with a curling smile, lips pulling apart from your skin, eyes raking the expanse of your exposed thigh when the dress rode up. " Met with a harsh pull, Meghan reaches both of you, hands on Doyoung who stumbles to stand up. It's hard to decipher what her expressions read, all emotions coursing through like a bad acid trip, colors roaming around in a slew.

Anger, disgust, pain, defeat, resentment. It made no difference, it was all negative.

"How do you plan on defending this now, huh?" She asks, wavering voice when she looks between you two. "What could you possibly say to make this look normal, Doyoung?!" Her voice rose, startling Tina who had been in the entertainment room when she heard your scream. Like usual, she opts to remain where she's at. It's no use involving herself when she's known how this would all end since the beginning.

"Sucking the venom out, Meghan. Fuck me, why do you have to make everything so salacious?" Doyoung grits, a tone she had not fallen for years ago.

His speech and tone has changed within these months. He no longer spoke like a poised character, he spoke like you. He smelt like you and his quirks adapted to yours. Doyoung was no longer Meghan's and that's a fact she's finding difficult to deal with. Similar to how parents aren't able to understand the autonomy of a child as they grow.

Frustratingly so, his response made sense to her. She's seen it in movies, she's read about it — so she thinks. Unfortunately for her, this was only a sting, like a mosquito or a bee sting, something that will subside with ointment just like your burns weeks prior. There was nothing to suck out nor was it recommended.

"How convenient." She scoffs. Meghan hated how upset she was. She knew this was bound to happen and why she kept her relationship hidden from you for the past two years.

Meghan knew your interests, knew your beliefs, and knew you her entire life. She knew how drawn everyone instantly is to you and woefully, she knew Doyoung would be one of those people too. She was proven right the first day when she saw him approach you on that swing and converse so easily. Touch you so easily…

It never got better as the days went by. Why was it so easy for him to cave and give you a room? A room meant for her hobbies. A room meant for hobbies, as his mother had wanted. Why did he allow you into his study without hesitance when she could only remain for five minutes or so? Why did he have to please you by offering dinner? It's been a while since he's taken her out to dinner. Yes, it was wrong of her to privy you of basic needs but earlier in the day she had seen you so content in that stupid greenhouse and understood fully why he kept refusing to tear it down besides grief. You kept it alive just like his mother did.

Her jealousy doesn't outweigh her disdain for being undermined. Like a person working night and day, loyal to one job for years on end and aging throughout them to be replaced like nothing by a new set of fresh meat. A kick to the rear and a big "Fuck you, you're no longer useful and too old for us to care about your opinion." That's how her relationship with Doyoung felt when he met you.

When they started dating, Doyoung sought her sweet reassuring words and pet names. Her gentle touches and pats when he did a good job. Her comforting food and the affection she gave Tina. It was pleasant, she knew what he wanted all along and she was more than willing to give it to him as long as he reciprocated her own desires. Surrendering control and devotion.

Those things no longer belonged to her. His devotion shifted to you —she's witnessed it on multiple accounts— and control is his again. That's one way of looking at things. He moves her and Tina into his home, doesn't let her make any changes and instead rubs it in her face that you adore the house and its quirks. His house and his quirks.

If everything reminded her already of his parents, it now reminds her of you too and how much more power ghosts and a child have rather than her.

Meghan scoffs and huffs every now and then while rebutting his arguments. He mimics them to show her how absurd she is being. It's a never ending cycle they've grown comfortable with but that needs to stop. This isn't what either signed up for when they legally bound their love. If you can even call it that, it's more than clear both were pitifully lonely and disturbed.

"Are you even hearing yourself, seriously?" Doyoung sighs, offended at the implications she kept throwing at him. His thoughts may be vile and depraved when it comes to you but he's punished himself enough. Meghan doesn't seem to understand that while he now recognizes he never did love her, rather sought the affection of a mother, he was bound to honor those vows.

But he was only a man and men are weak.

Meghan has double the years of experience he does and she knows that if you ever stop seeing her with those same eyes Doyoung once saw her with and which Tina is bound to by the universe's request, and gave him free reign, he'd take the opportunity without a thought.

"No, are you hearing yourself? Better yet, do you see what you do?!" She glares, "You enable her to do whatever she wants. Parade around my home as if it was hers. Make a mess of the floorboards, lock herself with you in that stupid study, for what? Your disgusting bugs? Really, Doyoung it's odd how much time you two spend together, you don't even spend that time with your own stepdaughter, neither of you have spent time with Tina. She’s supposed to be Tina’s best friend."

Doyoung felt his frontal lobe develop for the second time in his life. Stepdaughter… Fuck, he was only thirty with a twenty-five year old stepdaughter. Does anyone see how disturbing and odd this fucking is? No, he definitely cannot stay in this for much longer.

"And you know what? Jesus, you're acting like a fucking brat yourself." She scoffs. "The longer you spend with her, the more immature you become. Genuinely, what use was it for your parents to give if you're going to act like a child." She shrugs.

"Don't even bring my parents into this, fuck off." Doyoung disturbed glares at her. "Don't fucking do that. It only seems that way because you hate when anyone is better than you. Smarter and secure than you, get a grip, Meghan. Don’t forget that I’m closer to her age than yours. I’m allowed to be childish, remember that… Don't fucking bring them up ever again."

He was right but that's exactly what she hated most.

"Honestly Meghan," Dumbfounded, Doyoung sighs, hands rubbing upon his face exhausted. "You've known Y/n longer than me. If you don't plan on trusting me, at least trust her. What kind of mother are you if you can't offer her that?"

His tone quickly twisted into condescension, the sheer feeling of being talked down upon by someone who knows nothing about life irking her furthermore and the slight consideration that gnawed at the back of her head was ultimately consumed by that twisted rotten tar in her soul.

"Well she isn't my daughter is she?" Meghan spews without thinking. "She's not my fucking daughter. Not by blood, not metaphorically, nor by law. Tina is my daughter and you know what my daughter doesn't do? Throw herself at my shithead of a husband like any other hussy does!" Her hands meet with his shoulders multiple times, abrasive like every word. No regard that those words were loud and clear for you who remained on the grass and Tina in the entertainment room with the TV on full blast. No longer able to hide and ignore like she's done all along.

Doyoung doesn't mind the contact or the harsh words towards him. What he does mind is her rejection of motherhood. Yes, she's correct to an extent, however how harsh must one be to deny the impact their motherly doting has left on a young and impressionable child? He has fairly understood your restraint and guilt after each encounter is interlaced with your respect towards Meghan and now all he can think about is how that shattering reality will affect you.

Will affect him…

It's disgust and resentment that meets Meghan— she takes it with pride. It's empathy that meets you when he turns to face you. Seeing the instant heartache aflame in your eyes and through the cracks of your chest.

Pity is what you take it as. Disturbed by such, you stand up, the walk of shame towards that stupid greenhouse his wife detests so much. A soft shut is what makes him turn back to Meghan, disdain so palpable that Tina can feel it as she peers through the window. Relenting to the reality she's been trying to avoid these months. It's odd to be a background character in something that affects her directly. She knows there's more to come and when it's done, she'll have two options, only one right answer.

Her mother or her best friend… her sister.

Their words are muffled on the further end of the greenhouse. You imagine this is what Tina would hardly hear in her slumber and it was nice to an extent. You've always admired her discipline. You can't say you admire it now, many of those arguments could have been prevented if she spoke up about her discomfort towards her mother dating a man near her age, a man that sought the affection she was given. A grieving man.

Tina was disciplined but she was also a coward just the way Meghan wanted her to be. The way Meghan wanted all of you to be. Fearing yet adoring her. Devout like a disciple to their God.

Meghan was nowhere near a God. She was closer to a pathetic haggard with no accomplishments in life besides her daughter's, living vicariously through her. She attempted to do the same with Doyoung and it may have worked for a while. She soon realized that she couldn't do such a thing with someone that's always had more opportunities than she's had.

Doyoung had two loving parents his entire life. Just like you.

Regrettably, they weren't able to be near him as much as he would have liked them to be due to their career. Just like you.

However, they provided no matter what — even in the after life — and it showed throughout the house and the love he still holds for them. Their presence is felt in the grooves of doorknobs she replaces, the carvings on the wooden doors she plans on modernizing, the stained windows she'll break, the chips on the kitchen island she will fix, the garden with horrid flamboyant flowers that are eaten away by pests, and that ghastly greenhouse with plants that pretentiously have to mean something.

There's no grasp of control in a house that is meant to exude security, love, and reassurance. No grasp if she's not the one to plant that seed.

Fortunately for you, the house welcomed you in and now you don't care how much you rub it in her face. This was meant for you and if she thought of you as the complete opposite of what she's groomed you into, you'll let the entire world know that Doyoung and everything she wanted to obtain is yours by prophecy.

"How's your foot?" The soft voice that greets you nightly approaches you, his warm fingers taking your shoulder, spinning you around and forcing the pen in your hand to drop. The solemn look on your face and the exaggerated pout makes him sigh, your shrug forcing his touch away. "Better."

Doyoung nods as a response, approaching and taking you in a tight embrace to reassure you that it was all going to be okay, that Meghan was nothing but bitter and defeated.

"I'm sorry…" He whispers against your hair, leaving kisses here and there. Your sigh, tightening his embrace. "It's not you who said it." You expel, burying your head in his chest the way your doves do. He kisses your head again, reward for such a sweet action.

"But it's my fault she did." "It doesn't matter now."

Doyoung peels away as much as he can without breaking the embrace. His eyes search yours for a hint of sadness, however all he can see is fiery anger and vindictiveness.

His hand takes your cheek, both warm and soft. "It does..." He hums, "You know it does." Eyebrows furrowed, concerned with how easily you've given it up. He knew you'd be upset but relent is not what he expected. No, he does not like this.

You pout, grip on his torso tightening to leave the feeling of your touch lingering for as long as it could. "It'll pass."

Doyoung truly didn't know how to fix this on his own, it's not his duty to do so either. Yet, the last thing he wanted was to see you upset over the words of someone so vile who did not deserve any strong emotion conveyed. Prior times he was able to pacify you with his gifts or embraces, nowadays it's been a bit harder.

"Will it?" "It has to. I'll have time to mourn later."

Mourn.

Doyoung thinks about the last time he allowed himself to mourn. He wonders if you'll follow in his footsteps and ignore it, falling in the embrace of a rancid older person who will only take advantage over the loss of a profound relationship. He doesn't want you to do that, you should seek comfort in the arms of someone who can oddly comprehend you despite the hierarchy being completely different.

It should be him.

Decidedly, Doyoung leans in, like that first night in your room. His lips don't linger above your features or your lips like last time. This time he dives in, taking your lips into his in a slow and tender kiss. You reciprocate it instantly, holding onto him for dear life, afraid to be tossed around once more.

Your lips part slightly, seeking air although inviting him further in. Doyoung moans into the kiss when your hands creep under his shirt, they're peculiarly cold for such a hot summer. Alluding to the death that floods you from Meghan's rejection. He can tell you're replaying her words over and over every time your kisses get hungrier. Tongue overlapping his and savoring him further. Fingernails raking his smooth pale back. He'd be glad to parade those pink streaks, it's the least he could do.

He wasn't far off. It's interesting how easy one can hate someone they've loved for so long. All you had in mind was punishing Meghan for what she just said. She's killed you. She's killed that little girl that looked up at her like a mother. Mother's are supposed to be nurturing and kind. But like she's said, she doesn't owe it to you. You're not her daughter, never were.

Cruel, cold, and a bitch she was. You could be that too, you've become aware of it with every cold shoulder and scowl from her. You'll be what she truly sees you as if that'll make her happy.

Men are weak, you've known this too. She's taught it to you. So why not start proving it with her husband? Giving him that chance everyone knew he awaits.

Your hands warm up the longer they roam around his torso, ripping the buttons off his shirt. He doesn't seem to care, not when it's a piece Meghan made him. "Will you make me feel better, Doie? Will you help me forget? I think we both need to forget?" You whisper against his lips, his labored breathing mixing with yours, chasing your lips as a response.

He whines like a pet being denied a treat, teased and laughed at. To satiate him, you peck his lips, nipping them and earning another whine, pleased this time. He nods fervently, his own hands grasping your body, making sure you're here with him.

Swollen lips leave open mouthed kisses along his jaw, trailing to his throat. Nipping softly at the taut skin. He hisses and gasps here and there but he never pushes you away. He takes what you give, just like you.

Thankful for such, it's time you take a bite of that apple, rotten and all.

Doyoung groans when he feels your teeth cling to his Adam's apple, fingers pressing into your own skin. His body is now cold, similar to how your hands were at the beginning, it's infectious but delicious. He needs more of whatever you give him. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

It's easy to read his mind, the way those eyes look at you, ten times more intense than before. Enough to push you into creating a trail down his torso, similar to the stream of sweat that clung to him that first day you met. This felt nice against his cold skin. The warmth of your mouth and delicacy of lust intermingled into making his groin harden. You notice the need, fingers clumsily toying with the belt buckle until it's gone.

You tease here and there, fingers clinging to the hem of his underwear, scratching above his pubic hair and making him hunch over, only stopped by the feeling of your forehead on his exposed torso, purposefully giggling to have your breath tickle his greedy skin.

"It tickles." He utters, looking down at you with blown pupils. You smile, looking up at him with wide eyes, pressing your knuckles into his skin. "Better?" You question, he grins and nods.

You use his shirt as a cushion underneath your knees, it's futile and barely aids but it's better than bare concrete. Seeing there was no use to taunt him any longer, your fingers crawl within his underwear, grasping the phallic in much need of attention. He hisses feeling your grasp, it's soft but firm, tugging him out brusquely on purpose. He liked that.

Doyoung pants, attempting to control his breathing. It's been so long since he's been touched, any time Meghan attempted he was flooded with disgust and self hatred, pushing her off when she aimed to at least kiss him. He could live with it, believing his sex drive had died before you came into the picture. But with you around the house and him 24/7, it was becoming very difficult to do anything about his increased sex drive.

"You're so hard… When's the last time you had any action?" You ask casually, hand rhythmically rocking against his shaft, thumb collecting any drop of pre-come to smear against him. He's reluctant and embarrassed to answer but your sweet smile is so convincing that he responds with a guttural moan.

"I see." You hum, kissing his tip as a reward, eliciting another moan. Masturbating in the shower was not enough. Sometimes Meghan tried to get in there with him and it would make him flaccid immediately. It seemed the only times he could ever relieve himself was in the comfort of his study. His favorite times when you and Tina took advantage of the pool and sun bathed with his research papers in hand. That excited him most, the image of you in a skimpy swimsuit in front of his window and reading his thoughts on a subject you couldn't care for as much but would take just because it was made by him. You took anything he gave you.

The memory alone made him twitch in your hand, a giggle leaving your pretty lips. Like this, he would get so much harder like this. "I get it, Doie. I won't stall any longer." You relent, leaning further to take him in your mouth. The damp and warm cavity force a moan out of his own, holding onto your hair as he throws his head back. Fuck, he's been craving this for so long.

Doyoung feels his ears ring. His own breathing along the squelching of your throat floods them. He thinks this is heaven, although he doubts an act like this would allow any of you in. Right, it wouldn't. Not after you both submit to the temptation of forbidden fruit. But it's better this way, what fun is there in being a garden when you can't have what makes you feel good? Even if it is a sin.

He relishes in the feeling of your mouth around him, head bobbing on its own despite your free hand giving him permission to push as much as he wants. Your tongue swirls around his cock, pressing firmly against the veins and dancing around the rest. It tickles, but he's sure you're aware. It is your favorite game after all.

He looks as pretty as the first day you met him. Beads of sweat rolling down his face, forcing his hair to frame and emphasize those pretty features of his. His ragged moans sound like those of an angel, pushing you further down his cock. It feels suffocating, he's not as girthy but he is long and it makes it much harder to push through. Even so, you want to be good for him, you've always wanted to be. This forces you to push through, gagging a few times but persevering until your nose hits his pubic bone.

Doyoung feels elated at this new found feeling. Your throat is so tight and warm, it feels like a reward for all he's endured. Sadly for him, it's torn apart, gifting him with an image of you teary eyed, gasping for air and a mixture of come and spit threading you both. He couldn't think he could get any more hard but this image alone makes him spurt pre-come onto your chin.

You give him a quick glance, smiling sweetly at him. "Close?" You ask, "You can come in my mouth, Doie." You utter, leaning in to take him in. He closes his eyes feeling your mouth around him again, dizzy and seeing stars. He feels the breeze enter from the windows of the greenhouse, whirling around you both. He finds that his body is no longer cold, it's scorching as yours.

Doyoung didn't think he could be so overstimulated before coming, it may be with the fact that he hasn't been touched for so long or how one of your hands clutches his into your hair, yanking to feel arousal from the sting. He swears can see a bead of your wetness roll down your leg when he looks down at you, cursing and bucking forward.

It hurts, you won't lie but that is exactly what made you keep taking him and pulling back out. The strain against your throat elating until he finally took it within himself to do as you wanted. His jutting forward with a harsh grasp on your hair, fucking your face and forcing you to gag while one of your hands plays with his testicles, only pushing him to go faster. Your other hand pushing aside your soiled panties and playing with your clit. It's a slick sticky mess, uncomfortable at best but the feeling alone does enough for you.

Doyoung mutters curses here and there. Pretty words too which you receive with moans that make him increase the pace. Both of his hands are on your hair when he finally feels himself spill in your mouth. His moan is so loud you wouldn't doubt that anyone outside of the greenhouse could hear him. You squeal, taken by surprise and also feeling yourself suffocate. Even when he's still inside of you, some of his come spills from the sides of your mouth, rushing out like water from a broken dam when he rips himself apart from you.

He feels out of it, trying to calm himself after such an intense orgasm as you are. Head thrown back, gasping for air without spilling any come still in your mouth. When you think you're stable enough, he helps you up. Kissing your soiled cheeks and licking his lips to savor himself. The image makes your pupils dilate. Taking himself in like it was melted ice cream, without a care. No one is as receptive to taste themselves but he was.

You hadn't come yet, and this image only made you want to reach that high more and more. Doyoung cluelessly smiles at you, appreciative of what you've done. It's wiped away when you take his face into your hands, kissing him. Instinctively, his lips part, allowing you to push his own cum into his mouth from yours. He's taken aback but weirdly aroused.

Narcissistic, egocentric, or whatever anyone wants to call it. It does not change the fact that Doyoung immediately hardens at the taste of himself mixed with the taste of your spit. The sweet tones of the lingering chocolate you two ate with the saltiness of his orgasm. Similar to a disgusting and corrupted salted caramel dark chocolate. It's not for everyone but it is meant for you two.

Hastily, he helps you up on the data table. Pulling down your wet panties and rubbing them along his hard and aching cock. He moans into the kiss, ragged and needy while he jerks himself off to increase the feeling. His tongue mingling with yours, swirling his come around both your mouths until it becomes warmer and lesser.

Fingers intertwined in your hair, tugging to hear more of you. Desire to hear more and more leads to shaking nimble fingers to trail the inside of your thighs. He smiles into the kiss feeling the scorching warmth within. Claiming and begging to be touched. He's no cruel man, not all the time at least, so he grants you this reward after all the ones you've given him.

Slowly, his ring and middle finger enter you easily with the slickness he's caused. The intrusion causes you to moan against his mouth this time, giving him the advantage to nip your tongue. It doesn't take Doyoung long to allow his fingers to move within you, pumping relentlessly to hear your pretty sounds. Guttural with the remaining come you two interchange.

You've always thought he had pretty fingers, since you met. Purposefully scraping yourself and staining your feet with grass to have him touch you. Nimble, long, and delicate enough to curl within your walls and cause a shiver down your spine. With the length, it doesn't take him long to reach your sweet spot. His pistoning motion and curl forcing cries and withering beneath him. Doyoung isn't as cruel or sadistic but this… he can understand why sadism exists.

Your legs don't seize to shake, a sheer layer of perspiration coating your body and face. He needs to let you finish, he just has to. It's not long until your body gives out, you need this or you'll probably pass out on this table alone.

But Doyoung allows himself to indulge that sadism he's contemplated for the past few minutes – enjoying his contradiction on cruelty. Halting his moves and ripping his hand away, taking the last drop of remaining come into his mouth to greet you with a cheshire grin as you look at him in surprise and betrayal. Every nerve in your body stings you left and right, punishing and taunting you for the lost glory.

"What the actual fuck?!" You gasp, looking at him, panting harshly with a body ready to explore from heat and desire.

He doesn't respond, letting the come and his spit trickle down to his glowing red cock, slacks and underwear pooled around his ankles. Now that his mouth is free, he chuckles. "Had to save some for lube." He shrugs, positioning himself between your legs. He kisses your cheek reassuringly, rubbing the come around him until he pushes within you. It feels different than his fingers and your mouth for the both of you. Surely, nothing will ever be as good as the actual thing.

Doyoung doesn't move just yet. Allowing you to get comfortable while he contemplates on whether you should leave the red gingham dress on. It's too pretty and he was there when you made it. Meghan had hated when you told her he allowed you to use his mother's machine and fabric. She hated that you were taking over her on her own craft.

Hm… yes, just for that he'll let you keep it on.

"Come on, Doie… Fuck me as hard as you can." You lean in, whispering against his ear, biting his earlobe. That was enough incentive for Doyoung to begin thrusting. It's slow but hard at first, setting the pace. It doesn't take long for him to quicken it, increasing your moans with it. You hold onto him tightly as he pounds into you. So deep into the pleasure of being full again that neither of you speak.

Legs pushed wide open against the table, his glute muscles flexing with every hard stroke. He kisses you here and there, licking away the beads of sweat from your neck like a starved animal in need of more.

The taste of your skin drives him insane, nipping and licking until he reaches your breasts. Pushing down the fabric of the dress to take one into his mouth. Engulfing it, harsh suction that leaves you wanting more. His teeth aren't as kind to your nipples but you don't mind as long as he is well fed. As long as you're able to please him.

"You feel so good, Y/n… I won't ever be able to get enough of you." He pants, thrusts hardening, hips swiveling to get closer to you, enough that his pubic bone creates friction against your needy clit. That intensifies the feeling that pushes you further into an orgasm. Doyoung feels it when you squeeze around him and moan his name like a mantra, pulling at his hair like he's done to yours.

"Please… I've been good. Please, let me come, Doie." You beg, implore. You couldn't handle it any longer. He's come once before, when this is finished, he'll have two orgasms. Yet all you have is aching, an overdue orgasm that will knock you out soon if you don't release it.

Pretending to ponder your prayer as he harshly pounds into you, lips consuming yours. Tongue gracing yours in search for a sliver of his come's taste still lingering within you. It's not as evident as before but he eventually finds it, smiling into the kiss and nodding.

"Let it go, baby." He croons, shushes leaving his lips as he keeps fucking you. His permission setting your body free that each thrust makes you feel so sensitive and it's not until he reverts back to those initial harsh and deep thrusts that you squeal and moan loudly. Clinging to his body for dear life while your legs spasm and come around him. The image sends him into his own orgasm. Feeling your body tremble against his while you cry out in pleasure from something he's caused. It's beautiful and if possible, he'd have you as the main piece with those pretty red ribbons you love so much on your hair, surrounded by his taxidermy as the main attraction because you're precious enough to preserve.

The thought peeves him but he won't dwell, not when you still feel so warm and good around his spent cock.

"Has she ever made you come this much?" You ask between giggles, looking at the pool of cum seeping into the wooden table and dripping onto the concrete floor. Doyoung groans remembering his reality. "No. I don't even touch her, why do you think there's so much?" He glowers, shaking his head in the process. "I don't want to think about her. Not now… with you so pretty and open for me." He grins, leaning in for a kiss.

You hum against his lips, wrapping your arms around him. "All this come for me?" You question sweetly, faking naivety, he nods, a light chuckle. "Only you have made me feel so alive and hot." He utters, burying his face in your chest, kissing your tits slowly.

A content sigh leaves you, eyelids fluttering, a malicious grin when you look forward.

There she is, five feet away with a dull and dead look on her face, Meghan.

"I bet." 

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[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 11

Synopsis: Jason continues to stick around and take care of you.

Notes: I am so happy you guys liked the last chapter. She was my baby while I was sick. Moving forward, we are going to keep going with the comfort because it's just nice. Jason is very touchy in this chapter. I mentioned somewhere about Jason’s love languages and this chapter is covered in them. He is out here taking care of Reader the way he would want to be cared for (even if he won't admit it out loud). Enjoy!!

Masterlist

You spent the night tossing and turning, drifting between the realm of asleep and awake. Aside from a warm hand luring you back into the dream world, you don't remember much. When you do wake finally, it’s raining. You can hear it pattering against the window of your room, the cold of it seeping in where it can. Your hand reaches for the warmth you had felt through the night to find it gone. You open your eyes to find yourself alone. An achy loneliness claws at your throat for a moment until you hear a clattering followed by a muffled curse. There’s silence for a moment before movement continues.

You turn to look at your alarm, quickly reminded of the pains from the night before. 11:48. You don’t know what time you made it home or what time you actually fell asleep. You still feel exhausted, but you don’t know if you could drift off. You take your time sitting up in bed, staring at the covers as you push down a wave of nausea. You slide out of bed, movements slowed by short waves of dizziness. You’re cold the moment your feet touch the ground. You grab a zip-up sweater and some fuzzy socks. You slide the sweater over your shoulders gingerly and take your time to pull your socks as you listen to shuffling from the kitchen.

You move quietly out of the bedroom and toe your way down the hall, peaking around the corner to see the kitchen. Jason stands in front of your stove. The smell of bacon invades your senses, and your earlier nausea tries to show itself. You watch him as you quietly pull a stool from under the island and sit down. He moves easily through your kitchen and before you fully settle in your seat, he has a glass of water and a couple of pain pills in front of you. You glance at the items and then up at him. He cracks a fond smile at you and a tender gnawing feeling starts in your chest.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice just slightly gravellier than normal. You had only heard his voice like that once before when he took you to watch the sunrise on the bay. The memory warms you.

“I’m okay,” you say quietly tugging at the sleeves of your sweater where your arms rest on the counter. He catches your movement and leans across the island, grabbing your hands and pulling them slightly forward. He pushes your sleeves down. Twisting your hands this way and that, he examines the bruising with a disapproving frown.

“It’s okay if you’re not; you went through something traumatic,” He gives your hand a rub with is thumb before he sets your hands back on the counter and turns back to the stove, “I was worried, you were seriously out of it last night.”

Your mind flashes through everything from the moment you made it to your apartment. You feel warmth creep up your neck and you bury your face in your hands. God, he had practically seen you naked. Talk about skipping a few steps in a relationship. Over your embarrassment, you feel a flood of gratitude because, despite the vulnerable position you had been in, Jason never took advantage of you. You hear a clink as something is set down in front of you. You peek through your fingers to see a plate loaded with bacon, scrambled eggs, and fried potatoes. Your nausea flares again.

“I’m not hungry.” You say, swallowing around nothing.

“You feel sick?” he asks. You nod and he’s quick to respond.

“It’s because you’re starving. I know you didn’t eat lunch or dinner yesterday because you were working all day and you definitely haven’t had anything today.” He states. You drop your hands to squint at him suspiciously.

“How do you know I was working all day yesterday?”

“I called Jackie’s,” you open your mouth to complain but he keeps talking, “There was no way you were going to go to work today. You have a concussion. You need rest no heavy lifting and plenty of good food.” He nudges the plate closer to you.

“Oh, yes, bacon. The most healing food out there.” You pick up a piece and bite into it. Despite the nausea, it tastes amazing. You finish the piece and your nausea ebbs away. You glare at Jason for being right. He just smiles and turns to make himself a plate. One slice of bacon in your stomach and you take the pain meds he had gotten for you. As you’re gnawing on a potato, you notice that the TV is on, volume so low you hadn’t noticed it at first. It’s the news, something about a car chase earlier that morning. You take your plate and cup of water and settle on the couch, crisscross. You had thought Jason was going to join you, but you hear the sound of the kitchen faucet running.

“You don’t have to wash my dishes. I can do it.” You call out. You hear a scoff before he responds.

“I made the mess; I’ll clean it up.” He says. You sigh because you know that there were more dirty dishes in the sink than the ones that he used but you don’t have the energy to argue. You continue eating, zoning out on the TV. Jason sits next to you, your knee pressing to his thigh, when the news changes. The anchor woman’s sharp voice evoked urgency.

“Breaking News. This just in. The Penguin has been arrested on accounts of multiple homicides and involvement in a human trafficking ring run through his club The Iceberg Lounge. Late last night at a known body dumping sight just north of Aparo Park, The Red Hood was seen pulling a young woman from a warehouse just minutes after Penguin had left the scene. The GCPD knew about the dumping site but had no evidence connecting it to him until now. At the warehouse, Police found the body of Ted Jackson. Jackson has been wanted by police for months on accounts of sexual assault and homicide. His body was brutally mutilated and the woman’s official statement states that Red Hood was responsible. For those not aware, Red Hood has been playing by Batman’s rules of no killing for the last four years. Is this sudden change in ethics a bad sign for Gotham? Or has The Batman lost his hold on this vigilante? We’ll see what our commentators think after the break.”

You set your plate on the coffee table, appetite gone. You tip your head back against the couch and slouch with a sigh, eyes closing. You rub your hands against your face in frustration. You wish you could just forget last night but you can feel it, just hovering at the edge of your mind, ready to pounce if you were to relax even a little bit.

“You okay?” Jason asks again. You peek one eye at him from the cracks in your fingers.

“You going to keep asking me that?”

“Only until you give me an honest answer.” He gives you a knowing look and you drop your hands.

“I’m not but it won’t change anything. I’ll get over it.” He snorts at your comment, and you glare at him.

“We can make you a Gothamite yet.” He grins at you.

“Shut up,” You try to smack at his arm, but he catches your hand. He holds your hand softly and gently rubs over the scraps on your knuckles and fingers. They tingle but don’t hurt. Your mind slips for a moment to how you got them, knife in hand, dragged by the ankle.

No. You snap yourself out of it and pull your hand from his. You meanly press your hands together in your lap. You keep your chin tucked watching the way your fingers squish together. You can feel Jason staring a hole into your cheek but you ignore it. A strange awkward silence creeps into the space. You hadn’t known awkward silence with Jason, ever.

“So, Red Hood? Good thing he showed when he did, huh?” He finally says. There’s a weird forced nonchalant to the question and you wonder if maybe he’s a fan.

“No, that asshole,” you mumble under your breath. You feel a sudden unbridled anger towards that man that had been coming in through your window. It was his fault you got kidnapped and then he showed up just to ditch you outside. He didn’t even do anything!

Jason must have heard your words and tone as he lets out a shocked, “What?”

You shake your head because you had to explain how you’re feeling to Jason, you would have to explain a bunch of other stuff too. Mostly you didn’t want to tell Jason that it was you who had killed Ted Jackson, not Red Hood. You didn’t want Jason to look at you any differently than he usually does.

“It’s nothing. He’s a great guy, did his job and all that.” You say with a less than enthused tone. You can see in Jason’s eyes that he wants to question you on the matter but instead, you get a different question.

“Wanna watch a movie? Keep your mind off of everything?” you eye him like he might jump you with a different question. His brows raise, still waiting for an answer.

You finally answer, nodding, “Yeah, okay.” You drag your blanket from the other side of the couch and pull it into your lap. “Nothing action-y or gore please.”

Once you have the blanket settled, you glance at him to find him gleaming at you.

“What? What do you watch?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

Your face crinkles and you respond, “Do you have no other personality? Just Jason, Pride and Prejudice fan.” He chuckles at your comment.

“Unless there’s something else you want to watch.”  You don’t have anything else in mind, so you concede with a head shake. He offers you the remote. You stare at it.

“Just look it up,” you tell him, still shuffling your blanket. He stares you down like he’s about to tell you something devasting.

“I’m going to be honest,” his tone serious, “I had a really hard time just finding the news this morning.” You laugh quietly into your hand.

“Don’t worry. I honestly didn’t even know I had the news.” You steal the remote from his hand and do a quick search through your streaming services. As the movie starts you snuggle back into your blanket, propping your feet on the coffee table. You lean over just slightly your shoulder pressing to his. He tenses for a moment and then relaxes again.

“I think it’s really funny that you suck with technology.” You whisper.

“I don’t suck at it. It just doesn’t make sense sometimes.” He whispers back to you like you’re in an actual movie theatre. You giggle into your blanket but quiet up, focusing on the movie. You don’t pull away from your touching shoulders and neither does he.

Jason does the opposite. He copies your slouch against the couch and props his feet on the table next to yours. The slouching pushes his shoulder tighter to yours and you just settle your head against his shoulder. Body relaxed against the heat of him again, you fade in and out of sleep. Moments of dancing, arguments in a drizzle of rain, and a warm body keep the cold dark corners of your mind at bay.

When you wake, you find yourself on your side, lying across the rest of the couch. Your legs had somehow ended up in Jason’s lap. You turn your head slightly just to watch him. His eyes focus on the TV as his hand moves up and down your calf, absentmindedly massaging the muscle before squeezing at your ankles, feet, and toes through your socks before repeating the process over. You take the time to just stare at him.

His black hair curls at the tips and you wonder if he styles it. You quickly brush the notion off because you can’t picture him doing that. He must have curly hair then. You follow the line of his face and smile at the intense stare he has on the TV. You pause at the scar on his cheek. Your old mental jar does rattle, although it’s not as loud as it usually is. Red Hood left you, Jason hadn’t. you still focus on the scar and your mind drifts to your conversation with the penguin.

“Do you have a job?” you ask suddenly. Jason glances at you out of the corner of his eye. The corner of his lip twitches up.

“Tired of me already?” he says as he gives your calf another squeeze before rubbing up and down.

“That’s not-” you pause for a second and close your eyes trying to collect your thoughts, “We’ve just never talked about it. Obviously, you know where I work. I don’t know where you work.” You don’t want to admit that Penguin, of all people, was making you question whether or not he was a criminal.

“I work in security.” He says easily.

“That’s beautifully vague.”

He chuckles at your comment, “A security subcontractor. I can make my schedule and only take on jobs I want.”

“Oh, like a mercenary,” you feel him tense at the word, “but you protect people instead of killing them.”

He shifts uncomfortably where he sits and you wonder if it’s you, so you try to pull your feet from his lap. His hand tightens around your ankle, keeping you there. You don’t think he realizes it.

“Yea, something like that.” He nods finally. “You should get a new door lock.” You want to roll your eyes.

“I can’t. This apartment is a rental.”

“You already changed your window locks and installed a shitty alarm system.” You snort.

“I didn’t-” you stop yourself, once again not wanting to tell Jason about Red Hood. “If you want to change my locks you can take it up with my landlord.” You offer instead of arguing.

He seems content with the offer, returning his gaze back to the TV with an “I will.”

Once the movie ends you stand to stretch, a slight twinge still in your back. You use the restroom and when you come back there’s a glass of water where your plate was, and Jason is wiping down the island with a rag.

“Will you stop cleaning my apartment?” you ask. He does a final wipe-down and shakes the rag over the trash.

“I’m stopping.” He rounds the island to stand in front of you. His hands find your arms, moving up a down slowly. “How you feeling?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m not answering that.” Hands move down your arms to hold your hands and pull them up to his eyes. The sleeves of your sweater slide down enough for him to look at the bruises on your wrist again. You want to pull your hands away and brush off his staring, but you like the way his hands feel holding yours. Rough and warm. You’d let him hold you for hours if that’s what he wanted.

“We should get you some bruise cream. They still hurt?” he says finally.

“Only a little. What do you mean bruise cream? I thought you just waited out bruises.” He stops staring at your wrists to look at you. Your hands hang loosely between you two, but he doesn’t let go.

“You could but my grandfather used to use this stuff on me when I was younger, the bruise wouldn’t disappear, but it did make it hurt less. One of those natural remedies sort of thing.” It was rare that Jason talked about his family and rarer with a tone of fondness. He has the same happy look that he did when he told you about the best cookies in the world. You wonder if the same man is responsible for those.

“Okay, do you make it?” You don’t think you have any ingredients for magic bruise cream, but he shakes his head.

“We can buy it; I think you need some groceries too.” He squeezes your hands and lets go, “I made a list.” You blink at him.

“You made a list?” you ask incredulously.

“Yea, you want to come with me, or do you want to stay?” The easy way he’s managing your apartment and getting ready to go grocery shopping for you throws you for a loop but you're even more caught off guard by his question. You don’t really want to leave your apartment just yet. The thought of what could be lurking in the shadows outside is enough to make you sick. You don’t want Jason to leave either. You know he would come back but you don’t think you’re ready to be alone yet. He must see your worried mental debate.

“No rush on the decision. We can watch another movie while you think on it.” You shake your head at his offer.

“Why don’t we just have it delivered?” you feel selfish asking. You’re sure he wants to go out but if he’ll let you keep him longer, you want him to stay. He gives you a confused look.

“It's not pizza. It's groceries.” You laugh at the surety of the statement. Your unknown scrunched shoulders relax. You’re once again reminded of how out of the loop with technology Jason seems to be.

“Everything can be delivered now, especially in the city. I just need my…” you trail off. Your phone. You don’t remember the last time you saw it. Definitely not today. Last night before you taken? You pat at your bum like it’ll be in the back pockets that don’t exist on your PJs.

“Phone?” You finally finish your sentence. A look of recognition crosses Jason’s face. He walks over to your dining room table where there’s a pile of papers you hadn’t noticed before along with your phone on top of it.

“The commissioner stopped by to drop it off this morning. They found it in the warehouse last night. He also dropped off some extra information if you need it, help lines stuff like that.” You were shocked that the commissioner would offer resources for help but you guess Gotham has enough crazies as is. Your shock changes to confusion.

“My phone was in a different place than my purse?” Jason's brows furrow.

“What?”

“Last night, you had my keys. You said that they had found them in the warehouse and gave them to you. But if they found my phone in the warehouse it would’ve been somewhere else since they didn’t give you my phone last night.” Jason presses his lips together and nods along as you speak.

“Sound thought process to me.” He hands you your phone. You get the strange feeling that Jason is hiding something from you but there’s nothing in the conversation to hide so push down the thought. You settle on the couch and show him how to order groceries online. An hour later and halfway through The Notebook, your groceries are delivered. You try to help Jason bring them in but he shoos you off. Then you try to help put them and he shuffles you to one of the stools at the island. You watch him put away the groceries easily. You get the feeling he had a lot of time this morning while you were sleeping, enough to make a grocery list and know where everything in the kitchen went. You don’t feel uncomfortable with the idea like you thought you would. Jason wasn’t a strange man rummaging through your apartment. He was your friend (or something more? You seriously needed to talk about that) and he was looking into your world and taking care of it and you.

Groceries put away he comes to stand next to you. He easily pulls your stool out more and turns your seat. Your heart jumps at the display of strength but you ignore it. He has a small jar in hand and you can only assume it’s the bruise cream he was talking about. He opens it, sets it on the counter, and pulls one of your hands from your lap. His ever-gentle touches are back, pushing your sleeve up to your elbow. He dips his finger into the cream and swipes it onto the bruise. You gnaw at your inner cheek, periodically glancing between his face and his hands. His eyes focused like he was worried he could hurt you by accident at any given moment. You focus on his hands as his fingers rub the cream until the white becomes clear. He takes your other hand and repeats the process, Warm, sturdy, and tender hands caress your skin and your heart aches just a little with that gnawing emotion you don’t think too hard about.

His thumb rubs at your knuckles for a moment and his other hand dips back into the jar. Cold cream is dabbed into the bridge of your nose, startling you enough to tip backward, nearly falling off of the stool. Jason moves quicker than you anticipated. His hand wraps around your waist pulling you forward. Your legs spread, accommodating him as he accidentally pulls into your space. Your hand curls into his shirt at his stomach, where you had grabbed in momentary falling panic. You stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Careful,” he murmurs, “your nose is bruised.” He adds in explanation. His hold on your waist loosens but doesn’t remove his hand entirely as he goes back to rubbing at your nose. You stare into his blue-green eyes as he rubs, relaxing in his hold. A surge of gratitude overtakes you again. It had been a long time since someone had taken care of you and you’re not sure if it was with a tenderness like this.

“Jason?” you say his name quietly. He hums in response, fingers no longer rubbing along your nose but moving to hold your face. You want to say how thankful you are for him and happy that he’s in your life. The words choke in your throat. He’s watching you again, the way he always does. You think you know what it means now but you’re not emotionally ready for that conversation.

“Will you stay the night again?” you finally get out, “Please.”

He nods, “Course.” His hand slides from your face to hold at the back of your neck. Your hands slide from his front to around his waist in a hug as you press your face to his chest, hoping it conveys what you’re feeling. You’ll have to have a conversation, eventually, but not today. Today, you’re content with Jason holding you.

Additional Note: This is Jason domesticating himself. I picture Jason as a watch-and-learn type of person and he’s been watching her as Red Hood how she keeps her apartment clean to her standards for a while. He’s going to use that knowledge. This chapter and the next chapter are definitely filler type chapters but its okay, we’ll get somewhere eventually. Drop a comment if you want, I like everybody's thoughts. Thank you for reading

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @tetsuroubaby, @herodedicatedblog

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄! | itoshi rin x fem reader

part twelve: childhood || BAND AU, A BIT AGED UP

plot: after your band's last concert, a few days after Rin's, an online competition arises about who is the best bassist. A whole new challenge is created by the new fandom who loves you, but people don't know that you and the bassist of Blue Lock haven't spoken in about 3 years since you broke up, when you were sixteen

characters presentation || last part || next part ; words: 1k

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

"When did you decide to play the guitar? I've never seen you here" you say to the child, putting your bass in the case "I started a few weeks ago. How about you?" he asks, and you think about it "I've been playing my bass for a long time now, I was 5 when I started!" You say, smiling at him, and he nods before walking back with his group

That Sae Itoshi was weird, but really good with his guitar. His guitar teacher always talked to your bass teacher about how he was a phenomenon, that's why you decided to talk to him for the first time, but he didn't seem particularly interested in you. Maybe he's shy, but you don't know

"Wait, Itoshi!" you say running towards him, the bass weighing on your shoulders "I'm convinced I can handle the speed with which you play your guitar, I can be your bassist!" you say, and he seems to think about it “Are you good?” he asks raising an eyebrow, and you nod "Many say that I am the best bassist of my age, in our music school" you say a little embarrassed. You see him a little perplexed as he takes the case over his shoulder "Do you have anything to do this afternoon?" he asks, and you shake your head to say no, following him with a smile on your face

As you walk towards Sae's house, you think about how you ended up in this situation: you don't even know why you care so much about being his bassist, but you think that he is capable of giving you notes that can make you electrify. You've been playing bass for 5 years now, and when you heard that the new guitarist at the music school you go was looking for some good bass players, you took the opportunity. Sae is 12 years old, a little older than you, but he already seems to be great at what he does; you have fairly high expectations, both on his part and on your part

"Come, we can go to the garage" says the child entering a small garden, taking a path that surrounds the road, which leads to the back. You follow him, looking around curiously, noticing how the outside of the house is very nice. When you arrive at the back Sae takes you into the already open garage, which overlooks a very well-kept garden, probably from her mother "You can connect your bass to that speaker. Shall we try some songs?" he asks, plugging in his guitar, and you nod, following the order that he gave you “You start, I'll join you and give you the right rhythm. After all, that's what the bass does"

Sae begins, and after a few seconds you join him: you both start playing a strong melody from a song you studied in music school, one you particularly like. Even though you've never played together you seem to have been doing it for a long time, as if a chemical reaction had taken place between your bass and his guitar. Play for minutes on end, until you reach the end

“That was so cool!” you say happy, but he doesn't seem to share the same happiness, despite being calm "It was nice. Let's try again with something else" he says, and you nod getting into position, yours fingers on the bass keys. For the second time you start playing without any problems, and you feel so happy to finally have someone who can give you emotions when he plays: you've been playing for a while, you know how it works to be paired with someone for a duet, you've always gotten along well with everyone because you're talented, but you've never had fun. But now you're doing it, you're not the only one with so much talent. It's satisfying, magical, beautiful

But as you play, you notice how someone is peeking from the last step of the garage stairs, the ones that probably lead to the first floor

Finished playing, Sae puts down the guitar, climbing onto the first step "Rin!" he says, and you are confused "If you are interested, you can come down. Observing is rude" says Itoshi, and a child comes out from behind the door, that is, from where he was hiding while he was looking at you "Sorry, Nii San" says the child coming down the stairs, looking down and apologetic

Seeing him like this, he is probably his younger brother; he could be your age, since you should be more or less the same height. He is quite different from Sae, except for the marked undereyelashes, perhaps a symbol of the Itoshi family: he has dark green hair, teal eyes and chubby cheeks. He is quite a bit shorter than Sae, that's why you're convinced he's his younger brother

When he reaches the garage floor, after going down the stairs, his gaze shifts to you: you observe each other for a few seconds, you curious about him and him for who knows what reason, which however doesn't make him look away

"Rin, I told you it's rude to stare. Introduce yourself to her" Sae says, walking over, placing a hand on his shoulder. Rin becomes serious again, standing up straight "I'm Rin Itoshi. I'm Sae's younger brother" the boy says, and Sae nods "He's 10, you should be the same age, right?" he asks, and you nod "I have 10 too, yeah"

Rin's gaze continually shifts between you and your bass as he stands a few feet away from you. You look at him curiously "Do you like my bass?" you ask, moving closer, and he takes a few steps back "Oh, yes" he says uncertainly, but you don't seem bothered by his uncertainty "Do you play an instrument too?" you ask, and Sae walks away, returning to his guitar, which he puts back on

“He said he wants to start sing-” Sae says, but is cut off from the ringing voice of his brother

"I want to play bass"

TAGLIST: @x3nafix ; @kittenish0 ; @littlejapanesesightseeingtrip ; @pan-kojiwa ; @pookalicious-hq ; @kaz-0e ; @sof888a ; @chugging-bleach ; @matchablossomsss ; @lovelymeguru ; @thebestsetter ; @yamsverse ; @princesssae ; @yuukigyatgyat ; @azharyy ; @rwbie ; @bubybubsters ; @swagkittybear ; @syarc0re ; @rink1sser ; @frogsrules ; @hwaassaa ; @chuuyalvover

[resident-idiot-simp]

Vanessa's co-workers POV

(x)

@shy-canadian-snowflake had somewhat similar conversation about this with him so kudos for that lol

Vanessa was well known at the office for being blunt and honest to the point of hilarity. She would tell you what she thought with no care of how you felt about it. She also had some borderline insane stories she would share that she didn't seem to think much about.

One off comment too that would bring people up short because….what?!

Things like getting kidnapped and held hostage by a maniac, or being shot and almost dying because she was with the wrong person.

She talked about hanging out with mutants which some people in the office had problems with. Vanessa just asked those who scoffed if they had an issue with it and to speak up if they did. Vanessa didn't take very kindly to anyone talking bad about mutants. People suspected it was probably a personal thing and wondered who exactly in her close family was one.

That question was answered one day if she was leaving with everyone else. A man in a hood and sunglasses was lingering around the exit and a lot of people were nervous. Vanessa wasn't however as she lit up when she saw the figure.

“Wade!” She called and the huge man looked up and smiled. His face was shadowed but from what they could see it was just scar tissue. Vanessa ran to the figure and the man opened his arms for her easily.

“Hey Nessa, how was work?” The man asked his voice chipper as he placed an obnoxious kiss on the top of her head which caused Vanessa to giggle. The other workers were just staring in confusion.

“Fine, I didn't know you would be here today.” Vanessa said with her hands on her hips after she pecked him on the cheek.

The man, Wade, sighed obnoxiously, “What, I can't surprise my best friend by walking her back to her apartment after treating her to dinner?” He asked, faking as much offense as he can manage.

“Just us?” She asked as she crossed her arms.

The others watched the interaction like a tennis match.

“Everyone else is busy besides we've not had dinner together in a while. Unless of course it offends your delicate sensibilities.” Wade shot back and Vanessa just laughed.

“Fine but I have to tell Dermot.” She says and the man shrugs easily, “Of course I'd be worried if I were him. Hell you know how I was with you, still am even.” He agreed.

“Oh I know I was engaged to you for a long time.” She shot back and he just laughed.

Everyone shared wide eyed looks at that. Vanessa had mentioned having an ex fiance and this was apparently him.

“Are you going to look like a creep the whole time?” She asked him as she pulled out her phone. He just shrugged, “Don't want to scare anyone.” He said softly and Vanessa rolled her eyes, “Yes because someone as big as you wearing what you are isn't terrifying.” She sassed back.

Wade just sighed dramatically and took off the glass and hood. “Happy?” He asked, his voice tense as he looked at the others still watching. He was covered in scars but that isn't what caused the others to come up short. No what caused that was the fact that was fucking Deadpool.

Everyone looked to one another alarmed but Deadpo-Wade just ignored them as he looked back at a smiling Vanessa. “There's the man I know, come on I'll call on the way, when are we eating?” She asked as she started walking and Wade hurried to catch up cursing as he went.

The next day the office was abuzzed with questions. She answered some of them and ignored others. She had been with Wade before he was Deadpool and then after. They had split on good terms and had just grown apart romantically, but she still said they considered themselves best friends.

Her new boyfriend didn't care they were close because he trusted her and also not that it mattered but Wade had another partner now anyways. They were really close sure, but they didn't have any romantic feelings.

When asked about Wade's new partner she just shrugged and said they'd meet them eventually.

It was a few weeks later when they did in fact meet the partner. They were all leaving and there was a motorcycle idling outside. A man was leaning next to it in flannel jeans and a leather jacket. Vanessa had just smiled when she saw him, “Logan good to see you.” She called as she walked over to him.

He smiled and showed off too sharp teeth, “Hey Ness.” He greets easily as he gives her a hug and rubs his face on her. She giggles and wacks him lightly, “That shit tickles asshole.” She grouches.

He rolls his eyes at that. Vanessa graciously ignores it, “How's Wade?” She asked and the man just groaned. “Obnoxious as always but fine, he's at Sister Margaret's collecting money for a job we did.” He explained as he took off his jacket and handed it to Vanessa who put it on.

It swallowed her completely but she didn't seem to mind. Logan got onto the motorcycle and Vanessa was quick to join him wrapping her arms around his waist. They were off moments later leaving the stunned group to share shock looks.

“W-was that the Wolverine?” Someone asked in complete shock. “I think it was.” Another answered in a whisper.

Vanessa had been questioned about Logan and had admitted that yes he was Wade's new partner. She didn't explain more than that no matter how many times they asked.

It was another month before anything else interesting happened. That being a young lady who showed up. She had asked for Vanessa and it didn't take long for Vanessa to come and see what she wanted.

“Laura hey I didn't expect to see you here. Are you okay? What happened?” Vanessa asked as she approached and looked the girl over. She allows Vanessa to look her over but reassures that she's fine and nothing happened.

“Just wanted to know if I could hang here until you get done. Papá and Pop are being obnoxious and are probably going to fight and I personally don't want to see the aftermath.” She explained and Vanessa had just laughed, “I'm sure it will be fine we've only got an hour left.” Vanessa told her.

A few people shared worried looks but figured if it was really bad they wouldn't be laughing about it. Laura was a kind young lady who seemed out of her depth with her sounding and stuck close to Vanessa. Laura looked almost identical to Logan which didn't go unnoticed but people refrained from commenting about it.

Laura didn't cause any issues and even helped Vanessa with a few things before the day's end. Vanessa thanked her for the help and she smiled happily showing off familiar too sharp teeth. They left together and it was Monday before they got answers.

As they suspected Laura was Logan's daughter and thus Wade's too. Vanessa explained she was really happy for Wade because he'd always wanted a kid. Apparently he was amazing with Laura which most people were dubious at but no one said anything.

Vanessa never became less mysterious if anything it was the opposite. The more they learn the more questions they had.

Tags: @twoarrsandonesea

Added stuff and posted it to ao3

[wlwsoccerfics]

Didn't expect that! (Arsenal WomenXCatleyReader)

Summary: you are nowhere to be found on the Arsenal training grounds. Your mom is worried. you are not the only one missing though...

Steph, your Mom walked into the changing room, looking around. "Has anyone seen y/n?" She asked.

"No, last time i saw her was at lunch!" Kyra replied. Everyone agreed that this was the last time they have seen you.

"Willa might know more." Caitlin replied.

Katie and Caitlin looked around for their daughter Willa because the two of are like best Friends. Only for them to notice that she was gone as well.

"okay this Is weird! She isn't here either!" Katie answered.

Kyra texted you & Willa.

"i texted them. Maybe they will reply." Kyra stated.

"how did we manage to lose both Arsenal Babies?" Leah asked.

"i have no idea! But drills start in 10 minutes so we better go find them!" Caitlin replied. Steph was worried right now since it was your first Training back after you were out for a week due to a concussion.

"yes let's find them. I Hope y/n is okay. What If she had a dizzy spell? Could be a late aftermath of her concussion!" Steph told the team.

"let's not think about that right now! I am sure both of them are okay!" Lia replied.

They were in the middle of forming groups and talking about which group was gonna Look in which area of the Training grounds. Before they could even start searching Reneé walked in with Y/n & Willa. Both of them were blushing like crazy and wearing the other ones Training top. Which was visible due to Willa sporting y/n's number on the from and vice versa.

"i assume you guys are looking for these two." The Arsenal Coach said y she couldn't help but smile slightly.

The Team stared at them.

"Baby McFoord is making out with my sister!" Kyra answered in shock. Everyone else was staring at the two youngest Team members. The two were 16 years old.

"y/n Lilith Catley! Where have you been? And why are you and Willa wearing eachothers clothes?" Steph wanted to know. Not that she couldn't put two and two together hut she wanted to hear it from you.

You were trying your best to avoid eye contact with everyone but especially your mom. Before you could say anything Caitlin spoke up.

"i can't believe you two are wandering off to...do whatever this Is!" She said and sighed softly.

"what even is this?" Katie wanted to know.

"we are a couple!" Willa explained.

"it's true. We have been together for six months!" You admitted.

"and your hormones are all over the place so the two of you made out at work..." Katie stated.

"i think we need to talk about boundaries with you girls!" Steph told you.

"Like no closed doors during sleepovers for example!" Caitlin answered and sighed softly.

Beth looked at the three moms.

"maybe you Guys Talk to your daughters about that after practice!" She suggested. Lia nodded her head in agreement.

"i agree with Beth. The poor girls don't need their entire business Out in the Open to the entire Team! They are allowed some privacy!" Lia answered. You and Willa both looked at them. Silently mouthing 'thank you' at the two.

"okay..let's do some drills, Girls!" Reneé said, she was still standing in the doorway. "After Training the parenting can continue!" She told the team.

Drills were a good distraction and you really enjoyed doing them. You always liked drills but especially now because you could avoid talking to your mom about all the new rules and about Willa. This was probably gonna be worse then the sex talk your Mom gave you when you were 14 years old.

A few hours later you were Home, sitting on the couch. Your mom sitting next to you. Her hand on your knee.

"y/n, i am happy that you found someone you care about so deeply, but i don't want you to sneak around with her behind my back." She told you.

Kyra walked over and sat down as well.

"we are so disappointed in you!" She told you, grinning softly. She tried to take the piss out of you and you knew it.

"funny!" You replied and jumped up from the couch wanting to jump on her.

"y/n! Kyra! Stop!" Your mom answered. You and Kyra often act like siblings. She often stayed over, like she did today.

It took a while before you continued the talk. You promised Steph not to sneak around with Willa anymore & that there would be no sleepover without supervision anymore. Which meant no closed doors. You agreed on the rules. Cause it wasn't like you had a choice.

The next day before Training was interesting. Cause you were sitting in one of the conference rooms with your Mom, Caitlin, Katie & Willa. Having the talk again.

"so we agree on the rules?" Katie asked. You looked at Willa. Biting down on your bottom lip. It wasn't like you had much of a say there.

"uh you guys don't leave us much of a choice!.it's not what we want!" Willa answered with a sigh escaping her lips.

Caitlin gave her daughter a look that was filled with surprise because Willa barely spoke up. Which sure was unexpected given that she was Katies daughter. Katie always stood up for herself and the team.

"so what do you want?" Caitlin wanted to know.

"freedom! We don't want you Guys to watch us like Hawks! It's not like we can get pregnant or anything! We are very Safe with our bodies and minds! We just want to have a normal relationship. Like Teenagers have! Our Jobs are already quite unique! So at least let us have a normal relationship. Let us be Teenagers! Let us make mistakes!" You finshed off your rant.

Your mom looked really impressed, so did Katie and Caitlin. And Willa looked really proud of you.

"fine. but please be careful! Don't do anything risky!" Caitlin replied.

"don't get arrested for example! It's what she means!" Steph said and sighed softly. "I hate seeing my Baby so grown Up! It's hard for me!" Your mom admitted.

"i will always be your Baby, Mom. No matter what!" You let her know and got up to hug her. She hugged you back. You talked a little more before getting ready for practice.

[vigilante-3073]

I LOVE YOUR HOUSE FICS

I really hope you’ll agree to write my request

Can you please write a Gregory house x reader in which they have a honeymoon or a just a romantic getaway to Paris that they have been planning for a while so reader tries to learn French between patients, (maybe reader is a department head as well?) and also practices at home; like during breakfast and in bed before they go to bed. Anyway, house being house makes fun of her and keeps telling reader to stop because he speaks multiple languages and reader gets annoyed at him and mad

Thanks in advance and have an awesome day ♥️

Est-ce Que Je Rougis?

Gregory House x Doctor Female Reader

Summary: In preparation for the trip of her dreams, Y/N decides to learn some French.

TW: Translations brought to you by Google Translate, House being House, playful arguing, annoyance.

Y/N and House had been married for three months and had finally gotten around to booking their honeymoon. Y/N had always wanted to go to Paris and House was happy to go along with her.

House already spoke the language and he could act as a translator for his wife. Y/N didn't like the idea and decided to start learning the language on her own.

Only problem, she sucked.

Y/N tried incredibly hard, but her pronunciations bordered on slander and House found it hilarious. Y/N got a few language apps on her phone and completed lessons daily both at work and home.

Whenever she had a break between patients, she would devote some time to learning the language. Y/N even watched videos online, desperately hoping to fix her pronunciations and better herself.

House couldn't contain himself when he heard her speaking French. He either laughed, made a joke or responded with the correct pronunciation, which was often met with a scowl.

House knew that the language apps were not setting her up to be able to hold a conversation, but he let her do whatever she wanted.

Y/N spent weeks working on her French, she sat with her back leaned against the headboard in their bed, mumbling along to her daily lesson. House could barely keep the smile off his face as she attempted multiple pronunciations, never voicing the correct one.

"Do you even know what you're saying right now?" He questioned.

"House, we've talked about this," She sighed.

"Est-ce que je rougis? Means 'am I blushing'? What good is that phrase gonna do you in a real conversation?" House asked.

"What about when someone asks if I'm enjoying life with my new husband? Oh, wait, he's already pissing me off," She said.

"If you want to learn a lanuage, you should take an actual class. The apps are just giving you random fluff," House said.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "Well, you always know what's best, don't you?" She muttered.

"I speak roughly eleven languages, when it comes to this, I know what I'm talking about. But you, my dear, have absolutely no clue what you're saying," House said.

"Then help me. Teach me," Y/N said.

"You sure you're interested in that?" House asked.

"If it keeps you from screwing with me, then yes," Y/N said.

"What if I do it for the sole purpose of screwing with you?" House questioned.

"That wouldn't be very nice and I might just offer to take Wilson to Paris instead of you," Y/N said.

"Fine, you got a deal," House nodded.

....

Y/N made her way into the bedroom, she crossed her arms as she looked at her husband. House glanced over at her from the tv, "Need something, honey?" He questioned.

"You were supposed to teach me French tonight. Did you forget?" Y/N asked.

"No, I was waiting for you," House said, turning off the television and setting the remote aside.

"Step into my classroom," He said, gesturing to the bed.

Y/N made her way to her side of the bed and climbed in, settling with her back against the headboard.

House scooted back across the mattress, leaning against the headboard. He reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to himself.

"What are you doing?" Y/N questioned.

"I have a theory and I'm testing it," He said.

"Does your theory have anything to do with teaching me French?" Y/N asked.

"It does, I assure you. How do you introduce yourself in French?" He questioned.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Y/N," She answered, he nodded.

House brushed her hair off her neck, pressing a gentle kiss to her skin. He brushed the tip of his nose against the side of her neck, breathing in the scent of her perfume. House pressed another couple kisses to her skin, his thumb slipping under the material of her top.

"W-what are you doing?" Y/N mumbled, suddenly feeling breathless.

"Teaching you. How do you ask where the restroom is?" House questioned.

Y/N huffed a laugh, "This is ridiculous," She muttered.

"Answer the question," House said.

"Où se trouvent les toilettes?" Y/N said.

He nodded, "Good," House mused, pressing another couple kisses to her skin. His hand slipped under her shirt, his palm feeling hot against her side.

"You're distracting me," Y/N stated.

"No, I'm rewarding you. Every right answer gets you some action, Missus House... Or we could skip the lesson and get right to what to really want," He offered.

"What do you think I really want?" Y/N questioned.

"You want to learn about another valued French art," He said.

"What would that be?" Y/N asked.

"Their kiss," House stated, turning her face towards his and connecting their lips.

...

Y/N had given up on her lessons after that night, instead choosing to let House do the translating when they went on their honeymoon. He liked the idea of being able to look out for his wife and it also helped that she loved to see him speak other languages.

Y/N sat across from him at their candlelit dinner in the heart of Paris. They had spent the day sightseeing, visiting well-known locations in the area. House struggled when it came to walking long distances or standing for any length of time, but he did what he could.

Y/N never pushed him, he wanted her to have every experience that she hoped to have and was willing to endure some discomfort for a few days. House asked Y/N what she wanted to eat, relaying it simply to the waiter in flawless French that had his wife swooning.

She stared at him from across the table, sipping on her glass of wine as she watched him speak. Languages came so easily to him that it was almost unfair.

House had always been good at sophisticated things, hunkering down and teaching himself whatever he could. House always had a thirst for knowledge and worked to master everything he didn't know. House looked up at his wife across the table, he smirked when he met her gaze.

"I like the look that you're giving me, Doctor House. But if you don't stop playing footsie with me, we're not going to make it through dinner," He said.

"Are you saying that you don't want dessert before dinner?" Y/N questioned.

"I would love nothing more, but I am pretty hungry. Athletes gotta fuel up," House said.

"Fine, I'll let you enjoy your dinner. Weather forecast calls for rain tomorrow anyway," Y/N said, taking a sip of her wine.

"Why would that matter?" House asked.

"I don't need my new husband slipping on wet concrete. I think it would be better to keep you safe in our bed instead," Y/N answered.

"That is the best idea you've ever had," House smiled, picking up his glass and lightly clinking it into his wife's.

The couple enjoyed their meal and shared a succulent dessert before returning to their room. They slept soundly throughout the night, waking up to the soft patter of raindrops on the windowpane.

As the weather forecast had predicted, rain poured down over Paris the next day. Y/N and House stayed in bed, tucked between the sheets together and ordering room service for every meal.

It was House's favorite day of the vacation, holding his wife close and kissing every inch of her body. He held her for hours, devoting an entire day to showing her how much he loved her. They hadn't had much time to themselves before their honeymoon and House had taken full advantage of that.

He was almost disappointed when their honeymoon finally came to an end, but he knew that he wouldn't forget their time together. He was pretty damn lucky to have the wife that he did, even if she was terrible at speaking French.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 9: Airport (R)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my own imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, so please do not copy it and claim it as your own. As always, I hope it gives you happy thoughts :)

A few hours later, you, Phoenix, and Jake stood on the tarmac at the local airport, watching as your private jet taxied in from the runway, about a thousand feet away. The three of you began walking toward the plane, the low hum of the engines gradually fading. Moments later, the engines cut off, and the door of the jet opened. The stairs were lowered, signaling that the passengers would be departing soon.

Abby steps off the plane, holding Christian in her arms. The moment he spots you, his face lights up.

“Mommy!” he yells, his voice filled with excitement.

Abby moves quickly but carefully down the stairs. Once she reaches the tarmac, she gently sets Christian down, and he takes off running toward you, arms wide. You catch him in a tight embrace, holding him close.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper, your voice thick with love.

Christian presses his chubby hands against your cheeks and plants a sloppy kiss on your face. You laugh, the sound pure and joyful.

Then his attention shifts. His eyes land on Phoenix, and his face lights up again.

“Ant Tosh!” he exclaims, reaching out for her with eager arms.

Phoenix smiles, lifting Christian into her arms. “Hey, kiddo!” she greets warmly. They share a tight hug, and he gives her a sloppy kiss, too. Phoenix grins. “I miss those kisses, buddy. Look what I got you.” She pulls out a stuffed toy plane.

“Pain!” he exclaims excitedly, reaching out for it.

“What do you say?” you gently remind him.

“Tanks, Ant Tosh,” he says with a grin.

“You’re welcome,” Phoenix replies, planting a kiss on his cheek. Christian’s attention then shifts, and his eyes narrow as he looks up at Jake.

“Who you?” he asks, his blue eyes studying Jake with a stern expression.

You chuckle softly. “C.J., this is Jake,” you explain. “He’s a friend of mommy’s and Aunt Tosh’s.”

Jake smiles warmly. “Hey, little man. It’s nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand toward Christian.

Christian places the toy plane in his left hand and then shyly reaches out with his right, shaking Jake’s hand. “Nice meet you,” he says earnestly.

Jake chuckles. “Oh, you’re going to be a lady killer, Mr. Charmer.”

As Jake and Phoenix chat with Christian, you walk over to Abby.

“You got everything?”

“Yes, Doctor Astor.”

“My jet will take you where you need to go. If you need anything, just call me.”

“Will do. Thank you again, Dr. Astor. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“You’re welcome. See you later.”

Abby heads toward the plane, and you turn back to Jake, Phoenix, and Christian.

“You hungry?” you ask Christian.

“Getty!” he replies enthusiastically.

“Spaghetti?”

Phoenix grins, tapping Christian’s nose with her finger. “You’re in luck, buddy. I know a great place that serves spaghetti.”

With that, the four of you begin walking toward Phoenix’s car.

Later that night, Christian had fallen asleep in his car seat on the way home from dinner. You were about to reach for him, but Jake glanced over at you.

“I’ll get him. You grab his bags.”

“Thanks.”

You took Christian’s bags, watching Jake carefully unbuckle the harness of the car seat and lift him onto his shoulder. Christian let out a soft groan, but soon settled, making himself comfortable against Jake’s shoulder.

You walked toward the apartment door, which Phoenix held open for you, and into the spare bedroom.

“On the bed, please,” you whispered, motioning gently.

Jake carefully laid Christian down on the bed as you began getting his pajamas ready.

“Christian really took to you,” you commented as you slipped the pajamas on him.

“He’s a great kid. You’ve been raising him right,” Jake replied.

You smiled as you finished dressing Christian. “Thank you.”

Jake stepped closer. “May I?”

“Sure,” you murmured. You kissed Christian’s cheek before Jake carefully picked him up and placed him gently into the crib.

You looked at Christian’s face, and for a moment, it took your breath away—he was the spitting image of his father. The sight warmed your heart in a way you hadn’t expected.

“So, black hair and blue eyes. He must look a lot like his...”

“Father,” you interrupted softly, finishing Jake’s sentence.

“How’d you meet him?” Jake asked softly.

You looked at him, a laugh escaping your lips. “A bar, believe it or not.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his gaze. “A bar? That’s where you two crossed paths? Doesn’t sound like the typical love story. Especially for a rich guy."

You smiled warmly as you sat on the edge of the bed, Jake following suit and sitting next to you.

“I was in Alabama for school, helping with a study. One night, a group of friends, including Phoenix, decided to go out.”

Jake chuckled, his gaze fixed on you as he leaned back slightly, clearly intrigued. "Alabama, huh? That’s a long way from home. What happened?"

You laughed softly, the memory coming back with a clarity that still made you smile. “I wasn’t really in the mood to go out, but Phoenix convinced me, like she always does. We ended up at this small bar on the edge of town. Nothing fancy. But there he was, sitting at the bar like he owned the place. A little too good-looking, a little too confident, and all too interested in the fact that I was just... different.”

Jake raised his eyebrows. “Different?”

You nodded thoughtfully. “I wasn’t part of his world. He was training to be an Apache helicopter pilot—that’s all I knew about him. I didn’t even know he was rich.”

Jake’s eyes widened slightly, clearly intrigued. “So, he was just a guy training for the military, and you didn’t know he had money?”

You smiled at his disbelief. “Nope. I wasn’t concerned with that at all. I was just focused on my studies and doing the research. And honestly? I didn’t really think I had time for a guy like him. But when Phoenix pushed me to go out with her, I ended up running into him. And, well, we started talking.”

Jake leaned forward slightly, his tone teasing. “And let me guess—he was all charm, right?”

You chuckled, remembering the way Christian had made his first move. “Yeah, but it wasn’t just charm. He didn’t try to impress me with his money or his status. He was different. Quiet, humble, but still with this undeniable confidence. And that, I guess, was what caught my attention.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Huh. And then?”

You paused for a moment, the memory feeling both distant and fresh at the same time. “We spent hours talking that night. And I’m not gonna lie—it was the best conversation I’d had in a long time. We clicked. But I still didn’t know who he really was. It wasn’t until later that night when I found out just how much he had been holding back.”

Jake smiled knowingly. “Figures. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “You’d think so, but he wasn’t quiet in the usual way. He wasn’t afraid to share his thoughts, his hopes, his dreams. He just didn’t put on a front. It was refreshing. And then, when he told me about his family and what he was training for, it hit me—he was part of this world I had no idea about.”

Jake leaned back slightly, giving you space to continue. “And you didn’t freak out?”

You smiled at the thought. “No, not really. I think I was more shocked by how real he was than anything else. And we just kept talking... and the rest, as they say, is history.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “I guess it wasn’t just the helicopter that took your heart.”

You smiled warmly, looking down at the floor for a moment. “No. It wasn’t.” You paused, lifting your gaze back to him.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” Jake asked, his voice full of sincerity.

You nodded slowly, your heart tightening as the memory of Christian filled your mind. “Yeah, I did. I loved him more than I even knew was possible. He was my best friend, my partner... everything.”

Jake's expression softened, and he gave you a moment of quiet understanding, his gaze steady and warm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been. Losing someone like that.”

You let out a breath, trying to hold back the wave of emotions that were never too far from the surface. “It still is hard. Every day. But, I had him, and I’ll always carry that with me. Especially with Christian Junior. I think that’s what keeps me going.”

Jake didn’t say anything for a beat, just watched you carefully, as though weighing his next words.

“I get it,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, “the fear of losing someone. But what you had with him, Y/N... that doesn’t just disappear. It stays with you.”

You met his eyes again, this time not as a woman trying to guard her heart, but as someone who felt the weight of everything you had been through—and yet still found the strength to move forward.

“Thank you, Jake,” you whispered, not just for what he said, but for the way he seemed to understand, without needing to press further.

He gave a small nod, his voice softer now, “Anytime.”

Jake looks at you, his gaze softening. He reaches out, cupping your face in his hand, and gently pulls you in for a kiss.

“Come meet my parents next week,” he blurts out, his tone almost a mix of hope and certainty, when you part.

“Are you serious?”

“Darlin', you should know the answer to that by now.”

You hesitate, your thoughts racing. “Jake, I don’t know. I’ve got Christian, and…”

“My mom already knows about you and Christian. Bring him. My niece and nephew will play with him, and my mom will adore him.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” He gazes lovingly into your eyes, his sincerity clear.

"I'll think about it. Let's just get through this week," you say, your voice tinged with uncertainty but warmth.

Jake grins, his expression playful. "Sounds good to me."

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