#back home i was scared of the traffic here I’m scared of having the teacher laugh at me 💀

[the-sn0wy-0wl]

Just applied for a librarian job 🤞🏻

[turcott3]

goes without saying

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, fluff, talks of anxiety, kissing

masterlist

-

“thanks mom.” you say hopping out of the car.

“now let’s hope he shows up huh?” she teases, waving to you as you walked to your ballet studio. it was being your boyfriend to class day, except you didn’t have a boyfriend. so you invited the next best thing, your highschool best guy friend. whom you’d also had a major crush on for the last few years.

you asked him to come, which he agreed, but said he’d have to come straight after his post practice shower and who knows how long that could be. and he was your ride home.

you stood awkwardly in class as everyone chatted with their boyfriends, one of your class friends included. you checked your apple watch a few times hoping for a text or something and your anxiety only grew as you got nothing. a few minutes later class had begun and you sighed. knowing you’d have to be standing in the back practicing something else, since this week was all about lifts for big performances, being in class was almost something you dreaded these days. ballet being something you love while also tearing you apart. you began warm ups at the barre as normal, still holding out hope that he would come. you continued your warm up, making it all the way through barre and out into center, eventually accepting that he wasn’t gonna show, before the door creeped open, matt peering in to make sure he was in the right place, smiling once his eyes landed on you.

“so sorry i’m late ma’am, lot of traffic.” he smiles at your teacher as he joins you by your side.

“i heard you play hockey? and you were coming here after practice.”

“yes maam.”

“well good, means you’re still nice and warm. when did you two get together, i feel like i’ve never seen you together.” she teases, him taking it extremely well as he dropped an arm over your shoulder.

“well, i don’t really think there’s a date, we were friends and then suddenly we just knew we were more than that. and now here we are.” he replies and your heart jolts in your chest.

he made up that lie on the spot, to spare you the embarrassment. you shook it off knowing you were never actually more than that, even if you maybe have thought at some points you were.

“thank you for coming, i was so nervous to be the only person without a partner.”

“come on y/n, i told you i’d be here. i’ll always show up.” he giggles.

“alright now that we have everyone we can begin our simple lifts.” your teacher states. you were nervous because you had never done partner lifts before, and matt is 6 foot 7.

“oooooh i’m lifting you.” he teases.

“i’ve never done lifts before, im scared.”

“you know i’d never drop you.”

“i know, i know.” you said grabbing comfortably on his arm.

this class was not going to help your feelings toward him at all. you’ve had a crush on him for quite sometime and now he’s gonna have his hands planted on you for at least the next hour. the two of you stood and listened, soaking in the instructions of a simple lift. simply picking you up and holding your chest in line with his forehead, to get a feel for how the rest of class will go.

with ease, he picks you up, chest to eye level.

“don’t be looking.” you smile.

“i am respectfully looking because your black leotard is all i can see.” he says, practically feeling the vibrations of his voice on your ribcage.

“now if you’re feeling frisky, hold her up higher.” you teacher suggests, matt instantly boosting you up above his head like simba in the lion king.

“holy shit.” you yelp, grabbing harshly onto his arms.

“relax, everything is gonna be fine.” he giggles, bringing you to him as he brought you back down, standing flush against his chest.

“alright now let’s try holding her above your head like you’ve just done, but with her in arabesque. your one hand will grab hold of her thigh and the other on the hip somewhere between the bottom of her ribcage and her hip bone.” your teacher says.

“which leg do you like?” he asks, asking great questions.

“right.” you said, lifting your right leg off the ground, his hand softly cupping underneath.

“this feel okay?” he asks, referring to the hand holding your inner thigh.

“yes, it feels good.” you nod as he places his other hand on your hip.

“okay, are you ready?” he asks and you agree, him steadily lifting you off the ground. you found yourself in the position high above his head, adjusting your position to be more comfortable. you began to shake in discomfort, him dropping you slightly but instantly catching you, a giggle leaving his lips as the teachers voice rose again, his arm placing delicately around your waist, his hand rested gently on your hip. in response, you rested your hand on top of his, giving his hand a light squeeze.

by the time class was nearly over, you became more comfortable with him picking you up. the last lift you tried being the riskiest, you still trusted him, catching you every time you began to fall.

this class was not helping your case.

“now let’s come center for reverence.” your teacher says, matt placing you carefully back on the floor.

“i am not graceful at all.” he mumbles as you both followed her curtsy.

“this is why you don’t do ballet matt.” you giggle, concluding your class. matt began to walk away before you grabbed his hand, pulling you up close to the teacher and thanking her.

“oh uh, thank you for having me maam, i had a lot of fun.”

“well thank you for coming! i don’t think i’ve ever seen y/n smile this much during class. keep it up matt, you seem to be good for her.” she smiles, thank you both for attending before you exit the building out to matt’s car.

“im sorry again for being late.” he says, taking your bag from you and tossing it in his back seat.”

“it’s okay, i’m just glad you came.” you replied as you both sat in his car.

“i had a lot of fun.” he smiles.

“you know, you didn’t have to lie to her about us being together. you didn’t have to spare my embarrassment.”

“well i said it because i wanted to, not just to spare you.” he says pulling out of the parking lot.

“what do you- what do you mean?” you ask, spiraling.

“i guess that was me trying to make it known that i really fucking like you, and i was excited when you asked me to come do this with you.” he replies. you reach for his hand that rested on his thigh and moved it to your lap, intertwining your fingers as you smiled to yourself, his thumb brushing softly back and forth on the back of your hand.

“i like you a lot too matt.” you say, looking at his perfect side profile.

“glad we’re in the same page.” he giggles, bringing your conjoined hands to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. a blush burned on your face as he returned your hands to yourself lap.

“what a relief.” you giggle, giving his hand a little squeeze which he returned.

“do you really not ever smile that much in class?” he asks genuinely.

“well not really, i don’t really feel as close to my classmates and stuff. i don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“no no y/n, it’s not stupid. i get it. well if you want, and if you can, how about i come pick you up after your class every week and i take us out to eat? yeah? anything to keep you smiling.” he offers kindly.

“i mean, that would definitely be okay with me.” you reply.

everything he was doing made your heart leap in your chest, knowing now how much he really cared for you.

“do you wanna come over?” you ask abruptly.

“like tonight?” he asks, pulling to a stop at the restaurant you’d agreed to eat at the day prior, it being both of your favorite restaurant.

“yeah, like do you wanna stay over? listen i’m trying to be bold, i don’t really know if it’s working.” you giggle nervously. smoothly, he closes the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s working.” he smiles, pecking your lips one more time before you both get out of the car.

you spent the dinner gushing over each other, adoring how much he spoke lovingly of his family. the closer you got, the more your feelings grew for the boy.

“matt you don’t have to pay for me.” you say lowly, the server asking how to do the check.

“i’m paying for it, sorry for the confusion maam.” he says to the server, turning his head back to you as he walked away.

“why are you paying for me?” you ask sternly.

“because this is a date isn’t it? it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to not pay.” he giggles, signaling for you to take his hands in the table, much to your dismay, you found your hands rested in his large ones.

“let me take care of you. i know you aren’t doing the best right now y/n. i may be a man, but i’m not blind, especially when i see a girl i really fucking care about struggling, okay?” he says firmly, sighing with contentment as he finished his sentence.

“okay.” you reply softly, letting go of his hands as the server returned with the check.

-

“you really are letting this thing get to you huh?” he asks as you lay on his chest, tracing circles on his skin as you cuddled innocently, both in your pajamas ready to sleep for the night.

“yeah i guess i am.” you reply, telling him about how torn you were about ballet.

“well how about this, you tell me when your next performance is, i will be there front row to watch you. i want you to keep going pretty girl, i just know you’re incredible. i wanna help you.” he says, running his gentle fingers up and down your back.

“thank you matt. i think just from class today that’s a big stride.” you giggle.

“i hope so.”

“anyways, why don’t we talk about something other than me before we go to sleep.”

“well why would i want to, i could listen to it all day.” he teases, a hint of genuineness behind his teasing tone.

“no, it’s selfish.” you giggle. the two of you spent the rest of the night talking about hockey, giggling over your favorite movies and shows and him listening to your college gossip. all stuff he didn’t know about but loved to hear anyway.

“i think it’s about time we go to sleep y/n.” he giggles after hours of chatting lovingly with you.

“yeah i guess your right.”

“but i can’t let you go to sleep like this.” he replies and you cock your eyebrow. he pulls himself away from you, laying on his side to face you.

“i have a question.” he says and your stomach drops.

“okay?”

“would you wanna maybe fall asleep tonight and wake up tomorrow, and like maybe spend forever and more as my girlfriend?” he smiles slowly as the words left his lips.

“yes matt, i would love to.” you giggle, your hands cupping his cheeks.

“sorry if that was tacky, i didn’t wanna be basic.” he giggles, pulling you toward him.

“it was perfect, thank you m’love.” you say pulling his lips to yours anxiously.

“anytime. now you better keep a smile on your face from now on, and i mean it. if you have any problems just come to me, you know i would never in a million years judge you, and also, i would love to come to ballet class again, it was a lot of fun.” he says resting his head on top of yours.

“i will matt, i promise you. and i will definitely let you know, who knows you may be the next big thing.”

“well i know i have a b-“

“now is not the time for a dirty joke asshole.” you giggle smacking him on the arm.

“i mean after all i AM just a man okay? dirty mind and all.” he scoffs.

“and it doesn’t change a single thing i feel for you.” you laugh as he kisses you one last time before you both drift off to sleep.

[toulousewayne]

Batfam Shenanigans Headcannons: Pt 6

When the League first took shape it was understood they should anyone need assistance in their own personal cities that someone would respond. By this point Superman and Batman had teamed up the most so it was understood that Batman Could work with others in Gotham he just prefer to bleed out first.

The first time the league met Robin it was kinda surprising. Batman entered the Watchtower and the League noticed the traffic signal dressed boy behind him.

“Spooky, whatcha got there?” Hal raised a brow.

“A dark Roast.” He drank his coffee.

“He meant the boy Bats.” Barry clarifies.

“I’m Robin.”

“….”

“…..”

“…..”

“Can you play games with your ring Mr. Lantern?” He beamed.

“We can keep him.” Hal replied.

The first time Green Arrow and Black Canary visited the cave they were met the a excited Robin who was happy that Batman let someone visit. Batman didn’t share the excitement.

During a mission Wonder Woman, Flash, and Hawkgirl visit the cave and come across the little gremlin that is Robin.

“Hello child, where is Bruce?” Diana beamed at the child. Dick munching on a cookie points behind him to Bruce hunched over at the Batcomputer. The group walk to him and he’s covered in bandages.

“You look like crap.” Diana pokes his side.

“I fought Bane and was thrown off the rooftop. But thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Is there more cookies?” Flash asks.

A few years later when Batgirl joins Bruce, she’s immediately taken in by Dinah.

“Right hook.”

“Remember your center don’t expose yourself to an opponent.” Dinah calls out to Batgirl.

“You’re a great teacher Dinah.”

“Very kind, but we still have much work to do little Bat. Are you up for it?”

“Bring it.”

It’s comical how some of the Robin will just appear out of thin air. Hal walks into his room to find Robin (Tim) studying the Lantern battery. “Lost kid?”

“No.”

“…you bats always like this?”

“Like what?”

Clark doesn’t notice a Robin clinging to his leg like a baby kola bear.

“Uncle Clark can we get—“

“Ahhhhh, oh it’s just you.”

“You didn’t know I was here?” Dick looks up at him.

“Sorry, kiddo. I’m think we should get you a bell.”

“Okie.”

“So, the bag of heads. Were they real?” Barry asks between bits of chili dog.

“…I was a little theatrical back then.” Red Hood hums.

“But they were fake, right?”

“….”

Ollie can’t go five feet with other Spoiler and Black Bat following him like shadows.

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to be honored or terrified.”

“Both.” Cass replies.

“Father says you come from Mars, I’ve been told your people were intelligent and superior race. I wish to learn about your home planet.”

“Very well.” J’onn nods at Robin.

The Question enters his room to find his last three unsolved cases, solved and a fresh cup of coffee. He knows it’s the third Robin. He would always sneak off and go over clues with him while Batman was busy with the others.

HawkGirl and Spoiler love sparring together. They both find it entertaining watching the other women push herself and learn from one another.

Bart and Konner are the least bit surprised to find Tim at the computer screen in the exact same spot. They spend the next forty minutes trying to get Tim to take a break because he hasn’t blink once since they left him to go watch Jon’s baseball game.

Damian and Jason spend every Sunday together. It’s actually funny because Damian will agree to plans with Dick or Jon and cancel last minute because he and Jason are reading the next several chapters of a novel and munching on Cinnamon rolls Jason baked that day. Alfred the cat is invited too.

Sometimes Cass likes to keep tabs on her family, she has been known to scare the Justice League by watching Batman from the shadows. She enjoys scaring Superman the most. Bruce enjoys this too.

Donna and Wally are Dick’s emergency contacts. Bruce finds this a little hurtful but doesn’t question it. Donna is also Dick’s Power of Attorney incase someone needs to handle important matters for him should he be unable to do so.

Out of all of Dick’s OG team Damian likes Garth the best.

Starfire and Babs had a rocky start to the relationship but no the two are thick as thieves. They go to little shops together and movies. And they truly do have a sisterly bond, Kori will berate stores for not including wheelchair access and providing disabled bathrooms. Barbara has had break two guys hands from trying to get fresh while Kori was clothes shopping. The two even have weekly movie nights at the Clocktower.

[elisysd]

Out of the Woods

Cruel Summer Masterlist

Charles teaches Lyanna how to drive

Remember when you hit the brakes too soon?

“I’m really not sure about this Charles. Like, not at all.”

“Hey you passed the theory easily, love. First try may I add, and we worked together on the sim for so many hours, you’ll be fine. I promise. And you have me as your teacher, nothing can go wrong.” Charles tried to reassure her.

“So many things can go wrong. I can crash us both and then Julia will be an orphan. And Pierre will be in charge of taking care of her. Pierre, Charles! Pierre! What went wrong in our heads to decide that he would be a great godfather?”

“He is a great godfather! He is spoiling her. But really, breathe, love. It will be fine, you got this.”

“I’m scared, Charles.”

“I’m right here Lya and if something goes wrong, I’ll take the wheel. But I trust you.”

“Why didn’t we try an empty parking lot for my first time? Why did it have to be the track of the Monaco GP?”

“Because if you can manage it, love, you’ll manage anything.”

“Easy for you to say.”

When Lyanna told Charles a few months ago that she wanted to get her driver’s licence so it would be easier to drive Julia to school as they were living on the side of Monaco, Charles had not given her any other choice but to be her instructor. Whenever he got a little time between two races he had taken his role very seriously making Lyanna train on his simulator for two hours per day until he deemed her ready to hit the road. And the day had finally come.

Charles tried his best to reassure her, telling her that they would go easy for the first time. But to Lyanna, easy definitely didn’t mean the track of the Monaco GP. She knew it pretty well because of Charles and the amount of time they had spent driving along, both together and then with Julia. She didn’t know it by heart, of course, but she roughly knows the turns and where they were.

“How can you trust me with your Pista?” she asked with a shaky voice.

“I trust you with my life, love.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Come on drama queen, start the engine and let’s go.”

And she did as told. And off they were. the first few kilometers went well, at least, in her opinion. They managed to get inside the Monegasque traffic without too much inconveniences and there were no crashes in sight. Little by little, Lyanna was starting to relax. Charles, to her surprise, was not saying much, just giving her a few instruction here and there.

“Lya?” he ended up saying as they were near Sainte-Devote.

“Yes?”

“You know you drive at 30 kmph? You can go up to 50.”

“Isn’t it a bit too fast though?”

“it’s really not, love.”

She sighed and sped up as Charles told her. Two hours later and after multiple laps around Monaco, they came back home. Lyanna could already see the improvements and she was actually proud of herself for overcoming her fears. And Charles was not that bad. As they both were getting out of the car and Lyanna gave back his car’s key to her husband, a mini brunette tornado came crashing in her dad’s arms full force.

“Daddy! Mommy! You went vroom vroom without me!”

“Daddy is teaching mommy how to be an as good driver as him.” explained Lyanna as Pascale was coming through the door to greet them.

“Does it mean that you are going to leave me to go with daddy?”

“No my princess, mommy is learning how to drive so she can take you out for ice cream when daddy is away.”

“So cool!”

“What were you doing? And how was school?” asked Charles.

“She was watching Pierre’s win in Monza.” told Pascale making the little girl blush.

“Why are you watching uncle Pierre and not daddy?” Charles was faking to be offended.

“She loves the broadcast. It’s making her laugh. And she needed that after her school day.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” Worried Lyanna as she was bending down to look at her daughter, afraid she had been hurt.

“I wanted to play tag with other girls. And they told me no.”

“Why?” asked Charles.

“They said I’m weird because I don’t play with dolls with them. And I prefer cars. But then boys don’t want to play with me because I’m a girl.”

Lyanna could see Charles’ jaw harden, after hearing that. But it didn’t seem to bother Julia that much. As she was explaining further how she was cast aside by her classmates, she simply shrugged and said that it didn’t matter, she knew how to have fun by herself. Still, Charles and Lyanna’s hearts broke a little.

The next day, the parents dropped her at school, not without crossing paths with Max who was dropping Ethan. The Dutchman shot a death glare to Charles on the way that Charles reciprocated. Both of them didn’t forget the biting incident that happened a few months ago. It was well known in the paddock, ever since, that putting them both in the same room was only resulting in petty comments towards one another. Thankfully, they didn’t try to kill each other on track. At least, not yet.

When they finally left Julia at school, Lyanna took her place behind the steering wheel and drove off to an empty parking lot.

“I’m going to teach you how to park today.” said Charles very seriously.

“You what?”

“Teach you how to park?”

“Sorry I thought you were serious being for a moment.” she laughed as he gave her a puzzled look. “You can’t park to save your life Charles.”

“Hey! I got better with time!” he defended himself.

They spent an hour trying to park the car in different conditions and positions and to Charles surprise, she was good. Really good. Better than him that’s for sure. Not that it was hard.

Days passed and training sessions with Charles resumed. When Lyanna finally felt ready she passed her test and got her result a few weeks later. Charles was not there but she decided to sent him as screenshot telling him that she finally had her driver’s license. Charles was so proud of his wife that he didn’t hesitate much before adding her as a driver on his car assurance contract.

If at first Lyanna was scared to use the Pista, even more with Julia, she quickly got back her confidence. Driving around Monaco was not the hardest thing to do when you knew when the traffic was hectic and when you were used to the city. And Lyanna never really needed to use the car that much, only to bring Julia to school and to pick her up. As for the groceries, she avoided going and would rather use the delivery option. It was easier and it prevented people from stopping her in the alleys to ask for a picture. But today, she had promised to Julia they would bake a cake together and she needed ingredients.

The supermarket parking lot was more crowded than usual and Lyanna had to spent at least 15 minutes turning and turning in the hopes of finding space. She finally found one away from the entry of the shop and tried to park the Pista. It was not easy, the space was not very big and the car next to her was not very well parked. But after a small amount of tries, which she was very proud of, she finally managed to park the car.

She tried to be quick, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in the supermarket. She bought what she needed and even added to her cart sweets for Julia and make her way to pay. Once done, she got back to the car and almost had heart attack when she saw a scratch on the driver side door. Panic started to take over her body when she will have to explain to Charles how she managed to scratch his beloved car. But she knew the sooner she let the cat out the bag, the better she would feel.She checked her phone and texted him to know if she could call him before putting down her phone on the passenger seat and making her way back home.

When she pulled up in the driveway, she saw a notification from her husband popping up. She sighed, get out of the car, took out the groceries from the trunk and went back home. After putting everything in the cupboards and cleaning the kitchen area, she sat on the couch and called Charles.

“Hey, love. Everything’s alright?”

“Hey… no, not really. I have something to tell you.”

“Lya, you are scaring me. Are you okay? Is Julia okay? Did something happened?”

“Yeah, yeah we are okay. Don’t worry. I can’t say the same about your Pista though.”

The was a long silence at the other end of the line and Lyanna was bracing herself for the scolding.

“What happened?” he slowly said.

“I went grocery shopping. I parked the Pista, everything went well but when I came back there was a scratch. I’m sorry, I should have been more careful, the two cars were not parked well and I should have known that it could happen and…”

“Lyanna! For fuck’s sake!” he cut her.

“I’m sorry!” she was on the verge of crying.

“I thought it was worse than that! Don’t scare me like that. I thought something happened to you for a minute.”

“So you’re not angry?”

“If you’d know how many times something like that happened to me, love… Don’t worry about the Pista okay. How is Julia by the way, where is she? I want to see my princess.”

“Julia?” repeated Lyanna.

She suddenly looked up at the hour and gasped.

“Oh fuck! With everything that happened, I forgot her at school!”

“Lyanna!”

================

taglist

@zendayabelova @purplephantomwolf @ru-kru @dakotali @blueflorals @aundercover @ruleroftheuniverse @fangirlika @writerscurse @elijahmikaelsonbitch @leclerc13 @karmabyfernando @stargaryenx @pitlanebabe @boiohboii @reengard @shikshinkwon@smoooothoperator

[justxrandomxlivia]

Are you lost? - König x gn!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: None, a short fluff story where you help König to find soap.

word count: 1819

“I should have put the bigger coat on.” Complaining to myself, while I’m rushing through the park to catch the bus home. It’s a great shortcut and not so windy, due to the big trees. Even though, the trees don’t carry any leaves anymore, only a few layers of fresh snow. It’s mid-February and immense windy today. The weather forecast predicted a snow storm later that day, means I have to get home, before no bus will drive anymore.

I grip my backpack a little tighter, as I walk faster. If I don’t catch the bus, I have to wait 30 minutes and hope that the snow storm won’t come before that. Looking straight towards the end of the park, I can barely see anything around me. There not many people here today anyway. I walk past a couple of people, some with dogs, some with four layers of clothes and even a few with kids. It’s usually more crowded. Only 300 meters left and I made it to the station, it would be typically for me, if something would happen now.

And of course, just as I expected, my scarf let go of my neck and flew away, behind me. I have only throw the scarf around my neck once, cause I had to get out of the University as quick as possible. I stopped and looked back, seeing how the scarf makes it’s way up to the sky. I never catch it up there, as I follow my scarf the way back where I came from, I see how a very tall man just reached up a little bit and gripped the scarf with ease. He must be around two meters tall. He is huge! I ran to the man and he handed me the scarf over.

“Thank you so much. You are a lifesaver.” I said half out of breath. He didn’t say anything. Only nod and hid his face deeper in his own scarf.  I took my scarf and thanked him once again, before I turned around and started running. This has stolen me a lot of time, now I need to hurry. Eventually I reached the street and the bus station, when my heart scattered in a million pieces. The bus, I had to take, just turned the corner and was gone. I was a second too late. “Ah Shit!” I swear louder than I wanted. Now I had to wait. As I checked the bus plan, I swear, I wanted to bury myself. A big sign at the bus station said: ‘Last bus leaves 3:45pm. No more traffic due to snowstorm.’

It's 3:48pm. I missed the last bus for today. Face palming myself, I just set down at the bench and buried my face in my hands. This is the worst day of my life. Well, at least of this week. Guess I have to walk home then. It takes me over 45 minutes to walk home, but I can’t afford a taxi. There was so much to repair lately at my house, that I’m more than broke now. And as University teacher of advanced science, you don’t earn a golden donkey.

I got up from the bench and fixed my scarf properly, then I looked at the café across the street. I’m going to get a coffee and then I will walk home. Snowstorm or not. I can do it, I grew up on the countryside, there was way worse weather than here. After waiting for green light, I crossed the street and walk towards the coffee shop. Hm, there is this very tall man again. He is standing outside at the coffee shop, looking at his phone and checking the streets all the time. He seems nervous. Maybe I should ask if he got lost.

“Ehm, Hello sir” I said while approaching him from the side, he suddenly winced at looked at me frightened. I must have startled him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to scare you. I wanted to ask if you got lost. Because, you seem lost.” As before, he did not say a single word. He just looked at me, then looked away, then looked at me, then looked at his phone. He must be terrified by me. I should better leave him alone then. “Ehm, okay, I’m sorry to bother you. Have a great day.” I said, then making my way to the coffee shop

 “No wait. I – I am. Y-yes. I-I am lost.” He stuttered as I turned around again. He is so tall and looks very strong. I’m sure he could take down a wrestler with an ease, but he sounds so scared. I smiled at him to show him that I mean no harm. “Alright. I can help you. Where do you need to go?” I asked and walked a step closer to him. He backed off a step. Bad idea of me, I guess.

Then he showed me his phone. Reading the message of someone named ‘Soap’, it says he needs to meet the person at the west side park. This park here is the east side. He is on the wrong side of the city. Oh boy. But who calls someone soap? Not my business!

“Alright, yeah. West side park is on the other side of the city. This there, is the east side. They don’t have signs for it, so you must guess. But there is no bus going anymore today, so you can either call for a taxi and tell them west side park, or you walk.” I smiled at him again and gave him his phone back. He let out a deep sigh. He must have been wandering around here for quite some time. Then he started shaking his head. “N-no. I will, I will walk. Thanks.” He turned on his heels and started walking away from me. Oh boy…

“Sir, that’s the wrong way. It will take you 40 minutes longer to reach the park.” I called after him, I feel so sorry that I had to say that. He must feel bad now. As he heard my words, he stopped walking. I can see how he breathed heavy and turned around. I tried to show him with a warm smile that I’m not laughing about him. Then I decided to offer some more help. “Do you want me to bring you there?” I asked as he walked in my direction. He shook his head. “Not.” He paused. “Not necessary.”

Then he walked past me, this time in the right direction. I stopped him by telling him how to get to the park. “It would be no problem for me. It is on my way anyway. But okey. If you turn the corner left there, you need to follow the main street until you come across a big red house. It has green windows. It’s ugly. You can’t miss it. There you turn right and at the bridge that goes over the river, you turn left again. Then there you can see the park already. You want me to write it down for you?” I asked as I can clearly tell by his look that he has no idea what I just said.

Then he let out another deep sigh. “I- Can you.” He paused again. Why is he so scared? I’m not even looking scary, or do I. “Can you show me please.” He said at his eyes looked right through my soul. They are so pretty. So full of life. But also, sad. He looks sad and scared. As our eyes meet I realised I stopped smiling, before he could even get more terrified, I smiled instantly again and said: “Sure. Yeah, I’d love to show you. Come on.” With this I started walking, so that we were next to each other.

As we walked past the ugly red house, I had to break the silence. We have been saying nothing. The whole time. It’s time to find out who he is. “So, you are not from here, right? Might I ask where you come from?” I looked to my right to see his reaction. He looked straight at the path and answered short. “Austria.” Quick and efficient, I thought. “That’s cool! I’d love to visit Austria once. For the alps for example.” Now he looked at me confused. Was he shocked that I didn’t ask about kangaroos? I hear it so often in my class, when the Austrian kids argue with others, and have to explain they don’t come from Australia. I chuckled.

As I looked back at him, I can swear I saw him smiling behind his scarf. He has so pretty eyes when he smiles. I tried to hold up something like a conversation. “You are visiting friends here?” To be honest, I wanted to know who or what soap was. It must be a person. He cleared his throat and spoke: “Yes. I- I meet some… Friends.” That sounded sad again. I decided to stop asking him anything more, as we crossed the bridge.

I stopped at the corner after the bridge. “Alright, there we are. There you can see the park sign. You should walk in the park, there is a little fountain in the centre. There you can let your friends know where to find you. The Park is quite big, so you could get easily lost.” I waved at him, as I turned the corner to continue my way home.

“Wait.” He spoke. I turned around at him and looked at his eyes once again. “So pretty” I whispered beneath my breath. Oh shit! I must have said that out loud, because he looked suddenly extremely shocked at me. I tried to pretend that this never happened. “Do you need anything else?” I asked smiling at him awkwardly. He only shook his head slowly. “Okey, then have a good-“ He cut me off, “No-o. I-I. I wanted to.. to ask. If y-you would. Would you like to give me your number?” he almost chocked while stuttering, but then he spoke a full sentence with a confident voice.

My smile grew bigger. “Yeah. I’d love to.” He gave me his phone, after I saved myself as ‘y/n, who lost the scarf’. His phone started ringing, ‘Soap’. The screen said. I gave his phone back and told him to call me. Or text me if it’s easier for him. He smiled at me, and I waved, while turning around making my way home. He then spoke on the phone: “Yes, I’m near the park. Yes, the right park now. I got some help. I’ll be waiting at the fountain. Okey, see you there.”

I smiled. He is cute. Making my way home, the snowstorm started to pick up. I will be covered in snow once I’ll be home. It was worth it. Thanks, wind, for make me lose my scarf.

[kjmsupremacist]

something sweet, a peach tree (mark/jaehyun)

Mark begins the summer after his junior year with an unpaid internship and no other plans. But when he agrees to go pick his baby niece up from her music lessons, her teacher, Jeong Jaehyun, catches his eye. Too bad he’s off limits, and not just because Mark’s niece is involved. Jaehyun is 41 to Mark’s 20.

To sate his curiosity about older men, Mark decides to look into becoming a sugar baby. He could use the money, after all. And he seems to find a willing patron right away. But for the first time in Mark’s like, he finds he might be in over his head.

Chapter 6   |  prev   next   mlist

Characters: Mark, Jaehyun, other members of nct throughout

Genre: romance, angst, smut, age gap, sugar daddy!au

Pairing: Mark/Jaehyun

Warnings: AGE GAP (older jaehyun, younger mark), alcohol and vomit mentions

Rating: Explicit/Mature we're toeing the line here

Length: 6.4k

July passes quickly and without consequence. Mark’s life is pretty much the same—weekdays spent in the office, weekends with Jaehyun. His birthday falls on a Friday, so he’s going to James and Annie’s for dinner, and then out for drinks with Johnny and Yuta and Ten. Jaehyun was the first out of everybody he knows to wish him a happy birthday, the text coming in right at midnight. Mark is trying not to think about it, because it’s making him kind of giddy, and he doesn’t want to have to explain himself.

James picks him up from work, AC blasting in his Prius. “Mom made me promise we’d call,” he warns as he pulls out into traffic. “So I’m gonna get us together for that as soon as we get home, before Lucy gets too tired.”

“Sounds good,” Mark says, amused. 

“Speaking of Lucy,” James continues, “I was hoping to take Annie on a little vacation next weekend. Just one night, we’d leave Saturday morning and be back Sunday afternoon. Think you could watch her for us?”

“If you pay for our food,” Mark agrees. “And pick me up and drop me off.”

“Fair enough,” James says, shaking his head. “You’re hired.”

Mark laments the lost time with Jaehyun in his head, but he can’t really put his heart in it. It’ll be fun to hang out with Lucy, and she goes to bed early so he can stay up playing video games or something. Besides, Mark likes Annie, so he has to help his brother do something nice for her. 

Deals struck, they spend the rest of the car ride chatting about Mark’s birthday plans. Johnny said he had an itinerary for them but wouldn’t tell Mark what it was, and Yuta and Ten both seemed pretty excited, so Mark’s a little nervous.

“I’m kind of scared they’re taking me to some crazy strip club or something,” Mark says. 

“If they are, don’t call me to come pick you up because I’m just gonna laugh my ass off,” James says, grinning, as he pulls into his driveway.

Lucy is at the door with her mother, telling Mark happy birthday as soon as she lays eyes on him. “Eomma said you’re—twenty-one,” she says. “You’re way bigger than me.”

“I think that’s the nicest way to be called old,” James says with a laugh. “Believe it or not, Luce, you’re gonna be twenty-one someday, too!”

Mark takes her hand. “I’d rather be three than twenty-one,” he says. “Three’s a good age.”

“Three’s the best age,” Lucy agrees firmly. “‘Til I’m four, and then four’s the best, and then five…” 

Annie brings dinner to the table while James tries to figure out where he wants to put his iPad for the call. Finally, he settles on leaning it up against the napkin holder on the far side of the table and calls their parents.

“Happy birthday!” his parents burst out in unison as soon as the FaceTime connects. 

“Thank you,” Mark says with a grin.

They chatter about his life, how work’s going, if he’s ready for school in the fall. His dad tells him they’ve sent him a little care package that should arrive in a couple days.

“What are your plans for tonight, Mark?” his mother asks. “Oh, do you have someone special to take you on a date?”

“No, I’m just going out with some friends,” Mark says over Lucy’s giggling. 

“Aw, that’s good, but I hope you can find someone soon!” his mom presses. “James and Annie were already together at your age. Our Mark is so smart and handsome, I’m sure plenty of boys are interested!”

“Ugh, Eomma, I’m busy with school, I’m not like James. He had himself figured out.” Mark makes a face at James across the table, trying to ignore the strange stinging in his chest. “I can barely manage myself, how am I supposed to manage somebody else?”

“But you’re all alone,” his mother protests. “We worry about you!”

Mark knows she means well, and normally this kind of questioning honestly wouldn’t bother him. He’s fine not having a partner. Except… he thinks of Jaehyun. It’s not exactly true now, that he’s alone. And Jaehyun is going to be the reason he’ll remain publicly single for the foreseeable future, at least. But he’s not the same as a real boyfriend. He never will be. Because even if Mark and Jaehyun could work something out, how on earth would he tell his parents? They’d never accept it. Would they? “I have my friends,” Mark says instead, but it sounds a little flat to his own ears. “I’m fine, really.”

“Mark’s independent,” his father chimes in, saving him. “He’ll settle down when he’s ready.”

They exchange a few more pleasantries, the parents asking after Lucy. Mark lets her steal the spotlight, mind darkening with thoughts of the future and not quite able to focus on the bright conversation at hand. He does tune back in to finally say goodbye with a promise to call soon, and they’re left to dig into their cooling dinner.

Once they eat, Mark helps James clear the table while Annie runs to “get a surprise” from upstairs. James pulls Mark’s cake out of the fridge, along with numbered candles, a two and a one. The cake is a red velvet from Mark’s favorite bakery with pale blue frosting—James said he realized only after it was going to look like the American flag, but that he was more focused on getting a flavor Mark liked and his favorite color.

“It’s fine, man,” Mark says, grinning. “Thank you anyway.”

“Here, open this first,” Annie says. “Your friends will be here any minute, and I think they’ll want to participate in singing Happy Birthday.”

“This” turns out to be a very pretty hardcover anthology of Edgar Allen Poe’s poetry and short stories. Mark flips through it, genuinely touched. “Thank you,” he says, looking up at them. “This is going in a place of honor on my bookshelf. Can I leave it here tonight?”

“Of course,” Annie says, laughing, accepting it back. 

“We were originally looking at some nice first-edition books,” James says. “You know, like those rare ones. But they require special care and storage, which I don’t think you have access to quite yet.”

“Yeah, I appreciate the thought but I’m glad you didn’t,” Mark says fervently. “I think the responsibility would’ve given me a heart attack.”

Just then the doorbell rings, and when Mark answers it, Johnny, Yuta, and Ten are waiting. “Just in time for cake,” he says with a grin, leading them inside.

The candles are still lying haphazardly on the table next to the cake. “You’re turning twelve?” Johnny asks sarcastically.

 “Dude,” Mark says, rolling his eyes over Yuta’s shoulder as he’s squeezed into a hug.

James puts the candles on the cake (in the correct order) and then lights them while Annie flicks off the lights. They all sing Happy Birthday, with Ten egging Lucy into doing some silly additions at the end, and then Mark blows out the candles and the lights come back on so they can slice out the cake.

“So where are you guys off to tonight?” Annie asks.

“Top secret,” Johnny replies. “But we promise we’ll get him home safe.”

Mark kinda feels like a little kid all of a sudden. He forgets sometimes that Johnny and Yuta and Ten are all around James’ and Annie’s age despite the fact that they’re Mark’s friends. He takes a bite of cake. He thinks maybe he’s always going to be in a hurry to grow up.

The cake is eaten, and Lucy’s getting tired, and the bus is coming soon anyway, so they head out without too much more fanfare. The sun is working on setting, so the air is cooling but still hot. Yuta slings an arm over Mark’s shoulders as they make their way down the sidewalk. “Ready for your big night?”

“I’m getting more and more terrified by the minute,” Mark replies, which makes the other three laugh. 

“We’re just taking you out to our favorite bars,” Johnny reassures him, though his grin still seems a little too wild. “We’ve just never really seen you out and about! It’s different from those little college parties we go to.”

“I’ve been out drinking before,” Mark grumbles, but he knows going to the bar for a drink with James on his nineteenth birthday in Vancouver is not the same as going out clubbing here, now.

“You have your passport, right?” Ten asks.

“Yep,” Mark says, patting his pocket. “Which I’m sure isn’t going to score me any points.”

“Maybe it’ll make you look exotic,” Johnny says.

“Or just like a fuckin’ loser,” Mark grumbles. “You all have your licenses.”

“Well, you can fix that anytime, honey,” Ten points out, and Mark just gives a groan of defeat.

They pile onto the bus, collapsing into the four-across sideways seats that are elevated over the center of the first section, Mark on one end with Johnny next to him. While those two chat, Johnny ducks his head and asks, real quiet, “How are things with the DILF?”

Mark jabs him with his elbow; Johnny doesn’t react. “They’re fine,” he hisses. “He hasn’t tried to murder me yet.”

Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “You seeing him this weekend?”

“I told him maybe tomorrow, if I don’t feel like shit,” Mark replies. “So don’t try to get me wasted. Now shut up, if those two find out, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Johnny actually listens to him for once, and the rest of the bus ride is peaceful. Ten pulls the stop wire, and they get off on a busy street. Mark doesn’t see their destination at first, but finally zones in on an unassuming bar down the street.

Yuta notices the look on his face. “We’re starting you off easy,” he explains. “Can’t expect you not to bolt if we just threw you right into one of those gay clubs where everyone is naked.”

“We’re going to a gay club where everyone is naked?” Mark asks, looking down at his shorts and t-shirt combo.

“They have a coat check,” Ten says cheerfully. “And I brought something for you.” He points at the fanny pack that Johnny has clipped across his chest.

Mark doesn’t know if he likes the sound of that, especially not if it can fit in there, but he has to admit a small part of him is excited, too. Maybe with a few drinks running through his system, the excitement will win out. 

This bar, though, is busy but not crowded, well-lit enough that Mark can see where he’s going, and casual. They order a round—beer for Johnny, mixed drinks for the rest—and sip on them. Mark looks around the bar, seeing couples, groups of friends, the occasional loner. He wonders if Jaehyun has been to this bar. It’s a little under his general lifestyle now, but when he first came to Seattle, he was poor, and could’ve easily ended up here. The bar definitely looks old enough, far more than that. He’s not sure those sprinklers are up to code.

Mark gives himself a shake. However ominous his friends’ plans seem, he’s here to have fun with them. He can’t do that if he’s letting the ghost of Jaehyun’s younger self haunt him up and down the streets. He takes a long pull of his drink, earning himself a cheer from Ten. 

The next bar they go to is a little more upbeat, but there’s not a dance floor, so Mark guesses their plan is to get him pretty drunk before entering an actual club. That’s fine. He slams back another mixed drink and finishes Johnny’s beer when he decides he doesn’t like that one and goes to get another. By the time they leave their third bar, Mark’s definitely solidly buzzed, whatever padding he had from dinner gone. 

Good timing, too—the next place is a club, and they get carded at the door, pay a cover fee, and get their hands stamped before being allowed in. Ten drags him to the bar, where he is apparently recognized. Over the pounding music, he points at Mark and shouts something about it being his twenty-first birthday. 

In an instant, tequila shots are poured for all of them and a lime wedge is shoved into one of Mark’s hands while a small pile of salt is collecting on the back of his other one. Mark screws his eyes shut, licks up the salt, and takes the shot, chasing it quickly with the lime so he can convince his taste buds that everything is fine. 

“An extra one for the birthday boy,” the bartender says with an easy smile, passing Mark something else, which he balks at.

“Don’t be a baby, it’s a green tea shot, it’s yummy,” Ten goads, and, fuck, Mark’s being offered free drinks, and he’s always been a sucker for peer pressure, so he throws that one back, too. As soon as the glass is back on the counter, Ten is chirping a thank-you to the bartender, saying something about getting Mark laid tonight, and dragging him out to the dance floor.

“Ten, I’m not going home with anybody. Or bringing anybody home,” he shouts as they push through the crowd. 

“Oh-kay,” Ten singsongs, turning when he finds an open spot at pulling Mark close to dance. Johnny and Yuta appear on either side, so Mark is trapped. “But you can at least have a little fun. Dance with someone. Kiss someone! It’s your birthday!”

The only person Mark really wants to be kissing is Jaehyun. Jaehyun. It’s not like they’re exclusive. They’ve never even tried to discuss what they are. Jaehyun’s never made any indication that he’d mind, but… as far as Mark knows, he’s the only person in Jaehyun’s life right now. So it feels a little unfair.

He extricates himself from Ten’s hands. “Promise I’m not running away,” he says when he gets some concerned looks. “I just have to piss.”

He weaves his way out of the crowd and finds the bathroom. It’s dinky and gross, but whatever. He locks himself in a stall in case one of his friends follows him in, and then opens his text thread with Jaehyun.

hey, this is bad timing but I’m out with my friends like I said and I guess I never thought to ask if you’re cool with me like dancing with other guys and stuff? <;<<

I know it’s not like we’re actually dating or whatever but I thought I should ask <;<<

Jaehyun’s response comes pretty quick.

>>> Don’t worry about me baby

>>> It’s your birthday. Have some fun!

Mark chews his lip, looking over the message. Somehow, it’s not what he wanted to hear. He wanted… he wanted Jaehyun to say no. He wanted Jaehyun to say he was his, and no one else’s. But, he reminds himself with a pang in his chest, they don’t belong to each other. 

okay, if you say so! <;<<

I’m not sleeping with anybody else though. Promise. <;<<

He can practically hear Jaehyun’s soft laughter in the next reply.

>>> You don’t have to promise that

>>> But okay :) have a good night and stay safe! call me if you need anything

Thanks <;<<

It makes Mark feel worse, honestly. He pockets his phone and goes to wash his hand so he doesn’t look like a weirdo, and then heads back out to the dance floor to find his friends. What did you expect, dumbass? he berates himself as he excuse me, sorrys his way through the crowd. Of course he doesn’t mind. You’re just fucking. There’s no reason for him to be possessive or emotional about it. So neither should you.

By the time he spots Johnny’s head over the sea of people, he’s resolved to forget all about Jaehyun tonight. Fine, if Jaehyun doesn’t care who he kisses or who he fucks, then Mark won’t turn anyone down tonight. He’ll prove to Jaehyun (and himself) that there are other people out there for him, and that he’s just feeling a little attached because Jaehyun’s the only person he’s fucked in the last year or so. Not because it’s real. 

“Thought you really had run out on us,” Yuta shouts with a grin when Mark joins them. 

“Nah, I just couldn’t figure out the drawstring on these!” Mark shouts back. “My fingers don’t work when I’m drunk!”

Not too long after, some pretty boy comes up and asks Mark to dance with him. Mark accepts, peeling away from his group a little so they can have some privacy. Mark doesn’t catch his name but pretends he hears him after he repeats himself for the second time.

“I saw you guys chatting with the bartender!” The guy shouts. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“No, it’s my friend that knows him,” Mark replies. “I haven’t been before.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“It’s my twenty-first birthday,” Mark explains.

“Oh,” the guy says with a smile. He leans in closer. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Mark says, leaning in, too, and kisses him. 

And it’s fine. Good, even. But he’s still thinking of Jaehyun when they pull away, and with that comes a sort of sobering disappointment. Mark tries to brush it aside. One kiss isn’t going to fix you, he thinks. You have to keep going.

“What?” The guy looks a little confused, and Mark realizes he’s kind of just been looking at him.

“Nothing,” Mark says. “D’you wanna go get another drink?”

The night kind of blurs from there. Mark doesn’t black out, per se, but he definitely loses track of time and becomes quite malleable. He lets his friends whisk him on to the next club, and the next, dancing with strangers and making out with a fair number, too. It gets a little better, but nothing sparks in his stomach the way he’s kind of hoping it does.

They reach the club Ten was talking about. He strips to booty shorts and a fucking hot pink bikini top, because of course he does, and shoves a black crop top and matching shorts into Mark’s hands. It’s not atrocious, so Mark changes, since he doesn’t fit in here in his own clothes. Yuta’s literally wearing a jockstrap and a tiny leather vest, which Mark is honestly kind of impressed by. Johnny, on the other hand, simply takes off his shirt to reveal a harness across his chest and back.

“What the fuck?” Mark asks, and Johnny just grins and saunters off to coat check.

The lighting is dark blue-purple and sexy, and everyone is just as naked as Mark and his friends, so he quickly loses his self-consciousness. Besides, Mark knows he’s hot, and this is confirmed by the number of people that put their hands on him in the span of the next half an hour or so, offering to buy him more drinks. He lets himself get lost in it, giving out kisses freely, even guiding the hands lower when he likes the person they’re attached to.

But even through the weird lust-haze and alcohol, Mark still feels kind of empty. Not in a bad, hollow way, necessarily, just a little lonely. This is fun, and these guys are hot. But they’re not Jaehyun. 

Finally, when Mark nearly trips over himself on the way to the bathroom, Johnny calls it a night. He retrieves their clothes and they gather in the bathroom to get changed before figuring out how they’re getting home. 

Mark is a short bus ride away, so Johnny offers to come with him to make sure he makes it home while Ten and Yuta try to figure out Ubers. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” Ten asks, slurring a little. “You had fun?”

Mark can honestly say that he did, despite his inner turmoil, so he nods. “Yeah, Tennie,” he says, trying and failing to get Ten’s face to focus. “I had fun.”

Ten gives him a happy kiss on the forehead before they head outside. Yuta takes Mark by the elbow so he doesn’t trip on the stairs, and then they’re out in the cool night air. Johnny and Mark wave goodbye to the other two and hurry down to the nearest bus stop.

“You weren’t lying to Ten?” Johnny asks. “You really had fun?”

“Yeah,” Mark says earnestly, or at least as earnestly he can when he’s not really sure what his own voice sounds like. “I think ‘m the right amount of drunk. Wouldn’t do it every weekend, but I get the appeal.”

Johnny grins, ushering him onto the bus and into a seat. “Think your DILF will mind?”

This sobers Mark somewhat. “I know he doesn’t,” he says.

Johnny blinks, surprised. “You okay?”

“I texted him to ask,” Mark explains. “If he would mind. And he just… told me to have fun.”

“That’s good, right?” Johnny asks, now thoroughly perplexed.

“I guess,” Mark mumbles. “I just—I dunno. Thought maybe he would care more.”

“Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings,” Johnny says.

“No,” Mark refutes quickly, then shakes his head. “I dunno. Maybe.”

“It’s not gonna end well, man.” Johnny’s voice has gentled, and Mark thinks that might break him. “Hey. Look at me.” Mark peeks up miserably. “You, Mark Lee, are young and hot and cool, and you can do way better than some random middle-aged guy. No matter how good of a fuck he is. Or how much money he has. Okay?”

Mark sighs and nods. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Johnny reaches up for the stop wire. “Want me to stay the night? Keep an eye on you?”

Mark shakes his head. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m not that drunk. Mostly just tired. I don’t think I’m even gonna puke.”

“Good.” Johnny leads him outside and walks him down the street to his building, all the way up to the front door. “Then have a good night.” He opens his arms for a hug and Mark accepts. “And happy birthday, man.”

“Not my birthday anymore, it’s like three a.m.,” Mark argues into Johnny’s chest. Johnny laughs.

When Mark gets up to his room, he immediately just strips and heads into the shower to get the layer of everyone else’s sweat off his skin. As the water’s heating, he unlocks his phone and finds it still open to his texts with Jaehyun.

I miss you <;<<

wish it was you tonight instead <;<<

He’ll probably regret it in the morning, but right now he’s too drunk and tired to care. He sets his phone on the counter and steps into the steaming shower. 

When he gets out, a single text is waiting for him.

>>> Go to bed, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow

Mark leaves his phone there, the text unanswered, flicks off the lights, and collapses naked into bed. Despite the spins that threaten to overtake him, he’s asleep within minutes.

///

Mark wakes with a dry mouth, a pounding headache, and the dull but insistent push of nausea in the back of his throat. He rolls out of bed with a groan and shuffled into the bathroom to gag into his toilet. Most of what comes up is burning liquid, and once he’s done, he does feel better, though the headache persists. 

He lets himself rest on the floor by the toilet for a few minutes before getting up to swish with mouthwash, since brushing his teeth is going to require hand-eye coordination that he currently does not possess. He checks his phone, which is cheerily displaying the ungodly time of 7:13 a.m., and doesn’t see any new texts.

Mouth sufficiently washed, Mark slaps around the medicine cabinet for some Advil and takes two of those with a handful of water right out of the tap, then drags himself back to bed. He crawls under the covers and knocks right back out. 

The next time he wakes up, it’s to a significantly weaker headache, no nausea, and full body aches. He lies there, weighing the merits of just dying right here and decomposing, but ultimately decides against it because Chenle’s parents don’t deserve to clean up that kind of mess. He scoots out of bed, uses the bathroom, and checks his phone while he actually brushes his teeth. 

He reads over his texts with Jaehyun last night and groans. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks, rinsing out his mouth and cleaning his toothbrush. He takes a couple more Advil and then decides he should probably get some food in his stomach while he considers what to say. 

sorry about that ^ haha 😅 <;<<

about all of it really <;<<

It takes Jaehyun the time it takes for Mark’s bread to toast to reply. 

>>> All good! How’s the hangover?

>>> Think you could meet me for brunch?

Mark munches on his plain toast, contemplating. 

hangover was worse this morning, I’m better now <;<<

but yeah give me like an hour or two <;<<

>>> Okay, see you at noon!

Mark gets himself a glass of water and then flops down on his couch, taking sips of the water and small, tentative bites of his bread. It settles his stomach even more. Maybe he’ll actually get to enjoy brunch.

After letting his body adjust to being awake for a bit, he finally gets up and gets himself ready. Takes a quick shower to get the vomit-sweat off. Brushes his teeth again. Tries to style his hair. Gets dressed in something he hopes is brunch appropriate. By the time Jaehyun texts to say he’s outside, Mark almost feels like a person again.

“Hey, baby,” Jaehyun says with a sympathetic grin. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a semi and also poisoned,” Mark replies, dropping into the passenger seat. “Mostly fine, though.”

Jaehyun laughs. “Good twenty-first?”

“Could say that,” Mark replies, thinking of all the boys he kissed. He wants to tell Jaehyun about it. He wants to say I met so many people last night and they were all great but they weren’t you. He wants to say why didn’t you care who I was kissing? Why don’t I matter to you? He wants to say is it allowed that I let you matter to me? “Where are we going?” he asks instead. 

“One of my favorite brunch spots,” Jaehyun says. “I made a reservation last week, figured it might be around this time. It’s casual but popular.”

Maybe Jaehyun cares more than Mark gives him credit for. He made a reservation last week. Clearly, he’s been thinking about it. “Sounds good,” he says genuinely. 

The restaurant is, in fact, crowded, with a long line of people waiting to put their names down. They’re taken to a small table near the back and left alone. Mark’s not sure he should go for anything partially cooked, or anything overly sweet, so he settles on a small plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with potatoes, and stresses to their server that the eggs be well-cooked. Jaehyun laughs at him over the rim of his water glass.

“I remember my twenty-first birthday,” Jaehyun says, grinning. “I was in much worse shape than you the next day, so good job.”

“What did you do?” Mark asks, intrigued.

“Well, like you, I was from a place where I could legally drink earlier, so it wasn’t my first time having unrestricted access to alcohol,” Jaehyun says. “But unlike you, I suffered delusions of grandeur and thought I could take on that stupid twenty-one bar challenge.”

“Like, go to twenty-one bars and have a drink at each?” Mark asks, wrinkling his nose when Jaehyun nods sheepishly. “I had maybe like seven or eight drinks last night, and I think that was one or two too many. So did you make it to twenty-one?”

“God, no,” Jaehyun says. “I blacked out at like maybe twelve, and my boyfriend at the time later told me I had a few more after that before promptly vomiting them back up onto the sidewalk. At least we were outside.” 

Mark is struck with the sudden and sharp reminder that Jaehyun has lived a whole life before him. He had boyfriends when he was younger, boyfriends he loved. He’s probably had his heart broken more than once. There’s a clawing hunger in Mark’s chest to know more, to know it all, to peel back all of Jaehyun’s layers until he’s seen every last one, to lave over his most secret parts with his own tongue—and there’s fear, too; fear that he might not like what he finds, and worse, fear that he will like it, fear of his own hunger and what it might mean.

“What were you like?” he asks quietly. “When you were my age? Did you go out with your friends like that often?”

Jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “No, I was always sort of shy and soft-spoken. I liked going out, but only if people I knew were there and only if I could get home quickly.”

Mark can imagine it. Jaehyun’s face, bright and fresh with youth, skin smooth and free of smile lines. The flush of his cheeks. The same silly laugh. He imagines him in the corner of some bar, arms crossed over his chest with a beer in one hand, tucked against his bicep. Watching his friends quietly. He imagines a red-faced and drunk Jaehyun knocking back shots amid cheering. Stumbling out onto the street and vomiting unceremoniously at his own feet. The pinch of his eyebrows. The sweat on his hairline. Mark’s heart feels like it’s been beat flat with a meat tenderizer. He gives Jaehyun an unsteady smile. “I can’t imagine you any other way,” he says.

“So, anyway, obviously the next morning I was in the worst pain I’d ever been in in my life. I spent well into the afternoon alternating between sipping a little water and going to throw it back up again,” Jaehyun continues as their food arrives. “Thank you. At one point, my friends were considering just taking me to the hospital because I was so dehydrated. I told them to wait until the evening, and I’d go if I wasn’t better by then, because I was so embarrassed and I didn’t want my parents to find out I’d been so stupid.” Jaehyun shakes his head ruefully. “Lucky for me, by around three or four, I was able to keep a cup of water down. I swore up and down I’d never drink again, but… you know how that goes.”

Mark nods, popping a potato in his mouth and making a noise of appreciation. As usual, Jaehyun’s found a great spot. “That’s kind of hilarious,” he says. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun giggles. “I am proud to say that’s the last time I’ve blacked out from drinking, and one of the last times I ever threw up from drinking, so at least I learned my lesson kind of.”

“That is impressive,” Mark says. “I know logically my limit is about six drinks, but somewhere around drink five I get convinced I can do like five more, and it all just goes downhill from there.”

“Did you blackout last night?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“I don’t think so,” Mark says, and then remembers his texts to him and cringes. “I am sorry about those texts from like three a.m. I literally remember thinking, like, I’ll probably hate myself in the morning, and then sending them anyway. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, laughing. “No, I was up late doing some work,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. They definitely could’ve been worse. All you said was that you missed me, which is fair. I’m pretty great.”

Mark groans. “Still, it was kind of pathetic of me,” he mumbles, stabbing at the last of his potatoes.

“Well,” Jaehyun says, chasing a blueberry around his plate with his fork. “You’re young. You’re allowed to be a little stupid. It’s okay, really. I think I’m flattered that I’m the one you’re drunk-texting.”

“Who else would it be?” Mark asks without thinking. 

Jaehyun blinks at him. “I don’t know,” he says evenly. “I don’t know what you do when you’re not with me.”

And you don’t care, Mark thinks bitterly, and then mentally smacks himself for being childish. “Please, I don’t have time for anybody else,” he says, keeping his tone light. “My god, I almost forgot. Me and James called our parents last night so they could wish me a happy birthday, and my mom started interrogating me about who I was dating since James and Annie were, like, already engaged at my age. Most unserious conversation I’ve had in a while.”

Jaehyun gives him a weary smile. “I hope I’m not keeping you from people your age,” he says.

Mark waves him off. “I’m telling you what I told my mom. I can barely deal with my own shit. Dealing with someone else is off the table.” Jaehyun gives him a weird look. “You don’t count, I don’t have to deal with you. You take care of me.”

Jaehyun’s expression morphs back into a smile, this one markedly less weary. “I certainly try,” he says. He nods at Mark’s nearly empty plate. “Ready to head out?” 

Mark nods. Jaehyun pays, and they gather their things and pick their way through the maze of tables towards the door. Mark slips into the passenger seat and Jaehyun starts the car. There’s a natural ease to it that, even though Mark’s weird tumultuous feelings, he finds comforting. 

“I think we would’ve gotten along,” Mark says. “If we were the same age and met in college.”

Jaehyun turns to smile at him, like really smile, dimples popping handsomely. “I think so, too,” he agrees. 

When they get home, shoes kicked off at the entrance and dogs tended to, Jaehyun turns to Mark. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “Wanna nap?”

Mark gives him a look. “If you’re asking if I’m feeling well enough to fuck you, I think you know the answer.”

Jaehyun laughs and kisses him. Mark melts under his touch. It feels perfect. Everything feels so perfect. He doesn’t know exactly what it is except that it’s Jaehyun. He wraps his arms around Jaehyun’s waist and kisses him, their teeth knocking in his eagerness. 

“You okay?” Jaehyun whispers when they separate.

“Just,” Mark says, but doesn’t know how to continue. How’s he supposed to explain without revealing himself? When it’s clear Jaehyun doesn’t, and won’t, feel the same way? “I know those texts last night were, like, cringey and dumb, but I really did miss you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Jaehyun says. “C’mon.”

They head up to Jaehyun’s room, where the early afternoon sun is lighting up the space. His sheets are white today, and practically blinding. Jaehyun shuts the door behind them and heads over to the window to lower the blinds a little so they don’t get sun directly in their eyes. Mark watches him, that same terrible tenderness still holding onto his heart. All he can do is keep imagining Jaehyun younger, next to a faceless boyfriend, someone who had Jaehyun, really had him, and lost him anyway. There’s some bitter jealousy there, but also a strange kinship. Mark will join the ranks of Jaehyun’s unknowable past lovers, the way Jaehyun will join Mark’s. One day he’ll be a memory, a ghost that Mark’s future partner might never even find out about. He thinks again of a life he’ll have in that future, one that might look something like this. Lazy Saturday afternoon sex, post-brunch, in a sun-warmed bed.

Except this time in his vision, Mark’s potential future partner has a face. It doesn’t happen on purpose. He doesn’t mean to imagine it this way. But in his head, it’s the younger version of Jaehyun, smiling at him with those dimpled cheeks from across the mattress. His is the body waking up beside Mark’s, working beside him, building a life, slow but sure. One pancake at a time. 

Tears sting behind Mark’s eyes before he realizes what’s happening. Because that can never come true. As much as Mark might want it, Jaehyun’s not going to be able to wait around for him to grow up and finally be ready to settle down. By then, Jaehyun might already be well on his way to his fifties. And that’s if Jaehyun even wants him in the first place, which he doesn’t.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun’s suddenly in front of him, tilting Mark’s face up and searching his eyes.

“Nothing,” Mark manages, blinking rapidly and willing the tears away. “It’s just super bright in here. Hurts my eyes.”

“I can put the blind down all the way,” Jaehyun says, accepting this easily.

Mark shakes his head, leaning into Jaehyun, hooking his chin over Jaehyun’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his middle. “No, this is perfect,” he says. 

“Okay,” Jaehyun agrees.

They pull each other’s clothes off slow and gentle, pausing to kiss over the freshly exposed skin before continuing. Jaehyun guides them to his bed, and they settle atop the soft duvet. Mark preps him blindly, not wanting to pull away from his mouth. When he finally fucks him, it’s quiet, sweet, sensual. None of their usual roughness and quick, panting breaths. There’s something different underneath, too. Mark’s put it to the test, and he’s still choosing Jaehyun. And Jaehyun, despite all the warning signs, seems to be letting him. Something blooms in Mark’s chest, but something withers, too. He pets Jaehyun’s baby-soft hair and kisses him and tries not to imagine what his life would be if this was every day. 

But even though he knows it’s impossible, some small part of him insists. Why not Jaehyun? If things were different, couldn’t it be him?

But they’re not different, he reminds himself firmly, swallowing one of Jaehyun’s soft moans when he rolls his hips up just right. This is what you have. This is it. It will have to be enough.

“Where’d you go, baby?” Jaehyun whispers. “You seem far away.”

Mark shakes his head, both to refute Jaehyun’s statement and to clear his mind. “I’m right here,” he insists. And he forces it to be true. He focuses on the feeling of Jaehyun’s skin on his, the unsteady pattern of Jaehyun’s breath, the tightening of Jaehyun around him. The sun on his back, warm and comforting.

He comes first, but he can hardly feel it. 

[8hrsbabysitting-aita]

Okay, so, i know there’s not a lot of people asking for info but i need to clear some stuff up and stuff I forgot to say that may or may not make me the asshole here.

1. My mom had 2 event. Brunch with her badminton friends, then lunch with her old friends.

2. My mom DOES NOT neglect us. Yes, it might be irresponsible to leave a 2yrs old with a 15yrs old, But 1) this was one of the only times she left without the baby for more than 3hrs, the other times, my dad was home. 2)she was meeting an old Friend that she hasn’t met since 2019, 3) I’m so sorry that I forgot to mention this, but her friend has suffered miscarriages and that might be the reason she didn’t bring my youngest sister (tho her other friend did bring her kid, but maybe that’s because he’s 3/4 and my sister is 2. That also didn’t explain why she didn’t bring her to the brunch but whatever )

3. I am experienced. I have been babysitting since I was 6 and only have 1 younger sibling (for better or worse)

4. The reason I instantly left was because 1) my teacher didn’t specify WHY I was called to school. 2) I am an extremely lazy student and I was scared that I was called to school because I’m have some not finished homework. 3)my house is one of the closest one to school.

5.my mom usually only leave me to babysit for 2/3 hrs every Tuesday after school. The only other times she left me with my my younger siblings was when I have a no school day on Wednesday morning(for 2-3hrs), and Thursday night when her and my dad has a date night (2-3 hrs, but the youngest already ate so i dont need to Feed her)

6. My dad couldn’t babysit bc he’s at work. He also have said knee injury so he can’t hold the baby for too long.[Though I have thought of punching my dad bc he keeps complaining about my mom not taking care of my sister enough yet blows up on Everyone (yes, everyone. Even the baby. And his wife) If they’re crying. ]

7. For the “find a baby sitter” option, being a babysitter (unless it’s your actual job) isn’t really common in my country.

8. In addition to no.7, My parents was traumatized bc back when my mom was still working, we did have a baby sitter, but she wasn’t doing a good job and 3 years old me walked into traffic. So they don’t trust babysitter anymore

9. Sadly, yes. This has happened before, BUT I only have to take care of my sister (then 6 and 1 years old) and my baby sister shits on the goddamn carpet while I was cooking dinner and my dad got angry at my mom and my mom got angry at me (and my 6yrs old sister who was focused on the tablet that she didn’t hear her sister saying she is pooping).

10. Silent treatment is the usual go to for my mom when she’s angry at her kids (she does minimal talking when my dad’s around). I thought that part is just Normal.

11. An addition to no.5, she did use to leave me (then 13 years old) with my youngest sister (then 3 till 7 months old) for 2-3 hours to hangout with her friends (the parents of my old friends and my younger sister kindergarten friends) while they wait for my sister and her friends to get out of kindergarten (took at most 3hrs. This was back in 2021). Only my youngest sister though, my other siblings was already studying at school. Because we live in the border of 3 different sub-province(?), my school still had to use Zoom bc the place was in the city with one of the most covid19 cases. (This may make me unsuitable to babysit, because now I have anger problems)

12. Also the reason I am the asshole in this part, my parents don’t know that I have shitty sleeping schedule. All they know is Im just sleepy all the time.

(Bonus.For everyone who’s telling me “leave the adults problem to the adults” (because some of you are saying that), I know you mean well, but this type of argument has been happening since I was a kid. And even though my parents fought less (or fought more privately, ig), I would rather stab myself than letting my siblings have the same goddamn trauma as I did. )

Am i the asshole for getting my mom yelled at?

✨🐢✨<—-so I recognize the post

So yesterday, my mom (40F) left me (15F) at home with my siblings. Everything was going fine until I was called to school to help with the report books (my house is one of the nearest) I told my brother (12 M)to take care of our younger siblings (7 F and 2 F), while I went to school. I also told my mom that I was at school, helping my teacher.

I came back around 1:30 pm. My brother was busy playing games with his friends and him & my sisters haven’t eaten lunch yet. So I told my brother to stop playing with his friends for a bit and eat. After I ate, I tried feeding the youngest, but she didn’t want to eat. I, not wanting to deal with her crying (i get angry easily and I don’t like scolding my siblings), didn’t force her, but waited for her to want to eat. I accidentally fell asleep while waiting (I have horrible sleep schedule, so I was tired) and woke up like 3hrs later. I tried feeding my sister, but she still didn’t want to. So I forced her. Then my dad came home and saw that 1)My mom wasn’t home, 2)my sister barely eat anything. He was angry but he didn’t told me.

Anyway, my dad had to go to the hospital (he has a knee injury) and my mom was going to meet him at the hospital. He wasn’t going to bring my youngest sister, but she insisted on coming.

This is where I might be an asshole. As my dad was bringing my sister, I mentioned that she also cried this morning, like, 5 minutes after my mom left. She had previously put my sister to sleep so she doesn’t need to come with her. But she woke up around 5minutes after my mom left, crying because she wanted to come with my mom. I thought he was going to treat it like a grain of salt and forget about it. I was wrong.

My dad basically blew up on my mom bc she “wasn’t taking care of the kids”. My mom got angry at me because I didn’t feed my sister and bc I told my dad about my sister crying, and blamed me for getting yelled at by my dad. She scolded me saying “can’t I have a break for once?!” And “ I wasn’t even gone for a whole day. Just 8.5 hours!”. The thing is, even her friend brought her son (he’s around,like, 4 or smth). That was one of the reason my dad was angry at her. Now my mom isn’t talking to me, and don’t know what to do.

Am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

[itsoutrageouss]

brooo (can I call you bro) that Elliot fic was the best thing I've read in a while can I request a continuation of that part where Elliot takes her home to his and they kind of sober up a bit where she admits she's been crushing on him and then they start to drink and smoke and fuck again but this time they know they can take their sweet time with it?

(I'm obsessed with how you wrote Elliot, especially the part where he took her hands to guide them to his dick like that's so in character for him)

What you do to me II

A/N : Fuckk yeah you can call me bro!! And tysm for the praise- the whole motivation for the piece was that one hand to dick scene lol. sorry for being gone so long life sucks but I’m not dead yet- and sorry for shit ending

Words: yeah no idea like 1k

Warnings: weed, unprotected sex, grinding and cuteness

Part 2 of this one shot 

——🕊

You can’t fucking stop staring at him. The whole ride to his place is kind of a blur, except for his side profile, his soft sloped nose and the way his face shines the red and green hues of the traffic lights. He’s a casual driver, one arm nonchalantly hanging over the steering wheel with the other placed on his thigh and eventually on yours. Dark eyes continuously flash over to yours who looks adoringly at him. He can hardly keep his focus on the road with the way your presence has gone from a distant craving to right here next to him. He couldn’t get home fast enough.

Eventually you arrive, and he follows you directly up to the top floor that’s mainly his, he explains. The bed is messy, several blankets sprawled over it and a few pillows tossed on the floor, complimented with graphic tees and hoodies. He doesn’t excuse the mess, which you appreciate, for the vibe of it is exactly what you expected and wanted. “

Music?” he asks turning around to look at where you lay on his bed with raised brows. “Sure,” your smile is captivating, and he clears his throat before turning the volume down a bit. The alcohol is slowly seeping its way out of your systems, as he lay down next to you, both your legs still on the ground. 

“So,” he begins, and you feel your heart flutter. Not only by the tone of his voice, but it seems that you are finally sobering up enough to get a hold of the situation. You are here, in Elliot’s bed. With Elliot. The boy you’ve always looked so longingly at. When he started looking back, everything inside your brain got messed up. You couldn’t focus on school anymore, finding any excuse to meet his gaze. When something funny happened, you’d smile at each other. When the teacher would announce a test, you’d roll your eyes in annoyance. Always to each other. The silent communication was enough to keep you going for so long, but you want more. You want him. You want people to see you together, to hold his hand and kiss his lips. 

“So,” you repeat, ironically enough too nervous to meet his gaze this time. He studied your features as you tried your best to count something, anything on the ceiling. 

“This is what had to happen for you to hang out with me, huh?” he teases, an amused smile playing on his plumb lips. You got the sense that he likes to push your buttons, to test you. 

“You are so stupid. I couldn’t just fucking walk up to you,” you reply honestly with a dry chuckle, hands folded across your stomach. Your foot taps along to the beat of whatever song was playing. You are really fucking nervous, scared that you are going to say something wrong- or that he’ll find out how much you suck to be around.

“Yeah you could, if you weren’t such a pussy,” his voice raises an octave and he nudges you with his elbow. It feels natural for him to be around you, he can tell already. There is no awkward tension or nervousness for him. You on the other hand is scared shitless. Yet, you let out a genuine laugh at his response before looking at him with a pretend-offended face. It’s when you meet his eyes that you finally relax. It’s familiar to look at him, and you can see him so closely now. 

“Why have you never talked to me?” he asks, looking genuinely curious, and you gulp at the way he’s clearly studying your face and your expressions.

“You know why,” you can’t make yourself say it, can’t make yourself be so vulnerable when this is basically the first conversation you’ve ever had with him.

“No I want you to say it” he says seriosuly, but you can see the glimt in his eyes and the way his lip curls upwards. He really does enjoy pushing your buttons.

“Fuck you. I like you. Thought you’d figured that much.” you can’t help smiling at the sort of excitement you see rushing through him at your words. It’s borderline smug, and you want to tell him off but you’re too nervous to say anything more that could make the damage worse.

But there was no damage in sight. “You wanna get high?” he asks, getting up from the bed and looking over his shoulder to meet your eyes again. His smile i soft and sincere this time, telling you everything he didn’t say. yet.

----

You were laughing hysterically. Whatever Elliot had said, which you don’t remember, was extremely funny. You had already felt your anxiety slip away with every word of his, and your inhibitions were let loose. He listened to everything you said with a genuine interest, in a way you hadn’t experienced in a long time. His eyes kept glazing over you with a certain, heavy-lidded look that made your thighs clench.

‘You’re so fucking cute when you laugh like that,’ he breathes, leaning over you while being propped on an elbow. His breath was warm on your lips, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge of something indescribable. It made you surge forward and press your lips to his again. Your hand pulled him by the shirt, and he obliged happily, slipping his tongue into your mouth as well as his hand under your shirt.

His warm palm and fingers splaying on your waist made you shiver- it felt electric, the way he was touching you, and before you knew it he had flipped you over, so your thighs straddled his as he leaned back. It was his way of showing, of telling that he was all yours. You smiled at the subtle display of submission from him, a smile which he reciprocated. Your kiss was slow. You knew you had all night, all the time in world frankly, to feel each other.

You felt like you were floating as he undressed you, slowly. His fingers fumbled with your bra until it unclaspes, and that heavy look of desire made you squirm under him.

“Best fucking tits in town’ he sighed happily, pressing wet and sloppy kissed down your sternum. You arched like a cat towards him, simultaneously grinding down on his hips.

‘This isn’t fair’ you stuttered out, gesturing to his fully clothed body. He snickers, pulling his shirt over his head. You couldn’t help the gawking of your eyes as you took in his stomach, and he smiled softly at the loving look on your face.

‘Stop that right now or I’ll cream my pants’ he whined, referring to the heated gaze you bore. It made you laugh again, looking to the ceiling. You stood up to drag down your pants, and he did the same while holding your gaze. It was a challenge. You kept looking, until you both were completely bare and finally let your eyes roam each other. He licked his lips and beckoned you over to him again, where you sat on his thighs.

He sat up to meet your lips again, travelling them down your jaw and neck, all the ah to your breasts where he sucked gently on your nipple. It made you lean into him again, one hand tangling in his unruly curls. His hands where everywhere- he wanted his skin to have touched all of yours, wanted to map you out and feel you in a way nobody else had. He wanted to be special to you.

You rolled your hips forward, succeeding in pressing his dick into your folds. The direct, intimate contact made you blush and moan at the same time. He cursed softly, lips leaving your tits to look down at where you now both met. He was flushed red, coated in a sheen layer of you now, where you rubbed against him. His eyes closed in pleasure, leaning back into his pillows. He just wanted to feel you, w wanted nothing else on his mind, on his body.

You lifted up then, nudging him at your fluttering hole. You were aching for him, wet since he put his hand on your thigh in that car- hell since what happened in the bathroom.

You wanted this to be special, too. To convey what you felt, you pulled him up again so he sat, feeling his breath on your face. Your hands another along his neck and stayed there, making him look into your eyes again. As he did, you began to sink down on him. The stretch made you delirious with pleasure and pain, and it felt endless as you sat down fully, feeling every part of him inside you. It was molten and tight, and so wet it made you keen.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, muttering your name. His voice was slurred, both of the weed and the feeling of you clenching around him so tight. The way you held him there, your eyes burning into his- he could’ve cum from just that.

You slowly started lifting up and down. His eyes rolled back and he squeezed them tight as his head went to the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and biting you gently. His hands went up and down your back in a soothing motion.

Everything was slow and unrushed- it had never felt so good. He was hitting things inside you that you didn’t even know was possible, and you felt every ridge and vein sliding into you again and again. A sheen layer of sweat covered his chest, and you leaned into it, pressing yourself to him unt you both were lying down. “I think uh-“ he breathed, pecking your lips before continuing, “- I think I like you too” he snickered, before gulping at the way you clenched around him tightly.

You kissed him deeper as a response, still rocking against him. His hands gripped your hips now, and he started to push up into you in time with yours. Nothing else was said then, it was just his lips on your forehead, cheeks, lips, neck and tits, his hands everywhere else, hick dick inside you over and over until you gripped him like a vice and stuttered his name ‘elliot, elliot, elliot’ into his neck. He pulled out of you swiftly and he took your hand into his, wrapping it around his dick, leaning precum that slid down the length of him. Together, you made him cum. Together you watched as he coated both your stomachs. Together you cleaned up and fell asleep quickly after.

Breaking the silence between you had been the best decision of you life, was the last thought that drifted into your head

[provisionalsparkle]

The Boy Next Door

Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.

[Word count] 6.7K

[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.

[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!

Summer.

The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…

For most people.

For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.

You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.

You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.

College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.

It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.

There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.

“Honey? You home?”

“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.

“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?

“Yeah…”

“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”

“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”

“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”

“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”

“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”

“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”

“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”

“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”

“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.

“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”

Bang…

Christopher…

You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”

You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.

You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.

He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.

Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.

When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.

You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.

“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.

“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”

“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!

“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.

“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.

“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.

The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.

And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.

Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.

You never held his hand in chemistry again.

Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.

When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.

It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.

He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.

But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.

He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.

Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.

Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.

Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?

University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.

You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.

Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.

That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.

Ah… the good old days.

What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?

To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.

A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.

“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”

“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.

“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.

“Fine…”

The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -

The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.

Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…

“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.

“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.

“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.

There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.

“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.

You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.

“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”

With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.

It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.

You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.

No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.

You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.

You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.

Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.

Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!

Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?

But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.

You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.

“You know those are bad for you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.

“Sorry I didn’t -”

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”

“ - mean to startle you…”

“Damn it, Christopher!”

“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”

“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”

“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.

“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.

There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.

“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”

“I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”

“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.

“I left without saying anything.”

“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”

“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you left without saying anything?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.

“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?

“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”

“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.

“I really messed up there…”

“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.

“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”

“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”

“I got hurt.” You admit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”

“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”

“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.

“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”

“Really…Plain old me?”

“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”

“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”

“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.

“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”

“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”

“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”

“Did you finish school already?”

“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.

“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”

“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”

“How so?”

“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”

“We were just kids.”

“I guess we were…”

Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m single too, you know.”

It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.

Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.

Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.

Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.

Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.

The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.

And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.

He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.

It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.

The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.

He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.

It was all horribly, horribly shameful.

But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.

Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?

It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.

It was driving him fucking insane.

If only you knew.

Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.

And Chris was particularly fuckable.

Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.

Everything was perfect.

“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”

Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?

It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.

“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”

“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”

“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.

“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”

“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.

“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.

“Are… are you serious?”

“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”

Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.

He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.

“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.

“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.

He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.

You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.

“No.” He growls.

“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!

“Let me.”

And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.

He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.

He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.

It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.

He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.

It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.

It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.

Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.

Things started to change though.

The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…

You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.

You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.

You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.

You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.

He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.

You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.

“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”

“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.

“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.

“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.

“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.

“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.

“I know… but what else can we do?”

There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.

You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.

But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.

He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.

It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.

Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.

A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.

It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.

The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.

However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.

Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.

“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.

And then you see him.

Him.

Your him.

He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.

“I… live in 304.” He says.

“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.

You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.

“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.

“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.

This can’t be.

But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.

“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.

“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.

“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.

One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.

It’s real.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies

(Plus Jango)

A scene from the Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Warnings for: canon-typical discussion of slavery.

Shmi is eleven years old when the stranger comes.

He’s tall, and covered in the kind of dark clothes that are hell in the desert. He’s got some armor, too, but not as much as the Mandalorians she sees walking around sometimes. His expression is mean, even though he’s smiling, and she thinks the trader is scared of him.

He’s buying her.

“Now I just need a name for the ownership paperwork,” the trader says. She thinks he’s sweating.

“The sale is already completed, yes?” the stranger says. He tilts his head and purses his lips, still smirking. “No sudden fees coming my way?”

“Of course not, honored customer,” the trader simpers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Shmi’s heart stops. That’s her family name.

The trader gets a little paler, as he realizes why this man is here. Shmi watches the calculations fly, wondering if he can maybe squeeze out a few extra wupiupi on this sale. Former slaves freeing family, even family they don’t know, always fetches the highest price.

The stranger—Anakin—leans across the counter and looms over the trader, smiling in the most threatening way Shmi’s ever seen. “No sudden fees, right?”

“Well, there will be the code transfer f—”

“I’m the most dangerous person in this city,” the man says, smile dropping away like flies from a bantha. “Don’t make me prove it, friend.”

The sale is secured, the codes handed over, the detonator passing hands.

Shmi falls into step next to Anakin, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. He takes her a few blocks away without a word, and then into a shallow spot in an alleyway, right where foot traffic won’t be a bother.

“Hey,” he says, dropping to one knee and placing himself where, even when she sets her gaze low, he’ll be there. He smiles at her, hesitant but far, far kinder than what she saw in the shop. “Do you want me to deactivate your chip now, or once we’re on my ship? I can’t remove it until we’re out of here; I’m no surgeon.”

“…now, please,” she whispers, and watches him punch in the numbers and codes to neutralize the bomb she’s carried inside herself since she was three. It’s done in less than two minutes.

“Do you want me to break this?” he asks, voice soft.

She nods, and watches in fascination as he crushes it in his fist with seemingly no effort.

He smiles at her, tosses the shards into the nearest compactor, and then offers her the hand that isn’t in a glove. She takes it, like she used to take her mom’s before they were separated, and follows him through Mos Pelgo. He’s family. He’s cleanly, clearly freed her. She should be able to trust him.

“Where are we going?” she manages to work up the courage to ask.

His stride stutters a bit, his hand squeezing hers, but his voice is even when he speaks. “Well, I would like you to stay with me, but if you have… have any family to return to, that you know how to find…”

“I don’t know where my mom is,” she says. “She got sold when I was four.”

He squeezes her hand again, and she dares to look at his face. His eyes are squinted, angry, and focused on the horizon. She’d call it stormy, if she’d ever been to a planet of water, but she was a child of the desert. She could feel his anger, and it wasn’t hot and sharp and blinding enough to be a storm of sand.

(She felt that it could be, in the intuition that had kept her alive these past years.)

“I see,” he says. “I’m… okay, then. I’d try to find her if I could, but I don’t know how to do that.”

Shmi shrugs. “She was sent to Jabba’s. I don’t think she’s… um. She’s probably dead, now.”

He’s silent in response to that.

“How did you find me?” she asks, because her intuition says to trust this man to keep her alive, even if she thinks she may not trust his temper.

He thinks about that for a second, and then lets go of her hand for a moment to brush aside a layer of his tunic.

A lightsaber.

Her eyes dart up to his, wide and maybe a little awed. He grins, a little more carefree than before.

“Jeedai?”

“A full Jedi knight, believe it or not,” he confirms. “The Force led me to find you. I don’t think I’d have been able to do locate you without it.”

“Wizard,” she whispers, and then he pulls her into his side and out of the way of a large, too-fast-for-these-streets speeder.

He swears under his breath in a language she doesn’t recognize.

“So, I’m going with you,” she says. “Um, where… where do Jedi live?”

“The Temple is on Coruscant,” he tells her. “But I’ve got business in Mandalorian space, so that’s where I’m based out of right now.”

“Okay,” she says. Mandalore… maybe that’s why he’s got armor like one of them. “I… I heard that Jedi are all called Master, so—”

“No,” Anakin snaps, turning around and getting to one knee in front of her again, hands on both her shoulders, stopping her in a fraction of a second with a look so intense that it scares her. “No, you are never to call me that. You are never going to bow your head to a master again, okay? You are free, and you are family.”

She stares at him for a long second, and then nods. She thinks her head jerks a bit too sharply, but he’s scary. He cares so much that it frightens her. He must be able to tell, because he closes his eyes and visibly forces himself to calm down.

“I was freed when I was nine,” he tells her. “By a Jedi Master. And I know… I know how uncomfortable it is to live like that, where the word means something different to you than it does to everyone else. I became a Jedi, so I learned to make it mean what it was supposed to, respect for teachers and—and elders. But you, you’re not a Jedi, you’re just a girl, and you matter, and—don’t make yourself say it. Please.”

“Okay,” she says. “Do I just… do I just call you Anakin, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he says, and his hands twitch on her shoulders. She thinks he wants to pull her into a hug, but is forcing himself to stop. “Or Ani, if you want, my—my mom used to call me that. Seems like something to keep for family.”

“Okay,” she says again. She can do that.

“Or, um,” he hesitates, and then barrels on. “We’ll be in Mandalore. They say ori’vod to mean older sibling. So, er, you can call me that. If you want. You don’t have to.”

She’ll have to practice. It looks like it means a lot to him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” he says, and dithers for a moment before he stands up and turns around, black robes flaring. “Come on, let’s get out of the sun.”

He leads her to just outside the city limits, where there’s a small ship waiting, enough for a half-dozen people on longer trips, maybe. She doesn’t know much about ships, but this one’s covered in scratches and pits, like it’s been in fights and come out the other side.

They open the door, and are met with wailing.

Anakin rushes past her, shouting, “Ben!”

Shmi doesn’t follow immediately, but he’s been pretty insistent that she’s family, not property. She’s allowed inside.

She finds Anakin in the main room, holding a baby and bouncing it in his arms as he hisses a demand to a boy only a few years older than Shmi herself.

“—my kids, Jango!”

“I’m here to babysit the ship, not the baby!” the teenager argues back.

Anakin scoffs and turns his attention to the baby in his arms. Shmi isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks the baby is definitely less than a year old. It quiets in his arms, tiny hands fisting in the fabric she knows is still too hot from the sun outside.

“Shmi, you can sit down,” he tells her, distracted. “I’d love to talk more but I think I need to make a bottle for Ben. I’ll be back in a few.”

She looks around, sees a bench, and sits down. She presses her hands together in her lap, keeps her eyes on the japor charm her mother left with her years ago, hanging around her wrist. She can wait. She’s patient. She’ll figure out how freedom works eventually.

“Mmmmmmbook!”

Shmi jolts in her seat as a very small body collides with her leg, blue and white and giggling. The head of that small body turns up to stare at her with massive eyes, and she sees the child’s face is orange. Togruta, she thinks, and very young.

The little one pushes a flimsi book onto Shmi’s lap and pats at it, grinning up at Shmi with tiny, pearly teeth.

“Ad’ika, she just got here,” the-teenager-that-is-probably-named-Jango sighs, dropping into the seat next to Shmi. “Let her rest.”

“Sto-wee!” the baby Togruta insists, patting at Shmi’s leg. The little one tries to climb up onto the bench, and Shmi reaches out to help after she realizes the toddler is about to slip. She receives, in thanks, a delighted grin and a montral to the ribs as the child hugs her.

“’m Soka!” the little one introduces.

“She’s one of Skywalker’s,” probably-Jango says. “He showed up with those two a few months ago in the middle of a chaak’la snowstorm.”

“No!” Soka insists, slapping her little hand on the book a few times. “No ‘ssip! Book!”

Jango lets his head fall against the metal wall behind them. “Fine. No gossip.”

Shmi looks at the little girl, and then back at the book. She’s… well, she can read. Mostly. She can read better than most slaves her age, but this is Basic, not Huttese.

She cracks it open to the first page, finds herself relieved that it really is a children’s story with small words and big letters, and starts reading it out loud. She goes slow. The story is about an eopie trying to find its way home after getting lost, asking other farm animals for help. There are plenty of pictures, and sometimes Soka pats at the book and shouts the name of an animal. It’s very cute, overall.

About two-thirds of the way through, she stumbles. It’s a word she hasn’t seen before, long and with repeating letters that she can’t quite figure out how to say. She pauses, long enough that she’s sure little Soka is confused about why she’s stopped.

“Happabore,” Jango mutters.

Shmi lifts her head, but he’s not looking at her. She looks down at the book again, mouths the letters to herself, and thinks that yes, that probably fits. She keeps reading aloud, letting little Soka tell her about her favorite animals, and when she finishes and looks up, it’s to find Anakin standing across from them.

He’s leaning against a doorframe, bottle-feeding the baby named Ben, and watching them with an expression Shmi thinks might be ‘wistful.’

“Skyguy!” Little Soka cheers, sliding off the bench so she can toddle over to the man as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Skyguy, gots a fweind!”

He smiles indulgently and lets her hug his leg. “I can see that, Snips. You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh!” the little one tells him. She raises her hands at him. “Up!”

“Sorry, hun, no can do,” Anakin apologizes. “I’m feeding Ben, and I need both hands for that.”

She pouts, and he jerks his chin at Shmi and Jango. “Go back to the bench and you can help me feed him, okay?”

Soka races back.

“Fett, go get the ship powered up,” Anakin says as he ambles over, voice the kind of casually commanding that gives Shmi goosebumps. It’s not familiar, not the way an owner is, but it’s… it’s a voice that’s very used to having authority. “I want us out of here as soon as possible.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am the commanding officer according to Jaster,” Anakin says, and Shmi watches him raise an eyebrow. “I know it’s not much of a mission, but I am in charge until we’re back on Concord Dawn. You want me to tell him you’re playing at insubordination?”

Jango makes a face, sticking out his tongue. Anakin waits.

Jango goes to start the ship.

“Teenagers,” Anakin mutters, shaking his head. “I want to say I was never that bad, but I’d be lying.”

Soka giggles, bouncing in her seat as Anakin carefully lowers himself down next to her. “Okay, okay, settle down. He’s cranky, kiddo.”

“Wanna help,” Soka stresses, reaching for the bottle. Anakin shifts away from her, keeping it out of her reach. “Skyguy!”

“Slow down, Snips,” he chides. “Climb on my lap and we can hold him together, okay?”

Shmi fiddles with her japor snippet, but she can’t help her fascination with the dynamic presented. Anakin obviously isn’t related to Soka by blood, but he’s adopted her as his own. They haven’t said as much, but it’s obvious. He can’t stop smiling as he talks the girl through holding the bottle for her baby brother, even though it’s obvious from the outside that he’s the one actually holding it, and her, and the baby.

The ship hums to life around them. Anakin tilts his head, as if listening to something, and then goes back to the baby.

It’s another minute before Anakin says, “Okay, that’s enough. I need to burp him. Go on, scoot.”

Soka grimaces as well as a two-year-old can, and slides off of Anakin’s lap onto the bench. He stands and presses the baby up to his shoulder, patting it on the back. There’s a towel there already, something Shmi hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I’m going to go check on Jango,” he tells them. “Shmi, can you get Soka in her seat? I’ll tell you how to buckle her in, but I promised Jango he could fly us back and I want to sit up there to make sure he gets us into hyperspace without, say, exploding.”

It’s only a minute or two to get both of them sat down and buckled in, and Soka spends the entire time until lift-off telling Shmi about how much she likes eopies. This continues well until they end up in hyperspace, the jolt of it making the little one squeal in excitement, even if Shmi feels her stomach drop out. Shortly after, the boys wander back in.

“We’re good for a couple hours,” Anakin says. “Nav computer’s got it until we jump back out. Anyone want a snack?”

“Me!” Soka screeches, bouncing in her seat. “Jan-Jan, snacktime!”

Anakin’s eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “Well, seems like you’ve got a fan, Fett.”

“Shut up,” Jango grumbles, but he does go over and pick Soka out of her child seat, setting her on his hip and going in the direction of what Shmi assumes is the galley.

“You doin’ okay?” Anakin asks, carefully taking the seat next to her. He sits Ben up on his lap, but the baby has trouble staying in that position. Anakin takes his hands, letting tiny fists curl around his thumbs, to help him stay up.

“It’s a lot,” she says. “But I am happy to be free.”

He grins at her. “Glad to hear it. It’s a lot to adjust to, I know, but… I’m happy to have you with us.”

She nods, eyes on the baby that’s swaying from side to side as Anakin moves his hands, like a very, very small speeder pilot.

“Is he, um, yours?” Shmi asks. “Or did you adopt, like Soka?”

Anakin’s smile, so full of love, drops off. He presses his lips into a thin line, and for a moment, Shmi wonders if she’s made a horrible misstep.

“What… what do you know about Jedi relationships?” Anakin asks, voice quiet.

“Nothing,” she admits, but she’s not ashamed of that. Nobody knows much about the Jedi.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to her. “Okay, so… okay. There are a couple ranks in the Order. Younglings go in the crèche, communally raised in groups, and then when they’re five or so, they get to become Initiates. A few years later, usually between ten and fourteen, they can enter an apprenticeship to a Jedi Knight or Master, and the apprentice rank is Padawan. When the apprenticeship is done, they become Knights, basically journeymen, and at some point after that, Masters. There are positions that technically rank higher, councils and heads of divisions, and there’s stuff outside the apprenticeship system, like the service corps, but that’s not super relevant. It’s complicated but we’re only focusing on the apprenticeship path for knights.”

He hesitates, and then continues. “One of the ways to become a Master in the Order is to successfully raise a Padawan to knighthood. I was never an Initiate, because I came to the Order so much later than most. I immediately became a Padawan, and my master was freshly knighted. The relationship between master and padawan is… it’s family. Some of the more orthodox of the Order don’t like to put it in those words, but it really is.

“If I ever talk about my Master, just know I’m not talking about any of the owners I had before I was freed. I’m talking about the man who raised me, the man I saw as a father. He may not have seen me as a son, more a brother, but he was only sixteen years older than me, and… anyway. Jedi lineages are family. Your Master is a parent, or an older sibling, and your Padawan is a child to bring up as your own,” he finishes this off with the kind of deep, heavy breath that she thinks precedes grief. She can’t tell.

“My master is… well, he’s not in a position to teach anyone anything anymore. Ben here is all I have left of him.”

Oh.

Oh.

Anakin doesn’t look at her, just stares down at the baby that’s gotten cranky again, and rearranges Ben to lie sideways in his arms. He smiles down as the baby burbles up at him, and tickles at the baby’s stomach. Ben grabs at Anakin’s fingers and kicks at the air, laughing in the manner of all children that small.

The man hums, and Shmi is more shocked than she should be to hear one of the lullabies she’s heard in slave quarters all her life.

“He’s your son now,” she says, more firmly than she feels. “He is yours to raise and care for, and I can tell you love him as much as any parent.”

Anakin lifts his head, staring at her like he can’t quite believe she’s there, and tears collect at the edges of his eyes.

“Thank you, Shmi Skywalker,” he says, and she feels like there’s more weight in those words than there should be. He licks his lips, eyes darting away for a second, and then asks, “do you want to hold him?”

She steels herself, and nods.

This is her family now.

Hers.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Runaway Ride

Fandom: Never Have I Ever Pairing: Devi/Paxton Rating: T Word Count: 4889

Summary: Kamala gets herself into a pickle, Devi needs to go to her, and Paxton has a car. Problem-solving has never been so simple, but that's how it is when your new boyfriend is Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Throw in a little hand-holding on the highway and this family crisis might just be the best date Devi will ever have.

When they finally took a break from dancing—disconnecting hands from hips and shoulders, lips from lips—Devi stepped away in a dreamy headspace. She almost collided with Jonah, but he didn’t tell her to look where she was going, only offered a shrewd, indulgent smile.

Actually, everybody was treating her like that; every eye that caught hers on her way to the table where she’d left her stuff was unjudgmental, admiring, straight up fairy-godmotherly. Devi hadn’t received this much notice since her dad’s death and her subsequent paralysis. And those looks had been pitying, freaked out. Positive attention was new and cool and she wondered, as she grabbed her phone out of her turquoise clutch, whether her socials would show more of the same when she opened them. Would people have snapped stealthy pics of her and Paxton dancing now that she’d been vaulted into the pseudo-celebrity strata of the high school hierarchy? Would the Insta posts be captioned with hashtags of their ship name? Paxi? Daxton? Vishwall-Yoshumar?

Devi never got to check.

Unlocking her phone, she found two missed calls from her mother. Maybe two wouldn’t have seemed like a whole lot to someone else, but Devi knew that, in order for her mom to risk rudeness by stepping away from the company she was hosting at home not once but twice, she’d need to be pretty frantic. Two missed calls from Nalini Vishwakumar were the equivalent of six or seven from any other mother.

Skirting the edges of the gym as she headed away from DJ Humanoid—that nit-witted saboteur of slow dances—Devi was about to call her mom back when her screen changed to an incoming call from Kamala. She pressed her other hand to her ear and answered it.

“Hey. Do you know what’s going on with my mom? She called me twice and, honestly, she knows I’m at the d—”

“Devi, shut up. Sorry,” Kamala sighed. “But I may have kidnapped your history teacher and now I’m panicking a little.”

Devi stopped in her tracks.

“You did what? Why is the sound weird?”

As she was trying to identify the background noise coming from Kamala’s end, her eyes swept over the crowd of her classmates and landed on Fabiola’s. Her friend had been smiling, mid-sway as she held Eve from behind and chatted with Sasha, but it fell off her face like Devi off Dr. Jackson’s roof. Fab disentangled herself from her girlfriend and crossed the room to stand with Devi. She was frowning, silently asking for an explanation for Devi’s distress, but Devi didn’t really have one yet.

“We’re in his car on the highway,” her cousin was saying. “He was a little drunk, so I’m driving.”

Devi had imagined that Kamala was exaggerating, but no, this was really starting to sound like a kidnapping.

“You better be on hands-free right now,” she lectured. Then, because she wasn’t exactly a paragon of road safety herself—barely an hour ago, she’d walked right out in front of Paxton’s jeep—didn’t wait for confirmation. “What the hell happened? Context, Kamala!”

“Well, as soon as I snuck out of the house—”

“But why did you sneak out?!”

“Devi, I can’t talk about that right now!” Devi’s eyebrows shot up at the clear and abnormal hysteria in her cousin’s voice. “I ran out of the house,” Kamala continued, “totally directionless, and the first thing that popped into my head was Manish’s invitation for me to come to karaoke…”

“Ew, what the fuck, don’t call Mr. K that.”

What? Fab mouthed at her, but Devi shook her head.

“That is his name and what he asked me to call him. Anyway,” Kamala said, sounding strained, “I went to your school and met up with him and now I’m driving his car and I think I might have shut my sari in the car door, but I’m scared to pull over and check because if I stop the car, I’m going to have to confront things and I think I’d rather not do that yet.”

“Kamala,” Devi said in a heavy, careful voice. “You have to pull over. I totally get what you’re saying because it sounds like something I might do—minus the part where you kidnapped Mr. K—” Fabiola’s eyes went dramatically wide as she was adjusting her tiara. “—but this isn’t you. You don’t run away from your obligations and elope with my teachers!”

“Manish and I didn’t elope. It isn’t in any way romantic.”

“For sure though? It’s not?” Devi heard another voice in the car ask.

“Mr. K, back off! Kamala’s in the middle of a crisis!” she shouted. “And please be drunk enough to forget that I yelled at you.”

“Devi, what should I do?” Kamala asked, sounding desperate in a sad way now.

“Where are you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Ok, well, which direction are you heading in?”

“Um, either north or south.”

“You’re a disaster,” Devi muttered.

“What was that?”

“Uh… I said, don’t drive any faster. Try to read the next sign you pass so you can tell me where you are.”

“Alright,” Kamala said.

Devi tilted her phone away from her mouth so her cousin wouldn’t hear her frustrated sigh. She locked eyes with Fabiola.

“Kamala panicked at her engagement dinner and ran off with Mr. K. They’re either headed for Mexico or Canada, but I’ll know more in a minute.”

Fab blinked.

“Wow.”

“I know. It’s a lot. And this is me talking,” Devi emphasized.

“I don’t know if you would do anything this big. Mainly because you don’t have a driver’s license.”

“True.”

“Santa Barbara in twenty-six miles,” Kamala said in her ear.

“Damn, you made good time.”

“The traffic was quite manageable.”

“Try to calm down a little and get off the highway when you can. Don’t go past Santa Barbara. I’m coming to talk you down in person,” Devi said. “Oh, and don’t answer any of my mom’s calls; she’ll just stress you out.”

“That doesn’t seem very responsible. How about I send her a text when I stop to let her know I’m ok?”

Devi rolled her eyes.

“Suit yourself.”

“Thank you, Devi. But how will you get here?”

“Let me worry about that. Text me when you stop so I know exactly where I’m going.”

“I will.”

“’K. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Devi hung up and sighed massively, slumping into the wall and feeling a streamer crumple against her back. She and Fabiola stared at each other.

“What are you gonna do?” Fab asked.

“Be the hero my family needs, but not the one they deserve.”

“Are you misquoting Batman to justify doing something reckless?”

“First of all, rescuing Kamala isn’t reckless, and second of all, the movie isn’t called Batman, it’s The Dark Knight. Young-ish Christian Bale, hello.”

Fabiola pointed a finger at her own face.

“Young-ish out-of-touch lesbian, hello. At least I was close.”

Devi sighed again while Fab smiled sadly at her in obvious sympathy.

“It’s after ten at night. How am I gonna get to Santa Barbara?”

“Assuming you’re not going to ask your mom—”

“No.”

“Then you need a ride.”

“You need a ride? I’ll drive you.”

It was Paxton, walking up and tentatively taking Devi’s hand while darting uncertain glances at Fabiola. Devi felt her entire face light up.

“You don’t want to know where or why?” she teased.

His expression said those were insignificant details. Wow. Devi’d never had a fantasy where Paxton joined forces with her, bounty hunter-style, to track down a flighty Kamala, but this felt oddly romantic. Passionate even? They’d see where the night took them.

“You wouldn’t wanna leave the dance unless it was serious,” Paxton reasoned. “So, I’ll drive you. You wanna go now?”

“I guess we better. Lemme just grab my…”

“I’ll get it,” Fab said, raising a hand like the nerd she was as she volunteered.

She darted back through the dancers to grab Devi’s things and Devi watched their classmates part for their Cricket Queen. She was so proud of Fab. Also, she felt kinda bad for ditching such a momentous occasion. But Kamala needed her, and would totally do the same for her if she ever went off the deep end and kidnapped a dude while fleeing a proposal. Not that Devi could see herself fleeing a proposal (she glanced at Paxton as she thought this, then quickly away, thinking, Way too soon!). Carrying out a kidnapping? With a sufficiently convincing pro-and-con list, anything was possible.

“Basically, Kamala freaked and drove to Santa Barbara with a drunken Mr. K,” Devi said, because Paxton might not have asked to be informed, but she wanted him to know what he was getting himself into. Beyond that, she wanted to give him the chance to say, No way, Devi. I came here to look hot and dance up on you, nothing more.

“Oh shit,” was what he said.

“Damn right, oh shit. You still want to drive? This is going to take a while.”

She should probably have felt guilty about trying to subtly persuade him with her eyes, but not only was Paxton the least complicated option, he was also her first choice. If she maintained eye contact long enough, Devi figured it might trigger some kind of boyfriend override that made going for a long drive at night just as appealing as staying here and dancing with her butt pressed thrillingly to his groin when the teacher-chaperones weren’t looking.

“As long as we can hit up the bathrooms first. I was going to, but then I got talking to Trent, and then Marcus was doing a handstand…”

“Definitely,” Devi assured him. “Good call. Empty the tank. Oh, actually, that reminds me… how much gas do you have in your jeep? If we need to stop at a gas station, I’ll have to factor that in to the ETA I give Kamala.”

Paxton shook his head at her, smiling in what she liked to think was affectionate amusement.

“I filled it up on the way here. I needed a minute to, uh…” To her epic astonishment, he ducked his head self-consciously, cheeks pinking. “You know. Get my shit together. Up here.” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “I wanted to show up for you, like, completely. You know?”

Right as Devi was at dangerously high risk of sagging to the floor in blissful bonelessness, Fabiola sprang to her side, shoving the rest of her possessions at her.

“Ok, ok!” Devi said, harried.

She had to dump it all on the bathroom counter a minute later anyway, but after she’d done her pre-road trip pee, she came out and gave Fab a better thank-you.

“Your Highness,” Paxton told Fabiola with a nod.

Fab nodded back, smiling wryly.

“Prosecutor.”

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Devi assessed, “but we gotta go! Say congrats to Eve for me again!”

“Sure. Drive safe!”

Devi and Paxton pushed through the doors together, striding quickly with his hand wrapped around hers. In the parking lot, she glanced sideways to see him digging his keychain out of his front pocket.

“Oh,” she said, “so I wasn’t just feeling that you were very happy to dance with me.”

Until they got into the jeep, it was too dark to see whether she’d gotten him to blush again, but she liked to think that she had. He was definitely smiling.

They got in and Devi carefully tucked her skirt around her legs, mind on Kamala’s cautionary tale. At least it was until Paxton leaned forward to shrug out of his jacket and she saw his shoulder muscles jump beneath his fitted button-down, his narrow black tie swinging forward. Dang. Fifty shades of Hall-Yoshida.

“Santa Barbara?” Paxton double-checked once he was settled behind the wheel, steering out of the student lot.

“Santa Barbara.”

Until they were on the highway and heading out of Los Angeles, Devi did her best to keep her worry about Kamala’s situation contained to the way she flapped her phone against her thigh. Usually, she was stressing about the problems right in front of her (when she wasn’t blatantly ignoring them, only to have that approach bite her in the ass later), but with whatever was going on with Kamala, she kinda had to look ahead.

Had she wanted Kamala to get engaged to Prashant that badly? Well, the best thing about Prashant was that you never knew when having additional hot relatives would be to your benefit. (Devi was already hoping that Mr. K would get over the more nerve-wracking elements of this night and just remember having fun with her stunning cousin… and that this could possibly translate into at least a month of generous grades, if she could somehow spin these shenanigans as an intentional blind date arranged by herself.) However, an engaged Kamala was wholly different from a married Kamala. She wouldn’t be around to watch nonsensical episodes of Riverdale, or be duped into hijinks, or listen to Devi when her mom was too tired, or bitch about her shitty lab-mates in exchange for sitting through Devi bitching about her complicated feelings on the subject of Aneesa dating her ex. She wouldn’t live with them anymore, and the family that had begun to miraculously fill out after her dad had died would be back down to three. And the other two members of it would be old (Sorry, Mom, she thought) and not at all prepared to champion her dating life or the cleavage-accentuating formal dress currently buoying it.

So, yeah, Devi was looking ahead—eyes glazed over as the yellow lights of cars slipped around them to prevent her vision from fully adjusting to the blue-black sky—and feeling more than a little nervous and scared of the Kamala-shaped hole she’d have in her life if her dazzling, dorky cousin left her house for one she might eventually fill with the most beautiful children the world had ever seen.

Thankfully, Paxton was there. It startled her when he took one hand off the wheel and felt across her lap to grab hers, loosely interlacing their fingers. Devi quit hitting her phone against her leg. She sent off their updated location to Kamala and then let her phone fall flat.

“Did she say where she was?” Her boyfriend’s voice was quiet in the car and she realized for the first time that her head had been too crammed with thoughts to put on any music.

“Carpinteria State Beach. Do you know the exit?”

“We’ll find it.”

“And if you want me to drive while you rest on the way back…”

Paxton laughed.

“No way. Safety first.”

“Says the guy driving one-handed,” Devi countered, not that she was eager to surrender the hand warming hers.

He turned his head just long enough to shoot her a look.

“Whoa, pal, eyes on the road!” she said. (She had a half-baked plan to call her boyfriend ‘pal’ a few times and thereby de-weaponize the word in a memory that still felt like a fading bruise, an almost-gone sore spot in who she and Paxton were before they were openly a them.)

“Sorry,” he said, staring out the windshield again. He grinned. “You look gorgeous.”

“Really?”

“So gorgeous.” Paxton’s voice was softer this time, the underlying laugh it had carried since she’d offered to drive his jeep drained out of it. It was nearly a sigh.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“You know, I feel fucking awful for hitting you with my car, but I still think I mighta felt worse if I’d walked in and seen you dancing with somebody else.”

Devi twisted their hands, touching the back of his to her thigh so she was sandwiching it between leg and palm for a moment, aiming for reassuring.

“I wanna say I would never be that flaky, but my previous offenses speak for themselves.”

“So does doing this with me.”

“Uh,” she droned, “to recap, you left a fun thing to do a huge favour for me. You’re talking about it like this is my act of redemption. I feel like if you examine it for a sec, you’ll see how I’m actually kind of a dick for accepting your help.”

“I want us to be together,” he said bluntly. “Here we are. Together.”

“It’s that simple?”

“I don’t see why it can’t be.”

“Huh. I think you’re really gonna be good for my tendency to overcomplicate a situation.”

Paxton laughed and unthreaded his fingers from Devi’s. But it wasn’t to release her for pointing out that this date was, in actual fact, the coordinated response to a family crisis; his fingertips moved lightly over her palm, momentarily trapped when her fingers flinched inward in reaction to how it tickled, then traced along the thin skin of her inner wrist. He wasn’t trying to pull away. He was lingering. Though his touch when he sunk his hand into her hair or drew her closer by her waist had always been fairly gentle, it had often had the faint aggression of hastiness to it, clutching her as they made out in her room, always listening for footsteps in the hallway. How Paxton touched her now was pure, exploratory tenderness. It made the hairs on the back of Devi’s neck stand up as a wave of shivers rushed up her spine and crested somewhere around the nape of her neck.

He must’ve felt that wave break, the foamy aftereffects in some tic of her arm or quickening of her pulse while his fingers skimmed gradually up the inside of her arm towards her elbow, because he chanced another quick glance at her.

“That feels good,” she explained.

Paxton looked forward, nodding slowly, and shifted in the driver’s seat.

“Good.”

She thought it must have felt good for him too, knowing he’d made her shiver.

—

The miles were flicking past for Paxton—another, another, another, as fast and steady as the dashed lines painted between the lanes, his arms cutting the water on the front crawl. He wanted Devi, beside him, to believe that he was paying attention to his driving, but he was honestly kinda zoned out. Like that time he’d swum to San Diego, he let his body go through the motions (in this case, twitching the wheel, putting on cruise control when traffic thinned so he didn’t have to focus on the pedals) while his mind floated freely.

Where it floated was to his girlfriend.

At ten years old, he’d been the last kid in his swim class to jump off the 10m board. It was optional—a treat after getting water up their noses turning somersaults below the surface and doing egg-beater legs in between—but all the other boys in the group had done it eagerly, shrieking on their way down to sloppy pencil dives. Paxton had climbed the stairs all the way to the top easily enough, even stepped onto the wide platform, bordered by metal railings and rough under his bare feet. He’d walked out to the end and frozen to find himself so high above the pool.

He hadn’t feared the water, he’d feared the air. Being so exposed on his own at the end of the diving board. Eventually, he’d retreated, then surprised the coach waiting down at the poolside by turning around and taking the jump at a run. Few memories felt as good as the sensation of giving himself back to gravity and letting it reunite him with the water. He’d just had to get past the exposure.

Same thing tonight, going to find Devi at the dance. Holding her hand in his had been him reaching the platform, but when they stood together, just inside the school’s doors, Paxton hadn’t known for sure whether he would take the leap or retreat. And not just for a running start this time, but in a way that turned his sixteen-year-old present self back into one of those nervous ten-year-olds who wimped out and had to take the coward’s way down—descending each step they’d climbed. He might not have run, and yet he hadn’t needed to back up and race into their relationship either. Momentum hadn’t carried them inside for everyone they knew to see them. It had been a calm approach, even if he’d been shaking on the inside when he saw Trent staring at them.

So maybe Paxton had learned something in the last six years, or maybe it was harder to feel exposed with somebody right next to you.

She really did look gorgeous, like he’d said, and because he didn’t want her to worry about his focus if she spotted him gazing at the side of her face while she texted her cousin, the glances he stole were of the knee region. Her dress’s overlay sparkled when the high lights of eighteen-wheelers passed them and the specific teal of the dress itself reminded him of a river he’d swum in once during an out-of-state family vacation. Natural and deep and fresh, and exasperating for his parents because he’d accidentally doggy-paddled himself all the way to a small waterfall and hadn’t heard them calling him back for dinner around the campfire. He felt all that about Devi, except for hoping for a different reaction from his parents when they met her.

Holy shit. He was going to have to introduce his girlfriend to his embarrassing hippy parents. But then, she’d already met Rebecca, so maybe they were set? A sister’s approval should count for a ton.

No, no, no, Devi would have to meet his parents. He was doing this. The two of them were doing this. Paxton exhaled determinedly through his nose and made himself concentrate on the remaining miles he needed to cover. His mind, anyway. His hand continued to stroke and search, covering his girlfriend’s hand with his until he had her fingers tucked away protectively under his own, and then caressing all the way up to the crook of her elbow so suddenly that she made a noise between a laugh and a yelp because he’d unintentionally tickled her. Man, she was cute.

The very end of their journey required the most concentration from Paxton; he finally took back his hand to have both on the wheel as he steered them off the highway and Devi’s got lonely or something, because it chased across to where he was sitting and landed on his thigh. His jaw clenched. He could feel the heat of her palm through his pantleg and congratulated himself on being a driving legend for driving smoothly to where they needed to park for beach access.

Devi had a pink sweater that she put on, but Paxton grabbed his jacket out of the back as well in case she needed it. It was almost midnight and a breeze rolled up off the water, rippling his tie and swishing Devi’s dress. He didn’t have to ask what they should do next—there was just one other car parked nearby and Devi’s cousin was already standing outside of it, raising a hand to wave sheepishly as they got out of his jeep.

“Here,” he said, holding out his jacket for his girlfriend to put her arms through the sleeves. “You guys talk. I’ll be down at the beach.”

Devi turned her back to him as she accepted the jacket, but she glanced over her shoulder with a look of concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You’ll want privacy. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

“Just don’t swim away, ok?” she requested. “I don’t think I can handle more than one rescue mission per night.”

Paxton could tell by her expression that it wasn’t entirely a joke. He grinned and gripped his lapels, now on Devi, reeling her in.

“I promise. You’d probably take the opportunity to try to drive the jeep home, and I don’t want to risk that.”

“Me committing grand theft auto or me getting hurt?”

“I bet they tested you for smartness,” he said, “but you think they have a test for being a smartass? You’d score high, Vishwakumar.”

“I know, I know, you don’t want me to get hurt.”

She was so infuriatingly flippant, rolling her big brown eyes at him.

“That’s right,” Paxton said plainly. There he was, up on the platform again.

Devi straightened his tie and let her hand rest flat on his chest. He remembered how overwhelmed she’d looked the first time he’d placed her palm there, right on his skin. Even now, it almost made him laugh.

“Ok,” she said, and he was surrendering himself to the sweet strength of gravity, propelled down to the beach while Devi stayed to talk to Kamala.

—

Devi had heard that there were tidepools here, and she was nervous about stepping into one and spearing some aquatic animal on her high heel. Well, she couldn’t magically improve her night vision, but she could take her shoes off and remove the possibility of impalement. They dangled from her fingers as she picked her way down to the beach.

Her boyfriend was sitting in the sand, staring out at the ocean. It just looked so romantic—with the stars the sky was too bright to see at home, and the waves, and the back of Paxton’s white shirt in the moonlight—that Devi decided to slip into the scene without saying anything at all.

A mistake. Paxton gasped and jumped. Apparently, he hadn’t heard her over the noise of the water.

“Sorry, sorry!” she said.

He sighed and smiled, getting to his feet.

“How’d it go?”

“I think it went well. She was feeling calm enough to drive, so she’s on her way home now. She’s gonna cover for me until we get back.”

“That’s good… but what about Mr. Kulkarni?”

“He was passed out in the passenger’s seat,” Devi stated. “I guess he’s kind of a lightweight? Kamala said she’s going to drive back to our school and leave him and his car in the parking lot. She’s planning to call my mom for a ride home. If it were me, I think I’d take the bus and try to sneak back into the house as quietly as possible, but Kamala still has a lot to learn about how to thoroughly dodge your problems.”

“And maybe about how to climb to the second floor of your house from the outside?” Paxton suggested with a meaningful smirk.

She did her best to return it, but the odds were that it didn’t look nearly as sexy on her. Then again, she had moonlight and midnight and well-displayed cleavage on her side.

“How’d you learn to do that so quietly anyway?” Devi asked, tossing her shoes to the sand and stepping forward to boldly wrap her arms around Paxton’s waist.

He’d had his hands in his pockets, but as soon as she’d begun to move towards him, he’d pulled them out. His arms encircled her, his hands on the back of his own black jacket. Although Devi wanted to offer him the jacket back—he felt slightly chilly through his shirt—she didn’t want the two of them to separate. Besides, body heat was a thing. This was practically what it was for. So Devi just pressed herself closer, breathing the scent of the ocean and Paxton’s fading cologne.

“Trent,” he said.

“Yeah, actually, that checks out.”

Were there boundaries between warming someone up while having a conversation and just hugging them? It wasn’t clear to Devi, but it felt good when they both went quiet for a while. She stood unevenly on the cold sand and listened to the thud of Paxton’s heart.

“You never said yes,” he said eventually, quietly.

“Yes to what?”

“I told you I came to the dance as your boyfriend and you never actually agreed to be my girlfriend. We kinda just started making out.”

Devi lifted her cheek from his chest so she could look at him. He didn’t appear disappointed, more like he was making an observation. Maybe he’d been reflecting, out here in the dark, while she and Kamala had talked.

“In my books, that’s an obvious yes,” she said, grinning. “What more do you need?”

She could see him trying not to smile.

“A little atmosphere would be nice,” Paxton said. “Maybe a long drive, or the beach. A full moon. Romance me, Vishwakumar.”

Devi vibrated with silent laughter. Or her heart was just beating really, really freaking hard.

“Sounds like you’ve got some pretty big expectations there.”

“And stars,” he added. “There should be a shitload of stars.”

With that, he took one hand off her back to point far above them. Devi tipped her head back, the light of the stars a friendly blur as she tried to pick one to settle on, just one. Paxton’s face coming forward to hover over hers blotted them out. Her boyfriend kissed her, light and ghosting and then firm and slow.

“On the other hand,” he said, pulling back a little, “I think we were onto something with the making out.”

Devi smiled and dug her toes into the sand to make herself taller, lips at the ready and realigned with his.

“We did set a precedent.”

[darkmulti]

What would yandere!Jungook do if you ran away with your guys child?

⚠️: HEAVY, YANDERE BEHAVIOUR

You didn’t plan on getting pregnant

But when you found out, you wanted to keep it

It was actually Jungkook’s fault

You told him you weren’t on birth control but he came in you anyways

When you told him you were pregnant, he distanced himself from you

Jungkook didn’t know what he wanted to do

When he thought about his future, it was only you and him

Your attention would always be on him

All your love goes into his heart

And Jungkook does not like to share

He wanted you to get an abortion but the sadness on your face made his heart clench

You were too scared to speak up to tell him no, but your face said it all and Jungkook let you keep your child

Jungkook never imagined kids in his future life because of his traumatic childhood

It’s the reason why he’s like this

Jungkook’s heart warmed up when he saw the smile on your face

You hugged his bigger body and kissed him

“Thank you, Koo!”

The next couple of months, you tried to be the perfect housewife

Making dinner, cleaning, spending time with Jungkook

You wanted it to seem like this baby wouldn’t change your guys life completely even though you knew you were very wrong

Jungkook wasn’t dumb

He also knew this baby would be a big change for both of you

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook took you out to do some baby shopping

You and Jungkook cleaned out one of the guest bedroom and turned it into the baby’s room

As your baby bump started to get bigger, Jungkook was afraid to leave you alone in the house

So he started working from home

he started to cook and clean too

“Sit down and don’t overwork yourself, baby. If you stress out, it’ll affect our child.”

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook was actually gentle and caring about you

He continued to be a charming man until you gave birth to a beautiful baby boy

After you gave birth, he became cold again

You took care of your son while Jungkook was at work

Before Jungkook comes back, you put your baby to sleep and take out dinner for Jungkook

You spend all your time talking to him, kissing him, all your attention has to be on him when he’s home

This way of life went on for three years

Your son barely got any attention from his father

Jungkook didn’t even try to acknowledge him

You were terrified to bring this up to Jungkook, knowing that he didn’t want a kid

He wouldn’t listen to you and would say it’s only your child, not his

One day, while you were making dinner, your son was in the living room watching a show

Suddenly you heard the door unlock and saw Jungkook coming inside with a stern look on his face

You immediately stop cutting the vegetables and greet him

“Baby, you’re home extra early.”

You kiss him lips then walk back to the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t get mad at your son for being in the living room

“Why is he out? Go lock him in his room. I don’t want to see him, Y/N.”

Jungkook started walking towards your son and you sprint to him, thinking Jungkook would do something to him

“STOP! I-I’ll take him upstairs.”

“But mommy, it’s not my bedtime yet.”

Your son chirped

You picked up your son and took him upstairs and handed him an iPad

“Here baby. Watch your videos on here but stay in your room okay. Please listen to mommy.”

“Okay mommy!” He said cheerfully

You went back downstairs to see Jungkook watching a kid show

You give him the remote but he doesn’t change the channel

“I don’t want him in my house. I’ve talked to my friend and he’s willing to adopt your son.”

Your heart broke into two pieces

Your whole body started to shake

“N-no.” You whispered out, eyes watering

“Please, Jungkook. I-I can’t.”

“I’m not giving you a choice. This is my house!”

“Please! I’ll do anything! Anything to keep him! Please!”

“No! I made up my mind.” Jungkook went upstairs and you stood there in shook

The next day, you packed some of your clothes and some of your sons clothes

Jungkook had lots of security, but you were willing to take the risk

You can’t have your son taken away from you

It would break you completely

You left the house with your son in your arms and took one of his cars

You drove far away from his house and into a city

After you sold the car to a drug dealer and used to cash to stay at a hotel

You had sixty four thousand dollars in cash

It should last you for a while

In the meantime, you can find a job and apartment to stay at with your son

Weeks went past and you got a job as a teacher which was perfect since your son will be attending school too

You bought an apartment that was big enough for the both of you

It took some time for your son to adjust, but he really trusted and loved you

Everything that you’ve done, you did it for him

Jungkook was back home, breaking everything in sight

“FIND HER!” He yelled at his men, breaking all the plates like a mad man

They tracked down the car that you used but they figured out later that you sold it, so they couldn’t track you anymore

Jungkook was so pissed off

He got access to the traffic cameras and followed your car around to see where you went

He saw you drive into the city and that was enough for him

He got into his car and drove to the city where he searched every inch until he found you

Jungkook figured out that you were working at a school

He parked his car and waited for you and your son to come out

You hold your sons hand and walked out of the school, only to see Jungkook leaning against the hood of his car, eyes never leaving yours

“Dad?” The little boy said, in confusion

Jungkook started to walk towards you guys and you were backing away

You picked up your son and tried to run inside, only to see the office ladies being held at gun point by his men

You turn around and Jungkook was already in front of you

You held your son tightly

“W-what do you want from me?”

“I want my wife back.”

“I’m not going back. You can’t take my son away from me! You can’t!”

You son started to sob on your shoulder

“M-mommy, what’s going on?”

“Shhh, don’t cry. Please be strong for mommy.”

You peck your sons cheek, rubbing his back to calm him down

“I’ll willingly go back only if you let him stay with us. I’m not asking you to take care of him, I’ll do that myself.”

“Fine. As long as I have you back.”

Jungkook stepped closer and put his arms out for your son

“Let me hold him.”

You hesitated, but gave your son to him since you were right there

Your son held onto him and looked into his eyes

“You have the same eyes as me.”

Jungkook smiled and kissed your sons forehead

He took him to the car and you followed behind carefully

When you arrived back home, Jungkook become soft for his son, but for you it was a different story

Punishments every night

He hated you for leaving him

You were gone for almost two months and it drove him crazy

He would degrade you for leaving him

He would mark you everywhere

Become extra possessive and protective

High level security

You were always being watched by him

Rough sex sessions every night, for the next three months until you get pregnant again

That was a shitty ass ending... forgive me

SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES

I’m half asleep rn:)

[paperpocalypse]

neodymium.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 49. You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out + 50. I’m scared but won’t admit it so you take my hand

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,572 words

Warning: Swearing, science applications that would probably shame your physics teacher

It’s starting to snow.

You keep your hand on the cold, metal cross bar, pressing down but unwilling to open the door. The thin, plastic bag in your other hand rustles as you twist it up in your fingers, pills rattling around in their bottles as you swing it back and forth. A frown tugs at the corners of your mouth.

Winter is here, and you don’t like it. You used to. But that was back then, when you were allowed to wear winter jackets and gloves and scarves and thick, fluffy hats to protect your ears from the biting cold. The snowflakes were a lot prettier when you didn’t have to feel them melt through your hoodie, cold and wet, every time you had to go outside.

Now you have to toughen up because heroes deal with the cold.

“Warm thoughts,” you mumble to yourself, gritting your teeth and pushing the door open. The bell jingles as a freezing slap of air greets your face. “Warm thoughts.”

You step out of the drugstore and into the night, pulling your hood on and tugging the drawstrings taut. The streetlamps light a path across the road and down the sidewalk towards home. At least it’s just a fifteen-minute walk.

For the past few years, on account of you attending the Umbrella Academy, you’ve never felt unsafe walking through the City alone. One of the pros of being trained as a hero, though you’re not quite sure if it outweighs the cons of Mom selling your warmest clothes and the grueling, rigid routine of training and missions during the week. The crime rate in this part of the city isn’t that high, anyway, on account of it being one of the nicer, richer areas. Mom had been delighted when the two of you moved here to be closer to the Hargreeves mansion. (The fact that your stipend’s now enough to fully cover it this year is even better.)

Arms crossed tightly over your chest, you press the crosswalk button with your elbow. Cars screech to a stop and honk at you to hurry up as the traffic lights turn red. You scurry across, legs stiff.

(Halfway there.)

But just because you feel safe walking alone doesn’t mean you like it. Being alone means that you have to deal with your thoughts without being able to share them, and it stinks. You prefer the nights when you sneak out with Klaus, buying a tub of ice cream from the drugstore and eating it outside the 24-hour café nearby until the owners shoo you away, or going to the movie theater with everyone when Sir Hargreeves is gone on a trip. You like walking home with Five or Klaus after your Mom started getting too tired to pick you up for the weekends.

Somberly, you step out into the street towards your apartment complex.

You like being part of the Umbrella Academy when you don’t have to think about being a hero …

BEEEEEEEEEEEP

As if in a dream, you turn your head toward the sound. Your bag falls gently to the ground.

It’s a car horn. Loud, deafening. Distorting, blurring. A car.

It’s not slowing down.

You should move.

You raise your hands instead.

The force hits you like a giant fist. Your blood burns hot as you push, and push, and push, jaw clenched so tight you think your teeth might shatter. The air is getting squeezed out of your lungs. The tires screech. The horn screams. They’re all you can hear.

Push! PUSH!

The pressure rises and rises –

And then it’s too much.

The fist shoves you back. Your back hits the ground.

You don’t even have time for last thoughts. But before you can catch one last glimpse of the tires that would dash your brains across the road, something grabs you, and the next thing you know, you’re somewhere else.

The engine roars, and the car speeds away. What’s left of your lunch promptly ends up on the ground next to you, and that’s when you start crying, nauseous and cold.

“Am I dead,” you choke out, eyes screwed shut. Whatever had grabbed you is still there; you can feel their weight on your shoulders. Your mouth tastes awful and sour and bloody. “Am I …”

“You’re not dead.” A breathless voice pierces through the fog in your head. It’s familiar, and close, and you pry your eyelids open to see –

You see Five.

His face is stiff and pale, his voice even, but as you blink away your tears, you see unbridled panic just beneath the surface.

“Shit. Shit,” he hisses as you close your eyes again, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Why is Five here? How did he – “[Y/n], don’t close your – don’t go to sleep, for fuck’s sake …”

You do your best to listen as he shakes you a bit. Don’t cry. You’re okay, you’re fine … your … “My pills,” you slur out, hand feeling around for his arm so you can sit up. Looking at the road, you see the limp plastic bag, ghostly white against the dark asphalt. Your stomach roils again. “Ugh, I feel so sick …”

“I wonder why.” Five looks at you, mouth pressed into a thin, grave line, before blinking to the middle of the road to grab your things. He blinks back immediately. “Can you stand?” he asks tightly.

You swallow, wincing, and nod gingerly. You’re fine. “Yeah.”

The snow is falling harder now. Five helps you stand, and after a few minutes of regaining your bearings, the two of you slowly make your way up to your apartment. When you fumble with your key, Five takes it and unlocks the door himself.

“Couch or bed.”

“Bed,” you mumble as you scrape off your shoes. Thankfully, Mom isn’t home. You’d hate to have to explain all of this – she’s been so stressed lately …

The nausea is pretty much gone now, but the prickling fuzziness in your every limb remains. A little steadier on your feet, all you have to do is hold onto Five’s arm as you shuffle towards your bedroom.

“Get changed and wait here.” He fixes you with a steely gaze before disappearing. A few moments later, you hear the sink run, followed by the sound of the microwave opening and closing.

Is he mad at you? Biting the inside of your cheek, you take off your wet hoodie, putting it in your laundry hamper. Then you peel off your socks, and after closing the door, everything else that the snow had soaked through.

A few minutes after you change into your pajamas and settle onto your bed, Five knocks on the door, and you tell him to come in.

He hands you one of two mugs, this one filled with water. You take it. The other, filled with hot chocolate, is set on your nightstand.

“Are you mad?” Your voice is small.

Scoffing, Five glances away from you, a bitter smile on his lips. “I’m wondering what the fuck you were thinking,” he mutters.

“I almost did it,” you say. “That was the most I’ve ever done.”

“And you almost died.”

You look down into your mug. “It’s not that much different from a mission.”

“Actually, it is,” Five replies, his smile spreading – it doesn’t take a genius to know that he’s beyond ticked off – “because there are people looking after you during a mission. Who would’ve saved your ass if I hadn’t happened to be there? Nobody.”

“Maybe that’s what I needed,” you mumble, taking a sip of water.

Five narrows his eyes at you.

“What?”

You speak louder, a little indignant. “Maybe I needed to know that nobody could bail me out so I’d actually try.”

“You’re always trying!” he snaps. “Wanting to improve your ability doesn’t warrant a goddamn near-death experience, because as I’ve said before, you almost died!”

His chest is heaving when he finishes, and as you gape at him, startled by his loss of composure, you realize.

“I scared you,” you say, voice soft and wondering. “Didn’t I?”

Five just stares back at you. That is answer enough, but you set your water down anyway, stand up, and take his hand.

“Five?”

“I almost didn’t make it.” All the anger from before trickles out of his tone, and all that’s left is something quiet and uncharacteristically desperate. He clutches your hand until it’s almost painful. “That split second before I blinked, I thought …”

You step closer. “I’m okay now.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Okay.”

“Please,” he says.

“Okay,” you murmur, a lump in your throat. “I won’t.”

Five looks at you, searching. Then he closes his eyes and sighs a very old-sounding sigh, and as he does so, you lift your free hand to brush his cheek.

“Sorry,” he eventually murmurs, and you can tell, by the way he looks down and says it quietly, that he’s not quite used to using the word, “for shouting.”

You smile. “I forgive you. Sorry for scaring you.”

“You should be.”

“Aw. Hey.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Five.” Feeling very warm, you take his other hand, chuckling at the awkward look on his face. (Honestly, the two of you are a mess, aren’t you?) “I love you a lot. You know that, right?”

At your words, his eyes soften. You wonder if he knows.

“I know.”

“Okay. Good.”

[lyssismagical]

72 w Parkner pls 🥺

just some bb fluff between the Keener-Parker-Stark family uwu

*

“I'll see you in a few hours, babe,” Morgan says, leaning up to kiss her partner. “I love you.”

Saylor smiles and gently pushes a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. “I love you too. Have fun. Tell them I said hi.”

Morgan and Saylor have been together for three years now, having met in Morgan’s third year of college, studying to become a teacher. Saylor’s in med school.

They live together in New York, only a few hours’ drive away from Stark Towers where Harley and Peter live.

She hasn’t had a day off between school and her job as a teaching assistant, not to mention having just gotten a puppy with Saylor who needs constant attention and care.

The drive to Stark Industries is a little boring, traffic a little heavier than usual on a Saturday morning. She feels a little bad about not spending the weekend with her partner who’s also rarely free, but she also hasn’t made the trip to see her family in quite a while.

Harley and Peter are sitting at the breakfast bar, knees touching and Harley’s laughing bright and loud at something Peter must’ve said. They both look tired, despite the weekend beginning, but she knows the business has been under some heat lately.

Peter’s up, out of his seat as soon as he sees her, pulling her into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you, bug. How are you? How’s Saylor? How’s school?”

“Let her breathe, darling,” Harley says, leaning over his husband to ruffle Morgan’s hair. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes, please, traffic was awful.”

Harley smiles and heads off towards the kitchen, leaving Peter to fuss over Morgan.

“You look tired, have you been sleeping alright?”

“Peter, I’m fine, I promise. I’m twenty-four, you don’t need to worry about me like I’m still fourteen.”

He sighs wearily, it’s obvious it hasn’t exactly been an easy week for him. “I know. But you’ll always be my little bug.”

“I’m good, really, Peter. I’m happy.”

Harley returns, pressing an old Iron Man mug into her hands. “How’s Saylor? I miss that kid.”

“They’re good… Busy, that’s for sure. Med school, the internship at the hospital, taking care of Nova. We’ve both been busy, but they’re happy. They’ve got the weekend off to just play with Nova and rest.”

Peter goes to respond, but his phone ringing cuts him off. “Sorry, I should probably… Hello?”

Harley sighs, leading Morgan to the living room. “It’s been complicated lately.”

“I heard, is everything okay?”

“One of our rival companies, they’re fighting dirty and it’s putting a lot of pressure on us. We’ve already lost a few employees, as well as some investors because of them. But we’re making progress and it’ll all blow over soon enough.”

Morgan nods, pulling her knees up to her chest on the couch, tucking herself into the warmth. It’s the same old couch that Tony bought decades ago, there’s a few photographs of her here when she must’ve been two to four years old, her dad holding her in his lap. On one hand, she knows why they haven’t bothered to replace it, every memory of Tony is important to all three of them and seems almost wrong to get rid of anything that belonged to him. But on the other hand, it really is just a couch. An old, worn-leather couch, with rips in the seams and stains along the back.

“Peter looks exhausted,” she says, watching carefully as Harley’s face shifts into worried sadness.

“He is. You know how he gets when it comes to anything surrounding your dad.”

Peter slips into the room, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry to cut this short, but PR needs one of us downstairs.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offers, already bringing himself to his feet.

“No, it’s okay. You took the last one. I’ll go, sort this out, I’ll hopefully be back within an hour or two. I’ll bring takeout for lunch, sound good?”

Harley sighs and Morgan knows she makes the exact same expression as he does whenever Saylor picks up extra hours at the hospital or stays up all night to study.

She’s never really known the two of them apart, she was too young to remember them before they got together, way back when they were eighteen and nineteen. They’ve been together ever since, bar the one time in college where they split up for nearly four months, long-distance having become too much for them.

She’s never known Harley without the permanent wrinkle between his brows from the constant worry of dating a selfless superhero. She’s never known Peter without the messy curls, having given up gel and product when Harley convinced him he looked better without it.

When she was young, she always worried that she’d never find love the way her parents did, the way she saw Harley and Peter, so unconditional, so pure, so endless. She worried she wouldn’t find the person who was clearly meant to be her other half like Peter is for Harley and Harley is for Peter.

But then she met Saylor.

“Bye, bug, I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She hugs Peter goodbye, settling back into the cushions beside Harley.

“How did you know you were going to be with Peter forever?” Morgan asks. She adores the way Harley’s expression goes gentle and nostalgic and loving.

“Peter likes to say that he knew when we met, that very first time, at the cabin. But I don’t think it was ever quite that simple, you know? I knew I loved him when we were in college and he was in Massachusetts while I was in California, and I woke up one day, and found Peter in my dorm room. He’d flown all the way out, on his long weekend, just to spend time with me. He was sitting next to me, reading the book I had to write an essay on so he’d be able to me. It was so simple, so easy, and it was clear, in that moment, that I could do that forever. Wake up next to him, live in simple domesticity with him.”

“And you wanted to do that forever?”

She knows that moment with Saylor, too. They had come home from a long day at school and a long evening at the hospital, and they had picked up her favourite meal for dinner on the way home. They had curled up on the couch together, eaten dinner, and watched a movie, and smiled when Morgan had ranted about the antagonist of the film.

“For as long as he’d have me.”

“And you’ve never once gone back on that?”

Harley shrugs, eyes far away. “I fucked up in college, I nearly ruined the best thing I’d ever had, and that’s the biggest regret I’ll have to carry with me. That’s the only regret I’ll ever have about our relationship, is hurting him and losing four months with him.”

“I think I want to ask Saylor to marry me,” Morgan says. She’s certain about that, but god is she ever nervous. “I love them more than anything.”

“I know.” Harley nudges her with his shoulder. “Every time you talk about them, you get that same look that I see on Peter’s face constantly. And that- that’s a lot. I see it on Saylor’s face too, when they talk about you.”

“You do?”

Harley’s smile widens. “I do. It’s clear how much that kid loves you. And if you’re even a fraction as sure as I was when I proposed, then you should go for it.”

“How did you do it?”

“It’s about as dramatic as you’d expect from us. He was-” Harley stops, swallows visibly. “He was dying. He’d been hurt while on a mission and I was there, I was holding him and he was- he was dying. Bucky had to physically restrain me while Sam got him to help… It was the most scared I’d ever been.”

“He was okay, though.”

“Yeah, somehow he always is. He was in that goddamn hospital bed and he was so high on pain killers and I just, I asked him to marry me.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Morgan laughs a little. “And he said yes?”

“He did. He said yes. And when he was released from the hospital, he laughed so hard he cried because he couldn’t believe that’s how I asked him.”

And god does Morgan ever want that with Saylor. She loves her partner like crazy, loves them to the moon and back, she never wants to go another day without them, she doesn’t want to spend another second without being able to call her partner, her fiancé.

“I want to marry Saylor,” she says again.

Harley grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“For being in love?”

“For being unapologetically you and going after what you want.”

Morgan leans into Harley, his arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders. “You think they’ll say yes?”

“No question about it, kid.”

“If they do…” She trails off nervously. “Would you and Peter walk me down the aisle?”

Harley presses a kiss to her temple. “We would love to. And I’m sure we could have Nova trained to be a ring bearer in no time.”

Morgan laughs at the thought of her clumsy, bouncy little puppy trying to do anything with finesse.

Peter returns with lunch a little while later.

As soon as he walks in, he drops the bags down on the table and says, “I want a baby.”

“What?” Harley lets out a little surprised laugh and Morgan bursts into giggles at the absurdity.

“Quinn brought her baby in for the meeting because she couldn’t get a babysitter in time,” Peter explains, pouting childishly. “And I want one.”

Harley shakes his head, more dumbfounded than disagreeing. “You want a baby.”

“I want a baby,” he repeats. “I want a little tiny thing with ten fingers and ten toes and a beating heart.”

Morgan laughs again, walking up to hug Peter. “God, I missed how absolutely crazy you are.”

“Okay, darling, how about you eat some food and we’ll talk some more later?”

It’s not a no and Peter grins triumphantly.

“When did you know that you wanted to be with Harley forever?” Morgan asks before she can stop herself.

Peter’s smile widens and he looks to Harley with the softest, most lovestruck eyes she’s ever seen. “I was fifteen.”

“Fifteen? You were seventeen when we met.”

Peter slides a hand over Harley’s shoulder, tucking himself into his husband’s side. “I was fifteen and I was here with Tony. Right here, actually. We were having a lab night and he mentioned something about a potato gun kid. And I asked him to tell me about you. About dumbass Harley Keener who didn’t know when to stop, who was talkative and loud and sarcastic and annoying. Harley who helped save Tony’s life. And I thought, wow, if anybody would know what it feels like to be me, it’d be Harley.”

“Really?”

“I googled you later that day and I scrolled through your mom’s entire facebook, wondering just who was special enough to stay in Tony’s head for so long, so fresh. I told Ned, I said to him, I’m gonna meet this kid and I’m going to marry him one day because who else is worthy of my love than somebody who could save Tony Stark’s life.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! It’s all true. Ask Ned, he’ll tell you.”

Harley rolls his eyes in pure adoration. “You never told me that.”

“I was embarrassed and then it didn’t seem relevant anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to learning things about you, Parker.”

Peter grins up at him. “Like how I want to have a baby?”

“You two would be amazing dads,” Morgan says, almost shyly. That part of their relationship isn’t talked about very much, how they might as well have raised Morgan, filled in the spot that her dad left when she was so young. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, bug,” Peter murmurs.

“If you take tomorrow off, we’ll start researching, alright?” Harley bargains. A day off is hard to come by with Peter, but with an ultimatum like that, Peter can’t possibly say no.

Peter kisses him in response.

April Parker is the flower girl at Saylor and Morgan’s wedding that fall.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir @not-today-thx @fandomstuffff

{Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[frostedfaves]

Haunt (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: civilian!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Impeccable timing brings you and Wanda together.

Warnings: ghosts/demons, haunting, Ultron who?

A/N: as we get later into the series, the level of exposed I feel is only going to increase. I may or may not have put some of my own feelings into this one, which I usually do anyway, but this is a super personal thing that it took me a while to even tell my closest friend so...be gentle with me. and leave feedback!

**click here to be added to the taglist!!**

-

The rhythmic chopping of the knife through vegetables on the cutting board echoed through the sunlit kitchen, which was silent aside from the soft music playing through the bluetooth speaker. A grin appeared on Wanda’s lips as she realized she’d begun to mimic the beat of the current song, and if Pietro was here, he’d make his usual joke about her bringing work home. Luckily he wouldn’t be arriving for dinner for another two hours.

“Alexei, hi!” she greeted the tan corgi cheerfully as he padded into the room. “I’m sorry, but I can’t share any of this with you. The vet said you’re allergic to paprika, remember?”

An adoring smile was thrown Alexei’s way as he settled into one of his many beds to watch her cook. The vegetables were placed in a container near the stovetop as she headed to grab the aforementioned spice, sighing when she opened the cabinet and spotted the nearly empty jar.

“Can I trust you not to make a mess while I’m gone?” she asked Alexei as she faced him, chuckling when he raised his head from his paws with a curious tilt. “That’s what I thought.”

She quickly covered the food that was already prepped for the nonstick skillet resting on the stovetop and blew a kiss to her pup on the way out of the kitchen. Her phone and wallet were placed in the pockets of her jeans before she slipped on a hoodie, zipping it with one hand as she grabbed her keys with the other.

Traffic seemed lighter than usual as she made her way toward the main street, and she couldn’t fight the smile that appeared as she passed the many yards of children playing in front lawns. It was the last Saturday before the school year started, and they were determined to get as much time in the sun as they could before being stuck inside for five days a week. Wanda turned left at the end of the block and was just about to pass an alley when someone bumped into her.

-

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

The whispered words seem to echo through the silent apartment at a deafening volume, each one timed perfectly along with every tap of your foot on the floor beside your bed. It was a taunting way of indirectly forcing you to count out the phrase that seemed to inevitably break you.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Please, can I just have one fucking day?” you pleaded as you lifted your head, keeping your gaze away from the corner of the room where the voice was coming from.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

A few more minutes passed before you grew tired of feeling suffocated, and you jumped off the bed to grab your phone and wallet, sliding them into your pockets before putting on a light hoodie that you zipped up as you walked. You snatched your keys from the hook beside the door before hurrying out of the apartment, locking the door and rushing down the hall and out to the street. Feeling the warm breeze and the sun on your cheeks was a welcoming contrast to the chill of your dark bedroom.

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

You jumped in response to the rushed whisper in your ear, letting out a groan as the words continued to repeat while you took a shortcut through the alleys. Flashes of arms circling your waist and lips melting against yours poured into your mind and you stopped in the middle of the next alley to close your eyes and focus on breathing. The whispers quieted, and you were almost certain you were going to catch a break for once when a car horn went off. Your loud scream was masked by those of the children on the other side of the block as your eyes flew open and you started running, your journey to the sidewalk being cut short by another woman.

“Sorry!” you called out breathlessly as she stumbled back while trying to catch you, and you carefully pulled away with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

“No no, I’m fine,” she laughed nervously as she fixed her jacket sleeves, her bright smile falling a bit as she met your eyes again. “Are you okay?”

“Also fine.” You averted your gaze with a harsh swallow, suddenly aware of how tired you must look. “Hey, I was headed to the grocery store...Am I going the right way?”

“Yeah!” Her eyes widened and her welcoming grin was restored. “I was actually going there myself if you’d like to walk with me.”

“Sure.”

The two of you turned and began walking side by side toward the busy intersection in silence, your steps seeming to line up perfectly, and you shook your head to clear the memory of those cursed words lining up with the tapping of your foot.

“So I’m not sure if this is too invasive of a stranger to ask but…” You faced the dark-haired woman and she did the same as you began crossing the parking lot. “I noticed you have a bit of an accent. Does that come from somewhere else?”

“Yes,” she answered with a bit of a chuckle. “My parents brought my twin brother and I here from Sokovia when we were 10, just before a bombing destroyed the building we used to live in.”

“Wow, your parents have impeccable timing. But that’s so cool that you have a twin. What’s his name? Well, I’d like to know your name first.”

“I’m Wanda,” she introduced herself with a smile that widened even more when you told her your name while shaking her hand. “And my brother’s name is Pietro.”

“Wait, is your brother Pietro Maximoff, the soccer player?” Your eyebrows raised instantly as she nodded. “My roommate loves soccer and she is obsessed with him. She has a huge Quicksilver poster on the wall above her bed.”

“They call him that because he runs so fast that the players from the opposing team always struggle to keep up.” Her laugh is muffled by the air conditioning as you walk through the automatic doors. “Do you need a cart? I really just came for one thing and maybe a bakery item or something.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just grabbing a few snacks.” 

You take longer than necessary to make your way to the spices, snack aisles and bakery, which gives you a chance to learn about this bright-eyed, kindhearted woman with an accent that made your mind go a bit fuzzy. You found out that she was a music teacher at an elementary school, which sounded a lot more interesting than the job you’d chosen to stick with simply because you needed to pay bills. She was determined to convince you otherwise.

“Wanda, it’s fine!” you insisted as the two of you left the check out line and made your way toward the exit. “I actually prefer boring and normal right now anyway. I haven’t really ever been able to use those words when describing my life before, so this is great.”

You could feel her eyes locked on you as she followed you to the main street, and you waited for her at the corner to cross together, offering her a reassuring smile as the light changed. The two of you were standing in front of her one-story home within a few blocks, and as you took a look at the potted plants on either side of the welcome mat and lantern hung by the door, you couldn’t help but think that you’d be able to figure out this place was hers even if she hadn’t pointed it out.

“Pietro’s coming for dinner tonight if you and your roommate would like to join us,” she told you in a seemingly hopeful tone as she faced you from the steps leading to the porch. “I always make way too much food anyway.”

Stuck. Dead. High. Speak.

“Um...” You paused to clear your throat. “I actually have plans tonight but maybe I can come back tomorrow afternoon for a movie or something, if you’re not busy. I had fun with you.”

“Yeah, that’ll be great! I wake up pretty early so you can come over whenever.” 

“Okay, cool. Cute dog, by the way.”

You nodded over at the corgi watching you from the window, grinning when Wanda followed your gaze and laughed, and you bid farewell with a simple wave before walking away to finish the trip back to your building. Your smile fell as the whispers began filling your ears again before you even reached the corner of the block, and you wondered how long this situation with Wanda would last before you scared her away.

-

Tags: @imnotasuperhero @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @slut-for-nat @honeyvenable @creepingwolfberry @stickystudentlightmug @choni-trimberly

[peach-pops]

May i request a hc where the reader is a delinquent third year at Nekoma and Kuroo catches a glimpse of her panties as she climbs down the ladder to the roof 🥺👉👈

Thank you for the request! I made the reader a sexual delinquent so there are suggestive themes but this is still SFW! I added a bit extra cause I didn’t want Kuroo just to stare at her ass lmao.

Nekoma’s Delinquent HC

Kuroo may seem like the total bad boy type at first glance, but he really is such a goody two shoes

Just because he’s the attractive captain of a well-rounded volleyball team should not dismiss the fact that he is the top of his class and a full-on STEM nerd 

He has a pretty good reputation around Nekoma and he wants to keep it that way. 

UNTILLLLL you came around 

he was minding his own business after practice until he saw you sneaking into the equipment room in the gym 

Of course, Curious Kuroo follows you and peaks inside because who the hell is trying to sneak into the equipment room- fuck it’s you

Everyone at Nekoma knew you as the delinquent third year who was known to have a pretty bad reputation 

*Cue that Regina George scene from Mean Girls*

“ I heard when Y/N L/N was a first-year, she slept with any third year who would give her a pack of cigarettes!”  

“ Y/N gave ‘roadside assistance ;)’ to Kobayashi- Sensei and that’s why her grade in his class is so high!”

“ Her idea of tutoring guys is taking them up to the roof of the school to give them half-decent handjobs.” 

Kuroo was pretty sure that most of the rumors about you weren’t true and even if they were, your sex life was none of anyone’s business

Except for the rumor about you sleeping with a teacher because um hell red flags lock that teacher up!!! 

“ Can I help you?” Kuroo asked suddenly as you turned around to face him

Your skirt was purposely rolled up even higher to show off your bare legs and your white button-up that was rolled up to your elbows lazily had a few missing buttons at the top, revealing a bit of your chest

Kuroo concentrated on keeping his eyes above your waist but he couldn’t look you straight in the face without getting red so he focused attention towards the wall closest to you

“ I’m good, thank you though,” you said casually as you turned back around and looked through the equipment room as if you were looking for something important 

If you ever needed to study or have a smoke, you found yourself using the gym’s equipment room because it was usually fairly private and there was a window so you wouldn’t suffocate in your own smoke

Hardly anyone intimidated Kuroo. He’s a pretty big dude and people would be dumb to try and start shit with him but for some reason, he was so intimidated by you 

You were so fascinating to him, all these rumors and yet, you always managed to get right back up and keep doing you. You were also insanely attractive but Kuroo would never admit it out loud because he didn’t want to sound like a tool 

No matter how intimidated he was by you, he still needed to keep people out of the equipment room who weren’t allowed in there

“ I wasn’t really asking,” Kuroo said as he walked into the equipment room with his hands in his pockets,” what are you doing in here L/N-chan?”

He wasn’t sure what you were looking for, maybe something to steal and sell? Maybe you had hidden drugs in the equipment room and it was like your secret stash 

“ That sounded like a question to me,” You answered back as you bent down to look between a stack of boxes,” don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time Kuroo-san.” 

His breath hitched for a moment because he was so sure you didn’t even know who he was and from the silence that followed after, you were quick to notice his expression as you bent down to pick up the textbook you were searching for

“ Second year, Nakumura-Sensei’s physics class,” You reminded him as you swept some dust off the surface of your math textbook,” you sat a few seats ahead of me and you always blocked the chalkboard with that crazy hair of yours.” 

Kuroo didn’t need to be reminded, he remembered how you would usually stroll into class late and how during most of the period would consist of you either sleeping or on your phone

No matter how late you arrived, you always managed to smile towards Kuroo because you always noticed how he would stop listening to the teacher when you walked in 

“ I’m surprised you remember that, you were hardly ever conscious in class,” Kuroo laughed cautiously as you shrugged and walked over towards him

You stood next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, making his body tense,“ Oh trust me, it’s hard to remember a face like yours.”

Kuroo only gulped as you squeezed his shoulder and walked out of the equipment room, leaving him completely stunned

His mind was all over the place because were you flirting with him? Do you just do that with everyone? Why was he getting worked up over a shoulder touch?!?!

More importantly, all he was thinking was how he wanted to see you again, even if it meant that he would be putting his reputation on the line

The next couple of weeks consisted of Kuroo keeping an eye out for you in the hallway and every time you two did happen to meet, you always smiled back at him and it always boosted his mood

He looked forward to seeing you in the halls, even if it was just for a few seconds because it meant that he was slowly making an impression on you 

all Kuroo wanted to do was have the chance to talk to you for a bit and get to know because damn, he was really falling for you just by seeing you in the halls

He talked about you so much to the point where Kenma had to invest in a good pair of headphones so he could tune him out

Kuroo usually minded his business when it came to drama but now, he was quick to call out shitty behavior whenever he heard people talk badly about you in class 

“ Did you see what Y/N was wearing today? I swear she’s asking for it-”

“ If you want to keep all of your teeth intact, I suggest you both keep her name out of your mouth.” 

That shut people up REAL QUICK 

Scary Kuroo is hot anyway 

Kuroo always felt protective towards any girl; he didn’t have any sisters but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stand up for girls when it came down to it. 

He was sure you two would never really become friends since your interaction consisted of acknowledging each other in the hallway until he spotted you outside the gym after practice with a smile on your face

“ Finally, took you long enough to finish. Come on, I wanna show you something,” You said as you grabbed his hand and led him towards the back of the school

His brain was like holding hands??? With A Female??? That’s a first

In the back of Kuroo’s mind, all he could think about were the rumors. Was something going to happen between the two of you? He wouldn’t mind but he wasn’t exactly sure what you were proposing and if he was mentally prepared for it

He’s a virgin yall come on he’s a whole dork remember? 

He didn’t really start to freak out until you led him to the ladder that led to the roof because oh shit, all he could think about was the ‘half-decent handjob’ rumors

Kuroo was pretty freaked out to climb up on the roof-it wasn’t that he was scared of heights but what if they got in trouble??? 

Kuroo had two options; A) He could say no and just go home because he knew mentally and physically, he wasn’t ready for certain things to happen with the two of you if it got hot and heavy B) He could suck it up and climb the damn ladder because he’s been wanting an excuse to talk to you for weeks and now he finally has the chance

“ Ladies first,” Kuroo said as you gladly went ahead of him 

“ Okay scaredy-cat”

He started to climb up behind you but when he looked up to see how much farther he had left, he realized he could see up your skirt and his eyes were glued on your red lace panties  

Kuroo pulled his eyes away from you and wanted to bang his head against the metal ladder. Was this all part of your masterplan??? To seduce him??? Because oh shit it might be working

“ If you don’t mind, I can feel your eyes burning into my ass,” You said from above him as Kuroo stammered out an apology 

You smiled to yourself as you stepped up on the last railing and threw your legs over onto the roof 

Kuroo lifted himself up and peeked his head over the ladder. You tried to help him up but he shook you off and insisted he was fine

From his three years at being at Nekoma, he didn’t even know there was a greenhouse on top of the school ( high school musical 3 vibes) 

You walked past Kuroo and when he saw you sit next to the edge of the roof, he felt a bit more comfortable since who would give a handjob while sitting on the edge of a roof? 

He sat down beside you as you pulled out a cigarette and lit it with your lighter. You offered him a pack but Kuroo shook his head and watched you instead

“ L/N-chan, why’d you bring me up here?” Kuroo asked as you exhaled smoke

“ For the view, duh,” You said as you nodded your head off towards the horizon

Kuroo turned his attention to the skyline and you were right. The sunset was never something Kuroo particularly paid attention to since he usually distracted himself when walking home but with the cityscape off in the distance and the soft sounds of traffic, he could feel himself softening and relaxing more than before

“ You know you’re the only one who bothers to calls me L/N-chan,” You said after a moment as Kuroo turned his attention back to you,” why do you do that?” 

“ What else would I call you?” Kuroo asked as if there was any other option 

“ ‘Nekoma’s Delinquent’, ‘ Trashy Alleycat’, ‘ Whore-chan’, or the classic old ‘slut’,” You answered simply as Kuroo felt his chest tighten up,” those seem to be pretty popular nicknames for me.” 

He wasn’t even sure what to say and he felt guilty because of it. He had never heard people call you that ( he knew he would knock out any guy who talked badly about you)  but it wasn’t like he ever stood up for you for the rumors before

“ I would never call you that, those names are disgusting.”

“ Can you blame them? I’m sure you’ve heard rumors about my sexual escapades by now, I could tell from how nervous you were once you saw the ladder going up to the roof . And for the record, I didn’t bring you up here to give you a ‘half decent handjob’... Even if I did, I don’t think I would be that bad,” You said with a convincing smirk but Kuroo could knew you were hurt by the comments

“ Why did you bring me up here then? Don’t get me wrong, the view is great and all but even then, why me?” Kuroo asked as you put out your cigarette beside you

You weren’t sure why and that was the honest answer. Even though the two of you hardly ever interacted, you felt like an actual human being around him instead of a piece of meat. 

“ Well why did you agree?” You changed the subject as Kuroo found himself thinking of how much he wanted to reveal 

“ I think you’re misunderstood and I want to get to know you.”

“ Oh please, you just want something from me like the other guys.”

“ No- kinda- but not what you think. I mean, I want to hang out with you sure but nothing sexual. Sure, I think you’re really attractive but that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to do anything. I just want to get to know you, I swear,” Kuroo said genuinely as he saw your face soften,” your turn. Why did you bring me up here?” 

You inhaled deeply, as you played with your hands. Maybe, just maybe you had a small crush on Kuroo but of course, you would never admit it outloud

“ You’re...normal. You seem like a decent guy and honestly, nice guys are hard to come by nowadays, ” You said softly as he watched your demeanor change,” but you know if we hang out, people will say stuff.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but smile at your request. He felt like he was back in grade school when kids would just ask each other to be friends and that was that.

“ Trust me, if we’re friends, they won’t ever say shit to our face and if they do, they’ll regret it.” 

You rolled your eyes at the boys threat but inhaled deeply,” Okay, that’s good enough for me.”

Lil Bonus: One day, Kuroo went to the bathroom during class and he heard the same two guys spreading some rumors about you and he was LIVID AS HELL

Deadass this boy didn’t even wait for an explanation, he just swung his fists into their faces so hard and one guy even lost a few teeth like 0.0

“ I fucking told you I would knock your teeth in didn’t I?” 

Ya he got detention for two weeks but he had no regrets 

Angry Kuroo is so hot my LORD