#i binged go when it came out all at once

[hazel-callahan]

the definitions for the word smite are just so fitting.

[gutsby]

Halftime

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: A chance meeting a week before Thanksgiving leaves you and your dad’s best friend to handle your feelings the only way you know how: fucking on the couch when your dad falls asleep during the game.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Age gap. Soft dom!Joel. Daddy kink. Praise kink (!) Makeup sex. Pussy pronouns.

Note: ‘Or maybe on a fifty yard line watchin’ Bama beat the hell out of Tennessee’ is a line from Riley Green’s ‘Hell of a Way to Go.’ I was in Knoxville when we played this year, but in my fic, Alabama wins. If you’re a Vols fan, I’m sorry. And RMFT.

Word count: 10.5k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Guilt brought you home, and liquor helped you stay.

These were two of the shittiest things a daughter could admit, but the fact was that you simply wouldn’t be here if your dad hadn’t broken his leg at work last week. That you wanted to help, but your patience was thin, and the only way you knew how to reconcile the two was to drink. A lot. Friday you came home, and by midday Saturday, sometime around eleven or twelve, you were plastered.

Staggering up the front steps of your childhood home with Theresa Servopoulos—newfound friend from camp and the heaviest drinker you’d met in a long, long time—hot on your heels. You’d just had brunch, and the meal was mostly liquid. Bottomless mimosas had been Frank’s idea, and when his husband Bill had offered to be the DD after the fact, you’d had no choice but to accept, really. You drank your weight in citrus and champagne and spent the whole morning getting to know Tess’s friends. As your state of intoxication progressed, you’d told them your troubles and all that had been plaguing you lately.

Now, hours later, you didn’t want to think at all.

You wanted to sit your ass down on the couch, turn the TV on to Disney+, and spend the next three to thirteen more binging Star Wars spin-offs and discussing with Tess at length whether Katee Sackhoff or Timothy Olyphant was the more fuckable supporting actor.

“Honestly…I’d let Jabba the Hutt hit,” you confessed, slurring your words a little as you fumbled for your key.

“You’re fucking lying,” Tess half-groaned, half-laughed.

She watched you try and jam metal into metal and fail twice before steeling herself against a rocking chair and reaching out her hand. You waved it away. At a distance, you heard the hum of an engine and another voice, loud:

“You ladies need a little help over there or wha-at?”

That was Frank. He was arguably the most drunk out of the three of you and hanging his handsome, greying head out of the passenger side of Bill’s Chevy S-10. He’d seen you try and fail with the key, too, and seemed more eager than ever to lend a hand, while his husband was likely kicking himself for ever offering to drive you back.

Tess gripped the porch chair harder and gestured, dazed.

“Give her a minute, she’s—” She hiccuped once. “—intelligent and entirely capable. She’s got this, OK?”

You didn’t. You really didn’t. And by the way you were finessing this key you didn’t feel too fucking smart either. You crammed your key against the tight, rigid slot in the front door of your home, missed it completely, and then wondered, dimly, how men were able to aim their dicks.

How Joel ever managed to fit that massive, throbbing—

“Fuck!” you cursed, kicking the doorframe with a huff.

The periphery of your vision was spinning and swimming a little now, and before you knew it, Tess had snatched your keychain from out of your hand. She got to work.

And while she did, you turned back to Bill and Frank, whose truck was still idling quietly in your driveway.

Frank had an eyebrow raised. His chin was in his palm, and his elbow was planted in the car’s open window. With that look alone, you knew what he wanted to say.

“Fine…fine,” you capitulated in a loud, droning shout. Head spinning, “You can give him my fucking number.”

Frank grinned at that.

“No shit?” he yelled back.

“Yeah. I really am that horny.”

From somewhere in the car, Bill groaned his disapproval. Frank’s smile only widened. It’d been his idea to set you up with one of their neighbors after you’d divulged all of your dating life turmoils over eggs benedict and grits that morning—how fucking your dad’s best friend had, in fact, not been the wisest decision and you needed something new to get your mind off the man for a little while. Frank had been all too happy to offer supplying your number to the so-called ‘dreamboat’ next door to them. Initially, you’d brushed it off, but the longer you stood on this porch contemplating the hellish few days you’d be spending at home for Thanksgiving, the more you drunkenly reasoned a dick might do you some good.

And if it wasn’t from Joel Miller, even better. You leaned against the nearest porch column and pointed at Frank.

Then at Bill, squinting dumbly and faux-accusingly.

“I’m desperate, but I’m trusting y’all, too, alright?”

You wanted to get fucked, not fucked over, again. Frank seemed to understand right away and nodded his head.

“I’ll give him your number, tell him you’re hot—which you are—and you two can work something out. It’ll be fine.”

He pointed back at you, still smiling, and you hoped it would be. Behind you, Tess had solved the puzzle of the chrome-plated house key, and had thrust the door open. She stumbled inside, and your feet started to follow hers.

“Tell Tess to text us your number!” Frank had to cup his hands saying it, as Bill was already starting to pull away.

You nodded and waved. Watched the world veer sideways and your kind, considerate, hammered new friend-of-a-friend repeat how great this was going to be—this guy’ll do you so good you’ll forget Joel exists—while you backed into the house. A gust of warm air from inside pricked at your skin, and along with that touch came the tiniest trace of hope. A sanguine sort of warmth that twisted low in your gut and made you smile.

And cup your hands, as Frank had, while calling to him:

“How old is Mr. Dreamboat, anyway?!”

The truck was crunching its ways down the gravel drive. Its path was slow, though, and Frank’s voice was clear.

“FORTY-ONE!”

It was as though you were hearing those words in a dream. You almost couldn’t help what you said next.

Fanning yourself, you yelled back, “I lo-o-o-ve that!”

“What?!”

Frank hadn’t heard you. They were farther away now.

You had to practically scream it now, but you were drunk enough that you didn’t really care. Tess was entertained, half-hunched on the floor and trying to work off her shoes while she laughed at this stupid exchange.

In truth, it didn’t matter how loud you yelled, because you lived on several dozen acres of land, and your dad wasn’t home. He’d told you that he was hitching a ride with Tommy to their usual weekend haunt to watch the Alabama-Tennessee game, and it started an hour ago. The house was empty, and you were free to screech.

“I said, ‘I love that’!”

“Yeah? Love what?!”

Frank was hanging halfway out of the passenger window by now, and his face was flushed with moronic humor.

Bill was probably grinding his teeth together as he drove.

“O-O-O-OLD MEN!” you shrilled, as loud as you could.

Next thing you knew, Tess was on the floor. Wheezing.

It didn’t matter whether Frank could hear you now; evidently, he’d gotten the message. Their truck was crawling down your drive with a low, rumbling crackle, and the eyes that were still glued to yours were shining.

Before they turned out of sight, Frank waved again and blew you a kiss, as you and Tess had done to him at some point earlier that day. He slipped back into the car, and your sides were nearly aching from how hard you were giggling—nothing was even that particularly funny, but with a nice noontime buzz and Tess’s relentless cackling from across the foyer, you couldn’t help it. You shut the door, staggered over, and were about to drop.

Right when you were about to collapse, though, Tess wobbled up. You saw her raise two hands in front of her.

“I’m— I’m gonna pee…or puke…possibly,” she warned.

That wasn’t good.

You pointed up.

“First door on your left. Do you need any—”

But Tess was already staggering off. You might’ve laughed again, and trailed after her with a plea to try not to projectile vomit all over those nice festive towels your dad had bought, but the moment came and went quick. In fact, it wasn’t even brought to an end by your friend’s departure but rather the screech of her feet on the floor.

Nearly tripping over herself to leave, then crashing into something else before she could. You heard a thwack.

Then her huff, ‘Fuck. Sorry!’ And you turned.

You looked up and cursed.

Again, you felt like you might be in a dream. Only this time, the sight had more of a nightmarish hue, and you had only to grip the edge of a chair—no, a table, a side table—beside you in the hall to keep yourself upright.

Your sweet, sloppy-drunk friend had run straight into Joel. She was raising her hands again and saying sorry.

You could tell she meant it, too. She was just shaking her head, appearing to try and rid herself of the stunned, dumbfounded feelings, when she tilted her chin up.

Then, somehow even brighter, she smiled in recognition.

“Lucien Flores!”

Not missing a beat, like you knew she wouldn’t:

“You fucking prick.”

Of course she was sober enough to remember his face. The time she’d mistaken him for an uptight FEDRA counselor back at camp. How you’d fucked him on her bunk. All the shit-talking you’d been doing about him since, too. You knew she wasn’t a woman to mince words, so it didn’t surprise you in the slightest when next she placed a hand on his pec, patted it lightly and added:

“You’re an asshole. A spineless, slimy, sad sack of shit.”

Joel blinked as she walked past him, toward the stairs.

“Good to see you, too, Tess.”

“Eat shit and die.”

“Theresa.”

You hadn’t even meant to say the last aloud; it just came out. Tess was holding the rail, going slow but determined to get upstairs without losing her food all over the floor.

The next thing you heard was the slam of the bathroom door. You winced and thought of your dad’s decorative towels a moment. That thought was then supplanted by another, though you pretended not to feel it, at least outwardly. You brushed past Joel to go to the kitchen.

Why was he here? He surely wouldn’t have come unless your father was there, and your dad was supposed to be watching the Vols take the ass-beating of a lifetime from the Tide. Or maybe vice-versa. You weren’t sure how the latter was doing since Saban retired. You rubbed one temple as you opened a cabinet and looked for a glass.

Reconsidering, you opted for a plastic cup instead.

Your head was throbbing as you walked to the sink.

You sensed you likely weren’t of a mind to be holding anything fragile, and the second that followed only proved it. A footfall sounded by the kitchen island, and you flinched, dropping your cup like a fucking idiot.

“Where’s my dad?” you blurted out, not thinking.

You didn’t want his voice to be the first to fill the silence. You picked your cup off the floor and turned on the tap.

More silence followed. You couldn’t be sure if it was your own drunken paranoia or a genuine feeling of two eyes on your back, but your skin bristled. You were prepared to pose the question again when your answer came in the form of a new sound: not Joel’s voice, but another’s.

An announcer, apparently. You turned your head and saw ESPN on the living room TV, where the game was playing. In front of the screen, your dad was supine on his recliner. His jaw hung slack, and his eyes were shut.

So much for those morning beers with Tommy.

His leg was armored with a boot: a real, no-bullshit cast meant to protect the tibia he’d shattered, propped up in front of him while the other dangled haphazardly from the chair. You watched him, feeling an odd mix of pity, nausea, and love, and for a second, you didn’t think to move. This man was the reason you were home, after all—and why Joel was, too. You almost forgot your anger.

Your cup was full. Overflowing. You turned off the sink, then poured what excess you could as your hand shook.

You shouldn’t have been holding anything in that moment, off-kilter and unnerved as you were, but you wanted to seem occupied. You inhaled and started past Joel again, who was leaning against the counter, quiet.

He still didn’t talk, and let you stroll about half a foot in front of him before you felt the cup lift out of your hand.

“Hey—” you started.

But Joel was resuming your path before you could finish. He’d snagged the water from your grasp and made his way out of the kitchen, calmly, and you didn’t have to ask to know where he was going. You felt a pang of rekindled resentment but said nothing, knowing that was useless.

Arrogant motherfucker. Patronizing asshole. Clearly, you couldn’t be trusted to carry a cup of fucking water up the stairs in your own home, so he had had to do it for you. You went over to your father in the living room, blinking through a dozen more pissed off thoughts, when you glanced down at one of your hands again. You winced.

Stop shaking.

You needed to stay busy. Make use of those dumb, trembling hands while Joel was here and not let him see that it was all from memories of him—not the mimosas—that you couldn’t keep a steady hold to save your life.

You started to clean, mindlessly. Cleared the old coffee table of its manifold beer cans and plates of stale pizza. You walked with an unsteady gait, the room still tilting a little, but you ended up getting a decent amount cradled in your arms and into the trash or the sink shortly after.

You had just taken a bite of a slice of pepperoni and made a face when your dad shifted in his seat, letting out a grunt. Still unconscious, he rubbed at his arms. The house around him was warm, but never quite enough for a man who appeared to have been born cold-blooded. After years of this, you knew the routine; you dropped your pizza, went to the thermostat, and cranked it to 75.

Less than a minute later, it came: “Boiling us alive, huh?”

It was the first you’d heard from Joel since he spoke his curt greeting to Tess. You were over by the closet getting a blanket, and Joel was stood in the doorway, frowning.

You turned, holding up the big wool throw for him to see before you went back over to your dad in the recliner.

“He needs it,” you replied, gaze averted.

“By ‘it’ you mean his electric bill gone through the roof?”

He could be such a father sometimes. The worst kind.

“No, keeping him fucking warm, Joel.”

And the end of the last sentence you hadn’t meant to be so loud. Or mean. You didn’t really care whether it offended him, but the thought of waking your dad to hear that—being rude to your ‘Uncle Joel,’ as your dad had so innocently called the man last month—was awful. You squinted seeing him stir under the blanket, but then he turned to the side and snored even louder. You sighed.

“Doctor’s got him on some heavy painkillers. He’s been out since before the last game even ended,” Joel said.

You glanced at the TV. The game was crawling to halftime at a snail’s pace, by the looks of it. You smiled, seeing those puke-pumpkin-hued fucks getting smoked. In a second, though, the curve of your lips was fading.

“Will you stop?”

Your voice was shrill. You hurried over to Joel, who was busy dicking around with the thermostat and trying to get it down to 68 degrees—freezing, in your dad’s mind.

“It’s too hot.”

“No, it’s not.”

“You’re being—”

“This isn’t your fuckin’ house, Miller! Quit!”

“Yell a little louder, why don’t y—” Joel began to scold.

You wouldn’t let him. Of all things to get on your ass about now, volume wasn’t the hill he’d die on today. Before you even realized what you two were doing, you shoulder-checked him like you might do an annoying brother, and his arm wound swiftly around your front. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as hell made you mad to be held.

You made a jab at Joel’s ribs and ignored the grunt from him. Anger was a natural defense—your default state.

Every last semi-tranquil encounter you’d shared with someone you cared about before was always marred by rage at some point, and with Joel, it came as easy as breathing. If you weren’t tearing each other’s clothes off, you were ripping him a new one, or he was grating your nerves. You didn’t get along, and you likely never would.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t need there somewhere. You just smothered it with something hostile, constantly.

You wished it would go away. You shoved at his arm.

“You’re gonna wake him,” you hissed, strained.

“Yeah? That’s what you’re worried about?”

You wriggled against Joel’s hold and, scrunching your nose, made a pass for the dial on the wall. He caught it.

Now he was holding your hand in one of his, and your shoulder with the other as his forearm crossed your chest. Joel’s frame was looming over yours, and you glared ahead of you, where the screen still read ‘68.’

You could throttle him—Joel Miller simply refused to lose

“Is that all you’ve gotta say to me, after this whole time?”

His breaths were tight like yours, but the voice was slow.

“What else is there to say?” you snapped.

“You’ve been ignoring me all month.”

“I’m in college. I have shit to do.”

“Like block all of my calls?”

“Go fuck yourself, Joel.”

“Just tell me why.”

“Fuck. You.”

Your last two caustic words were still warm on your tongue when Joel turned you around. Again, he wasn’t forceful or harsh—your looks had enough vitriol for the two of you—but he pushed your body against the wall. Right beside the thermostat, your spine straightened, and your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist.

“Is that an invitation?” he hummed, voice palpably lower.

Un-fucking-believable, you thought. Of course, it was.

Silently, you prided yourself in wearing a dress that day. It wasn’t the short, red-and-white gingham thing you’d worn to the fair with Joel last month, but it was loose. Flowing. Easy enough for him to hike up your legs, sliding a coarse, warm palm up your thigh while the other held you tight to the wall. His hips pinned yours, and with that gesture, you felt him hard and desperate in denim.

“Need me to fuck you now or what? Is that the only way I’m getting a word out of this mouth?” he pressed again.

Honestly, it was. You nodded once to say as much.

Then he pushed you harder against the wall. He wrestled with his jeans just enough for you to hear a belt, and a button, and a short, sharp zip come down, and your mind was swimming with filthy ideas when he grunted.

Joel nosed your cheek, and a hand made its way to your mouth. You sucked in a breath right before you felt three fingertips graze the seam of your lips. Prying them open.

“If I’m fucking you here, I need more than a nod, kid.”

You really, really hated him now. This felt like a game. His index curled into your bottom teeth and pulled your mouth open wider, while his own was smiling, faintly. It was hard to talk with his fingers skirting your tongue—his warm, bare member springing out and grazing your folds through your panties down below—but you tried.

Your words were muffled as you spoke, “Please fuck me.”

Clearly, that was all Joel needed. With an easy nudge from the head of his cock, he pushed your underwear to the side, and his grin got bigger when he felt you soaked.

You were drooling down his length, and he hadn’t so much as touched you before he pushed you up against his body. It felt almost shameful as he slid himself inside.

Then, in the next moment, your brain went blank. Your bodies were joined completely, and Joel had you seated all the way down to the base of his cock, where a tuft of salt-and-pepper hair tickled your skin. His fingers hung limply from your lips while he nestled in; when you groaned, he used his middle and index to stifle the noise.

“Shh, hey—” he started, as if suddenly remembering where he was, and whose daughter he was fucking, “You’re okay. You’re good…I know that feels good.”

You despised him even more when he was right. He pressed the heft of his belly into you, and with the friction, you couldn’t help but whimper against his hand.

“Fuck you,” you bit again, this time through fingers.

“I am.”

Then he pushed them in further, and he made you suck. Joel started fucking you gently against the wall, and with the first few strokes, you knew you’d be putty soon enough. You focused on feeling and trying not to whine.

“I’ve been texting,” Joel continued, breath labored, sounding half-crazed, “Calling every chance I got—”

He paused to jerk his hips harder. Make you bounce on his cock or maybe just hold him closer from the force of it. And you did, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and reluctantly burying your face into the side.

He was familiar, that was for sure. You tensed seeing something else familiar—your dad in the next room—and preemptively swallowed a moan while Joel kept going.

Fucking you stupid and talking to you, per usual.

“—to make sure you were OK,” he finished, panting.

Pulling his fingers from your lips so you could answer:

“I’m fine.”

“Are we?”

“You lied to me!”

And no sooner had he retracted his hand that he needed to clamp his palm over your mouth. You’d said that loud.

In the next room over, through the open space between the kitchen and the den, you heard your dad snore softly. When your gaze flitted back to Joel’s, it was like you were chiding the other at once—whose idea was this, anyway? Slowly, he moved his hand down, but his gaze was stern.

“Didn’t mean to lie,” Joel answered, now lower than ever.

“But you did. Dad’s been fucking his old sidepiece, my mom’s best friend, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was my place—”

“Your place?!” You made sure to keep your indignation hushed this time, but your eyes went wide. Incredulous.

You would’ve shoved Joel off if he hadn’t moved first. Neither one of you had had a fraction of the presence of mind to be thinking straight here, obviously, so when he carried you closer to a table in an adjoining room, all you were thinking was how not to lose your cool completely. When Joel tried to set you down on the wooden surface, you slipped away. You moved to the couch; you weren’t even considering where you were going, just that you wanted more of him, and you needed to be done quick.

If that meant fucking on the sofa behind your dad’s recliner, so be it. Joel balked a second before following.

“Are you…?” he started, voice no louder than a whisper.

“What? Not your ‘place’ here, either?” you shot back.

Admittedly, you were both insane. No matter how far away your dad’s sleeping form happened to be, or how thoroughly knocked out he appeared from the drugs, this was batshit, objectively. Joel’s eyes narrowed at you.

Then he moved some more. Casting a sidelong glance at the recliner less than ten feet away, he gripped himself and gave you a look as if to say, ‘Are we crazy now, or…?’

You nodded to confirm that you were.

By moving again, apparently, Joel was saying the same.

Except now it wasn’t with words but with a look—eyeing you hungrily and setting all rational, sane thought aside to climb over the couch to you. Your legs were spread.

Joel slotted himself quickly between them, then inside you, without another word. His body crowded yours. The scent you knew was also the fragrance you hated most: the smell of his American Spirits. He tried to kiss you with those lips, and you dodged them, choosing instead to hold the coarse greyish hairs at the nape of his neck and pull them. Draw him closer to your body without letting him get too close to you. Joel let out a grunt.

His hips rutted in short, quick, shallow motions again, like he was desperate to feel anything. When you wouldn’t accept his lips on yours, they fell to the side of your face. He held your sides while he dragged his cock in and out of your pulsing heat, and his breaths fanned heavy on your cheek. His stubble was sharp on your skin.

“Anything you want,” he huffed shortly.

His mouth was right by your ear, and his words were spoken in a breath. And another. And another. Still panting and dragging his old, weary hips back and forth in an effort to pleasure you. He felt indescribably good.

“Want…what?” you murmured back.

You clawed at his torso and locked your legs around his waist. You glanced over at the recliner, turned away from the couch, thankfully, and hoped it wouldn’t move again. Your dad’s breaths were deep, and so was Joel inside you

Sliding a hand under your head and cradling your body to his, and still maintaining a bruising pace with his cock—you almost couldn’t take it. You wanted to come undone.

And there Joel went, murmuring in your ear. Battling the urge not to get too loud with your father there, but still:

“I’ll do anything…anything you want.”

“W-Why? For what?”

“To say I’m sorry.”

“You don’t—”

But your words were cut short. For a second, your heart leapt into your throat thinking the sound was coming from your dad’s old chair, and then you realized that it wasn’t. Just the same, your terror spiked again when you sensed it was somewhere inside—coming from the back.

“Can I get a…ROLL TIDE?!” someone yelled.

Tommy Miller wasn’t even an Alabama fan.

Still, it seemed he was here to celebrate like one anyway. You froze momentarily, taking in the shout, then the steps, then the linoleum floor of the mud room being shuffled across before the boots were kicked off quick.

His brother was quicker. Joel climbed off of you in a blink, jeans and boxers trailing just as fast. Then his hands were dropping to you, gripping your arms, and heaving you up. You stumbled. You shoved your skirt down, fast, and barely had the time to breathe while you skittered after Joel, still in his hold. The two of you ran like hell: quiet, but like your asses might’ve been on fire. You made it out to the foyer, and from there, you could hear Tommy making a fuss in the kitchen. Joel strode three steps at a time going up the stairs, and behind him, you nearly face-planted. He tugged you up then, swiftly.

Silent as death at the top of the stairs and trying to usher you into a room, not saying a word. You dug in your heels

“Wait. Wait—Tess?”

“Napping in the tub.”

Of course. You cast one last pensive look at the bathroom door before you let Joel nudge you away.

You were pushed into a room; you knew it was yours. Steeped as you were in fear, shame, and lingering inebriation, you couldn’t waste a second getting in—and neither could Joel. His frame followed close while Tommy’s old, familiar sounds grew louder downstairs. He ushered you further, walked you forward, pushed you in an inch or two too far, and before you knew it, your knees were bumping along the front of your bed. You tripped.

Your hands flew out to break your fall. Unfortunately, the limbs that were meant to stay straight were weaker than you’d hoped, and instead of holding you up, they crumpled beneath your weight. You fell on your face.

The spot where you landed was soft, though.

You let out a muffled grunt into cotton sheets.

Across from where you lay, Joel’s steps were slow—painstakingly so—and when you’d propped yourself up and blinked again and again to adjust your eyes to the dim half-light of the room, you could see him there. Pacing. Skating a look to the doorknob, as if checking to make sure he’d locked the thing properly, then running a hand through his hair. From your perch, you saw a wince.

Then his face turned to you. Again—guilty.

What the fuck am I doing here with you?

That was what you thought you saw in his expression, anyway. You felt compelled to ask him the very same.

“Why are you here? Why is Tommy here?” As if to punctuate your question, more footfalls followed, loud, “I thought he was taking my dad to the bar. And you—”

“I know. He was supposed to. Then he texted and said your dad crashed before the Notre Dame game even ended, so he figured he’d head over to the bar himself.”

You were about to speak, but Joel continued.

“I said he was an idiot to leave your dad home alone, since the man can hardly walk on his own. So I came.”

You swallowed. While some momentary swell of gratitude threatened to constrict your throat, you forced out a frown and scooted back. The room swayed a little.

“That the only reason?” you asked, clipped.

At the foot of the bed, Joel held your gaze. It was stern. Your own vacillating look was no match for the man who, in spite of the two or ten beers he’d likely guzzled that morning, could stand firm. Prop his hands on his hips.

Look every bit the displeased fatherly figure while he watched you crawl across the plush, pink bed at length.

It wasn’t right. You saw it in his eyes: the want painted there, however burdened by shame they might’ve been. No doubt seeing your childhood bedroom had kicked the guilt into overdrive, reminding him, plainly, that he was his age, and you were yours. And his best friend’s kid. The irises that shone in the glow of warm white fairy lights overhead flitted to the canopy where they hung. Joel sized up the mesh overtaking most of your bed, all flowing and girlish and juvenile as it cascaded from the four wooden posters, and he had to shake his head. He blinked faster, as if trying to rid himself of some thought.

“I’ll go,” he choked out.

“Alright.”

You unzipped your dress and let it fall to the bed the second Joel had started to turn. He stopped. Got himself an eyeful and probably could’ve bruised every fingertip from how hard he tightened his grip along his belt loops.

He watched you slip out of the fabric, then brush it aside. Clothed in just your bra and panties, you went to the nightstand and opened a drawer. You leaned down.

And, while you kneeled and bent over to reach, Joel was afforded a too-perfect view of the wet patch in the fabric between your legs. You could’ve sworn you heard a groan before you crawled back over to the place where you’d been—American Spirits and a lighter now in your hand.

“Where’d you…” Joel started, only to lose his train of thought the moment you sat and unclasped your bra.

You lit up, comfortably. Nodding to the window.

“Mind opening that?” you asked him.

Joel stood back and stared. He squared his shoulders, seeming poised to say ‘no,’ when his gaze dropped lower.

“Those’ll kill you.” But he was just looking at your breasts

Reluctantly, he moved from where he’d fixed himself at the center of your room and walked over to the window. He slid the pane up, but he didn’t let his gaze stray from you too long. As soon as the smoke found a place to go, he turned. He shook his head again. You smiled, then.

“These are yours,” you replied. You bared your teeth at him with the cigarette in between them, teasing a little.

After, you closed your lips and inhaled once. You blew a breath through your nose and let the smoke trail out. Joel scowled as he took a step closer to your bed.

Somewhere downstairs Tommy had cranked the game up louder. You could hear the blare of fanfare and a booming, cheery voice announcing a first down.

Meanwhile, Joel’s jaw hadn’t flinched. His lips were still curled in that sour, unsightly grimace. He had to have gotten a good deal of practice doing that while you were away, with every text, call, and FaceTime you’d declined over the past month, you imagined. Now it wasn’t so much a matter of being ignored as it was getting smoke blown into his face that made him irritated. Galled, even.

Joel made a pass for your mouth as if to take the cigarette away, but you were too quick. You slid back.

“Finders keepers,” you chided, trying not to giggle.

“Give it.”

“Make me.”

“Kid, don’t start.”

Joel’s face was turning pink as he leaned in again. In no more than a second, though, you’d made it safely out of his reach. He had to plant a knee on your bedspread, grit his teeth even tighter, and stretch his frame further in, and just when he’d gotten within half a foot from where you sat perched at the head of the bed, you felt a snap.

Or perhaps heard a groan and surmised the rest. Joel cursed, ‘Fuck!’ then fell to his elbow, hissing with pain.

He gripped his side, and he winced. Your eyes went wide.

“Joel?”

The cigarette fell from your lips; as soon as it did, Joel swept a brusque, graceless touch in your direction. He held tight to his side while he swatted the thing away. The second the still-lit stick hit the covers, Joel had it brushed to the side, sending it flying off of your bed.

His nostrils flared when he stood again. He crushed the cigarette underfoot. He looked pleased—then pained.

“Joel!” you hissed. This time reaching for him, and catching him narrowly before he lurched into your bed.

“‘M’alright. Stop, stop. It’s okay.”

Joel grunted, low. He held one bedpost. He clutched somewhere on his body close to the small of his back, and you could tell he felt a strain. He noticeably tensed.

“I’m fine.” And then he was starting to wave you off, too, “Lifetime of smoking’ll do that to you. And turning forty.”

You believed him. What you wouldn’t accept was how fast he tried to bend down and retrieve the cigarette from the floor. His cheeks flushed red with the effort.

And just when he’d started to tilt, you tugged him back.

You gripped his shirt and yanked him onto the bed.

Maybe that wasn’t the best for the muscle he’d pulled. At any rate, though, it was better than straining another by trying to pick up a cigarette butt, you reasoned. You hadn’t even jerked him that hard, and your bed was soft. Joel fell with a thud amidst a sea of satin, plush faux fur, a half-dozen pillows, and a mound of stuffed animals. His lips frowned as if annoyed, but the eyes betrayed relief. He breathed out a shallow puff of air once he’d settled.

“You need to stop smoking.” Grumbling now, of course.

You wanted to pinch the pout clean off his mouth.

“Yeah, really, Joel? You first,” you shot back.

“I’m old.”

“No shit.”

“Watch it.”

For someone who’d practically thrown out his back just bending at the waist, Joel Miller loved to wax poetic on the dangers of Big Tobacco. And getting old. By the time he groaned and laid flat, you decided you’d had enough of this sexless intermission, and you straddled his hips.

“Wh—” Joel huffed in protest, pushing at hands all too eager to act on his belt, “You still haven’t answered me.”

“What was the question?” you returned, careless.

But you knew it clear as day: Are we alright?

The old man didn’t stop the path of your hands, but he certainly made a show to try and pretend to stall their speed. He watched, curiosity piqued and shame still roiling in his gut, and he let you unbuckle, unzip, and finally free him from the confines of his briefs. He sighed.

It was then that you felt him hard against your palm, firm as he was before. Your mouth watered even more. When your eyes flitted up to his for permission, you didn’t expect to find resistance there, so the subsequent grip around your wrist took you back. Joel seized hold of your hand in his, and, rather than stopping you completely, he paused it in place. Sank your touch into his groin, as though tempting you with the outline of his bare length.

That was cruel. He knew what feeling him did to you.

“You know exactly what question I meant.”

What such a move would do to any girl in your position—freshly fucked and eager for more—and in your bed, no less. You didn’t care for the guilt Joel harbored today; he didn’t get to demand answers you weren’t ready to give.

“What? Feeling bad for boning your friend’s kid all of a sudden?” You smiled, voice devoid of any humor as you tried to pivot subjects, “Didn’t look like that downstairs.”

Shame flared in Joel’s eyes. Two could play at this game.

His grip tightened around your wrist, and he kept it still. In spite of this hold, you were able to flex your fingers the tiniest bit and take him snugly in your hand. He held you, and you held him, and for the next few excruciating moments, that was all either of you could do. Until:

“I would do it again.”

And then Joel’s touch was moving yours. Rubbing him. Seizing your hip with his free hand and rocking you back.

Making you hold his gaze while his dick swelled bigger.

“I don’t care if that’s wrong,” he added through his teeth.

“Wrong,” you mumbled absently. Touching him more.

It was as though you both were rooted in place by warring feelings—Joel by guilt, and you by knowing. Needing each other, and being unable to break apart. Words flowed like molasses; their end was no less sweet.

“I’d fuck you anywhere you asked if you would just—” Joel broke off suddenly, taking a breath, “Forgive me.”

Please.

The eyes beneath yours were pained with remorse.

You squeezed him tighter, and you stared more carefully.

“Here?” It left you more like a breath.

“Here.”

Your skull still buzzed. Your vision still wavered some. You could scarcely hope to know what it was that made this man a worse intoxicant than every drink you’d guzzled that morning, but the way he reached for your body and slid you back in the bed made answers pointless anyway. All you needed to know was that he wanted you, too. You could sort out the rest of it later; you let him lie you down

Joel was out of place here, that much was obvious. Clearly, no man skating through middle age belonged in the bedroom of a girl as young as you—and that was overlooking the paternal connection altogether—but all the same, he guided you back. Trailed your body with his. If it weren’t for the greys and the striations on his face and the legions of freckles bred from decades spent baking under the sun, he might’ve struck you as a much younger man. His every move now seemed to show it.

His hands shook like yours had earlier.

He watched you slide under the covers, then swallowed.

“Still cold?”

“Yeah.”

He gave you a long look, as though considering what to say. You beckoned him over and decided to talk for him.

“Like father, like daughter, I guess,” you added. Teasing.

You could hear the groan start to bubble in his throat, but Joel let you pull him in. He climbed under the sheets.

Like a much younger, doubly nervous teen around his date past curfew, he slotted between your legs with a moment’s indecision. He shed his clothes but was slow. Your gaze flitted to his torso, then his legs, and watching him gingerly undress, you couldn’t help but grin a little.

Both of you were naked in under a minute. Joel’s body was like a furnace searing hot between your thighs.

And while you smiled at him, he frowned down at you.

You might’ve expected anything next, except hearing:

“We aren’t gonna be parents anytime soon, right?”

You choked.

“What?”

Joel blinked.

“The Plan B, I mean,” he went on, color crawling up to his cheeks. He blinked harder, like he’d been dreading this, “Wasn’t sure if you ever got your…yeah. Just wonderin’.”

Just wondering.

After Joel’s Cenozoic-era condom had broken the first time you two had ever fucked, you realized you hadn’t bothered to tell him if you ended up getting your period. He’d probably been trying to ask that over the course of several dozen unanswered texts and calls the last month, but you’d been radio silent. Your drinking today had to have given the truth away, but you still felt a pang of guilt

You admired his sincerity. You didn’t want to mock it.

But when your lips twitched the tiniest bit, Joel’s did too. He’d heaved a sigh of relief before you’d even answered him in words, and for a moment, things were easy again.

“I’m sorry, Miller. That probably had you scared shitless.”

“It did.”

And, under most other circumstances, you probably would’ve expected him to chastise you for it a little. Chide you for your immaturity and shake his head, because this was always how it went. But he didn’t.

Joel smiled back instead, and he kissed your forehead.

You blinked, shortly summoning words to try and deflect.

“I mean, like…can you even imagine us having a kid?”

“I can’t. I think I’d be…” Joel trailed off, at a loss.

“Pissed to be changing diapers in your fifties, I bet,” you finished for him, and that made him laugh. You joined in, grinning, and for a second you almost forgot he was still between your legs. His cock softened against your belly.

“You’d be a hot mom. I’d be an old dad,” he countered, suddenly lowering his face to kiss and nuzzle your neck. When the ebbs of your laughter were renewed in a fit of giggles, and your feet kicked helplessly under the covers as he used his mouth and hands to tickle you then, you had to choke through your words—‘Joel, stop, I mean it.’

“Ticklish and hot, I forgot.”

His fingers were relentless on your ribs. You kicked again.

“Don’t fucking test me. I—I will kick you out,” you warned

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Go on, then.”

Evidently, the thought of ordering him back downstairs with your dad and Tommy seemed like the least likely outcome at the moment, so Joel kept tickling you. He moved his lips to your ear, about to whisper something stupid and teasing, most likely, when you jerked yourself the other way. You slid just far enough to reach off the bed. While you clawed at your nightstand, Joel simply draped his body over yours and went on kissing and touching and relishing the sounds you were making—even while you were cursing his name under your breath.

“Go. Go. Enough of this shit, Miller,” you finally told him, nudging Joel back and waving something in his face.

“Wh—”

“Since getting knocked up is the last thing either of us wants, and we’ve been terrible about playing it safe…”

It didn’t take long for Joel to recognize what it was. As soon as he’d lifted his head to ogle it, you didn’t let him stare at the box of condoms for more than a second or two before tearing it open. Its seal had still been intact.

“New stash for someone special?” Joel hummed, low.

“Nope. Just you.”

Your old friend didn’t seem to appreciate that remark, returning your smirk with a roll of his eyes, but he took the metallic-wrapped rubber when you offered him one anyway. He tore off the top. He probably would’ve liked to put the thing on, but with all the time and brainless banter that had passed, he had to get himself hard again. He eyed you once, and, wrapping a hand around himself semi-erect, he seemed to want to say something more.

You wouldn’t let him. You kissed him, and he kissed back, and with your legs sliding around the backs of his own underneath the soft, warm sheets, he probably forgot what he was going to say. Your lips and tongues intertwined without needing those words to be spoken, and before long, Joel was growing harder. He sucked in a breath when your hand reached down to touch him, soft.

Joel grunted when your touch replaced his. While you stroked his length, you could see the muscles tense in his stomach. The heft of his belly was smooth, and firm, and protruding with little patches of black and grey hairs, and the man looked so undone already with just your fingers curling over his shaft. You would’ve held him that way for as long as he asked. Would’ve relished the warmth of him in your hand, the way his breaths grew more ragged as he kissed you and let you pump him gently between your body and his. You might’ve mistaken it for something romantic when he reached up and brushed the hair out of your face, before pulling away and mumbling, ‘That’s it. That feels real good, sweetheart. You’re doin’ so good.’ But being the way you were, you couldn’t accept such intimacy without wanting to shy away. You pushed his words aside and reached for the condom in his hand, swallowing thickly as you did.

The latex went on quickly. Joel hardly seemed of a mind to try and slow things down with his body just as taut, on edge, and desperate as yours. He planted an arm beside your head, and you guided his length between your legs. It felt cozy. Tender. Nervous like this could’ve been your first. A little strange seeing how you’d done this multiple times before—had started it just downstairs, against a wall and on the couch—and somehow, felt different now.

Joel sank in, and both of you groaned.

“I missed you, baby.”

It came from him all in the same breath. Your walls clenched, and he said it again. You peered up at the man, half-expecting to see his eyes shut and the feeling of you guiding his words more than anything else—he hadn’t meant you, but what was between your legs. But when you looked, you met his gaze. Joel was earnest, clearly.

“Did you miss me?” he panted, hips dragging back.

With the head of his cock drawn all the way up to your entrance, tip stretching that soft, sticky flesh, you could scarcely do more than whimper. You laced your fingers together behind his neck, felt him push in again, and suddenly, the sensations churning low in your gut got warmer. Stronger. They made you want to hold on longer

He felt so big inside you. Overwhelming you with his size and his scent and the way his lips trailed over yours while he fucked you; it all seemed too much to give a response.

Joel kissed you again, and your bodies fell into a rhythm. You squeezed his neck, let out a breathy whine when his cock grazed something soft and sensitive between your walls, and then pulled away fully to look down and watch.

He did too. He kissed the crown of your head, mumbling:

“See how good we fit?”

Those words could’ve sent you over the edge. Your body shuddered at the next thrust, feeling the warmth of his breath still fanning across your face, and you nodded.

Your eyes all but glazed over as you watched Joel’s big, glistening cock disappear and reappear from inside your body, coated with your arousal and the rubber and looking every bit as dizzyingly good as it had before. The wet noises only increased in volume the more he sped up, and with the need blossoming in your stomach, you had no choice but to moan. Joel plunged even deeper.

“Did she miss me, at least? Did she miss her daddy?”

Your walls clenched at those words—‘she,’ ‘daddy.’

Still, you couldn’t speak. You just nodded back.

Joel’s motions grew stronger, and with every stroke inside you, his cock hit something plush and sweet. You had to bite your lip to keep the sounds from coming out too loud, but the effort was almost wholly in vain. The harder he went, the more your throat came to betray you. The more Joel seemed keen on getting you to speak.

“Feels like she does, hon,” he said, tone dulcet and low, “Pussy’s been squeezin’ like she needed daddy here.”

That was true. Your heels dug deeper in his ass, and you felt something tender swell up inside, almost painfully.

Joel was moving your whole frame with the weight of his thrusts—your body bouncing beneath him, the bed creaking under the force, your old childhood room being filled with the sounds of your blooming pleasure and his. Your cunt stretched even more; it begged to be fucked deeper. Though your mouth couldn’t form the words, it seemed Joel was more than able to make out the rest.

He brought his thumb to your clit. He rubbed it, then caught your lips in a hot, steady kiss when a whimper from yours was just about to threaten to tremble out.

“Atta girl,” he grunted against your mouth, “That’s it.”

His hips worked faster. His thumb moved with even more precision, more persistence, as though begging your pleasure to come. You could feel the sweat bead on your skin and his; your bodies seemed to blend together. Your legs tightened around his sides, and while he fucked you and kissed you more fervidly then, you could feel your resolve start to slip. You broke from the kiss, panting.

“I can feel her, honey. Keep goin’,” Joel urged.

You weren’t sure if you could. It felt good.

It felt safe. You hadn’t felt that in a while.

Or maybe just since you’d been away.

You thought of the last, vulnerable state you’d been forced to endure—feeling hurt and betrayed after Joel had lied trying to keep you ‘safe’—and your body tensed. You held tighter, but you also couldn’t lose that feeling completely. You were so close, and there was still something else you couldn’t yet define, or explain.

“Cum for me, baby,” Joel kissed the side of your mouth, knowing the feeling coursing through your body too well, “Take what you need. Just let her feel good. It’s all okay.”

All okay.

Your walls fluttered again; your moans grew breathy and faint as Joel’s cock wedged deeper and deeper and his kisses grew softer along your face. It was evident you were there—you knew you were there—but then, the way you felt was like no place you’d ever experienced before.

You wanted to tell him something.

You met Joel’s gaze, and you almost did. Then he withdrew and fucked back in, and all words were lost.

The headboard thumped against the wall; you didn’t hear it. Joel’s one free hand was cradling your cheek, and his face drew closer, and right when you sensed the man was about to drop another kiss, you felt release, at last.

A snap.

A dizzying blow.

Your climax struck with all the force of a seismic wave, and, at the same time, you could feel Joel groaning, pulsing, spurting thick ropes of cum into rubber while his gaze stayed locked on yours and your body came apart. The look from him was sickeningly soft, even at his peak.

Intimate, again.

You couldn’t help it.

With your legs trembling, cunt spasming, and eyes still plastered to Joel’s, you felt that something resurface. This time, you didn’t have a hope of keeping it inside.

“I— I— I love you, Joel. I love you,” you stuttered out.

Your voice was tight. Your eyes burned with tears you hadn’t even sensed might threaten to appear with it.

You broke down and felt the sudden urge to sob.

And, just as quickly as you did, you shoved him off.

Regret flooded your chest. You shouldn’t have said that.

Joel was slow to move, no matter how much you tried getting him away. He was still in your bed, crowding your space—and worse yet, he was staring at you, eyes wide.

“Baby—”

“Don’t.” Your gaze was still wider. Wild. And remorseful, “I didn’t— I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t mean to say that.”

Joel had pulled out, but he was still between your legs. You slid backward in the bed, cheeks flaming with heat.

He followed.

He reached out.

“Please don’t,” you begged, shaking your head before his touch could find you. Your pulse thundered in your skull.

The sound almost drowned all other noises out.

At the next, you wished it would deafen you completely.

“I love you, too, baby,” Joel said.

No sooner had his palms come to rest on your face when you were shoving them away. Standing up from the bed.

“You don’t mean that. I didn’t mean it. Just— just stop.”

“I—”

“Need to go.”

You hardly realized it, but you were pointing to the door.

Joel was just getting the condom off, about to stand up from where he was, when a new sound startled you both.

The garage door was closing. Tommy shouted your name saying he needed help bringing something in, and for a second, you both froze. It was happening all over again.

You knew you couldn’t risk getting caught another time. Not with your father in the house, unconscious or not. Silently, you thanked your lucky stars for the opportunity afforded by this moment—getting Joel out—and bent to grab his clothes off the floor and throw them, one by one. He dressed, albeit reluctantly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but you were busy racing to throw on your own clothes, thinking of ways to get him out unnoticed. You heard the door to the garage slam shut downstairs.

“He’s gonna be back any minute. You need to go, Joel.”

“Come with me. We have to talk—”

“I have nothing else to say.”

“But you—”

“I lied. And so did you. Just like before,” you gritted out, “You can spare my feelings—I didn’t fucking mean it.”

He felt bad, that was all. You could see it in his eyes.

The pity, the self-loathing, the guilt; it was all there.

The sight made your stomach turn, and though your legs weren’t steady or sure underneath you in the slightest, you knew you had to go. If Joel didn’t intend on making things easier, you would have to leave first. You felt him reach for you, saw the plea in his eyes and knew how wrong this really was—that you had both fucked up—and couldn’t stay there. Again, you wrenched yourself away.

You didn’t give him the chance to protest. You heard words, dimly, but barely had the sense or self-possession to process one syllable of it, so you left. You bounded down steps, pulse hammering even louder than before, and you didn’t think to turn around or let Joel follow or even remotely allow yourself to stop feeling embarrassed

Leaving was for the best anyway.

If Joel had lied once, he’d lie again.

Downstairs, you cleaned. You folded laundry.

Joel had snuck out a while ago, having slipped from your room, down to the kitchen, and out the back door while Tommy was busy retrieving beer out of the garage. You’d gone down there to distract the younger Miller brother while Joel packed his shit up and left. Like he was meant to do. Luckily, Joel’s departure was quiet, and Tommy was all too happy to have some help toting cases of Budweiser inside. Your dad and Tess were still fast asleep

And now, nearly half an hour later, you had only to sweep the hardwood floor, fold your clothes, and busy yourself as best you could—or else grit your teeth so hard you could’ve broken your jaw. You were so fucking dumb.

“Almost done?” Tommy poked his head inside the room.

You’d told Joel you hated him last month. One measly fuck and you’re spewing, ‘I love you’? What the fuck?

“Just about,” you replied, dropping an old shirt of your dad’s into the nearest, neatest pile, “You heading out?”

Tommy jingled his car keys in his hand and hummed to say that he was. He had a happy, Alabama-just-beat-the-shit-out-of-Tennessee smile on his face as he stood there

“Yeah, I’m going back to Mando’s now to celebrate and watch another game. Was wondering if you wanted to come along,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“I would, I’ve just got so much shit to do around here—” Gesturing indistinctly to the mountains of clothing stacked high all about the laundry room, “—cleaning.”

Beating yourself over the head, mentally, for ever telling his older brother that you liked him in the first place. Wishing you could crawl in a hole and wallow alone.

“Aww, that can wait. You’re here the whole week—”

“I know. But I gotta keep an eye on my old man, too.”

You rubbed at your face and pretended to get re-invested in a pair of socks with two gaping holes. Your father wouldn’t discard old, ratty clothes to save his life.

Then Tommy was at your side. Pressing against the washing machine and watching you work. Smirking.

“By ‘your old man’ do you mean your dad…or Joel?”

For the second time that day, you almost choked. You tried not to let it show but were sure you failed miserably.

“I— I— what?” you huffed, all terse, feigned incredulity.

“Don’t play stupid. Only suits my dumbass brother,” Tommy returned coolly, turning to face you head-on, “You sound just like him whenever I ask about you.”

“Whatever he’s said—” you started again.

“I heard his truck hightailing it out of here while you came down to distract me. Heard his footsteps, too.”

While your cheeks warmed, Tommy’s smile only grew.

“Aaaaand the headboard was bangin’ pretty loud—”

“Alright!” You threw your hands up, “Fine. OK. Enough.”

Your surrender was fast, far too grossed out to fight it.

You closed your eyes and wanted to die. From next to you, you could hear Tommy’s amusement morph into laughter. It didn’t take much to wring the truth out of you, and for a man who knew you as well as he did, there was really no telling where this would end. Once Tommy Miller called bullshit, there was rarely ever room to argue.

The last time that had happened, he’d sent you and Joel packing to abstinence camp and had never looked back.

Why he was finding humor in this now was beyond you.

You dropped the socks you were holding. You shot him a look as if to ask him just that, and the man shrugged.

“I know y’all skipped out on camp. Could’ve guessed there was some sort of fight between you two after that, because I’ve never seen Joel so goddamn grumpy for—”

“Yeah, well,” you cut in, not wanting to hear the rest, “That’s over now. Seriously. Today was just a fluke.”

Before he could even try to voice his disbelief, you added:

“Just don’t tell my dad about this. Please.”

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that was probably the furthest thing from his mind, but you asked it all the same. Tommy scoffed, and then he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest like he couldn’t believe a word you were saying now. Like a smug big brother who didn’t know how else to say that you made a terrible liar.

Because that was what he’d been to you before you ever got with Joel in the first place: a good, no-bullshit friend. The recognition of this made you feel even worse inside.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said at length, much to your surprise.

His arms constricted even tighter against his chest and his eyes scanned yours thoughtfully before continuing.

“I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in y’all’s business. What you and Joel do is up to you—I just hated the thought of things, uh…going south. Making it weird between you.”

“Like now,” you said quietly.

A beat.

Tommy scratched his neck.

“Yeah, a little like that,” he replied, breathing out a laugh, “But that’s alright. Joel’s my brother, and I love him, but the man can’t navigate a relationship to save his life. Much less with a girl your age. So just…keep that in mind. I don’t wanna see either of you getting hurt.”

In other words: don’t be stupid and get attached.

‘You’re right,’ was all you knew to say. All you felt capable of telling him now, after what had come to pass that day.

Frankly, you didn’t need to speak another word to get the gist of what he meant, and like he’d said, it wasn’t on him to dictate how you handled things with Joel. The message was clear enough, and the truth was all there.

You couldn’t make this work.

Joel wouldn’t make this work with a girl as young as you.

He’d only said what he said today out of habit—a knee-jerk reaction. He didn’t know what the fuck else to say when his best friend’s kid he’d been banging spilled out ‘I love you.’ And you didn’t blame him for it. But you also couldn’t expect him to be something he wasn’t when all this was ever supposed to be was a casual fuck here and there. You’d been confused and needing to feel safe. He had wanted access to something he shouldn’t have, and now that the thrill of that was wearing off, he felt trapped and cornered into saying what he had, for your sake. The best thing for the two of you now was a clean break, before any more feelings got muddled and misspoken and brought to anything worse than they already were.

It would suck for a while. You knew it would. The next second had you leaning in unconsciously, watching Tommy uncross his arms and pull you in for a hug.

This would really suck.

You buried your face in his chest.

There wasn’t much to say; still, Tommy said it best:

“Whatever happens, you’ll be fine. I know you will.”

[queertransetc]

- ED trigger warning -

Being skinny ruined my life. If you’re thin and think to yourself, “why don’t fat people just lose weight?” Please read this

I was the “ideal fat” in the sense that I did everything skinny people wanted me to do. I tried every diet in the book. I exercised regularly. I worked with doctors and dietitians to figure out the best way to lose weight. But nothing worked. I did everything “right” to lose weight, and my weight stayed the same

But the thin people in my life kept telling me that I wouldn’t be happy, attractive, healthy, etc. until I lost weight. So, heartbroken, I came to the conclusion that anorexia was the only option left. It felt safer than bariatric surgery, and was obviously much more affordable

I became the perfect anorexic. 700 cal a day or less, except once a week I allowed myself 1400 cal. For reference, my body required at least 2800 to maintain weight, and at least 1800 to keep my organs and stuff fully functioning. Still, 700 a day, I persisted because everyone in my life told me weight loss was all that mattered. If dieting didn’t work, anorexia had to

And it did. My weight dropped all the way down to 110 pounds. I was skinny - underweight, even - in all sense of the word. The people in my life saw it as a miracle. The ultimate success story. My mother, my “friends,” my doctors, they all congratulated me on my accomplishment

When I confessed my eating disorder to my doctor, he told me, “that’s not the best way to go about it, but I’m glad you lost the weight.” My mother took pictures of me and sent them to relatives to brag

Okay, great. I was skinny. I did what I set out to do. But there were severe consequences

The most obvious was my joint pain doubled, maybe even tripled, to the point that I couldn’t leave the house without a wheelchair

I also developed several health complications, including fatty liver disease and extremely painful GERD. I had to see a handful of specialists and get an endoscopy because of severe stomach pain

My partner, who was the only person who saw my weight loss for what it was (a horrible thing that only happened because of an eating disorder), convinced me to enter a recovery program

For nearly a year, I relearned how to feed myself. I ate everything I was told to eat, nothing more and nothing less. My diet was 100% in the hands of somebody else

And I gained back every pound I has lost. All of the work to become thin went right out the window. It was proven to me that thinness and health were incompatible with my body. If I wanted to be thin, I had to forgo my physical and mental well-being. And vise-versa

Prior to the anorexia, I never once struggled with binge eating. I was naturally an intuitive eater, and I did a good job of having a well rounded diet. After the anorexia, after recovery, I developed a binge eating disorder. I had spent so long starving myself, that my brain and body got stuck in survival mode, desperate to consume any and all calories out of fear that I might starve again. To this day I struggle with binge eating

I did everything thin people wanted of me. I dieted. I exercised. And when all else failed, I starved myself. Now I have liver disease, stomach issues, and BED. Not to mention the loads of mental issues that accumulated as a result of my weight loss journey. During the throes of my anorexia, I had to be hospitalized for suicidal ideation

When you tell fat people to “just lose weight” you are suggesting they give themselves illnesses for which treatments are not always effective. You are asking fat people to destroy their stomachs and livers. When a fat person loses so much weight that they become skinny, they are likely giving up so much of their health in efforts to be treated like a human being

If you’re thin, do your part. Treat fat people like people before we tear our bodies apart

[ivyues]

First-Night-Nerves and Quite Moments: Stray Kids' reactions to first sleepovers

Bang Chan

Chris arrived at your place after a tiring recording session but smiled when he greeted you. "You look dead on your feet," you teased, pulling him inside.

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. "I didn’t want to miss seeing you."

As the night went on, you could see his exhaustion growing. "Why don’t you just stay over? You can't drive home like this." He hesitated for a moment before responding, "Only if you're okay with it."

He offered to sleep on the couch, but you insisted that you share the bed. After a few more moments of uncertainty, he finally agreed, lying down beside you but keeping a respectful distance. He stayed rigid, his heart raced every time he heard you shift.

Finally, you whispered, "Channie, are you uncomfortable?"

He sighed softly. "I don’t want to overstep or make you uncomfortable." Smiling, you gently nudged his arm. "You’re not. Relax."

After a long pause, he put an arm around you, his voice barely a whisper. "Is this okay?" You nodded, leaning into him. "Much better."

Lee Know

Lee Know had suggested the sleepover a few days earlier, jokingly adding, "Bring snacks, though. And make sure they're the good kind."

The evening was full of both of your playful banter, but when it came time to settle in, he was oddly quiet. He flopped onto the bed first, leaving ample space for you. He mumbled a quick, "Goodnight," avoiding eye contact.

After a few moments, you shifted in bed, pulling the blanked tighter around yourself. 

"You cold?" he asked quietly.

When you nodded, he threw an arm over you, mumbling, "Don't hog the blanket though." His tone was playful, but you could tell he was still a bit nervous, as if trying to seem nonchalant.

You smiled to yourself in the dark, knowing he was more anxious than he let on.

Changbin

When Changbin invited you over, his casual attitude almost masked the amount of thought he’d put into it. His place was spotless, a soft playlist playing in the background, and the bed piled high with pillows.

"You didn't have to go all out," you teased, settling on his freshly fluffed couch.

He laughed nervously. "It's nothing. Just wanted it to be nice."

As the night wore on, he seemed to become more fidgety, checking everything multiple times. "Pillow good? Too much blanket? Too little blanket?"

You couldn’t help but laugh. "Everything’s perfect, Binnie. Let's just sleep."

When you settled in bed, Changbin stayed awake for a while, marveling at how surreal it felt to have you there beside him. It was a quiet, content moment, and he couldn’t help but smile softly to himself.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin suggested the sleepover during a late-night call, his voice laced with excitement. "We could paint, watch a movie, just hang out."

When you arrived, the room was already set up – soft fairy lights glowing and paints neatly arranged. The evening felt like something out of a dream, filled with laughter and gentle kisses as you painted side by side.

When it was time to sleep, Hyunjin grew quiet, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "I... uh... set up the bed for us," he said, his voice soft.

You smiled and took his hand, guiding him to lie down beside you. He laid awake for a while, stealing nervous glances at you, overwhelmed by how lucky he felt to have you there. It felt like something so special and intimate, yet so natural.

Han

Han had come over for an anime night, and after binging a whole series, it was well past midnight. You casually suggested him to stay.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

"Yeah, it’s late. I don’t want you going back."

He agreed, but the nervous energy practically radiated off him. "So, uh... where do you want me to sleep?" he asked, glancing between the couch and your bedroom door.

"The bed’s big enough for both of us. It’s no big deal." You said softly.

His eyes widened, and he nodded. "Right. Totally normal."

Once in bed, he lay stiffly, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, he whispered, "Thanks for letting me stay. I feared it might be... weird."

You smiled, turning to face him. "You’re overthinking it, Hannie. Just relax."

His nervous laugh was soft, and eventually, his body relaxed. By the time you fell asleep, he was already snoring lightly, a peaceful smile on his lips.

Felix

Felix had shyly suggested the sleepover after you both talked about wanting to spend more time together. "Only if you’re comfortable, of course," he’d said, his voice soft. "I’ll make pancakes in the morning."

When the night arrived, he welcomed you with a warm hug and a beaming smile. The evening was filled with cookie baking and watching your favorite movies.

Later, as you cautiously laid in bed next to each other, he hesitated before asking, "Is it okay if I...?" His hand hovered near yours, waiting for you to take it.

You smiled and nodded, and he gently wrapped his fingers around yours. As you drifted off to sleep, he stayed awake for a while, his heart full and his cheeks glowing with happiness.

Seungmin

The evening you agreed on staying over, Seungmin’s room was immaculate, every detail carefully thought out. He handed you an extra pillow with a smile. "Just let me know if you need anything."

As the night went on, his calm demeanor started to falter. When it came time to lie down, he placed a noticeable gap between you.

"You don’t have to stay all the way over there," you teased.

His ears turned bright red, but he slowly moved closer. Over time, the initial awkwardness faded, and he found himself relaxing in your presence.

By morning, you woke to find his hand resting just inches from yours, a quiet but undeniable sign of his affection.

I.N

Jeongin had been thrilled about the sleepover, texting you excitedly about movies, snacks, and possibly even a pillow fight.

When you arrived, he greeted you with an eager grin, his energy infectious. The night was filled with laughter as you watched old comedies and built a blanket fort together.

During a snack pause, Jeongin suddenly stood up and headed toward his closet.

"Here," he said, pulling out one of his favorite hoodies. He tossed it over to you, a little shy but still smiling. "You can wear it while we watch the next movie."

When it was time to sleep, Jeongin grew quieter, his confidence replaced by a shy smile. "I hope the bed’s okay," he said softly, glancing at you.

masterlist

[victorbutnotreally]

"Shh"

Yang Jeongin x Male Reader

title credits to lovely anon.

warnings: brother's best friend, three years age gap if that's a thing, jeongin calls Mn "hyung" during sex, size kink kinda, choking, sex with clothes on, spit as lube (doesn't work but it does in fiction)

He's been obsessed with Mn ever since he was a kid. Mn was three years older than him and always came over to play with his brother. And even his brother's less closer friends were considered by Jeongin as his brothers, but not Mn. Oh absolutely not. That laugh, those hands, the way he would always bring him a candy or something when he came over?? The way he would help him with his homework and teach him better than his teacher did?? Jeongin used to debate in his head if he should run away and hide or go spend time with him. And as they grew older, the attraction grew too. And then he became and idol, and Mn moved to France for university.

Right now, Jeongin was home. Finally on a well-needed break from idol life as he lazed on the couch, eating chips and binging shows. He heard the doorbell ring, but he was one with the couch now, ain't no way he's getting up.

"Eomma!!," he called, hoping his Mom would answer the door. He could hear his mom tsk affectionately as she made her way over to the door and opened it.

He couldn't see who was at the door, but his mother's excitement and the way his brother bolted down the stairs made the butterflies in his stomach return. Was it Mn? He slowly got up and went towards the door, carefully for some reason, as if approaching a snake. He almost choked on his chip when he saw who was at the door. Mn. Mn, whose cuteness was still there despite him losing his baby cheeks. Mn who looked like a damn model. He grew up. A lot. Seeing Mn's sculpted body, and his mature face which still had the boyish charm made the butterflies in Jeongin's stomach turn into birds which clawed at his stomach. In a good way, of course.

He watched as his brother tackled Mn in a hug, and Mn returned it. He could only watch as Mn's forearms rested on his best friend's back, flexing due to the strength of that hug. He gulped, smiling awkwardly when he saw Mn's eyes on him.

"H-Hi hyung," Jeongin smiled, a laugh coming out when Mn hugged him as well.

"Hi little rockstar."

Jeongin, his brother, and Mn were watching a movie. Everyone else was asleep. He could hear Mn's laughs at the movie. He wanted to smile and admire how pretty the older man's laugh is, but his mind just had one image: Mn's forearms. God. Not just his forearms, but him in general. He loved how big Mn was. How he was always bigger than him. He tried keeping his thoughts pg, but his mind was just not letting him. He put a pillow in his lap to hide his erection, but the ever so observant Mn noticed. He smirked and put an arm around Jeongin's shoulder, feeling how the younger tensed under his touch.

As the movie ended, Jeongin's brother went to the kitchen to see if they have snacks, knowing damn well they don't. He sighed and went back to the living room.

"We have no snacks. I'm gonna go get some, wanna come with me Mnie?"

"Nah. Jet lag, man."

"Alright."

Now, Mn knew how much time his best friend would take at the convenience store. He knew he'd get carried away, he'd walk around, get tired, and then end up eating ramen or something at the convenience store, then resume his shopping, and then walk home. He had plenty of time. Once his best friend left, Mn turned to Jeongin.

"What's with the pillow, hm?"

Jeongin was too enamored with Mn's forearms to notice that accent before. His cheeks tinted pink, he spoke, "Nothing."

"I know it's not nothing, innie. Don't worry, love, it happens to all of us."

His tone made Jeongin want to pounce on him, and so he did. He crashed his lips to the older's, relishing the taste of his chocolate chapstick. Mn smirked against his lips, hands moving to rest on Jeongin's waist. He nipped at his bottom lip, sliding his tongue in as the younger let out a moan at the soft bite. He could feel Jeongin's hands up his shirt, exploring the muscles underneath. Mn broke the kiss to catch his breath, but dove right in once he saw Jeongin's hands slip down his sweatpants. He let out a low moan once Jeongin started stroking his dick.

"Need you, hyung. Please."

"Aw, look at you. So cute."

Mn's spat on his fingers and slid them in one by one into Jeongin's hole, peppering kisses down his neck, making the younger moan more. He moved his fingers in a scissoring motion, and Jeongin grabbed his hand and led it to his throat, making Mn smirk as he wrapped it around his neck.

"You like that, baby? God, you look so good right now. Makes hyung wanna devour you."

"Please do, hyung…please.."

Mn had to control himself when he saw the slight pout on the younger's lips. He pressed a soft kiss to it before pulling out his fingers and spreading Jeongin's legs with that hand. He slowly slid himself in, watching as his mouth gaped open, gasping at the intrusion. He started moving once he bottomed out, hips snapping against him at a pace which made the other male moan so loud. He put a hand over Jeongin's mouth to muffle his moans.

"As much as I want to hear your pretty sounds, baby, you gotta stay quiet, yeah? Don't want your family to hear now, do you?"

Jeongin shook his head frantically, eyes rolling back as Mn's thrusts grew stronger. He hooked Jeongin's leg over his shoulder to go deeper and moaned as the younger clawed at his back. He captured his lips in yet another kiss, tongue exploring his mouth as he quickened his pace, the searing kiss swallowing both their moans.

"Hyung…I'm gonna cum"

"Go ahead, baby."

Jeongin threw his head back as he came, soft whimpers leaving his pretty lips. Mn pulled out and jerked himself off. He pulled up his pants and went to the kitchen to grab paper towels to wipe everything off after washing his hands. He cleaned Jeongin up who quickly put his pants on when he heard footsteps. Mn settled himself casually on the couch, wrapping an arm around Jeongin's shoulder, looking up when he saw his best friend.

"Finally. What did you eat at the store today?", he asked, as if he wasn't just fucking the man's brother minutes ago.

"Tteokbokki."

"Mhm."

taglist:

@forever-atiny

[midnightorchids]

Hello I'm literally obsessed with how you write jason todd and how you invision him I binged your jason todd list and it's so good. I was wondering if you could write one where he has like a bubbly golden retriever girl who is obsessed with him and would leave any conversation to just go to him

First of all, you’re a literal sweetheart omg! Thank you so much for reading, I’m so glad you like my work! And second, I am so so so sorry for how late this is!! This idea is so cute, Jason totally deserves a cute and bubbly gf!! This is a little bit long, but I hope you like it!!

Jason had once again invited you to another one of Bruce’s galas as his date. Formal events were never your scene, but you couldn’t say no to Jason, especially when he’d ask so politely.

He’d stare at your face lovingly with his big doe eyes. His calloused hands would cup your face gently as his thumbs delicately grazed your cheeks. His bitten lips would turn into a small smile and you couldn’t bear to say no to his pretty face. That’s how the story always went, he’d stare at you innocently and you’d always agree to attend.

Jason hated attending galas, but he hated going to them alone even more. Hence why he brought you, he wanted you there for moral support. 

He always tried his best to be gentleman when it came to these types of events. His eyes never leaving you for a second.

A few years ago he made up a code for when you’d attend formal events together. You still remember the look he gave you when he explained the “rules.”

His gaze was gentle and his hands were laced with your own. He spoke in a soft, hushed voice, “okay pretty girl, listen up. One squeeze, means you’re done with the conversation. Two is for when you’re ready to leave. Got it?”

You almost never had to use the code though, somehow Jason always knew when it was time to head out.

Galas and formal events were always so consuming, exhausting almost. The politics and business were far too confusing. You never found yourself wanting to engage with most people as it felt awkward to initiate conversations sometimes.

You’d spent most of the evening stuck to Jason’s side with his hands firmly on your waist or tangled between your fingers. 

However, despite your views of the galas, you were a star. Men and women alike frolicked around you, like bees to a flower. You were always a source of wonderment— polite, kind and beautiful. 

You always greeted everyone with a soft, welcoming smile. You were bubbly and made an effort to look engaged in conversations when people approached you. Whenever you’d do this, Jason couldn’t help but smile to himself. It wasn’t your element, but here you were immersing yourself into these empty conversations for him. 

This particular gala felt similar to most of Bruce’s events. Noisey chatter and expensive gowns engulfing the room.

You were starting to feel tired and Jason was starting to feel antsy too. But he was cornered by three men in matching black suits and it was too awkward to leave. You and Jason rarely got separated at such places, but it had seemed to be just one of those nights. You took a seat at the nearest table, as the pair of stilettos on your feet were starting to cause an uncomfortable ache.

You stared into the crowd, a smile small on your face when you’d accidentally make eye contact with someone. You were in your own head, paying no mind to your surroundings when a tall man walked over to you. 

“May I sit here,” he said, pointing to the seat next to you. You nodded your head with a polite smile. 

Minutes go by and you notice the man trying to gather the courage to speak to you, but it seemed that every time he tried, he got nervous. You tried to ignore his behaviour and found yourself looking around the room for Jason. He still seemed to be preoccupied with the men.

Jason’s jade eyes met your gaze from across the room and his stern expression slowly morphed into a small smirk, making the scar near his lip more pronounced. 

He nodded along with the men, but his attention was on you. He stood up taller, trying to fix his posture. He ran a hand through his styled hair, making it just the right amount of messy. He looked good in his navy suit and your eyes raked his body. He looked pretty today and he knew it too.

A voice brings you back to reality and you look over into the direction of the sound. It was the man from earlier. 

“Pardon,” you asked softly and the man smiled. 

“Oh, I was just saying that it’s quite lively here tonight,” he said fixing his tie anxiously.

“It really is, it’s very loud tonight” you kept your answer short. The man looks up at you, his eyes fixed on your lips. 

“So I was wondering-” the man’s words don’t seem to register, you’re too busy looking at Jason. He was done with his conversation and was making his way over to you. You quickly get up in excitement.

The man still seemed to be talking and you find yourself interrupting him. 

“I’m so sorry but my boyfriend-” and Jason pulls you in by the waist, paying no attention to the man. 

“Hey pretty girl, I’m sorry I took so long,” he says. His voice low and sympathetic. You grin in response, happy to see your boyfriend again.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, “let’s go home Jay. I’m so tired and my feet hurt,” you confess, pouting. 

Jason smiles gently. You look beautiful to him. He takes a strand of your hair and tucks it behind your ear and you can feel your face getting hot. Even after years of being together, Jason still had this effect on you. 

“Let’s go, want me to carry you,” Jason giggles and you smack his chest playfully. 

“I’m fine, let’s just leave,” he intertwines your fingers in his and leads you out the door. 

The man’s face looks stunned, he didn’t expect you to run off with your boyfriend mid conversation. 

[chuuyascumsock]

You're All I Want [Week Two] || MINORS DNI

Summary: No one really seems to fit your standards, your roommate, Chuuya, proves otherwise.

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, 3.5k Words, Jealous Chuuya, Cunnilingus, Pussy Worship, Overstimulation, Spitting, Cum Eating, Chuuya Comes In His Pants, Petnames (Pretty Girl, Dollface, Sweetheart, etc.), He Should Be The Standard Tbh, Wyd If Your Man Isn’t A 5’3” Ginger Mafia Executive, Perhaps I Projected Slightly Since It’s My Birthday In Two Days And This Is My Gift To Me, Mwah.

Sinners: @pe4rl-diver , @sakui1 , @mxya-dreams , @runs-withscissors , @writingandmusing , @mairia-chan , @dearestwitchtrials

Becoming a mafia executive’s roommate was not on your to-do list, yet here you were— from moving what was left of your belongings into a large empty room to finally redecorating the minimalist aesthetic your roommate’s apartment seemed to take on with him barely being there already due to his occupation. You seemed to fill a space in Chuuya’s life that he didn’t know he was missing.

Now there wasn’t a day he didn’t come home late into the night and not expect you to be up and about doing your own activities, acting as if you were some nocturnal deviant that haunts the night with random shenanigans. He can’t count how many times he’s walked in to find you nursing one of his cheaper bottles of wine and cooking or baking something that you just happened to find while scrolling through social media, offering him some in return with an awkward grin to avoid his wrath for finishing nearly half his bottle. Of course, he was always too tired to fight you on the matter from the day and would take the rest of the bottle for himself before sitting at the island counter to wait for you to finish with whatever you were making.

Or the amount of times you bought something new to add on to the decorations in your apartment, showing it off proudly to Chuuya as you placed it next to the tons of other random vintage-looking trinkets and paintings you got in the past. Though he never complained much because how could he argue about how busy the decorating looked when he was barely there to look at it in the first place?

And when he got the day off, you were there with him most often, binging movie series or begging to go shopping with him because you couldn’t help but marvel at the small stationary sections they had in the stores he frequented. He rolls his eyes and scoffs every time with a snarky, yet harmless comment to make about your buying habits— wondering when you’d ever need a dog themed wine opener, only to realize weeks later that he had been using it every time he opened a new bottle and that you payed close attention to his likes and dislikes. It made him feel a little bit better about allowing you to be his roommate at all, not sure how it would go with how you were when you first met.

He never once thought he’d experience having a woman come up to him while was in the middle of fighting at least five opposing gang members to ask him for directions to the nearest convenience shop. Of course, he almost didn’t have that chance to advance any further with you as he had with the onslaught of bullets that came your way, but with his ability and quick reflexes, he pulled you out of the way to take cover behind a car, chastising you on your social awareness— or lack thereof. Your reasoning behind approaching him out of everyone else in the area was beyond him, and you admit that you don’t even know why yourself, seemingly finding that you were just naturally drawn to him. And he did eventually get you to that convenience store that you were asking about.

How you ended up being roommates? Chuuya likes to blame the fact that he was partly raised by Kouyou to be a gentleman for his choice of offering you a place in his apartment after you met him once more weeks later at a bar, whining about the flooding in your apartment complex that had everyone looking for a new place to live, including yourself. He’d never seen you look so flustered and timid, trying to back track and stumble over how it really wasn’t a big deal and how you were just going to couch surf with one of your friends until you found somewhere else to stay.

If there was something that Chuuya was, it was stubborn, but he learned that night that you were too— going back and forth for nearly an hour with each other until you were immediately persuaded with the promise of him taking you out to ice cream after getting you sobered up and back to your place to collect what was left of your items.

You settled in quickly and easily, your presence becoming one that Chuuya couldn’t ignore if missing.

Which is why he was so put off by your absence one night when he came home to find everything in dead silence with all the lights and TV shut off. It almost felt… empty, and it caught Chuuya off-guard. Maybe you went to bed early for once? But usually when that happened, you always— always left the TV on while you slept away on the couch, curled up cutely beneath one of his expensive throw-blankets. There was the chance that you weren’t feeling well and decided to sleep in your room for once, but after quietly shuffling over to your room and peeking in, your bed was empty— sheets strewn about and your multitude of pillows bunched around your sleeping spot.

Then he thought there was always the possibility that you got one of your random cravings for a specific junk food and went down to the small convenience shop down the road to buy it. But he knows that you always drag him along no matter how tired you both are or how long you have to wait for him to get home because you feel safer with him.

Pacing back into his room, he takes off his hat and gloves, hands sweaty as he takes out his phone. On one hand, he doesn’t understand why his nerves are acting up because you were probably fine— you had other friends— maybe you’re with them. But there’s still that small thought in the back of his mind that there may be something wrong and he knows it’s definitely because of everything that he’s dealt with in the mafia, including watching nearly everyone he’s ever cared about die. He clicks on your name and sends you a text asking where you are, and if you didn’t answer in five minutes, he’d try to call, and then possibly even go looking for you— but you answer almost immediately and he lets out a soft, relieved sigh that he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

“Didn’t you see my note on the fridge? Aww. You miss me that much (＾ｖ＾)?” As he read your message, he could hear your voice clear in his mind, a small huff leaving his nose as he does. Finally being able to relax, he makes his way into the kitchen and turns the light on to see a yellow sticky note plastered to the fridge with your writing in pink glittery ink. “Won’t be home till super late, on a date. Made udon earlier, leftovers in the fridge.”

Letting the information settle in, he only focuses on the first sentences of your note, a blank look on his face as he re-reads it at least three more times.

A date? He didn’t realize you were even interested in that stuff, or maybe he just assumed you weren’t because he wasn’t interested in it due to focusing on the mafia. At least until now. He doesn’t understand the irritation that eats at him at the thought of you spending your free time with some guy that doesn’t know you at all, probably more interested in the thought of what’s beneath your clothes than anything else. But that’s not his business, so he shouldn’t have a say in it. He wasn’t a controlling person— outside of the mafia at least— he thinks. So why does he feel like he deserves to put any of his two cents in on you going out and enjoying yourself?

He’s barely able to sleep with these thoughts running through his head, deciding to drink a glass of wine while sitting on the couch to soothe his nerves. But it doesn’t stop until he hears the front door unlock and open, a pair of heels clicking against the wood floor. Which was interesting because you didn’t own heels— not going out enough to really bother with them. His head turns to look behind him over the back of the couch, sucking in a breath when he catches a glimpse of you in a tight dress, bent over to take your heels off. His head whips around to face straight again and tries to rid of the image burned in his retinas, free hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

Your feet slap against the ground quietly as you walk over to the couch, moving to sit on the other end of it and lean against the arm rest. You slouch over and sigh tiredly, ready to doze off. “How was work?” You ask, voice groggy.

Glancing away, Chuuya avoids looking at you, deciding to focus on his wine. “It was fine… jus’a lot of paperwork today,” He stiffly replies before hesitantly asking in return, “How was your date?”

He could not explain the relief he felt for a second time that night when he heard your groan of disdain, clearly having had a failed date. “It was going well and then after dinner he said that he wanted a blowjob because he was entitled to one after paying for my dinner even though I offered to pay for my own half. So really, he was just a douchebag,” You mumble out as you curl up further against the armrest, tugging a folded up throw-blanket off of the back of the couch to cover yourself with.

A loud scoff escapes Chuuya lips before he comments, “Yeah, sounds like a real piece of work.”

“S’not even the first time this stuff has happened,” And this fact has Chuuya eyeing you.

“You went on more dates?” He tries not to sound like he’s about to burst a vein, but knowing that you’ve gone on more dates than just the one guy has him nearly foaming at the mouth.

Shifting to sit up a bit, you wrap the blanket around your body and tuck your hands under your chin, watching him brew in a small bout of anger. “Yeah— went on a few actually, but they sucked too. I just went earlier in the evening while you were at work. Why’re you getting so worked up?” You hold back the amusement in your voice and let your eyes follow his bare hand to come up and run through his hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Would’ve kicked their asses,” Chuuya grumbles instead of answering your question directly. It makes you giggle quietly, holding back more laughs when his head whips over to look at you and his face scrunches up. “What? What are you laughin’ about? They’re fuckin’ assholes…” He strains, his cheeks flushing at your small grin.

“Nothing… just think it’s a little funny that you’re getting more upset about it than me,” You point out, moving over to sit closer to him.

“Because— cause…” Chuuya trails off, glancing to the side as his face only grows a darker shade of pink. “Guys can be jerk offs, okay? I would know. And it’s bullshit that they treat you like that.” You can tell that something is making him act unusual from his normal nonchalant demeanor— and it only encourages you to get even closer to him until you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder with him.

You think it’s a little cute that he’s so defensive over you, feeling his body stiffen at how you’re pressed against him before relaxing a bit, but still avoiding eye contact. “It’s fine, I’ll just chill on the dates for a while, no one’s been meeting any of my standards anyway. I’m starting to think I’m a little picky.”

“Yeah? What’s your standards?” He mumbles, staring down at his half full wine class as he waits for your response. But instead, he feels the weight against his body shift, your chest now pressing against his arm and warm breath blowing against the side of his neck. Turning his head to look at you, he sucks in a quiet breath as his heterochromatic eyes meet yours in a stare. You gaze at him with a knowing look, eyelids falling into a lull and pupils flickering down to focus on his lips— and he’s done for.

There is no perception of how much time has passed from Chuuya’s lips meeting yours to him lifting you up by the thighs to carry you off into his room and throw you down onto his bed. Climbing over you to hover above your body, his hands are pushing the hem of your dress up eagerly and fumbling to get his own shirt off, lips moving along yours messily, smacking together loudly as he presses you further into the mattress. Everything about his movements are desperate and impatient, taking you back as you had never seen him like this. You eventually tangle your fingers into his slightly mused hair to pull him off of you, panting loudly as you take in breaths of air.

A low groan rumbles from the back of Chuuya’s throat as he subconsciously moves back down to chase your lips, only to be met with your hand tugging on his hair again and an airy laugh from you. “Chuuya, slow down.”

Chuuya lets out a heavy huff, head falling to rest in the crook of your neck as his hands move up to rub along your sides. “You make it hard, pretty girl– ‘specially with this dress on. God, it drives me crazy knowing you wore this for someone else, s’just not fair,” He groans, fingers dragging down to finally push your dress over your hips to reveal your bare cunt to him. You weren’t wearing a damn thing underneath your dress. Chuuya feels at a loss for words, lips parting and pressing together in attempts to find the words he’s looking for before uttering a soft, “Fuck,” And meeting your gaze. “You’re not wearing anything,” He shakily utters, cock twitching to strain against his pants.

“I kind of forgot to do my laundry last night…” You shrug with a timid grin.

He nearly laughs— it’s just like you to do something like this— but he’s too distracted by the way your hand runs through his hair and legs shamelessly rubbing together to do so, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He’s quick to decide his next moves at the sight, hands gripping your thighs to spread them open as he shifts himself down the bed to hover between your legs.

There’s a strangled noise that squeaks out from your throat at his impatient movements, cheeks burning when his rough hands press against the insides of your thighs to press your legs against the mattress, leaving yourself on full display for him. “What are you doing?” You slightly squirm beneath him.

“Stop that,” He orders firmly, pressing his hands harder down against your thighs. “I wanna taste you,” He murmurs, lips pressing down just below your belly button before moving down to your drooling cunt, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. If he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was now, grunting at the feeling of his aching length pressed against the mattress.

“You don’t have to do that, Chuuya,” You card a hand through his coppery tresses, tugging them for him to look at you.

Chuuya’s mismatched eyes trail up to meet yours, brows narrowed, face still hovering close to you. “I’m doing this cause I want to, dollface, so quit stalling and let me eat this pretty pussy out,” He huffs, bringing a hand down to spread your slick folds apart with his fingers. “Fuck, Sweetheart, can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” He groans, leaning in to place a wet kiss against your core. There’s a deep chuckle that leaves him when your hips jolt faintly under his touch and you bite back a moan. “Filthy girl, you like me kissing on your sloppy cunt like this?” He growls out, lips meet your warm insides again, moving against your labia and dripping entrance lewdly as his tongue slips out to lap up your arousal.

You can’t help but tighten your fingers in his hair, whimpering at the feeling of him making out with your pussy, tongue dragging through your lower lips painfully slow to savor your taste all the while staring up at you intensely through his lashes. “Chuuya…”

Chuuya hums softly against you, parting from your pussy with a soft kiss to your clit. “You taste so fuckin’ good, y’know that, pretty girl? Could’ve been doing this ages ago instead of wasting your time on those other guys,” He sighs, readjusting his arms to wrap around each of your thighs and rest them on his shoulders as he leaned back in to wrap his lips around your throbbing clit. His hips grind subtly into the mattress, desperate to rid of the stiffness in his weeping cock, whining lowly into you.

A gasp slips from your parted lips, hips bucking into him needily. “T-Thought you weren’t interested so I— ah— didn’t say anything. Mm! Shit, that feels really good, Chuuya,” You moan out when he sucks harshly at your sensitive nub, your fingers tangling into his messy hair further as you tug at them.

“Could’ve jus’ asked, doll,” He muffles, detaching his lips briefly to spit a glob of saliva onto your clit, watching it trail down to your entrance before bringing his thumb to swipe it back up to your clit, rubbing it in to mix with your arousal. “Like I’d pass up a gorgeous girl like you,” He trails off, burying himself back into you to plunge his tongue past your tight entrance, smothering your spit slickened nub with his thumb.

Your hips only grind harder against him with each curl of his tongue and rub of his thumb, eyes fluttering shut tightly and lips parting further with each broken moan. It’s difficult to respond or even think much with the stirring pleasure coiled in your lower stomach, the only words falling from your mouth being his name. You can’t even move away from the overwhelming pleasure when your release crashes down on you without warning, his arms locking you against him tightly, lips noisily smacking and slurping up everything you have to offer, his own loud groans reverberating against your pussy as he humps against the mattress with fervor, chasing his own high.

You let out a soft cry when he continues eating you out, rolling your pulsing clit between his teeth and tongue before suckling roughly, attempting to pull another orgasm out of you. “Oh, fuck! Chuuya, please— can’t— fuck, fuck— m’coming again,” You choke between whimpers, pulling roughly at his hair as you mindlessly buck your hips against his face until you’re coming for a second time on his tongue which has his own hips stuttering against the mattress as he comes in his pants.

Chuuya finally pulls himself away, placing a final kiss to your inner thigh before shifting to his knees and climbing back over you to cup the side of your neck and pull you into a needy kiss, the taste of your cum still on his tongue. “Y’pretty when you lose yourself like that, dollface. Had me comin’ in my pants,,” He chuckles breathlessly, trailing kisses down your chin to your neck and then back up to peck your lips. “You okay?” He asks, watching you tremble beneath him.

You give a lazy nod, your eyes meeting him to see his pupils lust-blown, hair wildly messed up, and chin drenched with your slick. One of your hands moves to the side of his face, thumb swiping over his chin to wipe away some of the mess he made with a small smile. “I’m okay,” You whisper, voice a bit raspy. “Are you okay?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, catching his breath, “Yeah, M’fine, sweetheart.” He then moves to lay beside you, tugging your dress all the way off your body to toss aside and pepper kisses along your shoulder, curling up against you. He ignores the dark stain in his slacks, leaving it to be a problem for later as he relaxes.

“Hey… Chuuya,” You call out, head turning to face him, nose bumping against his.

“Yeah, doll?”

“I lied about going on more than the one date tonight, I just wanted to see your reaction,” You admit, watching Chuuya’s face twist into multiple different emotions before settling on a blank look.

“You’re not walking for a week after tonight.”

“Woah! Let’s talk about this, I was just joshin’ you!“

“We’ll see how funny it is when you’re using crutches—“

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Showering with Bang Chan ‗ ❍

Pairing : Bang Chan x f reader

Summary : chapter one of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, nudity and suggestive themes involved but no smut fluff, literally ONE angst word, domestic!, channie best boyfriend idc

Word count : 500

A/n : none

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Imagine showering with Chan. It could either go very chill or very *exciting*. Usually starts with the first and follows with the second BUT- just in general it would be such an intimate time. The possibilities are endless to be honest.

You came to a certain point in your relationship in which you were a hundred percent comfortable with each other. And most importantly loved doing things for each other!

"Can you massage in the conditioner for me?" "Of course baby"

You'd both help the other, moving your hands up and down each other's bodies, often giving small massages and relaxing the tense muscles. Chan especially just melts whenever you touch him, two of his favorite spots bing his neck and shoulders.

"Oh my Gosh that hurts so good" he whines as your fingers work his aching neck, basically turned marble from being bent over a laptop all day.

"It hurts or it's nice, which one is it?" you tease him, chuckling. He groans slightly, almost too gone to even answer.

"Shush. Mmh, both. I don't know, just keep going" his head first leaning forward then back, almost touching your shoulder.

You'd relax together, getting all soapy and wet under the hot water. Sometimes just lazily hugging and making out, losing track of time.

"We should get out, it's getting so hot I think I may pass out" you murmur against his swollen lips. He starts kissing your neck instead, humming.

"You flatter me too much" it takes you a second to let sink in what he just said, but when it did, you lightly slapped his naked shoulder, snorting a laugh.

"Stupid" he smiled, chuckling cheekily, and you could literally feel it on your skin.

Sometimes it was a matter of saving time instead of having fun, though. Maybe one morning you were both running late so while he was shaving you were also shaving, or washing your hair. Or vice versa honestly.

And other times again you even had small arguments while showering. Nothing really major because it wasn't exactly appropriate to pour out your feelings while being literally naked and wet, but a few times it did happen.

It usually either ended up being interrupted and finishing once you were both dry and ready to go at each other, or literally be the calming moment you needed to clear things up.

"I'm sorry if i was an asshole earlier" he rests his forehead on the nape of your neck, wrapping his arms around you. You sigh, placing your hands on his jointed ones.

"I know you're very stressed" you start, turning your head to the side searching for his, "But thanks for the apology nonetheless"

"I love you", he nuzzled his nose on your cheek.

"I love you too" you pecked him on the lips as a confirmation you forgave him.

Anyways lots of cuddles and massages and kisses and stuff!! Chan king of caring for his partner 100% <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[samkerrworshipper]

underneath the surface

umm so i’m back.. kind of? this fic was a rollercoaster but i hold it very near and dear to my heart. i hope you all enjoy it and find some comfort in it because i definitely do <3

warnings: no warnings just some medical jargon and talks of endometriosis!

Alexia has always been credited for her attentiveness.

Most people say that it’s the reason she’s such a good captain, and of course, she denies to everybody that she just goofs around less than some of her teammates.

But, inevitably, it’s true, Alexia is a lot more attentive than other people. She pays attention to the small things, the under the surface things, things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelid at.

Although, in her opinion, she doesn’t need to be observant nor attentive to be curious about this one part of your relationship.

It doesn’t take brilliant observation skills to recognise a pattern, from the age of two most people are able to recognise patterns. For a two year old, it’s colours and shapes and different farm animals. For Alexia it’s become an observation.

It’s routine, a pattern, a constant repeat in your relationship that for the first few months she ignored.

Like a broken record constantly repeating itself, every month, without fail, you disappeared for a couple of nights.

Not literally, for those days you’ll retreat of the pitch and inside to the gym but Alexia still sees you everyday, and for the most part, you’ll still go out for coffee with her and go on walks together, but for at least three nights, sometimes up to 7, there are no sleepovers, no late night movie binges, no dinners.

It went unnoticed by Alexia for longer than normal, love was Alexia’s biggest weakness and it subtly impaired her abilities to be as observant as she prided herself.

Who could blame her? It was hard to be detail oriented when she was too busy enjoying the puppy dog love that came from realising that she was so in love with her life with you, even if it was still relatively new.

But, even with her focus partially impaired, it didn’t take a whole lot of skills to recognise the abnormality of what was occurring.

It was particularly abnormal, because for every other day of the month, you spent your nights at Alexia’s. Alexia would even go as far to say that you're pretty much moved into her apartment. Your dog had a bed in her apartment, your training kit and bag had a permanent spot at her door, most of your clothes were now sitting next to Alexia’s in her wardrobe.

Your apartment, for the most part, existed purely for the sake of storing all of your furniture. Alexia had brought up leasing it, you’d been dating for almost a year now and whilst it was a short time to move in with each other, the two of you spent so much time together that to her it made the most sense. Beyond that, it was her way of testing the water, to see if her observation was as real as she began to think it was.

Your immediate denial of the idea confirmed what she had been beginning to think.

Originally, she’d thought that maybe you were overwhelmed from constantly being around Alexia, it was a lot being at training together all day and then heading home to each other.

It didn't make sense though.

When you were together, you were attached at the hip. You were both naturally clingy towards each other and after questioning Mapi about it, as ambiguously as she could, she was backed up in that it wasn’t normal behaviour for an overwhelmed person to be so eager to be so connected.

So, the theory was canned and when the following month the same thing happened, Alexia’s curiosity peaked once again.

She moved onto a theory that maybe it was some kind of homesickness, that you just needed to sleep in your own bed a couple of nights every month.

But not only did you constantly complain about your own apartment and how unhomey it felt in comparison to Alexia’s, it was always the same week every month.

Which should have been the biggest clue, and yet for whatever reason it had completely slipped past Alexia.

It was only when one of the team doctors had approached Alexia about her cycle changing, that it all clicked for her.

Alexia’s period had skipped, and they’d logged it a couple of months ago. Obviously, without noticing, it had been because the two of you had synched up, which made plenty of sense.

Alexia’s period was an inconvenience, but it wasn’t a true bother, just something she had to put up with. In all honesties though, for her, her period was nothing to her, she had hardly any symptoms, her body functioned the exact same way, everything was almost the exact same.

Yet, every month, when apparently your period came around, you happened to disappear for a couple of days. Alexia would have loved to think it was a coincidence, but with her new knowledge, she decided to put it to test.

She wasn’t surprised, when the following month her own period came, a couple of days later you were back to hiding out at your place for a couple of nights.

Like lightwork, when you came back to Alexia, you were the exact same, like nothing had happened, and yet Alexia was certain that there was something being hidden underneath the surface.

A lot of people were insecure about their period, Alexia had grown up in a house full of girls, her period had been anything but stigmatised, and she was grateful for that.

She was self aware enough though to know that not everybody was fortunate enough to have that same experience. She was also aware that unfortunately, sometimes peoples partners could be unaccepting and close minded about those kinds of things.

So, when the following month, Alexia got her period and without fail, four days later you mentioned that you would drive yourself to training so that you could head back to your apartment afterwards, Alexia was already plotting away.

She had time to think about it during video review that day, there wasn’t a lot to focus on then when the team was coming off of a 4-0 win to Atletico and anything that was of importance, aAlexia had already noted when she’d watched the immediately after the game.

It was a sound plan in her mind, chocolate, a heat pack, your favourite italian takeaway, Alexia’s favourite hoodie that you always tried to steal and your favourite blanket from her apartment.

Alexia wanted you to know that you could be just as comfortable in her home, regardless of what was happening. Hopefully, in knowing that, you’d let go of the part of you that was so clearly avoiding Alexia.

Alexia, above being observant, liked to be a problem solver. She liked to take initiative, she liked to fix things.

So, after a shower and a quick snack when she’d returned home, she packed up all of the supplies. On the way to your apartment, which she hadn’t visited in months, she picked up food and then was on her way.

In the early months of your relationship, it had just been easier for the two of you to spend time at Alexia’s because it was closer to the training grounds and more lived in.

Whilst you’d been living in Barcelona now for nearly three years, your home was still in England, and it had been hard for you to fully settle into Barcelona even if it was your home for now.

Alexia knew it, so she’d welcomed you into her home with open arms. It had been heartwarming for her to slowly watch you integrate yourself into Alexia’s life, it made her happier then anything else.

So, she made her mind up that whatever this bump was, she was going to help you get over it, so that she could have all of you, and most importantly so you would feel like Alexia cared.

The feeling that Alexia got as she pulled up next to your car in the lot of your apartment was chilling, in her gut it felt like something was wrong. It was a feeling that set into Alexia's stomach as she stepped out of her car and hurried to collect her things before making her way over to the elevator.

Alexia stays as composed as she can manage, even though on the inside, the worry is starting to set in.

It’s not like theoretically she has anything to worry about, it’s not like this is an abnormal situation, but the weird feeling in Alexia’s stomach is putting her off and the only thing that she can think will make it better is seeing your face.

All Alexia wants to do is wrap you up in her arms for a moment, for her own peace of mind, to stop the off feeling that has been resonating inside of her as she’s tried to get to the bottom of this problem, that’s not really a problem. It’s an inconsistency, and one thing about Alexia is that she doesn’t like inconsistency. She fixes problems, she doesn’t enjoy living life whilst there is something that isn’t quite right, and she needs to make this right.

Alexia knocks at your door quietly, two little raps that she hopes you hear.

When she receives nothing in response, she knocks again, this time a little bit louder.

Alexia waits a few seconds, whilst it’s been a couple of hours since your session there is the off chance that you're in the shower or bath.

After quite a bit of waiting with no noises from the other side of the door, Alexia knocks once more, already pulling her keychain from her pocket and feeling for the spare key to your apartment.

When she finds it, she pulls it up to the lock, waiting just a few more seconds before slotting it into the keyhole and twisting it until it clicks.

The first thing Alexia notices is that your apartment is completely pitch black and if it weren’t for the fact that she saw your car earlier, she might have just left.

Alexia tiptoes her way through the entryway and into your kitchen, it’s hard to see much with all of the blinds pulled shut and none of the lights on, so she blindly feels around for the light switch until she finally finds it and flicks it.

The immediate groan that comes from the direction of your couch definitely does not go unnoticed by Alexia.

“Lights off.”

As fast as she can, Alexia turns the light back off, before curiously tiptoeing over to the edge of your couch.

You’re a lump under a pile of blankets, but she’s able to make out the shape of your body underneath it.

“Hey baby.”

You groan again, and the feeling in Alexia’s stomach only gets worse.

Alexia takes a few steps forwards, assessing you in front of her.

Her hand reaches out tentatively for you, she feels around the mass of blankets until she feels a part of your body underneath the pile of fluff, she follows the lump until she makes her way up to your head.

Your whole body is warm, or the blankets are warm, she isn’t actually quite sure where the blankets end and your body starts.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice is all croaky, and Alexia is certain you must be sick and she’s somehow missed all the symptoms of it.

“I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Alexia’s hand finally finds a bit of skin on your neck and she traces her fingers until she finds your jawline.

“Go home, Ale.”

The sound of your voice is making Alexia antsy, she can’t believe she’s missed the fact that you are sick.

“No, bebita, you’re sick and I’m here to look after you. I have your favourite food and chocolate, we can cuddle up in bed and you can sleep this off. I brought my hoodie for you.”

Alexia turns your head up, so your hair is peaking out of the blanket mound and she can see your squinted eyes.

“I’m not sick, Alexia.”

You keep your eyes crammed shut for the sake of not making the pounding headache you have any worse.

“Bebita, you’re all hot and croaky, it’s okay to be sick, I’m here to look after you.”

If you weren’t working so hard to keep your eyes closed you’d roll them, but that seems like far too much work for right now.

“Alexia I’m not sick, I’m just on my period.”

Alexia’s brow furrows, if your eyes weren’t closed you’d catch it. It’s the same furrow that always happens when Alexia thinks somebody else is wrong and she’s right.

“Bebita, this seems like a little bit more than a period. It’s okay, I’m here.”

You groan and Alexia recoils slightly.

“It’s just my period.”

Your deadpan makes Alexia confused.

“Your period shouldn’t be this bad. Are you having some heatstroke? It’s been warm out today, or are you having a migraine? You need to remember to hydrate.”

Your head is throbbing and Alexia’s theories aren’t helping.

“I have endometriosis Alexia, this is what my period looks like.It’s not fucking heatstroke or a sickness it’s just how my body is..”

Out of everything Alexia had been suspecting, that wasn’t it.

It suddenly dawns on Alexia that she can’t fix what you’ve just told her, she’s standing in front of you completely dumbfounded at what to do in this moment.

Alexia is a problem solver, she finds solutions for the biggest and smallest problems, and yet she doesn’t have a solution for the problem she is being faced with.

“Baby, just go home, the first night for me is always the worst, if I feel better I can hang out with you tomorrow.”

Alexia doesn’t have a solution to the pain you are going through, but she knows she isn’t going to let you suffer alone. The information that you’ve been doing this by yourself for a year now is making Alexia feel like the worst girlfriend ever and she’s going to change that.

“No, bebita, no. I’m staying here tonight, I’m here for you mi vida. Would it make you feel better if we got you into bed or into a bath? What’s going to make you more comfortable? Have you had medication? How about some food?”

When another groan leaves your lips, Alexia becomes aware that she’s approaching this the wrong way.

“How about I go and put the food in your kitchen and you decide what’s going to make you feel best. I’m here for whatever you need, okay?”

Alexia quietly tiptoes back into your kitchen, taking her time to put her things away and pulling two bottles of water from your fridge before making her way back into your living room.

You’ve emerged from your pile by the time she is back, your eyes are still closed but just seeing your face makes Alexia’s nerves settle just a little bit.

“Can we go to my bed, please?”

Alexia smiles at you softly.

“Of course amor, do you want me to carry you or do you think you can walk?”

The apprehension on your face is enough of a answer for Alexia.

She walks over towards you, picking up your blanket fort and body like it’s nothing and gently lifting you up, stepping carefully in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan out at the change of position, nothing feels good at the moment but Alexia’s arms are more comforting than the scratchy material of your couch cushions.

When she makes it to your bed, she lowers you down like you are the most delicate piece of glass, making sure that you’re tucked underneath the sheets before easing you out of your arms.

“Do you need anything? Heat pack? Water? Talk?”

Again, all Alexia’s words do is make the itching pain all over your body ten times worse, it’s all consuming and makes you feel choked.

“Bed, hugs, that’s all I want.”

Alexia is antsy, she wants to make the pain you are in better, she wants to know what to do right now instead of being completely blind in the situation.

“Are you sure? How about some pain relief or a cold compress?”

Alexia is no doctor, and up until five minutes ago she had absolutely no idea about this whole situation and whether she feels like she can admit it or not she’s terrified about it all.

She’s made up her mind that as soon as you're asleep she’s going to go on a deep dive of google searches to get to the bottom of this whole situation, but that will have to wait.

“Alexia, if you want to be here, just get into bed and give me some fucking hugs. I’m not in the mood to be told what to do with my body when I’ve been dealing with this for years, make up your mind of whether you want to be here or not.”

Alexia avoids conflict with you at all costs, she’s earned the title around your football friends of being your puppy dog, because she simply agrees to anything and everything that leaves your lips, and hearing you remotely mad at her makes her crumble.

“Sorry bebita, I’m so sorry, you’re right. I’m here for whatever you need.”

Alexia makes quick work of slipping her shoes off, something she never got around to in the darkness of your entryway.

She follows by taking her socks and outer layers off, stripping down until she’s in her tank top and a pair of old Barcelona training shorts.

Once she’s done she creeps around to the other side of your bed, slipping underneath the covers as subtly as she can manage.

When she’s completely covered, she lies back, unsure of how to approach all of this new information.

“You’re lying like a rigid corpse.”

Alexia gulps, she can see you in her peripherals, you look absolutely exhausted and in the kindest way possible, ten years older with the amount of wrinkles across your skin, bumps and ridges she can only imagine are the tightness holding in all of the struggle that you’re going through underneath the surface.

“Alexia, I’m okay, I’m not dying.”

Alexia knows theoretically that is true, she doesn’t have endometriosis and she’s not close to anybody who does, but she knows what it is. She knows it’s not cancer or something life-threatening, but the depth of the realisation that you’ve been suffering for so long and have kept it from Alexia is slowly pulling her apart at the seams.

You roll over slightly, it causes shocks of pain to go up and down your back and stomach, but you need the comfort as much as Alexia does, even if she isn’t ready to accept it.

She’s going through her process, compartmentalising all of it so she can be the brave and stoic face she always is.

You’re used to it, and you’ve come to realise that even though in these kinds of situations it seems like Alexia needs to be left alone, in reality she needs to be kept close by her nearest and dearest.

So, you worm your way on top of her body, it makes the cramps ten times worse and the nausea takes control of your stomach, forcing somersault after somersault, but when Alexia’s arms reach around you out of instinct it’s worth it.

You’re in pain, your uterus feels like it’s got knives embedded along the lining of it, like there are needles poking in and out of your back and gunshots being fired across your lower abdomen. But you’re well used to it, you’re used to the feeling of needing to throw up from having such intense throbbing pain across your whole core.

You’re used to the pounding headaches and migraines that come naturally from your body being so inflamed and agitated that all the tension eventually spreads to every single inch of your body, from the tips of your fingers to the edges of your toes.

Your head settles on Alexia’s shoulder, and her hand snakes it’s way down to the outside of your thigh, she’s being more cautious than she’s ever been with you and the normal you would probably be heartwarmed by her sweetness but the part of you that is currently seeing the worst kind of stars because of the cramps coursing through your body is just desperate to climb into her bones now that she is here with you.

It’s been ingrained in you since you were a kid that it was best to not bother other people with your weakness, it was your own struggle, your own burden.

You’d kept it from Alexia for this sole purpose, for the purpose that you knew she would take it all on as her problem, that she would try and fix it all and spend all of her time and energy trying to solve it all when you just wanted her to treat you the exact same.

She treated you like a princess everyday, but add a crippling reproductive condition and you knew she’d treat you like a priceless artefact. You were grateful you had a person in your life who would move heaven and earth in such a way for you but it was suffocating sometimes, when you were functioning on a normal level.

It was with those thoughts running rampant in your head that you slipped off into the same light sleep that you were lucky to drift into in these circumstances.

Whilst you drifted off, Alexia was left alone with her own thoughts.

Insecurity wasn’t something Alexia experienced often, she was secure in her body, she is as secure in her football as she has been since her knee injury, she’s secure in her family and up until today she felt completely secure in her relationship.

Now, she doesn’t know how she feels.

She knows that it’s likely you have a good reason to have kept this a secret, or a reason that you’ve justified to yourself. She knows underneath it all, you’re the one who’s secretly been hiding a big insecurity from her and she has no right to be truly mad about it, she’s disappointed that you haven’t felt able to share this with her when it feels like Alexia has bared all of her deepest, boniest secrets with you.

She does what makes sense, she reaches for her phone from her short pocket and begins to google all of the big questions that are swirling around in her mind.

You might have wanted to keep this a secret from Alexia but now that she knows about it she’d be a bad girlfriend if she didn’t educate herself on this.

So, instead of drifting off to sleep, Alexia drifts off into the land of medical journals and words that she doesn’t understand the meaning of but she’s determined to figure out.

You wake up in the morning in less of a state of excruciating suffering, instead of being stuck in a fiery inferno of hell you feel like you're dancing more on the periphery.

Your body is warm, in a way that makes you feel less like your insides are scorching you from the inside and more like you're generally just hot.

It feels like a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as you try to unroll from the blankets that you’d swaddled yourself in the night beforehand in an attempt to try and make yourself feel as small as possible in hopes it would somehow shrink down everything you were feeling.

It’s a feverish dream, and as you recall your night, blotches begin to come back to you and the memory of your girlfriend appearing somewhere along the way makes the dull cramps across the front of your stomach beat in a way that makes you uncomfortably uneasy all over again.

As you assess your surroundings and open your eyes for what feels like the first time in months, you notice that Alexia is no longer in bed with you.

It’s all extremely faint in your head and there is an off chance you’ve dreamt it all up, but the very faint smell of coffee drifting through the air and folded up clothes sitting on the dresser on the wall across from your bed.

You’re feeling less deathly than last night, so you wager your chances with slowly sitting up in your bed, when you don’t feel any different you begin to lift your legs up.

Your muscles ache in the same way they do every time your period comes around, they tweak and they constrict like you’re an eighty year old instead of a twenty something.

It’s rough, it’s uncomfortable and it’s painful but it’s life.

It’s your life, it’s your burden, it’s your problem and knowing that Alexia is now a part of it all makes you queasy in a completely different way.

Your heavy on your feet as you stand up and begin to creep towards the door of your bedroom, with every step every one of your toes grinds against the floorboards. Your heel digs in, your ankles crunch, your body moves in a way that mirrors the way that you are crumbling from within. On these kinds of days, weeks and months, everything hurts. Everything is an effort.

Once you make it to your open door, you steady yourself against it, your nerves are working against you, everything inside of you is actively trying to stop you and you’ll be damned if you let it happen.

You only stand still long enough for it to be classified in your brain as a stall, not a break, not a stop. You can’t stop in times like this, if you stop then you’ll never get going again and that is a whole pit of fuckedupness that you aren’t ready to dive into.

From the door, you try your hardest to tiptoe your way through the hallway to your living space, but it’s impossible in your body.

As you inch closer, the sound of Alexia only becomes more apparent and obvious, and as you creep closer the agitation across your body only gets worse.

As you reach the archway between your hallway and living space, the sight in front of you makes your heart throb and your uterus ache even worse then it already is.

Alexia is swaying in your kitchen, apparently to whatever music she has playing in her head. There is coffee on the counter, accompanied by two bottles of juice and water, like she couldn’t decide what would be best. To accompany the extra drinks is toast, eggs, bacon and pancakes on the stove.

It’s too much.

With the combination of hormones in your bloodstream you’re honestly impressed that you don’t burst into tears.

Alexia’s still here.

Alexia, sweet, loyal Alexia.

You’ve been conditioned to keep all of this a secret, that during this week it’s best to keep yourself and everything you’re going through hidden, for the best of yourself and for everyone around you. Yet, here Alexia is doing way too much for you.

You’re downward spiralling when her voice breaks you out.

“Hey bebe.”

Her voice is close to a coo, the same voice she uses with Irene’s son. You don’t let it affect you in the moment, but you’ll think about the tactic of it later.

“I have food for you, and coffee if you want it, but google told me that sometimes that’s not always good for endometriosis. So I got juice as well, because google also said it might help with inflammation.”

The thought behind it is extremely sweet, and you feel slightly overwhelmed by all of the options.

“You didn’t need to do that for me.”

Alexia frowns, it’s slight and hardly noticeable, but the little wrinkle between her eyebrows is an immediate tell.

“I wanted to, I want to help you, however I can.”

The sentiment behind her words is lost in the sudden shock that you experience as her words settle in, you’ve never met a single person, besides a doctor whose job it was to help you, that gave a shit about this.

When you have no words, Alexia finds some for you.

“I want to talk to you about this, I want to know about it, I want to help you. We’re partners, we do everything together, and I want to do this with you. I don’t want you to lock me out and I don’t want you suffering alone. I’m here for this, I’m here for you to lean on.”

You nod your head, her words feel like a drug, like it’s lifting away some of the pain you’re going through.

“I’m serious, this isn’t something you can hide from me. You looked after me when I hurt my knee and I am here to look after you in the same way when you’re in pain. Bebita?”

Alexia’s hand falls to your side, caressing your hip gently.

“I’m not used to people knowing about this, and I’m even more not used to people caring, I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to process.”

Alexia’s face softens, and before you can say any other stupid mumbles, she pulls you from the hip into her body. Her arms are warm, and yet oddly they soothe your prickly skin.

You melt into Alexia, you feel like shit but she makes you feel marginally better.

“Coffee, or juice?”

You stifle a giggle that falls from your lips.

“Juice, please.”

Alexia relaxes her arms, taking a step back.

“Can I get you any pain relief, or a new heat pack? Is your headache better?”

Alexia looks at you with so much genuine care that it’s hard to not feel embarrassed.

“Pain relief doesn’t sit well in my stomach on a good day. I save heat packs for when the cramps are really bad or else they don’t have the same effect. My headaches normally are at the end of the day as a result of tension build up during the day.”

Alexia looks as if she’s taking mental note of everything you’ve just told her, for later.

“How about some food, hmm?”

You want to say yes, because Alexia’s clearly gone to so much effort for you, but you know that if you eat this early and then train your stomach contents is going to end up on a pitch or somewhere inconvenient.

“My stomach won’t keep it if we train later, I’m better to eat afterwards.”

Alexia’s brow furrows once again.

“I called the doctor and Pere this morning, we’re both taking today off.”

Everything warm and good about the moment fades, and suddenly all you feel is confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

Alexia steps away from you and retreats into your kitchen, grabbing a glass for you and picking up the bottle of juice that she knows you prefer.

“Because I thought you were dying last night, and you can’t tell me that all of that has just disappeared this morning. You’re struggling and you don’t need to push through pain to prove that you are worthy or good enough. You’re self worth shouldn’t be dictated by you proving to yourself that you can work through a chronic disease. I’m sorry that I didn't notice earlier and that I wasn't there for you earlier but I'm here to advocate for you now.”

You want to tell Alexia that you don’t need an advocate, you can advocate just fine for yourself. But a part of you knows that she doesn’t want to hear it and that part of you is also the part that is crippling from the inside and simply doesn’t have the energy to argue with your girlfriend.

“I train just fine normally.”

Alexia can’t argue that, even though you spend the time in the gym, she’s never heard of anything out of the ordinary occurring.

“But you don’t have to. In fact when I talked to our doctor she told me that she’d been insisting on you being more cautious of your cycle and spending more time resting during it considering your history.”

You roll your eyes, taking the glass of juice Alexia offers you.

Alexia plates up a breakfast that could feed a family of four, but it makes you feel less bad for not eating any of it.

“It’s my body, I know my limits.”

You focus on your glass of juice and not the face Alexia makes at you.

“You know how to continuously meet and exceed your limits, but what about just leaving them and giving yourself some peace. I know nothing about what you are going through, I can only sympathise. But I know this must be incredibly hard and I know you definitely do not give yourself enough grace and definitely don’t care for your needs enough. I’m here for you to confide in, I’ve done my research, I’m prepared to help however you need.”

It’s endearing how clearly prepared Alexia has made herself.

“You’ve done your research, hmm?”

Alexia nods proudly.

“Lots of it. Like about how orgasms can help with cramps.”

She looks like she’s going to say more, but you splutter your juice straight back into your cup, causing her to stop.

Alexia’s always been more open with her sexuality then you are, it’s culturally more acceptable in Spain but she also grew up with it being slightly more normalised.

“Alexia.”

Her grin is broad, like she’s proud that she’s managed to embarrass you.

“It’s true! Although for some people endometriosis can cause pain whilst having sex, so if you’re one of those people then it may not work but if you want to try I’m happy to help, fingers, toys, everything but mouths is on the table.”

Your blush only gets more cemented.

“I’m okay for right now, the thought of any kind of intimacy makes my fallopian tubes ache.”

Alexia nods her head, you are certain that sometime in the future this topic will arise again. Alexia’s rabbit-like sex drive makes it hard to not involve sex in everything you do together.

“Can I ask what your symptoms normally look like?”

Alexia’s lip is caught between her teeth, it’s the first time she’s looked nervous this entire conversation.

“Of course. Normally for me, I get bad pelvic pain which never really goes away, sweats, fever sometimes, cramps everywhere, i bloat, i get quite nauseous and occasionally it can make me moody. Furthermore, it can cause me to have migraines, some joint pain, insomnia, there are other things but those are the main ones. Overall it just makes me drained, i’m more fatigued but I can’t sleep, it makes me feel pretty lifeless.”

Alexia nods, she listens to every single word with so much attention.

“I always assumed the scars on your stomach were from getting your appendix removed, but I’m assuming now it’s a laparoscopy?”

You’re impressed by the level of detail Alexia has gone to for you.

“I have had my appendix removed but also yes, I’ve had two laparoscopy’s and I’m putting off getting my third done.”

Alexia nods.

“Do they make it better?”

You bite your lip before nodding.

“It’s never perfect, but for a bit it definitely makes my symptoms better. I’m putting off getting my next one because the last time I did it put me out of action for two months and it took me a while to get back to where I was. My body is different, it changes you. Before you ask, I’ve tried birth control, I’ve tried IUD’s, I’ve tried other forms of contraception, they all made it impossible for me to play football.”

Alexia shakes her head.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that, it’s your decision what you do and don’t put in your body, and I’m sure you’re just making whatever decisions work best for you.”

It’s refreshing having somebody not question what you do and don’t do for yourself.

“That means a lot to me.”

Alexia puts down her cutlery, her food somehow disappearing into her stomach.

“It’s just what love is, and I’m here to love you for forever, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve put off crying, you’ve tried your very best, but it’s not possible anymore.

The tears fall freely, and before you know it Alexia has pulled you into her lap.

It hurts, everything hurts, and yet everything feels so much better knowing you’re in her arms.

“I’ve got you bebita, I’m here now, I’m here to help you work this all out.”

——————————————————————

whelp that’s done! thoughts, feedback and general opinions would be appreciated! i’m so happy to have made something for yall and it’s rushed and super unedited and definitely not my favorite work but i hope you enjoy it all the same 🫶

[zairaalbereo]

“Please don’t do this.”

So after binging the whole four seasons of Black Sails last month, I’m now on a more leisurely rewatch… or so I thought.

But god everything hits so much worse or better or harder knowing about Flint’s past and motivation now. And then this scene came up, and I’m just… fuuuuuck. Crying, screaming, throwing up. I’m not okay. This is devastating. (Did I mention I cope with art?)

On my first watch, Flint killing Gates truly shocked me. He would really kill his friend just because he wouldn’t go along with his plans? To not have to give up on the Urca? Sure, Gates is going against his command. It’s mutiny, but Gates seems to be trying, and he sounds so bloody reasonable. And more importantly, he’s been a loyal friend up until now. A fatherly friend (I want to throw up). And even now he’s… trying to protect Flint, right? (Fuck. Seriously. Feeling ill.)

But yeah, I was shocked. And as he whispered broken apologies to the friend he just murdered, I wondered… could I forgive him for this?

And now…omg now it’s like watching a completely different train wreck happening, and it all makes perfect, tragic, horrible sense. The way the whole scene mirrors James McGraw’s futile attempt to convince Hennessy of their Hail Mary plan to save Nassau. Every step. The urgency when things have already gone sideways, but James refuses to give up, because it can still work. People just have to listen. Let him explain. Have a little faith. Back then he trusted Hennessy, and now he still trusts Gates. He trusts them to understand, asking them to believe in him. He doesn’t see it coming. (How does he not see it coming this time?)

And then the moment the floor is ripped out from under him. And it’s all there, on Flint’s face, in the moment when Gates says “They know.” It’s not the mutiny. It’s the betrayal. The way Flint’s face falls, and for a moment he looks just like James McGraw in Hennessy’s office. The same devastation and disbelief when he asks “You told them?” And of course for him it is the same betrayal. It is the same fight, to prove Thomas right. To stand against those who took him and everything else away from James.

And Gates, that poor bastard, doesn’t even understand what sin he is committing. He doesn’t even see it as mutiny. He sees it as doing the right thing, containing a madman. (Omggg…) And then there is Flint, reliving the worst moments of his life. And that point it doesn’t feel like it’s about the Urca anymore. It’s an emotional massacre, to which Gates seems completely oblivious. When Flint asks if he will see him get hanged, only to be promised an opportunity to flee for him and ‘Mrs Barlow’, Gates thinks he is doing him a kindness. Like Hennessy probably thought he was doing him a kindness, saving him from the gallows. It’s all right. Flint just has to leave, vanish and never be heard of again. He should be grateful. And the way Flint’s eyes close briefly in disbelief that this is happening. Again. The way he pleads with Gates, just like he pleaded with Hennessy. So unlike Flint. But once more he is told that his actions are unforgivable. Simply too much. He’s not just rejected, but he is abandoned. He is cast out for who he is and his supposed sins. A monster that can’t be allowed to exist amongst the rest of them.

The whole scene is executed so brilliantly, the way he fluctuates between James’ almost innocent appeals to be understood and Flint’s anger at being denied. But he keeps trying until the last moment. And then, when he acts, it’s not a calculated move. It’s pure desperation, the only purpose to do something, to stop what is happening. Because James McGraw didn’t. But where James McGraw hesitated, where he maybe still hoped, still didn’t comprehend, and where he still thought he had something to lose… Flint doesn’t. And yet we can see it break him. We can see how it breaks another part of his soul. 

(And of course it will happen again. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up.)

[ataraxiaspainting]

The Floor is Breathing.

Yan Overhaul x F Reader. 

Synopsis: You feel like both the witness and the victim in an uncommitted crime.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, manipulation, stalking/non-consensual recording, mentions of binge eating, and some infantilization.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

You can swear that these white walls blink.

Something, somewhere here, has eyes that look you up and down – you feel its breath on the back of your neck when you fall asleep facing a wall, the only decorated wall you have ever seen in this facility, actually. 

You’re not crazy. You have to remind yourself day in and day out of that fact, but you’re not crazy; you know another living being is in here with you, watching attentively.

Overhaul – no, “Kai” is what he forces you to call him now, says that there are no cameras in your room, but your gut screams otherwise.

You asked if he was sure, once, two days or four days, or six days ago – it should still be recent as you did not feel as isolated as you do now – and he responded by saying if he really wanted to keep a closer eye on you, he would just become your new roommate.

You’re unsure as to if that was a threat. He seemed happy when those words came out of his masked mouth, so perhaps it was just some unfunny gest. He made those sometimes, especially when he tries to coax you into taking vitamins every mealtime. Those jokes were as dull as the light brown and white pills piled up in a little cup meant for dipping sauces. Perhaps it was repurposed or Kai had ordered some from somewhere or he has some restaurant under his control somewhere.

Somewhere so dirty and filled with sugar and oils and artificial coloring. You’d die for just a sniff of pizza being served at an all-you-can-eat buffet or deep-fried cakes being served at a pop-up carnival. If health inspectors didn’t approve of such spots, or at the very most give them a C rating, then Kai wouldn’t go within two blocks of them. Much less let you. You’d stuff yourself to the brim like it is your last meal and compared to the boiled chicken and rice and broccoli you were given daily, chips and cookies may as well be.

A call of your name makes reality come back faster than a slap to the face – and hurts just as much.

“I asked you something, sweetheart. What do you want to do today?” Kai asks.

He didn’t seem angry or irritated as he repeated himself. His voice was still soft and the way he taps his foot against the pastel pink heart carpet reflects that. Times like these almost make you wish you were deaf. The words feel rehearsed but also feel as though they are straight from the heart like the actor was passionate enough in reciting their lines or was grossly in love with the story of the show. 

“I don’t know,” Unlike Kai, you forget your script quite often – aside from that one saying.

“You don’t know?” He’s still smiling. You know it.

“No.” You murmur. He puts an elbow on the small white table, stabilizing his head with his gloved hand. “I don’t.”

“I have some ideas,” The feeling of dread makes your stomach drop. Or was it your heart? Lungs, perhaps? You don’t know how to breathe right now, after all.

“I… don’t know, Kai.”

“You said that already.”

For your sanity, you choose to look at your freshly remade bed instead of his eyes. The rabbit plush you were given on your third or so day here lays alone on top of your singular pillow. The bars surrounding the sides reminded you of a crib. You’re only allowed to put your legs over the railing when Kai comes to your room in the morning and you’re not allowed to get out by yourself; he grabs your hand to assist you.

“Do you want to know what my ideas are?”

You’re not allowed to say no to anything Kai suggests. It’s an unspoken rule, unlike the ones for your room. “Um… okay…”

“Well,” Kai begins, his other arm being laid out on the table. His palm is facing upwards and you know what that means.

Your hand moves towards his – you try your best not to flinch this time in response to his slight grip, but you fail.

Kai chooses not to notice it for now. Just a small treat for this morning’s hug.

“I was thinking we could go to my office. Just for a change of scenery.” His thumb moves back and forth across your knuckles. “We could bring your colored pencils or your book if you’d like. It’s still noon, so we have some time before your daily check-in.”

“Okay…”

*~*~*~*

You had opted for your book in the end, although you regret your choice now because two of the four walls in Kai’s office have windows, and just outside of them were uncrowded streets that lead up to small hills on either side. The hue of the grass was off – a dull brown – but considering it was about time for autumn to roll around, you didn’t judge. Not that you could, anyway.

Could you ask to go back and get your colored pencils? You attempt to dismiss the thought by imagining future possibilities. Kai seems to be working on his computer right now though, and the guards outside wouldn’t let you leave by yourself anyway.

To hell with it, you think. It’s fine. He won’t get mad. 

At least… you hope so.

You walk over slowly until you are nearly touching his left shoulder. “Can I please get my colored-”

It’s you, from different angles and at different times of day – even some videos of you before you were kidnapped. They are of you sleeping, of you eating, of you looking under your bed. They are of you putting on socks, of you microwaving dinner after a long workday, of you talking on the phone with friends for hours. They are long and short – you can see some of them even repeat. Oh fuck. Is there a camera in this room too, or-

Before you can continue analyzing, Kai slams his laptop shut.

“Go back to reading, sweetheart.” It’s an order – you know it from the way he does not blink and the way his arms cross. He didn’t want you to see his screen; that fact is as clear as a cloudless sky. “You can color another day, okay?”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 163 }

anomaly.

jinwoo sung x isekai’d!fem.reader

{ you think your days are uneventful | and no one ever thinks about you… }

you had no rhyme or reason, not even a mere explanation, as to how this was possible.

you found yourself in the fictional world of solo leveling; a world that you adored with all your heart.

back in the real world...

you recall spending hours of your days binge reading the chapters of the manwha on your phone, falling in love with the amazing art style and the action sequences. it was embarrassing for you to admit, but in the midst of you reading the comic, you ended up developing quite the crush on the main protagonist, sung jinwoo.

of course, you were well aware of how he already had a canon love interest, but a part of you truly didn't care. when your emotions became too much for you to handle, that was when you would constantly search for any inserts pertaining to him, drowning yourself in such wonderful daydreams while saving each and every story you came across within the safety of your phone.

and when solo leveling's mobile game was announced-

you were the first to sign up for it immediately. once the game had launched globally for you to enjoy, you quickly dove into the game while doing your best to care for jinwoo. sure, there were some hiccups along the way, and you accidentally made him 'die' on some occasions, but still, you allowed your love for jinwoo to push you forward.

you spent some of your money on purchasing better items and weapons for jinwoo, slowly leveling up jinwoo in a more safe and efficient manner. and while you were simply enjoying the game, the last you you remember was working on grinding up jinwoo's level before falling asleep within the comfort of your bed-

only to find yourself in an unknown bedroom within an unfamiliar apartment. a gasp escapes from your lips when you look down at your hands, realizing that they looked... more colorful and bright-

almost as if you had been drawn and colored in.

a sudden knock heard on your door breaks you out of your thoughts, trailing your eyes to see your mother opening the door for you, "morning sweetheart, it's time to get up and go to classes!"

you were shocked to see that it was actually your mother who greets you with a sweet smile on her face. she was dressed in soft clothes consisting of a sweater and jeans with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for you to get up.

"mom, i- where are we right now?"

she frowns upon hearing your question, "what do you mean? we're in seoul, your father got promoted as a hunter and was transferred to the korean hunter's association branch, remember?"

your mind was spinning. there was no way in hell this was real! your parents were both regular office workers. you had never once seen your dad with any combative abilities-

were you dreaming?

had your daydreams pertaining to solo leveling's world made you hallucinate this much?

as if sensing your confusion and discomfort, your mother goes inside your room and settles herself on your bed, reaching out a hand to you as she brushed back your hair. "honey, are you alright?"

you swallow thickly and tried to even out your breathing. "i-i'm fine! but uhm... just to double check... do you and i have any... abilities?"

your mother shakes her head and continues to gently brush back your hair. "no, we are normal civilians, but don't worry! your father will protect us..." she meets your gaze and asks in a warm and concerned manner, "did you wish to skip classes for the day? i'm sure your professors won't mind as much, since you are a university student."

you shake your head at the offer, actually feeling quite eager to explore the world of your beloved webcomic. "no mom, it's okay! i just had a strange dream... and was a little confused, that's all."

she gives you another bright smile before leaning in to press a kiss against your hair. "alright then, i'll make some breakfast for you, and you can head out to your classes afterwards."

she finally leaves you alone then, heading back out into the kitchen as you bolted out of bed to look at your reflection in the mirror. your features remained the same, yet now that you were 'drawn' into the art style of solo leveling, you knew that you were much prettier than usual.

gone were the acne scars and blemishes, and despite your figure remaining the same, you felt quite confident in it. as you touch at your face, admiring the bright quality of your eyes, you couldn't help but sigh to yourself.

"i may look better, but i still don't think i'm a match for cha hae-in."

despite how you could feel your heart pounding with excitement and anticipation at the thought of meeting sung jinwoo someday, you knew better than to get your hopes up. after all, he must have had his second awakening already and was simply doing raids and attending meetings and conferences throughout the world (as per the plot). you knew that his romance with cha hae-in would start to blossom soon, and you didn't wish to acknowledge or even be a witness to it.

in this world, even though i love it so much and would LOVE to be a badass hunter or a healer, i'm still just a civilian.

you continue admiring yourself in the mirror with an almost wistful expression. "maybe it's a blessing that i am a civilian and jinwoo is a hunter..."

that way, i don't have to meet him; i can save myself the heartache and forever remain out of his personal orbit.

you hear your mom calling out to you to come get ready and come to eat breakfast, breaking you out of your reveries as you walked out of your bedroom with a newfound eagerness.

{ ... }

[ ANOMALY DETECTED. ]

jinwoo was simply settled within his office, looking over some reports when the system showed him a new notification. he frowns at the translucent screen, hands reaching up to tap at it.

[ ANOMALY DETECTED. WOULD YOU LIKE TO VIEW IT?

YES / NO ? ]

he could feel his eyes flash purple in response, filled to the brim with concern at the thought of a brand new threat that appeared in his world.

"yes." was his simple answer, eyes becoming glued to the screen as he waited for what the system would show him-

only to feel a bit dumbfounded upon seeing a young woman walking out of her apartment. she was dressed casually with a bag slung over her shoulder, clearly a student as she made her way to the station.

"system, what makes this woman an anomaly?" he asks it casually, waiting for yet another reply. within seconds, a new screen was seen.

[ DIFFERENT UNIVERSE. ]

this message made jinwoo's eyes go wide, his anger quickly being replaced by curiosity. "and how are you certain she's from a different universe?"

[ SHE IS AWARE THAT SHE COMES FROM A DIFFERENT UNIVERSE. SHE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO IS AWARE. SHE IS AN ANOMALY. ]

jinwoo was intrigued now, hands remaining folded against his desk as his glowing, purple eyes continue to watch the woman go on with her day.

interesting... very interesting indeed.

{ ... }

even though you were simply making your way to class, you were honestly having so much fun. even though you technically haven't been out exploring seoul before, it was like you were running on autopilot, with your legs having no issue taking you to the university you attended.

there was a strange sense of familiarity that washes over you, and it almost felt like you were a character that was meant to be within solo leveling's world-

almost.

upon arriving at your university, you greet the two girls that you assumed were meant to be your friends, joining them before and after classes as you managed to enjoy lunch with them. during your classes, you were pleasantly surprised to find that you could understand the textbooks and the professor's written notes as you copied them diligently within your own notebook.

with your classes completed later that afternoon, you decided to spend some time exploring the city, basking in the beauty of the late afternoon while enjoying the sunset. as you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk while admiring the warmth of the setting sun, your phone began to ring with an incoming call from your mother.

picking it up on the second ring, you answer, "hello? hey mom, what's up?"

"you're finished for the day, right? do you mind coming home so that you can help me prepare dinner?"

"of course. i'll see you soon. i love you, mom!"

you hear her laughter on the other end. "i love you, too. stay safe, and come home soon!"

after hanging up the call, you walk with your head held high and a bounce in your step.

even knowing the dangers that were to come-

(the monarch's invasion settled within the heart of this city)-

you held no anxiety or fear because jinwoo would ultimately take care of the war, protecting everyone and everything that lived on this earth while taking on the burden all on his own.

{ ... }

jinwoo had been watching the young woman for quite a few weeks now, and he was fascinated by her carefree and happy nature.

had those who came from a different universe always remained this happy?

even when she was simply doing mundane things like...

attending classes,

helping her mother cook,

eating dinner with her parents the moment her father came home,

and simply studying-

jinwoo couldn't look away.

it was like her finding joy with the simple things in life was like a beacon of light to him. she had an inner beauty that called out to jinwoo, and he found himself desperate to know more about her.

i should meet her soon... and place a shadow soldier on her.

he swipes away at the system's screen the moment he sees her get into bed. knowing that she had class the next day, jinwoo decides to make some time to meet her once and for all.

{ ... }

"oh my god, is that who i think it is?!" one of your friends was heard crying out to you, hanging on to your arm in a tight manner as she stops you from crossing the gate.

"hm? what are you talking about?" you ask with a yawn.

"it's him! the latest s-rank hunter, sung jinwoo!" your other friend was practically freaking out, too, eyes going wide as a dreamy expression crosses her features.

of course, how could you forget? in this world, powerful hunters were viewed and treated like celebrities. as you strained to look toward the gates, you saw that it was indeed jinwoo settled near the gates. he was dressed in his usual coat and suit with what looked like a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

strange, does cha hae-in attend this university, too?

you thought to yourself, even though you were 100% certain that she only worked as a hunter-

but why else would jinwoo be here with a bouquet of flowers?

"you guys go ahead and meet him." you slowly back away from your friends, adjusting your bag as you looked toward the other gate of your university, "i just know that he is going to have a whole group of fans flocking to him, and i don't want to be late. i made plans with my parents." you lie through your teeth before making a dash away from the gate, not even bothering to reply to your friend's protests.

you were determined to never meet with jinwoo-

after all, you didn't want to even fall any more in love with him than you already were-

especially when knowing that he had always belonged to someone else.

however, in the midst of you running away, you were unaware of a pair of glowing, purple eyes that followed your every movement.

{ ... }

she's avoiding me...

jinwoo finds himself back home, barely touching the dinner his mother had prepared for him. his chopsticks kept picking at the rice, eating it a single grain at a time while deep in thought.

"oppa, if you keep going at that pace, you'll be stuck here forever." jinah teases him between bites of her own food, "seriously, what's up with you?"

not even jinah's teasing could break him out of his intrusive thoughts, earning a concerned look from his mother. "jinah, could you give me a moment to talk to your brother?"

she rolls her eyes playfully, but ultimately listens to her, standing from her seat with her bowl of rice and side dishes in hand, giving them some privacy. unable to find his appetite, jinwoo puts down his bowl and pushes it away from him. feeling her touch as she reaches across the table toward him, his chin was suddenly being held by his mother, her own dark eyes filled with concern for him.

"what's wrong, my love?"

he swallows thickly, trying to hide how he was feeling. "nothing is wrong..."

because she was his mother, he should have known better than to lie. "you're heartbroken."

jinwoo stiffens completely when he hears her words. "n-not exactly when she... ah... she doesn't know that i exist. or rather... she doesn't even wish to acknowledge me."

his mother remains silent for a few beats before letting out a soft laughter. "well, perhaps the young lady is a bit intimidated by you, jinwoo."

he could feel his eyes going wide upon hearing her words, feeling shy when she kept on laughing, "in fact, you remind me of your father. when i first met him, i was filled with such joy and love at the mere sight of him. yet... because i had never felt such a powerful sense of love before, i tended to shy away from him a bit."

his mother continues to speak with her eyes closed, "but despite my distance, your father was persistent. he never once gave up on me, always sending me sweet gifts and taking me out on fun little dates. it was through his kindness alone that he had captured my heart completely, getting rid of my doubts since i knew that he was the one for me."

jinwoo smiled at his mother, allowing her to bask in her memories with a hint of sadness felt within his heart.

"so, what are you suggesting that i do then?"

his mother finally opens her eyes before giving him a wide grin, "if she means that much to you, then you need to capture her heart... turn whatever anxieties she has for you into something softer and warmer... like love. you are your father's son, and i know that you not only inherited his appearance, but his tenacity as well..."

he could feel his heart grow lighter in response to her words, now being filled with a newfound courage. letting out a light chuckle when he stands from his seat, coming towards his mother so that he could press a kiss against her hair.

"thanks mom... for the advice. i know exactly what i need to do now."

{ ... }

ever since you first caught sight of jinwoo lingering outside of your university, you had been extra cautious of your surroundings. sure, you were well aware that he had the power to keep track of you through inserting his soldiers within your shadow-

but if you were nowhere near his periphery, then he could not insert them into your shadow, therefore, making it unable for him to watch you fully.

so in your head, there was no way jinwoo could possibly keep track of you.

about a month had passed since you and your friends saw jinwoo, and ever since then, you didn't see him (thank the rulers above). since you were much more relaxed right now, completely convinced that jinwoo being close to your campus was a mere coincidence. and who knows? maybe that was the chosen meeting place he and hae-in had agreed on.

wishing to enjoy your saturday, you finish eating breakfast with your parents before telling them about your plans of enjoying the city. of course, they let you do as you pleased while making you promise them to be home by 9pm at the latest. sealing your promise with them, you grab your bag that held your phone and wallet before leaving your apartment.

the weather was so nice, and you could feel the gentle wind coursing through your hair, making you let out a happy sigh. you stop walking and take a moment to enjoy the weather. "i knew it was a good idea to come out of the house."

"about time."

you freeze upon hearing a deep chuckle settled a few feet away from you, making your eyes go wide as you saw what appeared to be shadowy wisps forming before you.

you were left gaping when jinwoo reveals himself from the shadows, giving you a smug expression.

"did you think you could hide from me forever?" amusement was seen shining within his grey eyes, appearing as bright as silver with the way the sun was seen against them. you were caught off guard, whispering to him in a shocked manner, "you wasted your shadow exchange for this?"

jinwoo's eyes were tilted upwards in question, "oh, so you know a lot about me then?"

he ignores your flustered expression, coming closer to you as he held your chin tightly with one of his hands. he forces you to look at him, a look of annoyance with a hint of anger shimmering within his now glowing, purple eyes.

"why have you been avoiding me?"

his question comes out as strained, and you had no clear answer to give him without spilling your own secrets.

because i'm not from this world?

because i'm half in love with you due to the fact that you're my comfort character?

because i don't want to see you falling for cha hae-in and feel hurt and envious at the same time?

yet none of those words fall from your parted lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from meeting his gaze with a pout. seeing your expression, he sighs and immediately lets go of your chin. running a hand through his hair, he appears disappointed in himself when he meets your gaze again.

"i'm sorry, i was supposed to treat you gently..." jinwoo apologizes to you before taking a hold of your hand. "come on, let me take you out on a proper date."

by now, your mind was spinning, sputtering out weak protests as you could feel the heat against your cheeks. were you dreaming again? was this actually happening?

did your fantasies just come to life?

still caught in a daze, you and jinwoo had been walking for quite some time when he finally stopped at what looked like an amusement park. you look behind you to double check yourself, taking note that the skies were still perfect and sunny-

not at all swallowed up by a looming, purple gate.

a knowing smile crosses your features when jinwoo purchases tickets for you and him to go into the park, making you bask in the sweet scents of cakes, candies, with a hint of buttery popcorn. of course, thanks to his status as an s-rank hunter, he was allowed entry with you within mere minutes.

as you both walk into the amusement park, the crowd of people that once lingered quickly parted ways, their excited whispers could be heard while jinwoo kept your hand held tightly within his.

"no way, it's hunter sung jinwoo!"

"who's that with him?"

"i don't believe she's a hunter..."

"hunter sung with a regular civilian? wow, that's unheard of."

you felt your anxieties beginning to mount when jinwoo suddenly gave your hand a squeeze.

"just ignore them and don't even worry about it." jinwoo's smile manages to captivate you, and you had to look away from him (unless you wished for your heart to burst from the confines of your chest!)

why didn't you go with hae-in instead, like you were supposed to?

you didn't allow your jealousy to ruin this seemingly perfect moment with him, deciding to ask instead, "why did you want to go here with me?"

jinwoo shrugs while looking straight ahead. "i've always wanted to try and go here once... while taking a chance to get to know you better."

you blink up at him, detecting what he was hinting in his voice.

had he been watching you after all?

did he know that you weren't meant to be here-

is that why he held an interest in you?

because you weren't normal-

because you were an anomaly?

"do you want to get on that ride first?" jinwoo breaks through your thoughts, making you look up to see one of the rollercoasters. with a smile, you knew that you would enjoy each and every ride more so than cha hae-in ever could since you were still a mere civilian. such cheap thrills were still very much entertaining to you.

"yes! if it's at all possible, i'd like to ride everything at least once!" you tell him with a wide smile, squeezing his hand in response when he smiles down at you.

"sure, let's go on every ride, then."

so you spent the next several hours getting on each and every ride. while jinwoo maintained a blank expression, you raised your arms up and continued to yell with joy and happiness. each ride filled you with an exhilaration you hadn't felt in a long time. 

and with jinwoo follwing you every step of the way, you only felt your happiness increase.

after tiring yourself out with all the rides, jinwoo buys you lunch consisting of a cheeseburger meal. you look over at him, seeing him sipping at his soda while not even eating. between bites of your burger, you asked him why he didn't get anything to eat.

in response to your question, jinwoo simply rests his cheek against the palm of his hand. "i'm not hungry... because seeing your happiness and smile is enough to fill me."

your eyes go wide, not expecting jinwoo to say such a thing to you. as your heart began to race in response, you saw jinwoo looking away from you with a blush and a grin. he remains quiet, allowing you to finish your meal when he suddenly asks, "i know you're probably tired from all those rides, but... do you think you can handle one last ride with me?"

your breathing becomes labored then, heart already beginning to skip beats when you realized what was going to happen next...

{ ... }

your screams could be heard as you practically cling to jinwoo while riding on kaisel's back. as the shadow monarch kept laughing at your terrified screams, you were doing all that you could to keep from puking up your lunch!

the wyvern's wings seemed to cut through the skies, picking up speed at jinwoo's commands as you held on to him in an even tighter manner. after what felt like an eternity, kaisel began to slow down its flight, landing in the midst of a forested area while jinwoo carried you down its back.

jinwoo lands against the plush grass with you still in his embrace, still giving you an innocent smile while admiring your scowling face.

he calls out your name in between his laughter, "are you alright?"

you shake your head and fought back the dizziness coupled along with the contents of your food felt swirling in your stomach. "n-no... that was practically maniacal of you, sung jinwoo."

jinwoo's laughter becomes louder now, still keeping you in his arms when he tells you with a hint of arrogance. "consider this as payback for purposely ignoring me for so long."

his words only makes the nausea get worse, filling you with anxiety when he continues to walk even deeper into the forest, not stopping until he reached a clearing that you were all too familiar with.

your heart clenched with pain at the memory of hae-in with jinwoo at this exact location, watching as a shooting star was seen decorating the night sky.

yet, with you still in his embrace, the scene was a little different.

jinwoo settles himself against the grass, placing you on his lap with his arms wrapped around you. he presses your back against his chest with a hum, never once looking away from the skies while keeping you close to him.

your heart was still racing painfully, but you struggled to find the right words to even say to him. and as you were stewing in your thoughts, you knew you had to tell him the truth.

"do you realize that i am not originally part of your universe?"

jinwoo doesn't look away from the skies, only letting out another hum as his grin seemed to widen in response to your question. "of course i know... but don't worry. it doesn't matter to me where you're from... as long as you agree to be mine from now on."

your mouth turns dry at his answer, making you turn around to face him, "w-what? how can it not matter to you? i...i tried so hard not to get in the way of your life, b-because you deserved to be happy with cha hae-in..."

he meets your gaze then, eyes glowing purple once more, "you thought that was best for me?"

your throat clenches painfully and you look away from him, only managing a nod in response.

"...is that why you were so dead set on avoiding me?"

you shut your eyes and let out a shaky "yes, i didn't want to fall even more in love with you... knowing that you belonged to her originally."

"don't be ridiculous... i am my own person and can very much choose who i wish to be with." jinwoo reassures you in between bouts of his laughter, tightening his hold on you before continuing, "i've said it before, and i'll say it again, it doesn't matter to me where you came from."

he shifts the way he held you just then, turning you around so that you were now fully facing him, with your hands against his shoulders. your face was getting hotter by the minute, and from the way jinwoo was holding you in place, you couldn't even look away from him.

"when the system alerted me to your presence, i thought that you were a threat... but the more i observed you, i came to admire you..."

shutting his eyes, you felt jinwoo gently delving his fingers into your hair before continuing, "i was honestly so mesmerized by your presence... and i kept thinking to myself... 'how are you able to be so happy all the time? how are you so filled with love for your family and friends? why did you exude so much light...?'"

jinwoo opens his eyes once more, now framing at your face with his two hands, "you being in my universe was the best thing that ever happened to me... and you being here makes me happy, do you understand?"

"jinwoo..."

your whisper of his name was all you could manage when he suddenly tightens his arms around you, bringing your head down closer to his when he perfectly slots his lips with yours, kissing you with a passion you had never once felt before as you basked in this moment with him...

a.n. - ahhhh i'm so happy at how this came out! i've wanted to do a story like this for a while, and i hope that you readers have enjoyed it as well 🥹

edit: i'm trying to make this appear in the tags, so i'm sorry if this is a double post to you! 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[pencil-n-pen]

Is it possible for you to expand on your overworked series w Leon? I actually loved it sm

first request !! of course lovely, hope you like it! <3

masterlist | first part | previous part

NOT SO MESSY

✮‧₊ ᵎ��� 🧸 ⋅ ˚✮

college student! leon x college student, eldest daughter! reader

summary: things get difficult- they pile up, and the harder things get, the further you start to drift. Luckily, Leon isn’t pushed away so easily.

cw: realistic depictions of depression, reader is overwhelmed with everything, abandonment issues if you squint (not that hard tbh) leon being a very good boyfriend :)

a/n: been having a bit of a rough time recently and when this request came in i knew what i had to do

hey!! so this fic deals with realities of depressive episodes and how the room(s) we live in reflect that. i have had depression most of my life, so I’m drawing on personal experience. That being said, if you are bothered by the mentions of “gross” depressive behavior in this fic, i.e not showering, dirty plates/moldy coffee in the bedroom, or not brushing teeth, and plan on leaving a comment about how “depression is just an excuse to be gross” just don’t. scroll on past, this fic isn’t for you :)

✮⋆˙₊⋅ ୨୧ ᝰ.ᐟ

You’re hiding from Leon.

Not a good idea in the long run, because one, he always manages to find you —always— but two, when he does inevitably sniff you out, he’ll be upset for two reasons— because you’d let things get bad and because you’re hiding it.

Your room is a disaster. It’s always the first sign. Well, the first sign is usually the general unwillingness to do anything but get out of bed, sleep, or binge watch tv, but still. Half-empty water bottles litter every available surface, accompanied by papers —both unimportant and important— and dirty dishes. You don’t even want to look at the coffee cups.

It’s disgusting. You know it is. Actually, truly disgusting. There’s mold on some of the plates for Christ’s sake. And all you have to do is stop whining and just do it. But you can’t.

You can’t.

Because letting everything else get this bad is the only way you’ve managed to keep your grades intact during this episode. Something had to give— you didn’t have the energy to give to anymore. So your room fell into complete and utter disarray and you haven’t been eating well like Leon wants and you don’t even want to talk about your shower routine.

It’s bad. Everything is bad. You hate going home to your dirty, gross room, and you’re tired of being too tired to do nothing but homework, and you’re afraid of how upset Leon is going to be when he finds out.

And you’re so frustrated. Because you’re not that girl— you can’t be the girl with the dirty, messy room and the unkempt hair and the bags under her eyes who doesn’t leave the house. You can’t— you’re more than that. You’re you. You’re that girl. The girl. Beauty and brains. You just don’t know how you let it get this bad.

And you don’t know how to climb your way out.

—

Leon hasn’t been by in… awhile.

This of course, is not his fault. Over the course of this episode, as things got worse and worse, you got better and better at keeping him away.

At first, you were ashamed. You were doing so good for awhile, before everything got bad again. And then, you started worrying— you’re pushing him away, hiding everything from him, and once he realizes, he’s not going to be happy. You’re scared of losing him because you can’t keep it together.

You don’t dare to admit it outside the safety and comfort of your own mind, but you’ve really come to rely on Leon. He’s always there for comfort when you need want it. Even when you don’t know. He knows. He always does.

A hand on your thigh, squeezing to distract you from picking on your hangnails during class. A large, warm arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him. That deep rumble in his chest when he’s telling you something, his voice low and sliding around in your brain, making all your thoughts stick together.

And you’re not allowed to miss him. You pushed him away. You told him he was distracting you. You told him you didn’t want him at the apartment.

You’re not allowed to miss him. But that doesn’t stop you from doing it anyway.

You’re sitting on your bed, staring at the slivers of floor you can see and wishing it would all go away so you’d stop feeling so bad. You hate staring at the mess, hate seeing it— but you can’t bring yourself to look away. The shirt you’re wearing probably smells —you haven’t kept up on your laundry so you’ve been cycling through the same three shirts for around the house wear— and you can practically feel the tangles you’re getting in your hair from not washing it. You haven’t showered in awhile either. Your skin feels grimy.

Your gross. This is gross.

A loud knock sounds on your door and you snap your head up, frozen.

Only one person knocks like that on your door.

“Shit— uh, coming!”

You pick your way across the floor, stumbling over clothes and hangers and seriously, how many disposable water bottles can one person drink?

You finally reach the door and crack it open the tiniest sliver.

Leon’s staring back at you, his expression unreadable.

That’s not good. You can usually read them, nowadays.

Your eyes catch what he’s wearing- his uni sweatshirt and one of his favorite pairs of old, worn flannel pajama pants.

That’s not good either. If he’s wearing his comfortable clothes, it means he’s not leaving for awhile.

You stare at him through the crack in the door for a little while, unable to break the silence. He shifts his stance, rocking back onto his heels and putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You don’t respond. You begin to chew anxiously on your lip, hands going white-knuckled on the door-frame.

“Princess,” He says, and you can’t tell if his voice sounds fondly annoyed or just annoyed when he says it, “You wanna tell me what’s been going on?”

You shake your head.

“Oh? Not talking today?” He relaxes his stance a bit, “Is the reason you’ve been avoiding me the same reason you won’t let me in your room?”

You resolve begins to crack. It always does that when he’s right in front of you, every part of you longing to slot yourself into place next to him, safe and protected.

You stamp down the urge.

“I’m just busy right now Leon. I’m not avoiding you.”

“Sweetheart, I stopped believing that the second you started wearing the same sweatshirt for a week straight. You’re not well.”

“So? What does that matter to you?”

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

It becomes a competition then- who’s gonna look away first. Leon’s staring into your eyes, clearly cataloguing your face, that unreadable expression still in place. You meet his gaze right back, wondering how long it will take to get him to break.

He doesn’t. He must find whatever it was he was looking for in your face though, because he smirks, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“You’re not going to outlast me, princess.”

You sag, frustrated. “I just…”

You suck in a breath, rushing all the words out at once.

“I’m ashamed and I don’t want you to see it.”

He blinks. “Your room?”

You nod. “It’s… really bad. I let it get really bad.”

“No,” He starts slowly, taking a step towards the door. “You don’t let things happen, baby. Sometimes we can’t help how bad things get.”

“But I—“

“No but’s. You’re overwhelmed. Of course some stuff is gonna fall through the cracks.”

You scrub a hand over your face and immediately regret it, the feeling of your unwashed skin grating on your already frayed nerves. “It’s gross. I haven’t showered and there’s mold in the coffee cups—“

“Don’t care.”

“But you should. It’s disgusting, Leon. I’m—“

“Hey now,” He says, voice hardening. “Don’t finish that sentence. Now, answer one question for me: do you want to keep living in your room like this?”

“No! But I can’t—“

He shrugs. “Then I’ll help you clean it.”

He says it so easily. Like it’s not a gross, hard task that he shouldn’t have to do.

You shake your head. “You don’t have to, really—“

“I want to.”

The words go straight to your chest. Warmth begins to pool and spread where they struck, tendrils curling around your fingers and throat.

“Why?” The word is lodged in your throat- you barely manage to get it out.

“Because you’re my girl,” He says, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his warm ones brushing your chapped in a kiss so gentle you almost wouldn’t feel it, if not for the press and heat of his face. “And when my girl needs —or wants— something, she gets it. Especially when it comes to help. Okay?”

Tears begin to well unbidden in your eyes. “Okay.”

You open the door wider, stepping back and letting him see into your room. It all feels raw— you’re like an open, exposed nerve. Letting him see your room is a bit like cracking your chest open and letting him see all the messy, bloody, ugly bits that keep you going.

He steps into the room. Pauses. Looks around. Looks at you.

“You wanna do this?”

You nod, biting your lip and hunching in on yourself as he takes in the mess.

“Baby,” He says slowly, stepping into your space, sliding his hands across your waist, “What do you need from me?”

You press your face into his shoulder, breathing in deeply.

“Come on. Use your words.”

“Can you just—“ You step back, “Can you please just… sit? On the bed? I just, I just need—“

He strokes a hand over your cheekbone. “You need me to sit on your bed and tell you you’re doing good?”

You can’t help the whine that builds in your throat. Not really.

“Mmm. My poor baby.” He presses a light kiss to your forehead then walks away, sitting and immediately making himself comfortable on the sliver of open space on your bed.

He reaches for your bedside table, opening a drawer and pulling out the headphones he knows you keep there.

(You keep them there because he bought them for you. Your old headphones were falling apart but did the job just fine —most of the time— but Leon wouldn’t stand for it. The next day, you’d opened your door to a brand new, incredibly expensive pair of headphones you’d brought up wanting maybe once. So when you’re not using them for studying or walking to and from classes on campus, they live there. Safe.)

“You know listening to music makes you more productive,” He says, extending them out to you, “Leave one side off, so you can hear me.”

You take the headphones, sliding them on and powering them up- though not without leaving one ear uncovered. You put on one of your more upbeat playlists- something to keep you moving.

It’s slow going at first. Since the trash and dishes are what makes the room feel the grossest, you start with them first. Wrangling the dirty coffee cups and water bottles and other various forms of trash into the trash bag is an arduous promise, and more than once you have to tell Leon he might want to cover his nose.

He remains where he is, scrolling idly on his phone and occasionally putting it down just to watch you clean. After a few moments of staring, he’ll pipe up with a comment:

“Keep it up, princess.”

“You can do it.”

“I’ll be right here if you need a anything.”

The last one is by far the most tempting offer.

Once you’ve finished getting all the trash and dishes out —the room not only feels and smells one hundred times better already— you move on to the bigger part of the project: the clothes. They’re everywhere. And they probably all need to be washed, but doing that many loads of laundry is—

“I’ll take them to the washing machine if you sort them.”

You jolt, not noticing him standing next to you.

“You don’t—“

“Start with that pile over there. It’s the biggest. Everything else will feel easy once you finish that part.”

While you (begrudgingly) begin tackling the pile, he cues up a t.v show on your laptop, then hooks it up to your monitor so it plays on a bigger screen. Then he leaves the room, giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walks by you.

(He’d given you the monitor too. He’d told you that he upgraded and didn’t need his old one anymore, but the monitor was in suspiciously good condition. But you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, no matter how guilty the amount of money he spends on you makes you feel.)

You slip your headphones off, putting them back in the drawer and use the ambience of the show you’ve seen ten-thousand times and the now available space on the bed to sort clothes in a relatively timely fashion.

You’re starting to slow down a little, a headache beginning to form behind your eyes right when a delicious smell hits your nose and the door opening signals Leon’s return.

“I bring sustenance for the princess.”

He holds two plates of grilled ham-and-cheese sandwiches. One with ketchup, and one without.

You snatch the plate with ketchup and devour the sandwich in seconds, making a grabby motion for the water bottle tucked under his arm.

He chuckles, but obliges, sitting down at your desk to tuck into his own sandwich. You go back to your folding, headache miraculously waning and energy renewed. Go figure. After a few minutes, Leon disappears with the plates and then reappears with an empty laundry basket.

You wordlessly point to a pile, engrossed in the show he put on as “background noise”, folding and sorting clothes as you go.

And so bit by bit, your room gets cleaner, and cleaner, until Leon’s taken the last of the loads down to the washing machine and you’re making your bed and you’ve got an entire season of the show under your belt.

It’s long been dark outside, and you’re making your bed now, fluffing your pillows and laying your plushies in their respective spots.

Leon comes up behind you, draping his body over your back, hands over your shoulders and chin resting on your head.

“Looks good in here, princess. I think you deserve a little reward.”

You hum, leaning back into him. “For what? Needing help to do a basic thing?”

“For being vulnerable,” He drops his head to your shoulder, burying your face into the crook of your neck, “So proud of you, baby. You were so brave.”

Your stomach is doing backflips. “You don’t have to baby me.”

“M’ not babying you. You were brave. And I am proud of you.”

He wants to curl up in bed with you and keep watching t.v, but you insist on showering first. You’re gross and you just washed your sheets.

Feeling happy, you grab one of your nicer, cuter pairs of underwear, taking your time to lather your good smelling body-wash and enjoying the warm spray. Your enjoy the shower once you’re in it. It’s just getting in that’s hard.

When you get out of the shower, you notice that the oversized shirt you were going to wear was replaced with Leon’s sweatshirt. The one he spent all day in.

You smile to yourself, throwing the clothes on and rushing out to cuddle up in bed with Leon. The second you touch the bed he’s dragging you to him, face finding the free inch of space between your neck and the top of your sternum. He takes a deep breath, warm air fanning over the soft skin there.

“You smell so fucking good.”

“Mm,” You hum, already growing sleepy in his hold, “Your sweatshirt smells like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s really good. And comfortable. I’m sleepy.”

He chuckles, pulling the blankets up over the both of you and planting a soft kiss to your forhead.

“Go to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning.”

You fall asleep surrounded by warmth and safety. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

ˑ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Bond

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 7,340

Warnings - inaccurate police stuff, injuries, blood, knives, hospitals, swearing, mentions of being harassed/made uncomfortable

Summary - while on patrol, Lucy and Tim help an injured teen and while tracking down her attacker, Tim finds out he has a protective, paternal side

Sequel - 'A Safe Home'

A/N - hey y'all! I know it's been a hot while since I wrote anything and I'm so truly sorry for that. but in binging The Rookie, I found myself wanting to write something for Tim Bradford and so this came to light and so I'm posting it as a test (a Tim Test if you will) to kinda gauge how y'all feel about me writing for a new fandom (again still not finished the show so please don't spoil). As per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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The sun was shining in Los Angeles as Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen drove around on patrol, eyes ever so often flicking around in search of illegal activity.

“Come on, you’re seriously not going to let me put the AC on? It’s so hot.” Lucy complains, fighting the urge to stick her head out of the window to get some relief from the sweltering heat inside the shop.

“You know the rules, Boot,” Tim says, sparing Lucy a brief side eye before focusing back on the road. Lucy lets out a slight huff, mentally reminding herself of how much longer she has to obey Tim’s rules before she becomes a P2. Before Lucy could open her mouth to reply in a last-ditch effort to convince Tim to put the AC on, a woman runs out of the nearby park, arms waving wildly and calling out towards the police cruiser.

“We need help!” At the woman’s yells, Tim pulls over, both him and Lucy getting out of the shop as soon as the engine has been turned off before hurrying over to the woman.

“What’s the problem?” Tim asks, a neutral and level tone to his voice to not cause any more panic. In response, the woman begins leading Tim and Lucy into the park, going on a tangent about how she’d been on her morning jog when she stumbled across something she thought was suspicious at first. One glance at Tim and Lucy could tell his patience was wearing thin with the woman skirting around the issue.

“Ma’am, what did you find?” Lucy asks, already bracing herself for what she might find.

“I found this teenage girl curled up on the bench. I thought she was a junkie or homeless so I went to try and move her or something but… she’s bleeding.” The woman says, pointing out the teenage girl curled up on the bench, hand clamped on her side.

“Chen, radio for help.” Tim orders, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on as he approaches the bench, kneeling alongside it while he assesses the damage as best he can.

“Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tim tries, looking from the wound to your face, trying to see how responsive you are. He could tell your breathing was laboured and shallow so all he wanted to do now was treat the wound as best he could and keep you conscious. As Tim gently moves your hand away from your injury, you let out a slight moan of pain, attempting to curl further into yourself.

“I know. I’m sorry. I need to try and slow the bleeding.” Tim apologises softly, hand clamping down on your wound, bunching up the material of your shirt to act as a barrier to prevent any further blood loss. When you groaned in pain once more and blindly swatted at his hand, Tim used his teeth to pull the glove off his spare hand, dropping it on the floor and grabbing your flailing hand in his.

“Okay kid, just squeeze my hand when it hurts. Sound good?” Tim says, getting your response, squeezing his hand tightly, whimpering quietly. Since his plan to try and get you to talk to him wasn't working, though he could only blame the blood loss, he needed to do what he could to ensure you stayed conscious.

“Ambulance is on its way, ETA two minutes,” Lucy says, approaching Tim and watching as he tends to your wound.

“Can you make sure no one crowds around? Paramedics will need quick and easy access and it won’t be easy with these guys watching like it’s a damn circus. But if there is anyone who might know what happened, get a statement.” Tim mutters, aware of the forming crowd, phones in hand as they document the event like they were at a concert. With a nod, Lucy steps back and approaches the crowd, letting them know that the situation is being handled and that they need to get back to their own business.

After a couple of minutes, the ambulance pulls up, and the paramedics soon appear alongside Tim.

“She’s been bleeding since we found her and even before that. From the looks of things, it might be some kind of stab wound. She’s been virtually unresponsive besides squeezing my hand and making a few sounds. She’s definitely out of it because of the blood loss so she needs urgent attention.” Tim says, doing his best to explain the situation with the limited knowledge he had.

“Okay, we’ve got it from here.” One of the paramedics says, easing himself down alongside Tim to assess the damage. Tim carefully moved his hand away from the wound to let the paramedic get to work. As Tim moves to gently release your hand he feels you squeeze tighter as the paramedic begins to place a bandage over your wound to prevent further blood loss until you make it to the hospital.

“I’ve got to let go kid. The paramedics need to do their job.” Tim whispers, a softness to his tone that not many get to hear. At his words, your grip loosened enough for Tim to gently extract his hand before he stepped back, allowing the paramedics to get on with their job while he crossed to Lucy.

“Did anyone see anything?” Tim asks, standing in front of Lucy as he folds his arms and glances around.

“Nothing concrete. Most people around only saw her after she collapsed.” Lucy says defeatedly, closing her notebook and tucking her pen away.

“We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital. Stick around until the kid’s in the clear and see if we can get a statement.” Tim says with a nod, already beginning to turn around and head back in the direction of their shop with Lucy hot on his heels, radioing control to let them know what they’re going to be doing. Once they get in the vehicle, Tim begins the drive to the hospital fighting the urge to speed the entire way.

To Lucy, it felt like they had gotten to the hospital in record time and she was nearly bursting at the seams to make a light joke about it to Tim but she also didn’t feel like being on the end of a death glare or being made to walk outside the shop while Tim drives. The two enter the hospital and after Tim questions a nurse about the teen girl just brought in, they’re given directions to the ward you’d be in and that you are currently being prepped for minor surgery to control any internal bleeding and Lucy didn’t miss the flash of worry that covered Tim’s face at the mere mention of surgery. The two made their way to where they had been directed and once they reached the waiting room, Lucy took a seat while Tim played the pacing game. Lucy could’ve sworn that Tim pestered the nurses almost a hundred times a minute about any updates regarding your surgery.

“Tim, they’ll let us know when we’re able to try and get a statement from her,” Lucy says, glancing up at Tim as he strides past her once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know that. I’m just… worried. Seeing a kid hurt is never easy. I just want to find out who did this to her so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tim says with a sigh, head bowing slightly before glancing over at Lucy who softens a little at her TO’s words. She knew he wasn’t always the hard-ass he presented himself to be in the station, but seeing him so worried about a teenager’s wellbeing was like seeing a whole new side to him. Before Lucy could speak once more, a nurse approached the two, making Lucy get up from her seat.

“Thank you for your patience officers. The surgery has gone smoothly and we’re transferring her to a room now. There will be a bit more of a wait until she comes around before a doctor will assess whether she’s in a good enough condition to be questioned. You’re free to continue your patrol if you wish and we can contact you when she’s ready.” The nurse says, addressing both Lucy and Tim who glance at each other after the nurse has finished talking.

“I think we’ll stick around, thanks,” Tim says with a polite yet curt nod towards the nurse, watching as she walks off before turning to face Lucy.

“What if we’re needed? We can be helping out on the streets and just wait for a call from the hospital before coming back to get a statement.” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim with a shocked and confused expression.

“Who’s in charge here, Boot? If they need us, they’ll radio us. For now, I’d rather wait here, get the kid's statement and stop this guy before another kid gets hurt.” Tim says firmly, resuming his pacing as Lucy sinks back into the uncomfortable waiting room chair, pulling out her phone and texting Jackson in the hope he’ll be able to respond.

After an hour and a half of Tim pacing back and forth and Lucy flipping between texting Jackson and scrolling through various social media, a nurse approaches the two again, stopping Tim in his tracks while Lucy shoves her phone in her pocket and stands up.

“She’s come around and the doctors have cleared her for you to take a statement. However, I will warn you she hasn’t been the most talkative so I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get anything out of her.” The nurse says, leading Tim and Lucy towards the room you have been moved to for recovery.

“Thank you. We’ve got it from here.” Tim says, reaching for the door handle to enter the room.

“Oh, one last thing. We haven’t managed to get a name out of her yet so if you manage to do that please let us know so we can contact whoever necessary.” The nurse quickly adds, making both Tim and Lucy nod before Tim pulls the door open and enters the room with Lucy close behind.

“Hey, kid. I’m Officer Tim Bradford and this is Officer Lucy Chen. We were the first responders on sight when you were found in the park.” Tim introduced both himself and Lucy, noting how shy and withdrawn you looked and made sure to take a gentler approach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you guys…” You mumble sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze flicks down to your hands to avoid eye contact. Truthfully, you had recognised Tim’s voice the second he started speaking. You don’t think you could ever forget a voice that made you feel so safe in the most terrifying moment of your life.

“Don’t apologise. You suffered a lot of blood loss so it’s understandable that you don’t remember everything. We’ve shared our names, can we get yours?” Tim asks, watching you quietly as you nod.

“It’s y/n. y/n l/n.” You say quietly, briefly glancing up at the two officers, noticing how Lucy noted down your name.

“Have you got any family we can contact?” Lucy asks, looking from her notebook to you as you shake your head.

“No family.” You admit, feeling heat creeping into your cheek as your gaze dropped once more and both Tim and Lucy exchanged a look at your admission.

“So, are you in a children’s home then?” Tim asks, fighting the urge not to frown when you nod your head, confirming his suspicions.

“If you could even call it that.” You mutter, causing Lucy to smoothly change the subject.

“Is there anything you can tell us about who stabbed you?” She asks, both officers noticing how your hand came to rest atop where your injury was.

“I didn’t see a face, he had a hood covering his face. It was the early hours of the morning and all I remember was a guy grabbing me and then the next thing I knew I was stabbed.” You explain, feeling useless that you couldn’t provide more to help.

“And did the stabbing happen in the park? Where we found you?” Tim enquires further, wanting to put together as many details as possible.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t been sleeping so well recently so I sneak out and go on walks in the morning to energise myself enough to get through the day. I don’t have a specific route on these walks so maybe… I don’t know.” You say, sighing lightly as you rack your brain for any memory of what happened to you.

“Maybe what?” Tim prods gently, wanting to get as much information as possible.

“The home I’m in really isn’t the best. Most of the kids there end up as drug dealers or in gangs. Maybe I walked onto some gang territory without realising it or maybe I stumbled across something I shouldn’t have I don’t know.” You mumble, trying to make sense of all the information in your head.

“Are you part of any gangs?” Lucy asks, not wanting to sound accusatory but needing an answer.

“No. Not at all. I’m probably the only teenager there who doesn’t get involved in any of that stuff.” You quickly clarify, shaking your head to exaggerate your point.

“But… I’m not the most popular kid in the home either. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the kids tell their gang members it’s okay to mess with me.” You continue with a shrug, making Tim’s heart hurt at how small and defeated you look.

“Is there anything else you can remember from the stabbing? Anything that could help us identify your attacker?” Tim asks, folding his arms across his chest as he speaks.

“The guy said something, I can’t remember what. But he did have a crazy deep voice. I didn’t know someone could have a voice that deep. I’d probably be able to recognise his voice if I heard it again.” You recall, feeling like you’re scraping the barrel of your knowledge of what happened. At your words, Tim unfolds his arms, digging into his pocket for his card and crossing the room to hold the card out towards you.

“Thank you for your help. If you remember anything else feel free to give us a call.” Tim says with a soft smile, watching as you carefully extract the card from his hand, flipping it over a couple of times and studying the words on it as you nod lightly. As Tim and Lucy move to leave your hospital room you speak up.

“Officers. Thank you… for saving me.” You say, nervousness gripping your stomach as you talk. You knew you had nothing to feel nervous about, after all, they had saved your life.

“No need to thank us, kid. Just focus on getting better.” Tim says with a nod while Lucy bids you a soft goodbye before they both exit your hospital room.

“Okay, Chen we’re going to find out what home y/n is in and then we should scope out the area. Find out what we can about the kids that are in gangs.” Tim says as the two make their way through the hospital.

“And hopefully find someone with a deep enough voice that y/n recognises,” Lucy adds as they both get into the shop.

“I’m hoping we can track the guy down ourselves. I’d rather not have to drag the kid into this if I can help it.” Tim says, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot while Lucy busies herself with trying to find out what children's home you’re in. At Tim’s protective words, Lucy raises an eyebrow and smirks lightly.

“So all that talk about me adopting a puppy and you’ve gotten yourself one of your own.” She muses jokingly, watching as Tim glances at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I did not adopt a puppy. This is a kid who was hurt and there’s a chance she could get hurt again if we don’t do something about it soon. I want to catch the guy who did this to her and get her someplace safe if this home is as bad as she’s making it out to be. You, however, felt bad for someone who stole your car.” Tim defends, trying not to let on how worried he truly is about you. Lucy, unconvinced by his words, nods and focuses her attention back to the computer. 

“We’ve got a location of the home. Let’s head over there.” Lucy reports, giving Tim the address and beginning to do further background research as Tim begins driving in the direction of the children’s home. The drive didn’t take long from the park where they had found you and as they neared, both Tim and Lucy began to understand why you had said it wasn’t a good home.

The children’s home was located in a run-down area, just one look around the neighbourhood and anyone could tell that crime thrives in it. Just the mere presence of Tim and Lucy was already garnering them weird looks as they parked outside of the children’s home and exited their shop, crossing to the front door and knocking on it before taking a step back to wait for someone to open the door.

“What do you want?” The door is thrown open and Tim comes face to face with a short man who quickly notices Tim and Lucy’s uniforms and straightens up.

“Sorry. What can I do for you officers?” He amends his words, painting on a large smile that anyone could tell was fake.

“I’m Officer Bradford and this is Officer Chen. May we come in?” Tim asks, already beginning to make his way towards the door as the man holds it open to allow them both in.

“Let’s talk in my office. I’m Stan.” He introduces himself and leads the two towards his office, a small murky room piled high with paperwork.

“A teenager who is in your care, y/n l/n, was found stabbed in the park not too far from here. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this to her?” Lucy begins as Stan takes his seat behind his desk.

“y/n was stabbed? That’s a real shame.” Stan says, making Tim cock an eyebrow at his faux sincerity.

“She’s in the hospital recovering from her injuries. Again, do you know of anyone who might like to hurt her? She mentioned that a lot of the kids around here wind up involved with gangs. Do any of them have reason to hurt her?” Tim asks, watching as Stan shrugs lightly.

“If I’m honest, the kid was an easy target. She’s been here since she was practically a baby so being the longest-running kid in the home is bound to put a little bit of a target on your back.” Stan says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair while Lucy notices Tim clench his jaw.

“So you’re telling us you allowed those kids to pick on her just because she was an ‘easy target’ in your eyes?” Lucy asks, hoping that somehow she was wrong in how she interpreted Stan’s words.

“I know who those kids hang out with. I’m not looking to put myself in the line of fire for her.” At Stan’s words, Tim was unable to hold himself back from an outburst.

“You willingly let kids bully y/n because you were scared of the company they keep? Maybe they wouldn’t go out running around in gangs if you looked after the kids that are supposed to be in your care.” Tim says lowly, edging closer to the desk and bracing his hands on it, leaning closer to Stan to get his point across.

“Tim, let’s not do this. Stan, if you think of anything that might help us find y/n’s attacker, give us a call.” Lucy says, gently guiding Tim away from the desk before placing a card down on the desk and leading Tim out of the building.

“y/n is not going back there. I won’t let her.” Tim says the moment they leave the home, practically seething with rage as he makes his way back to the shop.

“I know this home clearly has some serious issues but you won’t be able to just up and move her as easily as you might think,” Lucy says, getting into the vehicle as Tim starts the engine.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll find the ass that hurt her. Find a way to prove Stan doesn’t give a shit about the kids in his care and then I’ll make sure y/n has someplace safe to go to once she’s out of hospital.” Tim says as if he held all the answers in his newly formed plan.

“Okay, you’re getting worked up about this so let’s take lunch and talk this all through. We’ll try and come up with a game plan to find the guy who hurt y/n and after that, we’ll tackle the other problem.” Lucy says calmly, doing what she can to make sure Tim relaxes, knowing he couldn’t go around the neighbourhood with this attitude. At her words, Tim lets out a long sigh before nodding and beginning to drive in the direction of someplace to get food.

After finding a place to have some lunch, Lucy and Tim sit down opposite each other and begin to talk through the minimal facts they have about the case so far.

“She was stabbed in the morning, I’d assume maybe an hour or so before we found her.” Lucy starts, consulting her notebook.

“But she wasn’t stabbed at the park so we can assume she walked from where she was stabbed to the park. Maybe she was looking for help.” Tim says, lifting his drink to take a sip.

“We could radio the unit that arrived on scene after we left and see if there are any blood trails that might help us find where the stabbing happened. Maybe the attacker tried to ditch the weapon nearby.” Lucy muses, leaning back against her chair as she thinks.

“If it’s a gang member I doubt they’d be stupid enough to leave the weapon nearby. But then again there’s always the chance so it might be worth a try.” Tim admits, finishing his food and downing his drink while Lucy does the same. As they dispose of their trash, Tim’s phone rings, making him dig it out of his pocket to answer it while Lucy waits.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Officer Bradford, is that you?” Your quiet voice comes through the other end of the phone, timid as if you were afraid of bothering him.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks, an instant bout of worry gripping him.

“I’m sorry if I called at a bad time I just… I remembered something about the attack and I don’t know if it’ll help.” You say, and Tim can hear the worry and fear in your voice of potentially being an inconvenience to him.

“No, you’re fine. I’ll swing by the hospital and you can tell me about what it is you remember. Does that sound good?” Tim says gently, doing his best to reassure you over the phone.

“Okay.” You whisper before hanging up the phone and leaving Tim to turn to Lucy.

“Was that y/n?” Lucy asks, studying Tim’s reaction carefully.

“Yeah. She said she remembered some stuff about the attack.” Tim says, shoving his phone in his pocket and making his way towards the shop while Lucy follows behind.

“Do you think this information will help us find her attacker?” Lucy asks as she gets in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to pressure her. But we’ll do what we can with it.” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive, once again, to the hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital, they headed straight to the room you were in and knocked on the door before letting themselves in upon receiving your permission.

“You came.” You said, the smallest, shy smile on your face when you realised that they had come when you asked and both officers had noticed the notebook and pencil you had in hand.

“Of course,” Tim says with a nod and a gentle smile.

“You like drawing?” Lucy asks gently, moving to sit on one of the nearby chairs, easing herself down gently as you shake your head lightly.

“Not really. I just remembered one detail about the guy who attacked me and I figured it would be best if I try to draw it.” You admit, attempting to tidy up the rough sketch on the paper.

“What was the detail?” Tim then asks, easing down into the other chair as they both watch you quietly.

“The guy who attacked me had a scar that looked like this on his hand.” You say, flipping the paper around and showing it to Tim and Lucy.

“That looks like…” Lucy begins.

“A brand.” Tim finishes, glancing from the paper to you as you nod.

“There’s a kid in the home I’m in, Kevin, he’s always acted really weird around me and even asked me out a few times despite knowing how uncomfortable he makes me. I know he’s part of this gang and all the members are branded somewhere on their bodies. I know Kevin definitely wasn’t the guy who stabbed me but I think he asked one of the other members of his gang to hurt me.” You explain as Lucy takes the sketch from you, studying it closely.

“This Kevin, has he ever threatened to hurt you to your face?” Tim asks, already fighting back the seething rage beginning to build up.

“Never outright. But the last time I rejected him he did tell me that I’d regret it.” You say, remembering that moment from a couple of nights ago.

“And did he ever… do anything else?” Tim enquires further, hoping for a specific answer while preparing himself for the worst.

“No. I don’t know if he ever would’ve tried anything, but growing up in that home meant I knew where all the best places to lay low were when he did get extra clingy. And I also try to spend as much time out of the home and away from that neighbourhood as possible.” You explain, fiddling with the corner of the cover laid across you.

“So you believe he told a member of that gang to hurt you because you wouldn’t date him?” Lucy clarifies, feeling her heart break when you nod.

“Okay, we’re going to try to find that kid and talk to him about this gang of his,” Tim states, moving to stand up and exit the room with Lucy following behind.

“Wait!” Your desperate cry stops Tim in his tracks, making him turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, worried as to why you had reacted like that.

“Don’t tell Kevin or anyone I told you about this. If they find out I squealed… I don’t know what they’ll do to me.” You say, vaguely hearing the increased beeping coming from the heart monitor in your panicked state.

“Hey, y/n, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Tim quickly strides across the room to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and getting you to look up at him. He takes a few exaggerated deep breaths which you mimic shakily, each breath coming smoother than the last until you’ve regained control of your breathing and your heartbeat has begun to settle into a steady rhythm once more.

“That’s it, kid, just like that.” Tim then praises gently as he feels the tension leaving your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before releasing his grip. As Tim lets go, you lift your hand to wipe at your suddenly watery eyes, trying not to flinch at the slight pain from the movement.

“We won’t tell anyone there about what you told us. I promise.” Lucy says, knowing that the number one rule of being a police officer was that they couldn’t promise anything but seeing how Tim nodded lightly in agreement confirmed that this was one promise that they could make.

“We’ll go and try and find information. But we won’t mention you at all. They won’t know you told us. Promise.” Tim assures you, stepping back and joining Lucy by the door.

“Hang tight, y/n. We’ll stop that guy.” Lucy says with a soft smile, folding up the sketch she still had in hand and putting it in her pocket with your permission before both she and Tim exit your hospital room, making their way back to their shop to go in search of further answers. They make their way back to the neighbourhood of the children’s home and instead of heading to the children’s home, they do a walk around the area, both of them noticing how people watch them carefully, wary of what they might do.

“Someone around here has to be a part of that gang y/n was talking about, right?” Lucy asks quietly, walking alongside Tim as they observe their surroundings.

“I’d put money on it. But we can’t exactly go up to them and ask. We have to be subtle.” Tim says, noticing how they were beginning to approach two teenage boys who were leaning against a wall, talking amongst themselves.

“Don’t usually get cops around here.” One of the teenagers says, loud enough for Tim and Lucy to hear, making them exchange a quick look before they turn to face the teens.

“We’re patrolling the area. Got a problem?” Tim accuses, folding his arms across his chest as he stares down at the two teenagers.

“Patrolling for what?” The other asks, both of them clearly unafraid of Tim and Lucy’s presence.

“There’s been some incidents around here and we just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Lucy lies easily, hands resting on her belt as her eyes flick between the two boys.

“Are you accusing us of what happened with that bitch this morning?” One of the teens suddenly becomes accusatory, making Lucy raise her eyebrows in slight shock at the tone.

“No one’s accusing you of anything. In fact, neither of us mentioned an incident this morning. Is there anything you can tell us about it?” Tim then asks cooly, noticing how the teens twitch a little in their realisation about being caught out.

“It wasn’t us.” One of them says, instantly on the defensive, his voice harsh.

“We’re not saying it is you. We’re simply asking if you know anything.” Lucy says, holding a hand out to try and calm the tension she could sense building.

“We don’t know anything.” The other teen says, both of them then turning on their heels and stalking off somewhere else.

“As suspicious as that was. They didn’t do it.” Tim states, letting out a soft sigh and watching them walk away.

“Neither of them had a deep voice. At least not one matching y/n’s description. But did you see-”

“One of them had the brand on his arm. We’re definitely in the right place.” Tim finishes, eyes flicking around the streets in search of other people to question.

“Can I help you, officers? I’m Toby.” A deep voice comes from behind Tim and Lucy, making them exchange a look before they turn to face the owner of the voice. They quickly came face to face with someone who looked to be in his early twenties, he was not much shorter than Tim and they could only assume he did a lot of heavy lifting with how he was built.

“There was a stabbing this morning. A girl about fifteen years old was the victim. Do you know anything about it?” Tim asks smoothly, not showing any signs of suspicion as he watches Toby’s reaction.

“A stabbing? I haven’t heard anything about it.” He says, shrugging lightly before folding his arms across his chest, displaying the brand that you had described on his hand.

“Nothing at all?” Lucy prompts, glancing from Toby to Tim who nods the slightest amount.

“Nothing.” Toby confirms.

“That’s funny. We did some investigating and apparently her attacker was part of the same gang with those exact brands. According to some people we spoke to, the attacker had a deep voice and had a branding scar on his hand. Would you like to revise your answer?” Lucy says, staring down Toby whose calm and collected look shifts and soon a knife is being brandished towards the two of them, making Tim grab Lucy’s arm and pull her behind him.

“She should’ve thought twice before she turned down Kevin. The bitch just got what she deserved.” He says angrily, knife pointed directly at Tim to keep them at a distance.

“I think she’s well within her rights to turn someone down if she doesn’t like them,” Tim says calmly, not wanting to aggravate him any more.

“Kevin is my bro and I’ll look out for him like he’s my own family. If that means getting rid of some bitch who won’t date him then that’s what I’ll do.” Toby says, making Tim clench his jaw.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.” Tim states, fed up and angered by what he’s been hearing. Without warning, Tim lunged forward, grabbing Toby’a wrist, and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor before pinning his arm behind his back. Tim then pulls his handcuffs out of his belt and handcuffs his hands together while Lucy radios control to let them know of the situation.

“Grab the knife,” Tim instructs Lucy, already pushing Toby towards the shop while Lucy does what she’s asked. The closer they get to the shop, the more Tim becomes aware of the pairs of eyes watching them. He gets Toby into the shop then both Tim and Lucy get into the front seats.

“Are we going to let y/n know we got the guy?” Lucy asks, briefly glancing back at Toby before looking at Tim who nods lightly.

“Once we’ve processed this asshole I’m going to head back over to the hospital and let her know we’ve caught the guy,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive over to the station.

“That’s good. I think it’ll be good for her to know.” Lucy agrees, nodding slightly and focusing her attention on the passing scenery.

“You’re wasting an awful lot of time focusing on her. What makes her so important?” Toby grumbles from the backseat.

“No one asked for your input. You and that other kid are the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” Tim says angrily, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to glare at him. The rest of the journey back to the station was relatively quiet, with Toby attempting to speak up every so often, only to be silenced by Tim’s silent glare.

When they made it to the station, Tim and Lucy processed Toby as quickly as possible, practically shoving him into one of the cells the moment they were able to and finish up the paperwork in record time.

“Are you coming with me or not, Boot?” Tim asks, already making his way back towards the shop after finishing processing.

“I’m coming,” Lucy says, rushing to Tim’s side, both of them get back in their shop and make their way back to the hospital. Upon arrival, the hospital seemed much quieter, meaning Tim and Lucy didn’t have to swerve through seas of people to make their way to your room. When they reach your room, they knock once more and enter with permission, both of them smiling at you as they walk in.

“We’ve got some good news,” Lucy says with a smile, noticing how your eyes lit up the slightest bit at her words.

“We apprehended the person who hurt you. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim says, his smile matching Lucy’s as you smile at their words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, fighting back the threat of teary eyes as the relief sets in.

“We’re just doing our jobs. No need to thank us.” Lucy says softly, approaching the bed and taking your hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to open an investigation into the home. See if I can get it closed or something. Or at the very least get you moved somewhere else so you don’t have to deal with that Kevin anymore.” Tim adds, watching as you look from Lucy to him.

“You don’t need to do that.” You start.

“I do. Nothing about that place is safe for you. Even when we do get the okay to arrest Kevin, that home isn’t a stable or safe environment for you. So I want to do what I can to help you out.” Tim says, smoothly cutting you off and stepping closer to your bedside, his gaze soft as he looks down at you.

“I don’t want you guys potentially getting hurt on my behalf.” You mumble, wiping at your eyes with your free hand to prevent any tears from falling.

“Let us worry about ourselves. All you have to do is worry about getting better. We’ll handle everything else.” Tim says reassuringly, his gentle smile calming and encouraging as you take some deep breaths to calm down.

“I owe you both so much.” You say gratefully after you’ve calmed down, smiling shyly at your saviours.

“You don’t owe us anything. We were just doing our jobs.” Lucy says softly, her smile still as gentle as ever. The three of you continued to converse for a few more minutes, both Tim and Lucy noticing how you became more confident in talking to them, but Lucy had noticed how you were more comfortable with Tim. And she hadn’t missed how Tim had practically switched into a whole new man around you. He was much softer and fatherly towards you. After a few minutes, Tim notices the time on his watch and sighs lightly.

“We should head out,” Tim says regrettably, glancing over at Lucy who nods softly.

“Look after yourself y/n,” Lucy says as they cross to the door.

“If I don’t die of boredom first. There’s nothing to do here.” You say with a light chuckle, lying back in the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m sure if you ask a nurse they could find you something to do.” Tim says apologetically, offering the best solution he could think of at the moment before both he and Lucy bid you goodbye and head out to finish the rest of their shifts.

The rest of their shift went smoothly, the only crimes they encountered being things like reckless driving and noise complaints. By the time they had made it back to the station for the end of their shift, Tim wanted to input his request for an investigation into the children’s home you had spent your life in. He wasn’t usually picky about which detectives might take his investigation requests but he wanted to make sure Angela picked up this case. He knew she’d keep him in the loop and let him help out if he wanted. After talking to Angela and getting her on board with looking into the home, Tim thanked her and then headed out to his truck.

On his way back to his house, Tim drove past a store, pulled into the car park and found someplace to park after remembering he needed to pick up a few things. He entered the store, grabbing the things he needed before stumbling across a book aisle in the store. He stood in front of the aisle for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, digging into his pocket for his phone and stepping into the aisle.

Unbeknownst to Tim, Lucy had also entered the store five minutes after he did, not even aware that Tim was there. She browsed the aisles, searching for what she and Jackson needed until she also found herself by the book aisle. She looked up the aisle and saw Tim standing in front of a selection of books. One hand holding a book, the other holding his phone as he studied the screen intently.

“Looking for book recommendations?” Lucy asks, chuckling to herself when Tim jumps, head whipping around and visibly relaxing upon realising it is Lucy talking to him.

“I was just- y/n mentioned she was bored so I thought I’d grab her a couple of books to give her tomorrow so she can pass the time until she’s out of the hospital,” Tim says, showing Lucy his phone and how he’d been looking up popular books for your age group to pick out the best ones for you.

“Here, let me help.” Lucy offers, taking the book from Tim’s hand, inspecting it quietly before nodding and putting it in Tim’s basket before plucking another book off the shelf, and handing it to Tim to judge after reading the blurb herself.

“You know… you could foster y/n if you wanted.” Lucy says softly after Tim puts the book back, and grabs another to look at.

“What?” Tim asks, no anger behind his voice, but confusion.

“You’re really good with her. It’s clear you care about her and she’s comfortable with you. Fostering her would keep her out of the home while the investigation is ongoing. Plus it would keep her safe and away from that neighbourhood.” Lucy explains herself, watching as Tim falls silent, putting the book he had in his hand in his basket.

“I don’t know. My career isn’t the safest thing in the world and I don’t want someone to potentially use her to get to me.” Tim explains with a sigh.

“I get that. It’s your choice. But she definitely feels safer with you than anyone else.” Lucy says softly, offering Tim one last book before turning on her heels to make her way through the rest of the store, leaving Tim alone.

When Tim gets home, he’s greeted by Kojo who rushes over to Tim happily, demanding to get attention which Tim is more than happy to provide. Once Kojo trots off, happy to entertain himself while Tim unpacks the things he bought. As he unpacks, he sets aside the two books he and Lucy had picked out for you, as well as a few packets of candy and chocolates. Tim was sure he was going overboard but he wanted to make sure that what was left of your hospital stay was pleasant.

After organising everything, Tim makes himself dinner, making sure to feed Kojo while he waits for his food to cook. Once his food is ready, Tim sits himself down to eat and watch the football game he’d been waiting to watch all day. However, as he watched the game, he found himself distracted by the option Lucy had brought up to him at the store. He knew she was right, he couldn’t deny how much he had come to care for you in a short period of time. But he also didn’t want to risk bringing more harm to you through his job. Tim’s focus on the football game began to dwindle as he debated the idea of fostering you back and forth in his head. As if he could sense Tim’s dilemma, Kojo approached Tim, hopping up onto the sofa and resting his head on Tim’s leg, letting out a soft whine while Tim pets his head. Eventually, Tim concluded his internal debate as he was putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Upon finally concluding, Tim grabbed his laptop and returned to the sofa, settling down alongside Kojo once more, opening it and typing in one simple question.

‘How to foster a child?’

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour: Day 2

You decide to give Jungkook exactly what he wanted - a date. @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.658

Warning: semi-public sex, oral (m receiving), smut, simp jungkook, car sex, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talking, feelings being expressed :'), dom jungkook, submissive reader,

DAY 2

“Excuse me?” Jungkook is taken aback by your words and he releases a deep scoff from his throat. “No.”

You roll your eyes at Jungkook’s dramatic response. “I’m saying. It doesn’t have to be anything over the top.”

“Y/N…” Jungkook grasps both of your hands from the other side of the kitchen island. “...we’re not having our first date in my living room binge watching Law & Order and eating pizza.”

You sigh and slump your shoulders. “We can even watch whatever nerd shit-”

“Nerd shit?!” Jungkook appears offended. “Just because I watch a little Marvel.” he then shakes his head. “Look, that's honestly besides the point. Me and you are going on a real date.”

The following morning when you woke up, you were surprised to not see Jungkook. You recalled after the shower the two of you took that slumber came soon after, you sporting one of his shirts. The spot where you last recalled him was left cold, meaning that he was gone for the majority of the time you slept. 

You washed up, brushing your teeth vigorously to get rid of your morning breath. You then make your way down the hall to where you hear Jungkook scurrying around in the kitchen. “You don’t have to be so sappy.” you recall snickering, leaning against the other side of the island.

“Seriously?” Jungkook scoffed. “I woke up early to assure you have an amazing breakfast and this is what you say to me?” Jungkook shook his head but there's a tiny smile on his lips. “Picked these flowers fresh for you this morning. Hope the neighbor doesn’t mind.” Your eyes glanced at the assorted flowers that appeared as if they’ve been snatched from someone’s garden  - the stems are all different sizes and didn’t appear to be bought from a shop or a grocery store.

You and Jungkook ate breakfast, you happily munching on everything he cooked for you without as much as a care. You and him sat side by side, entirely too close, and enjoyed the company the two of you provided.

“Let’s go on a date.” Jungkook had said once he was done with his own food - a random silence falling before the two of you prior to him speaking.

Your head turned to Jungkook slowly, his eyes already on you and awaiting a response. 

“You already said you were my girl…” Jungkook trailed off, lifting his hand to cup your chin. “...if you cut off the play hard to get game you love to play, then we can do what we both want to do.”

“Okay.” you nodded your head, not only surprising yourself at your agreement, but also Jungkook. His eyes turned wide and in an instant, he’s smiling wide.

“I’m thinking…a picnic? A movie? Dinner? How about we just do it all?” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.

“A picnic movie…dinner?” you tilt your head with a smile on your lips. “Isn’t that what I suggested we do here?”

“Fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook drops your hands to run his hands through his hair. “You don’t go out on date’s much, do you?”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook, you think.

“Dates are supposed to be things we do outside the home.” Jungkook says slowly, speaking as if you were a child. 

“I know what a fucking date is.” you roll your eyes. “Fine. I’ll let you plan this…picnic movie dinner date. Whatever the fuck that is.”

Jungkook then claps his hands together. “Thank you!” Jungkook comes around the island to wrap you in a tight embrace, your back against his torso. “Then soon you’ll agree to be my girlfriend and everything will fall into place.”

“I don’t think so.” you snicker, but even you didn’t believe your words. You were, damn you say this, beginning to like having Jungkook around. 

“Mhmm.” Jungkook hums, his embrace only getting tighter. “Who knows what you’ll agree to when you’re on my dick.”

“Excuse-”

“I feel like you’ll agree to a marriage proposal as long as I fuck you right.” Jungkook continues, chuckling after the words are spoken. His right hand grips your breast tightly before it dips down between your legs. 

Jungkook’s shocked when you initial the kiss first, turning your head to press a needy kiss to his lips. It causes him to groan into it, cupping your sex entirely. 

“Can I sit on your face?” you plead.

“Always.” Jungkook nods hastily, hoisting you off of the island stool to make his way down the hall to his bedroom.

NIGHT 2

“How the hell did he get my mother’s number?” you asked Jungkook in pure disbelief, re-reading Jimin’s tweet.

“Please don’t involve me in that.” Jungkook glances away from the road to you. “I have no idea how. It’s Jimin. He has his ways.”

You groan, turning off your phone and putting it to the side. “Fuck Jimin.”

“Well, he is the reason you agreed to go on a date with me. He’s going to be the godfather to our children.”

You snarl at Jungkook’s words, heat rushing through you. “You always go years in advance, do you?” you grumble. “I thought Jimin hated me.”

“Hate you? Of course not!” Jungkook begins to laugh as if it's the funniest statement in the world. “He actually really likes us together. Says we fit.”

You furrow your brows at the new information. Jimin wasn’t an outright asshole, but neither was he someone you considered that “liked you”. 

“He’s just a little upset. I kicked him off the streaming services so you can have a better experience.” Jungkook snorts. “But he tells me all the time that he ships us.”

“Huh.” you nod slowly. “I suppose that means I have your friend’s approval.” you joke.

“Of course.” Jungkook laughs. He places a hand on your thigh while the other is firmly on the steering wheel. “I already met the in-laws. You milk my dick every night-”

“Ugh.” you slap his hand away from your thigh and cross your arms. “Y/N, baby. Stop denying fate.” Jungkook says. “We’re going on our first date. It has to be something to tell our kids about. So if you can kindly behave.”

Jungkook was adamant about a picnic movie dinner date - in his own way. The night is cool and far too chilly to have a picnic outside, not only that, but it was dark. He managed to find a drive in theater that was showing a horror movie tonight and before the journey there, he had gathered dinner - chinese takeout with an abundance of drinks and snacks to share along the way.

“Kinda dead.” you note as Jungkook comes to the drive-in theater. There’s a man at a concession stand who appeared to be half asleep upon Jungkook entering. He doesn’t bother to stop Jungkook so he can pay, just nodding his head for him to drive along. 

“Even better.” Jungkook murmurs to himself. There’s only 2 cars that he can see parked further from one another and from his own. “I’m so excited.” 

You couldn’t help but grim st Jungkook’s excitement. His determination to date you was cute, you’d admit. 

“What movie is on now?” you ask, taking off your seatbelt to get comfortable.

“Let’s see…it follows.” Jungkook scrolls through his phone for a bit. “Followed by some more horror. We can stay for one more if you’d like.”

You nod your head. 

The date was nice. Jungkook kept his car on so the heat could circulate and the both of you ate and talked, laughing at a few scenes or small jokes that each of you would send. 

Was this what your life turned to? A domesticated realtionship with Jeon Jungkook - the same boy you swore was the embodiment of a fuck boy? Your mother always told you not to judge a book by its cover and that’s exactly what you had done with him. 

But you’d give yourself slack. Jungkook looked like a fuck boy - tattoos, piercings, hot body and was a smooth talker? How could you think any other way?

But then Jungkook and his stubborn competitiveness came in. He was determined to prove you wrong - prove that he could be someone you could like more than just a fuck buddy. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

Jungkook turns to you, a trail of sauce down the side of his lips. “You’ve been staring into space for a while now.”

You take a sip of your drink  - Jungkook insisted you tried this flavored soda that was one of his favorites; you weren’t so sure if you liked it as much. “Just thinking.”

“While there’s a murderer on the loose?” Jungkook furrows a brow, licking the sauce away with his tongue. “You would surely be the first to die.”

You roll your eyes in response.

“What’s on your mind?”

“What is it that you like about me exactly?”

Jungkook turns to you fully. “I had this speech set out for a one year anniversary.” he sighs.

“Can you get serious?” your body feels hot and Jungkook laughs. 

“I like how stubborn you are. You always keep me on my toes. I never get bored when I’m with you.”

“Yet.”

Jungkook frowns. “Don’t ruin the moment with your negativity.” he quips. “You aren’t afraid to shit talk me even when I know deep down in that shell of a heart…” Jungkook smirks at your scowling face. He drops his chopsticks into the container he was eating and grasps your chin between his fingers. “...you love my company just as much as I love yours.”

“Simp.” you mumble.

“I’ll always simp for my girl.” Jungkook retorts. “If you don’t believe me, Y/N. I can continue.” Jungkook drops your chin. “I come to like the way you look in the morning. Drool on my pillow-”

“Fuck you.” you groan. “-while you snuggle close into me.” Jungkook laughs at your reaction. “I like watching you eat until you’re full and not be embarrassed that I’m watching. I love cooking for you, too.”

You swallow at Jungkook’s words.

“I like buying you things because there’s that softness in your eyes when I give it to you. It’s nice for those few seconds that you’re silent, just smiling. It makes me want to buy you even more things.”

“You can stop now.” you murmur to him, your heart pumping out your chest, so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

“I like how good to me you are.”

“I don’t think I’m that good.” you scoff with a shake of your head. You don’t do anything for Jungkook - not as much as he does for you, that is.

“You are.” Jungkook begins to close the lids of his food, deciding that the food could wait. He places the food back inside the bags and discards them in his back seat. “You’re so good for me. When you sit on my face. When you let me take control. You’re always good to me.”

With each passing word, Jungkook’s voice drops until it’s in a complete whisper.

“You allow me to hold you close, to kiss you, touch you…” you don’t realize how your legs are clenching until it’s friction. Curse your body for giving out on you when it comes to Jeon Jungkook and his deep voice.

“I can go on and on all night, Y/N.” Jungkook speaks with a tilt of his head. 

You inhale, closing your eyes for a bit. “Jungkook…” you say, opening your eyes to look straight at him. “...take your dick out.”

Jungkook furrows his brows at your request. “Huh-”

“Just take your dick out.” you say, shoving Jungkook in the shoulder.

Seriously, fuck Jeon Jungkook and his way of words that makes you just want to wrap your mouth around his dick. 

Jungkook nods hastily, wasting no time doing what he’s told.

The car isn’t big - you’re used to a lot of space when being with Jungkook. But, you would make it work. You wrap a hand around the base of Jungkook cock, tongue sticking out. A trail of saliva falls onto the tip of his cock and Jungkook shudders.

You begin to suck on the tip of Jungkook’s cock, focusing on it entirely. Your hands pump the length of him just like you know he likes it.

Jungkook places a hand on top of your head, resting in your hair. He winches in pleasure, eyes snapping shut.

You take Jungkook in you deeper and deeper - so deep that he’s hitting the back of your throat. You’re clenching around nothing now, your underwear soaking by the second, but you didn’t care. You wanted Jungkook now more than ever - if even possible. The sounds of your slurping echo off the car walls, Jungkook turning down the radio so the movie wouldn’t distract him from you.

“You’re always so, fuck…good to me.” Jungkook pants. It’s like he’s told you - there was never a true dull moment. Even outside of sex, he never knows when he’s going to get himself into when he’s with you. 

You pop his cock from your mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting your mouth to it. “Do you want to cum in my mouth?” you ask him, wheezing. “Or on my face?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jungkook’s cheeks are dusted red by your sudden question. He’s never thought about cumming on your face - and the thought now interests him. However, it also makes him feel as though you’re something that he doesn’t think of you as  - a simple slutty hookup. 

Your tongue twirls slowly onto the tip, lightly passing the small hole as you await his response. 

“J-Just…fuck, Y/N.” Jungkook throws his head back and lets out a whine. “Can I fuck you?”

You knit your brows. “No room-”

“Back seat.” Jungkook rushes to say. 

“What if someone sees?” your heart is pumping with adrenaline at just the thought of being caught with Jungkook now.

“It’s dark.” Jungkook scoffs. “And who even cares?”

You lick your lips and nod your head. “Wanna ride you.” you whine low and it doesn’t take long for you to be fully undressed in the back of Jungkook’s car - Jungkook removing the bottom half of his clothing before joining you. 

It’s cramped, you’d admit, but it doesn’t bother you. You tried your best not to cause too much commotion in your riding - the car was already moving from side to side - but Jungkook wasn’t going to allow any hesitation. He didn’t care what others saw - not like anyone was watching. His hands are roaming your naked body, watching with hooded eyes as you take him.

“Everything…okay?” Jungkook pants, biting his lip to hide yet another pleasurable moan. You nod your head, arms wrapped around Jungkook’s neck. You’re unsure yourself where the stamina came from - Jungkook was always the one with the unwavering speed and energy. 

“Why do you ask?” Jungkook’s cock is so deep inside of you that you never want to stop riding him.

“You’re fucking yourself so good.” Jungkook grunts, hands gripping the flesh of your ass. “Just thought maybe there was…” he stops for a moment when he feels you clench around him and it takes everything in him to not flip you over. “...something on your mind.”

There was, you think. You leaned away from Jungkook to watch his expression - the low eyes, whispering “fuck” and “shit” every other moment mixed with the pure bliss on his face. 

“I love your cock.” you admit with a high pitched moan. Oftentimes you’d refrain from giving Jungkook any satisfaction so early on.

“Yeah?” there was a deep chuckle in Jungkook’s voice. Any chance you had of being in control is taken when Jungkook begins to thrust upwards to meet your hips. 

Sober you - and not the dick drunk person you are now - are surely going to look back and die of humiliation. Who were you giving a man the satisfaction of knowing what you loved about them?

“You always fuck me so good.” you capture Jungkook’s lips on your own, fully allowing him to take control. “You treat me well, too.”

Jungkook kisses down your jaw, his thrusts never halting. So this is why you were doing this - sucking his cock like your life depended on it and then attempting to milk him dry. He supposed this was your way of telling him that you liked him - in a typical you way of things. Only when you were being fucked so good could you ever admit these feelings for him.

But, Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way - he loved breaking down those walls you put up.

“I’ll always treat you well.” Jungkook grunts. “Come here.” Jungkook maneuvers you so that you’re against the seat, ass in the air. He wasn’t going to let the tight space stop him from fucking you the way he wanted to. 

Another pleasurable whine escapes you when Jungkook re-enters you. The new position allows him to go deeper, hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. One hand rests onto your hip to keep you in place while another hoists you up by your neck.

“What else, baby?” Jungkook says between thrusts. “What else do you like about me?”

Jungkook was getting off to this, fully understanding that you wouldn’t admit these feelings for him any other way. You were far too stubborn - but that didn’t mean he never wanted to hear them.

“Y-You deal with me. You’re always so…so…” your eyes begin to flutter close, pussy pulsing around Jungkook’s cock. It’s as if with each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper, fully fucking every inch of life out from you. “...so nice to me.”

Jungkook leans down, his tongue licking from the middle of your back to your shoulder. He then presses a kiss against your shoulder blade. “You know you’re my girl. I’ll always be kind to you.”

“I-I know, baby.”

Fuck.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. This was something he was never going to live down and the sober part of you hopes that he didn’t hear you say the little pet name that the dick drunk side of you said.

Of course, Jungkook did and his eyes widened slightly. 

“You like me.” Jungkook laughs a joyous tune - it’s as if he isn’t plunging his cock deep inside of you right now. He has a boyish grin on his lips as he continues. The hand on your hope makes its way between your legs, rubbing along on your wet clit. “You like me, Y/N!” he sing-songs.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook - because wasn’t it obvious that you liked him? You spent more time with him than you did with anyone else - even Chaeyoung was beginning to question if things had gotten further than you told her.

“Didn’t I tell you I can have you saying anything for me if I fucked you good enough?”

Fuck. Jeon. Jungkook.

Jungkook’s fingers continue to play with your clit, his pounding never ceasing. This is what fueled Jungkook - your moans, the clenching of your pussy, you admitting that you liked him - no matter how obvious it was outside of sex. Hearing you say it was enough to fuel him even further.

“It’s a matter of time before you admit you love me.” there it was, the deep sultriness in Jungkook’s voice has returned. “But we can wait a little longer for that. I’ve waited this long to hear you admit you liked me.”

You’re sobbing now due to overstimulation - that and Jungkook always had a way with words just as he had a way with using his dick.

“You always look so pretty when you take me.” Jungkook’s warm breath is right against your ear. It causes you to shudder while goosebumps litter your skin. “You know sometimes I think about how there’s guys I know that want you.”

You whimper when Jungkook’s hand slaps along your clit harshly. 

“But I have you here in my car creaming my cock.” Jungkook cackles as if it’s the funniest thing in the world. “It brings great satisfaction knowing that I’m the one that has you. That Y/L Y/N who was once known to deny everyone…” Jungkook kisses your shoulder blade once more. “...is crying for my cock. Say it, baby. Say you only want me.”

“O-Only want you.” you comply far too quickly, a pathetic sob coming right after.

You’re cumming - it waves down on you hard. You don’t notice you’re crying with ecstasy until you’re blinking them away to focus on anything.

“Fuck, that’s right, baby. Only me.” Jungkook picks up the pace of his thrusts, sloppy. Your pussy is so wet that it squelches loudly. “Only us.” is all Jungkook is mustered to say before he himself is cumming, twitching with pleasure right inside of you.

Each time Jungkook cums inside of you always seems to be more intense than the last. He doesn’t release his cock from inside of you until he’s softening, the cum trailing down your thigh painfully slow.

“You okay?” Jungkook asks when he catches his breath, laying you gently against his seats. “I think we need a safe word. You never tell me when I go too far.” he murmurs, only half jokingly.

You mumble something beneath your breath and Jungkook comes closer to hear it.

Your body turns, your back now against his seat. Jungkook awaits for you to speak. “I’m so sleepy.”

Jungkook snickers. “I bet.” he responds. “You have work tomorrow, right?”

You nod your head, dreading the fact. Your work shifts are never long - but being with Jungkook majority of the day made life a little more bearable.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and making you want to be around him more.

“We should probably head home then.” Jungkook leans away but you grab his shirt. He stops, eyes fixed on you. “Yeah, baby?”

You lean forward a bit to capture his lips. It’s quick, nothing but a peck but it causes both of your hearts to leap. 

Part 6 Teaser | Series Masterlist

[maenoakasuna]

R A I N Y D A Y

Request : Hii i have a thanos or T.O.P request for you.. A surprise thunderstorm keeps reader and him both indoors. Wrapped in cozy blankets, they binge-watch his favorite old movies, teasing each other over preferences, sharing popcorn, and eventually dozing off in each other’s arms. Just some fluff or you can add some spice if you want

So it's not 100% exactly what I was asked for but close Enough. I'm not use to request yet ahah, but i'm pretty happy with this cute One-shot. I goes for T.O.P more Than Thanos for a change. It was my first time Writhing about him so I hope it's gonna be fine.

No Smut Sadly, I didn't had enough concentration, by cats didn't stop causing trouble around and I really wanted to finish this Tonight. Anyway, I hope it still gonna be cute and You will all like it.

Enjoy !

Fun fact : The arguing part is 100% my life with my best friend. He love old movie cause they are way better than what we have today, but i'm really picky about visual quality so I hate when He want me to watch another classic I didn't watch yet. So we alway fight about it but the friendly way

You were so excited to finally have a date with Seung-Hyun, you waited for this day all week long like a teenager. As much as you love your boyfriend, it’s kinda complicated for both of us to plan dates since he’s often really busy with his work. Between shows, practice, interviews, drama or movies, you barely have time to see each other. So when the morning finally came, you got up so fast out of your bed and opened the curtains of your window before the disappointment punched you like a full speed car.It was a rainy mess outside. You planned to go on a walk out of the city and now, with this terrible weather, you had no ideas of what you could do. With a heavy sigh, you take your phone and text Seung-Hyun.

‘’ It’s rainy outside today, what should we plan now ? :(  ‘’

You go on the weather Application to look if this rain will be there all or if it was just for this morning. Unfortunately, it will rain the next three days and high probabilities for a Thunderstorm by the end of the day.  Another Sigh escaped your lips as you put away your phone before getting up to take a towel before going into the bathroom to take a hot shower. When you came back, Seung-Hyun had answered you

‘’ I can come over and we can watch a movie. I already took a day off so Rainy or not I’m all yours for today ;) ‘’

You felt your cheeks blushed as you smiled brightly, happy to read his message. You answered his message.

‘’ Sounds like a good plan ! ‘’

He was fast to reply.

‘’ Good, I will be at your place in one hour ‘’

You quickly look around you, panicked. Your room was a Mess and you didn’t have time to clean the rest of the apartment. You were busy at work and barely had energy for chores. You gave him a positive answer with a smiley and put on some cozy clothes. Baggy jeans and one of Seung-Hyun Hoodie who was clearly too big for you, but who cares ? It’s comfortable and smells just as good as him. Once this is done, you quickly put your dirty clothes in the washing machine, clean up the dirty dishes, mop the floor really quickly and go put the trash outside. An hour later, it was almost perfect. You still had some paper on your dining table but it was your paperwork so you let it there, for  now. It will be chaos if you lose it cause you put them at a random place just to make your apartment look good. When someone knocks at the door, you smile as your heart starts beating faster in your chest and you open up. Your smile got bigger when you saw your boyfriend. You look around outside of your appartement en let him in.  You know he’s very careful when he comes to your place, but you always fear that some paparazzi or crazy fans could follow him and you don’t want Seung-Hyun to have a scandal since your relationship is still secret, you prefer double checking just in case. The moment your door was closed, you felt your boyfriend's hands on your hips, turning you around and kissing you. It was a gentle kiss, but you could feel that he restrained himself. 

«-I missed you, he said against your Lips, making you smile.-I missed you too »

You answered his kiss by passing your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, but he broke the kiss and pulled himself back.

«-I bring Some good old movies and some popcorn, he said as he removed his coat.»

You smile and give a look at his choices as he goes to your kitchen to put the Popcorn in the microwave. Taking your place on your couch you weren't able to know what movie you wanted to watch.

«-Why did you choose old movies ? -Cause they’re the best movies, what else ? -I could have been down for a Disney One, you answered. -Please don’t tell me you don’t want to watch old movies cause of the quality -Well…»

You gave him a look as he raised a brow, knowing he touched the problem. You always have this kind of conversation when it comes to movies. 

«-Have you seen those ones ?-No…So I guess you should choose the one we're gonna watch because any of them look good…»

Your boyfriend stayed silent for a moment. You noticed he wanted to reply something but nothing came out. He was just too shaken to reply to something. When the Popcorn was ready, He put it in a bowl and joined you on the couch.

«-You’re lucky I love You, he finally said, cause your movie taste are a disgrace »

You continue arguing and teasingly fight about the movies until Seung-Hyun chose one and put it into the console before coming back next to you. He gave you a simple summary about the story before it started. At least he chose a musical, close enough to a Disney one.  At the end, this movie was pretty good and the next one he put one was even better, as the third one.  You were sitting between his legs, your back against his chest on your big L couch, eating the second bowl of popcorn when the TV suddenly shutted down. It caught you by surprise, but not as much as the big thunder sound you heard from outside, letting a scream out of you. You weren't scared but it was so sudden. Seung-Hyun opened his phone screen.

«-The weather announced it. Thunderstorm and possible power cut. -Life gave me a chance to escape from your old taste in movies, you teasingly said. -And do you want to escape from me ? »

You felt a shiver pass your spine when his hands went under your sweater to find a place on your waist as his lips kiss your neck. 

«-Of course not, you managed to answer.»

You felt him smile as he continued to kiss your sensitive skin, sucking and biting it here and there to let you hickeys. You grunt and turn around to face him before slamming your lips against his. Seung-Hyun’s hands slide on your back to pull you closer to his chest. 

«-Maybe we should go to my room, you said between two kisses-The couch will be prefect »

Skilfully, he lay you on the couch without even separating your lips. His hands, back on your waist, slid down your hips as he pressed his own against you making you blush as you could feel his hard one on your inner thighs. You gasp at the feeling and brake the kiss.

«-Yeah, Right, we never did it there yet anyway, you answered with a smirk before going back to his lips.»