#i gave them a very sky name and i m very happy with it

[filopay]

I'm tired of saying

That I won't get lost

Ever again

Who knows?

Maybe I will

--Lissie

I discovered a game...

[ssvnriseya]

KEEP A SECRET (D.D.)

summary - daryl can't seem to get enough of the farmer's daughter, you.

warnings - MDNI 18+ very dark!daryl × innocent!reader, slight obsessive behavior, slight stalker behavior, manipulation, masturbation (m!), loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, baby trapping, age gap (reader is 20, daryl is mid 30's), intended lowercase.

note - OKAY, I'M SPOILING YOU ALL, THIS IS TOO MUCH SMUT?! IT TOOK ME A WEEK TO WRITE THIS, I'M SORRY! I WAS JUST SO BUSY; I COULD'VE FINISHED THIS IN TWO DAYS OR THREE IF I HADN'T BEEN BUSY. daryl's a bit of an asshole and dark at the end.

masterlist

you watched as a boy walked away from your sister, you smiled at him as he passed you.

he tried to smile back but failed immediately, the frown winning him over, he looked down the ground instead.

he walked away, shaking his head and tipping his hat off every now and then in frustration.

your face immediately converted into full worry as you glanced at your sister who seemed to be deep in thought.

you walked over to her slowly, the green grass beneath you falling as you stepped on them quite carefully.

the sky was as blue as it could get and it was a clear sunny day, and you loved it.

the trees danced with the wind softly as the birds living in them seemed to be singing along, chirping.

you smiled at maggie as you approached her. "hey." she greeted you, you beamed at her once again.

"maggie, was that glenn?" you asked in worry and wiggled your eyebrows at her, she shook her head giving you a small smile.

"just a crazy asian with a name." she responded, you nodded and continued looking for eggs at the chicken coops.

"well, i think the only thing about him crazy is about you." you replied back as you bent down to pick up an egg.

"trust me, he doesn't know what he wants, or what he is crazy about." she fought back, determined to make you know.

"i think he's old enough to know what he wants." you tried to defend the boy you hardly knew.

"you done there? how many eggs did nessie lay?" she changed the subject you looked at the chicken you and maggie, along with beth named a year before the apocalypse started.

"she's healthy... she has four babies." you said excited, you looked at maggie through your lashes and she groaned, looking away.

"no! you're not keeping one to raise as a pet!" she immediately shut your thought down even before you said them.

"just one? just one little chick?" you asked and pouted when she shook her head again.

"no." she said, her mind is settled on 'no chickens inside the house, baby or not!'

"but, it's gonna be so cute when it's hatched and grown a bit!" you exclaimed in excitement, imagining the chick running around the house.

"no..." she shook her head and said your full name making you pout, she really wasn't going to change her mind.

"i'll take care of it, feed it, and bathe it." you promised her, even holding your right hand up as a sign.

"and what will you feed it?" she raised an eyebrow at you, continuing to check the coop.

"my bread, i get two pieces every morning, i'll save one for it to eat the whole day." you planned slowly, not entirely sure.

"it's a baby." she pressed on and you nodded in agreement, you smiled at her.

"when you and glenn go on a run... w–will you get me a formula and the thing to feed it with? if you ever came across one, don't risk your life for it, okay?" you rambled to her.

"fine." she finally gave in, making you smile in delight. you beamed at her and hugged her so tight

"thank you, mags!" you kissed her cheeks and she smiled, she really loved making you happy.

"take care of it, okay? don't let it die." she reminded you sternly and you nodded.

"i see how glenn looks at you, maggie... i think he really likes you." you gave her a bright smile and handed her the basket full of eggs.

she didn't reply and checked the coops for more eggs, "no more eggs." she said.

she took the basket from you, "I'll check out the stables, you should go in." you told her sweetly.

she nodded and looked around, then she stopped her gaze before looking away after giving a nod.

you looked around but can't seem to find anyone. "was that glenn?" you asked her, your brows furrowed in confusion.

"no, take care at the stables. scream for help if anything happens." she said, care and worry evident in her voice.

"okay! i'm going to check out nervous nelly, i need to ease her nerves." you tried to joke and maggie rolled her eyes with a smile.

"careful." she warned one last time, you nodded and took a few steps back, waving at her happily.

"bye, maggie!" you shouted when she was far enough. she nodded and finally turned around and started walking to the house.

you turned around and walked to the stables slowly, humming to yourself.

you passed by a campsite rather far than the others, you stopped a bit and analyzed it.

it had squirrels hanging around a line and a tent that was beside a rock structure.

you walked forward, curiosity winning the best of you. your boots stopped outside the tent.

it was closed and you looked towards the house, which was quite far from here.

you heard grunts and moans inside suddenly making you wonder if it was one of your neighbors before the turn.

you kneeled by the soft green grass, your dress covering your knees from the rocks and dirts that may stick to your knees.

"hello?" you asked and waited for a response, then right after there was a string of curses.

then the tent opened, you stood up and took a few steps back for safety.

then a man came out, probably a lot older than you. he then scowled when he saw you.

"are you with mr. grimes?" you asked him politely and walked near him.

he didn't answer so you frowned, was he mute or deaf? you can't tell but you were sure he was very bothered with your presence.

you suddenly felt embarrassed, he was probably sleeping and you woke him up, at least you saved him from his nightmares, right?

"i'm sorry, did i wake you up?" you asked as you were the type of girl who really wants to know everything.

"doesn't matter." he grunted and you smiled, so he wasn't deaf or mute at all!

"i thought you were a walker 'cause you were groaning..." you confessed shyly.

his face turns red and looks away from you, why was he embarrassed? it isn't embarrassing to have nightmares, even you still have nightmares.

"was it nightmares? even though it isn't night anymore..." you asked him, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

he took a few seconds before hesitantly nodding, you spot a log near him and walked towards it, sitting.

"i have nightmares too, you don't have to be embarrassed about it. it's totally normal." you comforted him, squinting your eyes at him as you smiled.

"how'd ye end up here? isn't your daddy gon' come crazy lookin for ya?" he asked in a mocking manner.

"no, i told maggie that i'll be checking the stables for nelly, she's always nervous..." you said as you scratched your neck.

"the stables tha' way." he told you pointing at the stables, a bit of a distance from him.

"yeah, i know. i've lived here all my life." you told him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"so why are ye here?" he asked, you shook your head at him.

"i was just curious who stayed here, it's so far from the others. are you being bullied? do you want me to tell dadd—" you rambled.

"nah, i jus' like my space. no nosy neighbor or anythin'." he admitted.

"okay, i'll get going, i just check up on you." you smiled at him and stood up from the log.

he grunted in response, you turned around to walk to the stables but stopped.

you turned to face him again, you caught eye contact with him.

"wait! what's your name?" you asked him, eyebrows furrowed in curiousity once again.

"daryl... dixon." he told you, still hesitantly, as always.

"okay! i'll come visit you tomorrow mr. dixon!" you said cheerfully.

you waved at him, a bright smile on your face. you turned around and continued your way to your original destination.

you can feel his stare burning through your back but you ignored it, was he so angry he was burning holes into you?

"daddy? who's been shot?" you asked as you went down the stairs rubbing your eyes.

your sister, beth, woke you up and said that someone has been shot, only a graze in the head and your daddy's already fixed it.

"who told you?" maggie asked as she handed you your cup of coffee, you took it with a smile and a good morning.

"beth, she woke me up." you said and maggie nodded.

"it's daryl." maggie responded to you for your father, seeing that her dad, your dad, who is also beth's dad is busy checking the medication stock.

"the one near the barn?" you asked her as you took a sip of the coffee, taking a seat on the counter as you played with the hem of your night dress.

"i guess so." maggie replied, finishing off her bread. then you remembered something.

"hey, where's my chick?" you asked her, jumping off the counter and scanning the cupboards for the eggs, ready to take one.

"what chick?" your dad butted in, having finished with checking the stocks.

"maggie told me yes, daddy." you quickly defended, still not explaining.

"told her she could keep an egg to raise, as long as she keeps it alive." maggie said.

you beamed at your daddy, plastering on your most charming and pleading eyes.

"you know i can't say no to you." your dad chuckled and shook his head.

"i know, daddy." you hugged him as he kissed the top of your head, ruffling it.

"are you coming with beth, maggie, patricia and jim for gun training?" your dad asked as you backed away from the hug.

"i don't feel like it today, daddy... not after beth interrupted my sleep." you glanced at your younger sister, teasing her.

"alright." he said with a huff, making you pout.

"is that okay with you, daddy?" you asked him for permission, he nodded once again.

"that's alright with me." he said, you smiled at him as you got back to your coffee.

"who's the ones staying behind?" you asked your older sister as you swing your legs back and forth.

"just you and daddy." she said, glancing out the window a little longer than a second.

"okay." you shrugged.

she glanced out the window again and kept on repeating it, making you worried for her.

"are you alright, do you see any walkers?" you asked her as you went near the window to take a glance.

she tried to stop you but it was already too late, you had already seen it.

"oh." you said and smiled at her, it was glenn having breakfast with the others who were living outside their house.

"you're so whipped for him, did something happen between you?" you asked her as you took a step back.

she turned red and avoided your gaze, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"did he hurt you?" you immediately asked your older sister as you were worried for her.

she shook her head, placing her empty cup on the sink.

"okay. i think i'll go check up on mr. dixon." you told her as you finished the rest of your coffee, placing it down on the counter.

she nodded and waved you off, you smiled and took a few steps back, before turning around and rushing upstairs.

you scanned the first guest room and saw that there was no one, so you closed it.

you took a few steps towards the second door and knocked on it softly.

you opened the door and found the man you were looking for, you smiled at him as he glanced at you.

"how are you feeling?" you asked as you walked towards him, gently closing the door behind you.

you sat at the side of the bed as you checked him, he looked pretty bruised.

you let the back of your hand feel his temperature, he flinched but didn't say anything else.

"as shitty as i look." he responded as he gazed up the ceiling, ignoring the aching pain in his head.

"i'm sure andrea didn't mean it, she thought you were one of them so she tried to shoot you to protect everyone else in this camp." you explained to him what you see in the situation.

he grunted, "sure she didn't." you frowned and nodded then gazed around the room.

"this is my favorite room." you told him as you analyzed him, from the bandages on his head to the dirts on his face and tattoos on his muscular chest.

"you've got two rooms?" he asked rather harshly, he can't blame himself as he's grown to always share things and the girl in front of him has two rooms.

"no, silly. i like to stay here when i'm feeling sad... i love the view by that window, you should check it before you guys find sophia and leave..." you smiled at him, the smile never faltering.

"ya want us to leave already?" he asked and you turned red, embarrassed.

"n—no! i kind of love having you guys here, it's not boring as before..." you told him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"jus' teasin' ye." he smirked at you, making you sighed out in relief.

"what's your job before all of this?" you asked him as you put the rest of your body up the bed.

you crawled over to the head of the bed and laid your back against the headboard.

"what ye doin'?" he asked as he watched your every movement, you can feel his heated gaze at your skin.

"i'm sitting..." you stated the obvious and he groaned, deciding to let it go.

"so what's your job?" you asked him as you reached out to touch his hair.

he snapped his eyes at you making you giggle and pull away from him, pretending to do something else.

"jus' everything, as long as it gives money." he stated, his voice cold making you feel guilty.

it must have been bad memories and you had the audacity to bring it up.

"sorry, i didn't know it was a sensitive topic to you." you admitted as you laid down the bed.

you still kept a fair distance between the both of you as you laid in your back.

you turned to your side, facing him as he was still facing the ceiling.

"it wasn't." he argued making you nod, not truly believing the two words coming out of his mouth.

"have you had breakfast?" you asked him as you gazed at his side profile.

"'m not hungry." he told you, you still didn't believe him. you sat up and slide down the bed, getting on your feet.

"i'll make you something to eat." you told him as you smiled, walking towards the door, opening it as you went outside and closing it.

once you went outside to make him something to eat, he immediately darted his hand at his chest, breathing heavily.

"fuck." he cursed as he can feel his jeans tightening. he tried to shift it but failed miserably.

he had to make this quick if he doesn't want you to notice when you come back, or catch him on the act.

he shifted slightly, going up the bed and sitting up, back against the headboard.

he feels guilty, he wants to stop himself as he's having forbidden thoughts about you.

he was almost caught by you yesterday when you went to his little campsite.

he was jerking off, to the thought of you. he felt an invisible string of attraction when he saw you when they first arrived.

he loved the way you smiled at each one of them even though you hardly knew them.

he loved you in your cute dresses, almost as if teasing him with the below knee length.

everything you did had a meaning to him, with you going to check up on him and laying in bed with him.

he absolutely loved the feeling of your hand on his forehead when you checked his temperature.

call him obsessed but he grabbed the part of comforter you sat on.

he brought it to his face, sniffing it and immediately relaxing to the smell of you.

to the smell of honey and candy. he hates sweet smells but when it comes to you, he's totally head over heels for it.

he slowly unbuckled his belt and took it off, shifting with the buttons of his jeans as he slipped the zipper off.

he lifted his hips slightly as he lowered his jeans just below the butt.

he grabbed his semi-hard cock as he groaned just when he touched it.

he tried thinking of other things, imagining two people having sex or the pornographic photos merle showed him.

but his mind left drifting back to you, you and your cute dresses that had no intentions of teasing him ever intentionally.

the way you bent over to pick eggs from the chicken coop, showing a little bit of your legs.

he felt like a victorian man seeing some ankles, but instead he saw your legs.

it's not much but he gets a hard on when he glances at your milky white legs.

he raised his hand up and down as he threw his head back, he imagined the way your pretty little mouth would fit his cock in.

he could tell he would have a hard time fitting it in, if ever you and him happened.

he can picture you being a moaning mess beneath him as you cried his name in pleasure.

you, begging him to go faster as your nearing, you, clenching the sheets as you come all over his cock.

the way your breasts would wiggle when he thrusts into you from above and from behind.

he can see the way your cunt hugs around his cock as he had a hard time thrusting in.

but due to the pre-cum from both of you he will start having it easy but still hard due to your tight cunt.

he kept pumping his cock on his hand as he raised his hips, he then imagined fucking you over the window as you glanced at the beautiful view outside.

he stifled a moan when he moved his hands faster, then after a few seconds his hands was covered with his warm white liquid.

he could hear a slight shuffle as he wiped his hands on the towel on the bedside table, he stuffed his cock back in his jeans, fastening it and buckling his belt back.

he wiped his hands on the comforter, if it ever had any liquid left then covered half of his body with the comforter.

then just a minute later, the door opened, revealing you carrying a tray with a bright smile.

"here, coffee and bacon..." you placed the tray beside him as you took a chair and sat next to him.

"y'want?" he asked as he chewed on the bacon, you shook your head.

"daddy is busy, he's busy with carl." you told him as you stood up from the chair, going to one of the cupboard.

"so what?" he asked as he took a sip of his coffee, still chewing on the bacon.

"i'll be your nurse today, isn't that great? i'll get to know you more, mr. dixon." you smiled at him, turning your head back as you rummaged through the things inside.

you grabbed a roll of bandage and a few ointments for him, "better." he whispered under his breath as he tried to avert his eyes from the way your dress rose every time you stood on your tippy toes to reach inside the cupboard.

"i'll change your bandages, they must be covered in your blood." you told him as you closed the cupboard, going back to sit at the chair beside him.

"you should finish that first and i'll give you pain killers." you told him as he nodded, drinking the rest of his coffee.

he set the tray aside as you popped open the organizer, giving him a pain killer.

he took it and drank it with the water you brought earlier, you started assisting him to sitting up straighter.

you slowly took off his bandage as you looked across his back, "it's beautiful." you assured him when he tried to shift away from your touch.

"no scars are beautiful." he argued, hating that you lied to him to make him feel better.

"well, yours are. it shows that you survived that stage of life. i like your tattoos too, does it hurt?" you asked him as you wiped his back.

"when ye get 'em, and fer the first few weeks." he responded with a grunt as you stopped cleaning his back.

"i don't think i'll find someone who still does tattoos." you squint your eyes as you started opening the cap of the ointment.

you applied some to his side gently as he flinched every now and then.

"trust me, ye don't wanna get one." he groaned as he flinched away from your touch.

you pulled away from him as you placed the cap back of the ointment.

you took the bandage, "okay, tell me if it's too tight." you said as you looked at him.

he looked away before he could think about anything else dirty on your sentence.

he simply nodded and raised his arms a bit as you wrapped your arms around him.

you placed the end of the bandage on his back as you circled the bandage, wrapping him.

your touch burned him but he didn't dare say anything else, he simply enjoyed the feelings of your small hands on him.

you finished wrapping his torso in bandage, you set it aside as you sealed the bandage.

"i-i... saw you earlier." you admitted, cheeks red as you stared at the bed.

"w-what?" he stuttered, hoping that you didn't catch him masturbating and moaning your name.

"you were s-saying my name... and you were touching the thing here." you pointed at his bulge as you looked at his eyes.

your blush darkened when you made eye contact with him, his eyes darkened as he looked at your flustered form.

"i... was just trying to make my pain go away." he lied as he looked away from you.

"oh... i learned that, my classmate told me they do that and release a white cream once they feel better." you told him with interest.

"yeah..." he went along as he nodded immediately, he can feel himself growing hard again so he placed a pillow on top.

"are you feeling pain again?" you asked him as your eyes filled with worry.

"y-yeah." he hesitated, she went near him as she touched his forehead.

"i'll make you feel better, daddy told me to take care of you." you sat on the heels of your feet.

"you should." he didn't know where his confidence came from but he used it.

"okay... i-i don't know how to start." you admitted, looking up at him as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"take off my jeans." he told her softly, she followed what he said and soon slipped his jeans off his legs.

"i'll make you feel better, mr. dixon... i promise." you smiled at him reassuringly.

you place two hands to wrap around his angry cock, you stare at it with amusement.

it was your first time seeing one, except for the drawings in schools that's presented in science.

"i-is all this big?" you asked as you can't even wrap a hand on him.

"no, baby." he caressed your jaw as you nodded, you copied his actions moments earlier.

you stroke his cock carefully, watching his face contort into pleasure as he closed his eyes.

"are you starting to feel better, mr. dixon?" you asked as you continued stroking his length.

"yes..." he nodded as he gripped the headboards, opening his eyes to see you looking at him with a smile.

you continued moving your hand up and down as he held back a quiet moan, in case hershel heard.

his cock twitched as you stared at it weirdly, it's veins were more prominent and his tip is red.

he was most likely ten inches long or maybe more, he was very thick.

"it feels good... baby." he moaned as he thrust his cock into your hand.

"tell me once you feel better, okay?" you asked him as you stroked him faster.

his cock twitches one more time before his cum rushes down and drips down your hand.

he moaned heavily as he panted, coming down from his high.

"i did it! i made you feel better!" you exclaimed in happiness, not really minding the white liquid covering your hand.

"yes, baby. you did." he smiled as he ruffles your hair, he had an idea as he bit his lips.

"you need to drink my white cream, you might have been infected and that white cream is like a medicine." he said without an ounce of guilt.

you stared at him weirdly once again as he nodded encouragely at you.

you nodded and bent down to face his lower abdomen, you licked his stomach and upper leg as you tried to kick every of his cum that you see.

you also looked at him as you licked your hand, you sucked one of your fingers into your mouth, pulling it out then the other one.

he groaned and almost cum again without contact, just the sight of you like that or even just with your hands on him can almost make him cum.

"it... tastes weird." you told him truthfully as you fidgeted with your fingers.

"what's that? you know that is very disrespectful?" he told you as your eyes went wide.

"i—i didn't know, i'm sorry..." you told him quickly as you shifted.

"you should be grateful for whatever i give you, 'ight?" he held your chin as he studied every inch of your face.

"y—yes." you nodded slowly, completely submitting to him, he smiled at that.

daryl patted your head as he lifted you into his lap, you shifted on top of him comfortably as you looked at his eyes.

he groaned when his tip came in contact with your clothed cunt.

"you feel good, baby?" he asked when you grind onto him for unknown reasons to you.

you nodded as he held your hips to stop you from moving any further.

you felt bliss when his tip was just touching your cunt, you have to feel more.

you want to feel more of him, you want to feel good and you also want him to feel good.

"use your words, sweetheart." he let out a low groan as his grip tightens on your hip.

you whimpered as you tried to form a proper sentence without stuttering or stumbling with your words.

"y—yes, mr. dixon." you nodded as you tried to fight his grip by moving to grind onto him.

"no, baby..." he told you, he scolded you as if you're a little girl who needs a punishment.

"you can't call me, mr... if you want me to make you feel good." he slowly talked to you, like talking to a little girl.

you nodded, "what should i call you? what will i call you?" you asked him as you try to grind onto him.

"daryl..." he teased you, moaning slightly as he said his own name.

you blushed as you took in his name, "daryl." you tried and looked at his eyes.

"it would be weird, da... daddy would be mad if he knew i called an older person by their name, he told me to always be respectful..." you told him what hershel taught you.

"well, your daddy doesn't have to know." he told you as he caressed your hips by his thumb.

"i... can't keep secrets." you told him, looking up at him. he was a lot taller than you even when he was seated with you on his lap.

"well, you have to... or else your daddy and i will be mad at you, do you want that?" he asked as he tapped his thumb onto your hips.

"no... i don't want someone mad at me." you shook your head as you looked down.

you blushed when you saw his erected cock, his tip was touching your clothed cunt.

your dress has lifted a bit when he sat you on his lap, the dress was in your hips, showing your legs and underwear.

"then let's keep this a secret, 'ight?" he leaned closer, pressing his tip into you harder.

you whimpered and nodded your head, he softened his grip on your hips as you stayed in place.

"a-are we going to do sex?" you asked him as you placed your hands on his chest. you played with his chest as you looked back and up at him.

"no, baby. we're going to make love." daryl told you, his eyes glinting with mischief.

"but we don't love each other." you told him sheepishly as you looked back at his chest. you admired his tattoos in awe as you traced them softly.

"i love you, and you will love me back after this." he told you firmly as he caressed your hair.

"o—kay..." you said, believing him. your daddy told you to always open your heart.

he leaned in and placed his lips onto yours, you blushed as you didn't know what to do.

you closed your eyes as he kissed you, he placed his grip onto your waist.

he kissed you softly as he bit your lip, you whimpered in pain as he took it as an opportunity to enter his tongue in.

you unconsciously put your arms around his neck as you started to follow his movements.

you tried to kiss him back as you moaned when he sucked on your lower lip.

you were almost embarrassed for the sounds you were making as he kissed you.

you grind your hips onto him unconsciously as you kissed, he sucked on your tongue and lower lip every now and then.

he let you grind your hips into him as you whimpered, you felt good and you want more.

"i-i'm sorry, daryl... but, i want more." you started after you pulled away from him, you tried to also catch your breath.

you were sorry because he just told you earlier how disrespectful it is to not appreciate what you were given.

he smirked and caressed your waist and hair, "you do? what do you want?"

"i feel good, but i want to feel more good..." you told him as you pouted and looked into his eyes.

"do you want daryl in your princess part?" he told you as you nodded, you didn't know what princess part is but you just nodded.

"do you know what that is?" he asked you, you shook your head shyly.

he let out a low chuckled as he let go of your hair he let his hands wander between your thighs as you whimpered.

he caressed it, "this is your princess part, baby." he told you, you didn't say anything as you whimpered, trying to grind onto his hand.

"that's my vagina..." you told him as you so desperately tried grinding onto him.

"no, it's princess part for you, 'right?" he said and slapped your princess part.

you whimpered and nodded, "it's my princess part." you told him as he grinned.

"how bad do you want it, sweetheart?" he asked as he slowly took off your panties.

"so... bad." you whined as you got off his lap and took off your own panties.

you got back on his lap, sitting directly on his cock as you moaned softly.

he teased your entrance as he slid his cock up and down your slit.

"you ready?" he asked and you nodded slowly, you were nervous, it was your first time.

you can't think about anything else, you didn't care if your daddy will get angry if he found out.

you just want daryl, you want to feel good and make love with him.

"i-i'll get pregnant..." you told him worriedly as you placed your hands on his shoulder.

he didn't respond and you gulped, he turned your positions so he was on top of you.

"so wet already?" he tapped his tip into your slit as he teased you.

you nodded, you can feel the wetness on your leg dripping down earlier.

it wasn't the first time you felt like that... you felt it whenever you catch maggie watching pornographic movies.

you felt guilty and confused why you got wet when you also watched the movie secretly.

you immediately went into your room that night and just slept it off.

daryl adjusted his cock into your entrance as he slowly slid in, you gasped in pain as you gripped onto his shoulders.

"daryl... i-i can't, it hurts." you cried as a tear slid down your face.

"it's okay, baby... it's just for a minute or so, everyone experiences this on their first time, it's normal." he told you, wiping your tears.

you nodded and sniffled, it was the truth, you heard your female classmates talking about their first time hurting.

but what isn't normal is the size of daryl's cock, it was beyond the average size.

it added to the pain you were feeling, you felt stretched out even if it was just his tip in you.

you closed your eyes in pain when he pushed a part of him in again. you took deep breaths and tried to calm your self.

"it still hurts..." you told him softly, opening your eyes and looking at him.

he felt a tug at his heart when you looked at him and when he looked at your eyes.

daryl wiped your tears again as he shush you. "it's okay, it'll hurt even more when i pull out."

you pouted but nodded, you wanted this too so you just have to suck it up.

he pushed another part of him in and you just whispered to yourself.

"why are you so big... i—is that normal?" you asked him, glaring at the ceiling.

he just chuckled, he whispered something incoherently to you before pushing the rest of his length in.

"dar—" you shouted in pain but he put his hand onto your mouth, he wiped your tears.

"it's okay..." he slowly told you as he pulled out just to go back in.

you can feel the sudden shift of emotions, you moaned in pleasure and pain the fifth time he slammed into you.

"feels good?" he asked you as he pounded into you, gently then roughly.

"daryl..." you moaned loudly as he pumped in and out, you whimpered.

"stay quiet, your daddy will hear ye'." he whispered to your ear.

you bit down on your lip to stop your loud moans, that even porn models would be jealous of.

daryl loved your moans but it was what would get the both of you caught.

he looked down where both of you meet, your cunt was better than he dreamt of.

your cunt was hugging his cock so tight that his imagination would be so ashamed.

"daryl..." you moaned lowly as he continued his pace, you kissed him as he roughly pumped into you.

"this princess part is mine, got it?" he asked as he slowed his pace.

"daryl— faster!" you bit your lip as you begged him to pick up his pace again.

"got it?" he asked and you nodded, "words, sweetheart." he whispered into your ear.

"yes... it's yours! please— daryl..." you moaned softly as he fastened his pace again.

he can feel you clench around him and he started slowing down just to go faster.

"i-i feel something weird on my tummy... daryl!" you moaned as you squirmed.

"let it out, baby... cum on my cock." he told you as you both can only hear the sound of sound slapping against each other.

you did as he told and let it out, whatever you were feeling on your stomach..

you came as daryl continued pounding onto your cunt relentlessly.

"i would make love to you from day to night if it wasn't your first time, baby..." he whispered.

you were feeling so sensitive that every time he came in contact with your princess part, you messily moaned.

"i-i feel it again..." you said quickly, it hasn't even been a minute since your last release.

daryl was so quick and rough that you came once again, you whimpered as daryl groaned and growled into your ears.

"i'm coming, baby." he muttered under his breath, "i'm cumming inside you."

"i-i'll get pregnant—" you tried to say but was interrupted by your own moan.

you tried protesting but he whispered soft things to your ear.

"i'll take care of you both..." he assured you as he fastened his pace.

"i'll keep stuffing my babies into you so you can never be taken away from me..." he told you.

you nodded, it was a promising life. it was your dream to have your own family someday.

you didn't know if your daddy would be happy with having a grandchild already.

"i'll show the boys interested to you that you're mine and you're carrying my baby..." he moaned.

"y-yes! okay..." you nodded as he thrust into you, you felt attracted to him and you thought it was enough to start a family of your own with him.

you didn't know again what your daddy would feel if you had a family of your own before your older sister, maggie.

"fuck... 'm goin' to cum inside ye'." he told you and his thrust turn sloppy as you can feel warm liquid gush into you.

you whimpered softly as he pulled out his cock. he was still hard even if you were already done.

you can feel your own cum mixed with daryl's cum trickle out of you slowly.

you tried to catch your breath as you pulled down your dress.

"i love ye'..." daryl whispered to you as he stuffed his cum back into you.

you didn't respond and closed your eyes, laying your head on the soft pillow.

you can feel a bit of guilt and regret that you let him cum inside you.

you started to doubt if it was a good idea to let him cum inside you.

you weren't even sure if you were ready to start a family as sure as you were earlier.

"i—i... don't think i want a child at this time..." you told him innocently and softly.

you can't imagine raising a child during an apocalypse where every breath you make is a risk.

"you can't do anything about it... i already came inside you, you're going to carry our child, hm?" he hugged you as he caressed your hair.

you didn't know what to do.

[katzkinder]

Hi yes hello I’m feeling so very emotional about the relationship between Servamps and subclass

It’s like

You gave us a chance

You gave us a place to be

This life that was forfeit became worth something, because you reached out your hand

The subclass we see adore their Servamps, whether they’re deeply involved in their lives or not.

The Servamps aren’t gods

They’re people.

Regular humans given extraordinary power.

And perhaps that’s why so many subclass are so… Devoted

What did you see in me. How lucky am I, that you were there when I needed you. I want to repay you. I want to live for you.

I want to make you proud of me

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Despite how you may view yourself and your existence… To me, there is worth.

You are here for this very reason. And so am I.

It’s something beautiful. From little Kate, who took her happy memories with her into the sky, to Gil and Ray, who infiltrated an organization dedicated to their oppression for the sake of the woman who saved them, to Bad B and Good B, who live to serve, to Sagami, who lives to love

Every subclass who is given a name has been given the opportunity to show, even if just a little bit, the gratitude they have towards the ones who gave them life.

Team M most of all.

Because what greater act of love is there than to save someone when they refuse to save themselves

Servamp is an unbearably kind story. As it comes to a close, I’m happier than ever I got to experience it over so many years

[youronlydarlin]

warning: U die again, sorry :(, Johnny is very sad

Jus' thinkin bout Johnny during your funeral :(

He's unnervingly quiet, head tilted down, refusing to look at your open casket on the side of the room. There's beautiful blooming flowers surrounding it, and he knew you would've taken your time to admire them, maybe even name the ones you knew.

His team is here, to pay their respects, and to give condolences. Johnny remembers the words of comfort they offered him. Even ghost gave him a pat on the shoulder, shortly followed with a polite nod.

He couldn't stand it all, the pitiful stares he got from everybody. The 'sorry's, and 'condolences only reminded him that a funeral was held. Your funeral was being held, and no amount of sunny day's he has will ever be enough to cover the warmth, and light you've let in to his life.

You were his sun.

What is he to do, now that the sky is mourning you as well? The cloud pours rain so harshly to the ground as if it's also angry at the loss of your presence.

Where was the future you both promised each other? The future with the white picket fence, and a beautiful view overlooking the sea. He'd spend his time sketching it, while you tend to your garden. The happy married life he'd always dreamed off. Where was it?

Where were you?

The only thing he has is his head in his hands. Sitting down on your shared bed with one of your shirts in his lap. Not long after he's holding onto it, sobbing. He knew how much you hated seeing him cry, so maybe if he doesn't stop then you'll come back. He's nuzzling his face into shirt, and using your sleeves to dry at his tears. It makes him feel like it's you wiping them away.

a/n: UHHH, this was bad, but m' literally trying to squeeze as much content as I can from my body because my classes are gonna prevent me from posting as much. M' sorry ,my loves. Remember to always take care of yourself, drink your water, babes!

Yours, truly,

-dolly

[kissingghouls]

From the prompts you posted…how about “are you ok?” with Phantom. Maybe a sibling finds a newly summoned Phantom wandering around in the middle of the night and they’re worried about him.

Anon, this was such a lovely idea and I am so so SO happy for this to be my very first prompt. 💜💜💜

Couch Club

Phantom x GN!Reader FLUFF and a dash of comfort. 1k words.

The abbey was always a strange place, but its creepiness increased tenfold in the dead of night. The haze of incense hung in the long, dark hallways like a fog that would never clear. It seeped into every inch of the grounds, riding on the echoes of rhythmic chants from the chapel and settling like a fine dust on the portraits of Papas past. The shadows seemed to multiply, collecting in corners until they appeared as solid shapes. One could never be sure if something might emerge from the darkness, but the shadows usually stayed shadows. Usually.

Sleepily you padded down the hall with your favorite blanket wrapped tight around your shoulders. Insomnia was a special kind of hell—and not the fun one where things you were familiar with resided. It was a Sisyphean prison you were used to, but that didn’t make it any less annoying when all you wanted to do was go to bed. Instead, you haunted the hallways as usual, searching for something to occupy your over-active brain. The library was too far and probably locked after the last time a certain Papa had left an unbelievable mess in there after hours. The kitchens were too noisy and full of Siblings who would shoo you out of the way while they prepared baked goods for the entire abbey. Sometimes you would hang around the gardens and stare up at the sky while giving the stars new names, but it was far too cold out for that tonight.

You pushed your way into the common room, the heavy door groaning loud enough behind you to wake the dead. There was a corner of the sofa that you found particularly comfortable on nights like these, a little space you had claimed once upon a time and had fallen asleep in more than once.

As a tired yawn ripped through your body as you shuffled toward your tiny empire. A figure sat up and turned toward you in the dark, sending you stumbling backward over your blanket with a horrified scream. You landed with a crash, banging your elbow on the snack machine on the way down. It spit peanut M&Ms at you as the figure jumped over the back of the sofa, spewing a stream of apologies.

“Wha? Phantom?” you asked as the light from the hallway touched his face. The newly summoned ghoul offered you a sheepish smile. He hadn’t been around long, but the two of you had managed to become friendly in that short time, bonding over your collective love of old monster movies.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again as he lifted you from the floor. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here.”

“I didn’t either,” you added with a laugh, trying to rub that awful feeling out of your elbow.

“I—I’m sorry I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled and brushed past you.

“Hey,” you called softly after him. “You don’t have to leave. I’m pretty sure there’s room for both of us.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can find somewhere else to be.”

“Phantom? Are you ok?”

He forced a smile. “Yeah, sure. Well…no. I don’t know. It’s ok.”

You reached for his hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Can I help?”

He stared down at your hand in his, flexing his fingers and gently closing them around yours again. “You’re warm.”

“Am I?” you asked with a laugh.

“Yeah. It’s nice, you know?” He shook his head and swiped at his face. “Ugh, of course you don’t. I’m sorry, it’s just—I can’t get warm up here and the fire ghouls kick too much to try to sleep in one of their rooms. And everyone says I’ll get used to it eventually, but…no luck yet.”

You couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants, and the thickest pair of socks you’d ever seen. “Not even with those?”

He shook his head. “Mountain made these for me. He said they should help, but they kind of just make my feet sweat.”

You scrunched up your face. “That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, so…anyway shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“Oh, I have trouble sometimes, so I come down here instead.”

“Does it help?”

“Most nights,” you replied with a shrug. “There’s something about that sofa that just works, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll uh get out of your way then.”

You cleared your throat nervously. “I’m pretty sure the sofa is big enough for both of us if you want to try it out.”

He couldn’t hide the little spark of magic in his eyes as they lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I get that corner though,” you told him, pointing to the space you liked.

“I think can live with that.”

“And don’t even think about putting your sweaty feet on me,” you warned.

He laughed and promised to keep his feet to himself as you both settled on the sofa. Limbs bumped in awkward positions followed by whispered apologies and tiny, embarrassed laughs. After several minutes and many different variations, you and the ghoul finally got comfortable under your blanket. He curled up against you, tangling his legs with yours as you draped an arm around his middle. The two of you began to fall asleep almost instantly, wrapped around each other in a way that finally allowed Phantom to feel warmth.

In the morning you found yourselves mostly in the same position, bodies pressed together so closely there was enough room for Rain to sit at the other end of the sofa. He shot you a little wave and went back to focusing on his cereal as Phantom groaned against your shoulder.

“I don’t want to be awake yet,” he whined and held you a little tighter. “I haven’t slept that well since I got here.”

“Glad I could help,” you managed through a yawn.

“Yes, thank you.” He followed up with a yawn of his own. “Whadda ya say we do this again sometime?”

[searchingsomewhere]

All Too Well: Cursed Narrative, 1

{"Your silhouette is burned in my memory. Rubble left from the moment that you left me."}

Rating: M (CW will be at the start of each chapter)

Here it is! Thank you, everyone, for reading the sequel to All too Well. For new readers, you don't technically need to read All too Well, but it will definitely help with context. Enjoy!

poly!Gojo x OC x Geto

@reiluvr @lalavender-sama @dei-lijla ilysm, thank you so much for reading!

Summers in Japan were known to be hot and humid. For school-aged children and teenagers, it was the time of year to play with friends, to go out and shop and spend days watching the clouds roll by. For Jujustu Sorcerers, it was the least busy season of the year.

In an apartment building in Tokyo, a young woman stood at the kitchen sink with a blue flip phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. Long, dark hair fell past her shoulders, green eyes darting around the sink as she washed dishes. The v neck of her blouse teased a glimpse of a scar running down her chest. A slender black cane was propped against the cabinet next to her.

"...It's complicated, dad," she said, switching from Japanese to English, "He comes from a very old family, so stuff like that isn't like how it is in the States."

"You've been together for five years, Miho, how complicated could it be?" Her father's tone was surprisingly light, "Don't you think it's odd to adopt before you're even married?"

"It's not really adoption. And we're not 'together'."

"That must be why he comes over every year for the holidays."

Miho rolled her eyes. "He's my best friend, and he doesn't like his family, so that's why-"

"Well, no matter what you kids call it, I don't care as long as you're happy," his voice trails off, as if he were leaning away from the phone. "I have to go, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you, too. Be safe."

"I will. Say hi to Suguru for me."

Miho paused, hands stilling under the sudsy water. That name echoed in her head. Her bracelet glittered in the sunlight. Brown, green, and blue. She swallowed thickly, resuming her scrubbing.

"Satoru, Dad."

"Oh, jeez, what did I call him?" His embarrassed chuckle made her smile. "Don't mind your old man."

After the conversation was over, Miho dried her hands off on the towel by the sink. She watched the neighborhood children ride their bikes down the street. It was exceptionally sunny and beautiful out. The sky was crystal blue. It reminded her of someone.

Slow hands gripped her waist from behind, sliding around to pull her back against a broad chest. Miho sighed and leaned her head back. Satoru's white hair tickled her cheek as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing out a slow content hum.

"You smell good," he said close to her ear.

"You're here early," she said, turning to face him. Her hands instinctively slid up to loop around the back of his neck.

The white haired man smiled down at her. He was almost a head taller than her, surprisingly soft features framed by a mop of white hair. His eyes were a fantastic shade of light, light blue. Miho hadn't noticed in the years they'd known each other just how much he'd grown from a cute teenage boy. At twenty-three years old, Satoru Gojo was an incredibly attractive young man.

"I just got a call from the adoption agency," he said, his smile breaking into a grin.

"And?" Miho gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

"As of today, I have full legal guardianship over the kids," he announced, "The Zenin can't do shit to Megumi."

Miho squealed and threw her hands around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He laughed, kissing the side of her head.

"That's incredible! How did you do it? I thought you had to be twenty-five," she said, pulling away.

Satoru rolled his eyes, "Yeah, but I just kinda talked them into it. Perks of being a Gojo."

Miho gave him a deadpan look. She knew better than that. He only grinned harder and distracted her with peppered kisses down her neck. Miho laughed and struggled against him.

"You mean 'threatened'?" she said between giggles.

"I would never," he gasped, feigning hurt. "But forget about that. Let's go get the kids!"

His hand fit perfectly in hers. Miho grabbed her cane while he grabbed her purse from the couch.

They had successfully played this game of pretend the last five years. At first, the two had tried dating. It wasn't long until the higher administration heard about that, and the drama that ensued caused them to separate. As soon as everyone caught wind that the only heir to one of the most powerful clans in Japan was interested in pursuing someone, Satoru was hounded with questions about getting married and having children. That didn't stop them from seeing each other in private.

Miho smiled at the back of his head. Part of her mourned the relationship they should have been able to have. The other was just glad to have him by her side after all these years.

-----

A woman was rushing through the crowded street. She tightly gripped the arm of a little girl, pulling her along. The dark haired ten year old could barely keep up. She kept tripping over her legs. The woman huffed and yanked her forward still.

"Where are we going?" the little girl demanded.

"Quiet, Daiki," the woman hissed, "There's a monk here who will heal you of your affliction."

"I'm not-"

"Shut up. If your mother knew any better, she would have had you sent away a long time ago."

Daiki closed her mouth abruptly, averting her gaze to the ground. The grip on her arm was painful and sure to leave bruises later.

The two approached a temple. Its pristine, bright white marble pillars reflected the sunlight. Daiki squinted and held up her hand to block the sun.

"Be quiet when Mr. Geto speaks. Let me talk," the woman insisted. "Let's go."

Part 2

[seethesunny]

Prompt: Joel/Tess on a date but Sarah (knows Tess and adores her) doesn’t know yet that they’re dating, catches them at the movies or at the mall. Something innocent and adorable yet very smoochy!

It's been a while since I got this but this prompt was lovely! Happy belated birthday @bignosebushybrows and hopefully you had an amazing day ❤ and fingers crossed you like it:

When her uncle barged loudly inside their house, calling her downstairs and immediately showing her the keys of the car looped around his finger with a flashy grin, Sarah hadn’t thought much of it. Really, she would, over all things sacred, hate it if someone else had been entrusted to watch over her. 

But uncle Tommy was fun and, hopefully her daddy wouldn’t know if she lowered the voice inside her head just a little; Sarah liked going on with him because he let her do things on her own. 

Now, she did love her dad. More than she could try to put into words, more than she could ever describe, more than the countless stars that adorned the countryside sky when they visited the old ranch where they grew up. However, she was growing older, and there was so much freedom a girl of her age could get under the vigilance of her parents. And she had long gotten used to her daddy being overprotective, it was for her own good, and there was truth to it sometimes.

Tommy rolled the windows down and clicked on the radio, humming along, and she beamed on the passenger side.

Yet she liked this, and it wouldn’t do her harm. At the end of the day, there was someone supervising her, and Sarah understood her own limits and what risks she could encounter. 

“You gotta try the new arcade.” He said, messing up her hair, laughing at her scoff.

She couldn’t stop smiling, having talked long enough about that with her friends over the phone. 

“Sure will.” She agreed eagerly, wrinkling her nose at him playfully.

“And what are you gonna do while I’m nowhere to be seen? You aren’t gonna be scared, aren’t ya? ” He teased half-heartedly, earning a giggle out of her as he took a turn and drove through the park, a shortcut he always reminded her existed when they went this way. 

“I'm gonna use the money my daddy gave me, buy me some fries.” Sarah shrugged, playing with the bracelet around her wrist. “And you should take out Maria on a real date.” 

Tommy gave her a sidelong glare before staring ahead.

“Uncle, meeting her at the mall only is a disgrace to the Miller’s last name.” Not for the first time Sarah scolded, and Tommy almost put his hands up in surrender. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He joked, elbowing her gently while she frowned, right as they approached the parking lot. “Listen, I promise this is the last time.” 

“It better be.” Sarah gave, that chiding tone the same one she brought out so similar to her dad’s, and then she remarked seriously, elbowing him back. “You should buy her something nice.” 

Maria was a cool, charismatic woman who worked at the cash register in one of the stores—she had forgotten the name now—and her uncle was infatuated. He would use the excuse of taking her to the mall for an ice cream or to shop around, but then he would flirt with her while Sarah looked around, and it became common. 

Right now, her daddy had no clue, and she had zipped her mouth shut. 

Once inside, Sarah counted her money twice as Tommy mocked her without malice, barely disguising his impatience.

Maria’s store popped into view when they took the escalator, and Tommy kissed her forehead to her light-hearted complaint.

“Don’t get too far, ‘kay? And if you need anythin’ you know where to find me. Go have fun, kid.” He squeezed her shoulders, trusting her and letting her acknowledge it as she nodded. 

“Please, bring up the date before we leave!” Sarah exclaimed, waving a hand in the air before disappearing into a bright, big H&M store on her left. 

She took a break at the food court when she got thirsty, all the walking and observing and trying on clothes tiring her some, so she sat close to the cinema entrance and ordered some cinnamon sugar pretzels after drinking her lemonade. Munching on them, Sarah squinted in the fluorescent lights above her head.

It couldn’t be him, right? 

Sarah was sure of one thing: she could recognize her daddy on a crowd, and he just stood out with his physique. And he wasn’t alone! His arm was banded around a woman’s shoulders, leaning on him, and when she saw a glimpse of her face- 

“Ish that Tesh?” She murmured around a mouthful of food, crumbs drizzling around her lips; Sarah brushed them aside, pretzels being set apart as she scanned them thoroughly, not being noticed.

Accidents happened, and she could mistake some random couple; nonetheless, some meters between them couldn’t fuzz out the truth. Sarah leaned on he elbows, attempting to capture more as her daddy whispered something on Tess’s ear, who in turn smacked him gently on the chest and pressed their lips together. Oh, oh, so it was something serious.

Tess had been a constant presence in her life whose encouraging words were always at the ready, who had figuratively taken her under her wing since the first day, who was confident and relaying both—she was friend of the family, had known her for so long. The past summer, she had spent so many hours at their home teaching her how to work with clay, starting with easy things since Sarah was a beginner.

Had she been so blinded by her own joy as to not notice the signs? Tess surely showed up more, and her daddy had been a bit weird, in the sense that he would act differently around her, and once Uncle Tommy picked at him because he called her during work hours… 

Her heart almost leaped out of her chest, the dawning realization sticky like the cinnamon on the pad of her fingers, a gasp spilling out of her lips as they walked towards her seat. 

Sarah froze as there was no way she was exiting without being noticed, clutching a napkin to clean her fingers anxiously and blinking repeatedly at the wait for the inevitable.  

Warm eyes spotted her, their conversation drowned before being completely shut down, and then it was their turn to still like a deer caught in headlights.

Tess’s hands were intertwined with his, and Sarah fixed on it before her gaze darted between them, chewing the inside of her cheek.

The first one to regain her composure was Tess, laughing nervously. “Hey, hi Sarah. Nice to see you here.” 

Sarah rubbed her palms, clasping them together as she locked eyes with her daddy, who looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Uh, baby girl.” He greeted gruffly, strained, but not dropping Tess’s hand at all. “How long have you-” 

“You have some explainin’ to do.” Is what Sarah opted to answer after chosing her words carefully, approaching them openly. 

Tess was the one who tilted her head and offered a relieving, small grin, offering her other hand. “Let’s go for a walk then.” 

Joel sighed heavily and scrubbed at his face with a hand, staring at them both afterward. “‘S a long story, Sarah.” 

“Got nowhere else to be, Daddy! I suspect we’ll be here for a long period of time.” She yelled to jab at them, who shared a quick, fleeting look, giving in easily. “At least you were in good hands.” 

A complicit wink at Tess—they both busted in giggles, he rolled his eyes, and urged them forward.

She wasn’t ready to go home yet.

[deafeningsheeppoetry]

~° Burnout °~

Part I

Synopsis: loving somebody from afar.

Word count: 3.5k

Content warning: none

Luke has always been my friend, not in the I met him before tatooine thing. I met him when he was up in the center, getting his award and i was at the back praying for the ceremony to end,i had patients to treat and take care of

Diane, my friend, was beside me that day grumbling under her breath as she helplessly watched the ceremony in boredom

"is this thing going to go on any longer or something? I got patients waiting for me" she kept whispering to me in an annoyed manner as she kept taping her foot against the hard cold floor

We had a busy day with fighters coming in and out of the medbay,so of course the ceremony was completely useless to us in a manner,it was just an award, nothing more

"i think they'll let us out after they get their awards" i answered as i rubbed my eyes tiredly as i had not gotten any sleep whatsoever.

"Who's even getting the award?" She asked me curiously

"somebody with a solo...and sky something" i answered,i only knew that the sky one just suddenly joined,a risk taker.

"solo is a dumb name" daine scoffed at me

"oh-i think they're here now" i said surprisingly as i heard the door opening,i watched them walk down the aisle as the audience were all looking at both of them.

"holy shit.. the brunette looks pretty hot" daine commented jokingly as she whispered to my ears but I was quietly watching the blonde in the center.

He was absolutely captivating , he had this soft aura around that exudes warmth and kindness and , he was so cute fidgeting with his fingers while he was quietly waiting to receive his award.

"blonde looks nervous.." i mumbled as i completely ignored what daine just whispered to me

"he's a newbie, of course he'll be nervous" daine added as she watched the ceremony. And finally princess leia gave him the medal,he was quite content and happy as well.

"finally.." Diane sighed in relief as the whole audience applauded in cheers and happiness , "let's go?" I asked her, "gosh,of course yes" she answered back as she rolled her eyes at me playfully .

After the ceremony I finally met luke,he introduced himself as Luke Skywalker and that he was from tatooine,he also told me the things that happened and how he saved princess leia (he only did 10% of the job and Leia 90%) i was fascinated with his story and I was curious as well, we talked all night that day just talking about his life,i never spoke about him preferring to keep it private.

After that night we continued to talk whenever I had some free time,Diane wasn't bothered by it,she said that it was good for me to have somebody to talk to since she hated socializing as well saying how talking takes off her energy immediately .

Every night (whenever we could) we would talk about our day and what we did, sometimes it would be about our personal life, family, friends,life at home, childhood, school and our teenage years .

He was so sweet towards me,he would always listen to me rant, his eyes never leaving me for a second .

It had been 2 years since we met,i became very close with him now,I also met his friends,Leia and han, though I don't really see those 2 regularly unlike luke

I was busy as well but I always talked to luke and Diane.

"you're back early" i said as i looked at him surprisingly before calming myself down,he shrugged sheepishly as a small smile broke on his lips

"the mission went smoothly, though that's kinda a first" he said jokingly as he stood besides as i checked some paperwork regarding some of my patients

"by how..?" I asked curiously ,i still haven't looked up from my paperwork

"the ship broke a bit and we were stranded, we were lucky because the planet we went to fix the ship was safe" he explained as he sat besides me

"anyways how have you been?" He asked as he laid his head on my shoulders

"I've been good,why?" I answered as i looked at curiously

"it's nothing,i was just wondering if the medbay is full again" he asked me as he sat up straight

"barely any patients which is good" i answered as sighed softly

"what's wrong?" He said curiously as he looked at with concern

"nothing, the supplies that we need aren't here yet so I'm a bit stressed about it" i mumbled quietly as i laid my head down on my desk

"i heard they encountered some difficulties going here" he said "they're safe don't worry " he added as he gave me a pat on my shoulder

"well doc! you better get to work,I still need to fix my x-wing" he said jokingly as he messed my hair up

"hey, Stop that!" I said angrily as i rolled my eyes

"you'll live doc" he joked as he waved at me goodbye

°Author's Note°

Ka puta mga sis, anyways hello,it's been like what,5 months since I stopped posting, first of all I am very sorry about that, writers block really hits me hard,and of course school, last school year I had more freedom writing since I'm not as busy unlike this school year,and plus school really drains you too,I had 0 motivation writing or even think of a story idea since my brain was just fried and being fuck around, anyways this past 5 months suck, been trying my best not to scream about it or gauge my eyes out,part 2 will be out soon! Since I don't really have anything to do and just have to worry about a few things,a few lectures here and there, anyways if anybody is wondering if this story is kinda similar to something well it's because it's inspired by I'm drunk,I love you , absolutely love that movie,i cried so hard about it lol,i recommend watching it,it's a Filipino movie and it's available on YouTube! Anyways I probably need some sleep rn, it's literally 12:23 pm , literally dead in the night but idc I wanna finish this lmaoo , anyways you'll see me lurking in the shadows waiting for some other luke skywalker fics,i basically check the x reader tag everyday lol, I'm also writing this based on something personal,fuck u L,also I tried so hard to make it aesthetically pleasing.. please praise me ,drink water and eat your food and sleep in the appropriate time, which I also can't relate

[jule1122]

Malex Fic - I can’t get the language right

This is a late response to the May prompt of ‘Missing Mom’ on @alexguerinappreciation. 

I can’t get the language right on AO3

Title from “Part of the Band” by The 1975

Summary: It’s a generic card - drawing of a wedding cake on the front, one line message inside - “Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.”  But it’s the signature that leaves both of them speechless.  Loopy handwriting in blue pen spells out “Love, Mom.” 

When Alex and Michael get back from their honeymoon, Isobel has their mail separated into three piles labeled - “might be important,” “probably junk,” and “cards: do NOT throw these away.  Rosa wants to make you something and she will kill me if you throw these away.”

“Nice to know there’s someone your sister is afraid of,” Alex laughs when he reads the note.

“Do you want to be the one to tell Rosa we forgot about the personalized gift she wants to make us?”  Michael asks.

“Nope,” Alex says quickly.  Rosa had been very clear about what she wanted, and Alex couldn’t wait to see what she created for them.

They don’t bother with the mail until after they’ve showered and had dinner.  The junk and maybe important piles are dealt with quickly since most of the mail marked as important is also junk.  They open the cards together, Alex recording them in a notebook Maria gave him for keeping track of wedding details.

Michael teases him when he brings it out.  “Please tell me we don’t have to send thank you cards to people for cards.”

“No,” Alex reassures him.  “It’s just nice to remember.”

Michael’s expression softens, and he squeezes Alex’s hand before opening the first card.  It’s not a big pile, most everyone who mattered was at the wedding.  Some are from people Alex works with at Deep Sky, there are a few from people he served with although he’s not sure how they even know he’s married, there are names Michael recognizes from odd jobs he’s done over the years, and one signed from Linsday with a heart over the “i,” who Michael once had a month long friends with benefits relationship with.

The card after Lindsay’s is addressed to “Alex Manes and Spouse.”  Michael laughs when he reads it, “Maybe this is from one of you exes.”

“Not likely,” Alex snorts, watching while Michael flips the card over and carefully opens it.

It’s a generic card - drawing of a wedding cake on the front, one line message inside - “Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.”  But it’s the signature that leaves both of them speechless.  Loopy handwriting in blue pen spells out “Love, Mom.”

“Guess it’s yours after all,”  Michael tries to joke.  When Alex doesn’t react, he clears his throat and starts again.  “Did you?”

“No,” Alex jumps in, “I didn’t.”  He doesn’t finish, but Michael nods, understanding what he doesn’t say.  Maybe if the wedding hadn’t been a rush, if they had really planned any of it, he would have thought about his mother.  But he never would have done anything without talking to Michael.

Michael turns the envelope back over and studies it.  “Surprised she kept your dad’s name,” he says, tapping at the return address.

“M. Manes” is written in the same blue pen above an address Alex knows is about an hour from Greg’s.  He’s not surprised she’s so close since Greg told him he’d met her for dinner a few times.  The name is a surprise though.  “I didn’t know.  She never,” Alex trails off and sighs.  

“It’s ok,” Michael says softly, reaching over and taking Alex’s hand.  “Let’s see what else we got.”

Alex sets the card from his mother aside, separate from the pile they are saving for Rosa.  But when Michael reaches for the next card, Alex stops him.  It feels wrong to continue.  Going through cards was supposed to be fun, another chance to remember their wedding, but now there is a weight over them, the specter of his mother and things left unsaid.

“I’ll be right back,” Alex tells Michael then walks back to his office.  Once there, he takes a manila envelope out of the bottom drawer.  He hates that this is all he has to show Michael, not even enough to put in a box.  But it’s all he has, and he knows Michael will understand.

Michael is waiting at the table when Alex gets back, but he’s cleared away the mail and all the cards, but the one from his mother. He gives Alex an encouraging smile when he sits back down.

“She never included an address before,” he explains as he takes four cards out of the envelope and places them on the table.  “I never knew where she was.”

Michael nods, but doesn’t pick up the cards.  “You talked to her, though right?  About Project Shepherd?”

“Yes, but I didn’t call her directly.  I left a message with one of her cousins, and she called me back from a private number.  It wasn’t,” Alex hesitates, not sure how to explain.  Michael knows he could have traced the number if he wanted to, but he hadn’t.  “It wasn’t a personal conversation.”

When Michael doesn’t reach for the cards, just waits to see what Alex wants to do, Alex hands them to him one by one.  He keeps them in chronological order and lets Michael know when each was sent.  “When I started high school,” he says when he hands Michael the first card in the pile.

Michael turns the envelope over in his hand, looks to see as Alex has said there was no return address.  He’s careful with the card, gently pulling it from the envelope and returning it with just as much care once he’s read it.  It only takes a few seconds to see what is there, or more glaringly what isn’t there.

“My sixteenth birthday, graduation, this one came when I was in rehab,” he hands the last card over to Michael, aware how small the pile of four cards must seem.  There are all simple, basic messages - “Good Luck,” “Happy Birthday,” "Congratulations” and “Get Well Soon.”  The insides are bare save whatever generic message the card came with and the same signature each time, “Love, Mom.”  There are no personal messages, not even his name written inside.

When Michael hands them back to him, hands gentle as if they are somehow precious, he adds, “She sent me a sympathy card after Dad died.  I threw it away.”

That gets a laugh and smile from Michael before he turns serious again.  “Do you think there were more Jesse never gave you?”

“No.”  The answer’s easy because Alex thought about this a lot when he was younger.  “Dad was really weird about Mom.  Once she was gone, he never spoke about her, not once.  I remember one morning we woke up and she wasn’t there, Dad got us ready and took us to school, and when we got home, everything of hers was gone.  He told us she had left and wasn’t coming back, and that was that.”

“You must have had questions,” Michael prompts him.

“Yeah, but by then we knew not to ask.  He never talked about her, but he never criticized her either, just pretended she never existed.  But when the cards came - Clay was the first one - he just handed them to us and walked away.  It was hard to figure out the pattern, we all got the same ones, and every time Dad just gave them to us.”

“That is weird for Jesse,” Michael agrees.

“I think he loved her, as much as he could love.  They were together before Tripp died, before Harlan fed him his poisoned theories and brought him into Project Shepherd.  Maybe that’s why she stayed as long as she did, she remembered who he was before.”  Alex shrugs.  He’s not sure any of that matters.  His mother left and his father was abusive.  How their story started doesn’t change any of that.  

Alex picks up the card and stares at the return address before setting it down with a sigh.

“Why do you think she included her address this time?”

“She’s been talking to Greg, maybe he convinced her to let me know where she is.”  The uncharitable part of Alex wondered if she knew Greg would tell him if he asked so there was no point in hiding, but he doesn’t say that out loud.

“What do you want to do?”

“What can I do?” Alex asks.  “It’s been over twenty years.  Am I just supposed to show up at her house and what, talk?”

“Maybe, if that’s what you want,” Michael shrugs.  “Maybe this is her way of reaching out, of letting you know she’s ready.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready.” It comes out sharper than he intended - brittle and defensive.  Alex sighs, hating how emotional he still gets when he thinks about his mother.

“Then you’re not ready,” Michael shrugs like it’s that easy.  “You don’t have to be ready just because she might be.”

“I don’t want to be angry,” Alex admits.  Michael drops a hand to his thigh and squeezes gently, silently encouraging him to continue.  “Leaving was the right decision.  I understand why she did it, and I’m glad she got out, that she didn’t have to suffer.”

“That she didn’t have to suffer like you did,”  Michael finishes for him quietly.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.  “It was the right decision for her, I know that.  Hell, if anyone should understand, it should be me.  I did the same thing to you - left you behind when I couldn’t stand to stay.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Michael cuts him off quickly.  He doesn’t sound angry, just frustrated.  “I had my own ways out, I made my own decision to stay.  You didn’t leave me in his house, at his mercy.  You were my boyfriend, Alex, not,” Michael stops, runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath.  “You were my boyfriend, not my mother.  You weren’t responsible for my safety.  You can understand why she left and still be hurt and angry that she left you behind.”

“She didn’t have a choice,” Alex shakes his head.  “Dad never would have let us go.  His wife leaving was bad enough, but he would have fought her, brought us back one way or another.  She did the right thing.”

“Alex,” Michael says, then he waits, infinitely patient.

“I don’t want to be angry,”  Alex finally repeats because it’s the only thing he knows.  When he thinks about seeing his mother, all he can imagine is all the pain and hurt he’s been hiding coming out in accusations and recriminations.  It scares him,and he doesn’t want to be that person.

“She might have done the best thing for her, but it doesn’t mean it was the right thing for you.  It’s alright to be angry,” Michael says gently.  “It’s alright to not want to see her or talk to her.  She might be ready to reach out, but it doesn’t mean you are.  It’s up to you, not her, how you respond or if you just want to ignore it.”

“Up to me?” Alex laughs. Something about that brings some of his anger to the surface, but he’s not afraid because he knows it’s safe with Michael.  “None of this has ever been up to me.  She left - no goodbye, no note.  She was just gone.  And by the time I got used to that, she sent Clay the first card.  I thought she was coming back, but she didn’t.  And every time, even after I knew better, I’d start looking for her.  At the grocery store, in the school parking lot, in the stands at Greg’s basketball games, at my graduation.  But she was never there.  This is all I have of her,”  Alex picks the cards up and shoves them back in the envelope.  “I don’t know what they mean.  I never have.”

“Hey,” Michael takes the envelope from Alex’s hands and sets it back on the table.  “Let’s leave this for tonight.  You don’t need to do anything right now.  Just come to bed, let me take care of you.”

Alex follows Michael back to their bedroom.  He lets Michael hover as they get ready for bed, lets Michael hold him and whisper how much he loves him into his skin.  It feels selfish, but Alex would do the same for Michael, has done the same for Michael so he stays in Michael’s arms until the hurt and anger fade away.  Until he remembers that he’s loved now and that’s what matters.

Alex thinks of his mother often over the next few weeks.  Time doesn’t bring clarity, he’s as conflicted about how to respond to her card as he was when he first saw it.  He thinks about calling Greg, but he doesn’t want to interfere with whatever relationship Greg is trying to build with her.  It’s not fair to ask Greg to interpret her motives,and he doesn’t want Greg to feel like he needs to pick sides.

He ends up in the card aisle at the grocery store trying to find a card that doesn’t say too much, isn’t a confession he’s not ready to make, before his ice cream melts.  He settles on a card with a watercolor bouquet of wildflowers on the outside and the simple message, “Thinking of you” on the inside.

Michael finds the card when he’s helping Alex unload the groceries.  He wrinkles his nose at the muted bouquet on the cover, “I hope this isn’t for me.”

“No,” Alex comes up behind Michael, wraps his arms around him and kisses his neck. “You know I’m always thinking about you.”

“You’d better be,” Michael teases.  He turns in Alex’s arms and kisses him sweetly, then nips at his lip before going back to the groceries.

Alex takes the card and sets it on the coffee table.  He goes back to the kitchen and doesn’t think about it.  He doesn’t think about it while they debate about dinner before finally making pasta.  Or after dinner, when they meet Isobel and Kyle at the Wild Pony.  

Maria started experimenting with a trivia night while they were on their honeymoon, and Isobel convinced them to play together.  She hands them T-shirts that say “Team Alien Lovers” in rainbow glitter as soon as they sit down.  Michael threatens to leave until Isobel promises to pay for all their drinks.  They crush the other teams and come home laughing and buzzed and Alex doesn’t think about the card at all.

He’s still not thinking about the card the next morning when Michael joins him in the shower, and he’s almost late for work.  When he gets home, he can’t help but notice the bright yellow envelope on the table, but Michael comes in right behind him with take out from the Crashdown.  They eat dinner outside and spend the night by the fire pit Alex had put in as a surprise for Michael.  He thinks of nothing but how happy he is and how much he loves his husband.

Friday is an early day for Alex, and he’s home a few hours before Michael.  He normally fills the time with chores or working on his personal research projects, but he’s too restless to settle on one thing.  He moves from room to room, half heartedly starting something only to end up back in the living room staring at the blank envelope.  Alex finally gives in and picks up the card, sitting at the table and intending to fill it out quickly.

He’s still there when Michael gets home.  Michael must have said something when he comes in, but Alex doesn’t hear him.  Instead, Michael’s hands on his shoulders are his first indication that he’s not alone.  He relaxes into the touch, smiling when Michael kisses the back of his head.  When Michael starts to move away, Ales grabs his hand and tugs him into the chair next to him.

Michael sits with him, one hand between his shoulder blades in support, while he flips the pen between his fingers and tries to figure out what to say.

“It’s Alex Guerin now.  I took Michael’s name when we got married.  He’s the best part of my life, and I want him and everyone else to know it.  He’s brilliant and kind and loyal and beautiful.  I want to say I know you would love him, but I don’t know.  I don’t know enough about you to know how you will feel about him.  I don’t know if you will care that he’s a man or that he’s not Native.  I don’t know if you can love me let alone Michael.”

He thinks it, but he doesn’t write any of that.

“I feel like I should say I miss you, but I don’t know if that’s true.  It’s been so long I don’t know if I miss you or if I miss the idea of you.  I told Michael I don’t want to be angry, and I’m trying not to be.  But sometimes anger is easier than hurt or fear.  And I know I’m afraid to see you again, afraid of what I might say or feel.  Afraid of what you will think of me, if you’ll be disappointed.”

He doesn’t write that or this either:

“I always wondered what happened to you.  If I ran away to the Reservation, would I find you there?  Or were across the country or even on another continent.  Did you get married again, did you have other children?  I used to imagine you married a millionaire or a prince and you would come rescue us, but you never did. I held on to that dream for a long time, longer than I should have until Dad finally beat all hope out of me.  I always imagined you were happy, happier than I was.  If you were then you made the right decision.  You choose your safety and happiness over mine, and I always wanted to believe it was worth it even though it hurt. I don’t know if it will hurt more to find out that it’s true or to learn that you haven’t been happy, and we both suffered alone.  I don’t know if I’m brave enough to find out.”

When Alex finally figures out what he does want to say, he writes it quickly before he can change his mind.  Once the card is ready to go, he turns to Michael, “What now?”

Michael smiles and kisses him softly.  “How about we go for a ride?”

He drives them to the post office, and waits patiently for Alex to get the courage to mail it. 

“Thanks,” he says to Michael once he’s done.

Michael looks at him carefully, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am,” Alex tells him honestly.  “Let’s get out of here.”

He threads his fingers through Michael, squeezing his hand as they head back home.  Alex realizes he’s looking forward to the weekend.  They have no plans, but he’s sure they’ll come up with something.  For tonight, they’ll cook together, spend the evening relaxing and making love.  Then they’ll sleep in and wake up together and fill the hours together.

Sometime next week, his mother will get the card he sent.  But now that it’s mailed, he feels nothing but relief.  Maybe it will be a beginning or maybe nothing will change.  Either way, Alex has said all he can for now, writing simply, “Love, Alex.”

[hanmi-xo]

Chapter 2: "The Painting"

| Between Us | Chapter List |

Previous | Next ------------------

| L I H U A |

I sat outside on my balcony.

The birds chirped along the entangled branches and hummed a melody that was very calming. The sun shined between the clouds that roamed the sky.

I was reading one of the articles my good friend and colleague Wonwoo sent me.

I met him a while back during my time looking for a stable job. He was seeking editor help online and I was putting my freelance work up so someone can hire me.

Our paths crossed, and now I'm his assistant writer and editor.

Working remote has made it easier for me to be away from everyone. I know I should leave my room more often, but I believe I'm also more productive away from people.

Besides, I could only work so much for today.

Dokyeom wanted to bring me out, but he never told me what for. Maybe it's his way of making up for what happened at the high school reunion- probably hoping that I can see how life outside the house can be great. But even so, I'm a homebody at heart.

I heard my phone ring with notifications. It was the girls. None of them were home at the moment, but it appeared they were part of Dokyeom's plan. I stared at their messages that filled my phone.

Art Museum.

They know I don't like art anymore because of Joshua.

My phone rang with more notifications, but this time it was my brother.

I sighed. That was my signal to go.

---------

| M I N G H A O |

"I could have just waited in the car, Dokyeom," I tell my friend. He dragged me out to the front of the house.

"Oh, come on," Dokyeom says, "You never met my sister. She's great! Also, thanks again for agreeing to this!"

His voice rung with joy, and in return I glared at him.

"You said you wanted to hang out." My voice rose with annoyance. "This is not what I consider as hanging out. Why are we bringing your sister?"

I watched as my friend pursed his lips with guilt.

"Ah..." he awkwardly laughed. "You see... my sister used to like art, and now that you're a curator for the nearby art museum, I thought it'd be a great idea to bring her there!"

He gave me a bright grin of innocence. I rolled my eyes and judged his ridiculousness.

"First you say Seungcheol wants to tag along, and then his girlfriend, and now you're dragging your sister along," I spat.

Dokyeom raised his hands up in surrender. "It'll be fun!"

"Yeah for you guys," I rebuttal.

Before he could speak, the door slowly opened. The warmth of the home seeped through the gap that widened. I felt the heat reach out to me. A figure stuck her head out.

My eyes widened.

There stood that same girl from the balcony.

Her brown orbs reflected off of mine for a moment. She seemed surprised to see me, but also unbothered.

So, she's Lihua?

She doesn't seem to carry any similar facial features compared to Dokyeom though?

Her eyes went to him.

She didn't seem all too happy. I'm not sure if it's because of me or because of her brother.

"Lihua!" Dokyeom said with joy. "Ready to go?"

He beamed at her, but she didn't mirror his energy. Rather, she remained stoic and nodded her head.

She seemed like a phlegmatic person.

"Yeah," she said. Her voice was soft yet humble.

As she was stepping out, Dokyeom began to speak. He was rather in a good mood. Too good of a mood in fact.

"Do you remember Minghao?" he asks her.

She turned around towards me once she finished locking the door. My eyes met with hers again before her orbs scanned me up and down.

"The one that hates women right?"

She said it as though it was a normal thing, but Dokyeom responded with laughter. He pointed at me and nodded his head.

"I told you!" He snickered.

I rolled my eyes. I remember Dokyeom laughing in the car about the matter, and knowing that she knows me doesn't seem all too surprising.

What bothers me is the fact that she knows about my existence but I didn't know about hers.

Dokyeom hardly ever mentions her when I'm around. Then again, I don't pay attention to conversations that include a girl's name...

"What the hell did you say about me?" I ask Dokyeom.

I felt her eyes bounce between her brother and I.

"Oh nothing." He waved his hand off with mischief. "Let's go!~"

He walked ahead of us and ignored my glare. I felt his sister's presence next to me.

I turned to look at her, but she didn't bother looking my way. Her eyes were on her brother. She sighed.

"Don't worry. I won't bother you," she says. Her voice was monotone yet apologetic.

She seemed quite truthful.

She walked away from me and followed after her brother. I stared in judgement at the two who stood next to my vehicle. I saw Seungcheol's car pull up towards them with the front seat window pulled down. His girlfriend waved at us with Seungcheol sending out a piece sign.

I scoffed. This was supposed to be a guy hangout...

"Whatever. At least I get to look at art." I dragged my feet to them.

----------

| L I H U A |

I walked along the open hall that led to the art gallery. The place was bigger than I expected and had intricate architecture along with different sculptures and paintings.

They all caught my attention, and I couldn't help but awe at everything.

They were all beautiful, but I couldn't admit that aloud. A part of me felt depressed seeing all these artworks.

It reminded me of him.

It reminded me of Joshua.

Somehow I found myself away from everyone else. All I remember was Seungcheol and Astrid pointing at things and Dokyeom having to explain each one.

Dokyeom only knew certain facts about paintings because of me.

I was once an art major in college but since my departure with that, I became buried with books.

I needed something to get away from Joshua.

I needed something to get me away from the reality I lived in.

I stared at the painting that seemed carefully crafted with layers of oil paint. It was a white flower painting. It bloomed in darkness where everything else was tarnished or dead.

There wasn't a title nor a name of the artist. The painting was nameless leaving it feeling empty and hollow.

It was like it was forgotten or wasn't supposed to be found.

Whatever the case, I couldn't seem to get away from it. I felt too connected.

It reminded me of an old painting I once did, but I sold that off long ago. I sold almost everything that I made and crafted. I had too much artworks to keep track of. I didn't like looking at things that reminded me of Joshua. He was the reason for my art after all.

But I remember the day I made the painting. One of the few times he wasn't my muse or model.

I made it without a thought. I let the paintbrush do most of the work and let the ideas run through.

I wonder what happened to that painting...

"That painting came in yesterday."

I turned to look at the man who seemed to be behind me. I didn't know he would have the willingness to talk to me.

Minghao had his hands in his pocket while he stared at the painting in front of us. His black hair was brushed back with a bit of his strands hitting the frame of his clear glasses.

He suddenly had this sophisticated demeanor. It was strange seeing this cold man become soft towards the subject of art.

He looked lost in thought with way his eyes wavered around the painting.

I turned back around and stared at the artwork as well. I crossed my arms in front of me while I gazed at the brush strokes that were visible towards the naked eye.

"So there's no name?" I ask him. My orbs remained dancing on the surface of layers the painting displayed.

"No," I heard him say. "Nobody knows where it came from."

His voice was low as a whisper as if he too was in wonder about the painting's form of existence.

We stood there for a moment before I heard my name be called in the distance. I turned towards the voice that came from Minghao's side. He too looked.

There came the three we came with. My brother moved his arms up and down for our attention, and I couldn't help but sigh.

I walked passed Minghao and came towards the trio. They seemed happy but also confused.

"So? Did any paintings catch your attention?" Dokyeom asked me.

I shook my head.

"No," I lied.

I heard Minghao come from behind me. I turned to look at him and he didn't meet my eyes. Rather he avoided eye contact with me.

I saw Astrid's eyes look at him before looking at me. She seemed concerned. Probably because Minghao was there when they found us.

I shrugged my shoulders at her.

She seemed perplexed and mimicked my actions in return.

Minghao's appearance was out of the blue, but then again, he is a curator. He's an art lover under that cold appearance of his.

"Let's go and eat after this," Seungcheol says. "I'm hungry."

He rubbed his stomach and Astrid copied him as well.

"We're hungry," she says with a sad expression which Seungcheol mirrored.

The couple matched each other through action and mind. When this happens, they usually end up doing their own thing.

Dokyeom frowned. "But we haven't seen everything yet! There's so much to look at!"

He sounded like an excited child that didn't want to leave.

"Listen," Seungcheol says, trying to find even ground. "Astrid and I will go get some food, and we can all meet up later."

Astrid nodded her head with a bright smile. "Yeah!~ We can hang out at our house. Watch a movie or something."

Dokyeom moved his head side to side as he thought about the plan.

"Hmmm... okay. Sounds good," he says.

The couple smiled brightly before waving their farewell.

"We'll see y'all soon!" Seungcheol said as him and Astrid hurried off.

I squeezed my mouth to my left in judgement. I knew what they were going to do, and I knew it would be more than just eating.

"Well, since they're gone," Dokyeom says, gathering my attention. "Let's make a group chat. Only the real art lovers will be in it."

He seemed a bit petty from our friend's departure. I watched him take out his phone.

"I'll add you guys... annnnndd THERE!" He says after making the group chat.

I heard my phone get notified and Minghao took out his phone as well from the noise.

I looked at my brother who seemed to be waiting for something. He stared at us with a disappointed look.

"Why are you both so quiet!" He cried. "I made a chat! You both better use it! You know what!"

I watched my brother throw a small fit before turning around.

"I'll do my own thing. Just message me when you're both done!" He walked off.

Minghao and I looked at each other after witnessing my brother's behavior. Minghao scrunched his face with judgement.

I shrugged my shoulders at him with my hands up.

We then went out separate ways around the museum until it was time to go. Though the place was large and beautiful in every way possible-

I couldn't forget about the flower painting.

I wanted to know more about it, but I knew I shouldn't bother Minghao.

It wouldn't be right for me to do that.

He clearly doesn't like me.

——

SM Post: Astrid has posted...

• • •

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[turtleations]

Pink Couldy Sky, Chapter 06 – Crossroads (Summarized) - Part 2

Chapter 00 - 01 Chapter 02 Chapter 03 Chapter 04 Part 1, Part 2 Chapter 05 Chapter 06 Part 1

The story returns to the end of the eighties, the early nineties. After a year of not touching his guitar, REM tentatively started playing again and became part of a newly formed band called “AMIT”, playing covers of artists like Rush or Van Halen. However, he saw his musical activities as only a hobby. His focus for the future remined on becoming a dentist.

Still, since it was in these days that he bought the equipment needed to record his own songs at home, it seems that he was not quite ready the completely throw music away after all. Only, he had no concrete aim for it. Deep inside he still thought, no, he was certain that one day the time would come when he wanted to earnestly do music again.

Here, he wants to talk about the members of AMIT a little, who were his moral support then and still are his very close friends and band mates. Back then, all of them were students of dental medicine, and the name of the band was just the initials of their names being lined up. Today, they are all practicing dentists, and a weird, self-proclaimed “wedding-party band”.

The “A” in AMIT stood for Araki, REM’s family name. “M” was their drummer Mikami, “I” bassist Ishikawa, and “T” the other guitarist Takamichi. At first, REM tentatively doubled as a vocalist, but eventually they were joined by a vocalist called Nakamaru, who was a dental student as well back then and by now has opened a dental clinic in his hometown of Hiroshima. REM still has email exchanges with him. The other members all work in the neighborhood of Yokosuka and often come to the new SAVER TIGER’s lives.

Forming the band had been the idea of Takamichi, thanks to whom REM once again became active in a band. Doing some casual music, he found, wasn’t so bad…

And through AMIT’s activities, REM could stay in shape, musically. 

-

During those day, REM continued to be in contact with hide. Being guitarist of an established band, hide spend a lot of time aboard, to the point of setting up residence in Los Angeles.

“X” had an extremely successful live at Budoukan, soon changed their name to “X JAPAN”, and started aiming for an international market.

Still, hide often called across the world from L.A., laughing and saying that once he was back in Japan, they should go drinking on Dobuita together! And when they did drink on Dobuita, they did so until morning. Afterwards, rather than staying at his parent’s house in Yokosuka, hide always returned to his place in Tokyo. When he was drinking, hide was cheerful and happily talked about the ideas he came up with.

“I want to get an elephant on stage, how would I do that?” Stuff like that. It was typical for hide; he was like a surprise box of ideas.

He didn’t really talk about himself.

Even though REM had given up his music dreams, hide always listened attentively and seriously when he did talk about music, or gave a status-update. If REM, for example, talked about a new guitar he had gotten, or a live he had seen, or a live he had given, or if he went to Tokyo to drink… hide always seemed to share the happiness or the regrets from REM’s trivial stories.

It was in those days that REM and hide had their first and last fight ever.

In that year, REM was to finally become a dentist. To graduate from university, he was desperate to break through the barrier called “final exams”. During that phase, hide called REM a few times to invite him for drinks, but REM always declined to focus on his studies until the exams were over.

Becoming a dentist was the goal he had been working for to the point of giving up music for it. To the detriment of his music friends, starting with hide. And then the day of the exams that he had been learning for so fervently came, and it did not go well.

On the day the exams ended, REM got a call from hide who had been genuinely worrying about REM’s success. But REM was feeling down because the exams went badly. And on top of that, he had been informed, once they were over, that his mother was in the hospital.

Her condition wasn’t good, but REM’s father, who was a doctor after all, assured him that it would be okay, so REM figured it couldn’t be that bad. Still, he worried.

With all of that piling up, he was half-hearted about meeting with hide that day. All the same, since he got so enthusiastically invited, they met for drinks in Yokosuka after all. They met at “Parkside X” and then moved on to their usual place, “Buffalo” on Dobuita Street.

Yet, however much he drank, REM couldn’t get drunk that day. He still wasn’t over the shock of learning that his mother had been hospitalized without him knowing about it, or the shock of failing such an important exam. He wasn’t able to ban those things from his mind and his mood was dark. He couldn’t help himself.

Eventually, trying to cheer him up, hide said, “Let’s go to my office in Tokyo after this! I’ll show you around.” And, “After passing your finals, you’re going to start working. The first floor of my office building is empty. You can open a dental office there!”

Hide talked about this idea with bright eyes and child-like enthusiasm.

His proposal wasn’t just about the dental office. He wanted REM the musician by his side.

REM thinks that around this time, beyond being X’s guitarist, hide was thinking about starting solo activities. Bit by bit, he had begun to write songs and lyrics for that purpose.

He wished for REM to support him in that. To help with the creative process, to play the guitar. If possible, he wanted them to write songs together again. That was hide’s proposal.

“Because I am at a critical state right now, I really wish you’d come to the office with me today.”

However, that night, REM just couldn’t crawl up from the deep pool of darkness in his heart.

“…I can’t go.”

“Let’s go, right now, okay?”

“No, I can’t.”

“All the more reason to go!”

In that manner, they went on and on.

Looking back, REM thinks that hide had been really serious about it.

And REM was in the worst mental condition he had ever experienced. He honestly couldn’t help himself.

Hide’s proposal had made him happy. That hide had expressed to him how genuinely important REM was to him, that he was so serious about this. But fact is that REM just wasn’t in the mood to go to Tokyo just then. And so, he continued to decline.

It continued like this, back and forth, for about an hour. Then hide suddenly stood, yelled, “Why can’t you fucking go! And I waited for you all this time!” and ran from the building.

When he heard the words “I waited for you,” REM jumped up as well, feeling like someone had slapped the back of his head. Frantic, he ran after hide, but it was too late. Hide was nowhere to be seen. REM searched for him until he was dripping with sweat, but he couldn’t find him anywhere.

The moon was barely there, the night was pitch black. It was like hide’s retreating form had melted into the darkness and been swallowed by the Yokosuka night.

When REM returned to his apartment after giving up his search, he got a call from hide’s mother.

“What happened? Did you have a fight?”

After hide ran off, he had ended up at his parents’ place, and he was so violently upset that his mother became worried enough to call REM.

The next day, hide was the one calling him, asking, “Did I say something last night?”

Deep in his heart, REM felt a pang of gratitude at hide’s thoughtful kindness. Clearly, he remembered everything that had happened. But REM thought that it was out of consideration for him that hide pretended to have forgotten.

Thinking about it now, REM comes to the conclusion that up until that point, hide must have been convinced that REM would eventually return to the music world. He had been waiting for the time when the two of them could make music together again. And what he had really been saying that night was, “REM, come back already!”

-

Contrary to his expectations, REM actually passed his exams. To celebrate, he once again went out for drinks with hide. Only this time, hide did not say a single word about inviting him.

Now that he was calmer, REM had been able to consider hide’s proposal and started to think that practicing as a dentist close to hide in Tokyo wouldn’t be so bad. Except that, when hide had needed him, REM hadn’t been with him at all. When REM thought about how desperately hide had asked for him only to be turned down, he couldn’t say anything.

It had been a night full of regrets. Even now, he sometimes thinks that. The slight differences in human hearts, leading to misunderstandings…

 It was a moment that contained an eternity. A crossroad of destiny.

Not long after, REM undertook the state exam for his profession. The event took place in Tokyo on two consecutive days and REM stayed in the city overnight.

At the end of the first day, REM called his parents’ home to inquire about his mother’s condition, and his older sister brightly told him not to worry. Momentarily assured, REM attended the exam the following day, which he finished without any problems.

After finishing, all the students returned to Yokosuka by bus together so they could hand in the self-scoring for the exam before returning home. On the bus, REM used his cell phone to once again call his parents’ number, overcome by a strange uneasiness. Again, his sister picked up the phone. This time, she was different from the night before. This time, she was crying.

“Mom is in critical condition. She’s lost consciousness. Until your exams were over, she didn’t want us to tell you about it, that’s why I couldn’t say anything last night. I’m sorry…”

REM ended up being the only one to not submit his self-score that day. In a stupor, he went straight to Haneda Airport. But when he arrived, the last plane to Shikoku had already left. With no other choice, he camped outside the airport, not getting a moment of sleep, and got on the first flight the next morning.

Once he arrived on Shikoku, he rushed to the hospital his mother was in, but it was already too late. His mother was unconscious and kept alive only by a ventilator. Thirty minutes after REM made it there, silently and as if drifting to sleep, she passed away.

Half a year earlier, his father had examined her and known that there was no saving her anymore. The tumors in her body had grown out of control. And she was already in a condition where surgery was no longer an option. All REM’s father could do as a surgeon was choose his wife’s medication and make sure that she could spend her remaining days as peacefully as possible.

That his mother would be the first to go came as an unexpected shock not only to REM but to his father as well. Because the one who had wandered the line between life and death twice before because of cancer had not been his wife, but him.

The first time had been more than twenty years before his wife’s death. Diagnosed with rectal cancer, REM’s father underwent major surgery and was given a 50 % chance of survival. What had helped him in his miraculous recovery was the selfless care of his wife.

The second time had been a year before REM’s mother had so suddenly left them. Once again, REM’s father faced a cancer diagnosis. This time it was lung cancer, and while surgery was possible, the attending physician informed him that his chance of survival was only about 30 %.

Once again, his wife gave him marvelous care. The surgery was a splendid success. But after-effects remained.

It had been hard for REM to see his strong-willed father lie unresisting in a hospital bed, breathing through a tube in a hole in his throat. But thanks to the devoted care of his wife who looked after him tirelessly and ignored her own needs, he managed to make another miraculous recovery.

Looking back, the tumors must have already been growing in REM’s mother’s body. And if they had been discovered then, there should have been at least a little chance to save her.

But it seems that during the care for her husband and his rehabilitation, she didn’t have the time to take care of herself or listen to her body’s signals.

When his life slowly returned to normal after half a year of fighting his illness, REM’s father noticed that there was something wrong with his wife’s condition. He then discovered the cancer in her body, but by that point it was already too late.

Half a year later, as if trading places with her husband, REM’s mother left the world because of that cancer. Strangely, it was lung cancer she had suffered from, just as her husband had before.

Holding vigil over his wife’s body, hunched over and talking to no one, REM’s father murmured, “It feels like your mother has been carrying all the misfortune…”

At this time, REM didn’t worry about his state exam at all. Even though he did not do the self-score, he had been convinced the moment he finished that he had passed. At the same time, he did not feel happy about it. The shock of his mother’s death had left a large hole in his heart.

So it was without emotion that he received the confirmation of his success.

All this happened in the hot summer of 1993. REM hadn’t given any thought as to what to do after his graduation. He wasn’t able to. The sense of loss affected him beyond all expectations.

In the end, he stayed in college. He started working for a former teacher of his, Professor Arakawa, who had been one of the few teachers during his student days who had shown him understanding and encouragement. He was worried about REM who was so shaken by the loss of his irreplaceable mother just at the time of his graduation, and told him the following: “Let’s work together. Get back on your feet. Then you will also be able to play your beloved music again.” And he invited REM to the General Medine Department that he was a part of.

It was not just Professor Arakawa. The bandmates from his college band DOPPEL GANGER and the guys from AMIT called him just about every day to cheer him up. The warmth of many friends melted his frozen heart, and he was eventually able to choose a path for his future.

At this point, hide spend most of his time in L.A. and only occasionally came back to Japan. But when he did, he always went out for drinks with REM.

REM still regretted that he had done nothing when hide had needed him the most. He kept hearing hide’s voice from that night, calling out to him.

Therefore, to REM, hide and him were only drinking buddies now, if good ones. Drinking with hide was all REM felt he could do. It was all he was good for. That’s what he kept thinking deep inside.

Then, one night, hide showed up at REM’s apartment with some ten-odd people in tow. REM had moved to a new place after starting to work at the university. Hide, who had been drinking at Dobuita, marched there with his group of people, some of them foreigners whom REM didn’t know at all. It was quite the uproar and must have been annoying for the neighbors, but for REM and hide, it was finally a good night again.

At the end of the night, REM took hide home, and on the way, he told him, “That time, I was very happy that I was so important to you. It’s just that I was dealing with some private problems… I’m sorry.”

Then, hide said, “…it’s okay. I absolutely want to play with members of SAVER’s successive generations on a solo album. So, keep playing the guitar every day. Because when the time comes, I’m asking you…”

He stopped talking. REM looked over to see what was wrong and saw that he was crying.

After he stopped crying, hide said to REM, “It’s all good. Because from now on, we can do anything.”

Suddenly, the vision of REM, who was driving the car, turned cloudy.

It wasn’t raining.

Chapter 07

[readerforexiao]

𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋, 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Gojo Satoru x Reader | angst no comfort, canon compliant, no happy ending | tw: star crossed lovers, sacrificial love, sacrifice, death, grief, fated for tragedy, emotional distress, self blame, suicidal ideation | wc: 1.4k

⌗ A/n: please please cry with me someone because I spent my entire morning watching sad edits on TikTok

⌗ "The greatest sorcerer to ever live, the kindest soul to ever love. The last of our hope, bearing the weight of our pain so we could dream and laugh, if only for a moment."

You find Satoru on the rooftop with his back turned and his legs dangling over the edge— as if he were a single heartbeat away from the descend into freedom.

A quiet, breathless sigh drifted from your lips in wisps of mist that dissipated into the frigid air, each one cold but not enough to diminish the warmth that swelled within you at the sight of him, framed against the night sky, his hair gleaming beneath the watchful glow of the moon.

Still, he managed to stand out brightly even amidst the web of stars and city lights—impossible to ignore, drawing your attention like a beacon of strength.

He was, afterall, the strongest. Satoru Gojo— the man who lived on despite the final song of his heart ending before it had the chance to dance. The man who made the darkest of nights feel the safest, whose arms became the only home you’d ever known and whose shoulder was the only place your tears found comfort.

“Do you think you’ll miss this sight?” He asked without turning back to look at you, knowing that it was you only you alive who found him. Always you.

Time seemed to stretch like a taut string. The silence gave way to the lump in your throat, each shaky step bringing you closer as you observed in longing at the way his hair ruffled in the wind. And despite not being able to see you, you nodded. You would miss it— more than anything in the world.

He watched over the city, but you watched over him. That is why you noticed what he held in his hand.

The first tear broke free and the rest followed in an unbroken stream out of your control, almost mirroring the way you had fallen for a man beyond your reach over and over again, or the way your hearts hurried in pursuit of peace and meaning that was never written to be yours.

You never feared chasing after him, never allowed the weight of despondency to seep in. Even when all he could offer was his back turned to you in rejection— the very silhouette you'd seen just before chaos erupted.

There was a sad awakening in that moment as you realized it would become the portrait of your most longed-for view, an image destined to fade from memory.

When you reached your hand out to grasp him, it was caught in the wind, left unmet, as if the universe itself were reminding you of the gulf between dreams and reality.

"I'm not afraid to die..."

Your knees crumbled to the ground as he laid bare the truth to the question you once dared to ask. There suspended in the air— what he never admitted, even to himself, only to you.

You couldn’t care less about the pain shooting through your body as your head fell against his back, your hands clutching his jacket tightly, your lips trembling while the bittersweet longing for what was to come and what might be lost hung on your tongue.

"I don’t even care what becomes of my sacrifices." He looked up, his blue eyes glinting with a beauty reminiscent of light flickering off the cleanest gem, reflectent of a galaxy. It was worthless in the end, he knew, as life continued on and people would never know how he suffered, his gift to them— the peace they’d known, all but forgotten and lost to the passage of time.

But that didn’t make it meaningless; at least you would still have the chance to live.

"Satoru..."

He smiled as your voice wrapped around his name, filled with love.

"I’ve lost it all," he said, reaching behind him for your hand. "But never you... never us. And I loved it while it lasted"

Life, he meant— the happiness he chose to hold onto instead of the pain. His only regret was that he protected you despite knowing how it would end, when he could have been selfish and embraced you, perhaps kissed you a little longer and dreamed of a future together.

"It would have been the greatest," he murmured in awe at the mere notion of it— all he was meant to share with you, his students, his friends, and Suguru. A story for the ages, a legend to be remembered through the centuries. An epic adventure where good prevailed. But this was reality, cruel, tainted, and unforgiving.

"You are the greatest," you uttered, your voice quaking as you fought to keep the sobs at bay, but they escaped you nonetheless, echoing the anguish you felt in your heart.

Suddenly, he was taken aback. *Are you Gojo Satoru because you are the strongest, or are you the strongest because you are Gojo Satoru?* A bitterness settled on his tongue, his name detached and indifferent.

Did you mean it the same?

"Why?" he asked, fidgeting as his thumb traced over your skin.

"Because you’re you," you said, a whisper of sorrow. "Because you’re my Satoru— our Satoru."

He smiled when the first tear trickled down his face, granting him the strength to let go. He watched as his blindfold— a symbol of his downfall— drifted into the sky, carried away by the wind.

He pulled you into his chest, guiding your legs to rest on either side of him as you straddled his lap.

"The greatest sorcerer to ever live, the kindest soul to ever love. The last of our hope, bearing the weight of our pain so we could dream and laugh, if only for a moment." A sob escaped you, and his hand tightened around yours, offering a fragile comfort to you both. "Satoru Gojo, who carried our burdens without complaint and stood tall amidst the horrors. For everything surrendered, he still smiled. For every friend he lost, he fought harder"

When Satoru opened his eyes, a familiar smile met him— vague and spectral yet warm and welcoming.

His name teetered on the tip of his tongue, but it fell short as a smirk flashed, one forever etched in his memory, as youthful as the days when things were, somehow, a happier. Before he could speak, the figure walked away, waving goodbye with a casual flick of the hand.

'Tell her, Satoru... before it's too late,' Suguru said, his voice drifting as he faded to dust, disappearing along with his words. And Satoru's hand on yours went limp, falling away.

"I love you" he proclaimed aloud for the first time, and possibly... the last.

No... No... No... No...

This is not how he was supposed to say it!

“There has to be another way…" your voice cracked under the strain of holding back tears. "Please... please don’t leave me"

"I’m sorry, for everything I couldn’t protect, for all the times I wasn’t there… for never giving you what you deserve”

He was the strongest, yet somehow, never strong enough. How horrible. How utterly pathetic.

You shook your head, fingers threading through his hair, “Don't ever apologize,” you choked out. “You’ve given so much. You’re… you’re everything.”

"I think I’ll take a page out of Suguru’s book," he murmured, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent one last time. "But you... run"

You punched his gut lightly, and he winced before laughter erupted from him. “Feisty little thing until the very end,” he teased, a faint smile touching his lips.

“Until the very end,” you determined.

He leaned back to cradle your face, the pads of his thumbs running over the traces where your tears had fallen. “Still— promise me you’ll do it,” he said softly, searching your eyes for a sign of agreement. “No matter what happens. Kill whoever you need to. Sacrifice whoever you must. But go. Live… dream… smile… love.”

"I’ve already done all those things… with you and for you, you idiot," you said affectionately as his hands glided over your back, his cheek resting against your head.

"Then carry on my legacy,"

"No," you denied firmly. "Never again."

No one should live or die the way he had to; it was a legacy you never wished to uphold. Yet, he was special— so special to you; your one and only, and you believed he alone reserved the right to carry that greatness, no matter how tragic it may be.

"Then mourn us," he said softly, reading between the lines as he leaned in, "Keep us alive, all of us."

His lips pressed against yours, a parting gift. But what he would never know was that you would live out your promise for a year before resigning yourself to meet your end.

Then, at last, you would be by his side, your vow fulfilled at the journey's end.

All rights reserved | Copyright @readerforexiao 2024

Do not copy, steal, or repost to any other platform 🥀

[chartedsuns]

THE SCREAMING TOWER

PART 1: The Black Jungle

Cal looked up, his neck craned back to take it all in. The Bureau of Catholic Affairs was a monolith. The tower was formed like a spine, each vertebra a different department. It was as if the Bureau were a grand pillar holding the moon's artificial chrome sky aloft. Perhaps it was. The inside of the building was no less daunting. The main foyer simply did not have a ceiling, the tube layout of the Bureau let one peer up to the very top, at least if the haze of the atmosphere did not obscure it. 

Clerks hurried about with purpose, the flowing blood of the Bureau, not stopping at Cal’s timid request for directions. Suddenly the impression of a woman appeared before Cal, an illusion created by his M-Implant. Her platinum blonde hair was in a painfully tight bun, her lab coat adorned with a sigil of no academic organisation known to him.

“Apologies Specialist Mason, a busy morning you understand.” The woman gave an apologetic smile.

Cal, attempting to hide how startled he was by her sudden appearance, gave a few quick and polite mumbles which might have been heard as “Not to worry.”

Her smile turned sympathetic, “My name's Sarah, chief biologist for the project. The rest of the expedition team are waiting in the briefing room for you.”

“What, already? The meeting isn’t scheduled until another five minutes.”

“Yes, well, it’s polite to turn up early for these kinds of things.”

Cal raised his voice, “How was I supposed to know that!” Before he could finish Sarah’s projection vanished, Cal caught a few judgmental glances being shot his way. After some trial and error Cal found the right gate in the foyer and with a single step he went from the ground floor to one somewhere in the hundreds. He had arrived on time; everyone else had been inconsiderately early.

Cal paid his due attention to the meeting, though he’d heard it all before. A new alien species had been discovered by missionaries on a world slated for colonisation. A team of scientists were to be sent out to study them, and determine if coexistence would be possible. In truth he didn’t care much for the project, but he desperately needed something to publish.

Cal was a State Mathematician, a field of math dedicated to the engineering of societies. Quite unfortunately for him, his field of study had been finished. Done. The New Moralist Authority was mathematically the perfect society, a completely stable and equal state with provably no flaws. As such it was a bitch to get funded. Most State-Math departments have been shut down either due to lack of students or an unfortunate habit of generating Anarchists. Cal certainly wasn’t happy with doing field work but, well, everyone knows what they say about beggars and choosers.

The planet was called New Dallon. Thankfully a Twingate was installed on the planet, so after a little paperwork all it took was a single step to bridge the forty seven lightyears between here and there. New Dallon was wrapped in black jungles that stretched from pole to pole, wildfires marring its surface, visible even from orbit. Cal found it to be a dismal place. The planet was far from its sun, appearing little more than a particularly bright star. The planet only remained warm and its water liquid thanks to its freakishly high levels of carbon dioxide and constant volcanic activity. This, of course, necessitated oxygen masks whenever you wanted to leave the cramped habitat of the missionaries.

Cal was pressed down into his mass-produced stainless steel foldable chair by the cruelly strong gravity of New Dallon. He would have thought the ‘perfect society’ would’ve been more than able to produce half decent chairs, but apparently not. The sheer inadequacy of the chair had distracted him from the away mission briefing he was supposed to be paying attention to.

A muscle bound man clad in kevlar stared down at him. He was grizzled, he had seen things, Cal was sure of it, he could see it in his eyes. Wait, no, it’s frustration in his eyes. Cal began to panic. He had been asked something, and he had no idea what.

Just as he was about to say something no doubt incredibly stupid, Sarah intervened, “Forgive him Reverend, mathematicians are a scatterbrained sort. But he is the best State Mathematician I could find given the timeframe.”

“Given the timeframe?” Cal interjected.

The Reverend, clearly unamused, repeated “So, Specialist Mason, your analysis of their society?”

“Right, yes, of course. Obviously we haven’t had on the ground observations just yet, nor an autopsy, nor even a visual observation of them, or any real tangible data. So based solely on the structures we have seen from orbit we can deduce they do have some level of structured society.”

“So, in your expert opinion, they have… A society?” The Reverend was clearly unimpressed.

“This tells us more than you might think, Reverend, uh…”

“Heartwell.”

“Right, Reverend Heartwell. These structures show more than just instinctual building that something like a bird or beaver might do. These structures measure in the kilometres, they are connected by a series of canals. This requires a level of sophistication and intelligence a regular non sapient animal could achieve.”

Sarah chimed in, “Ants. Couldn’t ants achieve a similar effect? They have been shown to create complex underground structures that are miles across too, but we wouldn’t consider them sapient.”

“An interesting point, actually. Of course ants aren’t sapient, but add enough of them together and they start to act intelligently, even though no individual ant has any meaningful intelligence. It was actually ants, and the study of unintelligent components creating intelligent systems that founded State Mathematics.”

“Wouldn’t that imply that an individual human is unintelligent in comparison to some grea—”

Heartwell interrupts, “Thank you for your input, but this is not the time for philosophy. Given we have no intelligence on their defence or offence I want to take a small squad into one of their ‘structures’ to investigate, no need to announce our presence too loudly. Both Cal and Sarah will accompany us as specialist civilians, I doubt me and my missionaries will know what the hell we’re looking at.”

It was an uncomfortable night sleep within the habitat. With a dozen in each cramped quarters Cal wondered why anyone would choose to call this place home. He supposed that’s why missionaries did this kind of work, New Catholics did always have a masochistic streak.

At the break of dawn they left. The Ranger’s rifles bounced against their bulky environment suits as they marched through the jungle shrubs. He and Sarah were not entrusted with rifles, instead having only a not-too-sharp machete to beat away at the wilds. The jungles were surreal to see, flora and fauna blending into one. Pale sunlight filtered past thick leathery black leaves branching from fleshy tree trunks; below would-be bushes scurried away on thin spider-like legs. The grass was closer to animal than plant. Each step Cal could feel his weight crush down on the twitching grass, its bones snapping, something screeching in pain below the dirt. The missionaries sang static strewn hymns over comms to drown out the noise. Cal didn’t know the words, though neither did Sarah. The two flicked to a channel and spoke, desperately trying to drown out the muffled screams below.

Cal, uncharacteristically, was the first to break the ice, “So how’d you get the job?”

“Nepotism, essentially”, she shrugged.

Cal was taken aback by such a brazen admission, “So… Your dad is a Reverend, or?”

“It was my mother that got me the job actually, though calling her that feels somewhat unfitting. Sarah Five was an expert on xenobiology, I inherited her skills.

“Sarah Five?”

“I am Sarah Six, the 5th clone of Sarah Courter. We are a lineage of geneticists dedicated to the accumulation of scientific knowledge, we then sell that knowledge to the highest bidder.”

“So that symbol on your lab coat, was that of your lineage?”

“Of a sort I suppose. The icon belonged to the Cult of the Triple Helix, but they are long gone now. Sarah One, Courter, she was a Genepriest.”

“I’ve never heard of these Genepriests. I take it they weren’t a New Catholic denomination?”

Sarah giggled, “No, no not catholic. They believed that all a person fundamentally was is a collection of memetic and genetic coding. That the only function of the human soul was to ensure this coding would survive. That sentience was just a means to an end.”

“That’s a bit of a reductive interpretation don’t you think? The mind is greater than the sum of its parts. Are you really telling me you believe the experience of sentience is meaningless outside its service to biological code?”

“Meaning is a human invention.” She reflexively replied, “all I am hearing is a mind trying to protect its self importance.”

After a gruelling two days of hacking through the jungle their trek reached an end. All life abruptly stopped, ahead only desolate plains, except of course for the structure.

Satellite imagery could scarcely prepare Cal for the sheer magnitude of it. The size of a city, it swirled up like a cyclone frozen in time, a column of striated oil-stained bone. In a strange way it felt baroque, like a twisted cathedral made by inhuman hands. The tower's presence was absolute, Cal was just scenery before it, he was incidental.

The tower let out a single terrible howl as the wind wrapped around the structure, flowing across its mottled surface; it was a single gargantuan instrument. The tune reverberated in Cal’s chest and rattled his teeth. The sound never faltered, never changed, never relented. Was the noise intentional, he wondered, a method to intimidate would-be trespassers perhaps? If so it was certainly working.

Drones fought against the whipping wind as they circled the tower. The expedition all gathered around the operator's small wrist-mounted screen. On the other side of the structure was a crude canal that stretched out from the jungles and cleaved into the tower, from which it bled into the ditch a slick black liquid. This would be their entrance.

Up close it appeared like a weeping wound. The wind flicked up specks of black as the constant bellow of a foghorn assaulted them. They bound themselves together with nanofibre rope and ventured within.

The air was screaming, pushing against their ascent, this place did not want them here. Their boots pressed into the chalky bulk of the tower and inky liquid stained and obscured their visors. The further in they pressed the narrower their path got, the more the air became solid and the liquid turned to bullets. Soon the tower closed in, transforming into a web of tubes like the pipes of an organ. Its walls were composed of shifting black ink pinned to the walls by the wind. The liquid violently oscillating in harmony with the air, the lights from their suits playing off the walls' rippling surface. 

How long the ascent lasted Cal could not tell. He thought his body might give in, he wasn’t made for this. Neither was Sarah. Together they fought against the rapids, holding onto each other, their muscles burning, their ears blasted. Then the noise stopped and the air stood still.

The rivers that curled up the tunnels suddenly yielded to gravity and rained down. Then a tired creak began to fill the absence, like an old house settling in the dim of night. The porous ground beneath them thirstily drunk up the oil, and as it did it became malleable like wet paper-mache. The once solid skeleton of the tower melted away, the excursion was swallowed whole by the morphing innards of the tower. Down they tumbled, into a swirling vortex of black and white, the only thing holding them together was a thin line of rope. Cal’s senses were entirely overwhelmed, no longer had he the analytical mind of a State Mathematician, but instead one of a panicked animal.

As sudden as the world had melted away it reformed. Grey mush suddenly solidified into solid ivory. An unfortunate missionary had found himself half encased in the tower's newly solidified bones; he was not moving. Then the wind started again. This time the shriek of a banshee cut into their eardrums. The wind picked up and once more they found themselves in a vortex of swirling ink and screaming wind. A wall of air as solid as stone smacked them. Back they tumbled again, pinned in mid aid between the tension of the rope and the fury of the gale.

“HE’S LOST!” Screamed the Reverend as he unsheathed a standard issue survival knife and cut the rope. The competition of forces resolved, they flew backward. Suddenly Cal felt something very solid hit the back of his helmet. His neck flicked back, then jolted forward. His senses unfocused, time compressed as his consciousness fazed in and out.

When his mind refocused he found himself in a cul-de-sac along with his compatriots. Within this abscess it would seem the torrent abated. Their suits were reminiscent of a seagull rescued from an oil spill. Their ears still ringing they took a moment to ease their beaten bodies and take in what they had seen.

“What the fuck is this place?” asked the Reverend, exasperatedly looking toward Sarah and Cal.

“A hive I'd wager.” replied Sarah.

“No, not a hive.” responded Cal bluntly to the others' bafflement, “A hive would have sections: a place for a ‘queen’, a place to store food, etc. This entire structure is homogeneous, endless black tunnels with no obvious function.”

“So what is it then?” Sarah again replied.

“A computer. Or a computational device of some kind. At first I was puzzled by the noise. I thought perhaps it was a warning to ward off trespassers, but after the change, I think it might be a device.

Perhaps the noise is a signal, one that has some meaning to the denizens. One pitch is a command to one process, another pitch to do another. Once one process is complete it switches. Though I have no idea what kind of creature could inhabit this complex.”

“Well, that’d be my job to find out. I have an idea on how we could learn more about this place's inhabitants. One of the fundamental requirements for life is for it to excrete waste materials.”

“To shit.” Interjected the Reverend.

“Or piss!” She said a little too enthusiastically, “Liquid is a fantastic medium for collecting and holding onto such products. If I were to retrieve a large cross sectional sample I could analyse the chemicals and maybe be able to tell you more about these aliens.”

“Well, it's not exactly going to be difficult to get a sample.” The reverend said, shakily getting back to his feet, “Let's get this done.”

They waded back in. This time they walked with the wind. Making the journey easier but forcing them deeper within the structure. Soon they came across a suitable glut of liquid held up in a similar abscess to the one they sheltered in earlier. Sarah produced a square device decorated with a wide array of blinking buttons. Though Cal was sure it was a sophisticated scientific device, he couldn’t help but be reminded of a child's toy.

Sarah twisted a knob.; several probing rods extended from the corners of the cube at an angle. Laser light flashed between the rods forming a square of flicking green that rapidly ran up and down the volume encompassed by the probes. Sarah tentatively submerged the array into the black. 

Sarah's eyes scanned an illusionary display only she could see, her lips parted her gaze transfixed.

“Fuck. This isn’t just a medium for waste products, it’s a medium for cells. Like what plasma is for our blood cells.”

“So the tower itself is alive, and we're wading through its veins?” asked the Reverend.

“I can’t confirm that yet. The cell’s within the liquid are far more complex than our blood cells. They seem to be forming into complex multi-celled organisms spontaneously, then breaking apart.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the cells are smart. They can combine together to form a temporary individual for a job, only to then split apart once that job is done. How and why I can’t say until I get this sample back to the lab.”

“It is possible that both the tower and the cells are intelligent.” Cal suggested, “there is no reason the components of one sentience cannot be sentient themselves.”

“Enough of this chatter. Collect the sample and we leave.” Barked the Reverend, gesturing to a Missionary Ranger who clumsily detached a bulky container. He unscrewed the lid and began to scoop, yet as the liquid ran into the cylinder it started to solidify, blocking the entrance. Then the rest of the liquid began to turn. Before the expedition had a chance to react they found themselves knee deep in a waxy black mass. 

Panicking, the missionaries unsheathed their machetes and began to hack away large crumbly chunks out of the now solid oil. 

Sarah’s eyes were wide with fear, reading the holographic text of the scanner, “This should be impossible, the cells are combining into something large. Something the size of a multicelled organism like—” She stopped, staring at the human-ish thing formed of oily black wax, “Us.”

The missionaries wasted no time and opened fire. Bursts of muzzle flash produced strobing light that illuminated the forming crowd of human mimics. Several crumbled only to reform once more moments later, their not-quite-faces twisted in alien anger. Their forms morphed. One’s fingers extended in an instant, impaling a ranger. Another’s mouth stretched down its torso and began to consume a missionary. 

Sarah was paralysed, frozen both by fear and the wax that entrapped her. Cal on the other hand was flailing around like he was posted outside a car dealership, swinging his machete about like the air had personally wronged him.

Whilst no one could hear over the roar of the wind, Cal was screaming. Fortunately for his vocal chords -which were at this point rather inflamed from said screaming- but unfortunately for his overall health that screaming would soon stop. A wax man’s hand slid through his suit and punctured his all-too thin skin. The last thing he saw before he passed out was his blood swirling about in the oily black liquid.

[alexskarsgardnet]

New Interview! Alex is on the April 3, 2022 cover of The Sunday Times Culture magazine!

Alexander Skarsgård interview: ‘I nearly ran over Greta Thunberg’

The star of Tarzan, Succession and now The Northman says good looks are a mixed blessing

by Jonathan Dean (Sunday April 03 2022)

“That cemetery is where I’ll end up one day,” Alexander Skarsgård says, looking out to the yellow Katarina Church in Stockholm. With blue skies above it, the colours match his country’s flag. He grew up streets away, but mostly lives in the US, where he made his name in Zoolander and The Legend of Tarzan, plus the television shows True Blood and Big Little Lies. Oh, and Succession. He left his country 20 years ago, to become the screen hunk who brings more to a role than big hunks tend to. Yet as we look out to the graveyard, it seems that you can take the Swede out of Sweden, but even the most successful ones come back in the end.

He is sprawled on the sofa, legs spread like cranes. This is how he has to sit. The man is 6ft 3in. We have met to talk about The Northman, a violent, strange, brilliant Viking blockbuster with Nicole Kidman as Skarsgård’s difficult mother. But first a word on those Swedes because, for a country of just ten million people, they really do punch above their weight in the world.

Within minutes the actor mentions Abba, Vikings and Greta Thunberg. It is Swedish bingo. The tech pioneers Daniel Ek (Spotify creator) and Markus Persson (Minecraft) crop up. As does Skarsgård’s famous actor father, Stellan. Only Max Martin, who has written 25 US No 1s, is missing from this full house of Swedish soft power.

Skarsgård cycled past Greta on his way to meet me; she was on a protest. “She’s how we sell our country now,” he reflects. “And I almost hit her with my bike.” Skarsgård smiles. “Greta is like a modern-day Viking — and, like Greta, the Vikings refused to fly.”

Skarsgård ’s childhood was very Swedish. When he was a boy he played next to Viking rune stones on the island of Oland, and was allowed to pick Viking middle names for his younger brothers. For the first he chose Adolf, before his folks said no. Instead he went with Orm — which means snake. “I was used to being the oldest child and had a lot of attention,” he explains. “Then there was somebody cuter than me, so I called him snake.” He gave his other brother the name of a god whose brains are smashed into the sky. Still, the runes were magical to him, inscribed with Vikings who went to far-flung places.

No wonder Skarsgård was picked for Succession. If you need television shorthand for somebody young and a match for a business behemoth like Logan Roy, make them Swedish. Skarsgård’s Lukas Matsson is a rude revelation as the chief executive of the streaming platform GoJo, who may well have brought down the Roy media empire. The actor does not yet know if he is back for series four, but the word is that he will be.

The best scenes in series three were with Matsson and Logan Roy (Brian Cox) in the garden of an Italian villa. The men discuss takeovers until Logan begins a monologue about America . . .

“And Matsson drifts off,” Skarsgård says, laughing. “He is bored. There are all these sycophants in Logan’s life, including his kids — he is a demigod. So what is funny is when he talks about America, instead of going, ‘Tell me more!’ Matsson goes, ‘He talks a lot. I don’t really need him. He’s old and kind of boring.’”

It is a great role. But Skarsgård did not always have it so easy. Born in 1976, he started acting at seven, before quitting at 13. He had found fame in a TV show, but it was tough to have people talk about who you are when you do not yet know yourself.

National service followed, and then six months at Leeds Met studying English and living with a drug dealer. “I basically just hung out and had fun.” Then, seven years after he gave it up, he returned to acting.

“Dad was happy,” Skarsgård says. His father also made it big abroad in everything from Good Will Hunting to Mamma Mia!. “He’d come home from set when I was young and I’d think, ‘If he is having that much fun on a Monday morning, why am I against being an actor?’”

The visionary and bonkers Northman is his hardest role to date. Skarsgård is Amleth, a Viking prince avenging his father. In one extraordinary raid Skarsgård is half-naked, half-wolf, tripping, taking a chunk out of someone’s throat. He is naked and bloody a lot. Think the superb and ghastly Belarusian war film Come and See meets the vivid horror of Midsommar. Yet still you won’t be prepared for a nude Ethan Hawke barking like a dog. I am staggered, in an age of franchises, that this $90 million, weird violent epic was made. “So am I,” Skarsgård says.

Still, Amleth is exactly the sort of role that Skarsgård wants. A wish-fulfilment part that marries the Viking history that beguiled him as a boy with the challenging work that he did not get at the start of his career. After scoring a role in Ben Stiller’s fashion comedy Zoolander in 2001, offers dried up. “I was left auditioning to play the boyfriend of a girl who gets killed in scene four of a low-budget horror movie,” he says of Hollywood.

In Sweden he worked in films that barely paid enough to buy a ticket back to LA. That must have been depressing? “Absolutely,” he says. “I was questioning why I was in the industry.” It was not until 2008 that things changed, when The Wire’s creator David Simon cast him in his Iraq war HBO series Generation Kill.

Charlize Theron once said that it is hard for an actor to be hot. “When meaty roles come through,” she explained, “pretty people get turned away first.” Did Skarsgård have that experience? “As a good looking blonde woman,” he jokes, “I can relate.” He pauses and tries out a few answers.

“I don’t really know if that was the reason I wasn’t getting roles,” he explains eventually. “Starting out in Sweden, there was stuff about being tall and blond …” He laughs. “But most people here are tall and blond. Still, after my first job I was on a stupid ‘sexy hunky hot list’ and then people didn’t take me seriously. If you want characters with depth but have been labelled ‘a dude who takes his shirt off’, you’re not going to get those offers.”

He finds much of his Hollywood life bizarre. He’s dated a string of famous women including Alexa Chung and is a fixture on the gossip websites. But he’s not on social media, will never google his name. “This industry is incredibly ridiculous,” he says. “In meetings people are really insecure and eager to please. But it’s a strict hierarchy. If people at the top say something is good, people fall in line. Also, menial trivial bullshit stuff becomes very important to people. As an actor the value placed on how important something is can become laughable to me.” His real ambition is to have lots of kids. His twice-married father has eight. He wants nine.

Does he know people similar to his billionaire character on Succession? “A little — Stockholm’s a hub for people who start ridiculously successful companies. A lot are programmers, not dudes who got the girl. They sit in the basement and drink Dr Pepper then, suddenly, like the Minecraft guy, outbid Beyoncé on a house in the Hollywood Hills. I like the idea of Matsson being in that rat race of the ultra-wealthy, because it never ends. I’ve been on yachts and seen owners glance at the yacht next door, because it’s 5ft longer. It never ends, does it?”

Sure, but Skarsgård is an A-lister with access to great riches like his Succession role? “I live an incredibly privileged life,” he admits. At 45 he has a reported worth of $15 million. “I don’t really have to work — I’ve made enough. I could retire, which is extraordinary. But I don’t feel the need to broadcast that with expensive clothes or cars. That radiates insecurity. When you see somebody with a $1 million watch? That’s peacocking. It can feel like they’re overcompensating.”

We wrap up. He has a meeting, but then texts me to go out for a beer. When he turns up, he arrives on a bike with a practical handlebar basket and we talk town planning until a couple of friends turn up, one with a tiny baby. It couldn’t be more Swedish. He is wearing normcore chic like he has just walked out of a slightly more expensive H&M. He gets a few looks, sure, but he is at home here — and it is where he will end up.

Excerpt not included in the article (x):

"It was just a treat – when you have all those elements come together. A script that is so impeccable and tight. And someone like Jesse. Then you work with Brian Cox? It's the best ever. To play around with that was nice. I went straight from that villa to Iceland to shoot a scene of me as a viking slave in shackles, dragged through the mud. That was within 48 hours."

How not laugh when saying that daft, “You know Mark?” line? "There was a bit of, 'Will the audience clock it's Zuckerberg we're talking about?' In one version, I said, 'Zuck told me. Oh, you know Mark?' Then we just stuck with Mark. We tweaked it. It's constantly evolving."

The Northman opens on Apr 15

You can purchase the print issue here.

Sources/Thanks:  Article:  Jonathan Dean for The Sunday Times Culture (x)(April 3, 2022), Images:  Our edits, Originals by photographer Charlie Clift via: The Sunday Times Culture (x, x), charlieclift instagram (x, x), & April 9 insta story (x, x) & JonathanDean_ twitter (x):  “Delighted to announce that ALEXANDER SKARSGARD is on the cover this Sunday looking like this.”

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bb / gg, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is the lead singer in a rock band and failed his Biology class last semester, so he has to take remedial classes over the summer. You're the Biology TA, double major in Psychology and Biology, watching him freak out over his make-up exam because he had overslept. Both of you are surrounded by rumors. Does the title stand for bad boy / good girl or bad bitch / good guy? Who knows.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; not the healthiest dynamic tbh; slight angst due to perceived unrequited love; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, begging, scratching / marking, choking, handjob (he is still wearing underwear), multiple orgasms, cowgirl, hair pulling, edging / orgasm denial, cock ring usage, m-masturbation, cum-eating); non-idol!BTS – rock singer, sub!Jungkook x studious, dom!reader

yes, it's SOWOOZOO JK, both the first yellow tropical look and the shredded black shirt look; for those who wanted him to be dom!JK, there is a moment when he is but not in the way you think because that's how I operate

--

Jeon Jungkook was a bad boy.

Wore too much black, dyed his hair too much, had tattoos, always had girls hanging around him. Sang in a rock band on the weekends, played electric guitar, played the game of how-many-numbers-can-I-get tonight? Never gave a girl his leather jacket to wear but was happy to buy her a drink and flirt with her until she got hot with arousal.

You were a good girl.

Always wore a blazer. Crisp white dress shirt and pleated skirt underneath, usually in a dark color. Sensible heels, but always heels. Did too many units a semester because you were double majoring in psychology and biology. Always arrived to class early, always turned in your assignments on time, always turned in your tests early and aced that shit. Took physics with calculus even though you didn’t have to because it was the harder one and you wanted a challenge.

-

Against the wall, shoving a fist into the neck, lips to lips, teeth snapping, hand travelling down, whimpering pleas and harsh growls, keep crying, I like it, ecstasy and pain, nails to skin. Tearing clothes off, biting, marking, I own you, and then, yes, you do, mouth and tongue, aching pleasure, cocked eyebrow, mocking the pathetic whines and cries, stopping right before the end, no, please, I’ve been good, and, you take what you get, hand fitting onto the neck, squeezing the sides, eyes rolling back, skin to skin, bruising slaps that would be seen tomorrow in the mirror, traced with shaking fingers and pants of an open mouth, moaning at the memory of sky-high pleasure while lightheaded and thoughtless, desperate to do it again.

-

There was a rumor.

Everyone liked Jeon Jungkook. He had two smiles, an endearing one and a teasing one. Both encapsulated the kind of person he was, honest and playful. He always sang with conviction, he rapped with savagery, and his lyrics were always from the heart. He always hung out with his bandmates after their performances at bars and interacted with those that came up to him. No one ever said Jungkook was mean or rude in any way.

And yet.

There was a rumor.

A rumor that Jeon Jungkook was taken.

He was the kind of guy that always made sure a drunk girl got home safe even though he didn’t know them. Paid for their taxi and everything. He focused a lot on his music and writing lyrics he thought would connect with others while taking into account his band members. He always told the truth if a girl confessed to him, saying he wasn’t looking right now, that he was very sorry if she thought otherwise, that there was someone he was already interested in.

-

“Oi.”

You slammed a hand onto the tabletop and Jeon Jungkook jumped, the shredded black shirt he was wearing falling down his shoulder, revealing his ink black tattoos on his tan skin. He was wearing a black tank top underneath.

“What’s with you? You missed the exam for your remedial class and you’ve spent the past ten minutes spacing out at your make-up exam,” you barked, pointing to his empty exam sheet. “You haven’t even filled out you name.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. “S… Sorry.”

You frowned. Why was he apologizing to you? Honestly, why did you sign up for this summer TA position again? Oh, right, money and credits. Hmph. It was really just an excuse for the professor to slack off while you did the tedious things like grading and watching over idiots that skipped class. Sorry, overslept. Hung over, probably, since this was the Jeon Jungkook. Rockstar, hottie, famous in his own way.

Whatever.

He could be Jesus Christ and you would still be scolding him for missing his remedial Biology exam.

“Fill out your name so at least I can fail you properly.”

Not that it mattered, since you knew who he was. He didn’t know you knew who he was, and you had zero incentive to inform him that you were indeed aware of the existence of black-haired, tattooed, chiseled-jaw, sparkly-eyed Jeon Jungkook, all due to the constant snide remarks that followed you in your wake.

You wouldn’t be such a bitch if a guy like Jeon Jungkook put you in your place.

Who the fuck was Jeon Jungkook?

This guy, this weirdo about to fail his fucking Biology exam in front of your face.

Impatiently, you rolled up the sleeves of your gray blazer and grabbed a chair, dragging it up to the table. You snapped the chair down and sat in it, smoothing your skirt. You liked to be neat. Even though university didn’t have a uniform, you liked to keep some sort of uniform for yourself. There was a sense of security in knowing you didn’t have to select an outfit every morning. Today, white dress shirt, gray blazer, pleated black skirt that hit slightly higher than mid-thigh. Every other outfit was some variation of this and, in the winter, you wore thick stockings.

You clicked your heels together under the table sharply.

He flinched at the sound.

Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. He was mumbling at his paper.

“I… I think I studied the wrong chapters…”

You clicked your tongue. Jeez.

His hand was shaking so bad that his pen was practically vibrating. You leaned over the table, grabbing his fist to still it.

“Stop.”

Your bare knees hit his bare knees, mostly because he was wearing black jeans with giant holes in them. Jungkook froze, head snapping up, silver earrings jangling, black hair flying, undercut visible for a second.

“You want to pass this class or what?”

He nodded quickly in response.

“Good. I want to get out of here. Keep your mouth shut. Answer to the first question is A.”

His eyes widened.

“Are you… helping me cheat?” he whispered, terrified.

You cocked your head, letting go of his hand. “You said you studied the wrong chapters. I’m not spending forty-five minutes of my life to watch you panic and then ten minutes more failing you,” you replied lowly, dangerous edge to your voice.

“I… couldn’t… I mean…”

You shoved his knees open with yours, narrowing your eyes as he yelped, pleading look in those brown doe eyes. You pressed your knees on the inside of his thighs, keeping them open.

“Answer to the second question is C.”

When Jungkook didn’t move, you reached over and cupped his chin. Felt his racing heartbeat pounding through his veins, coursing through your fingertips. Stared deep into those eyes, lowering the octave of your voice, keeping his thighs spread for you under the table.

“Listen to me,” you murmured softly. “Okay, Jungkook?”

“O… Okay…”

And he did.

-

There was a rumor.

Nobody liked you. Maybe it was because of your high scores ruining the class test average. Maybe it was the dismissive way you spoke to people, almost demeaning. Most likely it was a combination of the two. Students talked behind your back all the time, spreading rumors. Friends? What friends? You had an average of twenty class credits a semester. You didn’t have time to make friends. And besides, why try to make friends when clearly nobody wanted to be your friend?

And yet.

There was a rumor.

You ignored such things. You didn’t need such distractions.

-

“It would be too suspicious if you got full marks. This score is high enough.”

“O… Okay…”

“Get on the table.”

Jungkook scrambled on the wooden tabletop as you pushed his exam aside. You were still sitting in your chair. Your head tilted, eyebrow lifting at his speedy response to your rather suspicious request.

“You listened.”

He blinked at you. “Uh… yeah?”

Silence.

“Why?” you finally said.

Jungkook gulped. “Be… because you asked,” he mumbled, knees on the table, hands clutching his knees.

“You can just walk out and report me.”

He shook his head quickly, black hair flying everywhere. “I don’t want to.”

Your other eyebrow raised. He chewed on his lip, a flash of pink tongue in his movement.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”

Well.

You decided to test his conviction.

“Edge of the table. Spread your legs for me.”

Instantly, obediently, Jeon Jungkook surprised you by doing it, putting each leg on either side of you, chunky black sneakers hanging down. Shredded black shirt open, hands behind his ass, towering over you, and yet his eyes were watching you, waiting for more, begging for instruction.

“Hm.”

You raised your chin, seeing his impressively muscular thighs and body displayed for you to take. He was so close you could smell his clean, dreamy scent, like a meadow in summer dusk, surrounded by peeking stars and blinking fireflies. Interesting.

But you didn’t need the distraction.

“That’s it. You can go now,” you said dismissively, about to push your chair back.

His legs closed in, pressing firmly into your upper arms. Your eyes flickered up to him.

Jungkook shook his head very slowly.

“Do what you want.”

You saw his chest rise and fall, his silvery voice deepening, pupils expanding.

“I know you want to do something to me.”

His erection was bulging against the zipper of his black jeans. Your eyes went back to his face. He shivered at your sharp stare. All of this was happening in an otherwise empty lecture hall, with you and Jungkook at the very bottom.

Just you and him.

You placed your hands on his thighs. He jumped a little, but scooted closer to you. You slid your hands up. You undid the button of his jeans, scrutinizing those brown eyes. He raised his hips to help you as you pulled the zipper down.

“You don’t know me,” you finally said, no inflection in your voice.

He didn’t look away. “I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” You smirked. “Bad boy, aren’t you?”

Jungkook shook his head slightly, but didn’t break eye contact as you pulled his pants to his knees and reached for his black boxer briefs. “No. I’m a good guy. I want to give you what you want.” You hooked your fingers over the waistband and nicked his skin with your nails, making him gasp, the pleasure evident in his tone. He did not try to hide it from you. “I want to be good for you.”

“Why is that?”

He hung his head a little.

“Something about… how you make me feel…” he muttered. His gaze finally faltered. You reached up and righted his chin, forcing him to look at you. Saw that Jungkook had a mole under his mouth, perfectly in the center. He had a nice shape to his pink lips. You tapped his cheek, nudging him to elaborate. “You… You’re so pretty… and smart… Everyone looks up to you because you have such good grades…”

You doubted that.

Jungkook probably had no idea that most of the school hated your guts.

You didn’t have classes with Jungkook, but you were sure he knew your name because your name was posted on the Dean’s List of the highest-ranking students of the university every semester. Also, you weren’t hard to miss. Every student moved out of your way when you walked through the halls, whispering behind their hands.

Jungkook brought you back to the present.

“I feel,” he whispered, voice trembling, gaze locking with yours. “I feel like I want to be on my knees for you.”

His skin was warm under your nails.

“Like this is where I belong, in your hands.”

You stood up.

Jungkook started, turning into a tight squeak as you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him down.

“Lift up your shirt with both hands.”

He did was he was told, revealing his toned abs and the lower half of his pecs, biting his lip, clutching onto his tank top, ears turning red as he craned his head to look down at you. You didn’t give him any satisfying response. His tan skin seemed to glow under the overhead lights. You studied his face.

Reached up and began to rub his erection through his underwear.

“A… ah…”

“Gonna make you cum like this.”

He shook his head quickly. “P… Please, no…”

You felt him swell and twitch under your hand. He was pretty big. Thick. Pretty boy with a pretty dick, probably. You rubbed the head with your palm, feeling his pre-cum leaking through the thin fabric. He wasn’t kidding when he said you made him feel some kind of way.

“Why not? Make you cum in your underwear and then you have to go all the way home covered in it. All dirty, just for me.”

His handsome face twisted with sinful pleasure at your suggestion, whimpers in his throat. His cock jerked with need, wanting it.

“O… Okay. Whatever you want.”

So obedient.

“So obedient, Jungkook,” you purred, rubbing faster.

He nodded. “For you. Only for you. Just for you.”

Was it just saying those things because he thought that was what you wanted to hear? Or was that how he actually felt? Surely not the latter, considering he didn’t really know you. You leaned over him, placing your free elbow on the table to stabilize yourself. You hadn’t even kissed him.

“You’re so hard for me,” your drawled, lowering your head, letting your warm breath float down onto his skin. “You want to cum for me, don’t you?”

“Y… yes, please…”

“You want to be my toy?”

You pressed your lips to his bellybutton, feeling the smoothness of his skin, tasting it. He moaned at your kiss, your swift tongue flickering out to that delicious skin, whining when your teeth nipped at the softness. Fuck, he tasted so good that you wanted to mark him. Looked so fucking good that you wanted to mess him up, mar him with temporary imperfections on the perfection that was Jeon Jungkook.

“Yes…”

With breathless, lustful conviction.

You licked up his abs, increasing the intensity and speed of rubbing the engorged head of his cock, the pre-cum already soaked through and creating a slippery surface, turning Jungkook’s pitched whines to deep moans, a melody that filled up the entire lecture hall until was the only thing you could hear, Jungkook’s moans as you bit his skin, his moans as you sucked on his skin, moans as you kissed the hard muscle, cries for more at you left marks, pleading for you, sweet and beautiful, clutching his shirt so tight that his knuckles were white, the black tattoos of his right hand standing out, his cock throbbing in your hand, his hips rising to hump your palm, your name on his lips, over and over and over.

“Gonna… gonna cum…” he panted, sniffing slightly, cheeks flushing pink. “Gonna cum like how you want me to, all over my underwear…”

Your fingertips touched his side, seeing him stiffen and then shudder at your gentle caress.

“Do it,” you murmured. “Show me how good you are at listening, Jungkook.”

He bit his lower lip, jaw clenching, squeezing his eyes shut, tipping his head back into the tabletop, whining your name in his chest, your palm working him, slick and hot and hard, pulsating under your roughness. With a sharp moan, his lower lip popped out of his teeth, dark red and swollen, small mole quivering.

“F-Fuck…!”

You felt it and heard it, the unmistakable jolt and squelch as his orgasm splattered inside his boxer briefs, drenching the fabric, drenching your hand, his embarrassed whines as he realized what he had done but still humping your hand, forcing out every last twitch of dribbling cum, causing you to smear it everywhere, coating the sensitive head and adding to the pleasure, his cheeks flushed red, eyes squeezed shut to savor the pleasure and avoid looking at you.

“Shh…”

You crawled onto the table, still holding his cock through his soiled underwear, squeezing it, free hand slipping under his head and lifting him, his eyes weakly opening, scared and anxious, but all you did was lean down and kiss him, pressing your lips to that pure softness, exhaling his name into his mouth, his scent staining your hand, his cologne filling your nose, your whisper in his throat.

“Time for you to go home.”

-

Jungkook thought you would tell everyone.

You did no such thing.

Instead, you ignored him.

He would see you three times a week and, three times a week, you arrived with the professor and left with the professor. Jungkook tried much harder to attend classes, but you seemed not to care either way. He would come to the front and collect his assignment and find that you had marked it up exactly like everyone else, red marks all over his incorrect answers. You didn’t even look in his direction.

The next exam was coming up quickly.

Part of him considered skipping exam day to have one-on-one time with you again.

“Jungkook.”

He jumped, jerking his head towards the hall, confused. Somehow, he had heard your voice. Or rather, did he imagine it? His teeth sunk into his lip, placing a hand on his forehead, confused. His head was confused. He couldn’t think straight. Why had he done such an embarrassing thing with you? Even you had told him to leave and report you. But Jungkook just couldn’t. Not then and not now. He had asked for it.

He still wanted it.

Nobody knew. Everybody thought he was a cocky, womanizing playboy. And he was, but not because of the sex. It was only because he was bored and that was all he could get. There was power in being on top.

And there was power in letting go.

You were bad for him.

He was a good guy.

You were a bad bitch.

And nobody knew.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and yanked him around, the loose short sleeves of his yellow tropical shirt flaring out, making his sunglasses rattle on his face. You narrowed your eyes at him. Instant shivers down his spine at your stern gaze.

“Are you deaf?” you snapped. “I’ve been calling your name for the past minute.”

“I… S-Sor–”

You waved a hand dismissively, grabbing his right hand and slapping down a post-it into it.

“Chapters for the exam, including the date and time. Do not miss it this time. I will not let you make it up and fail you on the spot.”

You turned on your heel, letting go of his hand.

His left one shot out and circled around your arm, his rings pressing into your skin.

“Wait.”

You jerked your head towards him, glaring sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

And you yanked your arm out of his grasp, but his legs made the choice for him, following your swift strides, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, clutching the post-it and his last strands of sanity.

“Please, wait.”

“What?” was your curt response, not looking back at him.

“Please do it again,” he gasped breathlessly, unable to stop himself.

“Do what?”

“Have your way with me.”

You stopped walking.

Jungkook walked straight into your back and banged his nose on your head. He winced, stepping back and rubbing it gingerly. He didn’t register you turning around until it was too late and you were right in his face. You raised your chin and eyebrow simultaneously.

“No.”

He blinked rapidly, his tinted sunglasses halfway down the bridge of his nose.

“W… Why? Did you not like it? Was… was I bad?”

You let out an amused scoff.

The side of your lips curved upwards.

He had made you smile, even if only a little bit. Just that small thing was enough to feed his courage.

“I…” Jungkook coughed, clearing his throat before he spoke again, voice still a soft whisper in his embarrassment even though no one was around to eavesdrop. “I can be better. I can do better.”

Silence.

He thought you were going to walk away again.

You reached up and plucked his glasses off his nose. Folded them neatly and tucked them in his tropical shirt pocket. Then your eyes found his again and he knew something was different. He could see you clearly now, his vision no longer clouded by sienna.

Now, Jungkook could no longer stop it.

He could feel it all over him, coursing through his veins, arousal like fire. Something about you and something about him. Jungkook could sense the danger, but he didn’t want to run even though he knew he should. He had heard the rumors surrounding you. They could be true.

And yet.

“I want it,” Jungkook breathed, inviting himself into the danger. “I want you. I want to be your toy.”

Your discerning expression didn’t change.

You reached up and gripped his chin, digging your nails into his soft skin.

He whimpered in his chest, moving closer to you.

“What’s my name?”

His brows furrowed, saying your name hesitantly.

You pulled his chin down so he was eye-level.

“Next time you say my name, I will be choking it out of you.”

-

Everyone thought Jeon Jungkook was the kind of guy to grip your wrist with his left hand and your throat in his right, his lips against your ear and his sweaty chest against your back as you slapped your ass into his crotch and fucked yourself with his rock-hard cock, his smirk in your ear as he provided you with a certain type of encouragement.

“That’s right, you want this dick, don’t you? Show me. Prove to me you want it.”

His fingertips tightening against the sides of your neck, listening to your pathetic cries and moans as you tried to squirm against him, brain running out of oxygen due to lack of blood, running out of thoughts, running out of pleas as Jungkook gripped your wrist, deep snarl against your hair as he roughly finished himself off using your body because that’s all you were, someone to be used by him and nothing more, neck suddenly released with a breathless gasp and shoved face first into the sheets with his right hand splayed on your back, his tattoos and your orgasm crashing down on you, his growls staining the air and a fierce jerk of his hips to spill into your tight hole and leave you moments after, nothing but a discarded toy in his eyes.

You thought.

That was what everyone thought when Jeon Jungkook stood on stage, flipping his dark violet microphone between verses and smirking like a devil, truly in command of every thought and every pair of eyes on him, surrounded by a heavy bass line and deafening drums, guitar solo tearing through the moment to emphasize the next of his lips nearing the mic again, entrancing the crowd with his beautiful lips and talented tongue.

No one knew.

-

You were riding him hard and fast, torn condom wrappers and used condoms littering his bed, back-to-back orgasms, his head pressed into his pillows, your hand around his neck, the other leaving long lines down his chest, scratching him so hard that it dotted red, blooming lines of pain.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, f-fuck…”

Jungkook was hoarsely whispering, clutching his sheets, black hair soaked with sweat, raising his chest to your nails, whimpering, punish me, punish me, punish me, and you muttered plainly with a sharp edge, you talk too much, your grip tightening again, pressing onto the sides of his neck, cutting off the blood flow, and Jungkook moaned gratefully, eyelids fluttering, the slap of your hips to his louder and louder, filling up his whole bedroom, rattling his bedframe, fucking him so hard he was slowly sliding up to his headboard.

Your name fell from his lips in pure ecstasy, back arching to shove his whole length fully into you, thick and hard and twitching with need, your slick walls clamping down on him, fitting to him with a hiss. He began to match you, breathless, lightheaded, world hazy, moaning from deep in his chest, I love you, and your reply was only tightening your grip, your hand and your pussy, harder, harder, harder.

“Aren’t you such a good guy?” you scoffed sarcastically, letting up for only a second to let him reply, blood rocketing back into his brain, flooding him with oxygen, and Jungkook sucked in a lungful of air, reeling.

“N-No…” he panted. “You’re the good girl… you’re always s-so… so good to me…”

His eyes locked with yours hazy with lust and love. You almost looked away out of instinct.

“You a-always remember… what I like…” he managed to choke out.

-

You left him when you were done using him.

You pretended he didn’t say those words to you. There was no point in acknowledging the nonsense that he said in the middle of being choked and barely functioning. You tapped your pencil against your textbook.

You caught yourself thinking about him.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your eyes flickered to the clock. Late at night on a Friday. He was probably at a bar. You watched the second hand of your plain silver clock tick, tick away. You never asked to watch him and his band perform even though Jungkook always made it a point to text you the address and the time.

It was obvious Jungkook didn’t want you to be his secret.

He wasn’t really your secret either. You just saw no benefit to letting anyone know there was a connection between you and Jeon Jungkook. After all, you were just using him.

You stopped tapping your pencil.

Stared at the second hand.

Tick.

Heard the voices of the rumors poisoning you, saying the things they said.

She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else because she’s a nerd.

The only reason she has good grades is because she fucked that one professor.

I heard she dated him.

I mean, there’s a reason he left in the middle of the semester, right?

He had a wife!

Snap.

Your eyes flickered down.

The tip of your pencil lead rolled across the page, leaving tiny pinpricks of granite.

There was never any evidence because nothing happened. Nothing happened between you and said psychology professor. He left in the middle of the semester because his wife had a miscarriage and he wanted to be with her. It had nothing to do with you. You had long discussions with him about life and existentialism, hanging out during his office hours.

Sometimes, you felt bad.

Had you kept him from his wife? Would it have not happened if he just skipped his office hours and didn’t spend them talking to you? These were irrational, foolish thoughts. They made you guilty even when there was nothing to be guilty about.

He was a nice guy, mid-thirties. Everyone liked this professor.

They blamed you because they didn’t know.

Only you knew, because he told you with tears in his eyes and thanked you for being his student.

You didn’t tell anyone, because he did not owe you an explanation and you were not going to divulge someone’s personal business that they had shared with you in confidence. You watched your reputation crumble and fall apart, watched friends ostracize you, because you didn’t tell them anything and they didn’t believe you. You watched yourself turn bitter and hateful.

Just tell the truth.

There was no truth to be told.

You put your pencil down.

Closed your eyes.

Remembered Jungkook’s face.

-

Your hands were in his hair, pulling hard. His hot breath was in your face, arms shaking as he held himself up, fucking you into his mattress with whines in his chest, begging you, begging you, begging you.

“P-Please… let me cum, please…”

You liked to watch the sweat clinging to his high cheekbones and neck, jaw glistening with tension, feeling his strong body between your legs, his twitching hardness sliding into you repeatedly in rough, hard smacks, squeezing him every time he was fully sheathed inside you, vibrations coursing through you every time he came down.

“Not until I’m done,” you growled and he whimpered, pleading look in those brown doe eyes, black pupils expanded, unable to cum because a vibrating cock ring was restricting his orgasm, keeping him hard but unable to climax, sending thundering pleasure through him and into you. He watched helplessly as you gripped his hair, hissing sharply as another wave of pleasure overtook you, closing your eyes to savor it, savor his swollen cock twitching inside you as he felt the intense massage of your pussy walls closing around him, throbbing around the head and driving him insane, moaning pathetically because he couldn’t follow suit no matter how desperate he was.

Jungkook didn’t ask if you were done.

He just kept going because you told him he couldn’t cum until you were done.

And you didn’t say you were done.

You stared into those brown orbs, hazy with lust and full of conviction to be good for you.

Desperate to be the best and the only one, not knowing there was no one else because no one else wanted you like the way Jeon Jungkook wanted you.

“Pull out.”

“B-But…”

“You heard me,” you exhaled, throbs of pleasure still trembling through you. Your hands slid down, cupping his chin, nails digging into his sweaty cheeks. “Obey.”

With a pained whine, Jungkook obeyed, pulling out of you, his cock covered in your juices, wearing a condom and the black cock ring. You reached over with one hand to press the button on the remote to turn in off.

“Take it all off. Let me see your cock.”

He reached down and slowly pulled the cock ring off, taking the condom with it, whimpering at the sensitivity, his tone hitting a lovely pitched groan as the silicone squeezed the base of the head. His whole body was shaking as it fell from his hands, the veins on his length standing out, head purple-red and angry, white pre-cum slowly beading at the tip, and his face, looking down at you, waiting for your next move.

Cock waiting to be used.

You tapped your chest.

“Cum on my tits.”

“B-But–”

You cut him off.

“You’re going to cum on my tits and then you’re going to lick it off while I watch.”

-

He listened.

Jungkook straddled your waist with his thighs, muscular and defined, right hand wrapping around his cock, sweat making the tattoos on his forearm and shoulder glow in the low light, smelling like sex and musk, his core tightening as he touched his overstimulated length, using the lube of the condom and his own pre-cum to add to the pleasure as he began to stroke himself, moaning as you lifted your hands and cupped your breasts, pushing them together, his eyes on the curve of your cleavage and points of your hard nipples sticking out, and then your face, an indifferent look with a cocked eyebrow, taunting him, unimpressed by his timid grip on his cock, so he squeezed harder, tighter, embarrassing cries falling from his mouth, living for the smirk that slowly began to form on your lips.

It empowered him somehow, that smirk, the little inkling of satisfaction that Jungkook wanted, needed, craved, knowing he was doing well, being good, furiously pumping his aching cock over your pressed-together tits and he couldn’t last, couldn’t help it, too overstimulated and too turned on, too in love with this to prevent himself from tipping over with a hot gasp, spilling streams of sticky white lines over your breasts, spreading them everywhere, making a huge mess because he wanted a huge mess to clean up, shoving the head into your cleavage and shuddering at the sensation of warmth to his scorching heat, able to feel the pulse of the engorged tip dripping out what was left, shivers up and down his spine, the words falling from his mouth that he never stopped saying even though you never acknowledged them.

“I... l-love you…”

He stayed like that for nearly a full minute, but you didn’t tell him to get off.

His eyes were closed, savoring the feeling.

Slowly, Jungkook gingerly removed himself, lowering his body over yours, tongue sliding out, touching your skin covered in his cum, his taste, mine, no one else’s, him on you, lapping it up, salty and bitter and yet he loved it, loved that you told him to do it, loved that you let him paint your skin with his orgasm and now his saliva. He didn’t care that you never said anything to his I love you, didn’t care that you seemed to pretend he never said it, because he would continue saying it when he was with you, hopeless as it was.

It was the small things that kept him going, sucking his own cum off your nipple and wrapping his lips around it, hearing your soft sigh of pleasure, feeling the tap on his thigh that instructed him to scoot up, the small thing of your hand closing in on his spent cock, sending sparks of pain but also pleasure, moaning into your skin as you massaged his balls with your fingers, knowing that he could take more pressure and roughness because he had just came, the small thing of your thumb rubbing the sensitive slit, his face pressing into your breasts, smearing his cheek with his cum and saliva, sliding across your slick skin because of the intensity of the high it gave him, the pleasure and the pain, his right arm coming up to wrap around you, tattoos cradling your torso.

“I love you…” he whispered to your racing heart under his ear, lost in the rhythm of your heartbeat and the firmness of your touch. Jungkook did not care if you hated him saying it.

He would continue saying it as long as he was with you.

-

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing…?”

“Hmm.”

He placed his hand over the bottom of his phone and smiled at the cute girl that was talking to him at the bar.

“Sorry. I have to take this call. It’s important to me.”

He didn’t hear her response, because he backed away, bowing lightly, pressing his phone back to his ear.

“Ah, never mind, Jungkook.”

“No, no. What is it? Tell me.”

“You’re at a noisy place. It’s Saturday night.”

Jungkook pushed through the people, mumbling his apologies and straining to hear your voice over the thundering bass. “I finished. Well, we finished. We’re only drinking. I can leave at any time. I’ll just text the guys to bring my equipment back for me. Where are you?”

“Forget it.”

He opened the door of the club as the dial tone rang in his ear.

Looked up.

Your hand dropped to your side. You were still in your white dress shirt and navy skirt, dressed exactly like you were when at school minus the blazer. Jungkook’s eyes widened. He was in a torn-up long-sleeve shirt with the right sleeve removed, showing off his tattoos. His black hair was wild and half-wet, and he was wearing tight leather pants.

You clicked your tongue.

“I said forget it,” you repeated hollowly.

You sighed and turned around, skirt swishing in your wake.

“Wait, I’ll come with you–”

“Go back to where you belong, Jungkook.”

His hand closed around your forearm, holding tight.

“I belong with you.”

You stopped walking, silent.

“What is it? Tell me.”

You scowled. “It’s dumb.”

“So am I, remember?” he chuckled, his hand slipping down, squeezing yours. “I’m not very good at school.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Cars and people brushed past, but Jungkook was focused onto on your stillness, watching your eyes seemed to be thinking about many things. You hadn’t pulled your hand out of his yet. By now, Jungkook knew that if you didn’t want something, you wouldn’t be shy about telling him right away.

You started walking again. Jungkook was still holding your hand.

“It was just a moment of weakness,” you mumbled under your breath.

“A guy…?”

You didn’t answer.

Jungkook squeezed your hand. “It’s okay,” he murmured tightly. “I understand.”

He did not. He wanted to cry.

Your eyes shot to him, pinning him in place. “You don’t understand, Jeon Jungkook. You understand nothing.” You pulled your hand out of his and Jungkook let go, trying to hold his pain, trying not to breathe because he was preparing himself for the inevitable, the moment you were going to break his heart and, if it was right here and right now, then so be it, because he had said how he felt repeatedly and there was nothing more he could do than that.

He loved you so, so bad.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, that it was madness, but he did anyway.

But you surprised him.

Your sharp gaze softened.

“You know what they say about me. You have to know,” you exhaled, shaking your head. “You must know the rumors.”

Good girl gone bad.

Jungkook frowned. “About you and the professor?”

He watched your jaw clench.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

Your eyes shifted, not quite looking at him.

“Whether something did or didn’t happen, what does that have to do with me?”

And now you looked at him, guarded, not letting him know your thoughts.

“You…” He swallowed, trying to press the lump down in his throat. “You’re just using me, right? It doesn’t… doesn’t really matter, because in the end I don’t matter to you anyway… right?”

He did not want to cry and yet he did, because he knew he loved you. It was the small things, the way you never let up on him even in class, the way you picked days that were never the weekend and never before exams, the way you would brush your fingertips on his knuckles before leaving when you thought he was asleep, the way on the last time, the last time you were together, that you pressed your lips to his forehead when you thought he was asleep, running your fingers through his hair.

Jungkook was standing outside this bar and there were people he knew walking past, seeing you and him, but he kept his eyes on you, because the only one that mattered was you.

The one he belonged to was you.

He had decided that when he climbed onto the table that day.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a heavy breath. “If people say things about you, then they say things about you. Whether it’s the truth or not doesn’t change the fact I love you. It doesn’t make me love you less,” Jungkook said, speaking at his usual volume, because there was no reason to whisper the truth. “Even if it’s pointless and crazy, I want to be with you until the day you don’t want to be with me.”

His smiled and blinked back tears.

“Even if that day is today, I will never regret it.”

In this cruel summer, you could have ruined his reputation. You could have told everyone the kind of person he really was and you didn’t. You could have spread embarrassing stories of the things you made him do and you didn’t.

Even if he didn’t matter to you, Jungkook was confident that you weren’t a malicious person.

You rubbed your forehead. “The rumors will come to you.”

Jungkook laughed. “So what? I heard a rumor that I removed two ribs so I could suck my own dick. I admit, I considered doing it after hearing that.”

You scowled, but Jungkook only smiled in return. He could see the tension falling from your face with his comment. You clicked your tongue and tilted your head, as if to say, can’t be helped.

“There’s no other guy,” you muttered. “There’s just you and you’re dumb.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly, confused.

“You say it over and over and make me think about it all the time.” You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not a good girl. People pushed me away and I stayed there instead of trying to repair the burned bridges. I don’t even think I want to repair them. Who knows what will happen next? I don’t think it would be a good idea to put you through that shit.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, looking at him apologetically.

“You’re not the bad boy everyone says you are. You’re a good guy. You should find a good girl.”

Is that what you think? Jungkook chuckled, taking out his hand and rubbing his nose thoughtfully.

“I don’t want a good girl.”

He stepped toward you, lowering his hand and his head so that he was eye level with you.

“I love a bad bitch who can push me around and makes me their toy.”

He tilted his head, small curve on those beautiful lips, tiny mole underneath appearing with every smile.

“Which can only be you, you know.”

Jungkook didn’t try to kiss you. He only wanted to look into your eyes so you knew his conviction.

“I love you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you say it.”

He nodded. “And I’m going to keep saying it until the day you leave me.”

Silence.

Ah.

Your eyebrow lowered and you gave him an indifferent look.

“Hm. I wonder when that will be, Jungkook.”

You leaned in, but before you kissed him, he heard the whisper against his lips, felt the shape of yours as they brushed against his, words he prepared himself to never hear from you, words that he thought you would never say, and that was fine with him, because you showed it, and that was enough.

He thought.

“I love you.”

And then your lips on his and his tears fell onto your cheeks because Jungkook wanted to cry all this time and he could not stop now, knowing that he was so, so in love with you and you finally, finally said it back to him.

--

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